Jewel of the Pacific (10 page)

Eden couldn’t find her voice for a moment. Lana took over, pouring water into a glass and bringing it to her.

“Here, drink this and clear your throat.”

Eden’s hand shook as she took the water and drank, spilling some on the front of her pinafore.

“It’s no—no good. Everything is destroyed. It’s all over this time—”

“What’s all over, dear? Jerome looks to be recovering.”

“R-Rafe. He doesn’t love me anymore—”

“Rafe—oh, come. People can’t fall in and out of love that easily.”

“It—it’s been a long time coming. He said so.”

Lana was quiet. She drew her fair brows together. “Did he say that? I thought you hadn’t heard from him?”

“I’ve disappointed him too many times. He’s disillusioned.”

“This doesn’t sound like Rafe Easton.”

“Oh, Lana, it’s all over between us for certain this time.” She burst into tears, trying to keep quiet.

Lana put her arms around her and held her in understanding silence.

After a while Eden, emotionally spent, watched as Lana slipped over to the bed, checked Jerome’s pulse, then returned to Eden. “Try not to worry too much.”

Eden went to the cabin door, and stepped out.

Outside the cabin door Eden felt the wind blow against her, loosening her dark hair. She hoped her eyes were not red or puffed from tears.
Never again.
Tears were useless.

If Eden had looked toward her right when she’d come out of the captain’s cabin she would have seen Keno emerging from the morning sunlight. He did, however, notice her.

He watched Miss Green Eyes slip out of the cabin, her gray nurse’s skirt floating behind her as she went down the steps to the hold. Something in her expression, in the way she held herself, disturbed him.

Had she found the picture? Naturally she had. What else could go wrong for his pal Rafe?

Keno thought of the time he’d told Rafe he’d commandeer the ship to take them and their supplies to Molokai. Rafe had also requested, “When Eden arrives the place will be a shock for her. Keep an eye on her, will you?”

“Sure thing, old pal.”

Keno walked to the cabin and entered quietly. He noticed that Dr. Jerome was sleeping and walked to the desk.

Well, I haven’t done a very good job of taking care of her
. He opened the drawer.
Yep, Miss Green Eyes made a search all right. So she did see me with it. I was sure she hadn’t noticed. A lesson, Keno, never underestimate a woman’s desire to know her man. Worse thing, though, this will just hurt her and Rafe. Miss Bernice Judson would probably smile
.

He held the envelope with picture and card in hand and murmured, “I should’ve put it in my pocket. And that’s exactly what I can hear Rafe telling me!”

None of us have been too smart lately, including Rafe. What was he thinking of, going off without talking things over with Green Eyes?

Keno shook his dark head. The rift would tear Rafe and Eden asunder, even if going to San Francisco without talking to her didn’t.

Keno shoved the drawer closed, just as the cabin door opened again and Mrs. Bolton entered, looking at the bunk where Dr. Jerome was still oblivious to all going on around him. She saw Keno and paused.

“Keno, aloha. Dr. Jerome is doing much better.”

“Good news, ma’am. He’s still asleep. I’ll leave, and let you to your business.”

T
he following morning Eden was dressed before daybreak.

Wearing a hooded cloak, she joined Uncle Ambrose on the upper deck and huddled over a tin mug of hot coffee.

From a distance Molokai looked forlorn with its black cliffs and low gray cloud cover. She tried to imagine being a recently diagnosed leper getting her first view of the lonely settlement where she would be forced to spend the rest of her life. What abandonment to be left here, separated from your loved ones and your plans for a satisfying life.

My poor, godly mother. All of these years, here, all but forgotten. I must write her story and see it published with all its pathos in the
Gazette.
Perhaps I should write Great-aunt Nora about this. Maybe she’ll let me write Rebecca’s story for the paper
.

Her enthusiasm grew as she contemplated the task. Regardless of her tense state of mind at the moment, she was as ready as she would ever be for the uncharted adventure awaiting her.

“This may be the Hawaiian Islands, but it’s outright cold,” she told Uncle Ambrose who seemed to be enjoying his mug of coffee.

Ambrose glanced toward the black silhouettes of Molokai’s cliffs. “I’ve heard on some areas of Kalaupapa—one of the areas of Molokai—there’s sunlight for just a few hours a day. The cliff overshadows the Kalawao settlement and blocks the sun.”

“A dreary place for the lepers,” she agreed.

Ambrose gravely nodded his graying head. “Yes. And I’ve never been much pleased with your decision to come here, lass, even if your father encouraged it. Rafe isn’t at peace with it, either.”

The mention of Rafe and how he might feel kindled her raw emotions into a flaming irritation. “Rafe? I’m sure he doesn’t care one whit. He’s laid aside any right to judge my plans. He ran away and didn’t even write me a note to explain.”

“Yes, my dear girl, but Rafe’s merely human. Every knight gets unhorsed sometimes in life you know. He can’t bear the thought of being blind.”

“So everyone has assured me,” she said doubtfully. “Everyone except Rafe himself. He can’t become a burden to me.”

Tears pricked her eyes and the wind made it worse. “He could at least have told me so. Any goodbye is better than none. I’ll be curious to know if he feels as honor bound to another woman about his sight as he claims about me!”

Ambrose raised his brows. “What’s this about? You think Rafe is seeing someone else? Now, now! And what’s on your hand but an engagement ring.”

The ring was back at Kea Lani locked securely away until she could return it to him, but she said nothing. She wore gloves this morning, and Ambrose hadn’t noticed its absence.

“You sound bitter today. Surely, lass, he’ll write you from the mainland as he said he would.”

“Perhaps,” she said, and drank from her coffee mug. The coffee was too strong and bitter. Just the way she felt. She understood more about Rafe Easton than anyone seemed to think she did. Even Ambrose didn’t appear to know about Rafe’s past feelings for Bernice Judson, a secret he’d evidently kept for years. Was this recent injury the proverbial thunderbolt that awakened him to realize he did care for Bernice? Enough to break off his engagement?

She merely said, “Well, he didn’t mind going to Parker Judson’s house in San Francisco with his injury. He could trust
them
, but not
me
, the woman he
claimed
he loved and wanted to marry? Ambrose, I wonder if Rafe actually does, or did, love me … I think there might be someone else. Someone he’s afraid to love because of doubts about her faith, and her flirtatious ways.”

Ambrose frowned into his coffee. At last he said, “Your point is taken, Eden. You speak of Parker Judson’s niece. Unfortunately, if it’s true—and I’m not at all certain it is—there will be even more trouble. Zachary is determined to have Parker’s niece as his wife. Keno believes that’s a main reason he accompanied Rafe to the mainland. But I know Rafe. He won’t marry a woman who isn’t committed to Christ.”

So Uncle Ambrose suspected something. I’m the one who’s been unable to see clearly
, she thought.
So much for my “womanly intuition.” How confident I felt in his love. So confident I thought I could delay marriage until my goals at Molokai were completed
.

“However, lass, I’m not at all convinced Rafe is running to someone else on the mainland, as you might suppose. Knowing Rafe, I’d say he was running from
himself.”

Keno emerged from the captain’s cabin followed by her father and Dr. Bolton. Eden didn’t need to ask her father how he was faring on this new day. He smiled as he discussed the low tides with Keno and Dr. Clifford Bolton. His cheerfulness showed his enthusiasm for the challenges ahead.

She could not say the same for Dr. Bolton. His fair features had aged considerably in the last six months since the discovery of his leprosy. Nor could she say she was ready to lead the parade, now that the hour was upon them.

At least I’ll see Rebecca
, she thought, mollified, but uneasy.
What would she say—indeed, what could she say to her mother in so tragic a situation?
Words defied the emotions she was sure they both would experience.

“Keno’s decided the waves are calm enough for our landing,” her father exclaimed.

Keno gestured to the seamen who were removing the heavy canvas from the whaleboats. “The
kanakas
are confident. They’ve been handling oars in rough seas since they were boys. The best conditions for landing are from May to September. The rest of the year storms make landings messy, dangerous, and sporadic.”

“Look,” Eden said, gazing toward the shore, where torches flickered.

“A welcoming committee from the leper exiles,” Keno told them. “Lookouts spied the ship yesterday. They must think we’re bringing food and mail.”

“The steamer isn’t due for another week,” Eden said. She was well acquainted with the schedule of the Board of Health’s supply steamer as was Dr. Bolton who’d led the Board for some years until his recent disease.

Dr. Jerome’s mouth tightened. He looked to Dr. Bolton. “I tell you, Clifford, those early days of the settlement were a shame and a disgrace to the Board, and to the Hawaiian throne. The lepers might have starved out here for all anyone cared. Many of the landings were a horrendous debacle.”

“All true, not that anyone could do much at the time, with no secure landing wharf.”

Eden knew the depressing history of the early settlement, which had lacked sufficient food, adequate personal safety, and medical care.

The tales that had drifted back to Kalihi hospital throughout those years told of overturned boats and deaths by drowning. The steamers would anchor about a half-mile offshore in the deeper water. Both lepers and cargo were sent by rowboat or whaleboat toward the rocky shore beneath the black cliffs. The attempt to land demanded calm waters as well as high tides to catch and roll the boats to shore.

She could imagine the lepers’ difficulty after a boat overturned, dumping them into the sea. Even though most—especially the advanced cases—were so weak, they had to swim to catch hold of the strong incoming waves to sweep them to the beach. Often they were swept backward and eventually drowned.

It seemed to her that there should have been a safer landing site, but there was no harbor anywhere along the peninsula’s rocky shore. If the sea was calm, the arriving vessels would anchor a half-mile offshore from Kalawao. They would use boats and
kanakas
to ferry passengers and cargo to the narrow beach. This area was located at the mouth of a valley east of the peninsula. The surf was usually treacherous along this stretch of beach, and the boats were often overturned or swamped. Keno assured them his
kanakas
handling the oars knew their “business,” as he put it. One glance at their smiling faces and muscled forms convinced Eden.

In the early days many passengers were not so fortunate. A captain might send a loaded whaleboat, then watch helplessly as a great breaker snatched the boat, whacked its steersmen, and fractured the boat on the rocks.

“Sometimes even now, a captain will refuse to attempt a landing,” Keno said. “If he’s impatient or careless, he might pitch his cargo overboard and claim it was delivered.”

On the other hand, if a captain decided to land at the Kalaupapa side of Molokai, the prospects were only slightly improved. To try to land at either shore carried the imminent possibility of loss. The exiles making it to shore, wet and sick would then have to walk two miles inland to Kalawao. When they got there, they had to wander about looking for pieces of wood for a fire to dry their wet clothes and keep them warm through the night. Illness was prevalent. There were a few huts provided, but at times people had to find caves or rocky crevices to settle in until a hut could be added.