Rain Forest Rose (3 page)

“Why?” Darby asked.

“Civilization has nothing to offer me. What do I need with video games when I'm entertained by the weather, plants, and animals? Why should I carry a cell phone when visitors stop in with the news? I don't even need a doorbell. The birds told me you were walking the path to my door.”

As Tutu moved to pour their tea into mugs, she waved Darby toward a wooden table and chairs.

“Sit down. After you've had some tea, if you have the breath for it, I'd love for you to tell me how your sweet mother is doing. I miss her.”

Darby settled into a chair, feeling strangely at
home. White curtains framed her view of Navigator and Hoku, still side by side, and she heard their teeth grinding grass.

As she tried to come up with things Tutu would want to hear about Mom, Darby's eyes took in the bolts of colorful cloth on one shelf and the books on another. Small trees grew in pottery bowls. A blue glass jar held water and stones. A green one was half full of shells. Growing plants sent roots among the stones and shells, and vines cascaded to the floor.

“You know, she used to ride out and visit me like this,” Tutu said as she set a saucer of lemon slices and a honeypot on the table. “But it's been, oh, fifteen years or more.”

Darby took a sip from the pottery cup as soon as her great-grandmother handed it to her. She tried to picture her mother riding out here as she'd just done. The image was hazy, but the idea made her happy.

As Tutu sat down to drink her own tea, Darby said, “She looks like you.”

Tutu didn't sound surprised. “Kealoha women keep their family resemblance, no matter the men we marry.”

Transfixed by the tendrils of steam swirling up from the tea, Darby described her mother's roller-coaster acting career, her divorce, and her longing to live at the beach, even though it meant home was on a seedy side street that smelled not of salt air, but of Dumpsters and fish bones.

Tutu soaked up the information, then said, “And the best thing is that Ellen sent you home.”

“I don't know how she ever left,” Darby confessed.

“She'd say she was driven away. Jonah would say she ran.” Tutu shrugged, but she put everything so simply and clearly, Darby wished she'd had Tutu to come home to every day after school.

“Why haven't I ever met you?” Darby asked.

“I knew you'd come out in your own good time,” Tutu said.

“I mean, ever,” Darby insisted. “Kids with great-grandmothers usually know about them.”

“What did your mother say about that?”

Darby didn't feel mad about her mother's secrecy anymore. In fact, she gave a breathy laugh as she explained, “Mom said she knew if she told me that the rest of my family lived on a horse ranch in Hawaii, I'd never shut up about it until I got to go there.”

Tutu chuckled. “And was she right? Do you like ‘Iolani Ranch?”

“I love it!” Darby couldn't keep her arms from opening wide as if she'd embrace everything around her. Finally she put her hands back on the table and folded them.

“I love it, too.” Tutu patted Darby's hand. “But tell me about yourself, Darby. What else do you love?”

Darby drew a deep breath. The tea had beaten
her asthma, but her list was still short. “Books, horses, and my family.”

It had been easier to talk about her flamboyant mother.

“Friends?” Tutu urged her to go on.

“Sure,” Darby said. “My best friend at home is Heather. We're both nerds.”

Tutu smiled in a way that made it clear she understood, then asked, “And here?”

“I like Megan and Cade.”

“Wonderful children, both of them,” Tutu said.

“Yes, but—” Darby stopped, shaking her head.

Tutu waited. Darby could see this warm conversation would stall out if she didn't say what she'd been about to.

“Well, it's none of my business, and no one seems worried about it except for me, but why does Megan hate Cade?”

“Hate?”

“Well, she told me I wouldn't like him—not
like
, like, but you know, as a friend—if I knew what he was capable of.” Darby saw Tutu's eyebrows lift, but she said nothing. “And then there's something going on with the death of Megan's father. I don't want to be nosy, but why would she just let her horse go?

“It doesn't make sense,” Darby went on, “but it's not a good way to start a friendship, to go prying into someone's private life….” Darby's voice trailed off.
She stared at the greenish tea leaves in the bottom of her cup.

“Every family has its secrets,” Tutu said. “And even if the Katos aren't of the same blood as us, they are family. Ben would have taken over the ranch from Jonah—”

“That's another thing—I mean, excuse me,” Darby said, covering her mouth.

“Please, go ahead.”

“Why is Jonah so worried about someone taking over the ranch from him? He's not that old, but I've heard about”—Darby looked up at the cottage rafters and counted off Kimo, Pani, Ben, and Cade on her fingers—“
four
men who were supposed to take over the ranch from him.”

Tutu made a dismissing gesture, then asked, “Has no one told you about Ben's death?”

“Not really,” Darby said.

“On the day Ben died, he and Cade were moving cattle from the forest to the ranch, and Megan had tagged along,” Tutu began.

Darby felt as if she'd been socked in the stomach. “She was there when her father died?”

“Oh, yes,” Tutu said.

“And what happened?”

“Wild pigs somehow got underfoot. The horses spooked, and Ben fell.”

Darby was frustrated by the way Tutu shared
only the bare facts. She didn't explain how an experienced paniolo fell off his horse, or say why Cade and Ben had herded the cattle into the midst of wild pigs.

It didn't make sense, Darby thought. She'd been warned repeatedly about wild pigs, so they must be common. Hawaiian horsemen would know what to watch for, wouldn't they?

“And Megan—”

“Was with her father when he died,” Tutu said.

Darby held her hands over her eyes for a few seconds. She wasn't mourning Ben Kato, a man she'd never met. She was putting herself in Megan's place and thinking of her own father, back on the mainland.

Darby gave her head a quick shake. She pictured Megan slipping down from the saddle, running to her father's side, not caring what became of her green-broke filly.

“And that's when she lost her horse?” Darby guessed.

“Yes.”

It sounded as if Ben's death was just a terrible accident. So, what grudge was Megan holding against Cade?

“But Megan…” Darby tried to put her thoughts in order before going on. “Does she think Cade could have saved Ben? Or is it just easier to be mad instead of heartsick over her dad?”

“I wasn't there,” Tutu said, “but I helped later. No
one could have saved Ben after the horse fell on top of him.”

Darby tried to accept that and start a new conversation, but as long as Tutu was putting up with her curiosity, she had to ask one more thing.

Tutu hadn't been there.

Jonah hadn't been there.

But Megan had been, and her words about Cade pounded back at Darby:
You don't know what he's capable of.

“Tutu, could Cade have—totally without meaning to—caused the accident?”

“That,” Tutu said, “I do not know.”

T
utu left Darby brooding at the table.

Returning to her kitchen corner, Tutu said, “It's lunchtime. Late for it, really. Before time gets away from us and you have to make camp in the dark, you'll need some food in your stomach.”

“Thank you,” Darby said. She noticed again how much Tutu resembled her mother. Except, Darby thought, smiling, Ellen Kealoha Carter joked that she aspired to be “high maintenance.”

“Did my mom like the ranch?” Darby asked.

“She loved it,” Tutu insisted. “And now that you're here, I think she'll return.”

“I don't know,” Darby said. Her mother was pretty stubborn, and she had kept her promise not to
return to Hawaii for well over a decade.

“Wait and see,” Tutu said, arranging something that looked like a vegetable steamer on the stove. “Everyone who's lived on that ranch knows it's a treasure, and we've been very fortunate to keep it.”

Tutu left cooking and returned to the table. Darby looked up and met her great-grandmother's brown eyes. They looked misty for a few seconds, then cleared as she tapped her index finger on the table.

“This land is part of us, no matter what. When one of my children went with the old ways and one with the new, I split the land between them.”

“You split the ranch?” Darby repeated.

“Yes, I simply drew a line”—Tutu slid her fingertip across the table—“between the Two Sisters to the sea.” Tutu's imaginary boundary ran off the table's edge.

“Who gets the other half?” Darby's mind spun with confusion.

“Babette, your aunt Babe, as she'd want you to call her,” Tutu said, “is on one side, and my son, Jonah, is on the other.” Tutu drank off the cold tea in her cup, then smiled at Darby. “I'll bet he's wearing you out.”

“Oh, no…,” Darby fibbed politely.

“Age has not turned Jonah into a gentleman.”

“We're getting along okay now,” Darby said. “But in the beginning, we didn't. At first, he made me feel
more rebellious than my mother ever did, but at least he's not overly protective of me, like my mom.”

“I doubt he'll leave you alone in the forest for long,” Tutu told her. “He'd like a second chance at parenting, I think.”

“So he adopted Cade,” Darby said.

“He rescued Cade,” Tutu corrected, as if Darby should see the difference.

Just then, a rustling sound came from nearby. Tutu was busy and didn't seem to notice, so Darby leaned back in her chair and took a quick look around.

In the dimmest corner of the cottage, something moved.

Darby blinked and then recoiled with a gasp.

An owl was balanced on a wooden perch, blissfully chewing the head off a mouse.

Darby bolted out of her chair, knocking it over behind her at the sight of the owl devouring its victim.

The owl opened its yellow eyes and glared at her.

“You know better!” Tutu scolded, and it took Darby a second to realize her great-grandmother was speaking to the owl. “He's supposed to eat outside,” she said, aside, to Darby. “I don't know how he slipped that mouse past me.”

The owl's head swiveled, looking anywhere but at the humans, until Tutu held the door wide and pointed at it. The owl gulped, made two quick grooming
movements—one with his beak, the other with a claw—then swooped across the room.

Wind made by his flapping disturbed a carved walking stick that had been propped against the wall. It slammed to the cottage floor and the owl detoured away from the sound, skimming so near Darby's face that she heard air sing through its feathers. It banked left, fit its wide wings through the doorway, and was gone.

“Wow.” Darby wished Heather, her best friend from home, were here. She would have loved the surprise of it. Wild owls didn't show up in Pacific Pinnacles. And they sure didn't bring along a take-out rodent to eat in a corner of your living room.

But then Darby reminded herself that not everyone had their family roots in old Hawaii. Owls were the
‘aumakua
—a sort of guardian or reincarnated ancestor—of her family.

“I know
pueo
is our family guardian, but is that one a pet?” Darby asked.

Tutu tsked her tongue, then said, “More of a burglar.”

Darby shivered, noticing the sky outside had gone cloudy. “I should probably get going. I've got a map, but I'm not too sure how far it is to the corral.”

“I am,” Tutu said. “You're very close, and I'll help you on your way.”

“That would be wonderful,” Darby said, and her spirits soared at the security of having a guide.

“I'll finish making lunch while you send Navigator home,” Tutu said.

As quickly as her mood had soared, it plummeted.

Once she sent Navigator back to the ranch, she'd be a pedestrian again. Plus, she'd miss the brown gelding's sureness in finding his way home. But she'd promised to send him off when she got where she was going. If she didn't do it soon, Jonah would worry and come after her.

Hoku watched Darby emerge onto the cottage porch. Sorrel ears pointed at the girl as she balanced on one foot, then the other, tugging on her boots.

“Really fascinating, huh?” Darby teased her horse.

Hoku shook her head, then lowered her lips to the grass. The reins that were looped over Navigator's saddle horn barely allowed her to graze.

“How am I going to eat and keep hold of you at the same time?” Darby asked the filly, but it was Tutu who answered.

“Wait a bit more to send Navigator home. We'll sit on the step and watch them while we eat.”

With none of the stiffness Darby expected from someone so old, Tutu sat on the wooden step, holding a plate of food. “Please help yourself,” she said graciously.

First, Darby settled beside her great-grandmother and took a deep breath. She smelled ginger and sweet fruit, and her lungs expanded without a twinge.

“That tea was amazing,” she said politely.

Then Darby picked up one of the smooth, white dumplings Tutu called a pork bun. Even though she was a pretty adventurous eater, Darby started with a slice of mango before taking a polite nip of the unfamiliar pork bun.

“Oh my gosh, you made this?”

The half-sweet, half-savory bun was delicious.

“It's nothing. You just put barbecued pork in a sweetened dough, roll it up like a ball, and cook it over steam.” Tutu smiled as Darby popped the rest of the bun into her mouth. “You can get them in any Chinese restaurant in Los Angeles, I'm sure.”

“Maybe,” Darby said, “but I've never had one. Or two.”

Darby ate more mango before reaching for another pork bun. Then she stopped snacking. She didn't want to waddle all the way to the
kipuka
corral.

“Ready to go?” Tutu asked after she'd returned the plate to the house. One hand covered the top of her walking stick. Her shapeless dress and scarf ends floated on wind Darby couldn't feel as Tutu took strong strides toward her.

“Sure,” Darby said, then began talking to Hoku. “My favorite mustang,” she smooched as Hoku nickered.

Only Hoku's eyes moved as she tracked Darby, lifting Navigator's reins over his head, then unhooked the loop of Hoku's lead rope from his saddle horn.

Navigator swallowed his last mouthful of grass and trotted off before Darby could swat him on the rump as Jonah had told her to do.

“Let's go,” Tutu said, not giving Darby time to cast a melancholy look after the gelding.

They'd been walking only a few minutes when Darby heard something following them.

“That's Prettypaint,” Tutu said, but the horse was gone before Darby saw her.

“Is she a pinto?” Darby asked.

“No, I've never known what color to call her, or which breed she is. She came to me as a pale gray with blue-gray spots on her heels, and your mother named her Prettypaint.

“She never wanders far, in case I want to ride, but she seems to know when I want to walk. I think she notices my stick,” Tutu said, giving the ground a thump with her staff.

Darby was trying to do a quick calculation of her great-grandmother's age—her mom, Ellen, was thirty-five, so Jonah had to be at least fifty-five—when Tutu interrupted her thoughts.

“What? Are you surprised that an old lady like me still rides?”

“Not really,” Darby said, thinking that Tutu must be over seventy-five years old, “but I think it's cool that you do. Not many ladies your age—whatever that is—are equestrians.”

Tutu's laugh made Hoku turn with pricked ears.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Tutu offered her palm for the filly to sniff, then whispered to Hoku, “Tell your girl that a woman raised on the Island of Wild Horses would be a sorry soul if she didn't learn to ride early and well.”

Hoku glanced at Darby for permission, then extended her nose. Taking a noisy breath, the sorrel inhaled Tutu's scent, then allowed the old woman to stroke her mane.

That's how I want to be when I'm old,
Darby thought.
Exactly.

As they walked, Tutu told Darby that everything had come to Hawaii by wind, water, or wing.

“A seed could be blown here from another island, or washed up ashore or carried in the feathers of a bird,” Tutu said. “But it took so very long for meat and plant eaters to arrive, most of our native plants and animals are defenseless.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our briars don't have thorns. Our stinging nettles don't, either, and neither do our raspberries. Even the mint plants—which most animals shy away from—don't taste like mint. When pigs and chickens landed here, native plants served themselves up like a salad bar.”

Darby frowned. She'd never thought of plants protecting themselves. Still, she'd bet poison oak would get trampled a lot more often if people weren't afraid of breaking out in an itchy rash.

“And the poor birds.” Tutu shook her head. “They lived here so long without predators, they became flightless. When explorers from other islands arrived, all they had to do was walk up and club birds over the head.”

Darby winced.

All at once, Hoku stopped. The white star on her chest rose as she breathed deeply and turned her head from side to side, nostrils flared.

“I don't see anything,” Darby told the filly, but Hoku wasn't comforted.

“The rain forest is a good place to use senses other than your eyes,” Tutu said. “You can't see more than a few yards in each direction anyway, since the trees stand so close to one another.”

“I'm not sure my other senses are much good,” Darby said.

“They are,” Tutu said. “You've already learned to question what you think you know. You're open to other languages, like that of your horse. That's what being a horse charmer is about, yes?”

“I'm not sure I'm really a horse charmer like Jonah,” Darby said, ducking her head. Even though her grandfather had said much the same thing to her this morning, she still didn't trust her mana enough to accept Tutu's praise.

Darby pulled gently on the lead rope, but Hoku still wouldn't follow.

“You have more confidence in my horse charming
than Hoku does,” Darby complained, but quietly, so that she might pick up what the filly's swiveling ears heard.

“Here's where I leave you,” Tutu said, giving Darby a hug. “Which way does your map take you from here?”

Darby slid the map out of her pocket. “From here,” she said, turning the map so that the inverted
V
symbolizing Tutu's house was behind her, “I go past Pele's Porch?”

“It's just a hillside,” Tutu clarified.

“And the Steam Vent?” Darby raised her eyebrows.

“Just what it sounds like,” Tutu told her.

“And then over to the camp.”

“Easy enough,” Tutu said, “if you keep going downhill toward the sound of water.”

Tutu's thin arms wrapped Darby in a hug that smelled of cookies and violets. Then she stepped back. “Don't forget, I'm only fifteen minutes away if you need me.”

“I won't forget,” Darby said, and then an exhilaration of being on her own sparked through her, and Darby led Hoku away.

 

A little while later, Darby noticed a notch in the hillside and decided that must be Pele's Porch. It was a good place to stop and scope out the place where she and Hoku would be camping. That way, she could
see what she was walking into.

When she paused there, she had a view of the
kipuka
below.

The lush, primeval wood could have existed forever, wreathed by lava that stuck up like broken crystals around a forest of yellow and red flowered trees. Right in the center, almost like a bull's-eye, was the spot where she'd sleep tonight.

A bull's-eye? How ominous was that?

This is Hawaii,
Darby lectured herself.
There's nothing to be afraid of down there.

But she was taking no chances. She was in charge. If she led Hoku into danger, she'd have no one to blame except herself.

Okay, so the rain forest looked as if there was no threat in it.

Darby closed her eyes. There was no one around to make fun of her if she used her other senses the way Tutu had told her to do.

Darby sniffed. At first she caught nothing but the lush smell of green plants. Then, there was a dry, Halloweenish smell of brown leaves, and a moist smell like a shower that had misted up a mirror. Closer, she breathed in the sweet, leathery scent of Hoku.

Darby listened. Rainwater gushed gurgling over stones. A bird said,
E e vee.

“I'm not like a snake,” Darby told Hoku. “I can't flick out my forked tongue and taste danger.” She
didn't see, hear, smell, or taste anything wrong, Darby thought, so that left—

“Ow!” She gasped as Hoku lunged forward and stepped on the toe of her boot.