The Aloha Quilt (22 page)

Eyeing the impressive spread, Bonnie didn’t think it would be possible to take even
a single spoonful of everything. As
she passed through the buffet line, she gave in to other guests’ urging to pile her
plate high. “You have to start eating like a Hawaiian,” one man told her, “and at
a luau, we don’t just eat until we’re full or stuffed, but until we can barely move!”

Balancing her plate, a glass of wine, and utensils wrapped in a napkin, Bonnie spotted
Claire and Eric sitting on a blanket spread on the grass on the other side of the
yard. When Claire waved frantically for her to join them, she made her way to them,
realizing only after she sat down that Hinano had not followed her. She extinguished
a flash of disappointment and quickly launched into a reminiscence of a long-ago Thanksgiving
at Penn State, when she and Claire had tried to cook a Thanksgiving feast in the dorm
for all of their friends who had remained on campus for the holiday rather than miss
the football game against Notre Dame. They lost the game and burned the frozen pumpkin
pie so badly that smoke billowed throughout the entire floor, setting their Resident
Assistant into a panic and prompting an official, campus-wide investigation into the
failure of the smoke detectors. Some people might have considered that a holiday disaster,
but it had become one of Bonnie and Claire’s favorite memories of Penn State.

Bonnie savored every delicious morsel of pork and turkey, cornbread and sausage stuffing,
taro and poi, and a surprising number of side dishes made with Spam, macaroni, or
both. “I don’t think I could eat like a Hawaiian every day,” Bonnie told Claire and
Eric, groaning, when she had finally eaten her fill. She lay back on the blanket the
couple had spread out, propped herself up on her elbows, and considered defying social
conventions and unbuttoning her slacks for greater comfort.

“Not even Hawaiians eat like Hawaiians every day,” remarked
Eric, taking another bite of succulent pork and licking his fingertips.

Bonnie smiled and let her gaze wander, taking in the festive scene, so unlike any
other Thanksgiving she had ever celebrated. She spotted Hinano at a table on the lanai,
still eating and engaged in animated conversation with Kai and a few other men. He
seemed completely engrossed in the moment and the pleasure of his friends’ company,
and when he threw back his head and laughed, Bonnie also saw no trace of the grief
Midori had described. But looking around, Bonnie understood what Midori had meant
when she had said Hinano had not been forced to raise Kai alone. Surrounded by their
family and the many friends considered
ohana
, he had not been truly alone. And yet it was not the same, not complete. It never
could have been.

When Bonnie offered to clear away their dishes, Eric and Claire, who were as full
as she was, made only token protests as they handed her their plates and stretched
out on the blanket. Hinano and Kai had joined the band, filling the yard with such
lovely music that Bonnie’s heart ached to listen. On her way back to her friends,
she passed a few of the women from the Laulima quilt guild. They seemed delighted
to see her and invited her to sit down, so she did, and happily joined in their lively
debate about the best needles to use for appliqué. Bonnie had tried nearly every manufacturer’s
best varieties at every Quilt Market trade show for more than a decade, so she had
much to share. She hardly noticed the passing of time as the discussion turned to
preferred threads and favorite fabric designers, until one of her new friends put
on a sweater and she noticed Midori’s son-in-law making his way around the lanai and
the yard lighting tiki torches.

The air had grown much cooler with the approach of
evening, so Bonnie excused herself and went to retrieve her sweater, which she had
left in the car. Carrying Eric’s keys, she made her way down the street alone, humming
along to the music and contemplating dessert.

She was on her way back when she spied Hinano walking down the gravel driveway. “Hey,
snowbird,” he said. “Flying off early?”

Bonnie had to laugh. It was almost twilight, hardly early; they had been eating and
celebrating for hours. “I went to the car for my sweater,” she said. “I don’t think
anyone’s ready to leave just yet.”

Hinano nodded and fell in step beside her as she walked back to the house. “Can’t
leave without dessert. You’ll insult all those aunties and grandmas who’ve been cooking
for days.”

“How did you know I haven’t had dessert yet?”

Hinano barely hesitated. “No crumbs on your shirt.”

Amused, she realized he had been watching her. “I think I know how to eat a piece
of pie without making a mess of myself. I’m not four years old.”

“Lucky guess, then.” He jerked his head toward the buffet tables, where the empty
platters from the luau feast had been replaced with cake plates and pie pans with
tempting treats of every variety. “Come on. I know who baked what and I can advise
you.”

She pretended to consider it. “All right, but I must insist upon Maui coffee with
my dessert—only Maui coffee.”

Hinano grinned and waved an arm gallantly to allow her to precede him. She followed
the example of others ahead of her in line and took tiny pieces of three different
treats—a narrow slice of pineapple pecan pie, a piece of something that looked like
white custard that Hinano said would taste like coconut
pudding, and of course, a thin slice of Midori’s pineapple upside-down cake.

After they found seats on the lanai, Hinano disappeared for a few moments and returned
with two cups of coffee. One sip told Bonnie he had fixed hers exactly the way she
liked it—black with two sugars—although she had not told him her preferences. He must
have been paying attention when they’d had coffee together.

“How are you doing with that list I gave you?” Hinano asked as he sat down beside
her.

“I’m about a third of the way through it,” Bonnie replied. “So far I’ve only seen
the sites and events in Lahaina, places I can walk to from the Hale Kapa Kuiki. It’s
harder to get farther afield.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” He took a bite of chocolate brownie. “I can drive you
if you want.”

She hadn’t meant to hint that he should offer her a ride. “That’s not the problem.
Claire would let me borrow her car. It’s just difficult to get away because we’re
so busy at the inn and trying to get Aloha Quilt Camp off the ground.”

“I see.” He sipped his coffee. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind. I’ll
try to think of a few other places you should add to that list too.”

Bonnie thanked him and they fell silent, listening to the music. Kai was leading some
of his young cousins in a rousing, rather aggressive tune that sounded vaguely familiar,
although Bonnie was sure she had never heard it played on ukulele and slack-key guitar
before.

“Metallica,” said Hinano, noting her scrutiny. “Kai likes to push the boundaries of
the traditional ukulele repertoire.”

“I wonder where he gets that from,” teased Bonnie.

“His mother,” said Hinano absently, his eyes on his son.

“I was going to say from you,” said Bonnie, surprised. “The first time I came to your
music store, you were playing a Beatles song on your ukulele.”

He looked away from Kai to smile at her, eyebrows raised. “You remember that?”

“Well, yes.” Bonnie felt strangely embarrassed. “It’s not every day you hear the Beatles
on the ukulele.”

His brow furrowed. “Yeah it is.”

“Maybe for you,” said Bonnie. “Not for normal people.”

His laugh, rich and booming, earned them glances of amused curiosity from the
ohana
sitting nearby. “Snowbird, around here, I’m the normal one. You’re the—”

“I know. I’m the
haole
.”

He winced. “You know that’s not a compliment, right?”

“I know.”

“I never called you
haole
.”

“I know that, too.” He had referred to rich
haole
on Halloween, but he had not meant her. A teenager had shouted the word at her a
few days after her arrival, when she had carelessly stepped into the path of his bicycle
while crossing the street. She had heard it a few times since, only occasionally directed
at her. “I think it’s a bit racist, actually.”

“If you knew the history, you might not think so. Are you trying to start another
fight?”

“Not really.” They did seem to debate more than converse. Then again, she sometimes
disagreed with the Elm Creek Quilters and their friendship was an unbreakable bond.
In contrast, she had rarely argued with Craig until his first cyber-affair, and look
how that had turned out. Still, she didn’t feel like arguing at the moment. “I’m sure
you could make a good case for why it’s okay to call white people a derogatory label,
but you won’t change my mind.”

“Then I won’t try.” He finished his brownie and started in on his second dessert.
As a good nephew, he too had chosen a piece of his aunt’s pineapple upside-down cake.
“I kind of agree with you, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

They fell silent again, listening to the band play a more traditional Hawaiian song.
Afterward, Kai handed the ukulele to an older man and strolled off to the back of
the yard with a very pretty young woman of Japanese heritage. “His girlfriend,” said
Hinano as they watched the couple disappear into the crowd. “They met at school. I
guess they’ve been dating for five months, and I only found out about her Tuesday,
when Kai called to tell me he was bringing a guest home.”

“He never mentioned her and they’ve been dating for five months?” asked Bonnie. “You
know what that means.”

Hinano nodded grimly. “It’s serious.”

“She’s lovely, and she seems like a nice girl.”

“How would you know? You haven’t even spoken to her.”

“I said she
seems
like a nice girl.” Bonnie hoped he wouldn’t press her to explain what she based that
assumption upon, because she was only trying to reassure him. “Come on, tell the truth.
You like her, right?”

“Yeah, I guess I like her.”

“I knew it.”

“Kai likes her, and that’s what’s important. He’s a smart kid and a good judge of
character.” Hinano sighed heavily and pushed his empty plate away. “Dis kine ting
not easy for an old
makua kane
, you know? It’s been just me and Kai for so long. Hey, you want another history lesson?”

“Now?” said Bonnie, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in topic.

“Yeah, now. Now’s great. This lesson’s topical.”

“Okay.” Bonnie finished her last bite of cake and took a sip of coffee. “I didn’t
bring anything to take notes.”

“Don’t worry. This won’t be on the quiz.” Hinano settled back in his chair and folded
his arms over his broad chest. “American Thanksgiving coincides with an important
season for the Hawaiian people called
Makahiki
.”

“
Makahiki
?” Bonnie echoed.

He nodded. “The word can mean ‘year’ or ‘new year,’ but in ancient times it referred
to a four-month season marking the beginning of the new year in the Hawaiian calendar.”

“I didn’t know you had your own calendar.”

“It’s based upon the stars, as you might expect of a seagoing island people. There’s
an important star cluster called Na Huihui o Makali‘i that’s honored in ancient tradition
as the origin of the first Hawaiian people. You probably know it as the Pleiades.”

“Or Seven Sisters,” Bonnie interjected. “There’s a quilt block named after it.”

“No kidding.” Hinano mulled that over. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hawaiian
quilt inspired by the Makali‘i. I wonder why not. Maybe too hard to draw.” He brushed
aside the digression with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, in ancient times, priests of
the old religion would watch the night skies from temples on the western sides of
the Hawaiian islands. When the Makali‘i began to rise at sunset and set at dawn, it
marked the beginning of winter, Ho‘o-ilo, the rainy season. Ho‘o-ilo lasted about
four months, until the Makali‘i began to rise in the east at sunrise and weren’t visible
at night, marking the start of Kau, or summer.”

“So we’re in the rainy season now.”

“Yeah, not so you’d notice in Lahaina. We don’t get much rain even in Ho‘o-ilo.” He
turned his chair toward hers and
leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “These four months were a time of
peace and celebration. War was
kapu
, absolutely forbidden. People celebrated with sports and festivals, sometimes with
villages competing against one another. As the rains replenished the land, the people
were also meant to seek spiritual and cultural renewal within themselves.”

“Four months of peace and celebration sounds wonderful,” Bonnie remarked. “More societies
should adopt that practice.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“Midori was right. You
are
an expert on Hawaiian history.”

“I didn’t even give you the whole picture, just a sketch. And I could be making all
of this up on the spot for all you know.”

“That’s why I plan to verify everything you’ve told me with Midori before I invite
you to come speak to our campers.”

“So this was an audition? I thought we were just talking.”

“Surprise. I hope you’ll play the ukulele for them, too.”

“I guess I could do that.” Hinano thought it over. “Okay, snowbird. I won’t mind entertaining
your quilt campers every once in a while.”

“Thanks. I’m sure your aunt will be pleased.”

“I’m not doing it just for her.” His eyes on the night sky, Hinano stood and gestured
for her to join him. “Come on. Let’s go look for the Makali‘i.”

She rose and followed him through the tables and clusters of partygoers, hesitating
only a moment before taking his hand when he reached back for her. They wove their
way to the edge of the party, and then down the gravel driveway, where he abruptly
dropped her hand. He had only wanted to make sure he didn’t lose her in the crowd,
Bonnie realized, still feeling his touch. A reasonable precaution, but nothing more.
Which was fine.