The Aloha Quilt (30 page)

Listening, spellbound, Bonnie took in the room, turning slowly in place, trying to
imagine confinement within the same four walls for an indefinite future. Tears came
to her eyes when she learned that Lili‘uokalani had been permitted only a single companion
during her long imprisonment, a devoted friend named Eveline Wilson who had shared
the queen’s sentence, except that she had been released one day each week to visit
her family.

How many women would sacrifice their own liberty to offer comfort and companionship
to a friend? How many women possessed such courage, such compassion? Bonnie wondered
if she could have relinquished her freedom for anyone but her own children, her own
mother, her own most beloved friends. She wanted to believe that she could have done
it for any of the Elm Creek Quilters, but she knew she would never be tested in such
a dramatic fashion and it was easy to offer what would never be required. She wondered
if any of the Elm Creek Quilters could have given up so much for her. Then she remembered
how quickly they had urged her to sell her share of Elm Creek Quilts, and she had
her melancholy answer.

Forcing the unpleasant reflections from her mind, she studied the quilt again, making
her way around the entire case to view the astonishing masterpiece from all angles,
stepping politely around the other visitors who were as engrossed in examining it
as she. Only one of the nine large blocks bore embroidery stitches but no names or
pictures; the others each preserved at least a few initials, names, or images.

The center block and focus of the masterpiece, divided into four quadrants by narrow
bands of white satin, preserved the history of the quilt and the rise and fall of
the last queen of Hawaii. The first quadrant of light blue silk displayed an embroidered
crown surrounded by a wreath of leaves worked in gold thread, and beneath it, a proud
testament:

Lydia Kamakaeha Liliuokalani
Born, Sept. 2nd. 1838.
Proclaimed Heir Apparent, Apr. 10th. 1877
Ascended the throne,
January 29th 1891.

The second quadrant put forth an ominous message in light thread on shattered red
silk: “Dethroned January 17th 1893. Uprising January 6th 1895.”

Continuing clockwise, the third quadrant of ocean blue silk recorded a fateful day,
the embroidered words flanked by blossoming branches: “H. M. Queen LILIUOKALANI abdicated
on the 24th of Jan. 1895.” A list of eight witnesses followed, and then the poignant
addition, “Companion, Mrs. E. T. K. K. Wilson, Iolani Palace, May 24th 1895.”

The fourth and last quadrant, the red silk almost completely deteriorated, offered
the provenance of the quilt in copper plate script worked in gold silk thread:

Her Majesty Queen
Liliuokalani
Imprisoned at Iolani Palace
January 17th 1895
Companion
Mrs Eveline Melita Kilioulani Kaopaokalani Wilson.
Released Sept 6th 1895
We began this quilt there
.

Bonnie wondered where the two women had finished it.

Where the four quadrants met at the very heart of the quilt was a circle of white
satin with an image drawn or painted upon it. Bonnie leaned over as far as she could
without touching the glass case and was able to make out a rendering of the Hawaiian
coat of arms, almost but not quite identical to the emblem Hinano had shown her upon
the front gates of the palace. Even after her abdication, conviction, and imprisonment,
Queen Lili‘uokalani had considered Hawaii the center of her creation.

Bonnie drew away from the quilt to allow others to gather around it, her gaze traveling
around the room. She imagined the queen and her faithful friend sitting quietly by
the window, stitching irregular shapes to muslin foundations, sharing scissors and
spools of silk thread, reminiscing about happier days in the palace, encouraging each
other with hopeful words of better days to come. Prayer, reading, companionship, and
artistic expression had seen them through the long, sorrowful days of their confinement,
when their movements were restricted and only their imaginations could take flight.

When the narrator prompted Bonnie to continue on to the next room, she quickly paused
the recording. As other visitors stepped away, Bonnie returned to the glass case and
gazed again at the quilt, marveling at the exquisite detail,
reflecting upon the women who had created it. The quilt was a treasure of both art
and history, for it was a tangible link to the imprisoned queen and her companion,
a testament to their friendship and forbearance. Bonnie was grateful for whatever
act of chance or wisdom had preserved the quilt through the ages so that it could
speak to generations to come. So that it could speak to her.

Suddenly she became aware of Hinano standing quietly at her side. With tears in her
eyes, she thanked him for bringing her to the ‘Iolani Palace.

“It would have been tragic for you to come all the way to Hawaii and leave without
seeing the Queen’s Quilt,” he said. “My friend had room in his plane, so I thought,
why not?”

He made it seem so simple and clear, as if it weren’t obvious how moved she was by
the queen’s story and how grateful she was to learn it. Bonnie smiled at him, and
together they resumed the audio tour. The remaining few rooms were as lovely and interesting
as those they had already toured, but Bonnie’s thoughts remained in the queen’s imprisonment
room with the priceless treasure preserved there.

After the tour concluded, they returned to the old barracks building so that Bonnie
could browse through the gift shop. She was delighted to find a small booklet with
beautiful photographs of the Queen’s Quilt as well as a more detailed history than
had been included on the audio tour. She quickly snapped up ten copies, one for her
and one for each of the Elm Creek Quilters, to include with their Christmas gifts.

Near the checkout counter, she spotted a poster of another antique quilt much different
in style from either the Queen’s Quilt or the traditional Hawaiian appliqué quilt.
Four rectangular Hawaiian flags, each pieced with a Union Jack canton on a field of
eight red, white, and blue stripes, framed a central
white square bearing the Hawaiian coat of arms in appliqué. Above the coat of arms
was an appliquéd scroll with the embroidered words
Ku‘u Hae Aloha
.

“ ‘My Beloved Flag,’ ” Hinano translated. “After Queen Lili‘uokalani was overthrown
and Hawaii became a republic, many Hawaiian quilters made flag quilts like this one
to commemorate the monarchy, and maybe also to mourn its passing. I always considered
these quilts a form of rebellion, but maybe rebellion is too strong a word for it.”

“A remembrance?” Bonnie offered. “A protest?”

“A protest,” Hinano agreed. “A quiet, eloquent, resolute protest. The men of the provisional
government brought down the Kingdom of Hawaii, but they couldn’t make the people forget
it.”

Bonnie nodded, studying the poster. For generations mainland quilters had expressed
their political beliefs in patchwork and appliqué. It did not surprise her that Hawaiian
quilters had also taken up needle and thread to articulate what must have been strong
and intensely personal feelings about the upheaval in their nation.

“My grandmother made a flag quilt much like this one, except the Hawaiian coat of
arms is more detailed and on a navy background instead of white,” continued Hinano.
“My sister has it, but it’s fragile and she rarely takes it out of climate-controlled
storage. I’ll have her show it to you someday.”

Bonnie thanked him, honored that he would consider allowing her a rare glimpse of
the precious family heirloom. She wondered, though, when she would have the opportunity,
or if she ever would.

After Bonnie made her purchases, Hinano drove them to Waikiki, where they walked along
a beach crowded with sun-bathers, families, and surfers. The sidewalks were packed
with
tourists, most of them Japanese as far as Bonnie could tell, and the streets were
lined with restaurants, clubs, convenience stores, and high-end retailers. After the
contemplative reverence of the ‘Iolani Palace, Waikiki seemed too crowded and bustling
to suit Bonnie and she found herself leading Hinano down the beach away from the throng.

“Look there.” When Bonnie failed to glance in the right direction, Hinano took her
by the shoulders and steered her toward the southwest, to what seemed to her to be
a low, jagged mountain jutting out into the sea. “That’s Diamond Head, one of the
most recognizable images of Hawaii.”

“I don’t recognize it,” Bonnie said. “It can’t be that famous.”

“I guess you must be right and millions of other people are wrong.”

“I guess so. It’s sad for them, isn’t it?”

“It’s probably the most famous volcanic crater in the world,” he said, sighing with
infinite patience. “Is there some reason you’re giving me a hard time about this?”

Yes. Because she was nervous, because his hands had lingered on her shoulders much
longer than necessary to turn her in the right direction to see the landmark. Fortunately,
her back was to him, and he could not see the conflicting emotions written plainly
upon her face. “Sorry. Continue the lesson, professor.”

“I don’t know if I want to now.”

She risked a glance over her shoulder at him. “Please?”

“All right,” he relented, and he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze as if in reproach.
She returned her gaze to Diamond Head as if she found it endlessly fascinating. “In
the nineteenth century, British sailors who spotted the crater from a distance saw
calcite crystals in the lava rock glimmering in the sunlight. They assumed the soil
was full of diamonds.”

“I bet they were disappointed when they discovered the truth.”

“Maybe not too much. The great view alone is worth the climb.”

She shrugged, but even then his hands remained on her shoulders. “You and I might
think so, but most people would prefer a mountain made of diamonds.”

“After the United States took over Oahu, they built a strategic defense post up at
the top. You can still walk through the underground observation deck at the summit.
We should go there sometime. You like to walk. Want to go for a hike next time my
friend has room in his plane?”

“I thought you said it was a volcano.”

“I said it was a volcanic crater. Eh, your voice is shaking! What are you scared of?”

“Nothing.”

“You really think I’d drag you up the side of an active volcano?”

“I don’t know. You might.”

“Diamond Head’s been extinct for more than a hundred and fifty thousand years.”

“It must be safe, then,” she said, willing indifference into her voice, wanting to
step away from his hands on her shoulders, wanting to hold perfectly still so he would
keep touching her.

It had been a long time since a man had touched her in kindness, in friendship, in
desire.

“It’s safe. You sure you’re okay?” Hinano spun her around and lifted her chin with
his finger. “This sun too much for you, snowbird?”

“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “I can handle a little Hawaiian sun. I’m tougher than
you—”

Then she stopped speaking because he was kissing her, his lips warm and gentle as
they lingered on hers.

Suddenly he released her and stepped away. “I know you’re tough,” he said quietly.
“You say it like a joke, but you’re strong. Stronger than you know.”

Speechless, she stood frozen in place for a moment after he inclined his head down
the beach the way they had come. He was already a few yards ahead before she shook
off her astonishment and caught up with him.

They returned to the bustling streets. Hinano suggested lunch at a noodle shop with
a view of the ocean, small and off the main thoroughfare. The entire menu was in Japanese,
but Hinano translated enough of it for her to choose a dish that she thought she’d
like. Hinano offered her a taste of his shoyu ramen in exchange for a bite of her
miso ramen, and as they placed small samples on each other’s plates, Bonnie couldn’t
help but think of all the times Craig had asked, “Are you going to eat that?” and
then helped himself to food off her plate without waiting for a reply—at restaurants,
at home—from the time they were in college through their last futile attempt to reconcile.

Craig. She really didn’t want to think about him at the moment.

They returned the borrowed car to the airport parking garage, hid the keys in the
folded newspaper, and met Hinano’s pilot friend back at the hangar. The original passengers
had not returned, but three new business travelers, a man and two women, joined them
for the flight back to Maui. The din in the cabin restricted conversation, but Bonnie
was relieved to gaze out the window, as alone as she could be with her thoughts. Over
lunch their conversation had been light, restrained, and Bonnie couldn’t help wondering
if Hinano regretted the kiss,
if he wished he could take it back. If he apologized for it, she didn’t know what
she would do. She couldn’t bear to think that he might be sitting on the other side
of the aisle chagrinned and embarrassed, wishing he had never invited her to Oahu.

They were halfway back to the inn in his old blue hatchback when the words she had
dreaded finally came. “Eh, snowbird, I’m sorry about that back there.”

“Sorry about what?” she said indifferently, but her heart sank.

“I was out of line. I know you’re going through some stuff now—”

“Don’t worry about it. I know we’re just friends.”

“Oh.” He kept his gaze fixed upon the road ahead. “Okay. Friends.”

“I mean, if that’s what you want to be.”

“If that’s all you want—”

“That’s not all I want but—” She wrung her hands in her lap. “I’m still married.”

He was silent for a long moment. “I thought you were separated.”

“I am, but—” She didn’t know how to explain it. “I can’t do to him what he did to
me.”

“Okay. I get that.” Hinano nodded, but he didn’t look at her. “You’ll be leaving soon
anyway, so I guess it’s just as well.”