Mama’s eyes focused. “Naupaka, a beautiful princess, yeah, fell in love with a poor boy she could never marry, eh, so Naupaka vowed to stay in the mountains, and Kaua’i, he remained near the ocean. Last time together,” Mama said, as her hand rose to her hair, “Naupaka took the flower from her hair and gave half to Kaua’i. All the nearby plants so upset, yeah, the next day they bloom only half flowers in honor of the parted lovers.” Mama paused, then said, “You back now, eh?”

Maile nodded. “Yes, I’m back.”

Afterward, Maile pushed her wheelchair back out to the porch for some air and Mama pointed to her work table. She was surprised when Mama leaned over and grabbed a piece of fishing line. “Sit, yeah,” Mama said, her eyes darting back and forth as her face lit up and she began to teach her how to string a lei with the plumeria flowers on the table. The sweet fragrance was calming as Maile pushed the needle and line through the stem and out through the eye of the flower, one after another, while Mama watched, rolling and unrolling a ti leaf between her fingers.

“Ti leaf brings good luck, yeah,” Mama said, looking down at the green leaf. “Wards off the evil spirits,” she added. She stared at Maile longer than she was comfortable. “Nothing to worry about now, eh, the ti leaf will keep you safe.”

Maile listened as Mama continued with her conversation. “Good luck, yeah,” she said, while Maile continued to string the plumeria lei. She breathed in and out slowly, the first time she’d felt completely comfortable since returning to Hilo.

Not long after she finished stringing her lei, Daniel and Auntie Leia returned.

“She didn’t give you too much trouble, yeah?” Auntie Leia asked.

“No trouble at all,” Maile answered. “Mama taught me how to string a lei.” She held it up for them to see, thrilled at the accomplishment.

“You did a fine job, yeah,” Auntie Leia said, inspecting her work. “Could always use an extra pair of hands,” she added.

Maile felt light-headed at the thought. “Just call any time you need help,” she said.

* * *

Later, as Daniel drove her back to the green bungalow, Maile remained quiet, looking out the window with hopes of glimpsing a naupaka flower.

“Everything okay?” Daniel asked as the truck slowed and bounced over dips in the road.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Maile said, and smiled. In her hand was the ti leaf Mama had given her for luck.

Ghost Voices

Ghost Voices

MARIKO, 1912