The only one she couldn’t save in time was her own sweet Leia. All those years ago, there’d been a hurt so bad it stole her voice and she wouldn’t tell Mama. Neither Nori nor Mariko would talk. Tell me. Tell me, she willed her daughter, but Leia wouldn’t or couldn’t and never did. Still, Mama knew she’d found happiness now, more talented at stringing leis than she ever was. The mistake that most folks made was assuming that she didn’t see anything sitting at home stringing up her leis. But it wasn’t so; she saw all the wounded birds. She felt their hurt. She knew they had to fight harder to be happy. They were the ones who always held a special place in her heart.

* * *

Mama opened her eyes when she heard a scratching sound. Her gaze followed the path of a green and yellow gecko that had paused and clung to the screen in front of her. She reached out, only to have it scurry away.

The warm wind picked up. Mama heard the hibiscus flowers sweeping against the side of the house and the rustling branches of the monkey pod tree in the front yard. Like an old friend. She breathed another mouthful of air, catching a faintly familiar scent in the wind, just like those preserved black-colored, thousand-year-old eggs the Chinese grocer used to try and sell her. “I’m no fool, yeah,” she mumbled aloud. “Buried in clay and ash for a time don’t make an egg a thousand years old, yeah, even if it looks and smells like it.”

Wasn’t the egg, though. Mama tried to remember what the scent was. A thread pulled at her. She suddenly felt that sly, crafty animal creeping back in and trying to snatch away her thoughts again. She could feel it hovering, but this time Mama fought back, tasting her old stubbornness, that quick rush of anger.

“Go away!” she hissed. Mama’s hand slapped down hard on the armrest of the chair. “Go away!”

And suddenly the cunning animal slowly crept back at her threats. Mama smiled and sat back in her chair, breathing in and out, only to finally remember what the particular scent in the air was.

Pele had returned.

21. Puli Plantation

21

Puli Plantation

The sugar train released a plume of steam, chugging and wheezing up the mountain toward Puli Plantation. Pedro watched the firebox and tossed a shovelful of coal into the fire to keep the pressure balanced as they headed up the mountain. Koji turned back to glimpse the last bit of ocean through the trees before the train slowed down and curved around the bend on its way to the summit. He’d seen the sight a thousand times and never tired of it.