We sat outside drinking wine and not saying much for about half an hour.

"It's nice to see you in a dress," he finally said. "How come you always wear pants?"

I stared at him. "Did you really just say that?"

"Yeah. What's wrong? You have great legs. You should show them off more."

"Thank you, and duly noted. So, tell me what we're going to do in Kaua'i while we wait for my meeting?"

"Well, I thought we could do some beach stuff and eat at a couple of great restaurants. Maybe do a little hiking and sightseeing. You know, pretty much the tourist full monty."

"If we have time, I'd like to go up and see where I lived when I was a little kid," I said. "It's probably all different now, but I'd still like to see it. It's where my mom was laid to rest." I couldn't go on. My throat had closed up so tight I was having a hard time breathing, let alone talking.

"Hey, we'll go wherever you want," Hatch said. "Are you sure you'll be able to find the place? Thirty years is a long time."

"Yeah." I barely croaked it out. "I'll find it. I remember it like it was last month."

A few days after her death, my mom's friends had performed a *return to the womb' ceremony while I watched from the beach. I remember shaking my head *no' when someone offered to take me out on their surfboard to watch them release her ashes into the ocean. My most vivid memory was trying to comfort my little brother. He was naked like most of the kids whose parents had once lived at Taylor Camp. When the paddlers pushed off he began running down the beach screaming *mama, mama' as if it'd finally dawned on him she was gone forever.

I'm still not exactly sure how my mom died. I'd been told she'd died of *cerebral hemorrhage' which sounded like a stroke, but as I grew older I overheard whispered references to a drug overdose and even suicide. It isn't something I like to think about.

"Look, I want us to have fun," Hatch said. "But if it's important to you to see some stuff from your past, we can do that too. I just hope it won't b.u.m you out. Time and tide, and all that." He squeezed my hand.

I nodded. "Oh, I forgot to tell you something. The lawyer letter was addressed to my legal name."

"But you told me hardly anybody knows your real name."

"That's right."

"You think the lawyer is going to talk about your mom?"

"What else could it be?" I said.

"Well, whatever it is, I'll be right there with you. We can handle this, Pali."

I stayed overnight at Hatch's but my mind was elsewhere. He was tender and considerate, but I picked up an undercurrent of exasperation. I didn't blame him. I was so consumed with *what if' scenarios about my mom I was just going through the motions with Hatch.

The next morning I started lining up vendors for Eleanor and Charles' beachside wedding on the Fourth of July. I had two other weddings before I left on the twenty-fifth so I'd be busy right up until it was time to get on the plane. But busy was good. Busy meant I had no time to fret about lawyers and meetings and ugly revelations about my mom.

On the Friday before we were scheduled to leave for Kaua'i I went to Farrah's store.

"Hey, how's it going?" I said over the sound of the tinkly bell.

"If it was going any better, it'd be gone," she said. "You getting amped about your trip?"

"Yeah. I've been working so hard this month it'll be good to get away, but I still can't imagine what the *urgent family matter' could be."

"Ours is not to wonder why," Farrah said. "In any case, don't get b.u.mmed about seeking the truth. The truth shall set you free, right?"

"Yeah, right. But I'm hoping the truth isn't so lousy it totally blots out any good memories I have of my mom."

"We're talking about your mother, Pali. You loved her and she loved you. No matter what happened, she was a good mom."

"What kind of a *good mom' OD's or kills herself when she has two little kids to raise? I mean, my dad was already in the wind. She left us orphans. If Auntie Mana hadn't stepped up and taken us in, we'd have ended up in the system."

"I know. But don't go jumping ship before your feet are wet. Maybe you'll find out something good. Like maybe she got swept out to sea trying to rescue somebody. Or maybe she was helping sick people and she got sick, too. You know, like Father Damien."

"The whole Taylor Camp thing was pretty sick. A bunch of hippies living in tree houses smoking dope and picking up welfare checks. They weren't *do-gooder' hippies, Farrah. They were selfish degenerates. When the State kicked them off the beach they just went and squatted somewhere else."

"Even so. We're talking about your ohana. And as screwed up as family can be, it's still family."

Only Farrah could make the absurd sound almost rational.

I told her I wouldn't be coming in to my shop over the weekend. "I have a wedding in Kapalua tomorrow and then another one at Napili on Sunday. Our plane leaves early Monday morning."

"Well, have a great time with Hatch," said Farrah. "And don't worry about that meeting at the lawyer's. Whatever it is-it is, right? When are you coming home?"

"After the meeting. I think the flight's at five o'clock."

"Give me a shout when you're back, okay?"

A customer came in and Farrah leaned in and gave me a quick hug. I darted out the back. No matter what happened in Kaua'i, I knew my true ohana was right there on Maui.

CHAPTER 4.

On Monday morning the plane left bright and early. We flew into Honolulu and then caught a flight to Lihue. We arrived in Kaua'i at eight in the morning. Most of our fellow pa.s.sengers spent the short flight pecking away on computers so I figured the first flight of the day must cater to people going over on business. When we landed, Hatch and I exchanged a glance before racing across the street to the rental car building. Everything moves slow on the neighbor islands, including the rental car lines.

"Who'd you book the car from?" I said as we sprinted down the row of rental car kiosks.

"Oh man. I knew there was something I forgot."

We screeched to a halt. I looked around and noticed chickens in the airport parking lot.

"Look," I said. "Someone's chickens escaped."

We started at the first counter and worked our way down asking each clerk if they had any cars available and if they offered kama'aina rates. We ended up with a nondescript white Nissan Altima. Hatch got a discount because he was a local firefighter. My Auntie Mana used to say, *You don't ask, you don't get.' Locals are never shy about asking for deals and special favors. It's as much an island tradition as shooting the thumb and pinkie shaka sign instead of waving.

"It's too early to check into our room," said Hatch. "You want to do some sightseeing?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Since we're staying in Poipu let's check out the West Side. If we get back to the hotel around three they should have the room ready."

We headed west on Highway 50 toward Waimea Canyon, but Hatch first wanted to stop and see the *Spouting Horn' in Lawa'i Bay. We knew we were at the right place when we saw three tour busses lined up in the parking lot. We got out and there were chickens pecking in the gra.s.s strip next to the lot.

"What's with the chickens?" Hatch said.

I shook my head. "No clue. Chickens running around like this on Maui would be teriyaki by now."

The locals had fashioned a make-shift craft fair with a gauntlet of tarp-covered tables on the path to view the sight. At first I looked away as I marched past table after table of hand-made jewelry and cheesy souvenirs, but about halfway down something caught my eye. It was a gla.s.s Christmas ornament decorated with a glittery sun, moon, and stars. Three cut crystals had been tied on the hanging string about an inch apart. A shaft of light hit the crystals creating a scattering of tiny rainbows on the ground. It looked handmade, but it was tough to tell if it had been made locally or in a sweatshop in China.

"I'll bet Farrah would love this," I said.

"It's pretty. But what is it?"

"It's a Christmas ornament."

"But it's June. Christmas is six months away."

As a firefighter, Hatch lives almost exclusively in the present. The bell sounds and off they go. They don't plan ahead, they react when needed. Although they're constantly training so they'll be effective when the call comes, their everyday work life is pretty much dictated moment to moment.

"Believe me, she'll love it. She'll hang it in her window until it's time to put up her Christmas tree."

I bought the ornament and we continued toward the fenced sh.o.r.eline.

The "Spouting Horn" is a blowhole in a lava tube formed when volcanoes were still erupting on Kaua'i. The tube runs all the way to the ocean. Every few minutes the waves force water and air through a shelf in the tube and create an upward spray of water that looks like a geyser. A posted sign describing the site said water can shoot as high as fifty feet, but it looked like only half that high to me.

What got my attention was the weird moaning and sighing sounds coming from the blowhole.

"You hear that?" said Hatch. "Sounds kinda s.e.xy."

I gave him a playful dig to the ribs. "How does your mind work? You probably think a tsunami siren sounds s.e.xy."

A perky tour guide waving a yellow plastic flower on the end of a stick motioned to a cl.u.s.ter of tourists. They trotted over to where we were standing.

"This blowhole is one example of the ingenuity of the ancient Hawaiians to make sense of their world," she said. "The early inhabitants lost many people to the undertow in this area. They figured this stretch of coastline along Lawa'i Bay must be guarded by a giant mo'o or lizard. The belief was that anyone who came down here to fish or swim would get killed by the mo'o and so they stayed away. One day a man named Liko bravely went into the bay. It didn't take long for the mo'o to spot him and go after him. But Liko was quick. He swam to the lava tube and popped to the surface through a hole in the roof of the tube. The giant mo'o followed but got stuck because the hole was too small for the enormous lizard to get through. The sounds you hear are the groans of the trapped mo'o. See his steamy breath spraying from the hole? He's still there, wrestling to free himself from his agonizing fate."

"Still think it sounds s.e.xy?" I whispered to Hatch.

"Maybe it does to an enormous girl lizard," he said with a wink.

After the Spouting Horn we doubled back and made our way to Highway 530 and then on to Highway 50, the main south-to-west road on Kaua'i.

We approached the town of Waimea. Waimea is a funky little town that reminded me of Pa'ia back home. It has a stately columned bank, but the rest of the town is mostly aging wooden buildings that appear to have seen their share of termites. As we drove through town I noticed a bright yellow clapboard building with "Toto's Shave Ice" painted on the side. In case there was any question of what they were selling, there was also a five-foot high wooden tent with a painted rainbow shave ice cone on each side.

"I love shave ice," said Hatch. "Let's get some after I check out this front tire. The light's been on since we picked up the car and I don't want a flat in the middle of nowhere."

We pulled into a gas station. Hatch got out and went to find someone with a tire gauge. I got out to stretch my legs. Hatch returned and a few minutes later a guy came out wiping his hands on a purple rag.

"You got a problem with the tire?" he said. A patch on his shirt said, Keoni.

"Yeah," Hatch said, pointing to the offending tire. "Can I use your gauge?"

"No problem, man. I do it."

Hatch beat the guy to the ground in an attempt to unscrew the valve stem cap before Keoni could get there.

"Man, it's cool," said Keoni in a somewhat offended tone. "I do stuff like this all day."

Hatch stood by looking uncomfortable with another man doing *man things' for him.

"You need a little air. I'll fill it."

Keoni pulled the air hose out and began filling the tire. When he finished, Hatch nodded toward the yellow building across the street. "Is that Toto's Shave Ice any good?" he said.

Keoni stood up "We got two Toto's, ya know. Old one and new one.".

"Two? They must be doing good to have two."

"Nah. Totally different people own *em."

"But how can they have the same name?"

"Okay, so way back when, this girl Toto starts up a shave ice shop when she gets outta high school. She gets herself a special ice shaver that makes the ice real soft, almost like snow, eh? Everybody love it. They put her place in the tourist books and lots of people come here for the best shave ice on the whole island. Maybe the best anywhere."

Hatch nodded.

The guy pointed to our windshield. "You want I clean your window for you?"

"Nah, that's okay. It's a rental. We live on Maui. We just came over for a visit."

"You want I give you good price on a map?"

"Mahalo, but we don't need a map," said Hatch. "Kaua'i is pretty easy. Pretty much one big loop."

"True dat," said the guy. "So anyways, after a few years Toto decides she wants to go to college. You know, to get her education. So she sells the shave ice store and goes off to be a teacher. When she comes back she starts teaching at the high school. But things are tough over here, ya know? The kids can't get jobs or nothin' and they fall into bad ways. Like drugs and all that. So she figure if she starts up another shave ice it will give the high school kids someplace to work and make money. She calls the new place Toto's Anuenue Shave Ice." He grinned. "Get it?"

Hatch looked confused. "Not really."

"It's like a joke, man. Anuenue is the Hawaiian word for *rainbow' but it also sounds like *new-new" in English. So everybody call tell which Toto's is which. She one smart girl, that Auntie Toto."

"Which one do you recommend?" I chimed in.

"They both good, but I mostly go to Toto's Anuenue because she got the school kids working there and she got all the flavors I like. Lots of *em."

"Where's Toto's Anuenue?"

"Down there by the bank." He pointed to the stately columned building we'd driven past on our way into town. "It's right across. You can't miss it."

"Mahalo," I said.