From the Relief Society Magazine, 1963-64 –

Kiss of the Wind

By Rosa Lee Loyd

Chapter 1

Luana was fully awake before the alarm clock broke the lullaby quiet of the early dawn.

She did not turn off the alarm. Everyone had better hear it and awaken, she thought, because today was not only Lei Day, a red-letter day in the Hawaiian Islands, but it was a special day for the Harrington family.

Emma Lu, their twenty-one-year-old daughter, was coming home from San Francisco, where she had been graduated as a nurse. They were all going to Honolulu to meet her. Lei Day would make everything even more enchanting, Luana thought, as she swung her feet to the floor and ran to the window.

Luana did not look forty-three years old; she was slender, strong, and vital as though charged with the liquid sunshine of the Isle of Maui which had been her home for the last twenty-two years. She loved this pineapple plantation where she lived with her husband, Ben Harrington, their five children, and Ben’s elderly mother whom they lovingly called Tutuwahine-Tutu (grandmother).

Now, as she stood at her bedroom window, her eyes caressed the shimmering blue-green water of the lagoon that swished the shore below their large white frame house. This was her very own glimpse of paradise. She had painted many pictures of this lagoon, but not until this spring had she finished one that she considered good enough to send to the Andrus McDougal Contest for Hawaiian Art. Now it was stored in Tutu’s closet, ready for mailing as soon as the contest opened next week. But this was her secret. No one else knew of it except Tutu, who kept her secret as if it were her own.

Luana was not a pretty woman, her nose was prominent, her cheekbones too high, her mouth too wide, and her dark eyes fiercely determined. But her skin was velvet smooth, even though bronzed by Hawaiian sun.

No woman on the island did more for the sick, the tired, and the heartbroken than Luana Harrington. She was a member of the branch choir, a visiting teacher in her own neighborhood, and she taught a class to junior art students in the Civic Center. Luana’s life was a symbol of completeness: husband, children, love, home, Church, and civic activities. What more could any woman in her whole lifetime ask for?

Yet dreams and yearning were in her eyes if you looked deeply. But she was practical as well as artistic, and dreams to her were a springboard to action. She had worked unceasingly to make her dream come true. Now it was ready for the contest when the time came.

Quickly she turned from the window and reached in the closet for a muu-muu.

“Hi, sleepyhead!” she called to her husband, who had not heard the alarm clock. Ben could sleep through the loudest clatter. He had learned to do that in the war, he told her.

Luana sat on the side of the bed and ruffled her fingers through his dark hair, still thick at the sides, but thinning on top. He was big and homely and terribly exacting at times, but she loved him devotedly. He was worthy of her love and trust.

Ben, whose parents had come to Hawaii from the Mainland, had been born in this house on the Island of Maui. Luana had met him in San Francisco at a pineapple company convention in 1940. Love had come quickly to them, and love was still with them, deep and warm, after twenty-two years of married life. She loved every moment of their tender companionship, their joy in their children, their years of hard work together. Rearing five children on a pineapple plantation, with all the financial hazards that were involved, had not been easy. Ben had enlisted with the Marines after the Pearl Harbor attack, but with Tutu’s wisdom and experience and Luana’s brave young strength, they had been able to continue to work the plantation.

Emma Lu had been born while Ben was on Guadalcanal. He had not seen her until she was two years old. Now there were five children, Luana thought proudly: Emma Lu, then Philip, eighteen, and ready for college; chubby, good-natured sixteen-year-old Pixie; and their rollicking, red-headed twin boys, Benjy and Bowman, nicknamed Bo. They would be thirteen next Monday.

Emma Lu was first to establish her career as a nurse. They wanted Philip to be a doctor after he fulfilled a mission. They planned that all their sons would go on missions. They had a family bank for this purpose. They called it their “love bank,” because it was love for their Church, love for each other, and love for everyone in the world that prompted them to contribute to it.

Luana and her family knew the meaning of hard work. From dawn until twilight, and even beyond into the dark, torch-lit night during the harvest time, they labored on the plantation.

The time Luana had given to painting had been moments when others were asleep. She went down to the lagoon alone in the moon-drenched night, or in the pink-blue dawn, when the world around her was so enchantingly beautiful that her heart swelled and sang with joy.

Rembrandt, Tutu had often told her, must have dreamed of Hawaiian blue, or he could not have painted such glorious color. Nothing in all the art work she had ever seen could compare with the natural blue of Hawaiian skies and water. Luana felt that she must paint it — she must give it to the world, to all those who were not fortunate enough to visit Hawaii.

“Ben — it’s time to get up,” she said. “This is a big day for us, remember?”

He turned over sleepily, stretching his long arms. “A big day,” he repeated, a smile parting his lips. “Every day is a big day for us, sweetheart. I wouldn’t miss one of them for a million dollars, spot cash.”

“Speaking of spot cash,” Luana said, “we must stop at the bank. The payroll is due next week.”

Ben sighed. “I know. There is always the payroll whether the crop is good or not.”

“But it looks so good this season, darling. I was noticing yesterday how well the cuttings have grown. It must be the extra care Mike Togo has given them.”

“You mean the extra love,” Ben said. “Fve never seen a young fellow who loves growing things like Mike Togo. I wish our Philip loved the plantation that way. But his heart is flying up there in the sky with airplanes and Larry Brown.”

Luana nodded. “I know, dear. But he’s still a boy. He’s entitled to daydream,” she defended.

“He’s eighteen,” Ben said, “ready for college in the fall. I would like him to be a doctor. We need more doctors on the islands, Lu. But he won’t make up his mind.”

Luana drew a deep breath. “Maybe he has made up his mind,” she said. “He wants to be a pilot. I think he’s afraid to tell you.”

Ben sat upright. His eyes were hurt.

“Afraid to tell me!” he repeated. “What have I ever done to make him afraid to tell me?”

Luana touched his cheek. “Darling,” she said, gently, “I know how kind you are, how tender and considerate. And the children do, too, really. But sometimes — well — you still act like a Marine sergeant.”

Ben shook his head. “I want the best for them,” he said. “Maybe I am demanding, but it’s because I love them and want them to get some place in life. You have to plan and then work to make your plan come true. I won’t let my family waste time. I want them to have a goal.”

Luana laughed as she put her arms around him, pressing her velvet cheek to his.

“Look, Sergeant,” she coaxed. She always called him sergeant when she wanted him to be more lenient. “Let them be children for today. We only go to Honolulu once a year.”

She arose from the bed and hurried to the kitchen, a long sunny room with wide windows opening into the lanai. Tutu was seated at a little rock work table heaped with pinkish red Roselani flowers. She was busy with a long needle and heavy thread making an especially elaborate lei.

“This must be ready to greet my Emma Lu,” she said, smiling at Luana who bent to kiss her faded cheek. Tutu was frail and old in the morning light, but her eyes were glowing. She had been an English teacher out from the States in a Maui high school, before she married Ben’s father. She always spoke slowly and precisely. Her voice had a lullaby softness that everyone loved.

“Soon these Roselani flowers, the flower of our island, will be destroyed if we do not get rid of the hostile beetles. Look at the petals I have thrown away, Luana. They were ruined by beetles!”

“Bless you, Tutu,” Luana said tenderly as she hurriedly set the table. “You always remember what each child loves best. The Roselani is Emma Lu’s favorite lei. But there will be hundreds of leis of every kind on the streets today. Flowers of every island will be shown and worn. The Lehua from the big island of Hawaii, the Llima from Oahu, and the purple berry called Mokihana from Kauai, and Maui’s own flower, the Roselani.”

Tutu’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked at Luana. “Don’t forget the most common of all, the ginger flower lei. I have made thousands of them. None has a sweeter fragrance. But their color is not as exciting as the red and pink Roselani.”

“The ginger is generally white, isn’t it?” Luana questioned.

“I like to call it Sweet Snow,” Tutu answered. “That describes it, although some call it Hedychiums. Today, in Honolulu, we will see orchid leis and carnations and the yellow and white Plumeria. Umm! I can almost smell them now. I am so happy to be able to go with you today. The Lord is good to me.

She reached for Luana’s hand and pulled her gently to her side. “Today, I must tell you how grateful I am for you. You have been a perfect daughter to me and a perfect wife for my son. I am nearing my sunset time, Luana …”

“Nonsense!” Luana tried to smile as she always did when Tutu spoke of her sunset time. She could not bear to part with her, even though Dr. Hartford had warned them that her heart was very old and very, very tired. “I am no angel, Tutu,” she went on gaily. *’I have been impatient at times. Stubborn, too. And my temper!”

Tutu shook her head, smiling her wise little smile.

Then loomed in the doorway, his new aloha shirt open at the throat. Luana looked at him with pride. Ben was one of the tallest men on the island, and even though he seemed stern with the children at times, he was, at heart, the kindest man she had ever known. He was even helpful to stranded visitors. She always smiled when she used the word visitors, instead of tourists, but that was customary in Hawaii. Folks thought it sounded more friendly.

Soon the kitchen was a beehive of activity. Each child had his appointed chore to do.

After the blessing, Ben helped Luana serve breakfast: guava nectar, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, milk, and bananas. Only Bo, contrary as usual, coaxed for papaya instead of guava nectar.

“Why don’t you like lilikoi juice, Bo?” Luana demanded. “It is the choicest juice of the island. That’s why we call it nectar.”

“Not for me. Mama. I like papaya better,” he said decidedly.

Luana shook her head. Bo was like that in every way. He had a mind of his own. Benjy had always had to give in to him, she thought, looking fondly at her red-haired twin boys. Her babies were growing up. She and Ben had such great plans for them all. It would take extra money to do all they planned. That was one reason she was so eager about the art contest. The prize was ten thousand dollars.

“Look, Mama,” Bo was saying over a mouthful of toast, “Benjy wants us to show you our surprise for Emma Lu.”

Surprises were a tradition in the Harrington family. Any event was an excuse for a surprise. But Luana wasn’t prepared for Benjy’s and Bo’s surprise.

“Oh, no!” she gasped, staring at the monkey in Benjy’s arms. “Where did you get that?”

“From Hiro Kurata. You remember Hiro, Mama. He’s our Japanese friend who lives over near the sugar mill. You let Bo and me go there for sukiyaki dinner.”

Luana nodded. “Yes, I do remember. I like Hiro. We must invite him over when we have our Utah pork chops and milk gravy dinner. Or maybe he’d like our Alabama hot cakes, with real maple syrup from New England.”

“Let’s settle for San Francisco chop suey,” Phil laughed. “You make that real swell. Mom, even though the Chinese never heard of the way they make it on the Mainland.”

“Well now,” Luana laughed. “We’ll think of one of our Mainland dinners and give him a treat. Do his parents know he gave the monkey to you for Emma Lu?

“Oh, yes!” Benjy said. “Their uncle sent it from Tahiti. They said we were welcome.”

“I’ll bet they did!” Phil said, grimly.

“Emma Lu will love to own a monkey!” Ben said, his mouth quirking.

“Just what she’s always wanted,” Pixie murmured, sipping her juice.

Luana noticed that Pixie was trying hard not to eat fattening foods, but it was a constant battle with a healthy appetite. She had courage and determination and weighed herself every day. She’s really cute anyway, Luana thought tenderly, even if she is chubby. Her little upsy nose makes her look like a pixie. It was a blessing that she didn’t seem to mind that she was not as pretty as the other girls at school.

Phil took an extra banana and ate it hurriedly.

“Let’s get going,” he said. “We want to get there to watch the ship pass Diamond Head. Boy, do I have a surprise for my big sister!”

“Tell us!” Bo demanded. “We told you.”

Phil put his hand up. “Don’t ask me,” he said. “This is personal.”

“She’ll have a surprise for us, I’ll bet,” Benjy said in his honest way. “I wonder what she’ll have for us?”

Luana shook her head, reproving. “Benjy, you should think how you can please her, not about what she will bring for you.”

Benjy’s wistful face was puzzled. “I know I should. Mama. I try to think of doing things for other people all the time, but sometimes — I just think of me!”

Bo’s lips turned down, scornfully.

“What a dope!” he said. “Always has to tell on himself. Never can just think anything. Always says it right out loud. Like in school yesterday when the teacher asked who drew that crazy mean picture of Drucie Hayward on the blackboard, Benjy has to say he didn’t draw it, but it did look like Drucie’s goon face.”

“For goodness sake!” Luana said. “That was thoughtless of you, Benjy. Try to be more careful next time.”

She looked sharply at Bo. “Who did draw that picture?” she questioned, remembering that Bo had quite a talent for drawing pictures that resembled people he knew.

Bo’s face pinked up over his freckles. He stuffed a banana in his mouth. Everyone was looking at him. Ben leaned back, folding his arms across his chest which meant he would take over the situation.

“Bowman,” he said, in a deadly calm voice, “answer your mother. She asked if you knew who drew the mean picture of Drucie Hayward?”

Bo swallowed hard. His eyes were fiercely stubborn.

“Why do I have to tell?” he demanded. “Just because Benjy tells everything, do I have to tell all my business? Miss Carson doesn’t know who drew it — she couldn’t find out. I wouldn’t answer when she kept asking. I let her stand there and wonder if it was Charlie Lyman because he can draw so well. I don’t like Charlie!”

There was a breathless silence.

Luana bit her lip. This was not merely a childish prank. This was a question of honor. How could her son let another boy take the blame for what he had done! And he acted as though he had been very clever. This must be corrected at once. But why did it have to happen today? she asked herself brokenly. She looked at Ben as he stood up. His jaw was a firm hard line.

“Let’s go to your room, Bowman!” he said. “We must talk this over.”

“We will wait for you,” Luana said as they left the room. She was grateful that Ben thought each child should be allowed to keep his dignity by being scolded alone. He did not belittle any of the children before the others. She had never interfered with his discipline because he was always fair and reasonable, but unyielding in his decision.

“Mama …” Benjy called to her. “Oh, Mama “

His wide blue eyes were full of tears.

“Finish your breakfast!” she said, softly, her throat pinching in. She knew that each of them was sick with dread that Bo would be left behind on this day of days.

(To be continued)