Chapter 25 The Guest Book
The Guest Book
Ohana: family, relative, kin group
Nalu called an hour later asking what Minnow wanted to do since the weather was so crappy. She didn’t think it was crappy
at all. Actually she loved it, but most people wanted blue skies and sunshine. The weather fit her mood too. Surly and haunting.
Dark.
“Oh, and by the way, I found out something interesting yesterday at the harbor,” he said, a glimmer in his voice. “I tried
to call you, but there was no answer.”
She was only half listening. “What’d you hear?”
“There are these guys who raise seahorses over near the airport, and I talked to them when they were rinsing down their boat.
The captain said they go along the coast from time to time and let some out in the wild, trying to repopulate. So a few weeks
ago, on the way back from Kawaihae, they were farther out than usual and came upon what looked like a bunch of fishing floats,
but when they got closer, he said there was a metal framed cage hanging at the surface of the water. And get this—it was in
the same general area as the chum.”
Minnow’s mind whirled. “How big was the cage?”
“Eighteen to twenty feet. Not any kind of fish trap I can think of.”
There was only one thing it could be, really. But none of this mattered because she was leaving. A long moment passed before she could get the words out. “Tell Joe, because I’m going back to Santa Barbara this afternoon or tomorrow. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
The line went silent. She waited. He said nothing. “Nalu? Are you there?”
“Whoa. Dude. How can you just bail on us like that?”
Us?
“We did our best, but the hunt is on and I’m not staying for it. I can’t. And who is this us? It’s been just you and me all along here, fighting a losing battle,” she said.
“Me and the sharks.”
“Joe and the rest of the team should be able to take over. Aren’t they back from Australia today?”
“I think so. But I talked to Joe last night. He’s taking a leave of absence to take care of his wife and baby. I guess there’s
been more complications. Sounds like their daughter has a heart defect and is going to need open heart surgery.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Her chances are good, but he said he needs boots on the ground at home for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ll give him a call,” she said.
“Doc, you can’t go, not when we might finally have our answer. At least stay through the weekend,” he said.
Minnow could feel his desperation through the phone line, tense and wiry, and it caught her off guard. Had she been too self-absorbed
to notice how important this whole thing was to him? She wanted to say okay. Didn’t want to let him down, or let the ocean down. But she already had, hadn’t she?
“Why don’t you take the day off? Woody and Cliff are here, and I can get them to go out there with me. I’ll let you know what
we find out.”
“I want to go out there with you.”
“I don’t have time to wait if I want to catch a red-eye. I’ll call you at three p.m. Stand by,” she said, then quietly hung up the phone.
Nalu had been such a faithful companion, it felt cruel to shut him out like this. But maybe that was the point. It was easier
to push people away than let them in.
As soon as she hung up with Nalu, she called Hawaiian Airlines. Woody and Cliff were somewhere out back, rustling around in
the bushes across the pond, so she wouldn’t have to explain to them. Not now. There was a red-eye out of Honolulu at ten p.m.,
so she booked a connecting flight at seven thirty. Which meant she’d have to leave here at around five thirty, to be safe.
She could get a cab or shuttle from the Kiawe if it came down to that.
She put down the handset and eyed the photo album on the table, fighting the pull to open it again and spend a hundred years
staring at the pictures of her mother. There were only a few, but Minnow had thought she’d seen every picture of her mother
in existence. So each one was like a tiny window into the past. Next to the album, she noticed a book sitting open. It hadn’t
been there earlier. Its pages were lined in handwriting. Minnow took a closer look. A guest book.
September, 1967.
Her legs gave way and she found herself sitting in the chair, eyes searching for what she knew must be there. The first entry
was written by someone named Marilyn Carlsmith, who filled up almost a whole page about fish. A woman after her own heart.
Then Minnow’s eyes swung to the handwriting at the bottom of the opposite page and she knew right away whose it was.
This is a very short tale of a girl who was almost gone.
I came here not knowing how I could go on in this world, but being here in your shark house has been the greatest gift.
The hush of the night. Your sweet ukulele playing.
The magic food that Mrs. K cooked in her tiny kitchen full of love.
The shells. The fish. The whales! I truly believe they were wrapping me in their song and weaving some kind of spell.
The shark, well, that was another story.
Quite honestly, it was the biggest fright I’ve had in my life.
The main thing is, I came here with questions, and I’m leaving with answers and a renewed sense of hope. It’s my wish that
I can bring my daughter here one day. I have a feeling she will be a much braver soul than me. (Don’t ask me how, but I just
know I’m having a girl.)
Layla O’Donnell. September 7, 1967
When Minnow finished reading, she sat there in a stupor. Tears slid down her cheeks and one of them landed on the page, blurring
the word shark. She had just found the thread that had sewn together her distant past with her present, plus the revelation that her life
in the ocean started far earlier than she ever knew. She was born of whale song and tiger shark and undersea things. Of her
mother’s fear and love and hope. Of this very place.
The back door slammed and she jumped, placing a soothing hand over her heart. Woody came over and saw the guest book in front
of her, still open to her mother’s entry.
“Straight from the seahorse’s mouth,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “How you holding up, kid?”
“Hanging in there. This has all come out of left field, and it might take a while to sink in. How you explained it, it makes
sense, and then reading this helps. I just can’t believe no one told me. And why didn’t she bring me here?” She leaned back
in the chair and looked up at the cracks in the ceiling, fighting back more tears.
“Cliff can tell you some.”
His brother was just walking in the sliding screen door, holding a machete. There were twigs and leaves in his hair, and for the first time she realized just how handsome he was, in a very jungly, wild man kind of way.
“Tell her what?” he asked.
“Why Layla never came back with Minnow, and your theory on . . . everything.”
“Not sure if she wants my theory on everything. That might take a while. But like I said, your mother and I kept in touch.
She wrote me letters and I sent her postcards. I wanted it to be out in the open, not like we had some secret thing going
on. One day your dad found the postcards and went off the rails. So she asked me not to write anymore,” he said, shrugging
as if it was no big deal. But the hurt was still there. She could see it in the lines of his face and the way his body contracted
as that last sentence bled out.
He had loved her.
“And that was that?” Minnow asked.
He bit his lip and gave her a sad smile. “That was that. I never heard from her again, and I honored her wish.”
She felt a warmth for this man. Such a kind soul, it was hard to imagine him firing a gun at boats in the bay, or snapping,
like Woody said he could. He was like Minnow—he cared deeply. Maybe too deeply. It made her think of Luke for a few heartbeats,
but she recovered and stayed in this lane.
“Do you still have her letters?” She had to ask.
It took him a few moments to answer. “I think so, somewhere.”
Yes.
“Can I see them someday? If they aren’t too private?”
“I’ll see if I can dig them up.”
Minnow had a feeling he knew exactly where they were, but didn’t push. He had lost something too, long ago as it was. But
love and time were independent of each other. Anyone who had ever loved knew that.
When she told them about the chum, both were genuinely surprised. Woody agreed it was an area not often traveled. Far from any boat ramps, and most fishermen were either farther out or farther in. But they were eager to go have a look.
“We didn’t see any metal cage or buoys when we drove through, but we could have easily missed it,” she said.
“What if they take the cage in?” Woody asked.
“Where would they take it?”
Neither of them had an answer for that.
They loaded up the boat with boiled peanuts, poke, a peanut butter and honey sandwich for Minnow, and enough Coca-Cola to
last a week. But when Woody went to start the motor, it sputtered and she smelled gas. He lifted the can to make sure it was
full, then said, “Whoa, what happened here?”
Minnow and Cliff both came over. Woody was holding the fuel line, which had been severed.
“We had no trouble with it yesterday. Though Nalu was driving so I didn’t actually pay much attention.”
The edges were neatly cut through. Was it possible something on the boat had sliced it? She glanced around, but there was
nothing sharp in sight. They all stared at the line for a moment.
“Sabotage. Guaranteed,” Cliff said.
“Gotta be. Unless you or Nalu accidentally cut it?”
She thought back. Neither of them had used their dive knives while last in the boat. Had they?
“Something could have been resting against it and we didn’t notice,” she said, not sounding very convincing.
“Possible,” Woody said.
Cliff frowned. “My ass. Someone doesn’t want you, us, poking around.”
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“Keep our eyes wide open.”