Chapter 21 #2
When he spoke his voice was low and carried to every corner of the suddenly quiet room.
He chanted briefly, blessing the meal and the company, then switched to English and mentioned Keone, Lei, Malia and me by name as “helpers of the Valley” in a prayer of gratitude.
I had the sense the old man knew all about the archive—maybe Pali had called him.
“Awawakapu knows where its history sleeps. Restoration is on its way. That is enough,” he concluded. “Amen.”
After the pule, we formed a laughing, chatting line around the kitchen island, helping ourselves to copious amounts of food.
I took my loaded plate back into the living room—and was about to take the last spot on the crowded couch when Ilima gestured for Malia to join her there. “Sit, sit.” Ilima patted the couch. “Malia, get off that ankle. We heard you went down a hero for the Valley.”
Malia hobbled over. “I went down on a wet rock,” she said dryly, lowering herself with a wince. “Heroism had nothing to do with it—but maybe it did a little with the way Kat ran down our suspect. Chased her up a mountain and took her down like a cheetah leaping on a wildebeest.”
We all laughed; I ducked my head, which hurt my swollen face. “I don’t mind being called a ‘cheetah’ but it’s hardly accurate—and she got some licks in on me, too.”
“I have a feeling this is one of the stories that’s going to get more exciting with each retelling,” Keone said. Malia let him prop a cushion under her braced ankle, and then accepted a loaded plate from Aunt Fae.
Lei grabbed one of the folding chairs we’d borrowed from the community center, and I took the one beside her.
As we tucked into our dinner I gazed around at our community—the Red Hats, the Pahinuis, the mayor, the kahu, the rescued archaeologist, the postmaster and her pilot—and realized who I was missing.
“Anyone seen Elle? She was helping out with the organizing, wasn’t she, Aunt Fae?”
Aunt Fae smiled—a closed-mouth, secretive expression. “She got called away. Someone needed her attention.”
My spidey-sense intuition sent up an alert; I was almost sure she had gone to meet Pali—and when I glanced over at Keone, he gave me a nod and a thumbs-up, reading my mind.
Wherever Elle and Pali were right now was right where they were supposed to be.
Once we’d made some headway on the meal, Lei clapped her hands and called for attention. All the folks who’d been outside and elsewhere gathered around.
“Okay,” she said. “Since you’re all going to hear it on the coconut wireless by tonight anyway, you might as well get the facts.
Here’s where things stand with the case.
” She set her plate on her knees. “Update on the Valley first, because that’s the cornerstone of the case, and what matters most.” She gave a nod to Uncle Kalani when she said it.
“The petroglyphs and the cave site are going to be granted protected status under the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—NAGPRA for short, which covers Native Hawaiian cultural items and sacred sites. A preliminary federal determination came through; thanks to Edith for pulling together all the filings. As a result of her efforts, the Chang Development operation in the Valley has also been stopped by a judge’s order until status can be determined and established. ”
Edith doffed her witch-style red hat. “Hurrah! Worth all the bureaucratic baloney to get to this point. But I couldn’t have done it without Dr. Patel’s report—too bad she turned out to be a bad egg.”
“Yes,” Lei acknowledged. “That means the petroglyphs are legally recognized as belonging to the Valley and the lineal descendants and Native Hawaiian organizations connected to it—not to a museum, not to a developer, not to the state. The carvings will go home and be protected there, permanently, by federal law.”
The sound that went around the room was soft and deep, a murmur of relief that had been a hundred and fifty years in the making.
Uncle Kalani closed his eyes. Pearl pressed her folded crane to her chest. Ilima reached over and gripped Aunt Fae’s hand, two matriarchs from opposite ends of the earth bearing witness.
“Now—the criminal proceedings.” She glanced at Malia, who picked up the report, her voice flat and official.
“After discussion with our Attorney General, Victor Chang, Madison Chang, and David Santos are all being charged in connection with the desecration and theft of cultural antiquities from the Awawakapu site,” Malia said.
“Federal counts under the Archaeological Resources Protection Act and NAGPRA, plus state charges for the theft and the criminal property damage at the Heritage Garden. Victor and Madison are additionally charged with masterminding the kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, and attempted murder of Dr. Emerson.” Every head turned to Emerson, who froze like a toad in headlights with attention on him.
“Those are serious felony charges,” Malia went on.
“Kidnapping alone carries a long sentence. Santos is already facing his own charges from the other case.” She didn’t say Pearl’s name, but Pearl’s chin lifted.
“And will stack on top. The DA’s office told us this morning they intend to pursue all of it.
No quiet plea bargains. The case will go to trial. ”
“And Victor’s still in the hospital,” Ilima said. “Broken pelvis.”
“Broke it in three places when he fell into the pit,” Lei confirmed.
“He’s stable, he’ll recover, but it’ll be a long road—surgery, months of rehabilitation, and a lot of pain before he walks right again.
He’ll do that from a cell or a hospital bed unless he can make bail—which will likely be in the millions. ”
There was a beat of silence.
“Karma,” Opal pronounced, waving a half-eaten drumstick with serene finality.
“You reap what you sow,” Aunt Fae said from the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a dishtowel. I’d have paid money to see those two on a jury together.
“That valley took care of itself. You go up there to take what’s not yours, the ‘aina going remembah,” Uncle Kalani said.
Nobody argued with that. “I have been thinking on the stones,” he went on.
“About how they should come home. They were carried off in the dark, in a thief’s truck, with no respect.
That is not how they will return home.” His weathered hands moved through the air as he spoke.
“They are at a county facility in Kahului now, in boxes. I want to bring them home the right way, by water first. A canoe to carry them, paddled from Kahului around the coast to Ohia Bay, the way the ancestors traveled, with chanters at the bow.” A murmur moved through the room, warm and rising.
“Then we will take them up from the bay on a float, decorated properly with ti leaf and flowers. We will go slow, slow, through Ohia so everyone can come watch history pass. And we will take the carvings up to the Valley and move them through the caves hand-to-hand, carried by the people, into the place where they belong. With pule. With offerings and songs. And hula. With everyone who fought for them walking alongside.”
My heartbeat picked up; he’d painted such a vivid picture—and I would be a part of it!
For a moment nobody spoke. Then Pearl Yamamoto, who had survived poison and outlived nearly everyone, said in her small clear voice: “Yes. That is how it must be done.”
The room came apart in joyful discussion: Ilima already talking permits and a calendar date, Artie reaching for his ukulele, Edith flipping to a fresh page on her legal pad with the gleam in her eye of a woman who’d found a project, Josie declaring she would handle the canoe and float decorating organization and protocols with Uncle Kalani, Opal announcing there would absolutely be food and a great deal of it.
In the excitement I had to move. I got up with my empty paper plate and went to the kitchen to toss it; Keone’s arm came around me there and pulled me into his side. I leaned into the warmth of the feeling of really belonging, as our community planned a homecoming for the Valley’s stolen heart.
Some days you solved the case and drove home with a rock on your chest.
And some days the stone goes home where it came from, carried on the water, feted on a float, sung back into the dark by descendants of those who made it.
I was so glad for the small part my cat and I had played in bringing that about—and for the community that had told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was a part of it.