JoAnn Bassett - Islands of Aloha 07 - Moloka'i Lullaby Read online

  “You need to go to Honolulu,” I said.

  “We can’t,” she said in a whisper.

  “Yes, you can. You can, and you will. Because love is stronger than fear. I know it, and you know it. I’ve seen you toss fear aside like a rotten mango. You can do it again.”

  She turned her head away.

  The doctor came up and touched my elbow. “I’m sorry, but her BP’s climbing. I’m going to have to put an end to this.”

  Farrah turned toward me and said, “Okay. We’ll go. Take me where my babies will be safe.”

  The doctor signaled a nurse to adjust Farrah’s IV drip.

  I bent over and kissed her cheek. “You’re the bravest woman in the whole world,” I said.

  Farrah mumbled something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “The whole universe…” she said in a slurry voice. “I’m the bravest woman in the whole universe.”

  Then her head slumped and she was out cold.

  CHAPTER 15

  Ono asked Farrah’s doctor if he’d be going with her in the air ambulance to Honolulu. The doc lifted his shoulder in a shrug.

  “I’d be willing to go if the crew’s okay with it, but it’s a Honolulu-based helicopter so I wouldn’t have a way to get back.”

  “That’s no problem,” Ono said. “I’ll come over in my own chopper and bring you back. I can get you here before the end of your shift.”

  “My shift ended ten minutes ago,” said the doc. “But think about it: since you’re the patient’s husband, you’re cleared to go with her. If I go, I’ll be taking your seat.”

  “I know. And it’s a hard decision for me, but if she starts having our kids while she’s in the air...”

  “That won’t happen,” Hatch broke in. “No way.”

  I was waiting for Ono to turn on Hatch and demand how he could be so sure about that, but Ono stayed quiet. He probably hoped as much as I did that Hatch knew what he was talking about.

  Hatch turned to Ono. “Can Pali and I ride over with you?”

  “Of course, man. But we’ll need to leave right away.”

  As we jogged out to Hatch’s truck in the parking lot, Ono got on his phone. A minute later he said, “I got us a chopper, and they’re warming it up now.”

  “I thought you said the bird was yours,” said Hatch.

  “In a manner of speaking,” said Ono.

  I’d ridden with Ono in his friend’s helicopter once before, back when Ono and I were figuring out if we were destined to be friends or something more. It wasn’t something either of us had shared with our current partners.

  Although Hatch’s firefighter sticker gave him leeway, this time he really pushed the limits. I saw the speedometer hit eighty-five. After that, I stopped looking. We tore into the Kahului airport general aviation parking lot and Hatch brought the truck to a bouncy stop, brakes screeching and gravel flying.

  We made our way across a brightly-lit tarmac. As we approached the waiting helicopter, the rotors were already turning. I made a dash to the open cabin door and instinctively ducked my head.

  The take-off was flawless. Once again, I was thrilled by the seeming weightlessness of the aircraft as it lifted in a whoosh that left my stomach somewhere north of where it had been a few minutes earlier.

  “Wow,” said Hatch, gripping my hand. “This is great.”

  We’d opted for the seats behind Ono so he could stay fully focused on getting the helicopter safely to its destination. Honolulu airspace was crowded enough without a distraught father-to-be distracted by the people riding shotgun.

  The flight took us over the west side of Moloka’i. It was eerie, because unlike Maui, I couldn’t see a single light showing below. Maui had glowed, from Wailea to Ma’alaea Harbor, in a long swath of golden, shimmering light. But Moloka’i was as black as the ocean. Somewhere down there, Amanda was probably still pouting. But Richard was due to arrive at any time, so she’d have to put on her big-girl panties and get ready to spin tales about how she’d spent her day in Kalaupapa.

  I didn’t expect her to call me that night. In fact, I figured I’d never cross her mind again until I showed up with her wedding cake.

  Ah, the cake. In the uproar over Farrah, I’d completely forgotten to order Amanda and Richard’s wedding cake.

  ***

  Unlike Moloka’i, Honolulu was impossible to miss from the air. The lights of homes and hotels outlined the coastline, while streams of red taillights along the H-1 highway guided us straight to the heart of the city.

  Ono called for clearance from the Queen’s Hospital helipad, but he was denied.

  “We’ve got a flight on the ground and one incoming,” said the guy over the squawky mics on our headsets. “You got an emergency? ‘Cuz this is a private heliport.”

  “I’m ‘ohana of an incoming patient,” said Ono. “We’re with the high risk pregnancy sent over from Maui Memorial.”

  “Kingston? Is that you?” said the guy on the radio.

  “Schneider?” said Ono. “Yeah, it’s me. And my wife is on the Medevac you dispatched to Maui. ”

  “Hey dude, long time, no see.”

  “Does that guy know you?” Hatch said over the internal mic.

  “We were in the Army together,” said Ono. “Iraq, early on.”

  Schneider, the radio operator, came back on. “Kingston, if you’re the guy manning the cyclic, that makes it an emergency,” he said with a laugh. “Bring ‘er on in. I’ll deal with the higher-ups later.”

  “Roger that,” Ono said.

  The radio crackled and Schneider said in a more serious voice, “Bell Alpha Eight-Niner, you’re cleared to land at QMC helipad.” He gave Ono the flight coordinates and AGL, or altitude above ground level, for the helipad. Ono hunched over and adjusted some controls.

  “Hold on,” Ono said into our headsets. “We’re gonna whack-a-mole.”

  We descended quickly, almost like an elevator in freefall. I willed my stomach to stay put, and hoped Farrah had been totally out of it when she’d come in for the landing.

  Once on the ground, Ono flipped switches and adjusted controls until the sound of the rotors changed from a steady thrumming to more of a whomp, whomp, whomp as the blades slowed.

  He turned and told us we could get out, but to leave our headsets on the seats.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” said Hatch.

  “I gotta get the doc back to Maui,” said Ono.

  “I assume the babies didn’t make an appearance on the trip over?” I said.

  “I made the doc promise to get word to me if they did,” Ono said. “So far, so good.”

  “How will you get back here?” said Hatch.

  “I’m not thinking that far ahead,” said Ono. “But tell Farrah I will definitely be here for the birth.”

  “Will do,” said Hatch. “Take it easy, man. She’s in good hands.”

  Ono nodded and we climbed out of the helicopter. As we ran across the rooftop heliport, Farrah’s doctor passed us coming the other way. He gave a thumbs-up and I let go of the breath I felt like I’d been holding since we’d left Maui airspace.

  CHAPTER 16

  We weren’t allowed to see Farrah. She’d been taken somewhere in the bowels of the building and we couldn’t find anyone who knew much of anything about how things were going. At the information desk, the computer listed her as “in surgery.” Finally, after three hours of waiting, and more bad hospital coffee than any sane person should drink, we were visited by a doctor wearing pale green scrubs and a brightly-colored surgical cap printed with whimsical cartoon cats. There was a six-inch blood smear on the front of his smock.

  “Are you ‘ohana?” he said, his dark eyes flashing from Hatch to me.

  Hatch didn’t miss a beat. “This is Pali. She’s Farrah’s sister. And I’m her soon-to-be brother-in-law.” He must’ve been mentally practicing that for hours. It rattled me to hear what a good liar he was.

&
nbsp; “Okay,” said the doc. “Well, your sister’s pretty much out of the woods. The babies have some issues, but we’re working on that.”

  “What issues?” I said.

  “Expected complications for a multiple birth with early-term babies. Respiratory insufficiency, body heat regulation, that sort of thing.” He said it like the problems were no big deal. But even a non-medical person like me knew they were.

  “It’s okay to give me the bad news,” said Hatch. “I’m an EMT.”

  “Good for you,” said the doc. “But if I have anything to say about it, there won’t be any bad news.”

  We nodded, as if taking him at his word.

  “I’ll keep you apprised,” said the doc.

  “Can we see her?” I said.

  “Not yet,” the doc said. “Your sister’s in recovery. I’ll have a nurse come get you when she’s moved to a patient room.”

  Then he made an about-face and left, taking long strides as if to thwart any possible attempts to engage him further.

  “Well, he’s got a pretty un-aloha bedside manner,” I muttered.

  Hatch smiled. “Yeah, but ya know, I see a lot of docs in my job. And the surly ones are usually the best. I think it’s ‘cuz they’re competitive. They don’t like to lose.”

  ***

  Ono showed up at around five in the morning. He looked as rotten as I felt. He made his way to the corner where Hatch and I were splayed out in the barely-padded waiting room chairs, pretending to sleep. It dawned on me we’d failed to ask the doctor if the twins were boys or girls. But maybe it was for the best. We’d all find out together.

  “Hey,” Ono said.

  Hatch stood and the two of them did a complicated “man-shake,” with lots of fist-bumping, forearm-grabbing, Macarena-like moves that I was glad I wasn’t expected to take part in after a sleepless night.

  “Hey, yourself,” I said. “The doc came out last night and told us the babies were born at around three a.m.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I was there.”

  “Where?”

  “I was in the operating room,” he said. “It was amazing.”

  “How’d you make it back so fast?” said Hatch.

  “A buddy met me at Kahului and flew the chopper back over. We had to land at HNL and then I tipped a cabbie big time to run all the red lights. I promised Farrah I’d be here for the birth, so there was no way I was gonna let her down.”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d realized what a prince Ono was and how much he adored his wife. Did I have a twinge of envy? Maybe even regret? Sure. But Ono’s lifestyle was much too “make it up as we go along” for me. Hatch was much more solid, more predictable. Then I remembered he’d recently quit his job without telling me.

  “How’s Farrah doing?” I said, pushing that last thought out of my mind.

  “She’s great. But she’s still pretty out of it.”

  “So, man, what’ve you got?” said Hatch.

  Ono and I both looked at him, puzzled.

  “Boys or girls?” Hatch went on. “The doc didn’t say.”

  “One of each,” said Ono. “But the boy’s struggling.” He sounded as if he was struggling, as well.

  “They’ll both be fine,” said Hatch in his “firefighter-to-accident victim” voice. “They’ve got ikaika parents.” I was surprised to hear Hatch use the Hawaiian word for “strong.” I had no idea he even knew it. A prickly feeling shot down my arms. What else didn’t I know? First, he quits his job without even talking to me about it; then he lies to the doctor like a pro; and then he starts spouting kama‘aina words I’d never heard him use before. Who was this guy, anyway?

  “Can we see her?” I said. “The doctor said they’d tell us when she was moved to a room, but obviously they didn’t.”

  “I don’t think they want people in there until she’s had a chance to rest,” said Ono. “It was a pretty rushed Caesarean.”

  He looked at his fancy diver’s watch. “Oh, and it’s not nine o’clock yet. Visiting hours don’t start until nine.”

  I’d spent more than a week at Queen’s Medical Center when my half-brother had fallen into the Ala Wai Canal, and I still didn’t know as much as Ono apparently did about the rules. But then, it’d been a trying time. I guess, when you think about it, any time spent hanging around a hospital could be deemed, “a trying time.”

  We took the elevator downstairs to the cafeteria. I’d spent so much time in that very same cafeteria I could practically recite the menu by heart. I opted for my usual morning concoction of yogurt, vanilla-almond granola, and some previously-frozen strawberries. Farrah would’ve dubbed it “astronaut food” and she’d be right. It tasted like it’d been months since any of the ingredients had been in the ground, in a cow, or on a tree.

  “How did the babies look when you saw them?” I said to Ono.

  We found an open table and I mopped off the previous diner’s dribblings with a wad of paper napkins. You’d think in a hospital they’d be more concerned about hygiene, but most of the empty tables were piled high with dirty dishes, wadded-up napkins, and half-full coffee cups. They should consider buying a sign like the one Steve tacked to the kitchen wall soon after he’d moved in with me: The maid’s run off with the pool boy, so from now on clean up after yourself.

  “They’re really little. Their skin is kinda red, and they’ve got all kinds of tubes comin’ out of ‘em. To me, they looked sorta pissed off.”

  “You’d be pissed off too if you were yanked out of a nice warm place in the middle of the night and you ended up in a hospital,” said Hatch.

  “That kinda describes us all, don’t ya think?” said Ono.

  “Point taken.”

  The guys ate huge breakfasts of eggs, toast, rice and Portuguese sausage, while I stirred my yogurt and licked the spoon. I couldn’t imagine stuffing my face while my stomach was clenched in a Gordian knot of worry, but I guess everyone has different ways of dealing with stress.

  “You done with that?” said Hatch, pointing to my nearly full yogurt cup as he bussed his dishes onto a cafeteria tray.

  “Yeah, mahalo.”

  He added the yogurt cup to the tray and then he crossed the wide expanse of tables and chairs to a trash receptacle near the door.

  When he was out of earshot, Ono said, “What’s this I hear about Hatch quitting his job?”

  “Who told you?”

  “Farrah said he mentioned it a week ago, and then yesterday, he told me he’d done it.”

  “Yeah, well, I only found out yesterday,” I said. “After it was a done deal.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I know. We haven’t had time to talk about it. Did he give you a reason?”

  “A reason why he quit? Only that he needed to make more money,” said Ono.

  “Why is it that suddenly everything’s about money with him?” I said.

  “He’s getting married,” said Ono. “You know, a man’s gotta provide for the wife and kids, and all that.”

  “Seriously? If I’m not mistaken, this is the twenty-first century,” I said. “Between the two of us we make plenty of money.”

  “Maybe. But we men still feel the need to be the main providers.”

  Hatch returned to the table. “What’re you guys talking about?” he said. “Looks serious.”

  “It is serious,” I said. “I was just asking Ono if he knew why you’d decided to join the ranks of the unemployed.”

  Hatch’s brow wrinkled. “Seems like you’re talking to the wrong guy about that.”

  Ono got up from the table and made a big show of checking his watch. “Wow, it’s nearly eight-thirty,” he said. “I think I’ll go on up and see if I can work my charm on the maternity nurses to let me go in and see Farrah a little early.”

  I was pretty sure fathers didn’t have to stick with the normal visiting hours, but I kept quiet. Hatch and I needed time alone.

  Ono gave us a wave and left.

  “I’m sorry
I didn’t have a chance to talk with you about it sooner,” Hatch said. “But I wanted to wait until I was sure.”

  “Sure about what? Sure you were going to quit? Or sure about something else?”

  “Sure I was doing the right thing in handing in my notice. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Ah,” I said. I waited for him to fill in the many blanks in the conversation, but he just smiled.

  “Hatch, why are you being so secretive about this? Married people aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other.”

  “Because it’s kind of a surprise.”

  “You know how I feel about surprises,” I said. “Not a big fan.”

  “I know, but this is different.”

  Ono burst through the cafeteria door, face flushed, eyes wild. “Guys, I need you to come.”

  “What’s going on?” I said. Hatch and I both jumped up from the table. “Is it Farrah?”

  “No, it’s the kids. My boy stopped breathing. They’ve put him on life support.”

  And with that, all thoughts about jobs, secrets, and surprises vanished like a soap bubble popping in the breeze.

  CHAPTER 17

  We stared through the glass enclosure at Ono and Farrah’s tiny keiki. They looked like they’d been dragged behind a pickup down a rutted gravel road. Their skin was rough and red, and their arms and legs were so skinny they seemed barely big enough to have bones in them. They wore white knit caps, and both had a round white patches stuck to their chests. A small tube protruded from the little girl’s nose, but the baby boy’s face was nearly obscured by a bulky blue contraption with a grey flexible hose coming out of the middle. The kid looked like the little stuffed elephant Farrah had been given at her baby shower.

  “Oh, Ono,” I said, taking Ono’s hand. “I’m so sorry about your boy.”

  “But he’s a fighter,” he said. “I can tell.”

  Since it was impossible to see much of the little guy’s face, it was hard for me to agree.

  “No, really,” he went on. “Check it out. Look at those fists. And, he’s suckin’ air through that thing like there’s no tomorrow.”