The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

‘A‘ole

‘Iwa

‘Iwa stood in the pasture in Kula looking out across the flat expanse between the West Maui Mountains and Haleakalā, a view of rolling green hills, white-capped ocean, Kīhei condos and small puffy clouds. The weather had cooperated, blessing them with light trade winds and a generous sky. The whole conservation crew as well as volunteers from around the island had been sweating all day preparing for the fundraiser, and she needed a moment to herself.

This entire week had been a study in second-guessing how she had handled the Dane dilemma. Either way, she was on Maui and Dane was in Portugal paddling out into some of the biggest waves on the planet. His text this morning—nighttime for him—should have reassured her, but it left her with a heaviness deep inside. Good luck over there, I’m rooting for you. Going to dawn patrol. Swell hasn’t hit yet but will send pics. Call you tomorrow, after we surf. Miss you, my beautiful mo’o.

While she was sleeping, he’d be facing off with the North Atlantic.

The floor of the giant barn and riding arena had been covered in hay, and glass jar lanterns hung from the chunky trusses. Big round tables were set up on one side and smaller standing tables dotted the other. People had paid a premium for those in front of the stage. Along the back wall, silent auction items begged to be purchased. Local art and books and jewelry, a trip for two to Tavarua Resort, handcrafted birdhouses, a three-night stay at the Hāna Hotel, a boat trip to Lānai. But, the most exciting thing up for grabs was the brand-new mint green surfboard that had shown up on her doorstep two days ago. Opening bid, $1500. Not that it replaced Dane, but it helped.

It warmed her heart to see how many people had jumped in without expecting a dime in return. Not only that, but tickets had sold out within a week of going on sale. None of this meant a thing, though, unless they could find a legal reason to stop the eco resort, which now had a name. Zen Mountain Retreat.

“Really, that’s the best they could come up with?” Dane had said when she’d told him.

“I know, right?”

“What about a Hawaiian name, or something related to the place? Did they ever think of that?”

“Who knows what these people think.”

At five o’clock, ‘Iwa and Winston took to the stage, and people who had been standing out on the grassy lawn began to trickle into the barn. Winston had come early to set up, and she was grateful for his calming presence. They started off with slack key, no singing, just background music, and ‘Iwa tried not to think about her little speech coming up. Singing was one thing, but public speaking gave her sweaty palms and a dry mouth. Then, just before dinner, the time came to address the crowd. She had been rehearsing for days, but her mind was still blanking out on whole sections.

Winston gave her a subtle thumbs-up and she pulled the mic close with sweaty palms. “A big, warm aloha to you all, thank you for being here. When we pulled this event together, I had no idea what to expect, but I was blown away by your generosity and support. We are about as grassroots as they come, and our organization is tiny, so having the backing of the Maui community—actually, the whole Hawai’i community, means everything. On this island alone, we already have over seven thousand hotel rooms, over two hundred condo complexes, and close to nine thousand vacation rentals—most illegal.

“We reached max capacity a long time ago. So, raise your hand if you think it’s a good idea to build another resort in the middle of some of our most pristine rainforest with plants and birds found nowhere else on earth.”

A hush fell. No hands. Someone in the back started clapping. Then another person. Someone else whistled. A woman in the back caught ‘Iwa’s eye, a redhead. For a split second, she thought it was her mother, but of course it couldn’t be.

When the crowd quieted, she went on. “‘Any fool can destroy trees. Trees cannot defend themselves or run away.’ John Muir said that in 1920, and the same could be said for our lands and waterfalls and creatures today. Any fool can destroy these things that cannot save themselves. Saving them is up to us.” A fire started up in her heart, and her voice grew louder. “ Auwe. Enough is enough. And while Murphy Jones wants us to believe he has our best interests at heart, I assure you, he does not.”

“Beat it, Jones!” someone yelled.

“ Zen Mountain Retreat.”

. No. A Hawaiian word she had been hearing more and more frequently. More people were questioning, fighting, sick to death of being lied to and walked on.

And then she spotted another face in the crowd that shouldn’t be there. She blinked, looked again. The man stood staring at her with a flat smile. He wore a cowboy hat and boots, and an orange and brown aloha shirt, blending right in. A shark swimming through a bait ball.

Murphy Jones.

Her heart started thundering. Why was he here? To see what he was up against? To rattle his opposers? But aside from a few people, no one would even recognize him. ‘Iwa debated saying something, but did not want to let him see her sweat. Calling attention to him would ruin the night.

Instead, she smiled right back at him and said, “Now, please enjoy the food, make sure you bid in the silent auction and dance your hearts away. This one is for Waikula. And if you recognize the tune, it’s a nod to Joni Mitchell, and my mom.”

Amid the applause, she glanced over at Winston, whose beaming face said it all. They had spent the last month writing the lyrics and rehearsing the song they were about to sing. She hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Dane.

There’s a girl who’s been out searching

In a decade full of green

And she takes it to the mountain

And she speaks it from the stream

Bearing truths from her mother

With golden eyes so clear

In the draining and the drying

Of the watersheds

There’s a time we all remember

Before the birds have flown

Before the forest is gone

We can taste what we will lose

Waikula, lifeblood

yellow feathers, sunshine

There’s a land who’s sent a message

And she’s waiting for a reply

She has asked for a reprieve

Between the ocean and the sky

She sings in broken branches

And soil and things alive

You will find it hard to shake her

From your memory...

When they finished, a man at the front table stood and clapped, and little by little, people popped up until the whole place was standing and cheering. Above, the skies opened up, raining down hard as river rocks on the metal roof. Goose bumps formed along ‘Iwa’s arms, and tears welled in her eyes. If only Lily could be here now. And Dane. But those thoughts passed quickly, as she soaked in the love filling up the barn. Winston reached over and grabbed her hand and lifted it up. She held on tight.

They continued on with a mix of Hawaiian songs, Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall,” Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi,” Cat Stevens’s “Where Do the Children Play,” and finished up with John Denver’s “Sunshine on My Shoulders”—something hopeful. She and Winston had picked the songs carefully.

When they finally left the stage, ‘Iwa beelined to a cocktail table in the back where she’d spotted Keala and Parker—other members of their team. Winston was at her heels.

“That was perfect,” Keala told them.

Still shaken up and breathless, ‘Iwa asked, “Did you see Jones?”

“What do you mean? Where?”

“Jones was here. I saw him in the crowd, he made sure of it.”

Parker frowned. “That man, no class. I see him, I’ll show him to the pasture out back with my boot.”

“We must have really rattled him, or else he wouldn’t bother. But still, it freaked me out,” ‘Iwa said.

Straight-faced, Winston pushed an envelope toward her on the table. “This might make you feel better.”

‘Iwa opened the envelope and pulled out a white piece of paper that said “A little something for a big cause.” There was no signature. Then she slipped out a cashier’s check made out to Maui Forest Recovery Project that she had to read twice, all thoughts of Jones temporarily forgotten.

“Fifty thousand dollars! Who is this from?”

Winston shrugged. “I don’t know. Some guy handed it to me before we went onstage, then disappeared.”

“Weird.”

It could have been any number of wealthy people on Maui, but she sure wished she could know. Fifty thousand dollars would go a long way.

“It feels clandestine, doesn’t it?” Maya said.

“No matter, our legal fees are beginning to stack up, but this will more than cover Kawika’s retainer,” Winston said.

Kawika Wong was the new attorney from Honolulu who had an impressive list of wins. At long last, things were starting to swing their way. But time was running out, because ‘Iwa knew that guys like Jones did not wait for permits. He was bound to be clearing forest already.

In the morning, ‘Iwa woke to a shattered windshield, and a message from Kama that drained her body of all oxygen. The call had come from Dane’s phone. “‘Iwa, this is Kama. Call me back as soon as you can.”