The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

A Male & A Female

‘Iwa

On Maui, ‘Iwa returned to find that Jones had threatened Maui Forest Recovery Project with a lawsuit of his own if they kept trying to block the eco resort. He was claiming all kinds of injustices, and still maintained that because he owned the property, he could do what he wanted. The way he saw it, they were spreading false information and dragging his name through the mud. Everything fell into approved uses for the zoning. At least in his mind, where you could bend words, fudge plans and break car windows in the middle of the night to make sure everyone saw things your way.

Not that ‘Iwa had ever been able to prove anything, but she knew. Her father had insisted she report it to the police, which she did, but they told her the broken windshield could have just as easily been caused by a falling mango, or kids playing ball. She didn’t even bother telling them it wasn’t mango season. Waste of time.

“What about ‘No one on the island wants you here, dickhead’? Isn’t that enough of a reason to admit defeat and hit the road?” Winston said, as they sat on the back lānai of Uncle’s sipping post-jam-session beers.

‘Iwa clinked his bottle with hers. “Right? If a whole island was against me, I’d leave with my tail between my legs and never look back.”

“It’s all just dollar signs,” Win said.

It felt nice to be home. Nice to be around Winston and her dad and Koa, who’d slobbered her half to death when she arrived. Still, she thought about Dane every other minute, and continued to have flashbacks of that horrible night at Yeti’s. His betrayal had flayed her and she worried she might never recover.

That, and it dredged up the trauma of reaching her hand into Zach’s pocket those years ago and finding a napkin with the name Petra, a phone number, a heart and the word tomorrow written on it. Since it already was tomorrow, she’d called him at work. He wasn’t there. A hot and sticky feeling had come over her, just as it had with Dane and Sunny. Like she needed to somehow get out of her own skin, but was trapped. A sickening revelation that the man you loved was not who you thought he was.

Maybe hurts accumulated, stacking up on each other like big waves on a high tide. And the key to surviving them was to avoid them in the first place.

“Good luck,” her mother would have said.

On this particular evening, ‘Iwa had played on autopilot until the final song—“Waikula”—which stirred up her insides every time she sang it.

“The whole island is talking about your song. But it’s not the same when I sing it. They love you,” he said.

“They love Maui, and the song resonates.”

“No,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “They love you.”

‘Iwa looked into her bottle, at the floorboard, then back up at him. She had such a fondness for him, and for a split second, she let her mind wander. Her friend Kirsten swore by the “friends to lovers” thing. Trust me, friendship to love makes for the best relationships because you already know what you’re getting. And that first time you have sex, it blows doors. On paper, Winston was a perfect match. Handsome, so much in common, long-time friend, born and raised on Maui, dependable. No massive ego to burn the whole thing to the ground once you were hooked.

‘Iwa arrived at the trailhead at dawn, threw a little extra love into her oli and entered the forest. It had rained in the night and now the trees made their own rain whenever a gust of wind shook their branches. Fifteen minutes in, she was already drenched and her pack felt like a bag of rocks after not carrying it for a month. Her legs burned and her heart was heavy, but the mud on her boots made it all worth it. Today, she was here for no one but herself. A night in solitude with the mountain.

She took her time getting to Waikula, stopping to photograph a new bloom of orange lehua blossoms, sitting cross-legged in a koa copse, honeycreeper-watching and absorbing all the healing properties of the forest. She moved slowly along, wary of coming across Jones or his thugs again, and scared of what she might find at the waterfall—aside from those remarkably vivid memories of Dane kissing all parts of her body.

No one was at the waterfall, at least there was that. ‘Iwa stripped down to her bikini and warmed up on a smooth boulder. Not thinking about Dane and Sunny was a constant struggle. Her mind would simply not cooperate. Instead, she sat up tall and sang her waterfall song. Quietly at first, and then loud enough for all the mo’o on the mountain to hear. Loud enough for Jones, in case he was in the area. Loud enough for her mother up in heaven. When she jumped in and swam to the falls, the ice water burned across her skin. She gave the rock where Dane had fed her berries a wide berth.

Had she followed her own rules, she wouldn’t be in this mess. No surfers, no mainland guys, no assholes. This time, she made a pact with herself, with Waikula as witness, that she would not make the same mistake twice. No second chances.

Upstream a ways, above the falls, ‘Iwa went in search of a place to hang her hammock and rest. The only flat spot was on the far side of the stream, on Jones’s property. There was no trail, and she had to bushwhack through ferns and undergrowth to get there, so only the mountain would know. Drained, she tied her hammock up between two trees and dozed off to the rush of running water on rocks, and the fluttering of ‘ōlapa leaves in the afternoon breeze.

Sometime later, in the midst of a black and dreamless sleep, something startled her awake. It took a moment to recall where she was, and she listened for any sign of what had woken her. There were no manmade sounds, no pig sounds, nothing but stream and bird chirps. Then she heard the whir of tiny wings. Her favorite sound. A greenish yellow bird with a distinctive stripe over its eye landed on a branch overhead. ‘Iwa dared not breathe.

Chew-eee. Chew-eee. Chew-eee.

A kiwikiu. Trying to hold herself together, she slid her hand into her pocket, feeling for her phone. She had to capture this on film, but her Canon was on the ground. The first bird began hopping from branch to branch, poking at the mossy bark with his curved parrot-like bill. The second one, a female—she could tell by her smaller bill and muted colors—did the same in the next tree over. They were small and busy and oh so beautiful.

In her green camouflage hammock, ‘Iwa blended right in, and slow as growing grass, pulled her phone up, turned off the sound and started shooting. She was able to zoom in on the female, who then took a break from foraging and began singing. A high-pitched, complex string of notes floating light through the forest. Birdsong usually had two main purposes, to defend territory or to attract a mate. The same could be said for most things in life.

The birds stayed for a while, searching for insects and larvae, oblivious to the human in their midst. If there were two breeding kiwikiu, there must be a nest in the area, and there would likely be more birds not too far away. It was too late to hike down now, but first thing in the morning she would race back to Pā‘ia and tell Winston. A breeding pair of kiwikiu on Jones’s property! Winston would flip.

When the birds disappeared, she replayed the video again and again. The sound was good, the picture clear. The little female’s throat warbled as she sang, making her feathers look alive. ‘Iwa felt a strong kinship with this tiny bird. Eventually, she set her phone down, jumped up and swung around with her arms wide open, hugging the closest tree. This was just what they needed.

The sun had gone down behind Haleakalā, but there was at least another hour of light. Enough time to go in search of more birds. She grabbed her Canon and was about to head out, when she heard a twig snap behind her. She spun around to see a man ducking under a low-hanging branch.

Same guy from last time. The taller one with the giant arms. Thug number one. “Trespassing is against the law here in Hawai’i, ma’am,” he said.

Here in Hawai’i.

‘Iwa turned to grab her pack. “Oh, I’m sorry, is this private land? I didn’t realize,” she said, hoping to make a clean getaway before he recognized her.

“It is.”

“I’ll be on my way then.”

He came close enough that she could smell his citrus aftershave and feel his eyes boring a hole in her back. “Once I can overlook, twice I’m going to have to escort you out.”

She swung her pack over her back and turned to face him.

“I’m out here doing a bird count and I did not realize your land went above the falls. My mistake. I’ll just cross over to the other side and head to the next valley.”

His eyes fell down over her body and he made no move to hide it. “Not today, Miss Young. You’ll follow me.”

His use of her last name caused a new level of wariness. “This was an honest mistake, sir, and I don’t believe you have the authority to force me to do anything.”

‘Iwa cinched her hip strap, then noticed her phone on the ground, a few feet from where the man was standing. Instinct told her to not draw attention to it, to leave it where it lay.

“Negative. Let’s go,” he said.

For a beat, she wondered if she could outrun this guy. Maybe on a good day, without a pack. But even with his oversized muscles, he was lean and had at least a foot on her.

Talking fast, she said, “I’m a scientist. I have every right to be up here on this mountain.”

“Save it for Jones.”

The man took her to a massive warehouse on a clearing that spread out for several acres. There were excavators and bulldozers and backhoes all lined up for battle with the trees, and the thought of all this native forest being mowed down caused a physical ache in her body. Thug number one had radioed in that he was coming back with a trespasser, and he took ‘Iwa to a room inside the warehouse and opened the door.

“Leave your pack out here,” he said.

“I’d rather keep it with me.”

Jones came out, dressed in jeans and a khaki T-shirt and looking two shades too tan. “Miss Young, this is my land, so I’m not asking. Leave the pack and empty your pockets.”

“It’s just camping gear and food.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

‘Iwa felt her face heating up. She wanted to object, but there was an edge to Jones and these men that felt dangerous. Like it would be easy for her to conveniently fall off a cliff and break her neck, or wash out to sea with the stream waters. But her car was at the trailhead. They would never be so stupid, would they? ‘Iwa dropped the heavy pack and followed him into the office. One whole wall was security camera screens. All blank at the moment.

He caught her looking. “We aren’t online yet, but we will be soon.”

“How did you know I was up there?” she asked.

“Clancy heard you singing at the waterfall. Sound travels up here.”

Her anger had made her reckless, and now she was paying the price. “Yeah, I know.”

Clancy closed the door and left the two of them alone. “So, you come all the way up here just to sing, or were you looking for trouble?” he said, motioning for her to sit.

She remained standing. “Mr. Jones, I have been coming up here since long before you bought this property. I came to Waikula as a girl with my mother, and now my work brings me up here. Being on your property was purely accidental.”

She wondered if he knew who her mother was, but he answered her question straightaway. “I remember your mom well from the old days. A real firecracker. I admired her, even offered her a job, but she turned me down.”

This was news to ‘Iwa, but talking about her mom with Jones felt sacrilegious, so she just stood there.

“Your organization is costing me a lot of money, you know that?” he said.

She shrugged. “We have a vested interest in this land.”

He blew out of his nostrils, like a horse. “ My land.”

“ The land.”

“What you fail to see is that we have already jumped through the hoops. We are moving ahead. The sooner you accept that, the better things will be for all of us.”

“The court will decide.”

“It won’t get that far,” he said.

Talking was pointless, and ‘Iwa just wanted out. “I guess that remains to be seen.”

Jones leaned back and rested his head in his hands, studying her for a moment, as though he was considering whether to throw her to the pigs. “Everyone has a price, Miss Young. What about you?”

‘Iwa wished to God she had been recording this, thinking of her phone still back on the forest floor and praying she would be able to find it when she went back. “I have nothing more to say to you, and I can show myself out.”

A spot under his eye twitched. “Imagine your father, no mortgage on the house. Owning that greasy little restaurant outright. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Not everything can be bought,” she said.

He laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Then he stood up and his expression turned stormy. “Get out of here and don’t let me find you on my property again. Next time, I won’t be so friendly.”

Outside, her pack was leaning against the wall. ‘Iwa could tell by the bulges in it that things had been taken out and put back haphazardly. Clancy was standing next to it with his back to her. When he turned, she saw her camera in his hands.

She reached for it. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“No photos allowed up here.”

“Those pictures belong to me.”

“Not anymore.”

He handed her the camera, which she knew would be wiped clean of all her photographs from the day.

Jones came out. “Take her to the road.”

As she was walking down the Hāna Highway in the dark, all ‘Iwa could think about was her cell phone lying in the clearing in one of the wettest places on earth.