The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

Hana Hou

‘Iwa

A week later

Saturday morning, ‘Iwa lay with her head under the pillow, trying to shut out the sounds of the morning rooster symphony. Sleep had been eluding her lately, and she moved through her days with glazed eyes, barely hanging on. To make matters worse, Koa had snuck into her bed in the night, leaving her only a foot of mattress space. Every now and then, his tail started thumping and his legs moved, as though chasing crabs on the beach in his dreams. It was too early to get up, and all she wanted was to fall back asleep. Maybe stay in bed all day.

Then her phone buzzed. She groaned. It was unusually early for anyone to call, so she stuck out her arm and felt around for it on the bedside table. It was Winston.

“Hey, Winston, what’s up?” she croaked.

“Are you sitting down?” he asked.

‘Iwa threw the pillow off her head and sat up. “Now I am, why?”

“Because I heard from Judge Atkins late last night.”

There was a smile behind his words. “What did he say?” she asked, breathless.

“No Zen Mountain Retreat in Hana‘iwa‘iwa. Not now, not ever.”

‘Iwa almost dropped the phone. “Promise me you’re serious.”

Winston laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “You heard me. Someone upstairs heard our pleas and the eco resort project is halted, effective now.”

“What did he say? Tell me in detail, every word.”

Koa rolled over and leaned into her.

“He said the eco resort should have never been approved in the first place on such ecologically important lands. The entire valley is going to be rezoned conservation. Jones won’t be able to clear another inch, and he’s going to have to tear down that warehouse. Atkins didn’t come out and say it, but it sounds like he plans on digging around to see who pushed those permits through.”

“Some greedy asshole who needed more money for his next Vegas trip, is who. Listen, I’m having dinner with my dad at Uncle’s later. Come in tonight and we’ll celebrate?”

“Great minds. I was thinking the same thing,” he said.

“Perfect. Invite everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“The whole island if you want. My dad will love it.”

‘Iwa rested her forehead in her hands and began sobbing. Never stop fighting for what is right and good in this world. She felt her mother’s presence all around her. Rushing water on rocks. The high-pitched call of the kiwikiu. Mist rolling down the mountain. Land was a keeper of memories, and now all the memories of her mother, and those of the forest, the ancestors, would not be erased. Koa sat up and nudged her hands, then tenderly licked her face.

“Thanks, boy, I love you, too,” she said.

And thank you, Mom.

Spring on Maui brought rain and sun in equal measure. The kōlea were all suited up—their black neck feathers having come in—and ready to fly to Alaska, whales breached in the waters all around Maui, and baby birds proliferated. Even with the waterfall win, she felt off-kilter. Banging into things, misplacing her phone, mind jetting off to California. Santa Cruz. Dane’s house.

Before meeting her father for dinner, she took Koa to the beach, where the salty smell of the ocean and the crashing of waves brought her back to earth. She sat down in the powdery sand and watched Koa dig hole after hole down by the water. Winston’s words from the other night kept replaying. Maybe Winston was right. Was it fair to let Dane go simply because she was afraid to lose him? She had never thought of herself as a coward, but lately she wondered.

“Loving is the easy part,” her father had said. “And oftentimes it’s not a choice. But love and loss are inseparable. You can’t have one without the other.”

Just then, Koa ran up dripping wet and sideswiped her, dropping a coconut on her big toe.

‘Iwa winced. “Ouch!”

All riled up, he started barking at the coconut. ‘Iwa grabbed it and walked toward the water, letting her feet sink into the deep sand as she threw the coconut a few times. Koa wasn’t the best swimmer, but he was definitely the splashiest. Each time he came out of the water, he ran straight for her and she was half soaked. But this last time, he made a beeline off to her right.

“Hey, Koa, I’m right here, buddy,” she called, reaching out to try and snag his collar.

‘Iwa turned, ready to assure whoever was coming that he didn’t bite, when her heart fell all the way to the center of the earth.

“‘Iwa,” he said, his voice a gust of wind.

“Dane? What are you doing here?”

Koa reached him and offered him the coconut. Dane threw it far into the water. Koa took off at a full gallop. For a moment, ‘Iwa thought about doing the same, but no, not this time.

“Your dad said you were here,” he said.

Those deep sea eyes held her in place.

“I mean on Maui. Are you here for another contest?” she asked, well aware there were no big swells on their way.

Dane moved closer, until he was a foot away. “No contest. I came to see you.”

“You did?” ‘Iwa could barely breathe.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He closed the gap, so he was only an inch or two away. “I think you know why,” he said.

“I do?” Her voice cracked.

“I needed to come here one more time, where it was just the two of us, and look you in the eye.”

He was definitely doing that, and ‘Iwa felt his tug like a swiftly moving current. “Have we not been through this?” she asked, trying to buy some time and she knew it, as the familiar fear of loss scraped along her spine.

“I’m here because I couldn’t stay away, to be honest. I will do anything you ask, ‘Iwa. Anything. If you’ll just give me another chance.” His jaw was clenched and he was all stone-faced and serious. She realized this was just as scary for him.

The truth was: she needed to give him another chance. As much as she needed air and water and sunlight. The only way forward, she realized, was through forgiveness.

“What if I said yes?” she said, dipping her head. “Theoretically speaking.”

The edges of his mouth flickered. “When I told you I love you, I’ve never meant anything more. There is nothing theoretical about it. Ever since that first night I saw you at Uncle’s, you had me.”

A warmth unfurled through her like a tender fern tip. They were now facing each other, and he reached up and touched her cheek. Her body moved from storm to sunshine, and that darkness that had been burrowing into her lately lightened. Dane slid his hand gently behind her neck and drew her in, burying his face in her hair. His familiar smell made her toes tingle.

He exhaled long and hard. “I blew it so badly the night I kissed Sunny, even before that. And I can’t blame the alcohol or pain meds. It was me being pissed off and scared and jealous. Seeing you talking to Luke, dumb as it sounds, turned some screw in my head that said, She’s going to leave your sorry ass . And—”

‘Iwa held a finger to his lips. There would be time for understanding, but now was not that time. “I love you, too, Dane. Maybe not from that first night—you were kind of full of yourself,” she had to add, “but by the time we made it to Waikula, I was swayed.”

Dane pulled back, eyes searching hers. “That long, huh?”

“Better late than never.”

A full-bore smile, and he swept her close again. She held on tight, cheek on his shoulder. Having his warm body next to her after all this time uncorked something inside, and tears dampened her face. Rainwater tears. Waterfall tears. Tears of the ocean and friendship and love.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said.

“I should have come sooner.”

Dane was a living prayer, and now that he was here, she knew that she would never, ever, let him go. The ocean might take him any day, so could a hundred other things, but that was the way of life, wasn’t it?

Before the sun had even set, the steady trickle of people coming into Uncle’s turned into a river. Eddie had called in backup when she told him the news. Winston must have taken ‘Iwa at her word and called in the troops. From Keala, Parker and Laurent—who worked the other side of the mountain—to Kawika, to aunties and uncles who had helped get her petition signed. Kalo farmers. Department of Forestry guys. Paniolos. Surfers. Cashiers at Mana Foods. Anyone who believed that enough was enough.

Her father came out, banging a skillet with a big ladle, and announced, “Open tab, thanks to Dane Parsons for his generosity.”

‘Iwa turned to Dane, eyes wide. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Stop. This is your night. You have so much to celebrate,” he said.

He was right. Today was likely to go down in the record books as one of the best days of her life.

The only time she had ever seen so many people crammed into Uncle’s was last winter, the night of the Pe’ahi Challenge. Heat from all the bodies caused her to feel lightheaded. Or maybe it was from having Dane there, on the same island, under the same roof, standing by her side.

Out back, Uncle Tutu was softly strumming slack key guitar so that everyone could talk story. Soon after, newspeople showed up, asking for interviews. ‘Iwa had not prepared for this, was wearing torn jeans and a tank top, and still had damp, salty hair from a quick dip with Dane before leaving the beach.

“Miss Young, this feels like a big win for Maui. How does it feel to have played such a hand in it?”

She did her best to sound intelligent. “It feels right. What I mainly think about are all those birds and trees and the land itself that now has a chance. We are on a small island—if we keep destroying our watersheds and filling them with hotels and condos, we will lose what sustains us. So tonight, I am happy for our win, but also worried for our future battles. Because there will be more, you can count on that.”

And so it went.

Then ‘Iwa saw a familiar face in the crowd. “Kama, you’re here! Dane told me about your eardrum,” she said.

He came over and she hugged him tight. “News travels fast.”

“The coconut wireless, alive and well.”

‘Iwa wished she could sit him and Dane down in the far corner of the lānai and catch up on life away from all the noise, but behind them, the microphone crackled to life.

Winston now stood next to Tutu. “Everyone keeps asking when we’re going to sing the Waikula song. How about it, ‘Iwa, you ready to give the people what they want?”

Voices rose around them, hands clapped.

“I have to do this, but let’s talk later?” she said to Kama.

She sat next to Winston. Her father had pushed his way to them with her guitar, and she happily took it. “Here’s to chasing waterfalls,” she said into the mic, then began to strum.

The words came easily, and for the first time since writing the song, she felt like light on the water. It was no longer an urgent call for help, but a song of celebration. Winston accompanied her on vocals and she could tell by the quiet in the air when they finished that the song had worked its magic. After the final strum, she looked over at Winston, then to Dane, who was sitting an arm’s length away, looking very touchable. If only she could bottle this moment.