Over the Rainbow: Book Two - 'Ho'oponopono'

Over the Rainbow

Book Two – ‘Ho’oponopono’

Robert Vaughan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 by Robert Vaughan

Prologue

The light was bright, almost too bright, and hazy; the low-drifting clouds pink and gold, the mist rising from the sea a delightful shade of lavender. The scene was almost- surreal , indeed otherworldly, and the sand sparkled in the golden light. The beach was quiet and tranquil- the only sounds being the soft crash and fizz of the surf that came and went in a gentle whisper and the muted cry of gulls distant on the breeze.

Walter walked along the glistening shoreline, still dressed in his corporate gray, his visor tilted casually back on his head. Had he been able to see himself he might have noticed that he was also strangely glowing, almost- translucent, and would have been shocked to see this difference had he the benefit of a mirror. He was barefoot, and yet his feet left no tracks as he slowly paced through the damp sand. He continued his trackless wanderings for some indeterminate time, for time was indeed indeterminate here, eventually rounding a familiar corner of the beach, the sound of the gentle plucking and strumming of a ukulele now dancing toward his ears.

Walter looked up, realizing that he had been, until now, quite isolated, indeed alone. And yet, upon reflection, he hadn’t minded, had even relished the quiet isolation, and now almost resented this musical intrusion to his solitude. Walter paused in his trek and looked to his left- and there, at the top of the beach, was an enormous Hawaiian waving greetings in his direction, gesturing at Walter to join him on the fallen palm tree he was using as a bench.

The man spoke, Hey! Aloha, man! I was wondering when you finally gonna show up.

Walter called up to him in consternation and a hint of confusion, "What?! What are you talking about? Who in the hell are you?"

The giant man rose, dusted off his generous backside and slowly sauntered down the sand to Walter. Whoa, dude, easy there... He placed his hands on his hips and scrutinized Walter with his head tilted curiously, Man, they was right- You got some serious anger issues to deal with. And then he smiled broadly and extended a beefy hand, We never got a chance to meet. I'm Buddy.

Walter placed his hand in the giant’s paw and gave it a perfunctory shake, releasing it just as quickly. Walter. Walter Matthews. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go, I need to find my wife. He hastily turned and continued his journey down the lonely beach, and the man who had introduced himself as Buddy called gently after him.

You're not gonna find her down there, man.

Walter stopped, whirled and glared in annoyance at the behemoth and said tersely, What the hell are you talking about? Of course I will... He gestured vaguely up the beach, She's just up there at the hotel. And with that he turned and continued walking.

Buddy turned his head to the sky and addressed the heavens, "Oh, man... You didn't tell me it gonna be this tough. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he yelled to the now distant Walter as he waved a massive arm in beckoning, Yo, dude! Walter! Come 'ere."

Walter stopped, and with a baleful glance skyward, stalked back to the annoyingly insistent Buddy, who had re-planted himself on the palm-tree bench. Buddy smiled engagingly and patted the tree beside him. Sit down, bro. Take a load off. Walter looked to the sandy perch, and then sat wearily with a sigh of resignation. "Okay, you have my attention. Now what? Would you mind explaining to me how you know I'm not going to find my wife?"

Buddy stated, matter-of-fact, with a slight shrug of shoulders, "'Cause she not there bro..."

"And you know this how?"

Buddy rolled his eyes and blew through his lips in mild exasperation. "Tell you da truth, I not really sure- I just do, okay? He took a quick, short breath and continued, Okay... Here goes. Dude, Walter, take a look around. Anything look strange, kinda- different?"

Walter paused, and for the first time truly looked about and appraised his world. Nooo... not really, it's... quiet. And I must admit, more beautiful than I remember.

"Look again, you see anybody else?"

"I- no, no, I don't. That's odd... Where is everyone?"

Buddy gestured vaguely with one hand, Dey... elsewhere.

Walter’s brows creased in suspicion, "What do you mean, elsewhere...? And then he stood up abruptly and asked Buddy accusingly, Hey- what's going on? Where the hell am I?!"

Buddy held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Whoa, whoa, hold on there, easy dude... Take a minute, okay? Think back, what's da last thing you remember before showin' up here on dis beach?"

Walter hesitated, scratching his head through the open top of the visor. What? I... I was at the golf course. I had just nailed an ace on that par three, the seventeenth, and then- I remember the lightning, and then the wave, and then… Walter’s face fell with the memory and subsequent dawn of realization, Oh... my... God... Oh, no, NONONONO- OOOOH- SHI...! A wave crashed, cutting off the expletive, and Walter glared silently down at Buddy.

Buddy smiled up at Walter apologetically, almost- painfully, and said to himself, "Oh, boy, here it comes..."

"Am I... am I... dead?"

Buddy replied simply, Yup. He looked heavenward with a tilted grin and said, Hey! That wasn't so… And then he paused as a blood-curdling scream interrupted him, "...bad."

Walter was now standing with his back to Buddy, facing outward to the sea with his hands reaching imploringly to the sky as he cried beseechingly, Aaaaaaauuuuugh! Noooooooo! Nononononoooo! Please, God, tell me I'm dreaming... not now, not yet, I'm not ready- Oh please, please tell me it's not true... please? Walter waited briefly for a response, got none, and inquired hopefully, Hello? God?

Buddy shook his head slowly in a gesture of inevitability, cracked his knuckles and gusted out a sigh of breath as he ticked off fingers. "Okey-dokey, here we go- we got anger, denial... What's next?"

Walter looked feverishly about the sky for a reply, asking, "Please, God, tell me it's not true, please... I'll do anything, anything..."

Buddy smiled to himself and ticked off another finger. "Oh, yeah, yeah, right- bargaining..."

Walter whirled on Buddy and asked, You there, Buddy, hey! Are you- are you...

Buddy completed Walter’s unfinished inquiry, Dead? And then he sighed slightly and added, Yeah.

Then is this... Walter turned and gestured vaguely toward the glowing sea, Is this- Heaven?

Nope. It's pretty close, though. Don't you think?

Walter turned from side to side, pleading his case to an unresponsive Universe, But... I can't be dead, not now, not yet. I still have too much to do...

Buddy shook his head in resignation. Whoops, right back to denial. He then addressed the back of Walter. Yo. Walter. Dude.

Walter whirled on Buddy and replied tersely, What?! And then he stalked back over to Buddy and said mockingly, "I suppose you can explain this too?"

Buddy smiled brightly and nodded, "Actually, I can..."

Oh- and how's that...? Are you...? Are you an- an Angel?

"I guess you could call me that, in a way... but not exactly, you know? Buddy rolled his eyes again and blew in vexation, Man- How do I start? Dude, Walter- sit down, bro- it's gonna be a whole lot easier if I don't have to keep lookin' up at you, it's givin' me a crick in the neck.

Walter sat with an air of expectant resignation, and Buddy smiled and ticked off a final finger, Acceptance.

Starting all over again…

The niceties of an impromptu breakfast and pleasantries of mutual introductions aside, the calm of the morning quickly boiled off as the Nakamura family engaged in a heated debate about what to do about Buddy’s mortal remains. Inflamed by over-wrought emotions that destroyed all vestiges of common decency, each combatant engaged in the discussion exclusively in their own native language- Kenji (Japanese), Noelani (Hawaiian) and Alani, in English, as Abigail and Chris stood mutely by, watching the rapid-fire exchange with wide-eyed wonder.

It went something like this.

I- tell- you- he- was- Buddhist! insisted Kenji, punctuating each word with a sharp gesture of emphasis.

Noelani countered in her musical, vowel-laden tones, Buddhist, Buddhist! Buddhist! You think everybody Buddhist. When was the last time he went to Temple with you? He was Catholic!

Kenji replied with a snort of derision, Oh, because he sang in the choir? You sing as a soloist. What does that make you? A Bishop?!

Alani tried a desperate tack to quell the bitter and pointless argument. God DAMMIT, Mamma, Daddy… STOP IT! STOP IT!! STOP IT!!!

At her clearly blasphemous interjection, a shocked silence ensued, and she continued before her parents could reply, begging, "Mamma, Daddy, please stop, please! It doesn't matter anymore, HE'S DEAD!"

Fail. This only brought a renewed burst of emotional responses from both Noelani and Kenji, almost in chorus in their separate languages as they replied, Listen to you, disrespecting the memory of Buddy! I suppose you know better?

Alani responded, confident and resolute. "Yes- I do. Let me ask you- When was the last time either of you actually talked to him about anything? Silence was their mutual response, and Alani sniffed in triumph, I didn't think so- well I did, okay? She softened her tone and continued, Listen, one time, when we were flying over Maui, I actually asked him what he thought about death and dying and stuff, and he just laughed and said- 'Oh, just burn me and urn me. No wastin' space for my big ol' body in a too-crowded cemetery.' And that was it. He never said anything about it again."

Kenji, his point apparently affirmed, crowed triumphantly, See, he wanted a cremation, he was Buddhist!

Noelani threw her hands skyward in exasperation and cried, He was trying to be economical!

The argument quickly dissolved back into a completely unintelligible cacophony of sound, and Abigail turned to Chris with a tone combined of both surprise and befuddlement as she ventured, "My word! It's kind of like being at the UN- without a translator. What on Earth are they arguing about?"

Chris shrugged and offered, From what I can glean, I think it’s mostly about what to do about Buddy. And I don't think that us standing around gawking is helping much. Chris gently took Abigail’s elbow, Come on. Let's give them some time to sort this out.

As they emerged into the lush, sun-drenched courtyard, Abigail’s eyes went wide with amazement. Oh-! My goodness, look at this! It's like a park, or something right out of a fairy tale... It's so- so, peaceful.

Yeah. Nice, huh?

It's lovely. I'd love to have- had, something like this, back home... Abigail’s voice caught in her throat, the painful memories of days ago still raw and healing. A single tear trickled gently from one eye, and she sniffed and swiped at it blindly, her lower lip quivering slightly. She bit at it to still its’ trembling, and forced it into a pained smile.

Chris took her hand gently and tugged her along the path. Come on. Let's take a walk…

As they walked hand-in-hand among the flowering trees, the sound of sleepy morning birds soft and sweet, Chris suddenly stopped and asked, Mom, why are we here?

Abigail hesitated, pondered the question briefly and then replied with a shrug, Well, there are theories… for instance Joseph Campbell said once that-

Chris interrupted with a soft chuckle, No, no, wait- I didn't mean that. He swung his hand around them in a sweeping gesture and said, "I meant here, right here, right now- Why did you decide to come back here? And why right after the funeral? You didn't even pack a bag."

Abigail hesitated as she looked around with a lingering gaze, slowly taking in her new-found surroundings. She smiled almost mystically and said to the distance, "It was the wind. It was calling me home... She cast a sideways glance at Chris, a knowing smirk on her face as she saw the confusion on his, and continued, Oh, honey... I just couldn't do it... I couldn't go back... to the house, the reception, all those people... I don't know, I guess I just wasn't ready to deal with it all. She shrugged again in dismissal and stated with just a bit of child-like chagrin, So I just... ran away. I suppose it was just a little bit impulsive…"

Chris spouted, Impulsive? Ya think? Mom, you left over two hundred people hanging around in your living room wanting to be there for you, for Dad…

Abigail whirled on Chris and interrupted with a burst of unexpected emotion, Oh, Bullshit! Christopher, don't be so naïve. The majority of those people were just wolves, or vultures, or worse. All that your father's passing meant to them was that there was blood in the water, and don't bet for one minute that there aren't a dozen of them circling your grandfather for some advantage even as we speak.

But what about Uncle Mike? He could step in for Dad. Problem solved.

Abigail rolled her eyes skyward and sighed, If only it were that easy. Michael is a spineless twit, and your Grandfather knows it. And the shareholders would never approve. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't been shot down by Grandpa already, if Michael were even foolish enough to suggest it. Taking both of Chris’ hands in hers, Abigail leveled her gaze with his and carefully phrased the next. "Chris, honey, you were the future at Matthew's. Why do you think your father went through absolute hell every time you wavered, every time you broke free of the leash? It's because he knew that you were the sole salvation that the company had- you were the last hope, for the Matthew's Line, to remain in the Matthew's name."

As the weight of this admission washed over him, Chris drew a long, slow breath and replied apologetically, Mom, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never suspected... I just thought that it was because Dad was an over-controlling bastard that he did the things that he did. He countered brightly, a desperate measure to salvage the situation, But- why not Dan? He graduated top of his class at Wharton. He'd be perfect!

Abigail sighed expansively and mournfully shook her head, Honey, as bad as Michael would be, your cousin Daniel would be worse. He's arrogant, rude, backstabbing, and has all the diplomatic skills of a Klingon. Within six months he would have destroyed everything.

Chris deflated, So- why didn't he tell me?

Who- your father?

Who else? Of course- my father. Why didn't he just man up and tell me the truth?

Abigail smiled ruefully for a beat, and then confided, He was actually going to, the day he tried to talk you into going out golfing with him.

Chris replied with genuine incredulity, "Really? That’s what that was all about?"

Yes, dear. I had finally convinced him to just say it, to stop playing games and just- It doesn't really matter anyway- you obviously weren't going to see things his way anyhow, not with the way he was treating you. I guess his strategy backfired, or maybe there wasn't really any hope after all… Abigail released his hands and wandered a few feet along the path, and then turned to Chris with a loving smile as she changed the subject, You really, truly love her, don't you?

What? Wow… Yes. Yes, I do. And now- now that I've found her- I'm never going back. Chris hesitated, a slight sparkle of joyous tears in his eyes and continued stutteringly, Mom, its’ like- when I am with her, here, I finally feel... complete. There's this- connection- that I can't explain, almost like- like we just took up from wherever we left off. Like we’re continuing a relationship that never really ended, one that just... And with that he broke off, the memories of the string of bizarre occurrences drifting back into his awareness and stilling his tongue.

Abigail smiled at her son and replied softly, I understand more than you’ll ever know. I was exactly the same way with your father. I suppose that's why it hurts so much to think that he's actually gone, that he's never coming back. Abigail turned her face skyward and declared to the oblivious heavens, We were supposed to grow old together, as soon as you were set with the company. Then he could finally leave, he could finally let go.

But it's not too late, I-

Abigail interrupted with a soft shake of the head, No. Stop. Don't lie to me or yourself. There is no going back, not anymore. An ironic smile slowly spread across her face as she took another long look at her surroundings, "And it is becoming rather obvious that that particular future was never meant to be. The company will take care of itself, or it won't, it is no longer ours to decide. We are here, now, for some mysterious reason- that much is clearly apparent. Abigail turned abruptly, discovered herself in front of the flower greenhouse, and sniffed the air in curiosity. What on Earth is that incredible smell?"

Chris pushed open the stained plastic door and gestured grandly within, See for yourself.

Abigail poked her head in, and pulled it back out with a gasp, Oh, my goodness! What is this? Christopher, it's beautiful!

Chris shrugged, and continued suggestively, "Maybe this is your future. Perhaps your path of destiny starts right in there…"

A sudden, unexpected gust of island breeze tousled Chris’ hair, the crystalline tinkling of wind chimes riding past, and Chris suddenly paused and tilted his head into the wind as if an ethereal voice were calling to him. Hey, you know what? I'm gonna go check out Buddy’s- I’m gonna check out the plane. Go, take your time, smell the roses, or whatever they are. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?

But, they won't mind? I mean-

Chris dismissed her concerns with a warm smile, adding, Mom, if there's one thing I've learned from the short time I've known these people, it's that they would be delighted to be sharing them with you. It's what they do. I'll be right back… Chris kissed her gently on the cheek in departure and said with a wink, I love you.

Walter looked slowly around, his eyes creasing in confusion, So, if this isn't heaven... it’s certainly not-

Buddy replied to the unspoken word, a wave of his giant hand in dismissal, Hell? Naaaaw, no such thing.

Walter scoffed, "What do you mean, ‘No such thing…’ what about-?"

Again Buddy finished Walter’s thought, All them stories you read in the Bible? He blew a sharp raspberry and continued with another dismissive wave of his hand, Naw, they's just made up to scare people, to try to keep them on the path of good...

"So if there's no hell, how does God punish evil?"

Buddy frowned, Hmmm, wow, dude, I'm not sure how to put this, but- here goes. Stay wit' me, okay? Buddy gazed off into the distance for a time, and then his head swung ponderously around and his eyes focused pointedly on Walter’s. Okay, two things. First off, God don't nevah 'punish' no one. Ever- it’s not in his nature- not cosmically possible. And two- God don't know what 'evil' is, okay? Just light, and dark... yin and yang, opposites, you know? Positives and negatives... You can't have one without the other, right? Like the idea of ‘good’ or ‘evil’. A lot of what people think is real is actually just an illusion, man-made definitions of what they can’t explain…

Walter interjected with vexation, But what about all the bad things that people do?

Buddy’s eyebrows rose and he smiled a tiny smile. Oh, the Universe- or ‘God’, if you want something tangible to pin it on- God still has a plan to help fix that- some people might call it ‘Karma’.

What, you mean like the Buddhists? That kind of Karma? Where if you're bad in this life, you come back as a bug, or worse?

Buddy laughed roundly, the sound drifting down the beach and dissolving on the breeze. Oh, nooo- Man, it's not like that at all. That’s as silly as the concept of hell. Let me put it this way- Karma is kinda like- like cosmic baggage for the soul, ya know? From what I know so far, Karma is just there to help the spirit- some people call it the soul, to learn lessons from life. To- I suppose you could say to help them ultimately achieve ‘Nirvana’.

Walter chimed in encouragingly, Nirvana? You mean like- heaven.

Buddy frowned and said, If you mean like da one-and-done idea of heaven- the final reward after a lifetime of suffering? Yes and no. Yeah, heaven is the end of the road, but it’s not a destination. It’s just a- transition.

Walter’s face clouded over. And that's it-? Walter snapped his fingers, Finis? Game over?

Dude, the game never really ends. But yeah, I guess so... Buddy frowned sideways and shrugged as he considered the last and then concluded, But Nirvana’s not that easy, man. It take a long, long time, bro- many, many lifetimes I guess for most people. Others, they make the grade sooner- I suppose jus' they learn faster, that's all.

Walter contemplated this revelation for a long time in a brooding silence, staring quietly out to the lavender sea, asking finally, Hmmm… so what now?

"What, for you? Don't know, bro, that's your Karma. As for me, I got some business to take care of..."

Buddy rose ponderously from the palm-tree bench, brushed sand from his generous backside, stretched his arms languorously over his head and then began to saunter off toward the trees lining the beach. As Walter watched Buddy approach the dense foliage he gaped in amazement as the giant man suddenly began to glow, becoming ever more transparent as he slowly walked away.

Walter found his voice and called after him, Hey, wait! Where are you going? What am I supposed to do now?

The spectral form of Buddy answered, "Don't know, they don't tell me everything- maybe you just take a walk, enjoy the sunshine, smell the ocean... Don't worry, you find out something or other soon enough, dat much I do know... Aloha!" And with that he faded out completely, and was gone.

Walter stood and stared at the place where Buddy had just disappeared and muttered, Great. Just great... He slowly rose and started to meander along the shoreline, retracing the path he had traversed earlier, now talking to himself in his renewed isolation, "Just ‘take a walk’? Where? He paused and looked skyward with his hands on hips and addressed the heavens with a sweeping glance, Okay, God, a little guidance would be helpful right about now... hello? God?" But, since God didn’t answer, Walter thrust his hands into his pockets and continued his walk, the low waves splashing playfully about his feet, golden sparkles fizzing up from the lacy pink foam.

Eventually he rounded a distant corner and saw a strangely familiar outcropping of rocks just ahead, a curious sound drifting toward him on the breeze. It was the distinctly mechanical sound of earth-moving equipment.

Chris wandered around the plane, running his hands over the control surfaces, touching the tires, all the time gazing in admiration and a bit of child-like awe at the vintage aircraft. As he continued his walk-around, inspecting the plane with meticulous detail, actions he realized as an almost unconscious force of habit, he declared to himself, Man, they just don't make 'em like this anymore... Finishing his circumnavigation of the idle craft, he found himself standing with hands on hips in front of the port-side cargo door. Grasping the handle, he turned it and the door popped open and slid aside, revealing a darkened interior within. With his hands on either side of the door opening, he peered inside somewhat hesitantly, his skin crawling just a bit in an unconscious reaction to his arachnophobia, and he called out gently, Hey! Mr. Spider? Hello? Hey, it's just me- hello? Arnold? Chris laughed shakily, trying to calm his jangled nerves, Oh my God, listen to me- I'm talking to a damn bug. And with that, he climbed into the open doorway.

Abigail moved timidly through the entrance to the greenhouse, carefully stepping over the high threshold as if it were a sort of magical barrier to a strange and mysterious land. The piquant aroma and kaleidoscopic mix of colors nearly overwhelmed her senses as she moved into the midst of the floral forest. A few yards in, the outside world nearly ceased to exist, the only sign of this being an indoor space being the presence of the overhead fans that circled around lazily above her head, gently stirring the various leaves and flowers and swirling the warm, fragrant atmosphere in almost dizzying eddies of scent.

Abigail wandered in and out of the overflowing tables, unable to resist touching the various and exotic species as she passed, now completely immersed in her own private petting zoo of plants. She came around a corner of a table clustered thickly with bright golden ‘ilima, their glossy dark leaves glistening from a recent watering, and found herself in an large, open space; a long, solitary table in the center littered with jumbled piles of blossoms. One side of the table was a space entirely cleared of flowers, several half-finished leis piled in a casual mound, the evidence of their construction lying about haphazardly, almost as if they had suddenly been abandoned. As Abigail approached the deserted workbench, she leaned in to savor the fragrance of the pink-tinted plumeria- and suddenly heard the distant sound of knocking.

The flight deck of the ‘Menehune’ was dark, dappled sunlight filtering through the camouflage netting draped casually over the outside of the craft. Chris stepped gingerly over the steel plate that separated the cargo area from the cockpit, simultaneously wanting to avoid contact with this almost sacred shrine of aviation and alternately play like a child with all the fascinating knobs, cranks and geegaws that ranged over every surface of the interior.

As his gaze slid over the multitude of photos that were stuffed and strewn throughout the cockpit, he gently lowered himself into the pilot’s chair, a wide grin of anticipation coursing lopsidedly across his face. He reached to take the control wheel in his eager hands, and as he touched it…

The world shifted.

It was suddenly dark, the dim glow of cockpit lights flickering and flashing almost at random, and the plane bucked and reared as the incandescent flash and resounding bang of flak exploded outside the starboard window. A streak of tracer fire preceded a whistling trail of anti-aircraft rounds that nearly struck the plane from the darkness below.

Chris looked quickly out the port window, seeing a nightmarish landscape glowing with fires below him, silent eruptions of flame following his course over the German town of Dresden, the result of the massive bombing being inflicted with ruthless intent by the Allied forces. His radio crackled with a staticky garble of chatter, tight and panicky voices overlapping each other in his ears, undecipherable beneath the roar of the Electra’s engines and the explosions outside his windows.

Suddenly, another deafening barrage of anti-aircraft artillery found their mark just behind the cockpit, tearing huge shredded holes into the plane. Chris ducked instinctively, hunching his shoulders in a futile attempt at protection, and exclaimed, ‘HO-LY SHI-!’ his words cut off by a huge explosion from his port-side engine, the massive radial whirling into a thousand flaming fragments and ripping itself from the tortured wing. Fire billowed into the cramped confines of the tiny cockpit as Chris reached for the radio handset, and he heard himself saying, Mayday! MAYDAY!!! Control, this is Zulu Alpha Tango One One Niner! REPEAT, MAYDAY! I AM HIT AND GOING DOWN! His cries for help were suddenly cut off as another fiery explosion rocked his world as the remainder of the port wing sheared from the craft, pitching the plane into a sickening downward spiral.

Chris slapped at his seat belt, instinctively tightening the harness of the parachute strapped to his back, and quickly looked to his right, shouting, Tom! TOM!!! We gotta-! But it was too late. Tom Cochran, his co-pilot and closest friend was slumped over to one side, blood soaking his chest, a huge wound and seared flesh covering what once had been his left temple- he was dead.

The fatally-damaged aircraft swirled downward in flames, and Chris struggled out of the cockpit, being tossed about like a broken doll as he fought his way toward the port-side cargo door. Lunging toward it in a final desperate move, he caught the handle and tugged, kicking and hitting it to force it open. After what seemed an eternity of battle, it popped open and a gust of cold acrid air hit him in the face, knocking the breath from him for a moment, and he saw the world spinning crazily below, the fractured landscape whirling in a smeary blobs of light and dark. He caught his breath with a gasp, grabbing both sides of the door opening with his hands, steading himself for the inevitable, and with a final, backward glance, he grabbed the release ring of his parachute- and JUMPED.

The burning aircraft spiraled away from him as his parachute opened, and Chris glanced down at the world below, the cold night air stinging his eyes and blurring them with tears that nearly froze before they could stream away

He heard the sound before his vision cleared- the distinct shrill whistle of a shell, another round of flak, coming his way, the sound growing louder in an instant as they rapidly closed the gap between themselves. The flash of light and crack of man-made thunder were simultaneous, and as the dark night sky flashed to blinding brightness-

The world flashed back to the ‘now’.

Chris released the wheel with a sharp gasp as if burned by it and he patted his chest in panic and confusion. Son-of-a-BITCH! he cried in alarm, "Is that ALWAYS going to happen?"

Waiting a long moment for his racing heart to slow and his ragged breath to return to normal, Chris slowly re-oriented himself with his world; the jumble of controls, the multitude of switches and indicators stuffed to overflowing with overlapping family photos, and a document case to his upper left, incongruously filled nearly to bursting with what seemed to be dozens of music CD’s.

Without thinking Chris reached up and grabbed one at random, triggering a veritable avalanche of them into his lap, a cascade of thin square cases showering down on him from above and scattering everywhere in the cramped confines of the pilot’s chair.

Crap… he muttered, and began to slowly gather them up, carefully inspecting each one in turn as he did. Music from every imaginable genre, every bygone era greeted his eyes, and he glanced sidelong out the window to the memory of Buddy and said to himself, "Geez, when you said that 'it's all good', I didn't think you meant like- everything..."

Carefully stacking them in ranks of six or seven, Chris reached back up to the visor to stuff them back into place when a rectangular, yellowed envelope tumbled from the pouch and landed in his lap. Chris looked down at the long, narrow paper in surprise and confusion and then noticed the words carefully scrawled upon its’ surface. He picked it up and read, and as he did his breath caught in his throat. For on its’ surface was written-

‘In the event of my Death’

Chris’ heart skipped a beat, and he slowly turned the envelope over and ran his finger across the sealed flap. The stained and faded envelope popped open, the glue that held it shut now dried and yellowed, and a single sheet of pale parchment peeked from within. Chris delicately extracted the paper from the envelope and unfolded it gingerly. At the top of the page was a date- September 18, 2002, and a place name- Hana, Maui. Just below that were written the words- My Last Will and Testament. Chris stifled a curse and hastily stuffed the paper back into the envelope, scrambled stumblingly out of the plane and hit the ground at a dead run as he raced back down the hill.

The knocking repeated, louder this time, and Abigail peered out the dusty screen door. A large Polynesian woman, her long flowing hair just beginning to turn silver at the temples, was seen peering in at her through the dusty screen. She was holding a loosely woven basket filled to overflowing with flowers, creamy white Plumeria blossoms and delicate golden-orange 'ilima petals. Shielding her eyes to see inside, she called through the door, Abigail? Missus Mayhew? Are you there?

Abigail pushed open the door with a tiny squeak of rusty hinges and ushered the woman inside excitedly, Polly! E Como Mai! Welcome! Come in, come in!

The large woman smiled brightly, straight white teeth gleaming from her warm, brown face, and said, Good morning! I brought you something.

Abigail took the offered basket and sniffed the jumbled blooms rapturously as she exclaimed, Oh, they're beautiful! Thank you- Mahalo, very much. Gesturing enthusiastically for the woman to enter, she followed her to the large oval table in the center of the kitchen, the room glowing warmly in the light streaming through the multitude of windows that filled the wall of the kitchen conservatory.

Abigail sipped from the delicate china cup perched in her hands, looking from the half-finished basket of scones to the basket of flowers, now noticeably diminished of its’ contents, the result of two gorgeous leis that lay finished on the table before her. She reached to the basket and plucked a single bloom from within, studying its beauty with a smile of appreciation before asking, ... and this one? What do you call it?

"That one we call 'pumeli' or sometimes 'melia'. You English would know them as 'plumeria'."

"They smell delicious. And the little orange ones? What are they?"

Pa’hia smiled knowingly, and replied, Those are called 'ilima. They are the flower of all ali'i- you know, royalty? They were once reserved only for our king and queen. Very special. Pa’hia paused in her explanation, and began to string another set of flowers in the same pattern as the others. Without looking at Abigail, she queried, Your husband, he is coming home today?

Abigail swung her gaze outward through the multi-paned windows of the kitchen conservatory, a sigh of longing escaping her lips, Oh, I do hope so. She gathered up the lei nearest her and continued, I was making this for him, to surprise him when he gets home. How does it look, did I get it right?

Pa’hia smiled benevolently, It is perfect. He will be very… And then she suddenly paused, her gaze travelling out to the water beyond, a look of pain and fear crossing her face as she continued, ...pleased. She stood abruptly, dabbing at her lips with a lacy handkerchief and said, I must go now.

"Now-? But we've only just started. Please stay, finish your tea."

"I- cannot. I am sorry. I will see you again, yes?"

"Yes, yes of course. Is there something wrong?"

Pa’hia backed away from the table and stammered, I- I cannot say. I am sorry. She pulled her gaze back into the room, and locked her eyes with Abigail’s. You must go to him.

Abigail stood, her gaze trailing out to the water, as if attempting to discern the cause of her friend’s unexpected behavior, But- I don't understand... Where are you going? And what do you mean, 'I must go to him'? Go to whom?

Pa’hia’s voice now began to sound more distant, almost as if she were speaking through a veil of time and space, and she repeated, You must go to him. He needs you.

"But- but where?"

Pa’hia handed Abigail a large pink Hibiscus. She spoke no more, merely smiled bittersweet and then turned and walked away, fading like mist, and disappeared.

The disturbing vision cleared, and Abigail stiffened, gasping in shock as she looked to the object in her hand. For there, clutched tightly within her fingers- was the exact same lei from her vision. With her heart now racing from the unexpected shock, it skipped a notch higher and she nearly fainted when she saw the flower she was holding in her other hand- it was the same pink Hibiscus.

Chris raced breathlessly into the courtyard and slid to a stop as he saw Alani sitting morosely on the bench beneath the Chinese wisteria, her head slumped in her hands. He strode quickly over to her and sat without speaking.

Alani spoke woodenly without looking up, Hey.

Hey, yourself. Uh- How's it going?

The sound of breaking dishes jerked her gaze toward the house, and she said with irony, Sounds like they're making progress. Now broken from her solemn reverie, she turned to Chris and saw the letter clutched in his hand and asked, What's that?

Chris smiled grimly, I think it's the answer. He rose and pulled her to her feet and said glumly, Come on.

Alani led a clearly frightened and obviously reluctant Chris into the kitchen, carefully stepping around the broken shards of crockery that littered the floor. Behind the counter, Noelani and Kenji continued to argue, oblivious to their daughter’s entrance.

Alani called loudly, Mamma! Neither responded, so she tried again, Mamma! Daddy! Still nothing. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she reached out and grabbed her mother’s shoulder, MAMMA! E-NOUGH!!!

Noelani whirled, her face a mask of anger at this intrusion and yelled, WHAT! Seeing Alani before her, Chris standing just behind, her tone softened as she inquired apologetically, Oh, I'm sorry... 'Lani, what is it?

Alani hauled Chris out from behind her and nearly shoved him toward her parents, "Mamma, Daddy, Chris has something to