Chapter 18

18

As the sun descended to the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange and pink, Aunt Fae and I arrived at the Kaihales’ annual Christmas luau. Their lush, carefully mowed yard and open garage, decorated into a party zone, were alive with twinkling lights, laughter, and the melodious strains of Artie’s ukulele playing holiday music. Children ran around with glow sticks, pinwheels, and jingle bells, their excited voices mixing with the music.

We’d both dressed in our finest aloha wear—Aunt Fae in another ugly sweater, this one decorated with a surfing Santa with a lit-up red nose. She wore a matching velvet Santa hat and carried a big velour sack of gifts from us. I wore a formfitting scarlet dress with white plumerias on it, something Elle had talked me into ordering “to make Keone’s eyes pop.”

The moment we stepped into the open garage, the rich aroma of roast pork wafted through the air from the nearby imu , where a whole pig had been cooking underground all day. The scent mingled with the sweet fragrance of leis worn by many of the guests.

Near the center of the gathering, in front of a row of chairs set in a half-circle, a halāu hula was performing, their graceful movements telling stories of ancient Hawaii and the spirit of aloha. The dancers’ ti leaf skirts swayed in perfect unison, rustling softly with each movement. Their hands rippled like gentle waves, reflecting the glow of tiki torches that lined the performance area.

As we made our way through the crowd, the vibrant colors of aloha shirts and long muumuus created a festive kaleidoscope. The air was filled with a chorus of “Merry Christmas!” greetings, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter.

We soon spotted the Red Hat ladies, impossible to miss with their bold purple dresses and striking toppers. Clara and Edith were engaged in an animated conversation with Rita and Maile, their voices carrying over the general hubbub of the party.

“Kat! Fae!” Pearl called out, waving us over. “Come try this fantastic poke. Lani really outdid herself this year!” We made our way to the food tables, where Lani, the Nakasone girls’ pretty aunt, was busily tending to the impressive spread. Her expert hands moved swiftly, replenishing dishes, and arranging platters with an artist’s eye.

“ Mele Kalikimaka ,” Lani greeted us warmly. “Help yourselves! We have everything from traditional kalua pork to my special Christmas mochi.”

The tables were a feast for both the eyes and the palate. Vibrant green ti leaves contrasted with the rich brown of the kalua pork. The lomi lomi salmon glistened with diced tomatoes and green onions, while the purple-gray poi sat in smooth mounds next to golden brown slices of turkey and the gleaming white of mounded rice and mashed potatoes.

Artie struck up a lively rendition of “ Feliz Navidad ” on his ukulele, the cheerful notes floating on the evening breeze. The dancers broke into an improvisation. Soon the lawn was filled with people dancing, their faces glowing in the warm light of the tiki torches.

I spotted Aunt Fae laughing with the Red Hat ladies, their vibrant hats bobbing as they swayed to the music. Rita and Maile were teaching some of the younger children a simple hula , their hands gracefully mimicking the palm trees. Near the dessert table, Josie was animatedly describing something to Pearl, gesturing with a half-eaten piece of pineapple.

As I surveyed the feast, savoring the mouthwatering aromas, I heard Edith’s voice nearby. She was chatting with the Nakasone girls, their conversation punctuated by frequent giggles.

Scanning the area for Keone, my heart raced when I finally spotted him near the drink table, looking handsome in a crisp red aloha shirt and black jeans. Our eyes met across the crowded table, and for a moment, everything seemed to stand still.

Taking a deep breath, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small sprig of mistletoe I’d tucked away, nabbed from the Post Office earlier. As Keone approached, I held it up above us, a smile on my lips. “ Mele Kalikimaka , Keone,” I said softly, my voice nearly lost in the festive sounds around us.

His eyes crinkled with warmth. “Merry Christmas, Kitty Kat,” he replied, his voice filled with affection. We leaned in, our lips meeting in a tender kiss. The sounds of the luau faded away, and for that moment, it was just us: two people in love, standing beneath the mistletoe.

As we parted, I saw the joy in Keone’s eyes, mirroring the happiness I felt bubbling up inside me. The weight I’d been carrying since he gave me the bracelet seemed to lift, replaced by peace.

But before I could say anything, a cheer went up from the crowd. We turned to see Ilima Kaihale, resplendent in a red and green muumuu , calling for everyone’s attention now that the hula dancers had completed their number.

“Aloha, friends and ‘ohana !” she called, her resonant voice carrying over the sounds of the party. “The pig is ready, the poi is pounded, and the pineapple upside-down cake is . . . well, upside-down! Let’s eat, drink, and be merry!”

The crowd surged towards the food tables, and I was swept along with the tide of hungry partygoers. I felt Keone’s hand slip into mine, anchoring us together.

Ilima stood at the end of the table, directing everyone into two lines, one on either side of the serving table. When she saw us, her face brightened even more. Her gaze landed on the golden bangle on my wrist. “Oh, Kat! He gave you the bracelet!”

My cheeks flushed with self-consciousness as everyone around us paused to stare. “It’s so beautiful, Ilima. Thank you for sharing your heirloom with me.”

She caught my wrist in her hand and tapped the lettering on the bracelet. “This piece is special. Filled with mana , love, and good luck. I am pleased my boy gave it to you.”

Our gazes met. I saw nothing in her wide brown eyes but kindness and acceptance—and my eyes filled. I reached out and embraced her, forgetting all about my touch avoidance.

“Thank you,” I said. “Keone is lucky to have you for a mom.”

“You can share me,” she whispered in my ear. “As my hānai daughter.”

I sniffed loudly, unable to speak. I’d learned recently about the Hawaiian tradition of informal adoption known as hānai.

I was once an orphan; now I had two moms—Aunt Fae and Ilima. Three, if you counted Opal, and she’d want to be counted. Plus Artie as my father figure. I had a family, now. A big one. A true ‘ ohana.

I was about to lose it; my whole body shook with emotion.

Keone patted my back. “Let her go, Mom. Kat’s got a touchphobia.”

But when Ilima loosened her arms, I tightened mine. “Thank you,” was all I could choke out.

“You’re welcome,” Ilima replied. “Now go get some food. You’re too skinny.”

“She only criticizes the ones she loves,” Keone whispered in my ear. “Get ready for lots of helpful comments like that.”

I nodded, still choked up. As we filled our plates with kalua pork, lomi salmon, and all the other festive Hawaiian delicacies, the bracelet around my wrist no longer felt weighty. It was bright with a promise of love and belonging.

Surrounded by the warmth of our community and with Keone by my side, whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. And wasn’t that, after all, what the holidays were truly about?

As the stars twinkled overhead and the sound of music provided a gentle backdrop to the festivities, I squeezed Keone’s hand. “You were so mysterious with all those phone calls, babe. Got something you want to tell me?”

“I had another job offer. Moving up to flying jets. But it required moving to California.”

I pulled back, my eyes widening. “What?”

“I already said no. I’ve decided I won’t take anything that pulls me too far away.” Keone tugged me close and smiled at me, his eyes full of love. “ Mele Kalikimaka , Kat. Here’s to another year of helping the lost find their way home.”