“Powerful place. Especially for women.”
“I felt that,” Hildy agreed. “The energy.”
“Want to hear the story of how it got its name?”
“Yes,” Hildy said, only a beat ahead of her uncle’s, “Hear, hear!”
Tutu inclined her head, like a queen acknowledging her subjects.
“There was once a great king.” She let her gaze stray to UncleRichard, who bounced with excitement. “Strong, with plenty of taro to feed his many wives.”
Hildy choked a little. Her uncle remained rapt.
“But this king was getting older. He asked his queen, ‘Who will rule my kingdom after I am gone? I need a son.’”
“I have two,” Uncle Richard whispered, holding up two fingers. “Sons.”
“The king was very lucky. The next full moon, his wife gave birth to a fat, healthy baby.”
Keoki rubbed Cici’s stomach.
“The baby”—Tutu paused dramatically—“was not a son.”
“Shark baby?” one of Keoki’s brothers asked.
Tutu frowned at him. “The baby was a girl. A beautiful daughter. Any man would be proud—except that stubborn king. He only wanted a son. So the queen hid her daughter away in a cave, and told the king the baby was stolen by menehune.”
“Uh, Grandma?” Keoki sounded nervous. “That’s a little dark.” He tipped his head at Cici.
“Pshht.” Tutu flicked her hand at him. “She’s a lot tougher than you.” Cici patted his shoulder.
“This princess grew up wise and strong,” Tutu continued. “Skilled at hunting and fishing, weaving lauhala, tending her garden. They called her Malaekahana, and word of her bravery spread to the old king. ‘If only I had a son like Malaekahana,’ he said to his queen, for there had been no more children. ‘Then I would know my kingdom will live on, even after I am gone.’”
“The queen said, ‘Why not make Malaekahana your heir? Everyone loves her. And she has great hair.’ But the king said, ‘Bah. A woman cannot rule. It has to be a son.’ And so that stubborn king never saw what was right in front of him. On the day he died, with no daughter to comfort him, or keep his kingdom strong, he could barely whisper, ‘Bring me Malaekahana.’ But itwas too late!” Tutu raised her index finger. “By then, Malaekahana had her own kingdom. After the king passed, she took his land, too, and that’s why her name is spoken to this day—but the king is a nameless ghost.”
“So sad,” Hildy said after the applause died down. “It was right there in front of him the whole time. A worthy successor. If only he hadn’t been blinded by his outdated patriarchal assumptions. He must have so many regrets.” She side-eyed Uncle Richard.
“Is that a real story?” Jefferson pitched his voice low so only Libby could hear.
“Tutu made a few modifications. Too on-the-nose?”
“I think the intended audience liked it.”
They watched Hildy throw herself at Tutu in an exuberant hug, while Uncle Richard told anyone who would listen that he’d always considered himself a feminist.
Keoki picked up his ukulele and started strumming. He didn’t sing the lyrics, so it took Jefferson a few measures to recognize the tune as “I’m Every Woman.”
“Do you think it’ll make her happy?” Libby asked quietly. “If she gets her way about the job—whatever it costs. Will it be worth it in the end?”
Jefferson tapped the neck of his beer bottle as he considered his response. He was close enough to sense the tension in Libby’s body, even without touching her. There was a question behind the question, and he couldn’t deny the spark of curiosity it lit within him. Was this about working with Hildy, or something more personal?
Maybe it was all his imagination—with a little help from Hildy’s insinuations—and Libby was perfectly happy in her marriage. He forced himself to take the high road, playing it cool and neutral.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to know before it happens.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could speak, Keoki called down the table.
“Li’l Bit. You need to get back to the house.”
