Pele's Fire: Phantom Lover 16 by AJ Llewellyn

Author:AJ Llewellyn [Llewellyn, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Pele Press
Published: 2023-12-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 4

Pele, as in my child, became another person when she was led by diving inspiration. She ceased to be my three-year-old. She became a woman. Seriously. She had poise beyond her years, and a confidence that shocked me. It was as if Goddess Pele led her, encouraged and guided her, then released her. Afterward, my three-year-old wanted her parents back. She always needed a lot of kisses and hugs and she was always famished. Right now, she was large and in charge, running faster and faster through thorny patches of kiawe trees.

She climbed downhill. We were all barefoot and, frankly, I wasn’t having much fun. We all hurried to keep up with her. Even the kids were huffing and puffing by the time we arrived at a small pond.

Shocked, I looked down and saw the reflection of a little girl. I peered again. She was gone.

Pele gazed at me quizzically. “Did you see her, Mama?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I did. Who is she?”

She just smiled at me. She pointed to the far right of the pond and I realized by its grooved walls that it was an ancient pool, one of many on our land. We’d worked on removing overgrown mangroves from most of them, but this one I’d never seen before.

I studied the petroglyphs etched into the stone. I couldn’t figure out what the message was, but prayed I would get it soon because the stone in my hand felt like fire. That was when Kimo pointed above the pond wall.

“Look, baby.” His tone was gentle. I saw the ghost of my mother. I didn’t have the affinity for her that Maluhia did because she’d abandoned me, leaving me to Tutu’s care when I was six years old. She was a ghost to me then, and she was to me now. If my sister were here she’d be hysterical since she’d been raised by Luka.

Luka. She nodded at me and I wanted to scream at her to explain what the fuck was going on, but she waved, pointing at the rock wall.

And then she vanished.

My daughter, duty done, took the stone out of my hand and started skipping back up the trail, her little tribe, and I assumed her ghostly companions, in tow.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked my husband, who took my hand and practically had to drag me back up the mountain.

“Well,” he said, “Even I have no clue.” He hugged and kissed me. “Wasn’t our baby fantastic?”

“She was. I wish she’d explain things to me though, Kimo. It’s sad to feel stupider than your toddler.”

When we arrived back at the top of the trail, my sister waited.

“You saw Mom? What did she say? Did she mention me?”

“She said nothing. She smiled and waved at me.” I couldn’t keep the tone of disgust out of my voice.

She nodded. “That’s what the kids told me. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Very,” I agreed.

My little girl ran to me, surprisingly wrapped in a towel. When she grew chilly, which was only when she worked magic, beach towels were her comfort zone.

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