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Chapter Ten - Let the Music Heal Your Soul

It was the oddest sound I heard ever heard in my entire life. I couldn't place it, but it was loud and drifting down from the hatch I had left open a crack to get some fresh air. My eyes were crusted over with sleep and protested as I opened them quickly.

I had ripped off my shirt in the middle of the night. I emerged out onto the sunny deck shirtless, squinting at the sun. I didn't know what time it was, but it looked like it was going on noon.

Had I really slept that long?

I turned my head to the right and narrowed in on the culprit of the sound. Rosie lowered the small ukulele she was attempting to play one-handed, and lifted her hand in greeting.

"Good morning-almost-afternoon!" she said with pep.

"What," I groaned. "are you doing here again?"

"Joshua's still taking my place," she explained.

"Don't you have any friends you can go visit?" I asked. I pulled myself all the way up on deck and sat a few feet from her.

"I have tons of friends but they all have jobs," she said in the easy manner I had grown accustomed to associating with her. "I thought I'd come give you a wake-up call."

"The ukulele, huh?" I asked. She nodded.

"Do you play?"

"Not that," I said.

"What then?"

"Guitar. Drums."

"So you like music," she concluded. "I was worried since you didn't seem to like the radio last ni--"

"It was the song, not the radio," I interrupted her. She placed the ukelele in her lap and plucked at a string; the note floated out over the water.

"You don't like Journey?"

"I love Journey."

"But that was--"

"That song held too many memories."

The wine was long gone, but it was like hse had found the key to my tongue. I bit the inside of my cheek, cursing myself silently.

"That was your song wasn't I?" she realized. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've heard couples can get attached to one song like that."

"Haven't you ever had a song?" I asked. Rosie giggled.

"The only song I've ever had was Cracklin' Rosie by Neil Diamond," she joked. She tilted her head up and studied the clouds. "I've never attached a song to another person. I haven't loved anyone that much to do that."

"Well, when you're older I'm sure that'll change," I said. She turned her head and our eyes met.

"You talk like an old man."

"I'm ten years older than you."

"So? Don't tell me thirty four is ancient. Grandma Kalani is about a hundred and isn't as mopey as you."

"Who's Grandma Kalani?"

"She's only the oldest person on the island," Rosie said. "You should come met her. She makes this amazing bread and--"

"That's okay," I said quickly. "I have some things to do today. Thanks for waking me up. I overslept."

"You look better today," she agreed. "But I don't think you really have anything to do today."

I narrowed my eyes. "How would you know?"

She was wearing a pair of dark green cargo pants with a million little loops and buckles. She jangled as she stood up and tucked the ukulele under her armpit. I noticed she had traded in the bright green flip flops for some slid-on tennis shoes. "Call it a hunch. Come with me," she repeated.

"I can't just go visit someone I don't know," I argue. "The moment you say aloha, you'll be friends for life."

She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers.

"I haven't washed up yet," I argued.

"Then go get washed up!" Rosie exclaimed. She bounced from leg to leg.

It had only been two short days, but I already realized that she was like a bee and I was like a flower. She wasn't about to leave me until she had sucked all the pollen out.

Whatever that means.

I ducked below deck and spent a few minutes washing up. Just from the short time I was talking to her, I could tell the day was going to be warm. I pulled out a white tanktop and some cargo shorts and hauled myself back up.

"Where does this Grandma Moses live?" I asked as we both climbed off the boat.

"Grandma Kalani," Rosie corrected. Not far.

'Not far' was an understatement of monolithic proportions. We started off at a brisk walk down a fairly well-traveled path, the sun beating down heavily on the tops of our fair heads. After about a half hour, the path ended and we started trapezing over jagged rocks.

"Should you be doing this with your arm?" I asked, desperate to turn back around.

"I go here at least once a week!" she called out from in front of me. "This isn't so bad!"

When she jumped and almost completely disappeared, I about had a heart attack. It wasn't until I got to the edge that I realized there was a rock formation that doubled as a staircase. I jumped down several at a time until I landed on a sandy patch right next to her.

"Right up ahead!" she sang.

Directly in front of us, about a hundred feet ahead was an old shack. It looked like it had been badly weather-beaten, but yet it still stood erect. Rosie skipped in front of me. She tapped on the door and then slid the ukulele out from under her arm.

"Come in!" a shaky voice called.

Rosie winked at me and disappeared into the hut. I hesitated a moment but pushed the door open and slid on through.

Even though the outside was worn, the inside was neat and tidy. Clean windows let in the sunlight, brightening up the whole interior of the one room house.

Grandma Kalani sat in a rocking chair in the corner. She had a light blanket thrown over her legs and was stroking the back of a gray cat. The cat looked up and meowed its greeting.

"Rosalyn, you brought a visitor," the old lady stated. She held out her free hand. Rosie set the ukulele down and clasped the wrinkled hand in her own smooth one. She turned and smiled brillantly at me.

"Kalani, this is Nick. Nick, this is Grandma Kalani."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said. Rosie let go of her hand and I took it. The old lady smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"What a firm handshake," she chuckled. As quickly as it had formed, the smile disappeared. "A firm handshake for such a wounded bird."

She clicked her tongue. I felt chilled. "A wounded bird," I repeated.

"You--you--" she punctuated, her finger pointing at me. "You're the wounded bird. And such a contradiction too. How anyone could be so cold when you are with pure sunshine." her finger turned to point at Rosie. Rosie laughed.

"You only see me on my sunshine days," she teased. "I brought my ukulele."

"Ah, I've been wanting to play," Kalani said. Rosie handed over the instrument. The old lady's hand left the cat and she grasped it with firm knowledge. I felt a small hand on the back of my pants. I turned. Rosie sat down and motioned for me to do the same.

For the next twenty minutes, I was entranced at the old lady's playing. It seemed like she covered every emotion with the touch of the strings. In the beginning, it emulated the aching sadness I knew so well. As the song wound around, I felt something I hadn't felt in forever.

Happiness. I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my lips. I turned and looked at Rosie, curious to see if she was feeling it too. Her eyes were sparkling. She nodded and clasped my knee. I placed my hand over hers. Kalani looked at both of us and then slowly tilted her head back. She began to sing in Hawaiian. I didn't understand the words, but it touched me all the same. It wasn't a sad song. It wasn't a love song. I recognized what it was, even though I wasn't sure if I could fully take it in.

It was the music of hope.