Harold discovers that there are stories within stories and decides to go on a new adventure but learns that nothing is really ever what you can expect. The end of the beginning.
When he woke, he discovered that his companions had allowed him to rest for several hours. He stepped out of the bunkhouse found his shoes and set about looking at the world. He was glad to have the opportunity to wander around a bit freely.
The farm was a mixture of traditional agriculture with old-modern techniques and some things that he recognized as being uniquely of this time which he dubbed new-modern. A good example was the buildings themselves. The roofing material was a new-modern polymer - he couldn't identify it. It was something between plastic and ceramic. When he touched it, it felt cold and hard - like tile or slate but the texture was smooth and non-porous like the hard plastic used to make cars and phone bodies.
The walls of the houses, however, were in the old Hawaiian mode, these were made of the lauhala that the old folks had been working with in the shed - woven together into tight flat sheets. In ancient times, the Hawaiians had made their walls, the sails of their voyaging canoes, their flooring and much more from lauhala. The windows were glass and much of the decoration was similar to his own time with flowered cloth curtains and furniture that was generally so similar to that from his time that he didn't notice a difference.
As he made his way on the covered walkways between the hale (it made no sense to describe these houses with anything but 'hale' the Hawaiian word for house), Harold was surprised that he didn't encounter anyone. It was mid-day and there was no one about. He came to the stable and corral and saw that the horses were still there. He reached the hale where the kupuna had been working on the lauhala and saw their projects set aside as if they had left with the intention to come back to them.
He hadn't yet ventured to open doors or shout to see if he could find anyone, but there was a rising tide of panic within him. Anything could happen, after all, he had fallen asleep and awoken hundreds of years in the future. What if everyone had now disappeared?
His rational mind soothed the animal panic he felt and soon he had reasoned that waking in the future didn't necessarily equate with all the living people on the planet disappearing when he had a nap. He kept looking. The island village was far larger than he had at first thought and soon he abandoned the covered walkways of the complex he was staying in to venture across the sea of grass to another such complex. Still, there was no one.
Finally, he sat in the sun and closed his eyes only to have Klee shake him awake.
He was in the bunk where he had fallen asleep, it had only been a short while - perhaps a few minutes and now Evie was back to give them a tour of the farm. As the girl led them from hale to hale introducing them to her uncles and aunties, Harold was amazed that his subconscious mind had so accurately picked up the details upon their arrival to have given him such a dream. His mind had mapped out the complex and recreated it in his sleep.
He touched a roof tile and was astounded to experience an intense deja-vu - he hadn't touched it before, but it felt exactly like he had. His observations and his dream had put him in a funny mood. He saw everything that was presented to them - the kalo terraces, the people working in the lo'i, the aunties and uncles talking story, cooking, eating, playing music...but now he had a funny sense that simply wouldn't go away.
Now, he felt like the Chinese philosopher who said "Last night I dreamed I was a butterfly and now I don't know if I am a man who dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming that he is a man." Still, here he was.
They put on mud boots and waded out in the lo'i where Evie showed them how to expose the bottom portion of the quorm before gently placing it in the mud. This was a sacred process. Her mother waded out to where they were now working.
"We believe that the Kalo is our older brother and it is our job to take care of him. In turn, he feeds us and provides us with the things we need. This is the cycle. One leads to the other and back to the one." Evie's mother put the stalk of the taro into the mud and chanted "Ku’i i ka ‘ai, ku’i i ka ‘ai, ku’i i ka ‘ai pa’a ‘ai."
Gradually, the day came to feel like just a day and less like a dream, but the sound of Evie's mother's chant reverberated in Harold's head. It gave him a grounded sense of place and colored the way he saw everything - not just on the farm but everything he had seen and experienced since he had awoken here in the future.
The day was pleasurable and they worked together, learned together, laughed together. There were countless stories told - stories of dogs that ran off with important bones and stories of grandparents and great-grandparents and 2nd and 3rd-great-grandparents. These oral histories and connection from one to the other - from the past to the present with an unending chain of custody brought Harold to a place where he could almost feel the presence of the ancestors they spoke of. He might have actually known some of them - which was a strange thought, to think of himself and his life in the past tense.
"Do you write down all these stories?" he asked Evie, remembering that she wanted to be a writer.
"I do," she told him. "My mother says that I'm the family historian but I write down much more than just my family's stories. I'm going to write down your story too - the story of the man I gave a pen to."
"Oh, I really like that," Harold said. "Maybe you could write a story from the perspective of the pen itself. You could start with the pen being made and given to the ancestor of the man you got it from. Then you could follow the pen through the life and adventures of the people who carry it."
Evie loved this idea. She hugged him. "I knew that meeting you would help me to write a story. I love it. Mr. Haggins has some really interesting stories too. Thank you."
At first Harold thought she was referring to him. "I'm happy to share any stories with you, but honestly I think your stories are far more interesting than mine."
"Oh, I'm sure you have some amazing stories, but tomorrow, I'm going to go see Mr. Haggins again and I'm going to find out the history of your pen, he's the one who gave it to me. Would you guys like to come and meet him?"
Harold was ready to say yes, but Klee shook her head. "I'm afraid I've already scheduled my berth on a voyage back to Maui for tomorrow - so we are going to have to leave pretty early."
"What?" Harold was shocked by this. "You're leaving?"
Klee looked down at the ground, not something that was in her usual catalog of gestures. She looked up and met his eyes.
"I have been meaning to tell you, but the right time never came." Harold felt devastated. Suddenly, he realized just how quickly the feelings he had for Klee had blossomed into something very deep. He felt the loss but she was still there right in front of him.
One corner of her mouth was being tugged into a smile. She took his hands. "I did something...and you can say no if you want, I'm not trying to own you or tell you what you should do...okay?"
Harold was still trying to deal with the hurricane of feelings that were spinning inside of him. He wanted to be angry and sad and so many things but he maintained his composure, aware that all of those around him were watching. Somehow, he was soothed by the look of care in Klee's eyes. "What?" he asked. "What did you do?"
"I asked them to reserve an extra seat for you. I know that you probably have an agenda and things that you want to do - so it's not a problem if you say no, but ... and please, I'm not trying to manipulate you in any way... but ...this time with you has been...wonderful and I don't want it to end. I'm needed back on Maui - I really have to go back tomorrow - but I would really love it if you would come with me...so we can spend some time exploring what exactly this is between us."
This strong, powerful, beautiful, ancient woman in front of him looked vulnerable as she pled her case to him. There was nothing Harold could do - in that moment - with a half dozen people around them, listening to them, witnessing this moment with them - Harold saw nothing but Klee.
"Of course I'll go with you," he said and she was in his arms. The world melted away and there was nothing but the two of them in that moment.
"I'm definitely going to write this story," Evie said.