The Lost Christmas Episode, Part 3

JuJu had never seen anything like it. He had been intimate with many women. In fact, besides surfing, buck-naked romps in the sack were his main hobby. But in all of those intimate moments he had never shared anything with a woman that came close to this.

Rain pounded the roof of the trailer. Wind shook its trembling sides. A shiny band of water glistened as it seeped in the front door.

None of that could matter now, to JuJu or to Noelani. Her plump kitten face taut with straining, Noelani rose up on her elbows and bore down. The crown of the baby's head grew larger.

JuJu rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Push, baby, push, keep pushing!" he urged.

She drew in a deep breath and pushed again, her teeth gritted, roaring with the pain. The baby's head emerged, plain as day, into JuJu's outstretched hands.

There was no more time to be scared or squeamish. "One more time, sweetheart, one more time!" Hot and slippery, the baby's shoulders emerged, then the whole body, long and skinny, right down to perfect feet. It was a tiny little boy.

JuJu used a soft, ragged towel to wipe the baby's face. Remembering his first aid, he quickly covered the baby's mouth and nose with his mouth to start the child breathing. To JuJu's amazement, the baby gave a surprised stuttering cry, then a thin but vigorous protest.

Noelani wept with joy as Julian Kala'oka gently moistened the towel and wiped the boy as clean as he could.

"It's a boy, Noelani. He seems really healthy. He seems really great."

"Oh, thank you, God," Noelani said, lying back a little. "Julian, God must have sent you here today, just in time. A paramedic angel."

"Yeah," JuJu said. He was trying to remember what he had heard about cutting the cord. It was thick, tough, and slippery, and all he knew was that he was supposed to cut it, or something bad would happen, he wasn't sure what. Trying to look as if he knew what he was doing, JuJu unraveled one of the towels and used the strands to tie the cord tightly in two places. His big fingers slipped clumsily. Manny was so small and helpless, but JuJu felt he needed at least two more pairs of hands to hold him. And he must be getting cold. Had to get him wrapped up.

JuJu used his pocket knife to cut the cord. Blood seeped out, and JuJu felt panic rise in his gorge. The child would bleed to death! He didn't know what to do. He watched the cord intently, praying that the tiny tourniquet would hold. After a minute, he felt a little calmer. There was no more blood. Maybe Manny was OK after all.

"Wish I could do better by you, little guy," JuJu whispered. His voice sounded trembly, even to himself. "The real doctor will be here soon, I promise."

"Give me the blanket," Noelani said. "I'll wrap him up."

JuJu spread one of the thicker towels in her arms and carefully placed Manny's warm wiggling body into her arms. Her eyes were surrounded by dark circles, her young face covered with a thin sheen of sweat, her swollen body half-naked and exposed. But JuJu no longer saw. All he saw was her loving smile and her big brown eyes, filled with concern and concentration. All he saw was the dignity of a mother.

"Welcome to the world, mama's little baby," Noelani murmured to the infant. "Everyone loves you already."

JuJu sat back on the floor. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. So this was how it was.

***

Reverend Akaka didn't need to be persuaded. "Eddie, that's a great idea. We'll give our concert anyway."

Laughing and shoving, the choir kids helped each other pull their gleaming gold robes over their heads. Duke heard one girl say, "This is gonna be lame. It won't sound good with just a few of us."

Eddie said, "It won't be lame. It'll sound good to God."

With the other parents, Duke moved up to the front row. Somehow, it felt right to him to sit at the feet of the children tonight.

Reverend Akaka got up and bowed to the parents gazing up from the front row. "Welcome to the Kawaihao Church youth Christmas concert. Let us pray."

Duke bowed his head and pressed his hands together. The Reverend spoke for them in Hawaiian and English, praising Him for keeping them safe, praying for those who were out in the storm. He prayed for their families and he prayed for those who were alone and friendless. He prayed in the name of the baby Kristo -- Jesus Christ -- that his message of unconditional love would light the hopes and dreams of all mankind.

"Amen."

"Amen," Duke murmured.

"OK, kids," Reverend Akaka slid behind the organ. "I'm a little rusty, but we're doing the best we can, right? For Akua! Let's sing!"

The arrangements were ragged but the voices were lovely. Duke knew these were ordinary children, with all of the surliness, uncertainties, and mischievousness of adolescence. But tonight, they sounded like angels.

Even so, he wasn't prepared for Eddie's solo. Duke had heard him rehearsing the song in his room. He had heard Eddie straining over and over for control over the high notes, then struggling to bring his voice back into the deeper registers.

He knew much Eddie wanted his solo to blow everyone out of their seats, right to the back of the balcony. He knew, because he had been fourteen once himself. In his case, he had wanted nothing more in all the world than to run across the goal line for a touchdown, with a whole crowd of people, including of course his father, on their feet, screaming and stamping their feet. That dream had driven him for years, driven him into manhood. Duke knew, whether Eddie knew it yet or not, that Eddie was becoming a man, and a man craved success.

Duke felt his muscles tense up when Eddie stepped forward for his solo. He wanted this for Eddie so much. He wanted it to be spectacular, even if hardly anyone was there to hear it. "Belt it out, son," Duke whispered to himself.

But Eddie confounded him. He didn't belt it out. He raised his round face and began to sing very quietly, in his pure, high voice. His son had turned the show-stopper into a lullaby. All of the parents had to learn forward in their seats to catch the words as they floated past them up to the vaulted roof of the chapel. Eddie's solo would bring him no glory, no praise, no prize. Instead, it was a gift, just for them -- a sweet song to rock a child to sleep, to soothe a sick soul, to comfort the lonely. To praise God.

Po hemolele ke oli no nei na hoku Ia po i hanau ai ka Ho`ola

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining, It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

The rain streamed over the roof of the churches and a roll of thunder rumbled through downtown from the mountains out to the sea. With a blare, the sirens careered by outside, on their way to some emergency. Duke wasn't distracted at all. His ears were full, listening to his son.

***

Ted Hada pulled into the parking lot of Tripler Army Medical Center. It was almost empty. A few staff cars were still there. Even on Christmas Eve, even in a rainstorm, the caregivers had to work. But for the most part, the hard illumination from the streetlight had only the pelting raindrops to light up.

Lifting the collar of his raincoat, Hada ran into the double doors of the hospital. A lone attendant was on duty. A skinny Christmas tree blinked on and off dutifully.

Hada told the attendant his purpose, and the man directed him to the fourth floor. Hada took off his raincoat and carefully put it over his arm, then took the elevator upstairs.

The elevator doors opened on a quiet hallway. The paper Santas and reindeer on the walls seemed out of place in the antiseptic environment. Hada stepped out and went into the first room he came to.

A young man with a blond bush haircut lay very still under a sheet and light blanket. His right arm was wrapped in gauze and bandages. The hand was mangled -- Hada couldn't tell how badly. The right side of his face was unbandaged but scabbed over. He looked at Hada with indifference.

"Mind if I come in?" Hada asked.

"Suit yourself," the kid said, in a soft southern accent.

Hada walked in and laid his raincoat across the arm of the chair. Then he stuck out his left hand.

The kid blinked in surprise, then took Hada's hand and shook it. "Who are you?"

"A veteran," Hada replied. "Thirty-Fourth Division."

The young man sat up a little. "A Red Bull, huh?"

"You bet your ass," Hada pulled up the chair and sat down. "How about you?"

And the young man started to talk. And Ted Hada listened.

Loa ke ao me na hewa na lu`ulu`u Ka waiho ea mai a `olu ka `uhane

Long lay the world in sin and error pining, Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth

***

"I don't really drink," McGarrett told Deford, placing two clean coffee cups on the boss's desk.

"Humor me, then," Deford said. He poured the brandy, two fingers for himself and one finger for McGarrett. Then he raised the mug and offered a toast to McGarrett.

McGarrett smiled and raised his own mug.

"To a good year. And a good cop. Merry Christmas, Steve," Deford said.

Steve blinked his eyes. He hated sentimentality. "Merry Christmas, Lloyd," he said gruffly.

They clinked their glasses together. Deford took a swallow, McGarrett a sip that burned all the way down.

"And," Deford said suddenly, "To nailing Benny Kahuni!"

Steve clinked his glass to Deford's again. "I'll drink to that."

Hau`oli e na luhi mana`olana Poha nuhou ka wena o ka la

A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices, For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

***

When JuJu checked his watch, he saw that it had been less than an hour since he had knocked on the fragile door of Noelani's trailer. It seemed like a lifetime. Then, he reminded himself that it was a lifetime -- at least, a lifetime for little Manny.

The paramedics were there now, putting drops in the baby's eyes, recutting the cord with real medical instruments, cleaning Noelani and giving her some fluids, helping her on to a stretcher to transport her to Queen's. She didn't need JuJu anymore. JuJu knew it was time he went on. There was a lot more that needed to be done to help folks out in this storm. But somehow, he felt reluctant to leave.

Amidst all the attention she was getting, Noelani motioned him over. "Julian? You're not really a paramedic, are you?"

JuJu shook his head. "Naw. Just a dumb cop."

"You helped me when it counted. I'm gonna tell Manny about you when he gets big enough. I can't wait to tell him about the night he was born." She squeezed JuJu's hand. "Do you think this means he's going to have a stormy life?"

JuJu grinned. "Maybe." He bent over the stretcher and hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. "Good luck, Noelani. Good luck, Manny."

JuJu watched a bit longer as the paramedics took the mother and child down the muddy yard, shielding her as best they could from the rain that still fell on the valley.

But it was falling more softly now, and soon it would be over. JuJu had lived through enough storms to feel it in his bones. The water would run its race through the streets of Kalihi, and then the people would come back, and by that time, it would be Christmas Day.

Pelu na kuli, ho`olohe i na leo `anela Ka po kamaha`o i hanau ai `o Kristo

Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices, O night divine, o night when Christ was born

O night divine, o night when Christ was born!

PAU