See Before You Die: Hawaii

By J.E. Leigh

At a crossroads in her career, adventure traveler Aurora Night questions her sanity when an ancient Hawaiian legend comes alive, forcing her to face life’s greatest mysteries: death, birth, love, and sacrifice. To prevail, Aurora must seize change by the hand before someone she loves is lost forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.E. Leigh
• Release date: Jul 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005675202

J.E. Leigh

J.E. Leigh became a mom at age 35 so the doctors called her "elderly gravida". She didn’t become a writer until this ‘late’ time of life, so she also considers herself "elderly writera". Leigh’s background is in Geography, Sense of Place, and Nature Interpretation. She writes a blog (seetravelmag.com) and has worked as a writer/editor for publications on parks, protected areas, and cultural sites. Her adventure novels are set in exotic places like Costa Rica, Patagonia, Hawaii, Germany, Slovenia, and New Mexico (yes, people think it’s a foreign country). She lives in Colorado with her husband, son and two dogs.

Book preview

See Before You Die: Hawaii

By J.E. Leigh

Copyright 2014 J.E. Leigh

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. All locales, businesses, characters, events, and dialogue depicted in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

To prevent errors in the conversion of this book to multiple formats, diacritical marks are removed from Hawaiian words. Includes excerpt from Unwritten Literature of Hawaii, The Sacred Songs of the Hula (A Public Domain Book) by Nathaniel Bright Emerson.

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Dawn in Patagonia

Titles in the See! Series

About J.E. Leigh

Chapter 1

I was conceived in Hawaii.

I know — that’s 511, TMI, Too Much Information. But it explains why I was standing in the middle of the Hilo Airport on the Big Island, wearing a T-shirt that said Made in Hawaii.

My dad thought it was a great joke to buy me that shirt. I wanted to be a good daughter, so I figured I would wear the shirt for a couple of hours on the plane, then conveniently spill coffee on it and change out of it as soon as we reached Kauai. Nobody would have to see it.

The shirt was hot pink with purple-glitter lettering. I think it was designed for a ten-year-old, because the words, Made in Hawaii, stretched across my less-than-substantial bosom and the dot on the last ‘i’ sat in an inconvenient spot. But, hey — everyone dresses crazy in airports, right? I figured I could get by without being noticed.

That is . . . until the nice TSA-man at Security asked me to step out of line.

To understand the events that follow, you should know a couple of things. First, my father is ex-military and feels naked unless he has a few weapons at his disposal. Second, when we were packing our bags that morning, my dad tossed me a nylon zip-sack that was about the size of a chocolate bar. He said he didn’t have room to put the sack in his checked bag — could I fit it in mine?

It was five in the morning. I was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and lack of coffee. My suitcase was already zipped, so I shoved the sack into my carry-on. Then I forgot all about it.

Until now.

What seems to be the problem, officer?

Step this way, ma’am, TSA-man said.

Oh, no. He called me ma’am. Nobody calls a twenty-nine-year-old woman wearing a too-tight, hot-pink and purple-glitter T-shirt ma’am. This can’t be good.

TSA-man took my carry-on bag away from me and whumped it down on top of a spotless, mirror-shiny table. He unzipped the bag and the overstuffed contents belched onto the immaculate surface. He snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves as though preparing to give me a rectal exam.

My morning coffee and donut kicked in. I realized what this was about.

The nice TSA-man picked up the offending sack. He dangled it before me between his blue-gloved thumb and index finger.

Look— I said. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was in there. Just let me go back. I’ll check the whole bag. I can do without it. The flight’s short and . . .

TSA-man gingerly laid the sack in a steel surgical tray and set it aside. He returned his attention to my bag.

Everything else is okay — I promise. My dad gave me that sack, my suitcase was full, so I stuck it in here and . . .

You agreed to carry something on board that wasn’t packed by you?

I, uh . . .

Mr. TSA-man wasn’t so nice anymore.

Yeah, but — it was my dad . . .

You’re right, ma’am. No one’s dad has ever been a terrorist.

Oh, for crying out loud. He’s a Vietnam Vet.

TSA-man picked up a garment of clothing and held it before his face.

Oh, jeez, I said. That’s yesterday’s underwear. Put that down! A surreptitious look around the airport showed me that people were starting to stare.

The mean TSA-man extracted another item.

What’re you trying to do to me? That’s a tampon.

I know what it is, ma’am.

Will you stop calling me ma’am?

No ma’am. He pulled out my requisite quart-size plastic bag and peeled open the zipper. This item is over the size limit for liquids. He held up a tiny bottle.

What? That’s a travel size.

It’s 3.5 ounces, ma’am. The limit is 3.4 ounces.

I used some of it.

He pitched the bottle into a trash can.

Hey — my sister bought me that for my birthday. It cost 45 dollars. I can’t afford that on my salary.

You should have thought of that, ma’am, before you tried to smuggle a knife on board the plane.

All five lanes of people stopped and stared.

Just kill me now.

* * *

Two hours later, we landed in Kauai. I had managed to escape the Hilo airport without getting arrested. But much to my dad’s consternation, I had lost his favorite knife.

I stepped into Baggage Claim and gawked at the row of carousels. Which one was for our flight? I searched the arrival screen. I needed to find out which number . . .

A man rushed at me. He raised his hands high in the air and grabbed for my head. I tried to duck away.

But I wasn’t fast enough.

He dropped something over my head and pulled it around my neck. A blinding light exploded in my face.

Glancing down in shock, I discovered a garland of fresh flowers draped over my chest. I stared at the pungent blooms. A lei? I asked. You really do that?

Sure, the man said. If someone forks over enough cash. He handed me a little envelope, then turned to the guy with the blinding flash. You get it?

Yup.

Great, the first man said. Let’s email this to Mr. Day. I’ve got a mai-tai on the lanai with my name on it.

Wait a minute, I said. Did you say Day? Rion Day?

The man lifted a clipboard and scanned its surface. Don’t have a first name, he said. Might want to read the note.

I tore into the envelope and pulled out the card:

See Before You Die is just a phrase.

Stay safe.

Love, Rion

The note was even more astonishing than the lei. Why did Rion say that? What could he possibly mean?

Why that word? Love.

What kind of love did he mean? Was it the catch-ya-later, best-wishes, ta-ta-for-now kind of love?

Or was it LOVE?

I looked helplessly at the two men who delivered the lei. They were trying to leave. Stop! I said. What are you emailing to Rion? Not a picture?

Yup. The guy who had exploded the flash in my face spun the back of his camera towards me. I looked at the digital display. The picture showed me with my mouth open, the lei halfway over my head, and the purple-glitter letters on my shirt blazing from the flash. The dot on the last ‘i’ in Made in Hawaii shone like a perky diamond. Adding to the effect was a coffee stain on the pointy tip of the M.

That’s terrible! I shrieked. How much to delete that picture? I fumbled madly for my wallet.

The men exchanged a tempted look, then one of them said, Sorry, lady. This might not be much of a job, but it’s what we’ve got. They trotted away.

As they rounded the corner, I saw them zooming in on the Made in Hawaii part of the photo. Their hoots of laughter faded into the distance.

My dad saw the whole thing. So— he said, rocking back on his heels, my daughter got lei’d by her boss.

Dad!

You get it? Lei’d?

No, Dad. I don’t get it. That’s only like the oldest joke in the book.

I’m not sure how I feel about your boss lei’ing you. Right in front of me, no less. Might need to have a talk with that boy.

Oh, no. No, you won’t.

The nearest baggage carousel began to grind and squeal. My dad elbowed his way through the throng of people that clustered around the conveyer.

I hardly noticed.

For I had drifted into a dream world. A world where I received beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers — flowers that came from an actual, warm-blooded man. A world where I held a card in my hand — a card that contained the word Love. Added to all of that, I was in Hawaii.

Did life get any better than that?

Chapter 2

This is a pubic place where friends can gather to have the time of their lives.

Are you kidding me? I snatched the electronic reader from my dad. We were standing in line at the car rental counter, waiting our turn. My dad had just downloaded the latest issue of See! Magazine. He was kind enough to point out a typo in the first line of my latest article.

Pubic? I cried. I did not write that!

What did you think would happen? He took the device away before I could smash it into pieces on the wall. "You know the program they use to convert See! to an electronic file still has bugs."

I sighed. He was right. I did know. In last month’s issue, the software changed a few of the words in my article from whistling through to whis-ding dirough. But this time it was worse, much worse.

It’s in the first paragraph. And it says pubic!

My dad pondered the article. "You should be more worried about the phrase the time of their lives. Only mediocre writers use clichés."

I growled. Why do they have to mess with a good thing anyway?

See! Magazine had been in the middle of an upheaval for the past several months. New management had come in and restructured the whole company. Even Rion Day, my boss, was new. He had been hired as the Managing Editor. One of the first things he did was hint that my job might be in jeopardy. I hadn’t been fired yet, but my international travel had ceased and I was reduced to writing local interest pieces. That’s why this trip to Hawaii was so exciting.

It felt like traveling abroad.

The other big change taking place was the conversion of See! from print to digital. Call me old-fashioned, but this change was the one I was having the most trouble accepting. I knew the electronic version was more environmentally friendly, but what about my collection?

The first time I published an article, I carried the magazine around my house for two whole days. I loved the weight of the pages in my hands. I loved the glossy feel of the paper and the way the pictures looked in the light of different rooms.

The digital version just didn’t seem real. I wouldn’t be able to place the new issues on my bookshelf with the other magazines I had collected since I started working for See!. I knew this was selfish, but a woman has to have priorities.

Pubic? It really says pubic? What am I going to do?

Don’t worry about it. My dad shut off the device. Your article will be that much more memorable.

I had made a complete fool of myself. I would be the laughing-stock of the travel writing world. Editors would quote my words for years to come as an example of what not to do. My career was finished. At least with a print edition, the magazine would end up in the recycle bin. In the digital world, something like this could last forever.

Ugh.

Did life get any worse than that?

* * *

Of course it did.

But this particular adventure started out like any other road trip with my dad. He slid into the driver’s side of the rental car and lounged in the front seat with the door wide open. He waited until the dashboard chimed. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding. Then he gripped the steering wheel and shouted, Accelerate to attack speed!

Dad . . . My head started to hurt. Shut the door.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

Dad.

ACCELERATE TO ATTACK SPEED!

Really? You have to do this even in a rental car?

Red alert!!

"We’re on the Garden Island, it’s a gorgeous day, and you want to play Star Nerds?

RED ALERT!

Yes, I can see the red light flashing. That’s because you have to SHUT — THE — CAR — DOOR.

I need more power!

You’re not going to leave the airport parking lot until I play along, are you?

Ding, ding, ding.

I’m an adult now, Dad. I’m too old for this.

Ding, ding.

"FINE!!!!! I’m givin’ her all she’s got, cap’n. There! Now can we please go?"

I sense a disturbance in the force.

I’ll disturb your force, all right.

I am your father.

Okay, Darth Vader . . . DRIVE THE CAR! And don’t run over that chicken.

Needless to say, my dad had a Sci-Fi obsession.

He loved Star Wars and Star Trek and pretty much anything with hot women in space suits. I had to admit, I shared the same obsession. Except for the hot women in space suits part. Me, I was more of a Firefly girl. I had a thing for Captain Tight Pants.

How did growing up with a sci-fi dad affect me?

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a Big damn hero. I wanted to Feel the force and Boldly go where no one has gone before. I wanted to travel at light speed or warp speed or whatever speed it took to see brave new worlds.

More importantly . . .

I believed I could.

But when I grew up and discovered intergalactic space travel was unaffordable . . . and, oh yeah, not possible . . . I substituted travel of the terrestrial variety.

I suppose it began with those childhood road trips with my dad. We never had a lot of money, so we didn’t fly to exotic lands. Like old episodes of Star Trek, we filmed our faraway stories in nearby places. We climbed into my dad’s pickup truck and went to the desert where we searched for arrowheads and bits of pottery until a rattlesnake sent me screeching back to the truck.

Over the years, I ventured a little farther and along the way I learned a few things. Go