Jeannine Johnson knew how the story ended, but she still looked forward anxiously to each installment.

In 2000, Johnson started transcribing letters her mother had written when she first moved to Hawai'i from St. Paul, Minn., in 1951. Lita Van Hoven was 34 when she arrived on the Lurline with her friend, her car and a heavy heart. She was considered an "old maid" back then. She came to Hawai'i for a change of scenery and to find a bit of happiness after losing her mother to cancer. It was supposed to be a short stay, no more than a year.

She was always a prolific and descriptive letter writer, and because she worked as a secretary, a very organized letter writer. Lita Van Hoven kept a box of carbon copies of all the letters she sent.

The collection, known by her family as "Lita's Letters," told an amazing tale of an adventurous woman traveling to a faraway land and falling deeply in love with Hawai'i and with a particular Hawaiian. Each installment is a lively chapter about the things she saw and did, a thoughtful essay about cultural differences, race relations and matters of the heart. All along, she tells friends and family back home that she will be returning soon, but at the same time, she subtly prepares them, and herself, for the truth: She will never leave.

"Our first evening here, Viv and a couple of her girlfriends and we went out to dinner at Trader Vic's — very beautiful and tropical. The kids know the Hawaiian band which was out of this world. They had told them it was my birthday so they sang happy birthday and dedicated some numbers to us so it was a very exciting birthday. The usual happened — we met a fellow who just flew in that day after spending a year on a far-away island with atomic energy so girls were his specialty at the moment. Later on he took us to another spot — Queen's Surf — where dancing and tables are all out under the stars. It was the most gorgeous spectacle we had witnessed till then. They say in settings like that you could fall in love with a tree and I can believe it."

Lita wrote about all the friends of different races she met in Hawai'i. She wrote about her job at the Dairymens Association. She wrote about current events, like the shipping strike, described things she experienced, like canoe club races, a Filipino wedding reception, and having to make reservations to get seats at the Waikiki movie theaters.

And then, she prepared the folks back home for John Apo, "my gorgeous Hawaiian boyfriend," as she called him. John grew up in Miloli'i on the Big Island. He was dark and handsome and quiet compared to Lita's outgoing nature. He took her home to his fishing village to meet his family and she wrote the folks back home about what she saw:

"John's family has a huge amount of property and it's right on the ocean shore, so the setting is lovely though their house and sheds are very old. Honestly, it was like going back a hundred years — no electricity (just gas lanterns) and everywhere on the island water has to be used very conservatively. Each home has its own tank to catch rainwater and that's used for cooking, drinking, etc."

"His mother had a big meal prepared, so we ate again, fried fish and poi (poi at his home is eaten out of one big bowl in the center of the table and everyone reaches in with their finger or fork)."

Lita and John's romance went through many twists and turns. Two people from such different backgrounds had more than personality quirks to work through in those days. It was a bit like "South Pacific," and Lita wrote about washing that man out of her hair a number of times. But they always got back together.

"... I feel I have to make up my mind before next summer rolls around, which is when I originally planned to go home. I know that's the only way I will also give everyone a chance to throw their million reasons at me for not marrying a Hawaiian and settling in Hawai'i ... for every reason you can give me for not marrying him, I can give you one why I should."

Of course, Jeannine knew the ending of the story as she carefully transcribed each letter from the fragile onion skin carbon paper to a computer file. Her parents got married, had two girls and lived in East Honolulu for 40 years. Their honeymoon was in Miloli'i, "where everything was ol-time Hawaii," Lita wrote. "Net fishing at night, opihi picking on the rocks, opelu fishing by day, lots of animals, good meals prepared by Mama and, of course, an outhouse."

Jeannine knew the story, but the way it unfolded in her mother's candid, colorful narrative kept her rapt for the three weeks it took to retype each letter.

Lita Apo died in 2004, 10 years after her husband, John. Her children and their children kept her Niu Valley home. Jeannine says people have encouraged her to have Lita's letters published, but she's not sure about that. Perhaps as part of a larger collection of other people's recollections of 1950s Hawai'i, she says.

For Lita Van Hoven Apo's children, her grandchildren and now the great-grandchildren that are starting to arrive, the letters tell of the grand adventure a Minnesota girl found coming to Hawai'i and how they all came to be. These are stories that will be passed down verbatim and in brilliant detail, because Lita wrote them that way.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.