His fist clenched as he exhaled slowly. He sat up in a motion that was more like rolling his eyes with his entire neck, and I bit my lip to refrain from laughing at the lunacy of it as he pushed himself to his feet to switch sides with me.
“Ready?” I asked again, burrowing my bottom into his vacated bench seat with a little wiggle.
Chin in the back of his fist, he twitched a glare at the water and didn’t answer.
I dipped the oars in, and we were off.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I showed off a little. Every Leihaniian is a strong rower. You have to be, growing up on a tiny island surrounded by tropical water with fish as your main source of food.
But I cut through the waves like a curse word thrown at an enemy, fast and sharp. The sea reeled in my wake—of course, the sea and I understood each other. In a strange way, the sea was my friend. Not the way that Nori and Olinne were my friends. Nor that it spoke to me in words or stories, though sometimes it felt like it did.
The sea and I simply understood one another.
I knew its moods. The ebb and flow of indecision, the thrashing rage of high tide, the undercurrent of jealousy. I knew its voice, the crash of its screams or the thrum of its lullabies. I knew when it welcomed company, or when it needed a minute to calm.
I loved the sea the way only a sailor would. Not that I would compare myself to one. Entitled, boorish, drunken, pathetic—
“This isn’t the pier.” He raised his head as I curved the boat toward my father’s house.
The harbor sat in the distance, plainly in view from my private beach. One trading ship sat anchored, waving the Calderian flag, a cluster of smaller island outriggers surrounding them.
“This is where I live. I have to get my father.” Maneuvering his bulky paddles through the seaweed, I glanced up to find him studying the beach as if he found each article highly offensive. The house up the grassy hill, the old logs that served as benches. My father’s overturnedva’a, disassembled nets in buckets.
Before he could move, I splashed into the water and began pulling the boat up the sand. He started upright, obviously intending to help, but I’d anchored it before he even fully rose tohis feet. The Calderian shot me a glare and settled back into the wall of the boat, turning to face the water.
Something inside of me nestled smugly in my stomach, and I turned to run up the path to my house, taking the steps two at a time.
“Makua.” My father, Ano, sat with my aunt, Palunu, both cross-legged with a drink in their hands. Next to them, my uncle, Naheso, perched on our log-bench mid-sentence, waving his arms as he gestured through a story. At my tone, my father glanced up, eyebrows high on his forehead.
I hadn’t expected my aunt and uncle to be here. Unease dripped in, and I shifted my body onto the bamboo railing. “I found a man in a rowboat. He’s sunburnt; he needs help,” I said, avoiding my aunt’s eyes, which widened with curiosity.
Strangers washing ashore wasn’t a common occurrence. The Calderian’s presence would undoubtedly spread within the island as a subject of gossip—along with who had found him.
Ano stood, knees popping, and followed me back down the trail. My father was a big man, and he wore tattoos like armor over his shoulders and arms. Broad-chested, the center of his stomach had only recently begun to soften with age, though plenty of the island women still watched him when they thought I wasn’t looking.
My aunt and Naheso came, too, though they lagged behind, curious about who I may have discovered. Kye was bent forward in his rowboat, looking every bit like a red, raw corpse.
At the sight of the man, my father swore under his breath. “Makua Ahi, Maren, this boy needs a doctor. Why did you stop here?”
Avoiding my aunt’s incredulous gaze, my voice dropped to a murmur.“Because, Makua, Ican't be the one who brings him into the village.”
Meeting my eyes in reluctant understanding, my father sighed, tromping through the grass toward the rowboat. I stood by the water’s edge, listening to the smooth rumble of my father’s voice from down the hill as he greeted the stranger. Kye glanced over his shoulder at me, frowning, and I held up my hand, offering a small wave goodbye.
Hopefully, he’d make it home safely.
My aunt watched from the pathway, arms crossed, her face wrinkled in distaste. She aimed her dark irises at me, lowering her chin into her ample chest. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing,Anake,”I answered, watching the rowboat as it shrank around the shoreline. I wondered if I’d be able to see it from the height of my veranda.
My aunt followed me back up the pathway, my uncle in tow. “Your mother also had a habit of luring men into the water. She met her end when she made the sea angry. If you're not careful, you will too.”
“She did not. Neither will I.” I pursed my lips, numb to the insinuation I’d grown up hearing. “He’d been rowing for almost three days. He came from Calder.”
“Calder,” my aunt said in surprise, pausing to consider the distance. “Are you sure? He's not a sailor? He didn't fall off a ship?”
“That's what he said.”
“To Neris Island, of all places. The island none of us will visit out of respect for Nahli, yet you’ve made it your second home.”
