Layla and Minnow
Minnow read the letter again and again, as though she might be able to absorb her mother by osmosis. The love Layla had felt for her oozed off the page. Humbling. All-encompassing. Immense and bright as an exploding star.
But what of a Hawaiian middle name? All her life, Minnow only had one middle name: Sofia. So what had happened? Did he ever send one? Surely he would have said something about it. Or maybe not. Cliff operated by a different set of rules. Unpredictable and unknowable.
A while later, when she slid the card back in the envelope, it caught on something. A small piece of folded paper. She pulled it out. On it were the words:
Ka‘ahupahau. Shark goddess. Guardian to the entrance of Pearl Harbor. I believe she will live up to this name.
Beneath that he had written:
What I never sent your mother but should have. You live up to it.
Aloha, CK
At that moment the plane shuddered, rocking and bucking and creaking through a patch of turbulence, as though the universe was trying to get her attention. As soon as they made it through, Minnow made a promise to return to Hawai‘i as soon as she could, to that rough and ragged stretch of coastline that would never let her go. And now, looking backward, she understood why.
Chapter 35
The Swimmer
Mana: supernatural or divine power; spiritual energy, universal life force
Carpinteria, California
A bright April sun reflected on the water and scattered down into the kelp. Minnow had been back now for over a month and in that time had christened her new boat,Luna,a used Boston Whaler Outrage 26. It was not much longer than a large white shark but was exactly what she needed. Solid, spacious, maneuverable. She’d also budgeted out half of Angela’s donation and would be using it for shark tags, cutting-edge underwater camera and video equipment, and a new computer with the latest software that would enable her to better manage all of her data. The rest of the funds she would save for the future, maybe even for research trips. To Guadalupe. Or Hawai?i.
The island was never far from her mind, even when she was sleeping. Her dreams were all over the place. From friendly run-ins with Hina, to thunderstorms that rained down baby sharks, to moonlight swims with Luke. Stupidly, she had thought that with the distance between them, her feelings might fade. In actuality the opposite had happened. She craved him in a way that slanted her whole world. They had fallen into the habit of having long and leisurely conversationsevery Sunday evening, catching up on their weeks. They talked about everything and nothing, and Minnow was content just to hear the sound of his voice. The one thing neither spoke of was the future.
It was too soon for that. Or was it? Minnow felt the pull to hop a plane back to Kona, but Luke sounded busy trying to find work that was meaningful to him. For now, to make ends meet, he had a gig at a new seahorse farm, raising seahorses. He was also still at George’s place on Hualalai, but he worried about overstaying his welcome. Part of her wanted to suggest he come to California for a while, but she knew he had to find his own way.
Today three undergrads from UC Santa Barbara were on the boat with her. Nothing formal, just an outing to count juvenile white sharks in waters off of Carpinteria. Pupping season was in full swing, and Minnow had always had this unyielding dream to see a newborn white shark—even though no one had ever seen one. There was always a first for everything. These girls were all marine biology majors but still early in their studies. None of them had ever been in the water with a white shark. Minnow almost envied them their first encounter.
They floated just outside the surf line, waiting and watching. The girls were all so eager and excited to be out there, and it brought Minnow back to her days in school, when everything was so fresh.
“What is the one thing you love most about white sharks?” asked Beverly, the quietly observant one.
“Just one thing?”
“Yes.”
Minnow thought for a while. “If I had to pick, it might be the power of their presence and how you can feel them even when you can’t see them. They really do activate some primal part of our brains, as though we were somehow wired together. Someday maybe we’ll discover that they have an energetic field. A big one.”
“Like an aura, you mean?” Bev asked.
“I guess you could call it that.”
Beck added, “My mom says horses have big auras, so why not white sharks?”
Why not indeed?
Over the next two hours they spotted two eight or nine footers cruising through a shallow, sandy spot just inside of them, fins cutting through the surface with their telltale triangular shape. The girls were mesmerized.
“Can we jump in and swim with them?” Shelly asked, as she hung half her body over the edge of the boat.
Beck nudged her. “Don’t be stupid. That’s how you get munched.”
Shelly pulled herself up and looked to Minnow. “Would the juveniles really hurt us? They’re so cute.”
