“Cross my heart. Not tonight.”
She didn’t have it in her to ask anything else, so she waded in deeper, grabbed his hand and let him pull her into the boat. He lifted her as though she weighed no more than a leaf and was just as precious.
“Do you want a life vest?” he asked.
She was quick to answer. “What do you think?”
“Just had to ask. Safety first.”
It was hard to tell if he was serious, but just being on the water made her feel a little lighter, and she leaned against the center console, grabbing on to a leaning post for support. This boat felt so much more substantial than the little Whaler she and Nalu had been tootling around in. There was room to spread out, and she made sure to keep a safe distance between herself and Luke. Already she could feel the heat coming off his skin and hear the softwhooshof his heartbeat.
As a girl, she had thought that everyone could hear the things she could. She remembered asking her father when the eggs would hatch as they passed underneath a heron’s nest high in cypress.
“How do you know there are eggs up there?” he’d asked.
“I can hear the babies wiggling around inside them. They’re almost ready.”
He gave her a strange look, then said, “How about we come check every morning? That way we’ll know for sure.”
They hatched three days later. The earth and the animals spoke to those who were willing to listen. That’s what her father told her. Her mother, on the other hand, would tell her what a great imagination she had when Minnow said she could hear chirps of the bats hanging in the attic or fish nibbling on kelp. Eventually she stopped mentioningit and the heightened sensitivity became a secret she held close to her heart.
In the boat neither spoke as Luke navigated them out of the bay. The engine purred along, and as they headed seaward she watched the lights from the resort grow smaller and smaller. She kept waiting for Luke to turn south, but he didn’t.
“Hale Niuhi is that way,” she finally said.
“Are you in a hurry?”
She sighed and resigned herself to let him take her wherever he wanted. “No, I guess not.”
“How about we just pretend the world back there doesn’t exist and enjoy this stunning evening,” he said. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Good.”
It felt nice to be on a boat at night without wearing ten layers and a wool beanie. Even with the light wind on her face, she was perfectly comfortable. But she felt on edge—mad at herself and mad at this crazy world that couldn’t seem to see beyond the immediate and how the entire planet was all one beautiful and troubled organism.
“Why is that good? Are you going to share your nuts and chips with me? Or do you have‘opihi?” she asked.
He slowed the boat down to a crawl. “I only eat‘opihifresh, and believe it or not, I have a big sandwich and a tub of mac salad in that cooler back there. Only one fork, though.”
A tiny crack formed in her armor. “Do you do this often? Go out just to eat and watch the stars?”
“Lately, yeah. There’s something about this island that makes me want to be outside all the time. I feel restless when I’m indoors, like I might be missing something spectacular. Have you noticed?”
Why did he have to sound like such a kindred spirit? It made her like him even more, when she wanted not to like him at all. “All hours of the day and night. I think it’s the warmth and the color of the water.”
“That, but more. If you had asked me five years ago if I ever wanted to live in Hawai?i, I would have shaken my head. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave. The pull is physical.”
She understood. She’d felt it too. “Like an umbilical cord.”
He shot her a glance. “You could say that, yeah.”
“Strange how it’s all the same ocean but so different than the West Coast, like another planet. But as magical as it is here, I’ll never leave my sharks.”
He went quiet for a bit, and Minnow turned to look back at the land. There were only tiny patches of lights here and there, and the four tall mountains stood dark against the stars, cutouts of massive pyramids.
“Did you know they have orcas in these waters?” Luke asked.
