Kimo’s brow furrowed. “Did you get back to see her before...?”
Rex nodded. “Barely. I spent the last few hours with her. She could barely talk but seemed to want to get some things off her chest.”
“Is that when she told you not to let anyone take your choices away?”
“Yes,” Rex said. “She’d studied to be a social worker. When she married my father, she gave up her own career to support his. After I was old enough that I didn’t need her at home, she threw herself into helping others. She didn’t regret raising me, though I could be a challenge at times, especially when I butted heads with my father. I always thought it was because I was too much like him—hardheaded and always thinking I was right.”
“I don’t see that,” Kimo said. “I think you’re more like your mother than you realize. You care about your team. You’re working as hard as I am to find Alana, a woman you don’t know. You’re taking good care of me, another woman you don’t know, and you care about the people who died in that shipping container.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “You’re too kind—like my mother. However, now that I’ve been away from my father for over a decade, I’ve realized I’m not like him. He’s completely driven by the almighty dollar. His focus was never on his family but on how to grow his business and increase his profits each year. He didn’t even get back from his business trip until the day after my mother passed.”
Kimo reached over and touched Rex’s arm. “That’s sad.”
Rex gave a bark of laughter that was anything but joyful. “Get this. My mother told me to tell my father that she forgave him for not making it back in time. That she would be all right.”
“What did he say when you told him that?”
Rex snorted. “He said, ‘Well, okay then. Have you had dinner?’”
“Wow.” Kimo blinked. “Was he not upset or anything?”
“I don’t know.” Rex drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I turned and walked away. He handed her funeral over to a service. I went back to our house, packed a few of my belongings, my passport and birth certificate and then marched down to the nearest recruiting station, which happened to be the Army’s, and signed up. My father called to ask where I’d gone. I told him. He said that if I didn’t go back to school and finish my degree, he’d disown me.”
“That’s harsh,” Kimo said, “especially after losing your mother. So, he disowned you?”
“I don’t know. Don’t care.” Rex stared at the road ahead. “I didn’t want anything to do with him after that. Since he paid for the phone, I tossed it in the trash. I didn’t need one in basic training anyway.” After spilling his guts to a woman who was practically a stranger, Rex was stunned at how easy it was to talk with Kimo. He’d never told another soul about his family situation. He’d never gotten close enough to a female to want to.
Kimo sat back in her seat. “Wow. That makes my childhood sound like a picnic. My mother and father were always loving and happy to be with each other and me. They took me to all the island’s cultural events to teach me about my Hawaiian heritage. We stuck together as a family when the fires drove us out of our home in Lahaina and worked to rebuild our lives in the aftermath.”
“I heard about the fires. That had to be hard,” he said.
She nodded. “The community came together to lift each other up. And we came through. Battered, but not beaten.”
“That shows your resilience as a people.”
“Some things you can come back from,” she said softly.
“What happened with your folks?”
She stared out the side window. “They were flying to Kauai for their thirtieth wedding anniversary. I’d paid for them to stay in a swanky resort with one of the largest paychecks I’d earned for photographs and a video I’d produced for a major resort chain. They’d sprung for a charter flight with a friend who flew celebrities to the different islands.” She paused, still looking out the side window.
Rex shot a glance toward her.
By the reflection in the window, it was clear she was fighting back tears.
A lump formed in Rex’s throat. He felt her loss like an echo of the pain he’d felt when his mother had taken her last breath, and her hand had gone limp in his. He’d been alone, much like Kimo had been. No other family to console him. His father, a cold, heartless bastard, had done nothing to help him through or even share in the pain.
Rex reached for Kimo’s hand and held it without pressing for more information.
Her fingers curled around his. After a moment, she brushed a tear from her cheek. “You’d think after a year and a half, I wouldn’t still get choked up telling the story.”
“I still get choked up. It’s been thirteen years. I still cry on my mother’s birthday,” he said.
She looked up at him, her brow wrinkling. “I can’t imagine you crying about anything.”
His lips pressed together. “That would be my father.”
“And you’re not like him,” she said with a nod.
