But as she sat there watching her daughters, she had to acknowledge that she didn’t actually want her sister to babysit. Their childhoods were flying by at breakneck speed, and there was no part of her that wanted to exchange even a few hours of time with her girls for a night out with her husband.
Deep down, she knew that wasn’t a good sign.
8
Anne
A single day spent cleaning the house and pacing the cliffs had Anne feeling like a restless, stranded teenager. It was an uncomfortable throwback to her restless adolescence, that old feeling that she had outgrown her family home, her small town, and even the Big Island itself.
Living at the edge of the cliffs was enviable, she knew… but it could also leave her feeling as though she were stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
And in a way, she was.
The next day, she borrowed her mom’s car to run some errands in Hilo. The old Honda was the same age as she was, but it was still chugging along well enough. With the kids in tow, she loaded up on library books and groceries.
“Where are we going?” Claire protested when Anne pulled off the highway in Kea‘au. “I thought we were going home.”
“I just need to stop at the post office.”
“Doesn’t Pualena have a post office?” Pete asked.
“It’s too small,” Claire said. “Grandma doesn’t even get mail.”
“Right.” Anne kept her voice upbeat. “That’s why we’re stopping by her PO Box.”
“I hate it here.” Claire pulled at her seatbelt, holding it away from her shoulder.
Every glance at her daughter brought a fresh wave of guilt for Anne. Despite a thick layer of sunscreen in the morning and then a sneak-attack of sunscreen spray in the afternoon, their day at the river had left Claire’s skin a painful shade of pink. Her nose was already starting to peel.
“Nothing like a sunburn to remind us that we have no business living here,” she griped.
“I’m not sunburned,” Pete said cheerfully.
“Whatever. You’re not supposed to be here either.”
“Why not?”
“We’re colonizers.”
A huff of frustration escaped Anne’s throat.
“What?” The freshly minted fourteen year old held her ground.
“Come on, Claire. I was born here.”
“Well,Iwas born in San Diego,” she snapped.
“Not exactly indigenous there either, are we?”
“We’d best move to Scotland,” Pete interjected in a truly terrible Scottish accent. Anne had to laugh.
“It literally never stops raining in Scotland,” Claire grumbled.
“Exactly!” Anne said. “No sunburns. Home of the redheads! Let’s go!”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I like it here,” Pete said.
