Her parents’ dedication to helping people in need had given Anne four sisters, countless playmates, and deep friendships with local kids who had lived with them for stints of time. But it had brought some really messed up kids into their home too. She had lost sleep and study time to wailing babies and screaming teens and kids with night terrors.
Once, when she was nine, a teenaged boy climbed into her bed.
She froze in terror, unable to even utter a sound as he climbed on top of her.
Oakley clocked him with a lava lamp, and her screams brought Kimo running.
He and Dawn implemented some changes after that. The four younger girls had all shared a room for years, and Kimo put a strong lock on the door.
There had been other incidents, other damaged children passing on their own trauma. Memories that she chose to leave buried rather than dredging them up again.
Anne didn’t speak any of this aloud. She didn’t have to. It was heavy in the air between them.
Dawn knew most of what had happened, and she knew that the chaos she had allowed to color her daughter’s childhood was the main reason that Anne had bolted at eighteen and never come home again… until now.
“The good outweighed the bad,” Dawn insisted whenever Anne brought up some of the more difficult aspects of her childhood. “Didn’t it?”
And she was right. Anne’s upbringing had been mostly idyllic. She and her sisters had spent vast stretches of their childhood in the forest that grew along the cliffs, climbing and building forts and jumping into the plush carpet of fallen pine needles. There had been countless bright beach days with a dad who doted on them. Adorable babies and always enough kids for a game of tag.
The good had outweighed the bad, always.
But it didn’t erase it.
No amount of sunny memories could transform a childhood where she had never felt completely safe in her own home – a life of tearful goodbyes and new arrivals, where the ground was constantly shifting beneath her feet.
As a child, she had trouble understanding how her parents could prioritize strangers above their own children.
As a parent, she understood it even less.
“I don’t want to turn this place into a hotel,” Dawn said at last. “What if I decide to foster again? I might be too old to keep up with the little ones, but there are so many teens who need a safe place to stay. I’m not ready to close the door on that chapter of my life, Annie. Not yet.”
“Nothing’s forever. Let me fix the rooms up and bring some paying guests through. I’ll get back on my feet, find my own place. And when you’re ready to foster again, those rooms will still be there.”
“Okay.” Dawn’s shoulders relaxed into a quiet sort of acquiescence. “Try it your way. No sense in letting this big house go to waste.”
“I’ll put some of the money back into the house. Shore it up.”
Her mother nodded distantly, retreating back into the haze that she had been living in for so many months.
Anne would have to find a way to draw her out, sooner or later. Maybe new people passing through would wake Dawn up a bit. She had always seemed to thrive in the chaos of new arrivals.
But first things first. Anne needed guests coming through as soon as possible, but she also needed to spruce the place up.
She’d made a good start: airing out the empty rooms, hanging quilts in the sun, scrubbing the place from top to bottom. But first impressions mattered. She walked out onto the lawn and turned to look at the grand old house, mottled gray and blue and just generally looking worse for wear.
The place needed a fresh coat of paint, and she had just enough room left on her credit cards to make it happen.
9
Akemi
There were countless magical spots on the Big Island, but Honoli‘i in particular was an enduring family favorite. And now, with Laurie and Oakley living up north, it was a good meeting point between Waimea and Pualena.
Parking could be problematic, with dozens of cars squeezed into a bend of the narrow road that ran along the cliffs, but that meant that the beach was never overcrowded. It was a local spot that was much more peaceful than the popular Kona beaches or Hilo’s bayfront parks.
The view from the street was magnificent; it overlooked a vast expanse of ocean that stretched from the small green park far below out to the distant horizon. Waves rolled ever inward, breaking in a spot that was popular with local surfers. They dotted the water that afternoon; Akemi could see thirty or more from where she stood at the edge of the street.
A long set of stairs led from the cliffs down to the black sand beach, which was nestled between the river and the sea. They hiked all the way down the beach, feet sinking into the sand, and set up camp at the far end.
