Fine,she replied automatically.Just tired.
Three sets of eyes stayed fixed on her: Anne’s almond-shaped silver, Akemi’s wide and almost black, Oakley’s bright and glaring blue.
Stop staring!Laurie signed sharply.
“What is with you today?” Oakley demanded.
“I’m tired.”
“Just tired?” Anne asked.
“Laurie, we can’t help you if you won’t tell us what’s going on.” Oakley was still staring, despite what she’d said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you in trouble?” The words were exaggerated, like a stage whisper – or maybe she was mouthing them without making a sound. Laurie rolled her eyes.
I’m fine, she signed.
Before they could say anything else, she stood and walked away.
Oakley couldn’t be bothered to visit her, hardly texted or called, butnowshe cared? Enough to make some big show of concern in front of the others?
Laurie was fuming.
I’m going for a walk, she told Mia as she crossed the backyard.
OK!She waved goodbye and ran to catch up with her cousins. She adored Hayden and Harper, but those girls were perpetually overscheduled. Even in the summer, they were so booked up that there was no time left to play.
At least, that’s how Oakley responded whenever Laurie tried to make plans.
But then when Anne showed up, Oakley suddenly had plenty of time to spare.
Just like when they were kids. Annie Oakley, forever BFFs… with no time for their tagalong kid sister or baby Akemi.
Laurie slammed the gate on her way out, making the fence shake.
She hated how getting together with family dredged up all of her childhood trauma. Away from them, she felt mature and settled. She was confident in her work, confident in her parenting. She wasgrown.
But all it took was a perceived snub from her sister to make her feel like a kid again. Dawn gave her the cold shoulder, and suddenly she was that little girl who sat out on the front stepsfrom sunup to sundown every Sunday, waiting for her birth mother to show up for a visit.
Laurie kicked at a loose rock, suddenly frustrated with herself. She missed her sisters like crazy when she didn’t see them – but then they drove her crazy when they were together. Maybe that was just the nature of family.
Life had been easier with their dad around. She missed him terribly. Kimo’s stable presence always steadied the ship. He was the one they turned to when they were sad, the one who held them up.
Her feet took her nearly to the edge of the cliffs, close enough to feel the salt spray. She looked out at the vast blue Pacific beneath an even bigger sky, and her breath came easier. Looking at the horizon steadied her somehow.
A wave crashed into the rocks below, shaking the ground beneath her feet.
She understood Akemi’s impulse to run – to go to new places and reinvent herself, free from any of her childhood stories, far from the people who had watched her grow up. That promise of a fresh start was part of why Laurie had agreed to the house in Hawi, when originally she had hoped to find something closer to home.
As it turned out, living in isolation could be difficult, even (or perhaps especially) for an introvert. It had been fine when Mia was little. Laurie drove her down to the Waimea playground most days, or they would meet friends at the beach, and that was all the company that Laurie needed.
Then Mia and her friends hit five. Between school and other activities, those play dates slowly dried up. Everyone was just… busy.
Everyone but her.
Then Laurie’s car broke down, and it never came home from the mechanic. Chris had promised to help her find a good usedcar – no small feat on the island, where cars took a beating on backroads and rust was always a problem – but he’d never followed through. After being told “next week” for months on end, she started working freelance while Mia was at school. She’d buy a new car herself, without having to ask.
