“My neighbors will notice,” she said primly.
“Go get dressed, then. I’ll wait.”
Dawn inhaled, looking resistant – then she seemed to take in the determination in Halia’s eyes, and she let her breath out with a sigh.
“Five minutes,” she said.
“I’m in no hurry,” Halia told her. “I’ve got all day.”
Dawn went upstairs, and Halia wiped down the counters just to give herself something to do. Waiting didn’t come naturally to her, but she had learned that occupying herself with another task made it easy enough.
“Okay,” Dawn said when she came back down. “Ready.”
She was wearing beige slacks and a loose linen shirt. Her hair was pinned up beneath a straw hat that she wore to protect her skin from the sun.
All the years that Halia had known her, Dawn had a healthy tan. Now, after months spent indoors, she’d gone pale. At least the purple circles beneath her eyes were starting to fade.
“Where’s your market basket?” Halia asked.
“Right, okay.” Dawn went into the carport and shifted things around until she found the structured backpack that she liked to use on market days.
They strolled along the cliffside trails at an easy pace, chatting about Halia’s work and Dawn’s rotating house guests. With only thirteen years separating them, Halia and her adoptive mother had long since established a relationship of equals.
Halia was deeply grateful for the family that adoption had given her – but being adopted as a teen by such a young couple, their relationship had always felt more like older siblings and mentors than parents. And now, after decades, she and Dawn had settled into an enduring friendship.
The Sunday market was right out on the cliffs, easy walking distance from the house. Halia was fairly certain that Dawn hadn’t been since Kimo passed, but she wasn’t going to grind her point in by asking how long it had been. It was enough that she was out of the house and moving.
The day was perfect, with clean blue skies and a brisk wind blowing in off of the ocean. It carried the sea spray, speckling their skin with a fine mist of salt water.
White pop-up tents lined the black rock of the cliffs, a double row of vendors selling their wares well away from the edges where waves splashed over into tide pools.
The sun was strong, and their first stop was at a table with a rainbow array of lemonades and herbal teas. A pretty young woman with a baby strapped to her back was chatting with customers and handing out samples. Halia chose a deep purple blend of hibiscus and butterfly pea; Dawn opted for the bright orange lilikoi lemonade.
Halia dove into her usual weekly shopping while Dawn was waylaid by first one friend and then another, neighbors descending to draw her into good-natured gossip. A sense of satisfaction settled over Halia as Dawn was enveloped by their community. That was what she needed: to realize that her life and her people were still there for her, that the days rolled onand the sun still shone even in the wake of a heart-shattering loss.
She moved on, buying a few things for her house and massive basketfulls of fruit for the women’s shelter. Technically, the residents at A Place of Refuge were responsible for their own meals – but she liked to keep the kitchen stocked with basics so that there was always something on hand to eat. If nothing else, the kids could always grab a banana and a spoonful of peanut butter.
Every week, Halia saw people at the market who had passed through A Place of Refuge at some point in their lives. That day, she saw two:
Jason was one of the first children to live at the shelter with his mother, and that morning he was on duty at the Thai stand.
She also spotted a more recent resident who had come to the shelter with her two babies the year before: Nell, with her fiery hair and soft voice, was walking hand in hand with her new husband.
Halia bought two bowls of green curry, and she and Dawn shared a picnic table with a group of aunties that they had known for forty years or more.
They made their walk back to the house with heavy baskets and light hearts.
“Can you stay a while?” Dawn asked when they walked into the kitchen. “I’ll make some fresh coffee.”
“I’m going to stop by A Place of Refuge soon, but sure. I have time.”
“Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“I’m not working today. Just dropping some food off. And there’s a new family; I want to see how they’re settling in.”
Dawn smiled and shook her head. “Thatiswork.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
