She wouldn’t have so much as a pinch of his ashes, though; the bombing site was inaccessible to her.Sophie’s heart gave a painful squeeze, but she rallied.“I’m bringing Auntie Malee back with me to Hawaii for her first visit to the Islands.It’s past time she spends some time getting to know the children.”
“Great idea.I will look forward to seeing her again; it’s been too long.”
“I have to go, Dad.Thanks for witnessing this with me.It was good we could share this.”
“We both wanted to make sure Pim Wat was really dead and totally gone,” he said.
“Macabre, but true,” Sophie said.
When the crematorium delivered the urn the next day—plain ceramic, unmarked—Sophie gave the ashes to her aunt’s temple to scatter in their garden of unmarked remains.
In death, Pim Wat would share space with strangers, commoners, and the poor.She would’ve hated that, and thus Sophie smiled.
* * *
Three days later,Sophie pushed Malee’s wheelchair through Honolulu International Airport toward the baggage claim, where Armita and Bill were picking them up.Feirn limped on crutches behind them; she’d invited him to Hawaii to become part of her permanent security team.
Trade winds carried the scent of plumeria through the open-air terminal.Her aunt hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d cleared customs, marveling at everything from the multilingual signs to the casual mixing of cultures that defined Hawaii.
“There,” Malee said softly, pointing.“There they are.”
Sophie glanced up, and her heart cracked open.
“Mama!Mama!”Momi broke free from Armita’s grasp, her five-year-old legs pumping as she ran across the baggage claim area, silky curls streaming behind her.Sean toddled after his sister, chubby arms outstretched, his loud cries of “Mama!”echoing off the high ceiling.
Sophie dropped to her knees to catch them both, pulling their small bodies against her so tightly they squeaked and wriggled.She breathed them in: Johnson’s Baby Shampoo, Goldfish crackers, and the indefinable sweetness of family.
Tears she couldn’t shed for Connor, for her mother, for all the death and waste, welled and overflowed in a hot, silent gush.
“Mommy crying,” Sean observed with concern, patting her cheek with a sticky hand.
“Happy tears, baby,” Sophie managed.“Mama’s glad to see you.”
“We made you pictures!”Momi announced, pulling back to study her mother’s face with serious eyes.“And Sean only broke two crayons this time.”
“Me draw!”Sean laughed, the big belly chuckle that always reminded Sophie of his father, Jake.
Sophie smiled through her tears, gathering them close in a hug once more.Armita stood back, hands clasped, her stern face soft with a smile.When Sophie finally looked up, the rest of her group had convened.
Frank Smithson looked older, his ambassador’s bearing intact but his face showing the strain of recent days.When Sophie stood, still clutching her children in her arms, he came forward and embraced them without words.She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent—the same aftershave he’d worn since she was small, a touchstone of stability.
“I’m sorry about Connor,” he said quietly against her hair.“I meant to tell you before.”
Sophie nodded against his shoulder.
Pierre hung back beside Bill, hands in his pockets, waiting.
When Sophie saw him, she set the kids down and walked over.She reached for him, pulling him into an embrace that marked, for everyone who witnessed it, a change in relationship status.
Pierre wrapped her close in his steady warmth; those easy tears came to her eyes again at the relief, the safety, the companionship and support of his hug.
“I’ve been terrified,” he murmured in her ear.
“It’s over now,” she whispered back.“All of it.”
Frank cleared his throat after a moment, drawing their attention as he stepped away from greeting Malee.“I was hoping you all might be hungry.I made a reservation for all of us at the club.They have good hamburgers.”
“Pizza!”Sean yelled, getting a laugh as Armita took him by the hand.
