“Not too many.” Her shelter was small, and she liked it that way. She had deliberately created a sense of community there from the beginning.
She never forgot a face – but then, some faces had a way of changing. This one had the faint beginnings of a mustache, but those kind brown eyes had stayed the same.
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s great. She’s still working in Hilo, but her new husband has a house here, so we moved back to Pualena.”
“Do you like him? Your new stepdad?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s a good guy. We go hiking together sometimes. He’s kind of healing my relationship with fatherfigures, you know?”
Halia grinned as more memories resurfaced: conversations with a solemn little boy who had always been wise beyond his years.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said.
“You know…” He scuffed his foot on the ground and looked down, suddenly shy again. “A Place of Refuge was a lifesaver for my mom and me. Literally, maybe. And it wasn’t just important. It also felt like home, you know? I really loved it there.”
“That’s lovely to hear, Ikaika. Thank you.”
“I was wondering if maybe you ever needed volunteers? It’s just that the place meant a lot to me, and I’d like to help, if I could.”
“That’s a lovely offer,” Halia stalled.
Behind her placid expression, her thoughts went into a sudden turmoil.
In a shelter that only allowed women and children, teenage boys were in a strange sort of limbo. She allowed minors, but sometimes the presence of an older boy could frighten new arrivals – and sometimes they posed a genuine threat.
She trusted Ikaika, but normally she would never allow a man to volunteer at her little women’s shelter. He wasn’t eighteen yet, but he wasn’t far off either. She couldn’t let him get started just to toss him out on his birthday… but she didn’t want to breach the sanctity of the safe space that she had created, either.
Shelooked at Ikaika and saw the boy that she had known, but current residents with their battered nervous systems might see this tall young man and perceive a threat.
“I’m too old,” he guessed, deflating. “I’m not allowed there anymore.”
“If you really want to help, there are other things you could do.We could figure out an internship helping me with paperwork and grant writing, maybe.”
He brightened. “That sounds cool.”
Halia smiled. How could she turn away a kid who said that about helping her nonprofit with its endless piles of paperwork?
“There’s also a weekly soup kitchen at the community center,” she told him. “Would you like to help with that?”
“Sure.”
“Here.” She fished out a business card and handed it to him. “Give me a call if you’re interested. And tell your mother I said aloha.”
“I will, Auntie. Mahalo.”
He retreaded back to the shack, and Halia ate her rapidly melting ice cream.
“Why isn’t he allowed?” Pete asked.
“What’s that?” Halia asked, caught off guard. Her nephew had been gobbling up his ice cream since it landed on the table, and she hadn’t realized how closely he had been following the conversation.
“At Place of Refuge. We go there sometimes and play with the kids. Why can’t he go too?”
“A Place of Refuge is for women and children,” she said carefully.
“And he’s not a kid anymore?”
