Chapter 2 - Rosa

"That's it! Back foot first! Back foot first , Kaila!"

I watch as Kaila crests the wave and, once again, tries to plant both of her feet on her board at the same time. She topples over into the waves. I watch for one second, then two, and then relief floods through my system when she pops back up, a smile plastered on her face. She grabs her board and makes her way over to me.

"Did you see that?" she asks, wringing her hair. "I got so close that time! I nearly had it!"

"Kaila," I say, brushing a bit of sand from her cheek. "You're just too little to try and use that technique. You just have to wait for your legs to get a bit long. I really don't think it's possible."

She rolls her eyes at me—something she's just started doing that I hate. At seven years old, Kaila has a spunky personality. I know she didn't get it from me—Olivia is the one to blame for that.

I have Kaila bring her board up to the house. When she stopped taking my coaching advice, I stopped carrying her board. I give her a fond smile as she chats the entire way up to the house.

"But you didn't feel it, Mom. I was so close. My foot was there. It just slipped."

I roll my eyes at her—then stop, thinking that maybe she did get that bad habit from me. Holding the door open for her, I help her brush some sand off her board, which we leave on the screened-off porch, before heading inside.

Inside, the house smells spectacular. Olivia stands by the stove, her soft pink hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She's constantly changing its color, moving from hue to hue with the seasons. Right now, she's feeling pink.

"What's for dinner?" Kaila asks, popping her head over the side of the stove to see what Olivia is stirring. Olivia plants her hand on the top of Kaila's head, pushing her back.

"Absolutely nothing until you go rinse off. You stink."

Kaila giggles before turning around and running to the bathroom.

"Walk!" Olivia and I call at the same time. I quickly assess the situation, determined that Olivia was making chicken tacos, and grab an avocado from the basket to make a quick mango guacamole.

"Oh," she says, glancing over at me. "Good idea."

She takes the rice off the burner, cutting some fresh cilantro and mixing it in before placing a lid on the pot. Then, she takes the chicken over to the other side of the sink, where she shreds it.

Olivia has been here since day one with Kaila and me. She insisted on coming with me when I showed up at her apartment to tell her I was leaving. I thought it would wear off when she realized we would be in hiding in perpetuity, or if not, then, when she realized a baby is all work and no sleep. But she's stuck by my side through everything.

Kaila sometimes calls her Aunt Olivia, but the two have something of a sibling-esque relationship, teasing each other and sometimes calling on me for mediation. Olivia acts like Kaila's big sister, which I appreciate.

Kaila still hasn't asked why she doesn't get to go to public school with other kids, and I dread the day I have to explain our situation to her. Whenever I think about it, my heart swells with guilt and regret. I wish, more than anything, that Kaila could have a different childhood. A better childhood.

Sure, being a few steps away from the beach is pretty good, and between Olivia and I, we're able to home-school her in any subject. But Kaila won't have a typical childhood experience if things stay the same. She won't go to homecoming or prom, won't stay up all night with her friends before a field trip, won't develop an embarrassing crush, and will have to pass that person in the hallway every day.

"Dinner," Olivia says, breaking me out of my reverie, "is served!"

Kaila has re-appeared in the kitchen, her hair looking soft and brushed-out. She's wearing a simple towel-dress, which is her normal house attire. She's usually wet from either the ocean or a shower after the ocean.

We sit down together and pile out tortillas high with the chicken and guacamole, and Kaila regales Olivia with the story of how she almost got both her feet on the surfboard at once. Over her shoulder, I shake my head, which Kaila catches.

"Hey!" she says, "I know Mom is saying no, but it's true. I was so close. I could feel it."

"Well, I—" Olivia starts to say, but then there's a knock at the door.

Quickly, I stand from the chair, moving out of the kitchen with Kaila in front of me. She knows the drill for when someone comes to the door. After Kaila and I are in the basement, I light a few candles, and I hear Olivia open the door.

"Sorry," I hear her say, "I was just sitting down to supper."

"This is from Bernice Justine," the person says, and I put my hand over my mouth when I hear my mother's name. Kaila looks at me quizzically, but I shake my head at her. She knows better than to make any noise when there's someone at the door.

"Rosa?" Olivia calls after the door shuts upstairs. "They're gone. You need to read this."

I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and stop in front of Olivia, taking the note from her hands. Opening it, my eyes read hungrily.

My dearest love,

Star Jasmine and old vines / Lay claim upon the ghosted land.

I gasp, sucking in a sharp breath, my brain racing with a million thoughts. Is my mother safe? How did she know my father found us?

"What the hell is that?" Olivia asks, crossing her arms. "And who was that woman?"

"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "But this is an old poem my mom liked. We read a lot of poetry together when I was a kid, and sometimes, we would communicate using verses when we didn't want my father to know what we were talking about. This verse—we used to use it to say he was coming home, or he was near."

"So, what?" Olivia asks, her voice rising an octave, panic lacing through her words.

"So, we need to go," I say, stuffing the note into my pocket, turning on my heel, and heading toward the bedroom. "Kaila, stay with me."

She follows at my heels as Olivia heads into her own room. Our dinner sits on the table, abandoned.

"Mom," Kaila says, tears brimming in her eyes. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain it to you later," I say, pulling out my go-bag from under the bed. I've become too complacent—all the clothes I have in here for Kaila are too small. After throwing in my wallet and jewelry, I curse under my breath and, moving into the hallway, crossing into Kaila's room.

I open the bag on her bed and dump out the old baby clothes, turning to her as she stares at me with wide eyes.

"Mom?" a little sob hiccups out of her. "What's going on."

"Come on, honey," I say, trying to stay composed for her sake. "I need you to help me pack. Grab the clothes you want to bring."

"We're leaving?"

"I swear, I will explain everything to you when I have the chance, but right now, I need you to trust me and listen to everything I say, okay? If I tell you to run, you need to go without a backward glance. Do I make myself clear?"

Kaila nods, her throat bobbing, and turns to her drawer, scooping out an armful of underwear first, then she starts to fold a dress.

"I'm sorry," I say, taking it from her hand and stuffing it into the bag. Quickly, I grab her socks, shorts, and t-shirts. "We don't have time to fold things. We can do it later."

"Where are we ever going?" Kaila asks, as she grabs her own backpack and starts to put things in it. I can see how frazzled she is, stuffing in a few pieces of scrap paper, her teddy bear, and the Rubix cube Olivia gave her.

"I don't know," I say, grabbing her arm and turning. "Away."

"Wait!" Kaila says, breaking free of my grasp and grabbing her piggy bank from under her dresser. "We might need this."

I don't have the heart to tell her that kind of money isn't going to do much, so I just nod and press a kiss on her forehead.

"Good thinking."

When we return to the hallway, Olivia is standing there, a packed suitcase next to her and a backpack strapped on her shoulders.

"Olivia," I start to say, but she raises her hand.

" Don't ," she says, shaking her head playfully, though she's not all the way in the feeling. "I will go down with this ship."

I press the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle a cry, then nod once. We move toward the door for half a second when there's another knock at the door.

" Shit ," I say, starting to grab Kaila and move her toward the back door. This is my worst nightmare. But we don't have any time to get away before the front door flies open, nearly hitting Olivia, who jumps back at the last second.

And then—Bigby Vandenberg is filling the doorway, staring right at me.