13. Lani

It was a slow day at Haumona Shave Ice. While two big pots of simple syrup (lime and ginger) simmered on the stove, Lani sat and sketched some possibilities for the mural that Kekoa had asked her to paint on the side of the building.

She had a few different ideas that she was working to flesh out so that her cousin could choose the one that he liked best.

One was a simple geometric concept, a sunrise over the water. The sun was striped orange and yellow like a scoop of shave ice, and the reflection of the rising sun made a cup below it. More stripes radiated through the sea and sky. She would be able to paint that in a day with just a few different paint colors, so it was the most economical option.

She had other ideas that incorporated the ingredients that they used every day. One showed a field of sugarcane with orchards in the background, all overlooking the ocean like the farms up north did. Another was more cartoonish and childlike, with a rainbow-striped cup of shave ice at the center and a rainbow of different fruits radiating outward across the wall.

Using the colored pencils that she had swiped from Rory, she colored in the jumble of oranges and liliko’i that were scattered across the second wedge of color.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called.

Lani looked up from her sketchbook with a start.

“Anyone home?”

“Here I am.” She hurried to the front window. “Sorry, I was just working in the back.”

A family of tourists stood looking at the menu posted on the outside of the building. It was a big group, one of the multi-generational family vacations that came through so often. This group was burned various shades of pink. They looked tired.

“What is shave ice?” asked one of the older kids. “Is it the same as a snow cone?

“Kind of,” Lani said. “It’s like a snow cone but better. The ice is shaved so fine that you don’t get any big pieces with no flavor like snow cones have sometimes. And all of our syrups are made in house, mostly from fruit grown on the island.”

The girl scrutinized the menu with a frown. “And you put the snow cone on top of ice cream?”

“Sometimes, yeah. But you don’t have to get ice cream if you don’t want to.”

“I only want ice cream,” said one of the younger kids.

“You’re missing out,” a grandma warned.

“I don’t care! I want ice cream!”

“I’ll try the shave ice,” the older girl said. “Which flavor’s your favorite?”

“If I had to pick just one…” Lani trailed off, thinking. “I’d have to go with liliko’i.”

“That means passion fruit?”

“Yep!”

“I’ll try it.”

By the time she had served the whole group, it was time to turn off the burners on the stove so that the simmering syrups could start to cool. She wiped down the counters and then washed the bowls that came in from the big group. A few more people came through, and then she had time to draw again.

She had just finished coloring the yellow wedge of the sketch, all pineapples and lemons, when a tingle of apprehension ran up her spine and down her arms. Slowly, in defiance of the freeze instinct that was tightening over her muscles, she looked up at the front window.

Zeke was there, staring at her.

When her eyes met his, he grinned, slow and catlike.

“Looking good, Lani.”

She hated the way her name sounded in his mouth.

“Where’s our girl at?”

Anger sparked deep in her chest. It grew slowly, burning away her fear. She would not let this man anywhere near her daughter. Never again.

“Surprised to see me?”

“What are you doing here?” She stood and walked towards the window, stopping just out of reach.

“I came to see my wife,” he drawled.

“I’m not your wife.”

“Well, not according to the state of Alaska. But me, I took a vow. That’s between you, me, and God. I’m not going to let you walk out of my life just like that. You want to live in Hawai’i? Well, here I am in Hawai’i.”

Her legs trembled, but her voice held firm. “I don’t want you here.”

“Don’t be like that, Lani.” He was leaning on the window ledge, deliberately calm, but a dangerous anger flashed in his eyes.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

He smirked, even as the anger in his eyes grew sharper. “I doubt that.”

“I’ll do it, Zeke.”

“Call them and say what?” He pitched his voice up and waved his hands in the air. “Help, there’s a customer at my little snowcone shack, I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll call them and say that my ex-husband is stalking me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

She took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself as her brain skittered anxiously from one exit to another. The door was locked, but he could climb through the window if he wanted to. Could he be charged with anything for that? Trespassing? Breaking and entering? Harassment by stalking? Would the cops even care?

“How about you make me a snow cone?” he asked in a forced, cheerful tone. “I’d pick lemon, but my mama always told me not to eat that yellow snow. I guess pineapple’s out too. What would you recommend?”

“Please go away,” she begged.

She saw real hurt in his eyes, just for a second, before it was replaced by fresh anger.

“Are you serious, Lani? You won’t even sell me something? The place is dead, and you’re going to turn away a paying customer? Are you really that petty?”

“You’re not welcome here.”

It happened again, a glimpse of something human beneath his posturing.

She wasn’t sure what it was, that flash of pain that showed through the indignation. Could it be empathy? Or just disappointment?

“Does Rory ever ask about me?” he asked, suddenly vulnerable. She had no way of knowing if it was real or just another ploy. She wasn’t sure that he knew. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered honestly.

“No.”

“You probably told her that I abandoned her,” he said, anger flaring again. “The only dad she ever knew. You don’t think that’s going to mess the kid up?”

She shook her head.

“So you’re not even going to let me see her?”

A sudden rage flared in her chest, hot and fierce. She dropped her arms, and her hands balled themselves into fists.

“Wow. You’re really not going to let me see my kid? Not even at, like, a park or something?”

“She’s not your kid,” Lani growled. “She’s mine.”

He barked out a laugh. “I see how it is. You were fine with me feeding and clothing her for four and a half years. You were fine with me being her daddy when you needed a place to stay. But now that you’re done with me, I’m nothing to her. Is that it?”

“I don’t–” she started, but he interrupted her.

“What kind of shack can you even afford on minimum wage, anyway? Where are you guys even staying?”

“This is your last chance to leave before I call the cops.”

“Fine!” he shouted, slamming his hand against the glass.

Lani flinched, and she saw a look of satisfaction on his face.

When he finally walked away, she waited until he was a safe distance from the window before hurrying across the small space.

Her hands shook as she closed the window and locked it. The door was already bolted. She flipped the sign to closed, and then she sank to the floor beneath the counter and hugged her knees to her chest.

Then, hidden from sight and safe behind a locked door, she began to cry.

She could hardly believe that he had crossed an ocean to torment her. She had known that he would track her down if she stayed in Alaska, and she had known that divorce process would be a crucible. But this? Flying thousands of miles to harass her at work? It was more than she had expected, even from him.

How was she supposed to live like this, knowing that he could pop up at any moment?

She wanted so badly to call Tenn, but what if Zeke saw him?

Zeke had once punched a stranger just for looking at her too long. Lani was terrified of what he would do if he saw her and Tenn together. She couldn’t risk it.

What could she do? Where could she go?

She sucked in a few ragged breaths and tried to pull her scattered thoughts together.

He didn’t know where she lived. She didn’t own property or even rent, and her mail came to a PO Box in town. So long as she made sure he didn’t follow her, she would be safe at home. She could hunker down there with Rory.

With a start, she remembered that ‘ōlena was supposed to bring Rory to Haumona after school. She hurried to call her cousin. Then she remembered that ‘ōlena was running the co-op and disconnected.

Don’t bring Rory here,she typed. Please. Zeke just showed up.

‘ōlena’s immediate response contained a variety of expletives. Then she texted, Are you still there?

Yes,Lani replied.

You call Kekoa?

No. He’s working with your dad today. I don’t want to bother them.

Three dots from ‘ōlena appeared and disappeared a few times. Lani could hear her cousin’s voice in her head, chewing her out for not calling the family for backup right away, telling her that she had been away on the mainland for so long that she had forgotten how things worked here at home. Finally, she texted just four words.

Stay inside. Lock up.

A moment later, ‘ōlena looped Lani into a group text with her dad and brother.

Haumona SOS. Get there now.

OK,her dad texted.

Is there a fire or what?Kekoa asked.

No fire,Lani texted back. Just my ex-husband.

On our way, sis. Five minutes.

Lani started to cry again, this time in relief.

She was still crying when a strong knock sounded on the door.

“Leilani, you in there?” Kekoa called. “It’s us.”

She grabbed a clean rag and used it to wipe the snot and tears from her face. Before she could get up and unlock the door, Kekoa opened it with his key. When he saw Lani sitting red-eyed on the floor, his expression was livid.

“I’ll kill him.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Lani said, feeling guilty. How pathetic, that she had interrupted their work day and closed the place. Just because her ex showed up and, what, talked to her?

“Like hell,” Kekoa growled. He extended a hand to Lani. When she took it, he hauled her to her feet.

“You okay?” Manō asked.

Lani nodded hurriedly, but his gentle voice nearly broke her. The corners of her mouth pulled down, and fresh tears stung her eyes.

Her uncle opened his arms, and she stepped into them. He patted her back while she cried.

When the sobs finally stopped, she stepped back and dried her face again.

“There’s syrup on the stove,” she told Kekoa apologetically. “Ginger and lime.”

“I’ll finish up here,” he told her. “My dad will take you home.”

“What if he follows us?” she asked her uncle. “I don’t want him to know where I live.”

“He won’t. But I’m not taking you to your house yet. I’m taking you to your auntie.”

“Okay.” Her mouth pulled down again, and she clenched her jaw against more tears. Her gratitude for her family was tainted with shame for the situation she was in, guilt for causing them trouble, and embarrassment for getting involved with a man like Zeke in the first place.

“Come on.” Manō put a gentle arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”