2. ‘Ōlena

‘ōlena and her two daughters were mostly settled in at their new place, which was just a few doors down from New Horizons Community Center. A family friend had given ‘ōlena a good deal on the small two bedroom place, and the location was perfect.

They were fully moved in, but in a bare bones kind of way. There were no pictures on the walls yet, no rugs or pillows or other details that made a house feel like home.

But there was something else that needed to happen first.

‘ōlena had taken cuttings from her parent’s yard. Her mom was an amazing gardener, and the garden at the Madeira place was a riot of color, with food plants and ornamentals all mixed together. ‘ōlena had taken little pieces of everything. With a bit of love and care, they would grow into bushes almost overnight.

Her favorite were the hibiscus flowers. Her mother had them growing everywhere, in every color under the sun.

Mahina drove around with gardening shears in her car. If she ever saw a hibiscus bush in a new color or some other ornamental, she would pull over and snip off a tiny piece to add to her garden.

These days, ‘ōlena did the same. Not that she really needed to. It seemed like Mahina had already collected them all.

She had bundled up the little hibiscus twigs by color and labeled them, so that now in front of her house she planted them out from the front door in two identical rows of her favorite varieties. White flowers with deep red centers, bright golden flowers that darkened to a deep orange in the middle, pink flowers with yellow edges.

The purple hibiscus she saved for the backyard, where she sat out on the lanai every morning listening to the birds wake up and watching the world come alive with color.

She planted more cuttings all around the borders of the property, including along the street to create a wall of green between her home and passing cars.

Before adding a thick layer of mulch to keep the grass and weeds at bay, she planted coleus cuttings everywhere. The crazy colorful plants grew crazy quick, and they would provide a thick layer of color at ground level while the hibiscus rooted and grew more slowly - relatively speaking. Soon her new home would be as colorful as the Madeira place.

This was just a rental, and it wasn’t forever. But it was the first place that she had ever lived on her own, just her and her daughters, and she intended to make it feel like home.

‘ōlena had moved back in with her parents after her divorce, expecting it to be a temporary thing, but having that support and being with family through those early years had been such a godsend that she had stayed for nearly five years.

Kiki had been a baby when they moved in, barely walking, and now she was a lanky six year old wearing size eight clothes.

Luana actually was eight, nearly nine, a thought that never failed to make ‘ōlena’s head spin. Strange how the seemingly interminable days of early childhood made for years that went by in a blink.

She was deeply grateful that her parents’ support had made it possible for her to spend those years with her babies instead of working two jobs away from them in order to put a roof over their heads.

Finally, after years of hard work, her homeschool co-op was generating enough income that she could afford a home of her own.

It was also big enough that their rotating locations of Pualena parks and beaches were becoming more and more difficult to keep up with. She had finally secured them a permanent space at the community center… just in time for the place to lose its funding.

‘ōlena was determined to save New Horizons, not only for her girls and their friends but also for all of the kūpuna and at-risk residents who depended on the place of refuge that the community center provided. New Horizons and the surrounding park hosted a weekly soup kitchen, activities for elders, and groups for new mothers in need of community.

She refused to let the place shut its doors due to lack of funding. With the help of the community, she would keep it open.

The how… well, that part she was still figuring out.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and so she brushed the dirt from her hands and checked to see who was calling. The number wasn’t saved to her phone.

“Pualena Playschool, this is ‘ōlena.”

“‘ōlena, thank goodness,” Georgia sighed. “I had to go online to find your number. It’s a full-on comedy of errors over here. First my car died, and then I dropped my phone for the umpteenth time and now it won’t turn on, so I’m calling from Gary’s. Kacie spiked a fever this morning, so we won’t be able to meet you at the keiki beach tomorrow.”

“No worries,” ‘ōlena said, though her heart sank at the idea of finding someone to cover for her at the last minute.

“Thanks. Hopefully we’re one hundred percent by Wednesday and we can join you then. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, take care.” ‘ōlena disconnected the call and sent a message out through the group chat, asking if anyone could cover for Georgia. Then she pocketed her phone and went back to planting hibiscus cuttings.

From the beginning, she had run the co-op with the help of parent volunteers. These days, there were too many kids to manage on her own if a parent didn’t show up for their allotted shift. Sooner or later, she was going to have to hire another teacher to work with her full time.

For now, she would just have to figure out how to make a go of it. Worst case scenario, she could ask her brother to cover Lani’s shift at his shave ice place so that their cousin could help her out at the beach tomorrow.

“You need an extra parent tomorrow?” Nate’s voice startled her. For a big man, he sure could move quietly. She got up with deliberate slowness and turned around.

“Says who?”

“Coconut wireless,” he joked.

She pursed her lips and frowned at him. “I forgot you were in the group chat.”

He spread his hands and shrugged. “My daughters are in the co-op.”

She hummed quietly in acknowledgement.

“Where are they, anyway?”

“Playing in the backyard.” Last she checked, they were making potions. Mud and mulch and flowers in a variety of pots and mixing bowls. It was amazing how long odds and ends from the transfer station could entertain kids, especially when there was mud and water to play with.

“Can we talk?” Nate asked.

She nodded and settled down on the front step, resting her back and legs after a morning of crouching over her transplants.

Nate sat next to her.

She simultaneously enjoyed and resented the feeling of having him so near. He was their family’s missing piece, and she had spent so many years trying to convince herself that nothing was missing.

Even now, the sheer size of him put her at ease. There weren’t many people taller than her, and for whatever reason, they had always made her feel safe. Maybe because her father was such a mountain of a man, and he had always made her feel protected and calm. Nate was cut from the same cloth.

But her father never would have left his family, no matter what sort of job or promotion or pay raise he was offered. Her dad had been there for them, always. He still was.

Before Nate got around to saying whatever it was that he had to say, her phone buzzed again.

“Go ahead and answer it,” he said. “I can wait.”

She sighed and stood, walking a few steps across the thick green lawn. “Pualena Playschool.”

“‘ōlena, it’s Hana.”

“Auntie!” Her heart skipped and sped. Hana was her contact at the Office of the County Clerk. There was only one for the entire island of Hawai’i, and their little town rarely made the docket. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“She said yes.” Hana cut right to the point. “There’s no funding for bills or staff, but if you can cover that, New Horizons can remain open.”

“Perfect. That’s all I need. Thank you.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

“The community center is ours,” she said with relief, turning back to Nate.

“You secured it for the co-op?”

She waved the question away. “For everybody. For Pualena.”

“You’re amazing, Lei.” The way he was looking at her put her hackles up.

What right did he have to look at her all soft and mushy like that? The man had left five years ago, coming around only when it suited his schedule. He swept in, disrupted everything, and sailed off again. Always.

She sat back down on the step, on the opposite side from her ex-husband, so that she could look out at her yard instead of at him when she spoke.

“I’m taking it over.” Excitement crept back into her voice in spite of who she was speaking to. “We just need to fix the place up and pay the bills. No rent.”

“That’s great.” He put his hands together in front of him, looked down, and cleared his throat. “Whatever you need, I’d be happy to help. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m here to stay.”

“You told me that already,” she said flatly.

“Yeah, but did you believe me?” he asked, gently teasing.

In spite of herself, ‘ōlena smiled. “No.”

“Well, I mean it. No more shipboard jobs. I’m done.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I saved up enough to buy a place. I want something with plenty of space, where I can start a local business. Orchards, maybe. I’m not sure yet. I’m waiting for the right property to come up, as close to Pualena as I can find. For now, I’m renting a place here in town. I want to spend more time with Lulu and Kiki.”

She nodded stiffly. She didn’t want to give him more time with the girls; they were her whole world. But she wouldn’t refuse him, either. They adored their dad.

“I could start by joining you all at the beach tomorrow,” he said.

“Fine.” Begrudgingly she added, “Thank you.”

His hand moved closer, but at the first electric brush of his skin against hers, she pulled her hand away. She couldn’t get sucked into that, into him. Not again.

He meant what he said. She knew that.

In this moment, he wanted to be a full-time dad. Wanted her. Wanted to be a family again.

But the Big Island had always been too small for Nate. Sooner or later, he would leave again. And the more she let him in, the harder it would be to pick up the pieces when the inevitable happened.

“You told me to go,” he said, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him.

“I begged you to stay!” she shot back.

Both things were true. She had begged him not to leave her alone with two babies, not to go back to the job that kept him away for months at a time. She had even given him an ultimatum, her or the job. And he had still chosen his next contract over being there for Kiki’s first steps.

On his first day back, she had served him with divorce papers. Better to have no husband, she had thought, than one who was never home.

“I wasn’t ready to quit my job.” Nate’s voice was low, pleading. “I had just been promoted, and the money was too good. I wanted more for our girls, for us. And now I can build that.”

“We just wanted you home.”

“I’m home now.”

“Five years too late.”

“It doesn’t have to be too late, Lei. We could try again.”

She just shook her head.

“Daddy!” Luana had come around the corner with a pie plate full of muck, which she tossed to the ground in her excitement.

“Hey there, Lulu!” His voice was deep and rich, all traces of sorrow gone as he stood and opened his arms to their daughter. She ran into them, followed a moment later by Kiki.

An unwelcome yearning vibrated through ‘ōlena’s chest, like a chord struck by the sight of the three of them together. Their girls were big now, but Nate still stood easily with one in each arm. The sheer size of him made them look younger than they were, almost like babies again.

For a second, ‘ōlena could almost let herself be fooled into thinking that they could start over. They could reset the clock, be a family again.

But no. She was too old and too wise to fall for his promises.

It always started out this way, with heartfelt words and the best of intentions.

And he always left.

No more. She had worked too hard and come too far.

“Can we spend the night at Daddy’s house?” Luana asked.

“Can we, Mama?” Kiki added. Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, her round cheek pressed against the broad line of his jaw. “Please?”

“Sure,” she consented.

She hated an empty house. But it was what it was.

For years, she had wanted him to step up and take the girls more. Now he finally was, and she half wished that he would just go get on another ship.

“I have to get Honu!” Luana wriggled out of Nate’s arms and ran inside to find her stuffed turtle. Kiki would usually be right on her sister’s heels, but instead she seemed to be relishing the unexpected luxury of having their dad all to herself.

“I’ll see you at the beach park tomorrow?” ‘ōlena asked.

“We’ll be there.”

She nodded and said her goodbyes to the girls, then picked up her last bundle of hibiscus cuttings and headed to the back yard. She was going to make this house a home, one twig at a time.