20. ‘Ōlena

Lani had been so anxious all morning that it was starting to put ‘ōlena on edge.

“Are you okay?” she asked her cousin.

Lani jumped when she put a hand on her shoulder. She gathered herself quickly, pasting on a smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. What’s going on?”

Quickly, glancing around to make sure that there was no one nearby, Lani related the story of her home invasion and the subtle message that Zeke had left behind.

Even here,the rings on the nightstand said, you’re not safe. Even now, I think of you as mine. There will be no sense of safety for you. No escape.

It chilled her in a way that was completely antithetical to the perfect, sunny day around them. The grass shone green underfoot and children laughed nearby, but the fear that she saw in Lani’s eyes just about broke her heart.

A slow fury grew in her chest like fire.

“I’ll kill him,” ‘ōlena muttered under her breath.

“Stop it.” Lani looked stricken. “That doesn’t help. Just… forget about it for today, okay? Don’t focus on me.”

‘ōlena gave her an incredulous look.

“There’s nothing we can do about him right now. Anyway, this is your day. I’m here to celebrate you, to support you. Okay?”

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Come on.”

They walked across the lawn to meet the crowd that had gathered near the playground.

The girls had run ahead to play with their friends. The co-op parents milled about nearby, chatting. Every Pualena Playschool family had gathered that morning to celebrate the reopening of New Horizons Community Center.

‘ōlena and her board of directors had appeared at the Office of the County Clerk to present the paperwork for their new nonprofit and describe their plans for the community center.

The council had given them hardly any time at all, barely eight minutes wedged between other matters of the day, but it had been enough.

The community center was officially in the hands of the community.

When ‘ōlena drew closer, the whole crowd burst into applause. She gestured for silence, embarrassed.

“Thank you for coming today, and for making this possible.” She kept her acknowledgement short and sweet. “Let’s open these doors!”

When ‘ōlena used the key she had wrested from the council to undo the padlock and unchain the doors, a cheer went up from the crowd. It started with the adults and moved through the kids, who didn’t fully understand what was happening but were happy to add to the noise.

As soon as the doors were open, the kids ran through.

‘ōlena had spent a good part of her weekend setting up the two rooms that would be used by the playschool. With help from Lani and Georgia and Nell, she had brought in rugs and set up tables for the kids to work at. Art supplies lined the walls, and the cabinets were stocked with games and puzzles and math manipulatives.

The second room was dedicated to big, messy play, with bare floors and plenty of materials. There were piles of cardboard boxes, bottles of paint, rolls of tape, and a variety of recycled materials to build with. Half of the kids immediately threw themselves into creating a cardboard castle while the others explored the room across the hall.

Nate came to stand beside her, his smile warm. “You did it.”

“Of course I did.” She kept her voice and expression flat. “I can do anything.”

“I know you can.” He was cheerful, unphased by her attempts to stonewall him. It almost made her smile.

Almost.

If the man thought that he could weasel his way back into her life by playing the attentive father for a few weeks, he had another thing coming.

He had been gone so long that just being home felt novel to him, and winning her over was an exciting challenge. But it wouldn’t last.

Just when the girls got used to having him around, he would find a reason to leave again.

And ‘ōlena would be left to pick up the pieces.

But in the meantime, she couldn’t tell her daughters that Daddy wasn’t allowed to help out with the co-op alongside the other parents. She just had to endure him. Eventually, he would lose interest.

It made her chest ache, watching him be the father she always knew that he could be. And yes, there was a foolish corner of her heart that longed to give her children an intact family, the warm sense of safety that she had felt growing up with two wonderful parents who loved each other deeply.

But if she gave in, if she gave her girls any indication that Mommy and Daddy were getting back together, it would break their hearts all over again when he left.

Except this time it would be worse, because this was the longest that they had ever had their dad home. And they were older now. They would suffer longer and remember that heartbreak for the rest of their lives.

She refused to do that to them, to let that delusional thread of hope cause unnecessary heartbreak and upheaval for her girls. And so she treated Nathan with the same cool courtesy that she did every other father who occasionally showed his face at the co-op.

The smallest smile could give a man the wrong idea and cause needless headaches for her. She saved that warmth for the kids.

“Auntie ‘ōlena!” Shoshana ran over to show her a watercolor rainbow she had painted over a forest of red-spotted trees.

“How beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Is this an ‘ōhi?a forest?”

“Yes!”

“I love it. Do you want to take it home or hang it up here in the classroom?”

“Here in the classroom!”

“Go on, hang it up.”

“How do I hang it up?”

“Look at this.” ‘ōlena led her over to the far wall, where she had draped thin wires lined with clothespins. “You can use these.”

Shoshana peered up at the wall. “Can you put it at the top?”

“Sure, I can hang it up here.” She took the piece of watercolor paper and carefully clipped it onto the topmost wire.

“I’m gonna make another one!” Shohana raced back to the table where Paige and Rory sat painting.

‘ōlena felt a deep sense of satisfaction watching the kids each do their own thing.

Her co-op had always provided the kids with a good mix of art projects and free play and nature, but being in a different space every day had limited the materials that she could offer at any one time. She loved the dynamic of this open and protected space, the kids all doing what called to them in that moment. Everything was in perfect flow – for the moment, at least.

She was also excited to get out and explore with smaller groups of kids, the way that she had back when she first started the co-op. Of course, to do that, she would need a dedicated teacher who could run things here while she took rotating groups of children out and about on field trips.

In the other room, the cardboard construction crew had split into two groups. On one side, Nate and their daughters and a few other kids were hard at work on their cardboard castle. On the other, kids were painting their own cardboard cars.

“These are amazing!” ‘ōlena said.

“We’re having fun,” Nell said with a laugh. Her daughter, Cassie, was painting her car hot pink. Her baby was sound asleep on her back.

“You know, I’m going to need a second teacher to help me run the day to day.”

Nell clutched a cardboard wheel to her chest and looked up at ‘ōlena with wide eyes. “Do you mean me?”

“Are you interested?”

“I could still bring Everett?”

“Of course. I can’t afford much more than minimum wage, but–”

“I’ll take it,” Nell cut in. “If I can bring my babies, I’ll take it.”

‘ōlena grinned. “In that case, you can start today.”