5. ‘Ōlena

“And we’ll still be able to use this space for the weekly food kitchen?” Linda asked. Instead of her usual bun, she wore her hair in a long braid down her back. It moved back and forth as she worked, reminding ‘ōlena of a silvery fish.

“Of course. We’re working to keep New Horizons open for the whole community, not only my homeschool co-op.”

“Then you can count me in.”

“Great, thank you.”

‘ōlena crossed the open-air kitchen and tapped her cousin on the shoulder. Lani jumped in surprise and spun around to face her.

“Oh.” She calmed slightly when her eyes landed on ‘ōlena, and she put a hand to her heart. “It’s you.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. You startled me, that’s all.” She looked back across the lawn at the playground. “I was just watching Rory on the swings.”

“Right… Hey, have you seen the napkins?”

“What?” Lani asked, still looking at her daughter.

“The napkins. Where did you put them?”

“Oh. I think they’re still in the truck.” She blinked and tore her attention away from the kids. “I’ll go grab them.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.”

‘ōlena frowned as she watched her cousin walk away. Lani had been jumpy all morning, but she wouldn’t say why. Maybe when they had a minute alone, she could find out what was going on with her. The bustling activity of the soup kitchen had her feeling slightly on edge herself.

“Where do you want the ‘ulu potato salad, Mrs. Rasmussen?” Tara asked.

“You can just put it at the end of the table there,” Linda told her neighbor.

“I’m headed home to bake some breadfruit brownies for my next round of meal deliveries. Lani said she would bring my bowl back for me.”

“Go on, then,” Linda said, focused on the bustling activity happening all around her. Then she paused and looked up. “Wait, Tara?”

She turned back. “Yeah?”

“Are you going to put mac nuts in the brownies again?”

Tara grinned. “I can.”

“Bake a few extra for me, would you?”

“I always do.” She paused on her way out and touched ‘ōlena’s shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you have space in your co-op.”

“For your two girls? They’re, what, eight years old now?”

“They are. I’ve been so busy in the kitchen lately, I think they would really enjoy getting out with you a few times a week. They’re busy with riding lessons and an online art class, but we could commit to three days a week. If you have room for them, that is.”

“Of course. Luana would love it if your twins came. She’s the oldest kid right now, so having two more girls the same age as her would be wonderful. I’ve been meaning to hire some full-time help anyway.”

“Wonderful. I’ve got to run, but I can email you later about the details.”

“Sounds good.” She looked over to the playground, where Luana and the twins were orchestrating some complicated game, bossing around the younger kids.

More and more, her older daughter had been complaining about how all of the kids her age had been falling away from the group as their parents enrolled in more traditional classrooms. She would be thrilled to have Paige and Piper there a few days a week.

But goodness, ‘ōlena needed some full-time backup.

Ideally another mom and not her ex-husband.

She had to admit that having Nate on deck the other day had worked out well. He had watched over the kids playing in the water while ‘ōlena had led art activities with the other half, first watercolors with the older kids and then finger painting with the littles.

She wouldn’t turn him down if he wanted to help more often, particularly if he was with half the kids at the community center on the days that she was leading excursions with the other half. If he wanted to include the girls’ friends in his coparenting efforts, so much the better.

She would take the extra help while she could, because she had no doubt that sooner or later he would get restless and take a job off island again.

What she really needed was a co-teacher or two. People that she could rely on to show up day after day, not just volunteer here and there when it suited them.

As soon as she had their new space sorted out, she would start the process of interviewing potential employees.

“Okay, I think we’re ready,” said Linda. “‘ōlena, would you serve up this chili? I’ll have them form two separate lines, meat eaters and vegetarians. We’ve got quite the crowd today.”

Lani moved into place beside ‘ōlena to serve up the chicken katsu that another auntie had dropped off. The kids went for that one, skipping the chili in favor of breaded chicken and white rice.

“Where’s Kai?” asked one little boy with curly black hair.

“He’s still in California,” Lani told him.

“Isn’t he ever coming back?” the boy whined.

“A few more weeks, kiddo.”

He groaned and stomped off towards the picnic tables.

Once everyone was served, and with plenty of food left to spare, ‘ōlena and Lani filled plates for themselves and their daughters. Getting them off of the playground took some doing, but finally they settled down at a table with the rest of the kids.

“Mind if we join you?” Lani asked a mom who had one of the tables to herself. She had a baby on her lap and a little girl perched on the bench next to her.

“Of course not,” the young woman said quickly. “Sit down, please.”

They slid onto the bench across from her. ‘ōlena didn’t recognize her, which was an unusual occurrence in a town as small as theirs. Tourists came through daily, usually stopping at her brother’s shave ice place or Tenn’s cafe, but a new face at the weekly soup kitchen was notable.

“I’m Nell,” the woman introduced herself. She was about Lani’s size, with big amber eyes and dark red hair pulled back into a messy bun. “This is Cassie and Everett.”

“I’m four and a half,” Cassie volunteered.

“Good to meet you. I’m Lani, and this is my cousin ‘ōlena.”

“You’re the one who runs the Pualena Playschool,” Nell said with a glance at ‘ōlena’s t-shirt, which had the name of her co-op printed on the front and back. “I follow you. Online, I mean. And I’ve seen your group at the beach a couple of times.”

“That’s us,” Lani said brightly. “You should come check it out.”

Nell blushed and looked down at her chili, pushed back just out of reach of Everett’s hands. “I would love to, but I don’t have the money right now.”

“Everyone is welcome,” ‘ōlena assured her. “If you want to stay and give me a hand instead of dropping your daughter off, you don’t have to pay.”

“Really?”

“Of course. It’s a co-op. That was the idea when it started, anyhow. Most parents would rather pay than participate, but you’re welcome to contribute in other ways.”

“That would be amazing.” Nell said, perking up. She reached into her backpack to find a teether for her baby, and ‘ōlena glimpsed a series of bruises on her upper arm, just past the edge of her t-shirt. It put the hair up on the back of her neck.

From the look on Lani’s face, she knew that her cousin had seen the bruises too. But by the time Nell looked back at them, Lani had wiped the dismay off of her face and resumed her welcoming smile.

“My daughter Rory is just a little bit older than Cassie. And the older kids are so sweet with the younger ones. It’s a great group.”

They continued to chat, Lani gradually drawing Nell out of her shell, but ‘ōlena’s attention drifted towards the New Horizons building. She had finally gotten the keys yesterday, and a cursory look at the building had revealed more things wrong with it than she had realized before. It wasn’t only the employee salary that the local government couldn’t afford, but also the upkeep.

She excused herself and walked across the lawn, leaving her bowl at the kitchen on the way. While the field around the playground was well maintained – not even by paid staff, as it turned out, but by a kindly old uncle down the street with a riding lawn mower – the space behind the community center was an overgrown mess.

Aggressive cane grass had taken over what had once been a flourishing community garden. She had vague memories of her mom and grandma working in that space with their neighbors, a long time ago now. She couldn’t remember when it had been abandoned, or why. But the land was there, ready to be reclaimed.

Just one more thing on an already overwhelming list of tasks.

But she didn’t have to do all this herself.

This was a community center, and Pualena had community aplenty. They just needed someone to get things started. And with the key to the building, ‘ōlena was already halfway there.

She let herself in and walked through the deserted hallways of the community center, refamiliarizing herself with everything that needed to happen.

There were broken lights that needed to be seen to, and exposed wires that needed to be fixed up and tucked away. Her dad knew plenty of electricians; she had a feeling that at least one of them would be willing to put in a day’s work for the community center.

What most concerned her was the evidence of water damage here and there in the ceiling. The building’s metal roof had gone too long without a fresh coat of paint, and the nightly rains that graced Pualena had started to make their way in.

When ‘ōlena picked up an abandoned push broom and gave the ceiling a careful nudge, it went right through.

She cursed under her breath and pulled out her phone.

“Howzit?” her dad answered.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

“You down at New Horizons?”

“Yeah. The roof needs work. And the ceilings.”

“Me and the crew been busy building the ‘ohana at Uncle Ron’s place, but we could come next weekend.”

“Mahalo, Dad.”

“Thank you for taking over the community center. That’s real aloha right there. There used to be choke people there all the time, always something going on. Then we got busy and let it fall apart. But we can fix it up again.”

“If can, can,” she murmured, looking up at the hole she’d poked in the ceiling. Her dad just laughed.

“Fixing a roof is no big job. Me and a few guys, we get it done in a day.”

“You think Mom might want to help me get the community garden going again?”

“Shoots, you know she would.”

She thanked him again and said goodbye. Then she stood there, looking at the hole in the ceiling. A part of her wanted to rip out the rotten wood herself, right then and there. But her daughters were waiting for her outside, and she had a million things to do at home.

She could do anything, sure – but not everything all at once. There was no sense in making a mess and leaving the job unfinished, not when her dad and his crew could get the job done right in a day.

There were two warring threads in her, a fierce desire for independence and a deep gratitude for the support of her family.

She was independent enough to start her own business and educate her girls herself, but so closely tied to her family that she had never moved away from the place where she had grown up. The farthest she had ever gone was college in Hilo, not even an hour from home.

The trick was to let those two sides of herself complement each other. Her parents had only ever encouraged and supported her independence; she supposed that’s why she had never gone through a rebellious phase the way some of her friends had. Most of those friends had ended up moving off island, something that ‘ōlena could hardly imagine.

Living on the island had its challenges, but there was no place that she would rather be.