8. ‘Ōlena

‘ōlena was the first to arrive for the New Horizons community workday. It was a typical Pualena morning: clear blue skies, grass and leaves still glistening from the rain that had fallen overnight. The whole world was freshly washed and shining.

Was it any wonder that she had never wanted to live anyplace else?

She put a big bowl of mac salad on a picnic table in the shade and then stood nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot as she watched her daughters on the swings.

Plenty of people thought that fixing up the community center and running it as a local nonprofit was a great idea. But how many would actually show?

The spirit of aloha was strong in Pualena.

Punctuality, though? Not so much.

She would be glad if anyone showed up today at all.

Slowly, though, people began to arrive.

Nell was the first, carrying a loaf of banana bread all the way across town. She had her baby in a carrier on her chest, a backpack on her back, and her daughter’s hand in hers.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to the co-op this week,” she said as she put her offering on the table. “Our family only has one car, and my partner uses it to get to work. Once you’re based here at New Horizons, we’ll be able to walk.”

“You should have told me. If you want to come to the beach with us on Monday, I’ll pick you up.”

“Really?”

“Sure, we have room. At least on Mondays we do. There are other carpools in the neighborhood too. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.” Nell’s amber eyes shone with tears, overly grateful for this negligible act of kindness. ‘ōlena wondered again what her home life was like and whether she had any support system in place at all… but Nell would share those details of her life when and if she chose to.

‘ōlena looked up to see another family walking towards them, Kacie and her parents. She looked back to Nell and asked, “Have you met Georgia?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She was one of the first parents who started the co-op with me, and she’s still more involved than most.”

By the time she had introduced the two mothers, more families from the co-op were trickling in. They came well supplied and ready to work. Some started on a deep clean of the building, inside and out, while others armed with hand scythes and weed whackers set to work on the overgrown community garden.

‘ōlena’s parents came along with Kekoa and his son ‘Io, all piled into the cab of Manō’s work truck. She hurried across the field to hug her family.

“Looks like they already got started on the garden,” Mahina said.

“It’s going to take days to clear out all of those weeds,” said ‘ōlena.

Her mom smiled. “Not with this many people helping. I brought fertilizer and cuttings, and the Nakamura boy said he would pick up a truckload of mulch and bring it over this afternoon. We’re getting this garden planted today.”

“Go Grandma!” ‘Io said.

“Are you going to be my helper?”

“Sure.”

“Great. carry this bucket of manure over to the garden fence.”

“Aw man,” he groaned.

“Come on, show Tutu how strong you are.”

‘Io sighed and started carry-dragging the paint bucket of manure across the lawn.

Manō slapped his son on the shoulder. “Are we gonna do da kine or what?”

Kekoa looked at ‘ōlena. “How bad is the roof?”

“I haven’t gone up there and looked, but one of the rooms has a water damaged ceiling.”

“Probably just needs some new paint,” Manō said. “We’ve got plenty left over from our last job. Won’t take long.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Kekoa sighed and went for the ladder. “Come on, let’s go have a look.”

On a whim, ‘ōlena followed her brother up onto the roof.

It felt strange to have a birds-eye view of the park she had been coming to her whole life. If she looked the other way, she could catch a glimpse of her new house past the trees and bushes that grew all along the street. She could even see bits and pieces of Pualena’s main road, which hosted Kekoa’s shave ice place and Tenn’s cafe.

“Dad was right,” Kekoa said after tromping around the long metal roof. “It’s a few years overdue for a new coat of paint, but nothing we can’t patch up in a day.”

“It’s a good day for it.” ‘ōlena turned her face up to the sun that shone down from the clear blue sky. Then she turned to her brother and said, “If I stay up here and help you, do you think we can convince Dad to keep his feet on solid ground?”

Kekoa laughed at that. Loudly. “Sure. You want to be the one to tell him that he’s too old to be climbing up on roofs anymore?”

“Not particularly.”

“Don’t worry about Dad. He’s in better shape than you.”

She glared at him. “Thanks.”

He shoved her arm lightly – which, given that they were still standing up on the roof, still gave her nerves a jolt. “It was a compliment to Dad, not an insult to you. Are you going to help us paint or what?”

“Sure, I could do that.”

“It’ll be a while. Dad’s gonna make me pressure wash it first.”

“Good.” She scuffed at the dirty rooftop with the toe of her shoe. “It needs it.”

Back on solid ground, she went inside to check how things were going in there. A friend of her dad’s had ripped out the water-damaged piece of ceiling and was slotting in a new piece of plywood to cover the gap, having already sealed up the area where water was getting through.

“Mahalo, Uncle,” she said. “There’s food outside when you get hungry.”

Back outside, the volunteers had grown into a proper crowd. Lani was leading a team of kids and parents in covering the outside of the dingy gray building with fresh murals.

She had sketched out a lava tunnel below an ‘ōhi?a forest, and a couple of other skilled painters were helping her fill in the details. Long roots reached down through the cave, lit by the flashlight of a yet-to-be-painted explorer.

Around the corner, Kiki and Luana and the rest of the kids were painting with their hands. Lani had painted the rough outlines of a tropical garden, great green leaves and brightly colored flowers, and the kids were filling in the empty spaces with their handprints, one on top of another until the wall exploded with color.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Kekoa told their cousin.

“What?” Lani gave him a sideways glance and then looked back at the spelunkers she was painting in the lava tunnel.

“You need to paint a mural for Haumona! We’ve got that big blank wall on one side.”

“You knew she was an artist,” ‘ōlena told her brother.

“I knew she could draw. I didn’t know she could do this.”

“It’s not finished yet,” Lani said modestly, “and it’s not just me.”

“We both know that it would look even better if it was just yours. Come on, paint something for my shave ice place.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Good.”

Manō called him from up on the roof, and he sighed dramatically.

“I have some painting to do myself.”

“I’ll come help in a minute,” ‘ōlena told him. She was distracted by the sight of Nate’s truck pulling into the parking lot across the lawn.

The girls saw him a moment later and ran towards him with a chorus of, “Daddy!”

He laughed and scooped them up, heedless of the red and purple handprints that were now permanently stamped on his t-shirt.

“Nathan!” Lani put down her paintbrush and went to greet him, grinning.

“Leilani!” He set the girls down to pull her into a hug.

“I always forget how tall you are,” she laughed when he released her.

“Who, me?” Nate straightened to his full six-foot-five.

“You were always a mountain. How in the world did you ever sleep in those cruise ship bunks, anyway?”

“Not well,” he admitted. “A bit better once I got my own cabin.”

He’d helped Lani land her first job out of college, taking care of kids aboard a massive cruise ship.

That was before Luana, before he and ‘ōlena had even gotten married. Back when she was so head over heels in love with him that she’d convinced herself that having him home four months a year was still better than having any other guy year round.

The worst part was, she had been right. In the years since their divorce, she hadn’t met a single guy who could measure up to Nate. No one she would consider letting into her home or around her daughters.

She told herself that she was better off alone. But sometimes she wondered.

“Daddy, will you help us paint?” Kiki whined, pulling at his shirt.

“Please, Dad?” Luana chimed in.

“I’ve never painted a mural before,” he said.

“It’s easy!” Kiki assured him. “I’ll show you!”

“You may have noticed that the upper half of the wall is conspicuously bare,” Lani said, gesturing to the wall that had child-sized handprints all over the lower half. “Do you want to help us out with that?”

“You can pick us up!” Luana said.

“Yeah!” Kiki shouted. “Pick us up and we’ll paint!”

“Now that I can do,” he agreed. “Grab your brushes.”

“There’s no brushes!” Kiki shrieked gleefully. “We’re using our hands!”

“Grab your paint, then.”

The girls dipped their hands into the paint buckets and raised them up, dripping. Nate lifted them easily, one on each arm, and held them high so that they could attack the dingy old wall with fresh color.

“Hey sis,” Kekoa said in her ear.

She jumped and turned to glare at him.

“You’re staring at your ex,” he said with that mixture of ridicule and concern that was unique to siblings. “It’s not a good look.”

“Shut up.” She brushed past him and climbed up the ladder, ignoring the laugh that followed.