5. ‘Ōlena

5

‘ōlena

T he morning was cool, but blue skies promised a hot day.

‘ōlena was outside working, trying to get her weeding done while there was still shade, when her dad's truck pulled up out front. She brushed the dirt off of her hands and stood to greet her parents as they walked up the front path.

"Those hibiscus are looking good," Mahina said.

"No flowers yet," ‘ōlena said as she hugged her.

"No, but they look healthy. They're growing fast." Her face lit up as the front door creaked open. "Like these girls!"

"Tutu!" Kiki threw her arms around her grandmother and buried her face in Mahina's soft belly.

"Who's this little opihi?" she teased.

"It's me, Tutu!"

"I hardly recognized you. You're so grown up!"

‘ōlena laughed and shook her head. Anybody would think that they hadn't seen each other for months, the way they carried on. In reality, she and the girls rarely went a day without seeing her parents, even now that they had moved into their own little house.

Luana ran past them and crashed into Manō, nearly knocking him down with the enthusiasm of her hug. The familiar sound of his laughter wrapped around them like a warm blanket.

"Careful," ‘ōlena cautioned, but her dad scoffed.

"I'm not so old she has to worry about knocking me over."

"Maybe not, but what if she made you drop the malasadas?"

"You brought donuts?" Kiki shrieked.

"Not dough nuts," he enunciated, feigning horror. "Malasadas!"

"Malasadas are just island kine donuts," Luana said, and her grandfather laughed. "But did you bring some?"

"It's Sunday! Didn't your tutu promise you malasadas on Sunday?"

"We forgot!" Kiki clapped her hands together joyfully. "That made it a surprise!"

Manō climbed the steps and set the box down on the table by the door. "What kine you like?"

"Is there chocolate?"

He winked at her and pulled out one of the pillowy pastries. Kiki took a huge bite, and chocolate custard exploded all over her face. ‘ōlena just laughed, grateful that they'd opened the box out on the lanai.

"Lulu?" He put his arm around Luana. "You want one malasada?"

"Did you get the guava kine?"

"Did I get the guava," he scoffed, plucking another one from the box and handing it to her.

"Mahalo!" she said as she snatched it out of his hands. Kiki tried to say the same, but her mouth was full of fried dough and chocolate custard.

‘ōlena was glad that they would be off with their grandparents for the duration of the sugar rush. It had been a long week, and she was tired. Mahina noticed her fatigue, and as soon as the girls finished their malasadas, she herded them towards the truck.

"Am I picking them up?" ‘ōlena asked.

"Come by around five," Mahina said over her shoulder, her voice raised over the noise of the girls chattering to their grandpa. "I'll make dinner."

"Mahalo!"

Mahina waved her thanks away and loaded the girls into Manō's big truck.

They drove away, and ‘ōlena relaxed into the relative silence of her empty yard. The air was thick with birdsong, and the faint sound of keiki playing at the park filtered through the trees, but that was the white noise of Pualena.

She took a deep breath, savoring the peace for a moment, and then she went back to weeding.

Her tranquil morning yard work was interrupted when another truck pulled up – Nate's, this time. Irritation flared in her chest as he strode across the grass – this was her one day to herself – but he looked so happy to see her that she pushed it back down.

He kissed her soundly, and the rest of her irritation died away.

"The girls aren't here," she told him.

"One of these days, you're going to stop saying that every time you see me." He sighed at her puzzled frown and said, "I know they're not here. That's why I came by."

"You've been talking to my parents?"

"When they came up to the land last weekend, they said they would be taking the girls on Sundays. That's the plan, yeah? Now that you're not living with them?"

"That's the plan."

"So, I thought we could do something together."

She chewed her lip, caught between his eagerness and the quiet day at home that she had been looking forward to all week. Nate sensed her hesitation and his enthusiasm died back; he looked hurt.

"We've hardly been alone together since I got back," he said.

"I told you that I want to take things slow."

"Slow would be fine. But are we going anywhere at all?"

‘ōlena let out a huff of exasperation and turned away from him. She had half a mind to walk into the house and lock the door behind her, but she paused on the steps. What exactly had he done that was so bad? Ask to spend the day with her?

She turned back to face him and sat down on the steps. He walked closer but stayed standing, hands in his pockets like a little boy anticipating a scolding.

"I just wish you'd said something," she told him. "I have a million things to do today."

"You deserve a break."

"Sometimes getting chores done without the girls underfoot feels like a break."

His shoulders slumped and he looked down, kicking at a bit of nothing on the grass.

She felt like a shrew.

"I thought you had to work today," she said.

"I've got those kids running the stand for me, Emma's niece and Tara's son. They're pretty good. Hard workers. More than I expected from a couple of teenagers. If they turn out to be reliable, it's a home run."

"Good. That's good."

He took a step closer, his expression quizzical. "I thought we could jump in the ocean. Maybe go surf Honoli‘i?"

The thought of driving anywhere exhausted her. There was a mountain of dirty dishes inside, just begging the roaches to move in, and her hibiscus flowers around back were drowning in weeds. She was trying to make a home for her girls, a real home, and Nate just wanted to take off and play.

Had anything really changed?

"Lei?" When she didn't respond, he came and sat with her on the steps. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on! I just can't take off to the beach at a moment's notice. The house is a mess–"

"Leave the house," he said with a grin. "It'll keep."

"You don't get it! It's not just the house. It's bookkeeping for the co-op and weeding the yard and washing the girls' clothes so they have something to wear tomorrow."

"Okay, okay, I get it."

"No you don't! You haven't been here. You don't know what it takes to keep everything running, not really. It's so much work, Nate. All the time."

"You think I don't know hard work?"

"I think you were out on cruise ships while I was doing all the work of raising our girls," she said, years of buried resentment coming to the surface.

He gaped at her. "I was working twelve, fourteen hours a day! Saving up so I could make something of myself, build something for our girls."

"Okay, so you were working twelve hours a day. And then what? Running around the ports, drinking with your buddies? I was working twenty-four seven, Nathan. No breaks. And you weren't here."

"I came back whenever I could."

"It wasn't enough."

"I thought you were okay. You're so strong. You had your parents…"

"We moved in with my parents so that I could survive. I was there with them and the girls while you were out with other women–"

"Is that what this is about? You're mad I went on a few dates?"

"No!" But the thought of it burned a hole in her chest, even now. "Maybe. I don't know."

" You divorced me ," he ground out. "I was heartbroken."

She shook her head and looked away.

"‘ōlena, we were divorced for five years. What did you expect?"

"I don't know. I guess–" She laughed, but the sound of it was bitter. "I guess I thought I'd get over you at some point. Meet someone else, someone who was actually here . But I never did."

"Never got over me?" His voice was soft now. "Or never met someone else?"

"Both. Neither." She had never been with anyone else, never felt that spark with anyone else. Nate was the only man she had ever wanted… even when she also wanted to smack him upside the head.

"I'm sorry I didn't fight for you," he told her. "When you served me with divorce papers… I thought you were done with me. I thought that you must have found someone else."

She laughed brokenly. "Why do men always think that?"

"If I'd known that there was still a chance, I wouldn't have signed them. I would have fought for us. That's what I'm doing now. I'm here now. "

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just… an adjustment. I guess I've gotten used to being alone. Parenting alone."

He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. "Lei, you're the only woman I've ever loved."

Tears burned her eyes and she squeezed them shut, but they fell anyway. She hated that he could make her cry with a few simple words.

"You and our daughters are my whole world. I'm not letting go of you again. Whatever struggles we have, we'll figure them out. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

He kissed her hands and grinned. She steeled herself against another bid for a beach day and then wondered if she should just give in.

What he said next moved her more than any of his declarations of love.

"So. What needs doing today? Put me to work."

"You want to do the dishes?" she asked, half joking.

He nodded once and stood. "On it."

‘ōlena stared after him as he walked inside. "For reals?"

"Shoots!" he shouted back over his shoulder. "If we can finish these chores quick enough, maybe you'll jump in the ocean with me."

She laughed and shook her head as she went back to weeding. But there was a new warmth in her chest, and something else too. A growing trust.

The roots were there. They always had been, even after the plant aboveground died back and ‘ōlena hacked it away. Those memories – of their shared childhood, their youthful romance, the early years of their marriage – had always been there, biding their time.

And now all those old feelings were growing back up again, fast as a tropical plant.

Trust, desire… love.