Kekoa wasnotmarried. He was completely unattached, as far as she knew. That made her feelings harder to ignore. But still, she tried.
That was the wisest course of action, surely.
She lived on his parents’ land, in the house that he had built. Auntie Mahina treated Mia like just another grandchild. If they started something and it didn’t work out, the fallout would be too complicated.
But what if it did work out?
She shoved that thought aside again and again – but it kept popping back up.
Sometimes, hope could be as stubborn as a weed.
Laurie took a deep breath and refocused on the document in front of her. It was a dry assignment, a memoir written by a man who had never done much of anything – but he was paying her double what she usually charged, and so she forged ahead.
Some time later, the wooden boards beneath her feet vibrated with a steady drumbeat. She looked up from her screen to find Mia waving at her through the wooden railing of the lanai.
It’s almost dark,she told her daughter.You should come inside.
“Auntie Mahina’s making popcorn for a movie night with Kiki and Lulu and ‘Io,” Mia said and signed. “I’m invited but she said to ask my mom. Can I go? Please?”
Sure,Laurie signed reluctantly.
She loved their cozy evenings together just the two of them, but she didn’t begrudge her time with her friends. She was glad that Mia was so loved and held by their community.
Thank you!Mia signed.
Come home as soon as the movie’s done.
OK!She turned and ran off through the garden.
Laurie sighed and went back to her work. Then a dark shape loomed in her peripheral vision, and her head snapped up again.
“Burning the midnight oil?” Kekoa asked, walking into the circle of light cast by one weak bulb above her head.
“It’s not exactly midnight,” Laurie said.
“Might as well be.” He smiled goodnaturedly as he sat down on the top step. “Once the sun’s down, I’m ready for bed.”
“What are you doing here, then?” She left her chair and went to sit next to him, angling her body towards his so that she could still read his lips.
“I’ve got your new drive belt. Or – you do, actually. I just put it into your car.”
Laurie felt her face soften as her frown of concern melted into a smile.
“Thank you.”
“No big thing.”
“It is, though.” She held his eyes – and for once, he was the first one to look away.
“Could have been,” he conceded. “If it broke up on the saddle road or something. But putting in a new one ahead of time was easy enough.”
“I appreciate you.” Laurie reached out and took his hand.
Kekoa froze, looking down at their hands. Her slender fingers looked so delicate next to his broad, calloused palm.
Her hand was pale after so many months in the bookshop, almost ghostly against his warm brown skin.
She didn’t want to be a ghost anymore. She didn’t want her entire life to be about other people’s stories.