Page 3 of Betrayed Kidnapped Mate

“That’s it! Back foot first! Back foot first, Kaila!”

I watch as Kaila crests the wave and, once again, tries to plant both of her feet on her board at the same time. She topples over into the waves. I watch for one second, then two, and then relief floods through my system when she pops back up, a smile plastered on her face. She grabs her board and makes her way over to me.

“Did you see that?” she asks, wringing her hair. “I got so close that time! I nearly had it!”

“Kaila,” I say, brushing a bit of sand from her cheek. “You’re just too little to try and use that technique. You just have to wait for your legs to get a bit long. I really don’t think it’s possible.”

She rolls her eyes at me—something she’s just started doing that I hate. At seven years old, Kaila has a spunky personality. I know she didn’t get it from me—Olivia is the one to blame for that.

I have Kaila bring her board up to the house. When she stopped taking my coaching advice, I stopped carrying her board. I give her a fond smile as she chats the entire way up to the house.

“But you didn’t feel it, Mom. I was so close. My foot was there. It just slipped.”

I roll my eyes at her—then stop, thinking that maybe she did get that bad habit from me. Holding the door open for her, I help her brush some sand off her board, which we leave on the screened-off porch, before heading inside.

Inside, the house smells spectacular. Olivia stands by the stove, her soft pink hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She’s constantly changing its color, moving from hue to hue with the seasons. Right now, she’s feeling pink.

“What’s for dinner?” Kaila asks, popping her head over the side of the stove to see what Olivia is stirring. Olivia plants her hand on the top of Kaila’s head, pushing her back.

“Absolutely nothing until you go rinse off. You stink.”

Kaila giggles before turning around and running to the bathroom.

“Walk!” Olivia and I call at the same time. I quickly assess the situation, determined that Olivia was making chicken tacos, and grab an avocado from the basket to make a quick mango guacamole.

“Oh,” she says, glancing over at me. “Good idea.”

She takes the rice off the burner, cutting some fresh cilantro and mixing it in before placing a lid on the pot. Then, she takes the chicken over to the other side of the sink, where she shreds it.

Olivia has been here since day one with Kaila and me. She insisted on coming with me when I showed up at her apartment to tell her I was leaving. I thought it would wear off when she realized we would be in hiding in perpetuity, or if not, then, when she realized a baby is all work and no sleep. But she’s stuck by my side through everything.

Kaila sometimes calls her Aunt Olivia, but the two have something of a sibling-esque relationship, teasing each other and sometimes calling on me for mediation. Olivia acts like Kaila’s big sister, which I appreciate.

Kaila still hasn’t asked why she doesn’t get to go to public school with other kids, and I dread the day I have to explain our situation to her. Whenever I think about it, my heart swells with guilt and regret. I wish, more than anything, that Kaila could have a different childhood. A better childhood.

Sure, being a few steps away from the beach is pretty good, and between Olivia and I, we’re able to home-school her in any subject. But Kaila won’t have a typical childhood experience if things stay the same. She won’t go to homecoming or prom, won’t stay up all night with her friends before a field trip, won’t develop an embarrassing crush, and will have to pass that person in the hallway every day.

“Dinner,” Olivia says, breaking me out of my reverie, “is served!”

Kaila has re-appeared in the kitchen, her hair looking soft and brushed-out. She’s wearing a simple towel-dress, which is her normal house attire. She’s usually wet from either the ocean or a shower after the ocean.

We sit down together and pile out tortillas high with the chicken and guacamole, and Kaila regales Olivia with the story of how she almost got both her feet on the surfboard at once. Over her shoulder, I shake my head, which Kaila catches.

“Hey!” she says, “I know Mom is saying no, but it’s true. I was so close. I could feel it.”

“Well, I—” Olivia starts to say, but then there’s a knock at the door.

Quickly, I stand from the chair, moving out of the kitchen with Kaila in front of me. She knows the drill for when someone comes to the door. After Kaila and I are in the basement, I light a few candles, and I hear Olivia open the door.

“Sorry,” I hear her say, “I was just sitting down to supper.”

“This is from Bernice Justine,” the person says, and I put my hand over my mouth when I hear my mother’s name. Kaila looks at me quizzically, but I shake my head at her. She knows better than to make any noise when there’s someone at the door.

“Rosa?” Olivia calls after the door shuts upstairs. “They’re gone. You need to read this.”

I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and stop in front of Olivia, taking the note from her hands. Opening it, my eyes read hungrily.

My dearest love,

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