Page 90 of Everything We Left Behind

Hanalei, Kauai, Hawaii

They dine on the lanai under a darkening sky with the heady scent of barbecue in the air. During the meal, talk is lively between his sons and their grandmother and grandfather. Gale and Julian compare their rides on the waves; then Marc takes his turn sharing his first experience using “grown-up” paints. In between steaks cooked to perfection and ice cream for dessert, Claire enlightens the table about her travels to Italy. She became an expert at haggling over furniture prices. Other than a smile or small exclamation to acknowledge a feat Julian or Marc shares with the group, Natalya has been quiet. James also notices she intentionally sat between his sons. He’d deliberately set her plate beside his, hoping for a chance to talk with her, but she moved it to another place setting when he went back to the grill for Gale’s steak.

After dinner, Natalya kisses the kids good night and escapes to the kitchen. James takes them to their rooms and tucks them into bed, which amounts to a fist-bump and a “See ya in the morning, Pops” from Julian. Marc still wants a story. As expected, he falls asleep against James’s shoulder halfway through the book. Next time he’ll start reading from the middle so they finish the story for once.

Gale has taken Claire back to her hotel, so he goes looking for Natalya. She’s still in the kitchen, rinsing dishes. He joins her at the sink, grabs a towel, and wipes down a pot drying in the rack.

Natalya glances at him, her rubber-gloved hands elbow deep in soapy water. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”

He gives her a funny look. “I made the mess.”

“You cooked. I’ll clean. It’s how we—” She presses her lips tight and scrubs harder.

“It’s how we always do it,” James finishes for her, his tone gentle. “I’d still like to help.” He puts the pot aside and picks up another.

Natalya puts her hand on the pot, stopping him. “I’ll do it.” She glances over her shoulder. “Why don’t you grab a beer and go relax on the lanai.”

Outside, and out of the kitchen. James may be a little slow catching up on the six-plus years missing from his life, but he knows when he’s not wanted. Abandoned for years in a foreign country taught him that lesson well.

He refolds the towel and moves aside to lean against the counter. He folds his arms, crosses his ankles, and watches Natalya. She scrubs with rough, jerky movements. Moisture shines on her cheek where she scratched herself with a gloved hand. She’s rushing through the dishes and refuses to look at him. She’s obviously uncomfortable around him.

“Do you want us to leave?” he asks before he thinks better of it. He and the boys can get a hotel room for a few days. Then what? Where would they go? None of them wants to return to California, but that’s where they’ll probably end up. He should start looking at real estate listings since there’s no way he’ll stay in his parents’ old house. It holds too many memories he prefers to forget. He never liked that house.

“No ... no, I don’t want you to leave.” Natalya adds a dish to the dishwasher. “It’s just—” She scratches her forehead with the back of her hand.

“It’s just what?”

“I can’t do this.” She closes her eyes and James gets a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I thought I could but it’s too hard.” She snaps off the gloves, tosses them into the sink, and leaves him standing there, bewildered at her abrupt departure.

The front door slams. “Nat?” Gale calls.

Feet bound down the hallway.

“Nat? What’s wrong, hon?”

James pictures Gale calling down the hallway for her. He rubs his forearms; then, realizing what he’s doing because he always rubs his arms when he must make a tough decision, he rubs his face instead. Stubble scratches his palms and he groans into his hands. He was tired of feeling unsettled, and now they have to leave once again.

He should pack tonight so they can go first thing in the morning. The longer they stay, the harder it will be for Julian and Marc to leave their aunt and grandfather. Leaving Kauai is the best option, and it makes him angry. His sons will hate him all over again.

Gale saunters into the kitchen, spinning a set of keys around his index finger. He takes a long look at James. “Want a drink?”

James sighs. “Yeah.”

Gale tosses the keys on the counter, where they slide into the backsplash. He opens a cabinet. “Scotch?” he asks, showing James a bottle of Macallan.

“Sure.”

“When it comes to women, I’m not the most committed guy,” Gale says. James arches a single brow and Gale chuckles. “Ah, so Nat’s told you some stories.”

“A few,” he says, although he knew more about her father from what he read in the journals.

Gale selects two lowballs from another cabinet. “Ice?” James nods and Gale goes to the fridge. “I’m also, by no means, an expert on women.”

“What guy is?” James scoffs. He dated Aimee for a decade and there were plenty of occasions when he had no clue why she was upset with him.

Gale pushes a glass against the ice lever. The ice maker rumbles to life and cubes tumble into the glass. “Kylie, though, that’s Nat’s mom,” he clarifies. “She was my first and only. Only real love and only wife.”

He peeks over at James as he unscrews the liquor cap. “I know what you’re thinking,” he guesses. “I did love Raquel’s mom, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same with the mothers of my other kids.”

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