Page 39 of Big Island Sunrise
“You can name the chickens,” she suggested.
“That one’s Myrtle,” Kai said, pointing to the tousled gray hen that stood some distance from the others. “But you can name the rest of them.”
“Okay!” Rory jumped to her feet, which made the hens scatter. But they were back a moment later, walking cautiously forward, hopeful for more worms. She pointed to another gray hen, darker and more monotone than Myrtle. “That one is Bluey. And that red one is Bingo. And that’s Muffin…”
Kai stood and looked down at Lani. “I’m going to go get some food for Dio.”
She smiled and gave him the thumbs up.
“Mama!” Rory stomped her foot. “Are you even listening?”
She looked back at her. “I’m listening!”
“That one’s Muffin.” She pointed, frowned, and then pointed to an identical chicken. “No, wait, that one’s Muffin. And that one is Socks.” She paused her litany of chicken names and collapsed into Lani’s lap, muddy and content.
“Hey Mama?”
“Yeah?”
“I like it here.”
“Me too, baby. I like it here too.”
12
Emma
Shoveling manure under the tropical sun was not how Emma pictured spending this stage of her life.
As strange as it was to be mucking out a goat pen in the middle of the Pacific, the truly surprising thing was how satisfying the work was.
She had taken to wearing John’s old coveralls, sturdy things that had once been navy blue but had faded almost to a light gray over the years. The sun beat down on the top of her head, warming the bandana that she used to keep sweat out of her eyes. The muck boots that she’d bought at the farm store were a lifesaver when the yard turned muddy.
The goat paddock was overdue for a good mucking out. One wheelbarrow at a time, she transferred the round droppings and fallen feed out to the ever-hungry banana trees. The tropical heat and humidity alchemized things so quickly that she didn’t bother with dedicated compost piles. They simply dumped their kitchen waste in low spots or at the base of trees, and the scraps turned to soil almost overnight.
“Mom!” Kai waved his arms at her from the other side of the gate in an impatient little dance. “Hey Mom!”
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“I can’t find Dio!”
“Did you check the gate?”
“Which gate?”
“The front gate!”
“Oh. No. I’ll go check!” He raced off, gravel spraying out from under his shoes as he rounded the side of the house.
Emma took a breath and set her shovel aside. Where had Dio gotten through now?
She had used every bit of scrap metal laying around the property to patch up slumped and broken bits of fencing. The whole boundary line was a strange quilt of corrugated tin and heavy vines. And he still kept finding new ways to escape.
Their new puppy had escaped about a dozen times in the past few days, and every time he either came right back into the yard a minute later or circled around to the front gate and sat waiting to be let in. He seemed to enjoy identifying weaknesses in their perimeter, but he had no desire to leave this newfound haven of regular meals and cozy places to sleep.
She looked at the fence line for a minute, wondering what she had missed. Maybe she would walk the whole property boundary later. Or give Kai the job of tailing the dog and watching to see where he could still get out.
For now, she had a wheelbarrow full of high-quality fertilizer to feed the ten-foot papayas that were scattered here and there around the property. She pushed the wheelbarrow out of the goat paddock and closed the gate behind her.
