Page 68 of Big Island Sunrise
“Same.”
“Thanks for watching Rory.”
“Anytime.”
Kai devoured his shave ice in a flash while Rory took her time, taking tiny bites and trying to eat each flavor separately. He watched her for a minute with evident frustration before wandering over to the edge of the parking lot to kick rocks.
“Not towards the cars,” Emma told him.
“I know!”
She sighed and took another bite of her shave ice. The flavors were bright enough to cut through the haze of the day. Theliliko’iwas tart and flavorful, almost overwhelming the mellow sweetness of the soursop. Lani had drizzled both sides liberally with ginger, and it all came together beautifully.
“Mom?” Kai called to her from over by the dumpsters. He was pulling at pieces of cardboard, scattering them everywhere.
“Kai, stay out of the trash!”
“Mom, I hear something!” His voice was urgent.
Emma stood and walked over, but all she could hear was the scraping of cardboard as he continued scattering the boxes that had been stacked by the side of the building.
“Stop.” She put a hand on his arm, but he shook her off.
“I can’t,” he said, frantic now.
“Just wait a second, let me listen.”
He dropped a box and paused, looking up at her face. She strained to hear and there it was, faint as could be: the distinctive cries of very young kittens.
“Oh no.” She looked over to the window that Lani worked out of, but she was busy with a big family of tourists.
“Is it kittens?” Kai asked.
“Sounds like it. Okay.” She grabbed one of the bigger boxes and moved it aside. “Carefully. Go slow.”
The cries grew louder, partially because they were moving layers aside and probably also because the kittens could hear them. At the very bottom of the pile, she found an old cardboard filing box with a lid.
She lifted the top off, and there they were. Five young kittens crying in distress. One tiny white runt, one fuzzy black kitten, two black with white markings, and one striped orange kitten who bared his tiny teeth and hissed at her.
Any one of them was small enough to stand on her outstretched hand.
Their squeaking screams were made all the more pathetic by their appearance. They were half starved and scraggly, with goopy eyes. The smallest kitten’s eyes were completely crusted shut.
“What’s wrong with them?” Kai asked.
“They’re sick,” she told him.
“Can we help them?”
“I guess we have to.” She didn’t suppose that the overcrowded shelters on the island were any friendlier to ragged kittens than they were to stray dogs.
“How?” The kittens were so visibly ill that even Kai looked daunted.
“With lots of love. And medicine. And a flea bath,” she added as she watched fat, shiny bugs leap from one kitten to another.
Rory ran up and gasped loudly. “Babies! Can we keep them?”
“For a little while.”
