Page 37 of Big Island Horizons
She had other ideas that incorporated the ingredients that they used every day. One showed a field of sugarcane with orchards in the background, all overlooking the ocean like the farms up north did. Another was more cartoonish and childlike, with a rainbow-striped cup of shave ice at the center and a rainbow of different fruits radiating outward across the wall.
Using the colored pencils that she had swiped from Rory, she colored in the jumble of oranges andliliko’ithat were scattered across the second wedge of color.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called.
Lani looked up from her sketchbook with a start.
“Anyone home?”
“Here I am.” She hurried to the front window. “Sorry, I was just working in the back.”
A family of tourists stood looking at the menu posted on the outside of the building. It was a big group, one of the multi-generational family vacations that came through so often. This group was burned various shades of pink. They looked tired.
“Whatisshave ice?” asked one of the older kids. “Is it the same as a snow cone?
“Kind of,” Lani said. “It’s like a snow cone but better. The ice is shaved so fine that you don’t get any big pieces with no flavor like snow cones have sometimes. And all of our syrups are made in house, mostly from fruit grown on the island.”
The girl scrutinized the menu with a frown. “And you put the snow cone on top of ice cream?”
“Sometimes, yeah. But you don’t have to get ice cream if you don’t want to.”
“Ionlywant ice cream,” said one of the younger kids.
“You’re missing out,” a grandma warned.
“I don’t care! I want ice cream!”
“I’ll try the shave ice,” the older girl said. “Which flavor’s your favorite?”
“If I had to pick just one…” Lani trailed off, thinking. “I’d have to go withliliko’i.”
“That means passion fruit?”
“Yep!”
“I’ll try it.”
By the time she had served the whole group, it was time to turn off the burners on the stove so that the simmering syrups could start to cool. She wiped down the counters and then washed the bowls that came in from the big group. A few more people came through, and then she had time to draw again.
She had just finished coloring the yellow wedge of the sketch, all pineapples and lemons, when a tingle of apprehension ran up her spine and down her arms. Slowly, in defiance of the freeze instinct that was tightening over her muscles, she looked up at the front window.
Zeke was there, staring at her.
When her eyes met his, he grinned, slow and catlike.
“Looking good, Lani.”
She hated the way her name sounded in his mouth.
“Where’s our girl at?”
Anger sparked deep in her chest. It grew slowly, burning away her fear. She would not let this man anywhere near her daughter. Never again.
“Surprised to see me?”
“What are you doing here?” She stood and walked towards the window, stopping just out of reach.
“I came to see my wife,” he drawled.
