Page 14 of Big Island Summer
“Yeah!”
“Nell!” Halia greeted them across the yard. “You’re early.”
“Is that okay? I wasn’t sure how long it would take to walk over here.”
“Of course! Go ahead and get settled. I’ll round up the kids.”
Nell pushed the stroller over to the picnic tables, where Cassie entertained Everett with funny faces while she unloaded everything she had stashed in the big basket beneath Everett’s seat. The towing capacity of the thing was the reason that Nell had bought it off another mom in town whose kid had outgrown it.
When Everett was smaller, she used to carry him on her front and everything else in a backpack. But the little bruiser was at least twice as heavy as Cassie had been at his age, and carrying him everywhere had started to take a toll on Nell’s shoulders and spine.
The flowers came out first, all of the tropical cuttings that Nell had piled on top of everything else. After that, she pulled out stacks of watercolor paper and paints and brushes, all donated by ‘Olena from the supplies that she had amassed for Pualena Playschool.
“Can we help?”
Nell looked up to see two little girls watching her from across the table. They were new arrivals, and Nell’s heart twisted as she took in the circles under their eyes and the dark bruises on the older girl’s arm.
“We’re going to need some cups of water,” she told them.
“Okay!” The older girl sprinted to the outdoor kitchen with her sister right behind her.
When the kids gathered around, there were ten in total: a smattering of younger kids who ranged from anxious to excited, plus a couple of older boys whose mother had confiscated a remote-controlled car and sent them over to join the rest of the kids. They stood at the back with crossed arms and sour expressions.
“I thought we could paint some flowers together today.” Nell’s heart sped with anxious excitement. She had gotten used to managing all the playschool kids, but standing in front ofa group of unfamiliar faces was something else entirely. “Who here has used watercolors before?”
Eight hands went up – and if she had to guess, the older boys who kept their arms crossed were just making a show of sullenness.
“That’s great! Has anybody painted on wet paper before?”
“You can’t get paper wet,” said one of the younger boys. “It gets all to pieces!”
“That’s usually true! But look how thick and strong this paper is.” She handed one of the sheets of watercolor paper across the table, and a couple of the kids murmured like they were impressed. “That means that if we get it a little bit wet, we can do some fun things with the paint. I thought we could play around with the wet paper technique first and then give the flowers a try. Sound good?”
Nell had gotten the kids all set up with paint and paper and sponges by the time Everett started to cry. She picked him up out of the stroller and tried to soothe him, but he was irate that she had ignored his initial griping. Everett didn’t cry often, but when he did, hewailed. She walked some distance away from the picnic tables to spare the kids’ ears, patted Everett’s back, even tried to nurse him – but he was inconsolable.
“Here, try this.” A woman appeared at her side and offered Everett a special teether that contained frozen fruit in a mesh bag.
Everett quieted as he gnawed on it, still red-faced and hiccupping his distress.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Nell said. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” The woman’s face was familiar – she had arrived at A Place of Refuge just a couple of days before they left – but Nell couldn’t remember her name. “My baby is teething right now too.”
“It just got really bad the past few days. He handled his front teeth like a champ, but I think he has a molar coming in already.”
“Yeah, those are a beast.”
“I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Alohi.” The woman smiled, and the name clicked into place. She looked worlds better than the last time Nell had seen her.
“That’s right, of course.”
“Teacher!” a girl shrieked.
“That’s me,” Nell said, half laughing. As she moved back towards the group she said, “You’re welcome to join us.”
“You know what? That sounds great. I haven’t painted in years.”
