Page 71 of Big Island Sunset
“You should say it,” Jun said with quiet conviction. “If it’s true, you should say it.”
“We’re taking things slow.”
“Co-parenting isn’t exactly taking things slow.”
Fern laughed at Juniper’s dry humor. “Like I said. Life is messy.”
“Does it have to be?” Juniper asked with a frown.
“Maybe not.” Fern rose to get a washcloth and went back to clean Theo’s face. “I could opt out. I could teach my classes and live alone in my tiny home and hike and swim and be happy enough, I guess. But when we opt out of the mess, we opt out of the best parts of life. I would miss this little guy something fierce. And I’d miss your dad, too. I like my life a lot better with them in it, mess and all.”
Juniper reflected on that for a while, and then she looked up at Fern with a steady gaze. “Everyone thinks that keeping thisbaby is a bad idea because it will be hard. But difficult isn’t the same thing as bad. All of the best things in life are hard, I think.”
“Maybe it’s not that the best things in life are hard,” Fern said slowly, trying to find her way through her own tangled thoughts as she washed the puree from Theo’s chubby little hands. “I think there’s a lot to be said for creating a life full of ease and peace and joy. But it’s true that some of the best things in life are on the other side of hard decisions. And meaningful, lasting relationships will always include seeing the people we care about through hard times.”
The door opened then, and Ethan came in carrying a bag from the hardware store. He was visibly surprised to see Juniper there, but his face broke into a huge grin at finding the three of them together.
“Hello there!” he greeted them as he closed the door. “What’s all this?”
“We were just discussing the meaning of life,” Jun said flippantly. She stood and scooped Theo out of his high chair. “You two eat. Teddy and I are going to read some board books.”
She disappeared into the nursery, and Ethan looked at Fern in surprise.
“The kids are alright,” she assured him with a smile. “Do you want some stew?”
He crossed the kitchen and kissed her soundly. “You’re a miracle. Do you know that?”
Fern grinned at him. “I know.”
22
Emma
Emma lay wide awake beneath her quilts as the storm beat against her windows. The rain seemed to be falling sideways, driven by a fierce wind.
Toni was gone, back to her life in California. Emma felt relieved to be free of the extra houseguest… and guilty for feeling relieved. Her sister meant well, and she had been a big help to Jun at the markets. But her being there had only further inflamed the situation with Ethan, which had eased up again after she went home.
He seemed to be adjusting to the idea of becoming a grandfather, albeit reluctantly. Still, he had reacted better than their own parents. Emma could see how hard he tried. She respected him for showing up for Juniper again and again, even as he flailed and fumbled.
The wind picked up even more, howling like a pack of wolves.
Storms were different there, with so many living things to worry about. The dog and cat were safe, both curled up on Kai’s bed as he slept through the wailing wind and the cracking of limbs outside. The goats had a decent shelter, and the birds always seemed to come through okay.
She was more worried about her plants, all the seedlings and tiny tomatoes that would get pummeled and drowned by the pouring rain.
Eventually, she gave up on sleep.
She wandered downstairs into the kitchen, where the clock on the stove read 3:03. She stepped onto the lanai and flicked the porch light on, but all she could see was a small river rushing past the house. Sheets of rain obscured the rest of the property from view; she would have to wait until the sun rose and the storm calmed before she could inspect the damage.
Back in the kitchen, she put a few mamaki leaves into a small pot and filled it with water. While the water simmered, she paced the kitchen restlessly.
She used to love storms. Back home in the California redwoods, she loved to curl up with a book while the rain fell outside. There was no danger that those giants would fall; they stood guard and soaked up the water, drinking their fill before the long dry summer.
The tropics were something else entirely.
In Pualena, the albizia trees grew as tall as redwoods in just a few decades. But they had none of the same strength. The widow-makers dropped branches with reckless abandon. There were no towering albizia trees directly adjacent to the Kealoha place, but she worried for her friends and neighbors.
As the house groaned and creaked around her, she worried about her own patched-up roof and the questionably security of the goat shed. Those desert animals were never meant for the tropics. What were they even doing here?
