Page 72 of Big Island Sunset
She turned off the burner on the stove and poured herself a cup of tea, taking long breaths all the while to try and calm her nerves.
There was nothing for her to do but wait out the storm.
Worrying wouldn’t help anything. Plants could be replaced. Roofs could be patched.
The backyard stream that had popped up overnight would disappear within a day. Their home was built a few feet off the ground for just that reason, and the volcanic rock below them allowed the water to drain quickly. There was no real danger.
“Auntie Em?” Juniper came into the kitchen and frowned at her through the gloom; Emma hadn’t bothered turning on a light. “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. You too?”
“The rain on the tin roof is so loud I can’t even hear myself think.” Jun’s tower room was the loudest in the house on stormy nights, fully exposed to the driving rain on all sides. “Anyway, I need to eat.”
“Let me make you something. Here, have a cup of tea.” Emma poured her a cup of the golden mamaki tea that she had brewed and then cut off a big piece of sourdough bread.
Juniper accepted the tea with a word of thanks and settled onto the couch in the living room. She turned on an old table lamp that gave off a calm golden glow.
When Emma brought her niece the piece of toast with lilikoi butter, she found her knitting round and round the edge of a flat circle. The yarn was a mix of different shades of green, much like the world outside the door when the sun was shining.
“A baby blanket?” she guessed, setting the plate down on the coffee table.
Jun gave her a shy sideways smile and nodded.
“It’s beautiful.” She reached out to touch the fabric, which was silky soft against her hands. It was a fine yarn, both in terms of thickness and quality.
“Remember Beth from the yarn shop in Redwood Grove?” Jun asked.
Emma nodded. She tried not to let the pain that shot through her show on her face.
She and Adam had taken knitting classes together after Juniper had begged them for weeks to join her at the yarn shop. First the other firefighters had teased Adam for taking on such a granny-like hobby… and then, within a few weeks, they were all knitting too.
Emma hadn’t touched needles or yarn since Adam died. Somewhere in Redwood Grove was a half-finished sweater that she had been making him for Christmas.
The anniversary of his death loomed a few weeks away. She tried not to think about it. So much had happened since then; it felt like decades, sometimes, since she had lost him.
…and at other times, when the memories popped up clear and bright, it felt like days.
“She sent me a box of yarn when I told her I was pregnant,” Juniper continued. Emma wrenched her attention back to the present moment, feeling dizzy and distraught. Luckily Juniper’s attention was on her knitting. “This one is merino wool mixed with silk.”
“It’s lovely,” Emma said, refocusing on the growing circle of a blanket.
“You never knit anymore,” Jun said, looking up.
Emma acknowledged her words with a tiny nod.
“Want to do a few rounds while I eat my toast?” She offered her the work in progress. “It’s really easy. Just a knit stitch until you get to the markers, and then you increase like this, watch.”
Juniper worked her way around to the next plastic circle and then showed her how to add another stitch on either side.
Emma accepted the project and began to knit while Juniper ate.
It had been a year since she had last held a pair of needles, but she was surprised by how quickly it came back to her. Almost immediately, she fell into a rhythm. It soothed the ragged edges of her soul almost as well as gardening did, which made it an excellent stand-in for stormy nights when her transplants were drowning.
She tried to hand the blanket back to her niece when she’d finished eating, but Jun encouraged her to keep going. While Emma went round and round the growing circle of the blanket, Jun produced another pair of needles and started a much more finicky project: tiny baby booties. They sat there for a long time, knitting in the mellow light of the lamp while the storm raged outside.
After Juniper completed the first bootie, she set her needles aside with a yawn.
“You should try to get some more sleep,” Emma told her.
