Page 77 of Big Island Sunset
Tara’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. There was a picture of Liam on the screen. The man was breathtaking. His hair was gray and his face was lined, but his shoulders were as broad and strong as any surfer half his age. Just looking at his picture calmed and steadied her, and his voice lifted her spirits.
“Did you come through the storm okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re fine. You?’
“Storms are never a worry up here. We tie down what needs to be tied down, and there’s nothing to worry about. No widowmakers on my property. But you? Your fence lines are all okay? No fallen branches?”
“We’re fine,” she said again. “Lots of little branches everywhere, but no real damage.”
“Good. I need to get to work, but I can come by around noon and help with cleanup.”
“Okay.” She didn’t really need the help, but the thought of seeing him made her smile. “I’ll put some soup on.”
“Sounds good. See you soon.”
Tara pocketed her phone, let herself out of the goat pen, and carried the milk up to the house. Change wasn’t easy, but she looked forward to being on the other side of it.
She wanted to face all of the small emergencies and challenges of life with Liam at her side — no more commuting between houses or trying to squeeze time together into their busy schedules. They would wake up together every day and rest together every night. Just the thought of it made her breathe easier.
Once she had put the milk away and started a simple soup cooking, she walked out to check on Ricky and Lucy. Storms had never bothered them overmuch — they had weathered enough in their decades on the island — until a tree branch went crashing into their old aviary and destroyed it. Liam had done most of the work of fixing it up again.
“What are we going to do about you?” Tara asked her macaws as she let herself into their enclosure. Ricky flew over and landed on her outstretched arm. Lucy glared at them from up in the guava tree.
Construction materials in Hawai’i were prohibitively expensive, given how far everything had to be shipped, so financially it would make more sense to dismantle their enclosure and move it piece by piece up to Liam’s ranch. She didn’t suppose whoever bought the house would have much use for an aviary. But the birds would need to live in the house or in a smaller cage while their aviary was being dismantled and reconstructed, and that would be stressful for everyone involved.
“The last time we kept you in the house, you tried to take a piece out of Cody’s arm,” she scolded the birds. “You’re half feral at this point. What am I supposed to do about you?”
Ricky nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck, and she stroked his green feathers. They were still damp from the rain.
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s not your fault. We’ll figure something out. I’ll have more time for you, once everything’s sorted. It’ll be alright.”
“They come through the storm okay?” Cody asked. She turned to see him standing just outside the aviary.
“They always do,” she replied.
“Yeah, that’s before they were emotionally scarred by the albizia trees,” Cody said as he let himself in. “We didn’t see Ricky for a week.”
“It will be good to get away from those trees,” Tara said cautiously. Lucy walked out along one of the branches of the guava tree until she flapped down to Cody’s shoulder, where she perched and ran her beak affectionately through his overgrown hair.
“I guess.” He sighed, looking around at their little family farm.
“It’s just too much work for me anymore.” Tara could hear the pleading note in her voice, and she did her best to calm it. “It was one thing when your dad was supporting us financially. But trying to run a small business and run this place… I’ve tried my best, Cody, but it’s too much for me to handle on my own. I’m running myself into the ground.”
He gave her a wounded look. “You don’t have to do it all on your own.”
“You’re going to have less time to help me now,” she reminded him gently, “not more. And that’s how it should be. I’m grateful for everything that you’ve done, but you never should have had to shoulder so much.”
“I don’t mind it,” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry for springing this on you. For making it an announcement instead of a discussion.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Does that mean that there’s room for discussion?”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but I really do think that it’s the best thing for all of us.”
Cody nodded, looking glum. He scanned their backyard — their huge and unmanageable property, their tiny unprofitable farm — and she knew that he was reliving a lifetime of memories. All of the baby animals they had seen born right there. All of the birthday parties and celebrations and harvests and deaths.
“I know this place is a lot of work,” he said soberly, “but it’s our whole life.”
