“I wouldn’t doubt it. That was some accident. What a fluke for a missile to go astray and hit a boat.” His voice grew thick. “Laban was in the wrong place.” He put the dish of mango on the table.
“I’m sorry, Bane.” Kaia put her hand on his shoulder and he nodded.
“Someone needs to call his mother.”
“Let’s go see our grandfather. He may already have done it.”
“I doubt it.”
“I know.” Ever since she could remember, her grandfather never talked about anything unpleasant. His mission in their lives was to make up for what their mother had done. He turned a blind eye to unpleasantness.
Bane went to the sink and opened the dishwasher. “These clean?”
“Don’t they look clean?”
“Just checking.” He dug a fork out of the dishwasher and sat at the table then began to eat his mango. Kaia began to empty the dishwasher.
He might make fun of her housekeeping, but she’d done a great job of decorating her small home, she thought. Her collection of Hawaiian art was shown off to advantage by the pale lemon walls. Tile floors added to the beach-house feel, as did the high ceilings and the gauzy curtains at the windows. It might be a little messy today, but it wasn’t as bad as what Bane made out. She liked her little home.
Too bad she never had much time to enjoy it.
“Have you heard anything about your next assignment?” Her brother loved his job as an oceanographer, and she knew his hiatus would make him restless in the coming weeks.
He shook his head. “The ship repairs should be done in a month. I hope they stay on schedule. In the meantime, I’ll get to bug you and Tutu kane.”
“And Mano.”
“I doubt we’ll see much of him.”
“He was excited to hear you’d be staying at least a month. You’re too hard on him, Bane.” Kaia watched him rub this thick black hair and look away. Bane sometimes forgot how his intensity affected those who loved him. His black-and-white perspective allowed little room for life’s gray areas.
“I’ll try to watch what I say,” Bane said finally.
Kaia nodded. It was best not to rely too much on Bane’s comment. For one thing, she would be surprised if he followed through. Sometimes she wondered if Bane saw his teenage self in Mano. Though Mano was thirty-two, he was one of those men who looked at life as something to be conquered.
They all carried the scars of what their mother had done. Bane said Kaia threw herself into her dolphin studies to show she was worthy, he traveled to forget, and Mano laughed at danger to prove it didn’t hurt.
Her brother was too perceptive sometimes.
“You’re thinking too much,” Bane said. “Whenever you get that look on your face, I know you’re wondering where she is.”
“I don’t care where she is.”
“You care. We all care, but we can’t change what happened. If we found her, maybe we could all move on and shed the crazy things that drive us. I’ve been thinking about trying to locate her.”
Kaia shut the dishwasher with more force than she intended. “I couldn’t stand it. Another rejection would be more than I could take.” Kaia scooped up Hiwa, who had wandered back to the kitchen. Cuddling the cat helped soothe the woeful feelings that always accompanied the mention of her mother.
Bane’s dark eyes softened, and he got up and took his empty plate to the sink. “She might have grown up, Kaia.”
“Let’s drop it,” she said. “Tutu kane will be wondering where we are.” She put the cat on the floor and went to the door.
Bane followed her. “You need to get some sleep. Me too. I’m beat.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead. Besides, I want to check on Nani. Last night was stressful for her.” She led the way to the steps cut into the rock outside her front door. The railing was rusty but still sturdy, which was a good thing because the stairs were steep. She used them nearly every day.
She hurried down the steps to her grandfather’s cottage in the jungle just off the beach. After Hurricane ′Iniki, the family had tried to talk Tutu kane into moving, but he’d repaired the house and moved right back in. She had to admit, she loved having him just a few steps away.
The aroma of roast pig wafted on the morning breeze and reminded Kaia of the lu’au tonight. Every Friday her grandfather hosted a lu’au on the beach for a local hotel. Dressed in his Hawaiian chieftain finery, he was a sight to behold, and most visitors came to get a look at him rather than for the outstanding food.
Her grandfather, Oke Kohala, still as fit as he was in his years as a pearl diver, sat on the sand making a sandcastle. Dressed in shorts and a red and yellow Hawaiian-print shirt, he didn’t look seventy-eight, in spite of his white hair.
Kaia joined him on the sand and bent down to kiss him, inhaling the aroma from the cloves he perpetually had in his mouth. “Where’s Mano?”