“He called, and he’s on his way.” Her grandfather stood and dusted the sand from his hands. He pointed to the porch chairs. “Have a seat.”
Bane moved toward the chairs, and Kaia followed. “We wanted to make sure you knew what happened.” Bane dropped into a chair then sprang to his feet when a loud whoopee pierced the air. He went sprawling on the sand in his haste to escape.
Tutu kane laughed, his face as expressive as a child’s. Kaia giggled, her fatigue dropping away at the expression of horror on her brother’s face.
“Where’d you get that?” His smile feeble, Bane picked up the cushion.
“Mano bought it for me yesterday.” Still chuckling, their grandfather took the cushion from Bane and tucked it under his arm. “He bet me a shave ice that I couldn’t get Bane to sit on it.”
Bane managed a weak smile then sat gingerly back in the chair, sans cushion.
Still chuckling at the pleasure in her grandfather’s face, Kaia sat beside him. “I have a feeling Mano is going to pay for this.”
“I’m glad to see you and know that you are both okay,” their grandfather said. “Any idea what happened? The news this morning was still pretty sketchy.”
Bane shook his head. “Kaia and I were talking about how it almost looked deliberate. But the navy wouldn’t have tried to take out a pleasure craft.”
Her grandfather put his big hand on Kaia’s shoulder. “I see the self-recrimination in your face. You always think you can fix everything. This wasn’t your fault.”
She sighed. “I keep wishing we’d been closer, that I was there sooner. At least five people died. We’re pretty sure . . .” She stopped and her gaze went to her brother. He gave a slight nod. “We can’t find Laban.”
Her grandfather’s smile leaked away. “It was Laban’s boat? Are you sure?”
“Mano saw the name. There’s no mistake.”
“And Laban’s missing?”
She nodded, not sure what to expect from her grandfather. He seldom showed his emotions.
“Maybe he’ll be found yet.”
Tutu kane was never one to face facts. Kaia suppressed a sigh. “Someone needs to call his mother.”
A look of dread crossed her grandfather’s face. Bane must have seen it as well, because he stood. “I’ll do it. Where’s the number?”
“The address book is in the drawer by the phone,” Oke said. He plucked at a string on his shirt.
Bane nodded and went to the house. Kaia glanced toward the water. “Have you seen Nani this morning?”
“She chattered her usual good morning before going off to find some fish.”
“There she is!” Kaia spotted the dorsal fin coming into the small inlet. All dolphins looked a little different. She could recognize Nani out of a pod of dozens. She went down the steps to the edge of the water and waded in. The warm caress of the Pacific waves brought a comfort she never felt on land. Sometimes Kaia thought she was half fish herself.
Nani glided to her and nudged her with her nostrum. The dolphin squeaked and whistled a particular tune that Kaia recognized as Nani’s greeting. She sank to her knees and rubbed Nani’s skin. The dolphin rolled to her back so Kaia could rub her stomach. With her dolphin, Kaia felt accepted and whole. Once Nani found her own kind, she could have chosen never to come back, but she had never missed a day.
Snagging her research job at Seaworthy Labs had been a stroke of unbelievable luck. She’d gotten her PhD last year, and now at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, she was living the dream she’d had since she was ten and swam with her first dolphin. Every day she and Nani moved closer to understanding one another. Someday people would know her name as the woman who bridged the language barrier with sea mammals. She’d be able to hold her head high without shame. That day had been too long in coming.
Nani bore no injuries from the day before that Kaia could see. She gave the dolphin a final pat then slogged through the waves to the pier that tottered like a drunken man out into the water. Damaged in the 1992 hurricane, it needed replacing, but her grandfather had been reluctant to do it. He’d helped his father build it seventy years ago, and he couldn’t let it go.
She hoisted herself onto the weathered boards and let her legs dangle in the water. The sound of the surf soothed her as she watched the dolphin frolic. After about fifteen minutes, Nani swished past Kaia’s legs then rolled onto her back. When Kaia reached to touch her, the dolphin darted away as if to coax Kaia into going for a swim with her.
“Not today, Nani,” she said. She began to sing a song she remembered from her childhood, one her mother had made up. It was about ′ohana, or family. Singing the words about the closeness of family, she felt her depression lift. Sometimes she felt she didn’t have an ′ohana with her mother and father gone, and the song reminded her that family was more than parents. She needed to go talk to her grandfather, but not yet.