Page 51 of Talk Story

“We lost our day,” he said. “What we planned: hike, swim, picnic, nap, all of it.” He glanced over at me, and there was hope in his gaze, an olive branch held out. “Ohia Bay’s nearby. The water’s flat. Let’s go put our suits on and wash off the day. Start over, even if it’s late.”

I could feel the hurt sitting in my chest like a swallowed stone. I knew myself well enough to know it wasn’t going to dissolve in salt water just because I wanted it to.

“Okay,” I said. “Worth a try.”

We changed in the shack, separately, in silence. I went into the bathroom where Miss Prissy liked to stay cool on warm days and pulled on the swimsuit I kept there for exactly these unplanned ocean moments.

Keone changed out front, and we didn’t talk, and the not-talking was loud.

Then we walked across the newly paved parking lot and the road, onto the sand at Ohia Bay in the late gold light.

The water was clear and calm, the temperature perfect; Hawaii’s is an ocean that receives you no matter where you’re from.

I dove under and came up and started to swim hard strokes, fast kicking. I headed out toward the mouth of the little bay in a steady crawl, because my body wanted to do something with what my chest was holding.

Keone swam beside me, easily matching my pace, his big shoulders rolling smoothly as he turned his upper body with each stroke. We went out past the shallows and the coral heads to where the water turned that deep cathedral blue. I turned right and swam lengthwise now; I did laps until my arms burned and the heat in my lungs felt better than the hurt.

We trod water out there eventually. From where we floated the shack was a small brown box behind the Post Office on the shore, with the Pahinuis’ General Store on the right. Behind the hill where the village was built, the green wall of the valley rose, and the village’s small homes dotted the gentle hill.

I might not be ‘from here’ but Ohia was my home now.

“Okay. What’s wrong?” Keone was breathing a little hard, water beading on his lips and high cheekbones. “And don’t say it’s nothing.”

I gazed at the shore, the pier, the coconut palms, the village. At the valley’s ridge in the far distance. At everything I’d thrown myself into for two years without once stopping to ask whether it would ever be mine to keep.

“Will I always be an outsider?” The question came out wobblier than I meant it to; I blew water off my lips in a raspberry to try to lighten my words. “Here. On Maui. Is there a line I don’t get to cross, no matter what I do, how hard I try? Because I helped today. I’ve helped a lot of times.” I spread my arms so I could float without moving for a bit. “But I’m still one who flew in. I’m not from here, and never will be.”

Understanding moved across Keone’s face—and behind it something that might be grief.

He swam to me. He gathered me in, the both of us treading water with our feet, his arms warm around my shoulders and the deep blue holding us up.

He put his forehead against mine. “You’re already kamaʻāina. You hear? Uncle Kalani told you that himself—bumbye you come one kamaʻāina—and that man doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. Yes, you came here a stranger—but since then you’ve given this place everything you had. On this case alone you helped get the petroglyphs back. You refused to go past where Uncle Kalani said to stop until Malia asked the ancestors for permission. No, you’re not Native Hawaiian and can never be—but belonging isn’t always where you’re born, Kat. It’s—where you give yourself.” His arms tightened. “It’s what you’d give blood to protect. And when you marry me, it’ll be official, in front of everybody. Our names, our families will be joined. I look forward to becoming Smith-Kaihale or Kaihale-Smith. We can flip for whose name goes first.” Gazing into his eyes as we treaded water was almost too much for me; I had to turn away, blinking away salt that had nothing to do with the sea. “But you don’t have to marry me to be a part of our community. You belong in Ohia, no matter what. You’ve been ours since you earned your place here solving that first case.”

I felt the truth of his words trying to dissolve the hardness in my throat, the hurt in my heart.

It didn’t. Couldn’t. Because words said carelessly about somebody else had landed too hard.

“That means a lot,” I said. “Thank you, Keone. But—” I pulled back, getting some space. “I guess I’m full up. Fed up. On drama, on the caves, on people’s motives, on all of it. I’ve had about as much human nature as I can take for one day.”

“Kat—“ He closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration. Water droplets flew off his dark curling hair; he was a merman with his glossy brown skin and sleek muscles.

“I’m not mad.” That was true. “But I need a night off from all of it. I’m going to go home to Aunt Fae and eat something that isn’t a sandwich or a granola bar, sleep in my own bed, and let today be over.” I touched his wet, warm cheek. “Rain check on our day off together. I mean that. But not tonight.”

He searched my face, and whatever he saw there, he was wise enough not to argue with. He seemed to know when to push and when to let go—another thing I loved about him.

“Okay,” he said. “Hug the cat for me and we’ll check in tomorrow.” A pause. He gave the smallest smile, sad at the edges. “But we’re not done talking about this. You don’t get to vote yourself out of belonging.”

“Noted,” I said.

We swam in. I decided to shower at home as my clothes were too filthy to put back on; I wrapped up in a beach towel.

Our silence was gentler now, if not yet healed, and he walked me to my car in the long amber twilight and kissed me deeply at Sharkey’s door.

I drove the short distance into New Ohia State Park and Aunt Fae with my windows down and the ocean coming and going in the background. My whole heart was full of things I didn’t have the energy to sort out.

Some days you can solve a case and still drive home sore all over.

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