Page 33 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

Back at the gallery, I had to admit that I’d had a wonderful time. It was a great break in the mundane routine, and I was looking forward to the auction.

I picked up Tyler from school and brought him to the gallery. He whined, but I promised him tablet time if he’d help me tidy up. We had so many deadlines that I had no choice but to work late hours several nights a week. The gallery had become our second home.

We really needed to hire someone. Luckily, we already had several responses to our online “help wanted” ad. Stella would screen the candidates before the initial interview. I suspected she relished the chance to wield a little power, but we trusted her judgment.

Chapter Twelve — Sick Day

I dropped off Tyler at school and came back home to sleep. My head pounded, and drinking water didn’t soothe the soreness in my throat. I blamed my fever on exhaustion from long hours at work—lack of sleep had opened up the door to whatever germs were circulating.

Great. This was just great. I had too many deadlines, and I couldn’t afford to get sick. I had already messaged Kate and Stella to let them know I was going to be in late, but now I would have to tell them I wasn’t coming in at all. Hopefully, I could fight this off with sleep and some medicine.

I reached my phone from the bedside table when it pinged with a text.

Kate: Don’t come in. Rest up. I’ll pick up Tyler after school. Let me know if you need anything.

I gave her a heart emoji and plopped my head back to the pillow. I should have been more careful. My body had been shooting warning signals to slow down for days—eventually, I’d learn to pay attention.

Kate hardly ever got sick. I was the one who caught a cold every winter and attracted every virus that went around Tyler’s school. In high school, she would sleep in my bed to try to catch my germs. It never worked.

Alone in the quiet, I thought about Steve and how we met in college.

I had been standing in line at a small café inside the USC campus, debating what to order from a list of soup specials, when the guy in front of me bumped into me.

I stumbled back and almost dropped my paper cup of coffee. The warm liquid sloshed through the lid hole, and a few drops landed on my hand. Good thing it had a cap. Even better that I had come after the rush hour. Aside from the clumsy guy in front of me, I was the only one in line.

“What the—” a deep voice said.

I peered up, muttering curses under my breath. Pretty green eyes met mine, and I put on the brakes. He sported jeans and an olive sweater, and the spark between us softened me instantly.

It was like a scene from a movie where two people just stood there, staring at each other, enchanted. No words were needed, just an instant connection. If there were such a thing as soulmates, he was mine, and I was his.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” His abrupt, annoyed tone had softened to concern. “I’m so sorry. I tripped, and you caught my fall.” His lips curled wickedly, and his eyes danced.

“I’m fine. But do you normally use small women to break your fall?”

He scoffed, but his grin widened. “Only the ones I find attractive. My name is Steve, by the way.”

Nice one, Steve.

My cheeks warmed, and I offered a broad smile.

“My name is Abby.” I puffed out a breath to push the strands that had fallen on my face.

Steve glanced down at my full hands—books in one, paper cup of coffee in the other—and tucked the wayward strand around my ears. “There. Now I can see your pretty eyes, Abby.” He gestured to the cashier with his chin. “I think it’s our turn to order. Whatever you’re having, I’m paying. It’s the least I can do for nearly running you over.”

A little arrogant, but in a playful way. Normally, I would have politely turned him down, but I felt bold that day.

Live a little, my daring voice said.

I had taken a leap of faith. Steve and I had lunch, just the two of us as if the universe wanted us to be together. That lunch was followed by other carefree campus lunches and many more happy memories. What can compete with young love?

I yawned and slipped into a deep slumber.

“Sweetheart.” Steve smiled.

Like the last time he appeared in my dreams, a white light engulfed him in a divine glow. We faced each other across the pillows, lying on our sides.

“Steve.” I reached for him, but my arms swiped at empty space, and he began to fade. “Steve. Come back.” The words echoed in my head.