Page 44 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

“Nice job, Isaac,” Stella said.

We took turns complimenting him as we sat down to eat. Chicken with pineapple, seafood linguini, rice pilaf with sliced almonds, and assorted salad, catered from the finest restaurant. Every single dish was nothing short of amazing.

Ian raised his glass, and though he was talking to everyone, he looked at me. “I would like to make a toast. To old and new friends. May your house be warm and your cups be full.”

Glasses clinked as we exchanged smiles.

“You know,” Stella said after taking a sip, “you can invite me anytime. You all eat so well.”

“Well …” Isaac leaned closer to Stella, who was sitting next to him. “I need a date—”

“Saturday?” Stella said before he could finish.

Isaac furrowed his brow. “It’s for the—”

“The auction. And I would love to go with you.”

Isaac cackled, his eyes gleaming against the candlelight. “That was easy. I like her. Now I have a date.”

We laughed and talked and enjoyed our meal. As utensils clanked and glasses thudded on the table, I wondered how long it had been since Ian and Isaac’s mother had passed away.

After we had the dessert Kate and Lee had brought—cream puffs with vanilla ice cream in the middle—we sat in the family room. While everyone played video games with the kids, I snuck out to the beach.

I sat on the cool sand and extended my legs just to the point where the water met my toes. I shivered, staring at the full, silver moon and the countless stars. The scenic view reminded me of a time when Steve and I had gone to the beach with our friends after finals. We’d splashed in the water and yelled like children, relieved to be done with the semester.

The cold ocean water lapped over my feet, breaking my reverie. I shuddered as I released air from my heavy heart. I should go back inside before anyone realized I was gone, but I loved being out here in the dark with my thoughts. The solitude was serene among the waves and stars, and I didn’t want to go in just yet.

A warm, soft weight draped around my shoulders, and I jerked, my heart thundering. The roar of the crashing waves had prevented me from hearing anyone sneaking up on me. I hadn’t thought anyone would notice that I was missing, at least for a bit longer.

Ian plopped down next to me. He was wearing a T-shirt and his swim trunks.

“Thank you for the blanket.” I patted the fabric over my shoulders. “You didn’t have to come find me.”

“And let you have all the fun?” He grinned and dipped his feet in the foam when the water rolled in. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

I leaned back, arms behind me, my hands anchored in the sand. “You’re lucky you get this view every night.”

“But no one to share it with,” he said in a somber tone.

I gave him a sidelong glance. The moonlight cascaded over half of his features, leaving stark shadows. He looked content, but his eyes told another story—of longing, perhaps, or sadness.

“And not every night,” he added. “Only when I’m here.”

“Where is your permanent home?”

Ian shuffled his feet in the wet sand, making footprints. “It depends on work and depends on how much Lee misses me.” He snickered.

“And your brother?”

He gazed up at the moon, then back to me with a soft, defeated sigh. “I didn’t tell you earlier because I don’t like talking about my mother. I’m full of guilt, and it’s hard to let it go.”

I crossed my legs and tightened the blanket as a chill breeze swirled. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Ian. But I promise I won’t judge you. I’m here to listen. Sometimes you just have to let it out.”

Ian nodded and brought his knees up to his chest. “My mother passed away less than a year ago. She died at the hospital from complications of a stroke, but she also had a long, painful battle with dementia. The auction will support a local dementia charity. I’m on the board.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “But it’s great what you’re doing.”

He gave me a tight-lipped smile and continued looking over the ocean. “Everyone should contribute what they can to the causes that are important to them. We all need to do our part. I have a lot of guilt for not spending time with my mother. I always put my work above her. I thought …” His voice cracked, and he paused to find his words. “I’d thought we had time.”