Chapter 10
Someone had filled my father’s va’a with standing water.
It waited for me on the docks below the market, partially submerged, one side of the hull tilted under the waves. I paused when I saw it, knowing the islanders were watching, waiting to see what I’d do.
Every pair of village eyes stabbed at the back of my head. Focused, hard—a hundred knives pressed into my skull. They wanted another rise out of me, and I wanted nothing more than to give it to them.
Having sold my clams, I sat on the dock’s edge, leaving my empty buckets as I plunged in. The tide was high, the water warm and salty, swells lifting the waves over my head.
I reached for the side of my canoe and rocked it back and forth, turning my face to avoid the water that sloshed out, hitting me in the eyes. Cursing under my breath, I grappled with the dock edge, clumsily lifting one foot over the side and rolling over the wood planks, bringing a rush of water dripping with me.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to glance behind me at the lingering stares along the boardwalk. Tossing my buckets in with perhaps too much force, I sank into the seat of the va’a, rolled my shoulders, and set out for home.
The salty sea water dried over my skin, leaving it feeling taut under the sun. As I ascended the stairs of my veranda, my father’s voice greeted me before I saw him. He turned to look at me, engaged in friendly conversation with some guest, and his smile dropped at the sight of me, sodden and dripping.
Next to him sat Kye.
I froze in place, then immediately sent my gaze through the trees in a frantic search of the nearby houses. Who was outside? Who might see him here, sitting on the bench of my veranda, cooking fish in my oven? Who was watching, waiting to see me bewitch the poor Calderian man?
The door flap slapped the wall as I marched inside.
I stood in the center of the little room, listening to the stunned silence on the veranda. Then low murmurs, quiet conversation.
I hugged my arms, staring out the window with stinging eyes.
Witch.
Without warning, hatred simmered inside me. It was my veranda. My home. My safe place.
Why was he here?
There wasn”t much to do inside. Homes were for sleeping. The veranda was for everything else. I needed to tend my garden. A bag of seeds I’d collected needed separating, and I’d hoped to work on sanding down my new oar.
But the waiting eyes of my neighbors stirred the heat within me, and there was that man on my porch, and my oblivious father, luring the attention of every passerby.
I hated them all.
Fuming, I dropped to the floormat and braided my hair in a long rope over my shoulder. My fingertips drummed the floor as I tried to think of what else to do inside. My clean, dry tapa cloths lay stacked in the corner. Nets were mended, folded, tucked away.
And my oar lay half-finished on the veranda. Clenching my teeth, I changed and peered out the door flap.
“Sit down, Maren,” my father commanded softly.
I glared at him, dropping my voice and ignoring Kye, who sat only a few feet away. “Why, Makua? Everyone can see.”
His gaze hardened. He pointed to the empty space next to Kye, then turned his attention to the smoking oven, apparently unwilling to argue.
After taking my time to pry myself out of the open doorway, I sat on the bench. Kye shifted away from me in his seat, and my eyes veered to the back of his veined forearm as he subconsciously rubbed his thighs.
“Kye,” my father said conversationally, “please continue.”
Kye cleared his throat. “What was I talking about?”
“Your mines in Calder.”
“My family used to mine silver, but those ran dry years before I was born. My grandparents found gold when my father was a baby, and recently, we’ve been experimenting with iron ore mines.”
“And you plan to take this trade someday?” my father asked.
Kye might not have heard the hidden question in his words, but I did. What are your plans for the future?
“Perhaps. My family uses foremen to manage the mines, so we aren’t needed on site. But the process is fun to learn.”
I bit back a sarcastic laugh. The process is fun to learn. His family didn’t even work. I shook my head, eyes narrowed at the fire, as the thought repeated itself in my head.
His family didn’t work.
Kye had never sat knee-deep in mud, dirt accumulated under his nails, driving his trowel through soil under heavy rain, shoulders and back aching. He hadn’t woken before sunrise to paddle out and fill buckets with heavy clams. He hadn’t worked on a ship or a farm, hauling wagons full of whatever Calderians hauled. His family hired otherpeople to do those types of things for them.
The blood of a pampered life.
Well, he’d done a few of those things. At least, he’d fished, swam, and dove with the other men, retrieving spears and nets.
And what?I snorted under my breath, earning a sideways glance from my father. I didn’t care if Kye fished all the tuna out of the Juile Sea.
“So, when you inherit these mines, will you dig for new metals as well?” my father asked.
“My brother will inherit the business. I’ll work for him. Probably doing the same thing as I do now, in a larger capacity.”
“Which is?”
“Overseeing production, testing material strength. Boring ventures.” Kye smiled at my father, shrugging, as if the tasks were unimportant. Even he understood how negligible his job was. No wonder he’d come to Leihani.
Overseeing production? What did that even mean? I stared across the open fields to the other women. Cooking their own meals, they darted glances at my veranda between looking at each other.
The smoke curved into my nose. I breathed in the taste of charcoal and dry ash, swallowing thickly as my father beat it away.
“Who is doing that now, with you here on Leihani?” my father asked, his voice tight with inhaled smoke.
“My father has people for it,” Kye said easily. Beside him, I grunted. He glanced across his shoulder at me, though he said nothing.
I watched the islanders nearby. I counted them, wondering what type of penalty I’d receive for sitting here next to Kye. Would they trample my okra? Flood my father’s canoe again? Untie it and send it out to sea?
I should just go inside and wait for him to leave.
Ano stood to check the fish under the taro leaves, announcing it was ready. Abruptly, I realized I was to share a meal with Kye. Here on my veranda, with passersby just beyond the porch.
I popped to my feet. “I’ll get water.”
“I’ll go. It’s my turn.” My father took the bucket from my hands. “Unwrap the fish for us.” He spun away, feet jostling down the stairs in the direction of the well. I watched him leave, breath anchored in my chest.