Chapter 23 Anne
Anne
Morning came mellow and bright to Pualena as the sun crested the horizon and lit the pale blue sky. Anne was in the kitchen, as usual, making breakfast for her guests and watching the sky shift through its subtle sunrise colors.
All four rooms were full with an extended family on vacation. Unlike the busy guests who had passed through in the past few weeks, this crew seemed content to spend their days sitting around the house, catching up with family and eating tropical fruit.
The family included not one but two babies, and Dawn was overjoyed to have them around. Throughout the day and night, she could almost always be found holding one of the babies and chatting with guests.
Filling the house was having exactly the effect on her mother that Anne had hoped it would; day by day, she could see her coming back to life.
Since this was a group that enjoyed a long, leisurely breakfast, Anne went all out on the food that day.
She made ‘ulu waffles with lilikoi sauce, wild boar sausages, and Kona coffee.
There was also a platter in the middle of the table loaded with slices of mango, papaya, white pineapple, lilikoi, and bananas.
Like Dawn, the matriarch of this family was a young grandmother. Latrice and her husband walked the cliffs every morning at first light, then came back and spent the day with their kids, who ranged from twelve up to to grown.
The two women had become fast friends almost immediately, and they both sat at the table that morning. Latrice had the one year old snuggled in her lap, and Dawn was holding her new friend’s six-month-old grandbaby.
“We have got to do something about that hair,” Latrice said. “Go full silver if you want, but those roots are not a good look.”
“Mama,” one of her daughters interjected, “you leave her alone!”
“I will not. I’m sorry, Dawn, but I cannot look at this anymore.”
“Stop trying to work on vacation,” said another relative. “You’re five thousand miles away from your salon.”
“I don’t need anything but a box of dye or a pair of scissors.” She gave Dawn a critical look. “Or maybe both.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a haircut,” Dawn conceded with a hint of a grin.
“My scissors are in my bag.” She handed off her grandbaby and headed upstairs. “We’re gonna get you fixed up.”
Five minutes later, they were out in the backyard.
Dawn sat in a folding chair, and her tired blonde hair was floating to the ground. Latrice was cutting it short, nearly to her skin at the nape of her neck. In the front, she left it as long as she could while still getting rid of that two-toned look; only an inch or so of new silver hair remained.
Anne watched through the window as an edgy new pixie cut appeared out of the frizzy ruin of her mother’s neglected hair. Somehow, the new haircut lifted and lightened her whole face. Even though what remained was silver-gray, Dawn looked twenty years younger than she had when Anne first arrived.
Her cooking had helped with that; hearty breakfasts with guests and meals with the grandkids had filled the hollows of her mother’s face and brought her back to a healthy weight.
Dawn had gotten her color back too, tan shoulders and pink cheeks replacing the sickly pallor that her skin had taken on during those long months spent sitting indoors, first nursing her husband and then mired in grief.
“You look like a new woman,” Latrice announced when she’d finished.
“I feel… lighter,” Dawn said, running a hand over her hair.
Her friend beamed. “You like it?”
Dawn’s answering grin was girlish. “I do. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Truth be told, I just couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. Now if you really want to thank me, you’ll convince that green-haired grandbaby of yours to let me do the same for her.”
“Unlikely. Unless you want to dye it some new outlandish color.”
“No need,” Zoe said flatly as she walked out of the ‘ohana unit. Her hair, now faded to a sickly yellow-green, was tied back in a loose braid. “I can manage.”
“At least let me trim those dead ends,” Latrice said.
“No.” Zoe walked past them and up the back steps. “Thank you.”
“Do you want some breakfast?” Anne asked as her eldest daughter walked into the kitchen.
“No thanks. I’ve got work.”
“Some food to go?” Anne tried.
Zoe hesitated a moment, then grabbed one of the ‘ulu waffles. “Thanks.”
“I made lilikoi sauce,” she started, but Zoe shook her head.
“This is fine.” She took a bite of the waffle. “We should get going.”
Anne turned to see who was included in this ‘we’ and found Noah standing just inside the front door. Her hand flew to her chest as her heart skipped a beat.
“You’re like a ghost!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t even hear you come in! How long have you been standing there?”
He smiled apologetically. “I just got here.”
“We’ve got work,” Zoe said. She grabbed a jar of coconut water from the fridge and headed for the front door. Her father passed her in the living room, moving further into the house instead of leaving it.
“Nani’s lychee trees are going off.” There was a slight anxiety in his eyes that belied his easy tone, and Anne sensed an invitation coming. “She offered us the lion’s share if we do the picking for her.”
“We should get going,” Zoe said again, hovering near the front door.
“Yep.” Noah acknowledged their daughter with a quick nod and then turned back to Anne. “Do you want to come?”
“I’d love to.” Anne glanced uncertainly at her daughter.
“Are the kids around?” Noah asked.
“No. They’re out walking the cliffs with Halia.”
“Just us, then.”
“One big happy family.” Zoe rolled her eyes and walked out, letting the screen door close behind her with a bang.
Maybe Anne was imagining it, but she could almost swear that she’d heard a hint of real longing beneath her daughter’s sarcasm… like Zoe’s inner child still longed for reconciliation as much as Anne did, but she was trapped behind the wall that Zoe had built around her heart.
She looked uncertainly to Noah; he winked and walked out after Zoe, gesturing for her to follow.
Anne took a fortifying breath and remembered Halia’s advice: Just keep showing up.
She slipped on a pair of sandals, grabbed a shopping bag, and followed him out the door.
Zoe cast one dark look at the bench seat of Noah’s cab and then climbed into the back of the truck. It was an open truck bed. No seats, no seatbelts.
“There’s plenty of room up front,” Anne told her.
“Pass.” Zoe crossed her arms and settled into the pickup box.
“We’ll get pulled over,” she worried.
Zoe snorted. “Not in Pualena.”
“Let her be,” Noah said. “We’re not even getting onto the highway.”
Anne bit her lip and refrained from saying anything else. Reluctantly, she climbed into the cab without her daughter.
It was a short drive through Pualena, and they drove along without speaking. Cheerful Hawaiian songs played quietly on the radio. Anne stared out the window, overly aware of Noah’s hand resting just a few inches from hers.
Nani’s property was up near the highway. There was a small lychee orchard behind the house – too small to have any serious commercial value, but laden with too much fruit for the auntie to pick herself. She was still spry at seventy-five, but picking that amount of fruit was hard work.
Each tree was covered in massive clusters of red lychees, and the air was rich with the citrus-rose scent of the ripe fruit.
“Is that little Annie Kalama?” Nani cried when Anne climbed out of the truck. She hurried towards them with her arms outstretched. “It’s been ages, but I’d know that freckled face anywhere.”
“Aloha, Auntie.” Anne smiled and accepted Nani’s hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“When did you get back? How long are you here?”
“A few weeks ago. And… indefinitely.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Your mother needs you now more than ever. How is she?”
“Better,” Anne told her. What a relief to be able to say that and mean it.
“I’m glad to hear it. You’ll bring her some lychee for me?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Go on, then. I’ll let you get to work. We’re all ready for you.”
They walked around the back of the house to greet two more aunties Anne had known from childhood.
They were set up in the shade with plastic bags and coolers, ready to package the lychees for sale.
Lychee season was short, and the delicious fruit could fetch twenty dollars per bag at roadside stands.
Anne had forgotten that Nani and her friends set one up on the side of the highway every year; she was glad to see that they were still at it.
Noah came up beside her and handed her a pair of pruning shears.
“Right,” she said, nodding. “Let’s get to work.”
Many of the fruits on the heavily laden trees were still half green, and she left those alone.
She moved slowly around the edges of the first wide old tree, using the shears to cut bundles of ripe lychee that she then lowered carefully into her basket.
When she had gathered all the fruit that she could reach on the outside, she moved into the shade nearer the trunk in search of more.
Standing up in the branches of the tree, Zoe worked at triple speed – and she did so without damaging the delicate fruit. She was in her element, up there in the canopy. With some sadness, Anne realized that this was the first time in ages that she had seen her eldest child look truly at ease.
Zoe swung easily down from the tree and reached back for her basket, which was still cradled in the branches. She went to empty it on the tarp where the aunties would sort and package the fruit – and she smiled at Anne in passing.
Such a small gesture, but it made Anne’s heart soar.
There was still hope for them. She still had the chance to mend their relationship.
And that was no small thing. That was everything.
Her heart was light as she went back to picking. It was an easy rhythm: choose a bunch of lychee, clip the stem, set them in the basket. Even so, her arms were burning with exertion after just a few minutes. It gave her a new appreciation for how strong her daughter really was.
“How are you doing?” Noah appeared at her side with two tall glasses of iced tea. “The aunties sent refreshments.”
“You and Zoe have each filled one of these huge baskets already.” Anne paused for breath and set down her garden shears. “Mine’s not even halfway full.”
“It’s a good start,” Noah said in that easy tone of his, holding out one of the glasses.
Anne took it, and for a moment her senses were overwhelmed by the warmth of his fingers against the cool of the glass.
They were alone, shrouded from Zoe and the aunties by the dense green screen of low-hanging branches, and the current humming between them pushed every coherent thought from her mind.
Then he withdrew his hand, and she took a long drink of the tea. It was mamaki with lemon, perfectly refreshing. She breathed deep, and her pulse slowed almost to its normal rhythm.
“Have dinner with me,” Noah blurted, and Anne nearly dropped the glass.
She caught it in two hands and stood holding it for a moment.
Her brain stalled like a faulty engine.
The icy glass in her hands and the heat of the summer day filled her senses, and it was a moment before she could bring herself to look Noah in the eye.
For once in his life, he didn’t look cool and composed. He looked as nervous as a teenage boy asking a girl to the school dance. Anne remembered that look well… from another lifetime.
Her shock faded, and she felt a smile play across her lips.
“Noah Kapono… are you asking me out on a date?”
He nodded, brown eyes intense as he looked at her. He wasn’t even breathing.
How was it possible that she still had that effect on him?
Noah had only gotten more handsome since their shared adolescence.
The years looked good on him. Anne, on the other hand…
the face that she saw in the mirror was deeply tired, with stress lines etched into her brow and age spots starting to compete with her freckles.
Living with her family in the humid tropics, she had abandoned the complicated makeup routine that she’d kept up in California.
She felt old and plain.
But Noah didn’t see her that way. Noah saw her beauty, and she loved him for it. She loved him for so many reasons; she always had. And yet, even with so much shared history, what was between them now felt… different, somehow.
“I’d like that,” she said.
A smile blazed across his face. “Really?”
“Really.” She reached her hands out, just slightly, and he hurried to take them.
“I’m glad you’re back.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “I’ve missed you.”
“We’ve known each other all our lives, but this feels… new.”
“Like the start of something.”
“Exactly.”
“I have so much on my plate right now…”
“I’m not in any rush.” Noah’s smile was warm, his expression calm again. “We’re on island time here, remember?”
Anne nodded, her eyes fixed on his. “I remember.”