He nodded and bent back over the computer. Kaia tossed the beach ball to Nani, who balanced it on her nostrum and threw it back to Kaia. They played for a few minutes, then Kaia gave the ball back to Bane for hiding, hoping Nani, in her playful mood, might ask for it back with the right clicks and whistles. Instead, Nani just bumped Kaia’s leg with her nostrum. Kaia tried again.
She repeated the process for over an hour until she was exhausted, both from the exertion and from the lack of progress. Desperation gripped her. Nani was so trusting, she could easily be captured if Curtis was determined.
Kaia climbed back into the boat, and Jesse handed her a towel and a bottle of water. “Mahalo,” she said. She took a swig of water then toweled off and wrapped the large beach towel around herself. She sat in the chair beside the captain’s seat then propped her feet on the dash, crossing them at the ankles.
Jesse drank from his water bottle. “I’ve been thinking while you were working with Nani. We’ve got to find that guy with the birthmark on his nose.”
“I’ve got it covered. Bane is going to attend a meeting tomorrow night and try to figure out the man’s name. Once we have that, we can talk to him and see what he knows about Jonah’s death.”
“What did you tell Bane?” He sounded cautious.
Was he worried she’d told Bane about Jesse’s suspension? All her earlier doubts surged again. Could Jesse be involved more than she thought? She sipped her water and stared out over the blue ocean. The sun was beginning to set behind them, its rays gilding the craggy heights of Na Pali with glitter.
Jesse leaned forward and started the engine. He steered the boat out to sea a bit then began to troll back and forth in front of the base, just outside navy waters.
“You never told me what the base commander said.”
“He thought my taking leave was a good idea.”
Jesse didn’t look at her, but she could sense the pain in his words. “Aloha n?,” she said, expressing her sympathy the best way she knew how. She wanted to touch him but wondered if it would be too forward. Her brothers hated being pitied.
“Mahalo,” he said.
She sensed he’d like to be alone. “I think I’ll fix some dinner,” she said. She went below to the galley. Kaia prepared a quick meal of fish and fruit salad, tossing in papaya, coconut, banana, mango, and strawberries. They polished off the food, then Jesse tucked Heidi into bed while Kaia and Bane cleaned up the galley.
“I like your Jesse more and more,” Bane remarked as he put the plates away.
“He’s not my Jesse,” she said.
“He’d like to be. I think you’d like it too.”
Bane’s voice was amused, but Kaia wasn’t. She could only hope and pray Jesse couldn’t hear from in the bedroom. She quickly changed the subject. “You’ve been quiet all evening. What’s that all about?”
“I’ve had a lot to think about lately.”
“Like what? You’re not questioning your profession, are you?”
“Oh no, not at all. I love oceanography. I can’t wait to get back to it.” He hesitated and glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
She hung up her dish towel and frowned. “Then spill it. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. I’ve been thinking about what our grandfather said last week. We’ve been too busy to get back together and discuss it, but I think we should find our mother.”
“He aha ke àno? I don’t want to talk about it.” She grabbed two containers of yogurt and flounced up the ladder. If he was going to talk nonsense, she’d go talk to Nani. She wondered if she’d brought her toothbrush. Had she left it on the sink at home?
Bane followed her. “We’re going to have to deal with this sooner or later, Kaia.”
“Then make it later,” she retorted. “I told you I have no interest in finding her. Let her come looking for us.”
“If she did, how would you feel?”
“I still wouldn’t want to see her.”
“Then you’re the one with the problem. You need to forgive her and put it behind you. Maybe you can’t do that until you see her face-to-face.”
“I can’t do that ever. I don’t see why you keep bringing her up. She doesn’t love us, Bane. She left three kids without a backward glance. For all she knows, Tutu kane died and left us to the welfare system. She never cared about us, so why should we care about her?”
“We don’t really know anything about it. Maybe she watched us from a distance all these years.”
“You’re dreaming, Bane. And you know better. If she cared, we would have at least gotten a postcard, a birthday card, something. But there has been nothing for almost twenty-five years. Years, not months or days. What kind of woman would do that? Not one I want to know.” Or could ever trust. Her throat ached.
“Well, I want to know her.”