Emilie Richards - The Swallow's Nest

The Swallows heritage was mixed, but in this way, they were most like their native Hawaiian ancestors. When her Auntie Alea could no longer care for herself without help, various family members had taken turns staying with her in California until Lilia took on the job full-time. Nobody had considered engaging professionals. Help came from within.

Lilia sometimes felt she was walking a high wire strung between cultures, but when her mother returned, one thing was easy to put into words. “There might be a difference between generations, Mama, but nobody’s advice is as good as yours.”

“I have no advice. You have to walk your own path. I could tell you to forgive, and if you couldn’t, then you would carry the burden of my advice, as well as your own sadness.”

“I want somebody to fix this.”

Her mother was close enough to reach out and stroke her daughter’s cheek. “There is no one but you, Lilia Alea.”

The next half hour was filled with greetings, serving, sharing stories and catching up on family and local gossip. For the most part Graham’s absence was ignored, although a petite cousin pulled her to one side and told her she would personally go to San Jose on her next business trip to the mainland and slap him around if Lilia just gave her the go-ahead.

The air was filled with the scents of plumeria, pork roasting in an outdoor oven her brothers had built for her mother, fragrant pikake and ginger leis. For the most part the women were clad in flowered sundresses or muumuus, although some of the younger ones wore jeans, and the men wore aloha shirts patterned with flowers and local scenery. Her youngest brother, Jordan, a professional surfer, arrived in the striped board shorts he’d worn in his last successful competition and announced he planned to wear them until the next one.

Lilia noted that her father kept track of her, and when he sensed she was trapped in conversations for too long, he came to the rescue. Joe Swallow, former cop and now the owner of his own security firm, wasn’t a man who was comfortable talking about feelings, his or anybody else’s, but nobody ever doubted his devotion.

Several hours into the commotion, as Kai’s little band turned up the volume, new supplies of food arrived, and more neighbors arrived to listen, her father sought her out.

“A friend of yours is here.”

Lilia thought everybody she’d met in her years on Kauai was already at the party. Her head was beginning to ache, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to talk to one more person. An hour ago she had reached her saturation point, and now the evening was becoming a complicated jumble of thoughts and emotions.

Her father motioned. She followed him to the front of the house in time to glimpse a woman with strawberry blonde hair getting out of a cousin’s old Toyota. A moment passed before Lilia recognized her.

“Regan?” She moved forward, past her father, and the other woman ran straight into her arms. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Tell me I really am, okay? I feel like I’m still on an airplane.”

They held each other until Lilia thanked her cousin and finally backed away. Now Nalani’s comment about a friend made perfect sense.

“My mother knew you were coming?”

“She thought you would enjoy the surprise. And the company.”

“She didn’t think I had enough company?” Lilia nodded toward the house and the roar from the back.

“Not exactly like me.”

Lilia linked arms with her friend. “I’ll introduce you to everybody. That will take hours. Don’t worry about how any of us are related because we never do. Call all the older women Auntie and you’ll be fine. And then when we can, we’ll sneak away. If you’re not too tired?”

“I can only stay till Tuesday. I don’t plan to sleep.”

“I’ve subscribed to that plan lately. It’s not a good one.” She stopped walking and turned to face her friend. “Just tell me Graham didn’t put you up to coming.”

“Lilia...” Regan frowned and shook her head.

“Your brother?”

“Is sick with worry. But coming was my idea. In fact I didn’t tell either of them, not that I’ve talked to Graham.”

“You’re not in charge of the baby?”

“You told me to stay away, remember? I listened. In his favor, he never asked.”

Lilia realized how much she wanted to know about the situation back in Willow Glen, and at the same time, how little. She was glad that right now, she had other priorities. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I smell food.”

“You’ll never go hungry here.”

“I’ll eat if you will.”

Lilia was surprised that eating actually sounded good now. In fact what she’d thought of as a permanent knot in her stomach was beginning to unravel. “Let’s load our plates. Then we’ll make the rounds.”

“So, I’m a good surprise?”

Lilia squeezed her friend’s arm. “Of all the surprises I’ve had lately, you are the very best.”

9

Plantation architecture arrived in the Hawaiian islands in the early twentieth century. The houses, for workers in the pineapple and sugarcane fields, suited the climate. They were often framed in wood, with wide-hipped roofs, vertical plank siding, and lanais for ventilation and extra living space.

The Swallows’ cottage had been built by Lilia’s great-grandparents and added on to, as was common, but the lanai that wrapped around three sides of the house was the crowning jewel.

On the morning after the family luau Lilia found Regan sprawled in a chair in the front with her eyes closed. She was wearing fresh clothing topped with a sadly wilted ginger lei she’d been given at the party. Last night she’d slept on the bed in the loft, where island breezes swept across the narrow expanse from opposing windows. For the Swallow children, sleeping there had been a reward for good behavior.

Invariably Lilia and Graham had slept in the loft on their visits. This time, for obvious reasons, she was sleeping on the daybed in what was now her mother’s sewing room.

With a cup in one hand she plopped down in a neighboring chair to sip her mother’s excellent coffee. She closed her eyes, too. “How’d you sleep?”

Regan didn’t open her eyes. “Am I awake?”

“You’d better be. This is our only full day together. I wish you could have gotten more time off.”

“You have any idea what a miracle it is that I got any time off at all? Hello? Remember tax season?”

Lilia knew March and April were crunch months for Regan, an accountant at a prestigious firm. “I appreciate that, and you.”

“I’m sorry we never got to talk yesterday.”

“If I’d dragged you away from my brother, he would have pulled out every embarrassing story he remembered and shared it.”

“I’d forgotten how cute he is.”

“And how young he is...”

“Three years, Lilia. Just three years younger than I am. That’s nothing.”

“Jordan’s married to his surfboard.”

“He’s coming to Huntington Beach in September to compete.”

“You’re so funny. You won’t even remember his name by September.”

Regan didn’t deny it. Like her own brother, she never seemed to settle down. “I think I kind of disappeared last night. The party was still going on when I went upstairs and tested the bed, just to see how it was, and that’s what I remember. I’m sorry. What are we doing today?”

“There’s not enough time in the world to do everything you’ll want to.”

“Whatever was in that punch Jordan gave me was lethal. I need advice, preferably delivered in short sentences.”

“We can swim, snorkel, hike, shop.” Lilia opened her eyes. The sun was creeping steadily across the lanai. In a few minutes they would need to move. “Whatever works best with your rum-addled brain.”