“I still have that, too,” Josie whispered. “You can have it back.”
Anahera shook her head. “She would’ve wanted you to have it.” That was why Anahera had given the machine to her best friend. “I can’t sew. Not like her.” Putting her hand on Josie’s, she squeezed. “Thank you.”
Josie’s misty eyes scanned her face. “Are you going to see your dad?”
Steel in her spine, black ice in her heart. “No.” She’d made her decision at twenty-one and that was how it’d stay.
“He’s been sober for years.”
“That’s good. But it has nothing to do with me.”
And then they sat there, awash in memories of a woman with Anahera’s features but with silver in her hair and sadness in her eyes.
INTERLUDE
She examined her face in the mirror, tried to see if it showed.
But no, she looked the same as always.
Frowning, she sat on the narrow single bed and leaned down to lace up her running shoes. They were good shoes, with stripes of orange down the sides. She loved running in them. Probably she shouldn’t have accepted such an expensive gift, but her previous shoes had been falling apart to the point that she’d been considering running in bare feet.
Nothing worse than bad shoes, to her mind.
Getting up, she shut her bedroom door before moving down the hallway as quietly as possible. But he heard. He always did. Wandering into the doorway of the living room, he scratched at the flaccid white of his belly and leered. “Going for a run?”
“Tell Auntie I’ll be back in about an hour.” She’d become expert at slipping past his grabbing hands and was at the front door before he could move his unwashed body anywhere near her. She couldn’t understand how her aunt allowed him to touch her, but then, Auntie had always had hang-ups about her weight.
Men like him took advantage of that. And of Auntie’s kindness.
She didn’t stretch by the house as she’d done before he moved in. She walked a little ways to a patch of green in front of an abandoned property that was falling down around itself. As she did her stretches, she let her mind roam. Which way should she run today? Through the lush green of the old trees and native ferns? Along the main road out of town? It tended to be pretty quiet at this time of the year. The worst she’d get was a toot or two from locals who recognized her.
Or should she run along the cliffs above the beach? Maybe the beach itself?
It was the light that decided her, such a glorious clarity to it, the fog and mist having burned off during the day. She’d have it for at least two more hours and Auntie wouldn’t worry if she was a little late getting home.
Route decided, she took off on a slow jog that built until she was flying over the landscape, her legs formed for this. Sometimes she thought about what it would be like to do this for a job, to become an athlete. However, then it wouldn’t be pure joy anymore. And she loved this too much to diminish the experience.
She ran.
Seeing a standing form in the distance long after she’d hit her stride, she almost stumbled. Not many people in Golden Cove ran regularly and the ones that did tended to favor other routes. And this person was standing motionless, wasn’t even in running or walking clothes. Her feet took her closer and closer, until she recognized that profile, those eyes, that mouth.
“Oh,” she said, coming to a stop, startled and wondering if this was a sign. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
9
Will was sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the letter he’d just received from the police commissioner, when his phone rang. He didn’t hesitate to pick it up, the number one he recognized. “Matilda,” he said, “do you need help?”
On meeting Matilda Tutaia, you’d never think she’d put up with a man raising his hands to her, but Will had been called to the house twice already, both times to kick out her unemployed boyfriend until he calmed the fuck down.
Too bad she always took the asshole back.
“It’s Miriama.” Matilda’s voice was pitched noticeably higher than normal. “She went out for a run before dinner and she hasn’t come back home even though she knew I was cooking her favorite tonight. She told Steve she’d only be gone an hour. It’s been four.”