Page 56 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

“Three …”

My body went rigid. All reasonable expectations of “everything will be fine” were tossed into the breeze. I tightened my hold on the bar as if it were my lifeline, and Tim’s push from behind shot me off the platform. As soon as my feet dangled in the air, my stomach dropped to the planet below, and I screamed, my throat raw.

The blue sky and cotton-like clouds seemed an arm’s length away, and the evergreen trees and the terrain welcomed me with open arms. Don’t look down, Tim had said, but that was the thing about being in an open space—it was nearly impossible not to.

Halfway across, my fear resolved as fast as it had come. I was the little bird afraid to jump, but once I spread my wings, I flew. I became one with the wind and the earth. Serenity filled my soul.

I felt small yet grand, and I laughed from the sheer joy of it. I was high. Ecstatic. And I wanted more. At that moment, I thought of Steve. We were supposed to zip line together. He’d wanted to be the one to take me first.

I’m flying, Steve. I wish I could fly to where you are. And if he were here, he would say, “You’re doing great, Abby. I’m so proud of you.”

When I neared the stop, Kevin had his feet planted, his arms stretched out, ready for me while everyone stood to the side, waiting for my reaction.

I yelped and gasped when the cable braked. As soon as Kevin released me, I released the harness. My knees buckled.

“Abby.” Ian came to me with open arms, his features marred with concern.

As soon as his warm, secure embrace enveloped me, tears trickled down my face, and I sobbed softly. I had no idea why I was crying. Maybe it was the pride and relief of conquering my fear. Maybe it was that I had done this without Steve.

Tyler wrapped his arms around me from behind, and the three of us stood there. If Steve were here, we would be doing this exact thing. But Ian wasn’t Steve, so I backed away and wiped my eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” I sniffed as I looked at the worried faces around me.

Kate looked horrified, and Tyler’s eyes were wide and unblinking.

“I’m so sorry, Abby.” Ian reached out for me, but he pulled back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t have—”

I didn’t want him to feel guilty, especially when he’d done nothing wrong.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” I said. “I have to admit, I was terrified, but I love it. Can we do it again?”

Their somber expression turned to happy ones.

“I knew it.” Ian hugged me and swung me around.

When my feet touched the ground, Tyler grabbed my arm.

“You liked it, Mom? You really liked it?” Tyler’s excited voice rang in the air.

“Yes.” I cupped his face and kissed his cheek. “Did you?”

“I did. It was the best. But are you sure you’re okay?”

My son’s concern filled me with joy. He even held my hand, which he rarely ever did these days. Tim came from the other side, and we continued with the tour.

At every stop, the course went higher and higher, but there was a limit on the height for the beginner’s course. Every time it was my turn, I reveled in the feeling of flight, as mesmerized as the first time. Afterward, we went to a local diner to eat lunch.

While we waited for our meal, Kate pulled out her camera and scrolled through the photos she’d taken. She’d gotten a shot of Ian, Tyler, and I huddled together as if we were a family. My throat tightened.

Steve should have been the one in the photo.

Chapter Twenty-Two — Liam

All the parking spaces at Tyler’s school were taken. Most of the parked cars belonged to kindergarten parents walking their kids to the gate to wait for their teachers. I had no choice but to drive to the drop-off curb, which also meant I had to get in the slow-moving line of cars.

I missed Tyler being five. I recalled the first day I’d brought him to this school. He’d had on his Skeletons versus Unicorns backpack with a matching lunchbox. Bridget had, too. They had the same teacher. Tyler had hardly slept the night before from excitement.

As I waited for the car ahead of me to drive off, a huge banner displayed at the front of the school caught my eyes—Father-Son Miniature Golf Event. Guilt took a space in my heart.