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She points to the bowl of water. Her hand goes to her mouth as though she’s scooping water from the river to drink. She makes me smile, and even though we have been apart for days, something has passed between us. She’s my family, and while our societies and communities have raised us in different ways, an understanding that we’re of the same blood subconsciously makes us closer. Even when I first came to the village, we both connected quickly. Maybe the universe was telling me something.
I scramble out of the hammock. The last thing I need is for her to report back to her father that I’m tired, weak, or not coping.
Is it why she’s here?
Samuel said he’d be back by lunch. Maybe he sent her?
I walk over to the water bowl and scoop myself a glass of fresh water. When I turn around, I find the manual sphygmomanometer on Samuel’s bench.
Surely, a week hasn’t passed since I had my blood pressure taken. Days pass slowly when trapped in a hut, but when I think of how much time has already passed, I want to panic, knowing every hour is one closer to the day I have to leave.
When I turn, Kaikare is by the hammock looking at the diary. She picks it up and flicks over the pages, studies the leather cover, opens the pages again, and the photograph of Gran falls into her hands. She studies it a moment, then her eyes meet mine. Placing my cup on the bench, I go to her.
All I can do is nod and offer a gentle smile. I lower my gaze to where my hand rests over hers, holding her mother’s—my grandmother’s—life in words. I wish she could also read it. Although I’m not sure she could or would understand our lifestyle.
A privileged life.
I open my mouth and look her in the eye, ready to say something. Anything. Only words catch in my throat when a single tear cascades down her cheek. Not knowing what else to do, I throw my arms around her and squeeze. With trapped arms by her side, she lays her forehead on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
Sorry for not being able to communicate with you about what your mother was like.
Sorry for upsetting you because as an Ularan, I’m sure she shouldn’t be feeling emotions as strong as sadness or anger.
Sorry because I came into your world uninvited and turned your life as you know it upside down.
“What’s going on?” Samuel asks from behind us.
I release Kaikare and spin to him. He’s covered in mud up to his thigh. With one hand, he leans on the doorway for support, and the way his shoulders slump, I want to ask him if he needs a hand?
Kaikare nods to him, then tosses the diary onto the hammock before rushing past him and out the door.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. She came in here and saw the diary. She knows it’s about Gran because she saw the photograph and shed a tear,” I say, exasperated. “You should go after her.”
He pushes through the mosquito net, and it floats like a parachute back to the doorway.
It feels like I’m in trouble, yet he can’t blame me for Kaikare feeling all this new emotion. It all comes back to secrets.
Kaikare deserves to know about her mother.
3
EDEN
Clueless to time, I pace the room for what seems like hours before the netting separates like a curtain to reveal Samuel’s presence.
“Is she okay?” I blurt out before he has both feet inside the hut.
“Yes. Put on your runners. We’ll take a walk to the stream.” He holds the net wide for me to pass through the doorway to sit on the step and slip on my shoes.
The water is slowly seeping into the earth or making its way to the river systems. In the wet season, new tributaries are temporarily formed. The ground is now muddy with decaying leaves dumped everywhere, along with puddles of water that have nowhere to go. These puddles can also breed more mosquitoes. I turn to the plant I notice out of the corner of my eye. It’s a vine in a pot near the doorway and the window. There’s another placed on the other side of the doorway, and it reminds me of home—decorative pots of plants strategically placed to make a house more appealing. Only these will not be for decorative reasons.
“These are new.”
“The vine is to deter mosquitoes.” He walks away, so I plod along after him, consciously lifting my feet with every stride.
