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"My husband and I run the hospital," Ema said. She pulled up a chair and slid the table closer to the bed. "I want to help you have a few bites of food. It's important for you to eat something and to calm your stomach."
Molly didn't disagree, but she was weak. The thought of picking up a spoon and trying to feed herself felt overwhelming.
"Here, I'm going to help you." Ema reached for a bowl on the tray and stirred its content with a spoon that she then lifted. "This is fish suruwa, which is one of our favorite soups on Fiji," Ema said soothingly as she moved the spoon to Molly's lips. "It's normally very, very spicy and delicious, but I made it a bit more gentle for you, Miss Molly Kimble. Have a bite," she said, holding the spoon steady as Molly leaned toward it and took it into her mouth hesitantly. "There you go."
The warmth, the home-cooked taste, the smooth texture of the soup--it all warmed Molly from within and tears sprang to her eyes. Since Rodney's death, it felt as though she had been taking care of herself entirely, and sometimes not very well. To have someone else spoon-feeding her and showing her kindness felt like a gift.
"This soup has fish, coconut milk, some cinnamon," Ema said, smiling as she continued to feed Molly. "And we usually eat it with some rice, so lets have a bit of that." She set down the soup bowl and lifted a dish of plain white rice. "Again, no spices. Lets just get some solid, easy things in your belly, eh?"
As Molly ate, she could feel a sense of comfort wash over her. She'd be sleeping in a bed that night, tucked between clean white sheets, checked on by a nurse of some sort (she assumed), and fed good food and medicine until she felt like herself again. She had no idea what this would cost her or where she might get the money to pay for it, but in that moment she did not care. She'd call her dad and ask for assistance if she had to, but for the time being, all she could focus on was getting her strength back.
"You'll be fine, dear," Ema said, watching Molly's face. "Are you feeling full yet?"
A wave of exhaustion washed over Molly and she nodded. "Yes. And tired."
Ema stood and put everything back on the dinner tray. "Then you should sleep. Let me put on some music for you."
As Molly drifted on a sea made of hazy dreams, Ema moved around the room quietly, opening the window a bit to let in the breeze. She turned on a radio, and dialed the volume down low. From the speakers came music that acted as a soundtrack to Molly's dream: she stood on the bow of her boat, one hip on her fist as she watched the even waves of the giant ocean, wind blowing through her hair, and the sounds of what sounded like a choir singing in an unfamiliar tongue filled her ears. There was clapping, stomping, the sound of bamboo sticks being hit together, and mostly, there was joy in the air as she drifted into a restful sleep.
* * *
Ema and Dr. Reddy were more than caregivers at the hospital; Molly soon found out that they were largely considered to be the unofficial parents of the small island, whose population was under a thousand people.
"Come, come," Ema said to Molly, turning back and patting her ample thigh with one hand like she was calling for a beloved pet to keep up.
Molly smiled at this, but did as she was told. Ema loved to take her along to the open air market on Rotuma on Saturday mornings, and every time Molly went she met someone new: Alitia, who made dried teas from every herb and leaf on the island; Joni, whose banana pies and cakes rivaled any dessert that Molly had ever eaten; and Adi and Epeli, brothers who brought back fresh fish from their early morning trips and filleted it on a rock as soon as someone paid for it.
"We will grill the mahimahi tonight and serve it with curry leaf rice, you see?" Ema was asking as Molly picked up her pace to keep up.
The women each carried several bags made of fabric to tote home their purchases: pineapples, sugar, ginger, and coconuts, as well as their fresh fish, mango jam, and chocolate desserts made from locally grown cocoa beans.
"That sounds amazing," Molly agreed. She stepped over a big hole in the road and as she did, she noticed that her skin had gotten bronzed in the Fijian sun. She'd been on the island for almost a full month by then, staying in a home that Dr. Reddy's brother owned, and its proximity to a gorgeous waterfall and view of the morning sunrise brought Molly the kind of joy that she hadn't felt in a long time.
"You'll come to dinner, yes?" Ema asked. She had a habit of turning everything into a question, but each time she asked something, her lovely, rounded cheeks pulled up into a sunny smile, her face expectant and hopeful.
"I'd love to," Molly said.
Ema and Dr. Reddy invited her over every Saturday for dinner, and it was always an event. They also invited their grown children, grandchildren, cousins, neighbors, and church community for a big outdoor feast, and everyone brought something. These dinners lasted well into the night and usually ended with someone playing an instrument, at least more than one person imbibing too much rum to find their way home, and so much laughter that Molly's sides hurt by the end of the evening.
Her stay in the hospital had only lasted three days, but once Molly had gotten up and made her way back to her boat, she'd known that she'd need to stay on Rotuma for a bit. Not only was cyclone season upon them, but even setting foot on her boat gave her the kind of flashbacks that stressed her out and made her break into a cold sweat. Being sick and alone and helpless had really done a number on Molly, and while she knew she'd overcome the feeling of dread that cropped up every time she imagined setting sail again, for now it seemed better to just grow where she'd been planted.
And so when Dr. Reddy had offered to arrange for a reasonable rent in the small cabin owned by his brother, Molly had jumped on it. In order to make money and to find ways to integrate herself into the community, Molly got a part-time job at the small high-school on the island, working as an assistant teacher and helping with English lessons. So far it suited her perfectly, allowing her to get to know the young people on Rotuma, work with a kind group of adults who were always inviting her to their homes, church services, and on outdoor excursions with their families, and earn just enough money that she could pay her rent and feed herself without dipping into the savings that she'd earmarked for travel.
It went on in this way for the first month, and by mid-December, Molly was relatively integrated into daily life on Rotuma. She stopped at a small cafe on her walk from the cabin by the waterfall and picked up a strong, hot coffee to go, drinking it as she walked along the water each day on her way to the high school.
Her work days were filled with helping teenagers craft essays, understand their readings, and to parse paragraphs for meaning, and while she loved the work and the kids, she felt most at home when she stopped by the little hospital to offer Ema any help that she might need there. Some days Ema sent her on her way with a slice of banana cake, and others she pointed at the front desk with a harried look, letting Molly answer the phones or file the paperwork that had stacked up on the counter while Ema helped care for the patients.
"Molly! How do you like this?" shouted Adi, one of the brothers who fished and sold his catch in the Saturday market. He was standing up on a ladder that was leaning somewhat precariously against the side of a business on the main street, holding one end of a string of Christmas lights. He pointed at the heavy swags of tinsel that hung over the front door of the shop and around its windows.
"It looks really good!" Molly called back, cupping her hands around her mouth. She gave him a thumbs-up and kept walking, though she turned at the last minute and cast a glance back in Adi's direction.
"Whoa!"
Molly turned around and nearly ran straight into Mrs. Chand, a middle-aged woman with gray hair that reached her waist. She was small and toned from doing yoga everyday, and her unlined face was in stark contrast to her silvery hair.
"Mrs. Chand," Molly said. Her hand flew to her heart. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
Mrs. Chand gave Molly a knowing look before her eyes drifted in Adi's direction. "I can see that, honey," she said. And then: "Will you be at Dr. Reddy's this weekend?"
