by Hester Young
The observation is saturated with sadness. He doesn’t know how Naomi is different exactly, probably doesn’t know why. But he knows that she is. That he, by extension, is different, too.
I’m dying to hear more about his mother, of course, but it’s a little soon to start prodding old wounds. “What do you two have planned for today?” I ask. “Now that Raph is safely on the ground.”
“Nothing.” Adam’s shoulders droop. “We never do anything. Just hang around the ranch and play in the woods all day. My mother doesn’t like me to use the car.”
It breaks my heart that a nineteen-year-old should be living life essentially under house arrest. “You don’t have a job or go to school?”
“No.” He frowns. “The schools all brainwash you. They teach you a godless history and they don’t let you pray. Anyway, someone has to watch Raph and help with all the chores.”
Aha! I think. Bring on the crazy!
I make a mental note to tread carefully. “You have another brother, don’t you? Does he help babysit, too?”
“Elijah? No. Almost never. He’s not responsible like I am.”
We watch Raph crash through the leaves, pinballing off tree trunks, snapping off a low branch and brandishing it like a sword. Whatever sad and isolated life Naomi Yoon has subjected her boys to, she hasn’t broken Raph’s spirit. He has the same boundless energy you’d find in any four-year-old, and as I watch him battle a fern, I can’t help but think of my own son, the same age when he died, the same boisterous temperament. How long can Raph live this way until he becomes like Adam? Self-aware. Yearning for more. Rae’s comment the other day about how cults maintain obedience nags at me.
“Is it true your family doesn’t have electricity?” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret uttering them. Stupid, revealing to Adam that other people have been talking about him, pointing out his family’s eccentricities. Stupid and cruel.
He jams his hands in his pockets. “Who told you that?”
“I just . . . the woods look very dark at night from over here, that’s all. Doesn’t seem like you guys have any lights on.”
“We have electricity,” Adam says. “We have a generator. If we need it.”
I nod, trying to put him at ease. “Most people use a lot more electricity than they need. We get lazy, I guess. Your family must be very resourceful.”
“Yes. We are.”
I wait for him to drift away, to herd Raph back toward their house, but whether from boredom, awkwardness, or just plain social starvation, Adam makes no move to leave my side. I can’t lose this opportunity to get an in with the reclusive Yoon clan.
“You guys could come hang out at Koa House, if you want,” I find myself saying. “Maybe Raph would like a change of scenery. They have some pretty friendly cats roaming around if he likes animals.”
Adam hasn’t learned to mask his emotions. I can see caution battling loneliness on the poor kid’s face. “Raph loves animals,” he murmurs. “So do I. We used to have horses, Solomon and Malachai. But my mom sold them last year.”
“Horses are really expensive.”
Adam’s gaze turns cloudy, as if he’s heard that excuse before and finds it insufficient. Whatever reservations he had about visiting seem to evaporate. He puts a hand to his mouth and calls to his brother. “Raph!”
The little boy stops his assault on a shrub and looks up.
“Do you want to go next door? Do you want to see some cats?”
“Cats?” Raph’s mouth drops open as though Adam has just proposed a Disney vacation. “Yes! I wanna see the cats! I wanna see them!” He charges back to us, grabbing his brother’s hand and swinging it back and forth with anticipatory glee.
He’s just a kid, I tell myself. They always act like this, like some small thing is the highlight of their year.
But what if it actually is? What if cats are the most exciting thing Raph Yoon—or Adam, for that matter—has on the horizon? I lead the boys back toward the warm, buttery yellow of Koa House, hoping the cats will tolerate the clumsy groping of an overenthusiastic four-year-old, wondering if David or Thom will mind the company, and starting to really, truly dislike Naomi Yoon.
twelve
Raph Yoon has an instinct for animals. When he discovers the orange cat sleeping on a patio chair, he doesn’t tackle the creature the way Keegan would have. Instead, he touches the cat’s head with one finger, rubs the base of his ear in small circles. “Hi, kitty,” he whispers. “Are you having nap time?”
The cat opens one golden eye but reads no danger in the little boy crouched before him. He turns on his side and allows Raph to stroke him gently around the neck.
“He’s purring,” Raph marvels. “I feel him purring.”
“That means he’s happy,” Adam says. He hovers around the lanai, too nervous to sit even when I offer him a chair, but he smiles shyly at me now. “Solomon and Malachai, our horses, they liked Raph, too. I taught him to always go slow, so he didn’t startle them. They ate right out of our hands.”
“You must miss them.” In a world as limited as Adam’s, his horses must have seemed like people. Like family.
“I miss riding,” Adam acknowledges. “I miss it a lot.”
“Maybe you could get a job working with horses someday.”
“Raph is my job.” He kicks at the grass with his shoe, a canvas sneaker gray with age, the rubber liner peeling at the edges. “I can’t shirk my responsibilities.”
I don’t argue, but inside I’m raging at the woman who indoctrinated Adam. I have no doubt Naomi’s upbringing was a twisted one, but she’s free to make her own choices now, to roll back the religious dogma and raise her sons with something better. She’s already forsaken at least some of those values by having a child out of wedlock—and with another woman’s husband, if the Victor rumors are true. Surely she can loosen her iron grasp on her kids.
“What about when Raph gets older?” I ask. “Is there a job you’d like to do then?”
“I could be a driver,” Adam says, so quickly I know he must have thought about it before. “I could pick people up at the airport and take them places. I bet I’d meet a lot of interesting people doing that.”
It’s such a quaint ambition, so humble, so achievable, I want to hug him. I bet he’s never even heard of Uber. And little Raph, kneeling patiently by the orange cat, whispering into its ears while he strokes the creature’s sleek fur—I want to hug him, too. They are innocents, pure and simple, and now I understand why Elijah Yoon would almost inevitably rebel, why he had to be the wild one. What fifteen-year-old boy could compete with these two?
No wonder Lise and Elijah found one another. They’d both spent a lifetime in the shadow of some goody-two-shoes sibling. There was no living up to Adam or Jocelyn, so why try?
“You know, I haven’t come here before,” Adam says, gesturing to the Koa House lawn. “You think it’s okay?”
“Wait, you haven’t met David and Thom?” The scope of these kids’ seclusion grows more and more disturbing.
“Well, I’ve seen them before. But I don’t talk to them.”
“They’re very friendly, Adam. I can’t imagine they’d have a problem with you being here. You’re a neighbor, after all.”
“Yes, but . . . do you think it’s safe?” He peeks back at the large yellow house. “For Raph, I mean.”
When I stare at him blankly, he flushes.
“The men who own this house, they’re homosexual,” he says, as if sorry he has to break the news to me.
I take a deep breath, trying to extinguish the flame of anger I feel on David and Thom’s behalf. “I don’t know what your mother’s been telling you, Adam, but you live next to a really great couple. You’d like them.”
Adam can’t quite conceal his doubts, but he’s not exactly raring to return to Wakea Ranch, either. He bites his tong
ue—a good thing, since Thom shows up not two minutes later.
Once he recovers from the initial surprise of finding the Yoons in his yard, Thom’s reaction to them proves similar to my own. Like an indulgent grandparent, he looks for ways to spoil them. He plies them with ice cream, teaches Raph to play Angry Birds on his phone, and offers Adam the use of his extensive library.
The little boy is in heaven, and I suspect Thom is as well. Perhaps he wanted children of his own, once. Even Adam, on guard for any hints of a homosexual agenda, seems to cautiously enjoy himself.
Thom drags out a storage bin stocked with lawn games and lets Raph select one. The boy picks horseshoes, even after Thom explains that there are no actual horses involved and the horseshoes are plastic. Raph cheats outrageously, running to drop his horseshoe directly on the stake as Thom and I laugh.
Embarrassed, Adam tries over and over to correct him.
At some point, I touch Adam’s shoulder, release him of the obligation to fix his brother. “It’s okay, hon,” I say. “He’s only four. Let him have fun. Just for today.”
By the time Rae returns from her adventures, Adam and I are sipping lemonade on the lanai while Thom and Raph kick a soccer ball back and forth across the grass. She looks at the two boys and then at me.
“Hey!” I greet her. “How was your reading?”
“Good,” she says. “It was good. Marvel’s pretty dead-on. She said my day job is killing my soul, one day at a time. Hard to argue.”
“And the beach?”
“Black sand, rough water.” She taps her boob. “Nice to let the girls get some air, though. And I met some very interesting locals. Looks like you did, too . . .”
Praying she won’t say anything embarrassing about cults, I introduce the boys. “This is Adam Yoon, and his brother Raph. They live next door.”
“The mysterious residents of Wakea Ranch!” Rae grins. “So nice to meet you, Adam. I hear your family has a lot to teach the world about sustainable living.” Her phone begins to ring, and she sighs. “So I hate to leave a party with new friends, but I promised I’d do a call with Zoey before she goes to bed. Maybe I’ll catch you later, Adam?”
Adam watches her leave, speechless, and I take it he has never met an adult quite as bubbly as Rae . . . which isn’t saying much. He hasn’t met too many adults, period.
I stifle a yawn, my early morning catching up to me. “I should call my kids soon, too. Make sure no one has burned the house down.”
“Kids?” Adam snaps to attention. “You have children?”
“Two daughters. They’re in Arizona with their dad.”
“How old are they?”
“Three and nine.” I pause for a moment, and then find myself adding, “I had a son, too, but he passed away a few years ago. A brain aneurysm.” I don’t normally mention Keegan to people I’ve just met—it makes them uncomfortable—but something tells me normal rules of social etiquette don’t apply with Adam. “He was four.”
“Like Raph.” Adam watches his brother sprint across the grass after the soccer ball. “He’s four, too.” His eyes meet mine, and I see for the first time that they aren’t brown but hazel, tiny flecks of green and gold at the outer ring. “I bet you’re a good mother,” he says.
“Who knows? We all just do our best.” But the phrase stays with me. A good mother. What metrics would a boy like this even use to evaluate that? I take a sip of lemonade. “Adam, you said before that your mom is different. What did you mean by that?”
His shoulders tense up at the mention of Naomi. “I don’t know. Nothing. It isn’t bad to be different. She . . . she gave me the gift of life, and I follow the word of God. Honor thy father and thy mother.”
“And Elijah? Does he honor your mother as well?”
Having seen how protective he gets of his family, I don’t expect an answer, but Adam’s resentment toward his brother cuts razor sharp. “Elijah is a child. All he cares about is his friends.”
“What friends?”
“Well, it used to be Lise and Jocelyn and Kai.” His arms fold tight against his chest. “He was always hanging around them. He met up with them at night. Sometimes he went to parties. And he hung around the drug pushers, too. Kai’s mother and her boyfriend.” His nostrils flare with indignation. “It made my mother sick with worry, but Elijah never thinks about our family, only himself.” His anger flickers out, replaced by a certain satisfaction. “Now Lise’s gone, and Jocelyn and Kai, they don’t even speak to him. So I guess he’ll learn.”
“Learn what?”
“That family is what matters.”
A chill moves up my neck. There’s a righteousness to his tone that feels dangerous, and I know exactly who he’s channeling. Did your mother want to teach him a lesson, Adam? How far would she go to bring Elijah back into the fold? But I can’t ask that. Can’t imply anything untoward about Naomi. Family is what matters, after all. If I went after Adam’s family, I’d lose all of his trust in me.
I struggle for a tactful approach. “Did you ever think that, well, maybe—”
“Oh no.” Before I can fully form my question, Adam jumps to his feet. “Raph!” he calls. “Raph! It’s time to go!”
He jogs over to his little brother, who is using both hands and his entire body to try to steal the soccer ball from Thom’s expert dribbling.
“Come on!” Adam grabs the boy’s wrist and jerks him away from the game. “We need to leave now.”
For a second, I think that I’ve pushed him too far, that my inquiries somehow crossed a line. But then I see her.
A woman with long, red hair stands at the edge of the woods. Despite the eighty-degree weather, she wears a blue dress that extends to her wrists and ankles. If the idea is to make her less sexual by covering her body, it isn’t working. The fabric hugs her curves. Even from several yards away, I can tell she has those broad hips and full breasts that men seem biologically programmed to behave stupidly around. And her hair seals the deal. The flaming curls tumble down to her waist, calling to mind an Irish travel brochure. I can see why Victor might have overlooked all the crazy rumors that swirled around Naomi Yoon and yielded to his baser needs.
“Adam?” I say. “Is that your mom?”
If I’m hoping for an introduction, I’m disappointed. The boys take off toward the woods like a pair of spaniels summoned by an inaudible dog whistle. I wave, trying to catch Naomi’s eye, but she doesn’t spare me a glance. The three of them disappear into the leaves.
Tucking the soccer ball under his arm, Thom moves to join me. “She’s a strange one, Naomi,” he says. “I’ve never been able to figure her out. Those poor kids.”
“Did we just get them in trouble?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe. I have no idea what goes on at Wakea Ranch.”
“That family’s messed up, Thom.” I know I should stay out of their affairs, but it bothers me. “Adam Yoon is nineteen years old. He shouldn’t be at the beck and call of his mother. And Raph . . .”
“What a sweet kid, huh?”
“Yeah, but the way he was playing with you . . . he was just so blissed out to be with an adult that could cut loose. Little guy needs some fun.”
“So does Naomi,” Thom murmurs. “So does Naomi.”
* * *
• • •
A QUICK CALL home reveals that no one is suffering too greatly in my absence. Tasha misses me, but Noah’s been pulling out all the stops—pancakes for dinner, unlimited screen time—and she seems to have warmed to the idea of a Daddy Week. Micky is less enthusiastic. She has a cold, and her asthma has been acting up. Noah made her use her nebulizer, which she detests. Moreover, her one friend at school was absent today, leaving Micky without a lunch buddy or partner for group projects. I make sympathetic comments and send the children my love.
Noah asks how my article is progressing and h
ow Rae and I are getting along. The news truck, he reports, is gone, although a few reporters have dropped by and we’re still getting calls on our home line.
“You enjoyin’ your time away?” he asks.
“Enjoy” is hardly the right word for what I’m feeling, but I’m not about to reveal that I’m already entangled in another missing-child case, that my accommodations are next door to a suspected murderer, that I’ve been having visions through the eyes of a creepy stalker and potential rapist/killer. This is not information that Noah can handle, not while I’m here and he’s there.
“It’s really interesting,” I say. “I’ve met . . . some interesting people.”
“Interesting?” Noah echoes. “Uh-oh. You stay outta trouble now.” His tone is joking, yet the underlying message is not. “Whatever happens, you gotta make it home at the end of the week, got that? I can only hold down the fort for so long.”
“Roger.”
“I love you, babe.”
“Love you, too.”
Only when I’ve hung up do I notice the time. Slightly after four. I’ll have to hustle to make it to Hilo by five. Don’t want to miss my meeting with Sue.
There are things I need to tell you, she told me in her kitchen, things she didn’t want to discuss in front of Victor and Jocelyn. I grab my sunglasses and wallet, collect the car keys from Rae.
There are things I need to ask.
thirteen
As I drive around the UH-Hilo campus searching for Sue’s office, I’m struck by the discrepancies in its buildings. Some are worn and outmoded, with chipped paint and a damp look that screams cockroaches. Dorms, I’d guess. Others are sleek and glassy nods to modern architecture. Nestled atop a green sloping hill on the edge of campus, a row of international observatories reminds me that the astronomy department here is no trifling thing. Mauna Kea, the Big Island’s tallest mountain, hosts more telescopes than any other peak in the world. To teach at this school, on this island, must be an astronomy professor’s dream.