No Place Too Far

by Kay Bratt

  “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, reaching up to run a hand along the bottom.

  “He spent years carving and chipping away at it, taking his time to get it absolutely perfect. Years that I barely saw him.”

  Quinn turned to Liam. “I’m sorry. I know sometimes an obsession can tear a family apart.”

  “It wasn’t his obsession,” Liam said. “It was his penance.”

  Before Quinn could ask what he meant, an elderly man walked forward from the shadows. He was tall, and though not a heavy man, his upper body rippled with muscles. His hair was thick, only a few stripes of black streaking through the faded gray like tributaries into a river.

  She could see Liam in the lines of his face, Quinn decided, though his countenance was far different from his son’s. Liam usually came across as welcoming and at peace. But this man—his very own father—looked sad.

  Deeply, deeply sad.

  He pulled a rag from his pocket and mopped his forehead with it, then stuffed it back into his jeans.

  Finally, he looked up at them and made eye contact. “Son. Good to see you.”

  “And you,” Liam said. He squeezed her hand. “This is Quinn.”

  The man nodded shyly at her.

  Liam turned to Quinn. “And this is my father, Ano.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” she said. “Your property is gorgeous. I feel like I’m on a deserted island.”

  He didn’t smile. Only nodded again. It wasn’t unfriendly. He just seemed distant. His energy reminded Quinn of her brother, Jonah. Protective of himself and sparing with conversation.

  Quinn’s thoughts swam with curiosity. Why had Liam let on that his father was gone? What was really going on between them?

  “I wanted Quinn to see your workmanship,” Liam said.

  “She must be important for you to bring her here.”

  Liam nodded. “She is.”

  Quinn felt her cheeks flush. There was something going on. Something she didn’t quite grasp. It felt like a secret was being passed from father to son and back again.

  “I heard you back there,” Liam said. “You must have been sanding.”

  Ano nodded. “I have a canoe going out on Saturday. I’m doing the final prep.”

  “Another for the club?”

  “Yes.”

  There was an awkward silence for a few seconds; then Liam directed his next words at her.

  “My father plays an important role in keeping Hawaiian customs alive.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Quinn said. She looked at Ano, but he kept his eyes down. He was humble.

  Liam touched the canoe—reverently, as though it were alive. “He’s one of the few who does craftsman work while keeping with the oldest techniques. The shape, length, and weight requirements are all very strict. His canoes are highly sought after, but only a few will ever own one.”

  “The only value to me is what they feel in their heart as they use the vessel to be one with the sea,” Ano said, his voice softly echoing in the big room.

  “Believe me—the value is much more than just sentimental,” Liam said. “If only he could finish them faster.”

  Ano looked up. “It takes time to get it right.”

  “Interesting,” Quinn said. “How do you know how to do this?”

  “It’s complicated,” Ano said.

  “I’d love to hear.”

  Liam glanced at his father, an invitation for him to speak. When Ano remained silent, Liam began, “Polynesians from long ago were natural experts with navigation, and they discovered the Hawaiian Islands, which brought about the influx of migration. My father believes the spirits of these same discoverers come to him with details, dimensions, and their wishes for what he must work on next. All of it is shown to him either in meditation or when he sleeps.”

  Over the last year that she’d lived in Maui, Quinn had become much more spiritual. She now believed in visions and spirits.

  “You’ve memorized my words well, son.” Ano looked pleased for the first time.

  “We’ve shared so few that, of course, I remember them all,” Liam said.

  He didn’t sound unkind, but knowing him like she did, Quinn could hear just the tiniest bit of resentment hidden within the smile. She didn’t judge—she knew well how complicated a parent-child relationship could be. She was still trying to figure out how to be the daughter her newly discovered mother wished her to be.

  “I hope that your brothers were as good of students,” his father said gently. “But somehow I doubt it. You were always the thoughtful one. As well as the one most interested in the canoes.”

  Quinn had met Liam’s brothers at a weekend cookout. Big, strapping goofballs who were much more talkative and demonstrative than their brother. To her they seemed more interested in their own pursuits—mostly catching the biggest fish and drinking on Friday nights—than they were in anything creative. She could see how they would be considered less likely to take on their father’s craft or listen to his words.

  Liam was different. He was a listener, a trait that made people confide and trust in him. Though he was young, he felt more like a Hawaiian elder, his entire being reverent and protective about their culture.

  “Anyway,” Liam continued, “the knowledge of ocean navigation began to fade with modern times until some decided to bring it back. Now cultural classes include lessons on navigation as well as racing. There are dozens of canoe clubs across the islands and more forming all the time. My father’s gift is very valuable as the new generations try to embrace their Hawaiian culture.”

  It made Quinn happy to hear that Maui wasn’t letting its traditions be forgotten.

  “I’ve never been in an outrigger. I can imagine how close to the sea you feel in one,” Quinn said.

  Liam raised his eyebrows in a challenge. “If you’d like, I could set us up for an outrigger tour. There’re a few companies that do them on Maui. Of course, it’s not like the old days, but you can see what it’s like to be on a canoe with no land views in sight. They’ll even take you to snorkel with the old sea turtles.”

  Quinn thought of the sea turtle that she believed had saved her from drowning, guiding her up toward the light and the surface. With that experience, she’d finally overcome her fear of water. Now she loved to swim in the comforting sea, but she stayed close to shore. She still had unresolved trauma from falling overboard when she was a child, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to go out on such a small boat. Thus far her family had not been able to persuade her to even go out on their much larger vessel.

  “Make sure you use someone reputable,” Ano said. “Last April a group went out, and the whole thing was flipped over by a wave. All eight tourists went overboard.”

  “Lest you’re thinking they were eaten by sharks, don’t worry, they were rescued,” Liam said, winking at Quinn. “The instructors are usually really good, but sometimes you can get someone green. I wouldn’t book us with anyone but the best. We could even do an outrigger whale-watching excursion.”

  Quinn remembered all the trouble she’d left behind at the hotel. She doubted she’d have time to do anything other than get all her responsibilities covered before jumping ship—metaphorically speaking, this time. The flood of reality made her feel like her energy was suddenly being sucked out of her.

  “Is there someplace I can sit for a minute?” she asked.

  Liam put an arm around her. “Of course. I’m sorry. It was a long hike.”

  “No worries. I just need a minute. And some fresh water if possible. My Hydro Flask is on empty.”

  “Take her into the cabin and let her rest where it’s cool before your hike back down,” Ano said. “I have more work to do.” He turned and headed toward the back from where he’d first come.

  Without so much as a goodbye or nice meeting you, he was gone. Liam looked after him, then shook his head.

  “I’d hoped to have a little more conversation, but he’s done,” he said. “Come on.”

  They
left the shed and found Bodhi waiting right outside the door, his tail thumping out a beat on the dirt at the sight of them.

  “Bodhi,” Quinn said, kneeling down to rub him behind both ears.

  “Don’t spoil him,” Liam said. “As you can see, my father isn’t very affectionate, and Bodhi will just feel abandoned when you leave.”

  “Aww, poor baby,” Quinn crooned to him. She decided that wherever she ended up settling next, she wanted a dog. One just like Bodhi if possible.

  Liam helped her stand, and they walked up to the cabin with Bodhi right behind them.

  “You go on in and rest while I fill your flask,” he said, taking it from her and heading to the pump in the yard. “There’s no air con, but it feels better in there than on the porch. Bodhi can go in with you if you like. We’ll take him off duty for the moment.”

  Quinn hesitated, her hand on the door. She felt like an intruder, but he’d insisted. Since Quinn had already seen the condition of the workshop, she felt sure the interior of the cabin would be similar.

  But she was wrong.

  She stepped through and stopped suddenly. Sparse wasn’t even the word to describe what she saw. It barely looked like anyone lived there.

  Bodhi moved around her and went to the hearth, dropping down on the cool tile laid around it. He released a long, tired sigh.

  “He working you too hard, Bodhi?” Quinn teased. She noticed that the dog was quite plump, and his hair shone. Ano might not be affectionate, but he took good care of his companion.

  The cabin was only one room. It held a cot against one wall, a wooden stool near the large kitchen sink, and another wooden stool by the hearth.

  She saw one framed photo on the wall. As she approached it, she could see it was a family shot of parents with three boys. She tried to pick Liam out from them, but the brothers looked so much alike she couldn’t tell.

  Liam came through the door and handed the flask back to her.

  “Sorry there’s nowhere comfortable to sit.” He took a seat on one of the stools, close enough that he could use his foot to rub Bodhi’s belly, which was now shamelessly splayed out for attention.

  “Which one are you?” she asked, gazing back at the photo.

  “None of them. That’s not our family.”

  Quinn turned to him. “But—I don’t understand.”

  “Come sit down.”

  She took the other stool and carried it to the hearth, easing down gently and glad to be off her feet.

  She took a sip of the water from her flask.

  “This water is delicious.”

  “Straight from a spring. Listen, Quinn. There’s a reason I brought you up here, and it wasn’t just to get you away from the hotel.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “My father left us when I was six years old. I only saw him a few times a year.”

  Sudden sadness overwhelmed Quinn. So much so that she didn’t even know what to say. She grew up without a father, too, and knew it was probably the hardest part of her childhood.

  Liam took a deep breath. “All three brothers in that photo were killed one night when my father left a bar on Front Street, thinking he was okay to drive. Turns out he wasn’t, and he crossed the center line of Piilani Highway, pushing the car in the oncoming lane over the embankment.”

  Quinn realized she was covering her mouth, frozen in horror. She dropped her hand in her lap, not sure what to do with it. Thoughts swirled faster in her head than she could keep up with, her brain trying to sort it all out and put it back together again.

  “But—but—why the photo?” Liam looked so sad that it was nearly unbearable for Quinn not to go to him.

  “Miraculously the parents lived, though they didn’t want to without their children. The mother was severely and permanently disabled. The father was in traction for months before the trial. We lost everything in the restitution order. Our home. The family land that has been ours for generations. I was too young to understand it all, other than the fact that I no longer had my favorite playing spots to wreak havoc on.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He took a deep breath. “The restitution, of course, wasn’t enough to make up for their loss. In their victim impact statement, they asked that my father be required to hang a photo of the boys in his prison cell to remind him every day what he’d taken from them. He gave his word he would do it.”

  Nausea and pity rolled in Quinn’s stomach. She could understand the parents’ request because she knew she’d never understand their loss.

  “So he kept the photo even after he was released,” she said. “To punish himself.”

  Liam nodded. “He was paroled after seven years for exemplary behavior. But he wouldn’t come home. He said he didn’t deserve to have the blessing of his three sons after taking three sons from someone else.”

  “But that was punishing you. And your brothers. How cruel.” Quinn didn’t care how it came out. She couldn’t imagine Liam’s mother trying to explain to them why they couldn’t see their father. “Where did he go?”

  “First he walked around Maui, living without a home. Denying himself sanctuary from family and friends. The more that people pitied him, the more enraged with himself he became.”

  “Did he drink in his anger?”

  “No. He’s never touched alcohol again since that night. He was a law-abiding citizen. He checked in with his parole officer when he was supposed to, and that was really the only way we knew he was still alive.”

  “Your poor mother,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah, watching her suffer was the worst part of all of it for me.”

  “So how did he get here?”

  Liam crossed his feet at his ankles, his eyes on Bodhi. “It was a blessing, really. One day a few months after he’d been living on the beach, he decided to go farther up into a remote area of Maui. He found a cave to make camp in where he could be away from people. My father lived in that cave for nearly a year, meditating to try to find peace. He didn’t even go to town for food. He lived on plants, berries, and whatever else he could from the land around him.”

  “It’s a miracle he survived.”

  “Yes, he knows that now,” Liam said. “Inside his cave were a few rotting old canoes left there from many years ago. As the months went on, he studied the ancient canoes, trying to understand why each part was carved the way it was. That was when the dreams first came and the deeper knowledge—we call it huna from the ancestors—spoke to him and awarded him his gift, which would become his life’s work.”

  “A wood-carver.”

  “A wood-carver and a canoe maker,” Liam agreed. “He began to see in his dreams how the canoes were made, but he needed more guidance. He found and worked with one of Maui’s few remaining canoe masters for another year, and when the man died, he left this land to my father with the agreement that he would continue his studies and help keep the old ways alive.”

  “And he has.”

  Liam looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Yes, he has. My father never goes back on his word. This has been his home ever since. The only time he leaves it is to go see another uncovered ancient canoe or to the museums to study those on display, and even then it’s been only a few times all these years.”

  “But not to your home? Or family events?”

  He shook his head. “Never. He didn’t watch my brothers play football. Wasn’t there to teach us to drive. He even missed seeing me surf in the Maui championships back in the day. Anything and everything a father would do, he avoided.”

  “But why couldn’t he move your family up here to be with him?”

  “Because that would defeat his purpose of isolating himself. It wouldn’t be a punishment if he had the support of his family around him.”

  “So you and your brothers took his place as the man of the house. You got to share in his punishment after all,” Quinn said.

  Liam shrugged. “My mother worked two jobs for many years until my brothers and I were old
enough to work and help. She needed us to grow up fast. She still needs us. Or at least, she needs me. My brothers have a lot going on in their lives.”

  “I can’t imagine how much it hurt you to not have a father around.” She knew what it was like to grow up without a father, and it brought about a stirring of anger toward the old man. But she also felt pity, for he had to have led a lonely life. A life of isolation and quiet.

  “He did what he had to do. Is still doing what he has to do to serve penance. My brothers and I at least got to visit once he moved here. He tried to teach us what a father should during those quick visits. Lots of life lessons and lectures. His greatest fear is that we will not be men of our word or noble enough to own up to our mistakes.”

  “So he has to continue showing you forever?”

  “Yes. He feels that the death of those boys is forever, so his penance is forever. But I don’t agree. I think mistakes can be forgiven, and one made shouldn’t lead to many more. Quinn, what I’m trying to say is that you can never outrun your troubles. My father could’ve suffered the same, staying in his home as he does here. Without the distance leaving us fatherless. He could’ve made penance in another way.”

  “You think leaving my family and running away won’t solve my problems.”

  “You tell me. People here love you, Quinn. Why make them suffer more with your absence? Why punish them all over again?”

  He didn’t name himself among those who would be punished by her absence, but she could see in his eyes that he was hurt for her to even consider leaving him behind for another life. If she did, she would be doing to him exactly what his father had done.

  It would shatter her, especially knowing she’d hurt him, but he had to think of her family. She had to make him understand that staying would hurt so many people. It would be all on her. Once again she would be the reason they suffered. Maybe they’d miss her, but at least their lives wouldn’t be upended. It wasn’t enough that she’d disappeared for thirty years. Now that they’d been reunited, fate wanted to use her to bring them all down.