Read Fly Away for Free Online Page B

just the four of us. I can’t believe you
     thought—”
    “Oh.” The word was spoken quietly, barely above a breath. He could see how hurt she
     was. “You said ‘we.’ I thought you meant me, too.”
    He knew how often she’d been left behind in her life, abandoned by her mother, but
     he didn’t have the strength to worry about Tully Hart right now. He was close to losing
     control of his life; all he could think about was his kids and not letting go. He
     mumbled something and turned away from her. “Come on, kids,” he said harshly, giving
     them only a few minutes to say goodbye to Tully. He hugged his in-laws and whispered,
     “Goodbye.”
    “Let Tully come,” Marah whined. “Please…”
    Johnny kept moving. It was all he could think of to do.
    *   *   *
    For the past six hours, both in the air and in the Honolulu airport, Johnny had been
     completely ignored by his daughter. On the airplane, she didn’t eat or watch a movie
     or read. She sat across the aisle from him and the boys, her eyes closed, her head
     bobbing in time to music he couldn’t hear.
    He needed to let her know that even though she felt alone, she wasn’t. He had to make
     sure she knew that he was still here for her, that they were still a family, as wobbly
     as that construct now felt.
    But timing mattered. With teenage girls, one had to carefully pick the moment to reach
     out, or you’d draw back a bloody stump where your arm had been.
    They landed in Kauai at four P.M. Hawaiian time, but it felt as if they’d been traveling for days. He moved down the
     jetway while the boys walked on ahead. Last week they would have been laughing; now
     they were quiet.
    He fell into step beside Marah. “Hey.”
    “What?”
    “Can’t a guy just say hey to his daughter?”
    She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
    They walked past the baggage claim area, where women in muumuus handed out purple
     and white leis to people who’d come here on package deals.
    Outside, the sun was shining brightly. Bougainvilleas in full pink bloom crawled over
     the parking area fence. Johnny led the way across the street to the rental car area.
     Within ten minutes they were in a silver convertible Mustang and headed north along
     the only highway on the island. They stopped at a Safeway store, loaded up on groceries,
     and then piled back into the car.
    To their right, the coastline was an endless golden sandy beach lashed by crashing
     blue waves and rimmed in black lava rock outcroppings. As they drove north, the landscape
     became lusher, greener.
    “Uh, it’s pretty here,” he said to Marah, who was beside him in the front passenger
     seat, hunched down, staring at her phone. Texting.
    “Yeah,” Marah said without looking up.
    “Marah,” he said in a warning tone. As in: You’re skating on thin ice .
    She looked over at him. “I am getting homework from Ashley. I told you I couldn’t leave school.”
    “Marah—”
    She glanced to her right. “Waves. Sand. Fat white people in Hawaiian shirts. Men who
     wear socks with their sandals. Great vacation, Dad. I totally forgot that Mom just
     died. Thanks.” Then she went back to texting on her Motorola Razr.
    He gave up. Ahead, the road snaked along the shoreline and spilled down into the verdant
     patchwork of the Hanalei Valley.
    The town of Hanalei was a funky collection of wooden buildings and brightly colored
     signs and shave-ice stands. He turned onto the road indicated by MapQuest and immediately
     had to slow down to avoid the bikers and surfers crowded along either side of the
     street.
    The house they’d rented was an old-fashioned Hawaiian cottage on Weke—pronounced Veke, apparently—Road. He pulled into the crushed-coral driveway and parked.
    The boys were out of the car in an instant, too excited to be contained a second longer.
     Johnny carried two suitcases up the front steps and opened the door. The wooden-floored
     cottage was decorated in 1950s bamboo-framed furniture