“Yes, it’s shaped like a sea turtle.” She tried to keep her tone in check, but it was obvious if the woman knew she had a birthmark behind her ear, she probably also knew what shape it was.

The woman nodded solemnly. “You are well?”

Quinn nodded. “I am.”

“I have a story to tell you,” she said. Her voice sounded shaky. Uncertain.

“That’s why I’m here, I suppose,” Quinn said, looking at Carmen for confirmation. Maggie took her hand and squeezed it.

“We all have our own story,” Carmen said. “But what you will see is how it all fits together in the end.”

The old woman rocked back and forth, her chair creaking eerily with each pass.

“I would like you to reserve your questions—and your judgment—for when I am finished telling. Can you do that?” Helen asked.

Quinn hesitated. “I’ll let you speak.” She wasn’t promising she wouldn’t judge, though. That much she probably couldn’t control, depending on what the woman had to tell. And she sure couldn’t guarantee that Maggie would stay quiet.

Helen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they were boring a hole through Quinn. “I’ve had a troubled life, and an unfair one at that. I did everything right, and still the universe tried to punish me. As a child I listened to my parents, respected my teachers, and did what I was told. I graduated high school in Oahu at the head of my class and then moved to Maui with my parents and siblings. I never chased the boys, but one chased me, and I made him marry me before trouble could find us. We built a house on the same property that my parents owned, and he went to work for my father. He worked hard, and we had four children. My sister also married and began to raise her family on our family land, all of us together like our culture is meant to be. Soon my sister had five mouths to feed, and the place was filled with the sound of children. The kids grew up like siblings, and we cared for them as a group, sharing the work between our two families and their very hands-on grandparents. The children were together for meals, homework, and especially playtime.” She paused to catch her breath.

Quinn didn’t know where this was going, but the woman was describing an idyllic life, something akin to how Auntie Wang had described her own childhood. Once again, Quinn felt a longing stir for what might have been had her mother not decided to leave Hawaii. The family life was so strong here, but her own childhood had been more than a little lonely.