Chapters (35)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
- DEDICATION
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- From the Author: The Story Behind the Story
- READERS DISCUSSION GUIDE
- About the Author
“She’s smart as a whip. Before she came here, she worked for a big pharmaceutical company in Washington, blew the whistle on some of their unethical practices, was eventually fired, then blacklisted. After that she suffered from depression and then alcoholism. She got several drunk-driving arrests, then came here. She can’t keep a job because of her anxiety, but she’s been sober for more than a year. She gets disability, but it’s not enough to afford a roof over her head and all that comes with it. It barely pays for her medication.”
Quinn shook her head. Such a sad story. It seemed like anyone could be just a few setbacks from disaster.
Jonah pointed at an older man coming out of the restroom. “That’s Paul. He’s a vet too. When he came back, he opened a landscaping business in California. It was lucrative for a long time until times got hard, gas prices went up, and then he found out he got melanoma from so many years outside. He couldn’t work for a while and lost everything. After battling with the VA hospital for too long, he decided to finish out his years here and just let the cancer take him. But Dad helped him get on with the top dermatologist on Maui, and now he’s getting care and making payments. He still works at a golf course up in Napili but can’t afford housing on top of his medical bills. He hops beaches because the police keep running us off. It’s like musical chairs but with tents.”
Quinn bit her tongue against the urge to ask Jonah why he didn’t just go home to his family. It really wasn’t her place to judge.
Noah nodded. “The point is that these people didn’t just wake up one day and hit the streets. Most of them are from the mainland, and it took time for them to end up here. Usually a chain of events, piling up until they could no longer afford their mortgage or rent, sent them to the beach to live. They didn’t want to be here—at least most of them didn’t. You do have the occasional dreamer who has the ability to find work but only wants to move to Maui to surf and be one with nature. But for the most part, they want out of this situation. They’ll work, but it’s hard to get a job when you have no known address. And there’s no housing assistance or rent control for low-income families here in Hawaii like there is on the mainland. Rent is outrageously high.”
“Chris Pratt from Guardians of the Galaxy and the Jurassic Park movies was homeless here for a year,” Jonah said. “But he found a way out.”
“I’m starting to understand now,” Quinn said. “Thank you for explaining.”