Karma by the Sea by Traci Hall

a doctor nearby? A real doctor instead of a medicine man?”
    Kay seemed to realize what he was doing and her shoulders dropped a bit as she chuckled. “I’m sorry. It really is upsetting to me—I can’t explain the situation without explaining my parents. My dad is a native Hawaiian. My mom a hippie born to hippies. I had zero boundaries growing up.”
    “Your parents are still together, you said?” And her dad unfaithful.
    “Yes. But my mom won’t divorce my dad no matter how many times he messes around.” Kay’s eyes turned hard. “She won’t protect herself.”
    Huh, Joe thought. That explains quite a bit about Ms. Aneko right there. “What made you move to Chicago?”
    “I wanted far away from the Pacific Ocean. Chicago has Lake Michigan, but there aren’t any deities associated with it that I know of. Besides, I stay in the city.”
    Joe offered her the last scallop, which she ate with obvious delight. “Thanks.”
    The waitress came and they ordered another round of beers and their burgers. Mushroom and Swiss for Kay, double bacon and cheddar for Joe.
    “I normally don’t order cheese, but I’m going to have to run extra tomorrow anyway because of the beer.” She reached across the table and put her hand over his, her fingers caressing his knuckles. The simple touch went straight to his groin. “I might as well go all in, right?”
    Joe liked the sound of that. A lot. He turned his hand upward so that their fingers were entwined.
     
    *****
     
    K hated to be a downer, but Joe kept asking questions that were depressing as hell. She did not have a golden childhood, despite what it looked like to the outside world. It was difficult to defend herself over and over to people who just didn’t get it.
    Who knew Joe had all that therapy under his belt? And anger issues? She hadn’t seen him come close to losing his temper, not even when she’d regurgitated salt water on his shirt.
    Instead of therapy, she’d done self-help books and psych classes through college, searching for clues in how to forgive her parents. How to get beyond the death of Paolo. It was a work in progress, as so many things were.
    “When was the last time you went home?” Joe asked.
    “Chicago is my home.”
    “Sorry. Hawaii.”
    “I grew up on this little island that you have to either fly into, or take a ferry to. Molokai.”
    “Was it claustrophobic?”
    “No. There was a strong sense of community, which probably helped save me, in hind sight. I mean, I had the freedom to wander the entire island from the time I could walk. It was good that Pa,” she swallowed hard, “people watched out over me. They knew my mom. Dad. They understood.”
    “Did you feel like you were part of the ocean, being born in it?”
    “My mom tried to sell me on that line of garbage.” It had worked, too—until the freak storm came and capsized the canoe she and Paolo had taken out to the bay. “Fate, destiny. Mom believes we are all connected by the water.”
    “A lot of people do.”
    K blinked back unwanted moisture from her eyes.  She’d believed it too. Once. “No. We make our own way in this world. I was born in a place where I had to survive my childhood. Once I graduated, I was gone. I never fit with them. I liked the structure of school.” She shrugged. “I knew if I showed up early, I could have breakfast. If I got good grades, there were rewards from the teachers. I got a scholarship to University of Chicago. Being poor didn’t matter because everybody on that island was eking out a living from the land. It could be done, but it was hard. Really hard when your parents preferred smoking dope to working.”
    Joe nodded, his green-gold eyes filled with empathy and compassion.
    “Someone very close to me was taken, and when I asked my parents for help, my mother told me to pray to Namaka. That she was my guardian. Mother of us all,” K said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and drained her beer. “Yet that bitch