Tilting her head back, she drank the last of her water, then flashed an innocent smile. âI mean, you got yourlast jewelry from ancient ghosts.â
âYou know that still creeps me out,â Darby said. âAnd I think thatâs something we wonât share with my mom, if you donât mind.â
Darby ran through her chores as fast as possible, but when she got back to Sun House, she could already hear Meganâs hair dryer whining upstairs.
Hurry, she told herself. Youâve got to look great .
When she made it to the kitchen, she had every intention of just pouring a bowl of cereal and shoveling it down while standing at the counter.
âI need bigger calves,â Jonah said. He and Aunty Cathy were dawdling over coffee as if it were an ordinary day. âI canât afford to ship them to the mainland for fattening, but this hippie grass-fed beef thingâ¦â
What? Wasnât all beef grass fed?
Hurry. Donât listen to Jonah. Donât get into conversations that will make you late.
âJonah, grass-fed beef is healthier,â Aunty Cathy was saying.
âFor cows or humans?â
âBoth.â Aunty Cathy looked serious. âAnd if thereâs one thing we have plenty of, itâs grass. Besides,â she added with a grin, âno one on earth would mistake you for a hippie.â
Jonahâs frown kept Darby from thanking him for the necklace. Besides, it could have been from Aunty Cathy. Even Megan could have slipped it in there and pretended to know nothing about it.
Why didnât she just ask? All at once, Darby realized her fingers felt cold. Before sheâd come to Hawaii, that had only happened when sheâd felt really unsure. On the verge of timid .
Darby blamed a combination of hurry and worry.
Vowing to shake off these feelings, she said the first thing that came into her head: âDid you ever have any paint horses?â
Before he answered, Jonahâs eyes shifted toward the hallway. Something in the glance made Darby sure the necklace had been from him. But now he was answering her.
âIf you mean your Tutuâs Prettypaint, that mareâs papers say sheâs a gray.â He gave a long, dubious shrug. âI canât claim Iâm unhappy to have her out of my sight, though.â
âI think sheâs a beautiful horse.â Aunty Cathy shot Darby a conspiratorial look.
âMe too,â Darby said, but she hadnât been thinking of Prettypaint. Sheâd been picturing teenage Ellen, Ebony, a black-and-silver stallion, and the horse that had come to visit, just yesterday.
Darby took down a bowl and a box of cereal, then asked, âDonât you like paints?â
âHave I mentioned this is a Quarter Horse ranch? Seems like I did.â Jonah used a knuckle to smooth one side of his mustache in mock concentration. âNo wild kanaka stock from Crimson Vale or Sky Mountain, no blue-blooded Arabians, Thoroughbreds, Morgans,big-as-a-truck Friesians, or anything else.â
âOkay,â Darby said, trying not to spill the milk she was pouring.
âJust Quarter Horses. The registry wonât accept paints, so Iâm careful with my bloodlines.â He glared at Aunty Cathy when she cleared her throat. âIâd never have one, and if some throwback popped up, Iâd sell it.â
Her mom had gone for revenge in a big way, then, Darby thought, but it didnât sound like sheâd achieved it.
Darby finished her cereal just as Jonah started out of the kitchen and she was quick enough to catch him before he left the house.
âThanks for the necklace,â she said.
Her grandfatherâs wry smile said he wasnât surprised sheâd read him like she did horses.
âIt was just rattling around in a drawer,â he said with a shrug, âbut youâre welcome.â
âI really like it,â she added.
âItâs just a reminder,â he said.
Learning to Kill: Stories