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"And instead of announcing his arrival home in a loud booming voice, Puna crept quietly into the cave and finally saw Kihawahine's true form," Grandpa paused, his winged eyebrows raised high, comically wrinkling his forehead.
Kala giggled, leaning forehead, her eyes shining with excitement. "What did she look like grandpa?"
"She wasn't a woman, but a dragon! Covered in bright green scales, slime dripping off her fangs. Puna was so startled by her ghastly appearance, he gasped and woke her up!"
He couldn't help himself. He'd heard the story so many times he knew it by route. He swung down from the top bunk, his hands curled like claws, he snarled at his little sister. She shrieked and fell over in a fit of giggles. Their grandfather chuckled which morphed into a cough halfway through. The old man bent over, clutching his knees in a way that made his grandchildren both go silent with concern.
Kala slipped out of bed first, offering a glass of water from the night stand. He had the first digit of 911 up on his phone before his grandfather glared at him over the glass of water.
"That is quite enough Jake. I'm not going to drop dead over a little cough," he wheezed. Jake had the grace to blush as he put the phone away. "Now do you want to hear the rest of Puna and the Dragon Goddess?"
Kala reached for his hand, squeezing it before she climbed back into bed. "That's okay grandpa, we can finish it tomorrow. You should get some rest." Her tone made him sigh. Too mature for an eight year old. Funny that his grandfather said the same thing about him at sixteen.
Grief had a way of aging the young.
He rolled onto his back, looking up at the plastic stars Kala stuck on the ceiling a couple summers back, when her whimsical side was alive and well with their parents. It was only Jake's insistence that kept her from taking them down. He stared up at them, pretending to star gaze until he heard his sister's heavy breathing.
Once he was certain she was truly asleep, he eased from the top bunk, landing soundlessly on his feet as he tiptoed through the house. He made it all the way to the porch when his grandpa's voice stopped him cold.
"Going somewhere Jake?"
His shoulders drooped. "I was hoping to sneak out for a late night swim."
"Long as you leave those behind," said his grandpa. Jake cringed. He counted on the dark hiding the pack of smokes tucked in his sleeve. "Try not to let grief give you a nasty habit," said his grandpa, giving him a cheeky wink through a puff of pipe smoke.
"Hypocrite," Jake muttered, tossing the smokes on the table. It was true was trying to quit. His sister hated it, and the only reason he'd started was the stress surrounding their parents passing. It was only through his grandpa's vigilant eye he had made any progress in quitting at all.
"We're fireproof, not cancer proof, boy," his grandpa grinned, chewing the pipe stem. Its smoke smelled clean, like burning herbs. Jake stifled the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of the 'family legend'.
