The parking lot is already crowded when we pull into Kalahari, families unloading carfuls of kids and bags with the same harried energy we've been juggling all morning. Ben barely manages to wedge our car into a spot, and even then, it takes some creative maneuvering to get everyone and everything out without bumping into the car beside us.
"Everyone grab your stuff," I say, juggling my tote bag and trying to keep an eye on Maggie, who is bouncing on the balls of her feet like she's already had three sodas. "We're not leaving anything behind."
"Shotgun that towel bin," Maggie declares to Sam, pointing toward a group of kids heading toward the entrance. Sam shakes her head but trudges after her with Jordan close behind.
Liam pulls into a spot a few rows down, and Kate and Tasha climb out, their motions more subdued but efficient. Tasha has her headphones tucked around her neck now, looking up at the sprawling entrance with something like quiet awe. Kate, on the other hand, looks like she's bracing herself for battle, her face set and unreadable.
"Let's get this over with," Liam mutters as he joins us, hefting a bag onto his shoulder. "I swear, these places are designed to be as chaotic as possible."
"You mean you don't love the dulcet tones of screaming children?" Ben quips, falling into step beside him.
Inside, the lobby is a whirlwind of color and noise. Brightly painted walls, water-themed décor, and the ever-present sound of splashing water spill into the space. A line snakes toward the check-in desk, parents corralling kids who are already whining about when they'll get to swim.
"Stay together," I say, raising my voice above the noise. It feels futile--Maggie is already pointing out something to Jordan, and Sam is shifting her bag awkwardly, her good arm taking the brunt of the weight. I resist the urge to take it from her. She hates when I fuss, but watching her struggle sends a pang through my chest.
We eventually reach the desk, where an overly cheerful employee checks us in, rattling off a series of rules and procedures I only half hear. I catch Liam's eye as he tries to juggle their key cards and a waiver form, his exasperated expression mirroring mine.
"Finally," Maggie says as we're handed our wristbands. She snaps hers on with a flourish and heads toward the locker area, dragging Sam and Jordan along in her wake.
"Stay with them," I call after her, and Jordan gives me a thumbs-up without looking back.
----------------------------------------
The locker rooms are crowded and humid, the air thick with the smell of chlorine and the sound of flip-flops slapping against tile. I stake out a corner near one of the benches, rummaging through my bag for my minicomputer while Ben helps Liam figure out the locker system.
Sam is the last to change, waiting until the others have scattered to nearby stalls. I watch her carefully, trying not to hover but unable to stop myself from keeping an eye on her. She pulls her hoodie off first, revealing the tank top underneath, and I catch the faint wince she tries to hide as she moves her right arm. Her torso is still a mosaic of scars and burns, the angry red of the newer ones standing out against the older, paler marks that crisscross her arms and back.
I've seen them before--when we were wrapping her arm this morning, or when I catch her changing out of the corner of my eye--but seeing them here, in the harsh fluorescent light of the locker room, feels different. They're raw and undeniable. Everything she's been through, all at once.
Sam catches me looking and tenses, her good hand gripping the hem of her tank top. "It's fine," she says quietly, her tone sharp but not unkind.
I force myself to nod, swallowing the protective instincts that rise unbidden in my chest. "Just make sure your wraps stay on in the water, okay?"
"Okay," she says, and her voice softens just slightly.
She finishes changing quickly, pulling on the wetsuit she insisted on bringing for extra coverage. It's not subtle--the thick material and extra waterproofing layers make her look like she's gearing up for deep-sea diving--but it does the job. She tugs the sleeves down carefully, and for a moment, I think I see her relax.
----------------------------------------
The water park itself is obvious sensory overload. The massive indoor space stretches as far as the eye can see, a cacophony of water slides, wave pools, and neon-colored play areas. The air is warm and damp, the faint tang of chlorine clinging to every surface. Kids dart around in every direction, their shouts and laughter echoing off the high ceilings.
We find a spot near one of the quieter pool areas to set up our "base camp." Ben spreads out towels on a couple of lounge chairs while Liam and I arrange the bags and snacks we brought along. There are tables nearby for parents to sit and supervise, though most of the adults are either chasing toddlers or trying to wrangle overly excited tweens.
Maggie and Jordan are already racing toward the wave pool, Maggie dragging Sam behind her with single-minded determination. Sam doesn't protest--at least, not visibly--but I notice the way she hesitates at the edge of the water, her hand brushing the edge of her wetsuit. She glances back at Kate, who is lingering near the chairs, her inhaler clutched tightly in one hand.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"Go on," Liam says gently, giving Kate an encouraging nudge. "You don't have to do much. Just dip your feet in if you want."
Kate doesn't look convinced, but she nods and moves toward the water, her movements careful and deliberate. Tasha follows quietly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, leaving her headphones with us.
I settle into one of the lounge chairs, pulling out my tablet and adjusting the brightness to compensate for the overhead lights. Ben sits beside me, flipping through his phone, while Liam heads off to grab drinks from a nearby stand. The kids are already scattered across the park--Maggie is climbing the stairs to one of the slides with Jordan, Sam is floating cautiously in the wave pool, and Kate and Tasha are sitting on the edge, their feet dangling in the water.
It's a strange kind of peace, watching them from here. The noise of the park fades into the background as I open the library app on my minicomputer, scrolling through the latest articles on collection development and outreach programs. It feels good to focus on something concrete, something manageable, even if only for a little while.
"Quiet moment?" Liam asks as he returns, setting a drink down on the small table between us.
"For now," I say, glancing toward the wave pool where Maggie is splashing Jordan with unbridled glee. "Give it fifteen minutes."
He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "You're probably right."
Ben looks up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. "Are we taking bets on who falls first? Because my money's on Maggie."
"Bold choice," Liam says. "I was going to go with Tasha. She's too quiet--she'll get dragged into something, mark my words."
I smile faintly, letting their banter wash over me. The kids are happy, for now. That's enough for me.
----------------------------------------
The minutes stretch into an hour, the rhythm of the park settling into something almost soothing. The kids flit between the wave pool, the slides, and the lazy river, their laughter and shouts blending into the ambient noise. I keep one eye on Sam, noting the way she moves carefully, avoiding the faster-paced attractions in favor of floating or wading near the edge. She's cautious, but she's smiling--small, fleeting smiles that feel like victories.
"Looks like she's having fun," Liam says, following my gaze.
"She needs it," I reply quietly. "They all do."
Liam nods, his expression thoughtful. "You think they'll talk?"
It takes me a moment to realize he's talking about Sam and Kate. I glance toward the pool, where Sam is standing near the edge, her gaze flicking briefly toward Kate before shifting away. Kate is laughing at something Tasha said, her usual guarded expression momentarily replaced by something softer.
"I hope so," I reply.
----------------------------------------
The air around the pool is warm and humid, a constant haze of chlorine and echoing laughter. The kids have scattered again, off to explore the slides and lazy river, leaving the adults at the table. Ben and Liam are locked in a surprisingly passionate debate about the merits of various grilling techniques - such a stereotypically fatherly thing it makes me question, for a moment, who I married - but their voices fade into the background as Sam approaches.
She moves carefully, as she always does these days, her steps measured and deliberate. Her wetsuit clings awkwardly to her frame, bulkier than anything else around her, but she doesn't seem to care. Or maybe she does, and she's just good at pretending.
"Hey, Mom," she says, stopping just short of the table.
I look up from my minicomputer, setting it aside. "Hey, sweetheart. Done swimming already?"
"Taking a break," she says, glancing toward the water. Maggie and Jordan are racing each other across the wave pool, their laughter cutting through the noise. "Can I... can I talk to you? Alone?"
My chest tightens at the request, but I keep my face neutral. "Of course. Let's find somewhere quieter."
We end up at the edge of the park near the snack bar, where the noise is muffled and the smell of nachos and popcorn hangs in the air. Sam sits on the edge of a low wall, her hands folded in her lap, her posture tense.
I don't press her to start. I've learned to wait, to let her find the words when she's ready.
"It's about... something that happened last week," she says finally, her voice low. "Something with, um, a bad guy."
I don't say anything, just nod for her to continue.
She hesitates, fiddling with the edge of her wetsuit. "You saw the news, right? About the fire? The one at Kate's house?"
"I did," I say carefully. "I also saw you on the news," I continue. Her head snaps up, eyes wide, but I press on before she can say anything. "I figured it was you. And I figured that fire wasn't random. It was Aaron McKinley, wasn't it? The arsonist."
Sam's silence is answer enough.
"And I figured," I continue, my voice steady, "it probably wasn't just about Kate. He came after her because of you, didn't he?"
Sam exhales sharply, like a balloon deflating. "I told you to go stay with Pop-Pop for the weekend," she says quietly.
"I figured it was personal," I say, reaching out, covering her hand with mine. "I'm not mad at you for protecting us, Sam. I'm just trying to understand what happened."
Her gaze drops to her lap. "He tried to kill me," she says, the words blunt and unvarnished. "And... he almost did. He set Kate's house on fire. She wouldn't have made it out if I hadn't gotten there."
I nod, my stomach twisting. "And what happened to him?"
Her jaw tightens. "I stopped him," she says, and there's an edge to her voice, something raw and defensive. "I--" She stops, shakes her head, and tries again. "I broke his shoulder. And his elbow. He couldn't fight back after that. He was already on the ground, and I just wanted to make sure he understood that I... you know, I don't know, that I meant business. That his actions had consequences. But, I mean... Did I need to do that? The police were already there. He was in a corner."
I stay quiet, letting her find her way through it.
"I found out yesterday," she continues, her voice barely above a whisper. "Through the grapevine. The surgery didn't go well. They put pins in his shoulder and elbow, but... it wasn't enough. He'll never be able to use that arm the same way again."
She finally looks up, her eyes searching mine. "I feel... bad. I expected it to feel good, you know? Like justice or something. And it did, at the time. It felt satisfying in this... gross, animal way. Like what a cat probably feels when they catch a bird. But now I just feel awful. Like I ruined his life. He was already going to get arrested, why did I make it worse?"