Chapter 211: A Bit Too Awkward to Bathe Together
Maru made the run to the pension and back in a flash. She had no idea how hard she'd been flooring it. She'd told Yumi where she was going, yes—but she had still left three little kids alone at the beach. She'd warned them not to go in the water, so they probably hadn't, but you never really knew.
The moment she got back, she could breathe again. Jiyu, Yumi, and Hana hadn't gone near the sea at all. They were out on the sand, busy building a castle. Maru hauled a tent from the trunk. They'd be playing on the beach until sunset, and a tent was essential if they wanted any shade from the sun. She carried it over, and the children popped up the instant they saw her.
"Whoa, a tent!"
Hana whooped at the bundle in Maru's arms. For some reason it felt like raising a secret base of her very own, and she wanted it finished right away. Jiyu and Yumi crowded in beside her to stare at what Maru had brought.
"Kids, want to play at putting up a tent?"
She could have pitched it alone, but she'd decided to build it with them. Setting a tent up together had to be more fun than doing it by herself, didn't it? The children seemed to think so too. They clustered around and set to work. She'd chosen a model that went up the simple way, and it showed—the whole thing took hardly any time. Drive the poles into a decent stretch of sand, spread the canvas, and that was that.
They had the pension waiting anyway, so there was no need to fuss over every detail. Nobody was sleeping in it. Once the sun started to drop, they'd strike the tent and head back for a meat feast at the pension.
"Jiyu, press here! Right here!"
"Hiyah!"
"Ah! Wrong spot!"
A few trials and errors later, the tent stood successfully. Jiyu was the first one inside. There was nothing in there at all, and yet the wide, empty space still felt oddly cozy.
"I'm first!"
With that she flopped onto her back. They'd ducked in to escape the sun, but give it an hour or two and the tent would probably fill with hot air of its own. Seeing it was up, Maru ducked back to the car for a moment—and swung by a market while she was at it. She meant to pack cold drinks into an icebox bobbing with ice.
Once everything was set, she borrowed a parasol, planted it in front of the tent, and settled in to watch the children play. Jiyu, Yumi, and Hana were thoroughly occupied with one another. The sight pulled a pleased smile out of Maru. Hana really did belong with kids her own age. Getting along with the office staff up in the building was fine enough, but playing with her peers was better by far.
"Maru! Can we go in the ocean?"
Hana came trotting over to where she sat, soaked through with sweat. Maru nodded.
"Sure, you can go in. Just don't go anywhere too deep, okay?"
There were lifeguards on duty, and a line had been strung across the water to mark how far was too far. Step past it and they'd be stopped at once. Hana took that in, snatched up a beach ball, and went pounding off toward the others.
They'd brought swimsuits, but the kids didn't look likely to bother changing into them. Extra clothes were packed anyway, so it hardly mattered if they got wet.
The children came dragging back to the tent looking like drowned rats. However long they'd been at it, exhaustion was written all over them. Fair enough—they'd played at the shore until the sun went down. Maru, thankfully, had saved her strength, so she wasn't worn out in the least. And even if she had been, she couldn't very well look weak in front of the kids.
"Shall we head back to the pension?"
"Yeah!"
"Yes!"
Maru passed out towels, then added brightly,
"Change inside the tent, okay? Big sis will stand guard so nobody can come in."
Hana, though, hung back and wouldn't go in. She hesitated so long that Jiyu, already inside, called for her to hurry up.
"Hana, get in here! You're not getting in the car while you're dripping all over the place."
"M-Maru, do I really have to go in?"
"Hey now! None of that nonsense—in you go!"
Maru bundled her into the tent. Before long the freshly changed children came spilling back out. Jiyu laughed, bright as ever.
"Hana's so shy! Just like in P.E.!"
Yumi nodded along.
"Right? What is she so embarrassed about?"
Better if the children never found out. The moment they saw what Hana really was, they might scream as if they'd laid eyes on something that shouldn't exist.
At any rate, once Maru confirmed the tent was empty, she got to her feet. She took it down with practiced hands. A tent that easy to pitch was just as easy to strike—wasn't taking something apart simply putting it together in reverse? She ran through that little formula and had it folded in no time. Nothing was left floating in the icebox; she and the children had finished every last drink ages ago. She dumped the meltwater onto the sand and packed the box away on its own.
Maru carried the tent, the children hauled the various small things, and together they made it back to the parking lot.
"Have fun?"
"Yes! I want to come again!"
"Then we'll just come again next time!"
These kids had far more days of play ahead of them than behind, so if the mood struck, they could always come once more. Maru herself had more living left than not—and these children even more so. They'd outlast her by a long stretch, at the very least. Once they'd shaken the last of the water from their hair, they started climbing into the car. Hana got in with them.
"What do you guys want to eat?"
Stomachs growling, the children each named what they were craving. They hadn't eaten a thing since afternoon—breakfast was the last real meal they'd had. At least they'd guzzled enough drinks to fill their bellies with liquid. Otherwise hunger would have cut the swimming short.
"Meat!"
"Me too, meat!"
Meat it was. Maru grinned at them.
"When we get to the pension, there'll be piles of it! Big sis bought so much you can eat until you burst today!"
She knew exactly how much meat she'd pulled from the trunk earlier, and it was no small amount. The company had packed some on its own, then loaded on far more than necessary, insisting leftovers were no problem at all. Better to eat their fill and throw the rest away, they'd said, than to run out halfway through.
"Yay!"
Between the cheering and the chatter, the pension arrived before she knew it. Beautiful lights glittered across the garden. Looked at a certain way, it was less a pension than a private pool villa.
Lamps set along the paths seemed to welcome the children in. The whole place had an almost dreamlike air. Maru punched the code into the keypad and let them inside, then set the bags down on the floor.
"Kids! Wash up, then we eat!"
Soaked through with seawater, the children gave off a salty reek. There hadn't been anywhere to rinse off on the way, so towels had been the best they could do, and they looked itchy and uncomfortable for it. At Maru's word they went stampeding for the bathroom. As expected, she had to shove the hesitating Hana in after them—and then she turned to the barbecue.
She'd already spoken to the owner, and sure enough the middle of the garden was laid out perfectly for grilling. This was why working for a company paid off. The things one person could never arrange alone, the company simply handled, and a vacation finally felt like a vacation. Maru started pulling out the meat she'd stowed in the fridge.
Piece by piece she set it beside the grill waiting at the garden's center, then laid out seasonings, vegetables, and everything else that went well with meat. With the children to feed and herself the only adult, it didn't amount to all that much. Four people in all—one table was plenty for the vegetables, the ssamjang for wrapping, the drinks, everything. Traveling in a big group was fine, but a small, handpicked party was pretty wonderful too. The fewer people on a trip, the less there was to prepare.
Coming with the kids had kept the luggage remarkably light. Set the clothes aside, and it was almost a stretch to call the rest luggage at all.
She meant to be ready before they came back out, so she laid the meat across the grill, where the charcoal was already breathing up thin curls of smoke.