The Girl Who Chased the Moon

Chapter 7

Piney Woods Lake was exactly that-a lake in the middle of a thick nest of pine trees. It looked like water in a deep blue bowl, like it could be accidentally tipped out and poured into the surrounding countryside. Julia parked her old black Ford truck, which had belonged to her father, in one of the last spaces in the crowded parking lot above the boardwalk. It had been a long time since she’d been out here. The last time was probably with her father, pre-Beverly. She’d forgotten how beautiful it was. When she and Emily got out, they were assaulted by a cacophony of summertime scents and sounds. Wet sand, coconut oil, boat motors, kids laughing, music playing.

“It’s so loud!” Emily said. “I like it already.”

“Your mother liked it out here, too, as I recall. I remember hearing about a place in the cove where Sassafras would meet and rule over the beach all summer,” she said as she swung her beach bag over her shoulder and led Emily across the hot, gummy parking lot.

They walked down to the boardwalk, and from there to the beach. Because of the crowds, they had to walk in single file. Julia kept looking back to see if Emily was keeping up. Emily smiled the entire way, stopping to take off her shoes, then running to catch up.

They finally stopped at a place halfway between the boardwalk and the cove. There were houses above the beach on this end of the lake, large houses with glass walls overlooking the glittery blue water. As Julia took two towels out of her bag and spread them on the sand, Emily shaded her eyes from the glare of sun and looked around. “Were you meeting Sawyer here?”

“No. Why?” Julia asked as she shimmied out of her white shorts, revealing the bottom half of her red bikini. She left her gauzy long-sleeved shirt on over her red bikini top, though.

“Because he’s coming this way.”

Julia immediately turned to see him walking down the beach toward them. Sawyer stood out too much to blend in anywhere, but the closest he came was here, with the sun and the sand. He was golden. A sun king.

“He’s nice,” Emily said wistfully. “The moment I saw him, I knew he’d have an accent like that. I don’t know why.”

“Some men you know are Southern before they ever say a word,” Julia said as she and Emily watched Sawyer’s progress, helpless, almost as if they couldn’t look away. “They remind you of something good-picnics or carrying sparklers around at night. Southern men will hold doors open for you, they’ll hold you after you yell at them, and they’ll hold on to their pride no matter what. Be careful what they tell you, though. They have a way of making you believe anything, because they say it that way.”

“What way?” Emily asked as she turned to her, intrigued.

“I hope you never find out,” she said.

“You’ve been spoken to that way?”

“Yes,” she said softly, just as Sawyer stopped at their towels.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Hi, Sawyer,” Emily said as she sat down.

Julia sat on the towel next to her and stuffed her shorts into her beach bag. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Julia,” he said. “Bear hunting?”

She squinted up at him. “Is that a euphemism for something?”

He ignored that and sat on her towel at her feet. She could see her reflection in his sunglasses as he stared at her. What was he doing? Why was he being so familiar? The eighteen years of silence while she was gone, along with the year and a half of cold shoulder she’d given him since she’d been back, should have been more than enough to discourage him from sitting on her towel on the beach, inches away from her bare legs.

Yet here he was.

And all because she’d told Stella that she made cakes because of him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“My sister is in town for the weekend,” he said. “She and her daughter are staying at the family’s lake house. I came to see them.”

“So this has nothing to do with my telling you I was taking Emily out here today?” she asked skeptically.

“Now, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“Everything is easy for you, Sawyer.”

“Not everything.” Before she had a chance to respond, he nudged his chin in the direction behind her. “There’s my niece. Ingrid!” he called.

Julia and Emily turned to see a pretty redheaded teenager change course and walk over to them. Julia seemed to remember Sawyer’s older sister having red hair.

“This is Julia Winterson,” he said to his niece.

Ingrid smiled. “I recognize the pink streak in your hair. I see you sometimes in town when my mom and I visit,” she said. “I love it, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Julia said. “This is Emily. She just moved here.”

“Some kids over in the cove are having a cookout party and they asked me if I wanted to come. I’m going to ask my mom. Do you want to come, Emily?” Ingrid asked.

Emily looked at her blankly. “What is it for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it a club?”

“It’s a party,” Ingrid said, giving Emily a questioning look as she turned to leave. “I’ll be right back.”

Emily still looked confused.

“You’re making this out to be harder than it really is,” Julia said, laughing as she patted Emily’s hand. “All you have to say is ‘I’d love to come!’”

“Like this,” Sawyer said. “Julia, would you like to go out with me Monday night?”

“I’d love to!” she playacted. “See? Easy. It’s just a party. Didn’t you go to parties at your old school?”

“Well, I helped organize parties with my mom. Usually fundraisers. And some community service clubs at school used to have end-of-the-year parties.”

“What kind of school did you go to?”

“Roxley School for Girls. My mom helped found it. It’s a school based on social activism and global awareness. Volunteering is part of the curriculum.”

There again was that hint that Dulcie might have done some good with her life. Emily had mentioned something about it before, about Dulcie and her causes. As unbelievable as it seemed, Dulcie must have changed when she left here. “Well, there’s no reason for this party. It’s just for fun.”

Emily gave her a dubious look.

Julia laughed again. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right here when you want to go home. No pressure.”

Ingrid came back shortly and said, “Are you ready, Emily?”

Emily stood, put on a smile Julia was sure she didn’t mean, and walked away with Ingrid.

“Who would have thought Dulcie would have raised such a decent girl?” Sawyer said.

“She is a nice kid, isn’t she?”

“You’re good with her. And no, I’m not surprised.”

Julia shrugged uneasily, realizing she was alone with him now and she couldn’t run away from what she knew he wanted to talk about. “I figure she needs someone she can turn to until she gets settled. I remember what it was like being that age. And believe me, I’m profoundly grateful to be on this side of it now.”

Sawyer was quiet for a moment as he studied her. She wished he would take off his sunglasses. She didn’t like seeing how uncomfortable she looked.

It was natural, she supposed, to be tense around him. Your peers when you’re a teenager will always be the keepers of your embarrassment and regret. It was one of life’s great injustices, that you can move on and be accomplished and happy, but the moment you see someone from high school you immediately become the person you were then, not the person you are now. When she was around Sawyer, she was the old Julia-the messed-up daughter of a man who hadn’t finished high school and cooked barbecue for a living. Sawyer never did anything to make her feel that way, but it inevitably happened. She could blame a lot of things on him, but not that.

“Why don’t you take off your shirt?” he finally asked.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “You know why.” She reached over to her beach bag for a bottle of water, but Sawyer caught her arm.

He held her arm and slowly pushed the sleeve up. It took great effort not to snatch her arm away. She had to remind herself that he’d seen them before. Most people had. She couldn’t hide them all the time.

He trailed his thumb over the scars. Some were as thin as wire, others were thick and raised. It was a surprisingly tender thing to do and it made her heart ache, just a little.

“Who did you turn to when you were her age, Julia?”

You. “No one. That’s how I know.” She slid her arm out of his grasp. “I don’t like to get sun on them. A tan makes them look worse.”

“Did you ever feel like you could turn to your dad or your stepmother?”

“Dad didn’t know what to do with me. And Beverly considered her job taking care of Dad, not being a mother to me. But she was the one who convinced him to send me away to school. I’ll always be grateful for that. Leaving this place probably saved my life.”

“And you can’t wait to leave again,” he said.

“Six months and counting.”

He sprawled out on his side in front of her, his head propped on his hand. “So, what time should I pick you up?”

“Pick me up for what?” she said as she found her bottle of water and took a sip.

“For our date on Monday. You accepted my invitation. I have a witness.”

She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. Go coax the shirt off someone else. Your charm doesn’t work on me. I have a force field deflecting it.”

“Please. You’d have no idea what to do if I turned it on full blast.”

“You’re not scaring me.”

“Yes, I am. And that’s why I’m stopping. I want to talk about it, Julia,” he said. “But not now.” He rolled onto his back, the golden hairs on his legs and arms sparkling like spun sugar.

“You don’t get to decide that,” she told him. He didn’t respond. She waited for him to go away, but he didn’t. He might have even fallen asleep.

She took a book out of her bag and moved as far away from him as she could, wondering what pitiful part of her heart actually enjoyed this, his nearness.

The part that would always be sixteen years old, she supposed, frozen forever before everything changed.

THE CLOSER they got to the party, the more nervous Emily became. She wouldn’t have thought twice about it if it hadn’t been for those old ladies. Now she was worried about what everyone would think of her. She kept telling herself that there was no reason why she shouldn’t fit in. She just had a temporary case of new-girl-itis.

The group was assembled away from the beach, in a small grotto formed by the trees at the back of the cove. Music was playing. Some kids were holding drinks in plastic cups. A couple of guys were playing touch football and getting in everyone’s way. There were a few adults there, one of whom was manning the grill and seemed to be master of ceremonies. He was a large, gregarious man with black hair and a booming voice.

Once they got into the thick of things, Ingrid left her alone. Emily walked to the periphery of the party, toward the back of the grotto by the trees. She took a few deep breaths. No reason to panic.

Julia said this was where Sassafras had gathered in the summer. Emily could tell that it had been a popular spot for kids for quite some time, because the tree trunks were covered with carvings of names and initials. One carving in particular caught her eye. It was a large heart with the initials D.S. + L.C. inside. She wondered if the D.S. stood for Dulcie Shelby. That made her smile. It was nice to imagine a boy who had once loved her mother so much that he’d carved their initials into a tree. Her mother hadn’t dated much in her adult life. The few dates she did have were with men she’d met through her work, and they’d all been brief flings. She’d never wanted anything serious. She’d been very open about that with Emily. Always make your needs and expectations known, she used to say. That way no one gets hurt. As far as Emily could tell, the only serious relationship her mother ever had was with Emily’s father, and even it hadn’t started out that way. They’d met during a high-seas standoff with fishermen over the killing of dolphins. They’d spent ten days on a boat together, and Emily had been the result. Her father had died in a Sea Shepherd boating accident two years later, trying to stop illegal whaling. Her mother and father had never married and Emily had no memory of him, so he was like most things in her mother’s past, mysterious and unmentionable.

As she was standing there staring at the tree, her back to the party, she suddenly felt something odd, like ribbons of warmth wrapping around her from behind. It was alarming, and she wanted to fight it at first, to fling her arms and shake whatever it was off. But she stopped herself because she didn’t want to look idiotic in front of all these kids. She waited it out and realized that it didn’t feel bad. Not at all. She closed her eyes and felt almost… comforted.

She opened her eyes again, and something made her turn around.

There was Win Coffey.

He had on long swim trunks, which were dark with water and sticking to his thighs. His hair was wet and dripping into his eyes, and he smelled like warm lake water.

She cleared her throat. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your suit,” she said.

A corner of his mouth lifted, amused. “It’s a different kind of suit.”

“But no bow tie.”

“Hard to swim in. I’ve tried.”

Her eyes went from his lips to his chin, then to the rivulets of water running down his bare chest. Embarrassed, she quickly met his eyes again. It looked as if he’d come right out of the water and made a beeline for her. But how could he have known she was there? How could he have seen her from the water? Over his shoulder, she could see that some kids were watching them and whispering to each other. Win didn’t seem to care. He clearly fit in. It had to count for something, his interest in her. “Do all these kids go to the same school?” she asked.

“Some are summer lake residents who leave in the fall,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Some are permanent residents who, yes, go to school here.”

“Mullaby High?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be a senior there in the fall.”

“I know. I will, too.” He ran both his hands through his dark wet hair, slicking it back. It almost made her breath catch. “Not that it isn’t nice to see you again, but I have to ask: What are you doing here?”

“Here?” she asked. “You mean at this party?”

“Yes.”

“Trying to blend in.”

“It’s not working. Prepare yourself.”

“For what?” And no sooner did she ask than a dark-haired girl in an orange bathing suit came to a stop beside Win.

“You’re Emily Benedict, aren’t you?” she asked, with the same combination of aversion and curiosity Win had had the first day she’d met him, but with a little more bite.

“Yes,” Win said before Emily could. “Emily, this is my sister, Kylie.”

“You weren’t invited,” Kylie said bluntly. “You’re going to ruin my party.”

“I… I came with Ingrid,” Emily said, feeling a hot prickle of embarrassment.

“You should leave.”

Win finally took his eyes off Emily to give a look of censure to his sister. “Kylie, stop being rude.”

“I’m not being rude. I’m serious. She should leave.” Kylie pointed over her shoulder. Win turned to see that the big man, the master of ceremonies, had left the grill and was slowly making his way toward them.

Win cursed. “Let’s go.” He took Emily by the arm and together they skirted the party, following the tree line. When they reached the regular part of the beach, Win stopped once they were out of sight of the grotto.

She rubbed her arm where he’d held it. The place where he’d touched her felt warm. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little taken aback at how fast that had happened. “I didn’t know it was a private party.”

They faced each other on the crowded beach, hot summer noise humming around them. “It’s not.”

It took a moment to sink in. It wasn’t a private party. That meant she wasn’t welcome. Just her. “Oh.”

“Has your grandfather told you yet?” Win asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“Told me what?”

“About your mother and my uncle. That’s what that was all about.” He nudged his chin back toward the grotto.

Confused as to why being kicked out of the party had anything to do with her mother and his uncle, she said, “Actually, I was hoping to run into you again so I could ask. You said next time I saw you you’d tell me.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? ‘Next time’ seemed so far away.” Win hesitated before he said, “My uncle committed suicide when he was a teenager.”

She wasn’t expecting that, and didn’t know how to respond. The best she could come up with was “I’m sorry.”

“He did it because of your mother.”

She felt a jolt of alarm. She suddenly thought of the initials on the tree. D.S. + L.C.

Dulcie Shelby and Logan Coffey.

“They were in love,” Win said, watching her closely. “Or, he was in love with her. His family didn’t want him to be with her, but he went against their wishes, against years of tradition. Then your mother turned around and broke his heart, like what he did, what he sacrificed, didn’t matter.”

Emily was desperately trying to make sense of this. “Hold on. Are you saying you blame my mother for his death?”

“Everyone blames her, Emily.”

“What do you mean, everyone?” She could hear her voice rising.

Win noticed, too. He adjusted the waistband of his swim trunks, then settled his hands on his lean hips. “I’m sorry. I should have thought how to say that in a nicer way. This is a little harder than I thought it would be.”

“Than you thought what would be?” she demanded. “Convincing me that my mother was responsible for your uncle’s suicide? I have news for you, my mother was a wonderful person. She would never do anything if she thought it was going to hurt another person. Never.”

Win suddenly looked over his shoulder, as if sensing something about to happen. “My dad is still looking for me. Come this way.” He took her hand and led her away from the water, toward the pine trees.

Her bare feet kicked up sand as she jogged to keep up with him. “Where are we going?”

“Out of sight,” he said, the moment she stepped onto the cool, pine-needle floor. The smell of rosin was strong. It reminded her of Christmas wreaths and red glass ornaments. It was a completely different world, a completely different season, than just a few steps away at the lake.

“I don’t have shoes on,” she said, pulling him to a stop.

He turned to her. “You seem to find yourself without shoes in the woods a lot.”

She wasn’t amused. “Why are you doing this?”

“Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me do what?” She threw her hands in the air, frustrated.

“Adjust.”

She scoffed at him, because if adjusting to this place meant believing what he said about her mother, she was never going to adjust.

Before she could turn to go back to the beach, he said, “Okay, here are the basics. Your mother was known to be spoiled and cruel. My uncle was gullible and shy. She used his feelings for her to trick him into revealing a long-held Coffey family secret to the entire town, just because she could. Then she turned her back on him. Devastated that he’d lost her and hurt his family, he killed himself. She left town without so much as an apology. I know it’s hard to hear. But this might go a long way in explaining why people here act… a certain way around you.”

“Act what way?”

His dark, arched brows rose. “You haven’t noticed yet?”

Emily hesitated.

“You have noticed.”

She shook her head. She was angry at him for saying these things, but she was even angrier at herself for actually standing there and listening. “You didn’t know my mother. I knew my mother. She would never turn her back on anyone.”

Win’s eyes went soft and sympathetic. It was clear he was sorry she was hurt by his words, but he didn’t look sorry that he’d said them in the first place. This was what he meant by the two of them having history?

“Why should I trust you, anyway?” she challenged him. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

He shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t. You probably shouldn’t have anything to do with me. I’m surprised your grandfather hasn’t told you to stay away from me already. He will soon, though. Mark my words.”

The wind picked up for a moment, brushing the treetops. A cascade of pine needles, both green and brown, suddenly fell down around them. Emily watched Win through the swarming needles, a peculiar enchantment coming over her. Who was this strange boy? What did he want from her?

“What secret did your uncle reveal?” she found herself asking.

He took a long time to answer, as if warring with himself. His lips finally lifted into a cynical smile, breaking the spell. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He gladly shared some secrets, yet he wouldn’t reveal his own. She should have no trouble casting aside anything someone so disingenuous would say. But still it lingered in her mind. And that made her furious.

She turned stiffly and walked back to the lake. Back to summer.

She made her way across the beach to where Julia was sitting cross-legged on her towel, reading a book. Sawyer was stretched out at her feet like a large marmalade cat.

Julia looked up when Emily’s shadow fell over her. “Emily? What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her book aside.

“Nothing. I’d like to go home, if that’s okay.” She suddenly, desperately, wanted to talk to her grandfather. He was her one true connection to her mother. He would tell her that what Win said was a lie.

Sawyer sat up. He took off his sunglasses. “You look upset,” he said.

“I’m fine.” She tacked on a smile for good measure.

“My sister was rude to her. I apologize.” Win’s voice behind her made her turn. She wasn’t aware that he’d been following her. He met her eyes, his expression troubled.

Sawyer stood. For someone so beautiful, he could certainly be imposing when he got angry. He was as tall as Win, but much bigger. “What did she say that upset Emily?”

Before Win could answer, Julia said, “That was your party?”

“My sister’s birthday party.”

“Jesus,” she said, grabbing her bag and quickly stuffing it with their towels, her book, and her water bottle. She stood. “I didn’t know. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

“I can take her,” Win said. “It’s on my way, and I need to be home before sunset anyway.” He held out his hand and, without thinking, Emily took it. She immediately came to her senses and tried to take it back, but he held firm. His hand was warm and dry, like he’d just taken off a glove.

“I’m taking her home,” Julia said.

“It would be no trouble.”

Sawyer took a step forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Win.”

Win stared at Emily for a moment before saying, “That does seem to be the consensus.” He finally let go of her hand. She missed the contact. It was crazy.

Julia put her arm around her and led her away. “Come on.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” Sawyer called after them.

“No.” Julia paused, looking back at him. Then she added, “But thanks.”

Julia and Emily walked across the beach and to the parking lot in silence. When they climbed into the truck, the black seats hot from the sun, Julia immediately put the key in the ignition. As much as Emily didn’t want to believe it, Julia’s reaction was giving some credence to what Win had told her.

“Win said his uncle committed suicide because of my mother,” Emily blurted out.

Julia started the engine. She obviously didn’t want to comment.

“That’s not true, is it?”

“Whether it’s true or not, he shouldn’t have told you,” Julia said, turning to her and touching her arm.

Emily almost came undone. She liked the maternal way Julia treated her, but it was just too much right now. “He said she was cruel,” she said, taking her hand away.

That made Julia wince a little. “This is something your grandfather has to tell you. Not me. And certainly not Win.” Julia stared at her a moment, her sympathy, her genuine desire to make things all better, clear in her every pore. “It took me a long time to realize this: We get to choose what defines us. It doesn’t make a lot of sense right now, but it will. Okay?”

Emily reluctantly nodded.

“All right, then.” Julia put the truck in reverse. “I’ll take you home to talk to your grandfather.”