Sarah Allen - The Girl Who Chased the Moon

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.