Sarah Allen - The Girl Who Chased the Moon

Julia set the glass back on the tray. “Am I really your best friend?”

“Of course you are.”

“But you used to laugh at me in high school.”

Surprised, Stella sat down heavily on the chair opposite Julia. “High school was a long time ago. Are you saying you can’t be my best friend now because of what happened back then?”

“No,” Julia said, being honest with herself for the first time in a long time. Her friendships in Baltimore had never felt like this. Her friends there had accepted her for who they thought she was. Stella accepted her for who she really was. This place defined her. It always had. Stella knew that. “I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“That’s more like it,” Stella said. “Now, tell me everything .”

THE FIRST thing Sawyer said when Julia opened the door a few hours later was, “Let’s get this out of the way. There’s nothing going on between me and Holly.”

Julia leaned against the doorjamb. It was so nice to see him, but there was so much that needed to be said. “The two of you look good together. You match. Have you ever considered getting back together?”

“I don’t want to match. Holly is selling me her part of the house we own together here. She’s getting remarried in a couple of weeks. She’s pregnant. I completely forgot that she was coming to town this weekend.”

“That was my fault. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do it again.” He tried to step into her apartment, but she froze, her hand on the doorknob. He stepped back. “You don’t want me to come in?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve always treated this place as temporary. There’s not much to it.” After all this time, she couldn’t believe she was still embarrassed.

“I don’t care what your apartment looks like.”

“Automatic response. Sorry.” She opened the door wider.

He stepped inside with a deep breath and a satisfied smile. He put his hands on his hips and looked like he’d conquered the New World. “I’ve wanted up here ever since you’ve been back. And it’s not what you’re thinking. On Thursdays when I have pizza with Stella, that incredible smell from whatever you happen to be baking… it never fails to make me heady.”

“Could you see it?” Julia asked.

“I can always see it. It’s on you now, sparkling in your hair.” He pointed to her hand. “You have some in the cuff of your sleeve, too.”

Julia turned the cuff inside out and, sure enough, flour and sugar from that morning sprinkled out. “That’s amazing.”

“Are you going to give me a tour?” Sawyer asked.

“We can do it from here.” She pointed to each door. “Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room.” She led him to the tiny living room and invited him to take a seat. She remained standing, too nervous to sit. “Stella’s mother gave me that love seat. I have a nice couch of my own in storage up in Baltimore.”

“Do you think you’ll bring it down?”

“I don’t know.”

He sat back, obviously making a concerted effort not to push the subject. “Did you actually get into a fight with Beverly at your restaurant this morning?”

That made Julia suddenly laugh. “Did Stella tell you, or did word travel that fast?”

“Both. What happened?”

“I had a few things to get off my chest. So did she, apparently.”

“I heard that you said you weren’t selling the restaurant,” he said carefully.

“What can I say? I’m as surprised as you are.”

“What about your two-year plan?” He hesitated. “Does this mean you’re staying?”

She didn’t answer right away. “You know that big thing I wanted to tell you? I’m going to tell you now. Then I’m going to leave you alone to let you think about it, okay?”

A guarded look came to his face. “Alone, as in leaving and never coming back?”

“Alone, as in leaving this apartment for a walk,” she said. “Then, who knows?”

“Okay,” he said. “Lay it on me.”

“Stay right there.” She went to her bedroom and reached under her bed, feeling around until she found the old algebra textbook she had hidden there. She opened the book and looked at the two photos she had of her baby. Sawyer’s baby. She’d put the photos in this book when she was at Collier, and could never think of anywhere else to store them. She set the book on her bed and took the photos to the living room. She felt jumpy, and her skin was alive with a thousand prickles.

He looked up at her as she entered. Before she could talk herself out of it, she held the photos out to him and he took them.

She watched as he looked at them, confused at first, then alert. He met her eyes with a short, quick jerk of his head.

“She was born on May fifth,” she said. “Six pounds, six ounces. She looked nothing like me and everything like you. Blond hair and blue eyes. A couple from Washington, D.C., adopted her.”

“I have a daughter?”

She nodded, then left before he could ask any more questions.

HEAT RADIATED from the metal bleachers in blurry, undulating light. Julia’s spot when she was a teenager was where the top bleacher butted against the enclosed media box, forming a pocket of concrete shade.

She hadn’t been here since she was sixteen. It felt different, but eerily the same. From here, she could see down onto the fifty-yard line where it had all happened, where her life had changed. The lumbering brick school building on the far side of the field was quiet, but the windows were open, indicating that teachers were in their classrooms, getting ready for the new school year. The cafeteria was on the ground floor and faced the field. She thought of what Sawyer had said about how he used to watch her on the bleachers at lunch.

She’d been there for at least an hour, wondering how much time he needed with this, or if all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough, when something suddenly caught her eye and, on the left side of the field, she saw Sawyer walking toward her.

He stopped at the base of the bleachers and looked up at her. The photos were in his hand. It was hard to tell his expression. Was he mad? Would this change everything all over again? The protective part of her steeled herself for that possibility, even though she knew she wasn’t as easily hurt as she’d been when she was sixteen. She had a lot fewer expectations than she did then. She had a very long list of Things She Would Never Have, and Sawyer had always been on that list, along with her daughter, long fingers, and the ability to turn back time.

He started up the bleachers toward her. The first step he took, he was sixteen, blond and cherubic, the wish every girl in school made when she blew out candles on her birthday cake. With every step he took, he got older, the cherubic cheeks giving way to sharper cheekbones, his skin growing more golden, his hair a darker blond. By the time he reached her, he was the Sawyer of today, of this morning… of last night.

Without a word, he sat beside her.

“How did you know I would be here?” she asked, because even she didn’t know she’d be here until she’d walked by and saw the school.

“Just a hunch.”

“Go ahead,” she said. “Ask.”

“I don’t have to ask the big question. I know why you didn’t tell me.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you know where she is now? What she’s doing?” He looked at the photos. “Her name?”

“No.” She tugged on the cuffs of her sleeves. “The papers are sealed. I can’t find her unless she wants to find me. You said you followed the scent home when your mother baked, so I have it in my head-in my heart-that if I just keep baking, she’ll find me. That this will bring her home.” Julia looked down, then across the field. Anywhere but him. “I think she has your sweet sense. I couldn’t eat enough cake to satisfy her when I was pregnant.”