Magic in the Moonlight: A Sweet Summer Romantic Comedy (The Magic of Moonrise Cove)

by Jules Barker

  Laurel had a hard time standing and, when she finally did, she could only hobble a few feet before her legs gave out on her. She leaned against a very uncomfortable boulder and felt her forehead. It was clammy and hot. Her fever was back. She wasn’t going to make it down to the water either, at least not until she rested awhile. She was stranded.

  She laid her head back on the rock and looked up at the stars. She was finally willing to cry, but found she didn’t have the energy for it. Instead, a few tears leaked out on their own, but Laurel was depleted. She couldn’t even think about if she should be worried right now. Should she? It couldn’t be too bad if she slept for a bit…

  She shivered.

  Sleeping sounded good.

  19

  Of Wishes and Regrets

  Laurel awoke to warm hands on her face. She thought she heard someone say her name, but it felt distant, like part of her dream. She murmured in reply.

  The voice came again.

  “Laurel. Laurel, I need to know. Do you need to go down to the water?”

  “The water?”

  “Yes. Do you need to go to the water or can I take you home?”

  Laurel blinked and tried to focus. Nate was crouched down in front of her, holding her by both shoulders.

  Nate was here. He would help her.

  Laurel nodded. She remembered she needed to cleanse her magic system in order to heal.

  Nate tucked her bag in her arms and scooped her up, carrying her carefully down the hill, her head bobbing against his shoulder. He set her down gingerly and she pulled her warming stone from the bag, but she was too weak to stand on her own for long. Nate scooped her back up again.

  “How does the stone work?” he asked.

  “I have to have it in the water and then––then I have to say the words to activate it.” She was so, so tired. Her thoughts were a fog she was trying to force into shape with her breath.

  Nate didn’t hesitate. He walked straight into the water, carrying Laurel in his arms, until he was chest deep. Laurel shivered against him, burying her face in his shoulder and whimpering. “It’s so cold.”

  “I know, Laurel, I know. I’m sorry.”

  The stone was cradled at her belly as he held her. Once the water lapped over it, Nate prodded her and she said the words.

  Slowly the water around them began to warm. Laurel’s shivers began to subside.

  After some time––Laurel didn’t know how long––Nate backtracked toward the shore. Laurel thought he was going to leave, and she hadn’t been out there long enough. She needed to stay.

  But instead of leaving, Nate found a shallower spot that was still within the radius of warmth from the stone and sat down, water up to his shoulders now, with Laurel cradled in his arms.

  He held her.

  Minutes passed, then an hour, and still he held her in the water, gentle waves lapping at her nape where her head rested on his shoulder, eyes closed. She felt herself slowly relaxing as her muscles loosened in the gentle heat. As she opened herself to it, the ocean water leached away the build up of emotions. First the ones from surges, then the ones from readings. Like sludge being drained from pipes, the clogged emotions poured out leaving her energy free to flow in its natural rhythm.

  Her breathing deepened and she burrowed into Nate’s shoulder.

  “Laurel?”

  “Hhmm?”

  “Is this enough?”

  “Enough?”

  “Yeah. Did the water do what you needed it to do?”

  Laurel smiled and opened one eye. “Yes. The water did what I needed it to.”

  “Good. Because my left leg is asleep and I’m pretty sure I’m a giant prune at this point.”

  Laurel chuckled weakly against his shoulder, but she could feel that it was the weak of the tired, not the weak of the sick.

  Nate awkwardly hoisted her out of the water with him. Wrapping her in the robe from her bag, he supported her back up the hill to the big house. As she climbed the hill slowly beside him, practically held up by his arm around her, Laurel’s alertness began to return. What day was it? Yes, Nate would be back from Montana by now. But why was he at her house and how had he found her? And had she really just spent the last hour cradled in his arms? She’d been so delirious but, had she snuggled into him? Heat that wasn’t from a fever warmed her cheeks and she turned her face away from him. She’d play it off as the delirium of the sick, if she had to. But no matter how she played it, she would tuck that memory away into her heart.

  When they reached the big house, they were both still wet, but at least she was in cotton pajamas. Nate was in jeans. That had to be uncomfortable. He helped her up the stairs and into Gran’s guest room where Laurel had been sleeping, then excused himself so she could change.

  Laurel was too tired to dig through her clothes to find another pajama set. Instead, she pulled on a giant t-shirt and climbed under the covers. She heard faint clinking coming from downstairs, and she drummed her fingers on the bedspread while trying to imagine what Nate was doing. She tried to avoid imagining what would happen next, but failed. Had he forgiven her for her outburst at the dance? Would he attempt to answer her question––what was she to him?

  Her fever was gone, she could tell, but she didn’t feel recovered enough to handle a conversation along the lines of “it’s not you, it’s me” or “I’ve always seen you as a sister”... Laurel picked up a pillow and buried her face in it. When she heard Nate’s steps on the stairs, she hurried to fingercomb her hair and leaned up against the headboard, making sure the bedspread covered her thoroughly.

  Nate knocked on the door, then entered carrying a tray of hot tea and buttered bread.

  “Here. You need something warm in you.”

  Laurel’s stomach gurgled. “Thanks,” she said, accepting the tray.

  Nate’s jeans were still damp, but there was nowhere else to sit in the room so he sat carefully on the edge of the bed, arms resting against his knees, staring off in thought. Laurel watched him as she chewed her bread. He was quiet. Too quiet.

  Laurel worried at his stillness. He turned to watch her and her awkwardness grew. Her behavior had been terrible. Losing her cool at the dance wasn’t great, true, but avoiding him afterward was worse. It was childish. She’d let her jealousy and embarrassment get the better of her. And then her fear. Had she ruined it all? A sliver of hope wrapped around her heart that maybe she hadn’t ruined it since he’d showed up to see her again. But why was he there?

  “What brought you around so late?” she asked between sips of tea.

  “I got back from Montana yesterday and debated coming over, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to see you.”

  Laurel felt a painful zing in her chest.

  “But then tonight, Old Agnes stopped me on my way out of the store. She said, ‘If wishes were fishes, you’ll lose yours soon. Butterflies need help eating their cocoon.’” Nate chuckled. “Then she rambled about not remembering if the ending was about a cocoon or a moon, and she wandered off, talking to herself.”

  Laurel managed a small smile. Agnes was known for her eccentricities on the island, but among those with magic, she was known for an uncanny sense of timing for her advice. But Laurel’s smile was a weak cover for her worry.

  “The butterfly thing made me think of you. I decided I couldn’t put it off and I wasn’t going to let you be an idiot and ignore me anymore.” He smirked at her. “When I got here, the side door was open and the tv was on, but the house was empty so I came looking outside. I remembered finding you at the beach last time and there you were. What were you doing anyway?”

  Laurel sipped her tea, stalling for time. “I haven’t been taking very good care of myself. I’ve been kind of preoccupied.” She grimaced. “And I skipped the last new moon and full moon, so I was way overdue for some magical maintenance.”

  “And that’s why you were sick tonight?”

  ‘Well, yeah. When one system of the body is out of alignment, it affect
s the others like for anyone else. I just have an extra system to manage.”

  Nate nodded heavily. “Do you need me to take you to the clinic just in case?” he said, looking over her face carefully.

  “No. I’m certain I’m on the mend now.”

  Nate sighed. “Your magic has its own set of rules, doesn’t it?”

  Laurel didn’t like the way he said that––so serious, with weight.

  He turned to face her directly. “Laurel. I mean to have a talk with you. Tonight isn’t the night. You’re still recovering and there’s been a lot going on. But soon. We need to clear up some things.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “I’m going to have my dad finish the last of the work on the cottage. There’s not much left to do and he’s ready to get back to work, at least slowly.”

  Laurel forced her lip not to wobble. She gripped her mug tightly.

  “And I think,” Nate continued, “I think we need to wrap up this part of our relationship.”

  Laurel willed her eyes not to fill with tears. She nodded, weakly.

  Nate ran his hand through his curls. “I can tell this is kind of a lot for you. I shouldn’t have said anything at all until tomorrow. I’m sorry.” He stood up.

  Laurel kept her eyes on her tea. She knew if she looked up at him, he’d see her devastation.

  Nate shuffled from one foot to the other.

  “Take care. Get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow, maybe over waffles?”

  He leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Laurel still couldn’t bear to look at him directly.

  He lingered and it felt like a goodbye.

  Laurel looked up just in time to see him slip through the door.

  20

  Brothers Don’t Always Suck

  Laurel watched the first rays of light creep in through the window. She watched them tiptoe across the wall. She watched them move up the foot of the bed and waited for them to reach her eyes because then the sting would give her a reason to be crying besides losing Nate.

  Because she had. She’d lost him.

  He so badly wanted to put distance between them and clarify their boundaries that he wasn’t even going to finish the cottage. He was calling in his injured dad to finish it for him. He wanted to wrap up their relationship. It was like a punch in the gut.

  Why had she called attention to it? Why had she pushed him to define what she was to him?

  Her words from the night of the dance came back to haunt her. If she’d given it time, maybe he’d have dated Vicki and moved on. If she’d given him time, he could have slowly grown to see her as more. She could have shown him she was more than his friend’s little sister. She’d screwed it all up.

  Was she destined to be alone? Childhood friends had abandoned her when she wanted to play pretend while they wanted to play more mature games. Nate left her when his life on the island was too hard. Simon left her for college. Her mom and dad had died right as she was on the cusp of adulthood. She couldn’t blame any of them for what happened, but the fact remained: Laurel had to go it alone. She had Gran, but for who knew how long?

  She wished she could crawl into Gran’s bed and throw her arms around her under the big quilt and cry.

  But Gran wasn’t there.

  Her mom wasn’t there.

  Only Laurel was there. Alone.

  So Laurel got up and did what she had to do. She wandered through the house in a worn-out robe, feeling as empty as the instant noodle containers she swept into the garbage. She made toast and ate it, sitting at the wooden table staring at the pattern of the grain and watching the clock tick past the minutes.

  Time sucked. How long had it been since she was a child? How long would it take for Nate to see her as a woman? How long until he called to arrange that talk and end her hopes for good?

  She pushed away from the table.

  She wasn’t ready.

  She walked to the front door, shoving her cell phone in the pocket of her robe and shoving her feet into a pair of old slippers. She moved through the front door, off the porch and across the lawn. She needed morning sun on her skin, to feel its warmth, to remind herself that life went on.

  Halfway across the lawn, she froze.

  Hanging from the large sycamore was a swing. Long ropes swung over the highest branch, down to a wooden seat painted rosy pink.

  Laurel wandered over, running her fingers along the delicate blue and yellow flowers painted along the seat. It was beautiful.

  She sat, facing the town as the sun lit it from the east.

  She rocked back and forth, then pushed off, pumping her legs until she was swinging high. She kicked off her slippers and swung, barefoot, her robe flapping behind her.

  And she laughed.

  She laughed until tears leaked out of her eyes and she couldn’t tell if they were sad or happy. They were probably both.

  This was Nate. He’d come and put up this swing to replace the one from her childhood. And as she flew in it, seeing the town from a new vantage with clearer eyes, she saw a few other things differently, too. Understanding dawned on her and warmed her heart.

  She skidded to a stop, dug out her phone, and called her brother.

  “Simon?”

  “Hey, Lars. What’s up?”

  Laurel could hear baby Emmie in the background. Simon was probably on dad duty.

  “I like Nate.”

  Simon was silent for a moment. Then he hollered for Gwen, hurting Laurel’s ear through the phone. “Can you take the baby for a minute? Lars is either trying to prank me or kill me.”

  Laurel grinned into the phone.

  “I’m outside now. What do you mean you like Nate?”

  “Just that. I like him. I’ve liked him for years.”

  “Well, I kind of thought you had a teenage crush on him but I figured you’d outgrown it by now.” Simon sounded befuddled.

  “Nope. I didn’t. If anything, knowing him as an adult has made me like him more.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless. I mean, I have a million things to say but… Why are you telling me this now?”

  Laurel considered. “Because I needed to practice saying it to someone before I tell him today. And because I wanted you to know. You being his friend doesn’t get to define what my relationship is with him, but I figured you wouldn’t want to be blind-sided later. Plus, if it doesn’t go well, things might get awkward for you…”

  “What do you mean if it doesn’t go well?!”

  “Well, he likes Vicki. And he might not see me as anything other than your little sister.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Ok.”

  Laurel pushed away the little doubt gremlin that rose up at his response. “Am I crazy, Simon? Do you think he could like me?”

  Simon hesitated, which caused a swirl of worry in Laurel’s chest.

  “Ok, sis. I just needed a moment to wrap my head around this. I mean, I don’t often see you as a… woman, you know? Like, a datable, kissable woman. But… yeah. Hell yeah. Nate could like you. Anyone could like you. You’re a great catch.”

  Laurel chuckled and played with the grass at her feet, using her toes to swirl it around. “And if he doesn’t?”

  “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t. You’ll live. You’re strong, Laurel. You’re soft and you're sweet, but you’re also strong. And it won’t ruin anything between the three of us. I’ll fly out there and force you both to watch an Invader Zim marathon with me and I’ll remind us all that we’re good together as friends if nothing else.”

  Laurel nodded even though Simon couldn’t see. “I have to do this, Simon. I realized––he came back to the island with a new appreciation for the town and the people and even his dad. He looked at it all with new eyes. But I didn’t. I didn’t truly ever see myself as anything more than your kid sister to him, so how could he?”

  Simon cleared his throat. “You’ve done alright, kid. How’d you get so smart?”

  “Thanks, Simon.”

 
; “Of course, you had the best older brother to lead the way so…”

  “Shut up. More like Gran.”

  Simon chuckled. “Go get him, Lars. But let me know if I need to book a plane ticket to come fix it all, okay?”

  “Ohmystars, you’re not helping my confidence. Bye, Simon.”

  “Bye, sis.”

  Laurel stared over the town for one more minute. Then she dashed off the seat and ran into the house, squealing. She had an outfit to pick.

  21

  Just Let Me In

  Nate seemed surprised that Laurel called him first, but he agreed to meet her at Pastries and Potions. Laurel was too nervous to stomach waffles, but the idea of a quiet but public place and a warm cup to hold in her hands while she confessed her feelings helped her be brave.

  She donned a chambray a-line swing dress with a winged collar, heart-shaped buttons down the front, and a thin leather belt. She appreciated that the flare of the skirt skimmed her hips and made them feel more like an asset than a liability. She swooped her hair back into a low, messy roll and tied a navy and white striped scarf around her neck. A smack of lipgloss and her cream espadrilles completed her outfit. She needed comfort and confidence today, and this look gave her both.

  She marched out of the house to her bike. She was a woman on a mission, dagnabbit, and nothing was going to get in her way. Not even her nerves. Nothing’s gonna stop me now she hummed to herself. She’d rolled down the driveway and was picking up glorious speed down the hill to town when her phone rang. Pulling to the wide shoulder, worrying it was Nate calling to cancel, she was confused by a number she didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, Laurel! Thank goodness. It’s Sheila Graham. I need your help right away. Donni ran away.”

  Laurel’s heart dropped into her gut. She barely registered the details Mrs. Graham gave her, but had the common sense to put her on speaker so she could type Donni’s home address into the notes on her phone.