Sara's Moon (Moons of Mystery Book 1)

by S Bolanos

  “Michael, these are my parents. This is Peter.” I gestured to the man with a shock of red hair that remained vibrant despite his age. “And this is Tom.” To my alarm, Tom’s blond hair seemed to have gotten grayer in the two years I’d been away.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Michael said with a smile as he extended his hand to shake each of theirs in turn.

  “And you as well, though I confess, it would’ve been nice if Sara had given us a little more to go on besides your name,” Tom said smooth as silk. Peter shot him a look that Tom blatantly ignored. The scent of anxiety stung the air as he held Michael’s hand hostage.

  “I assume you two are dating?”

  Michael hesitated and I floundered. I was so unprepared for this. Was there a right answer? And who was supposed to answer it? Was it a question?

  Peter rescued us all when he cleared his throat. Tom dropped Michael’s hand, but the steel in his eyes remained. “What do you say we move this inside?” Peter suggested.

  Michael followed hot on his heels, while Tom ushered me inside with a look that said words were coming. Tom was very good at words and if the scene outside was anything to go by, they promised to be a doozie.

  “Do y’all mind if I excuse myself to the restroom?” Michael was no fool, he knew trouble when he smelled it.

  “Not at all,” Tom replied, his intense blue eyes never straying from my face.

  “Why don’t you use the one upstairs, it’s right across from Sara’s old room. I’ve refreshed the linens,” Peter added. I dropped Tom’s intense gaze to stare in shock at Peter.

  “Sounds great. Thank you, Mr. Sheppard,” Michael replied politely before retreating to the stairs that he promptly took two at a time, abandoning me to the mercy of my unblinking fathers. I shuffled my feet and tried not to look as guilty as I was sure I did. After another moment, Michael could clearly be heard moving around on the second floor.

  I'd gathered my nerves to start explaining myself when two pairs of arms encircled me. It wasn’t the bone-crushing embrace I’d become accustomed to, but it was pretty close. Then, abruptly, I was pushed away.

  My dad’s eyes bored into me. “What were you thinking?”

  “Why didn’t you call? You're more important than some trip,” Tom said practically on top of Peter.

  “What’s really going on?” Peter’s question cut to the quick of everything. Tom flashed him a brief look.

  “And who is that?” Tom demanded to know. “You’ve never mentioned you were dating, and neither of you seemed too sure about it at the front door.”

  I swallowed past the dryness dominating my mouth. We’d been here all of five minutes and I already felt overwhelmed. “I’ve mentioned him before.”

  Tom’s eyes narrowed and Peter scowled. “The only men I’ve heard you talk about were your pig of a boss and the office heartthrob,” Tom responded.

  Peter’s scowl dropped and he glanced toward the stairs. “No,” he said in awed disbelief. I shrugged my shoulders and gave them an awkward smile.

  “No,” Tom echoed, catching on. “That’s the office hottie?”

  “He is attractive,” Peter noted. Tom smacked his partner in the chest, while I turned redder than the poppies that grew in the garden. “What? I have eyes, Tom.”

  Tom frowned. “Sometimes I wonder why you ended up with me. You clearly have a type.”

  “Yes, I do, and even after forty years, he still sleeps like some deranged octopus,” Peter responded without missing a beat.

  Tom’s mouth hung open in search of an adequate response. Meanwhile, I covered my face. How much worse was it going to be when I told them I was a werewolf if I couldn’t even convince them I was dating Michael?

  “Sara, why didn't you tell me your house is haunted?” Michael asked as he ventured back down the stairs.

  My head spun in the effort of following the dramatic shift from the conversation I'd been having with my displeased parents. “Because it’s not.”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine the ghosts upstairs, and besides,” he scrunched his nose, “it smells funny. No offense.”

  “It smells like home and it’s not haunted.”

  “Yes, it is,” three voices said together.

  I spun around to face my dads. “What do you mean it’s haunted? I’ve never seen anything.”

  “Sure, you have, sweetie.” Tom wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. Gone was the terrifying figure that had greeted us at the door. In his place was the wonderfully goofy man I'd called Daddy for the last twenty-eight years.

  Peter chuckled and added, “Who do you think your imaginary friends were?” I stood there plainly flabbergasted. “Remember Helga?”

  “Helga? I haven’t thought about her in over a decade.”

  “Oh, she won’t like that at all,” Tom said with a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

  “That’s not funny, Daddy.”

  Peter rolled his eyes at Tom’s blatant mischief. “She’s a ghost.”

  “She hates your dad by the way,” Tom whispered in my ear, though not quietly enough for Peter not to hear. He frowned and shrugged his shoulders, lending credibility to the statement.

  In yet another shift that left me reeling, my dad dropped the topic of ghosts in favor of the one more likely to make me squirm. “Let’s have a seat at the breakfast table. I think you’ve put us off long enough.”

  “I believe you owe us quite an explanation for your behavior,” Tom added as he led the way down through a passage to my right. I glanced back at Michael who simply shrugged before following after them.

  Once situated, I launched into most of the sordid tale. I had to repeat parts of the haphazard story as I wandered and skipped through it. In the end, their only reaction was the wide-eyed shock plastered on their faces.

  “So, yeah, I’m a werewolf now.” They both frowned at me and I fought the urge to squirm beneath their collective stare.

  There was little doubt in my mind which parts they’d taken issue with; though, much like Charline, they seemed to be handling the werewolf part pretty well.

  “In case it wasn’t obvious, I am too,” Michael added. They seemed less than impressed and still angry.

  “If it hadn’t been for Michael, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”

  Peter slammed his glass down and I flinched. It was rare to see him upset, but I'd done it. “I swear, Sara. Did it ever occur to you to reach out? I know you wanted to focus on being independent, but this…this is ridiculous. You insist on keeping me and Tom at arm’s length for the better part of two years and then, when something happens, you still keep us at bay. Why?” The anger and hurt in his voice twisted in my chest.

  “I was confused and then everything happened all at once. I’m not saying that’s an excuse. It wasn’t smart. I made a mistake.” Hot tears streaked freely down my cheeks. So much for keeping it together.

  Tom rubbed his temples. “I don’t understand. Do you hate us that much?” The question cut me to the quick.

  “No! I don’t hate either of you. If anything, I was afraid I’d end up back here.”

  “You know we wouldn’t do that to you. You’ve worked so hard to get that job and build a life for yourself. Hell, you’re even dating.” Tom gestured to Michael. It didn’t seem like the best time to point out that was also a product of nearly dying.

  “I wanted to prove that I could handle it.”

  “This isn’t something that anyone is expected to ‘handle’ on their own. That is what family is for, what we’re for,” Peter said, reaching out to take my hand. As his fingers closed over mine, his eyes widened briefly and he shot a look at Tom before returning his concerned expression to me.

  “I know that.”

  “Then why? And I’m not talking about everything you’ve told us.” Tom glanced between Michael and me. “Why haven’t you let us come see you? You’ve barely talked to us in the last two years. Are you ashamed?”r />
  “Of course not,” I responded vehemently. “I was tired of being everyone’s burden. Poor Sara doesn’t have any friends. Poor Sara stays in her room all summer. Poor poor Sara. Going to Raleigh was supposed to be my chance to become the person I wanted to be, not the person I was. And when I failed miserably, I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

  “We could never be disappointed in you,” Tom said. Both Peter and Michael mirrored Tom’s shock. I'd never said out loud how much of a failure I believed I was.

  “Well, you should be. If I was more social, then I wouldn’t have been home alone and none of this would have happened.”

  “Sara, that wouldn’t have changed anything. He was following you before that,” Michael said in some misguided form of comfort. My parents immediately picked up on the detail I’d very intentionally left out.

  I rounded on him. “Oh? I was under the impression that he was in the habit of stalking weak, vulnerable women.” Michael’s mouth fell open. I turned back to my parents. “There’s that too. It wasn’t just a werewolf, it was a serial killer. So, yay, miracle I’m alive.” I shoved back from the table and Michael reached out for me. I evaded the comfort, trying desperately not to dissolve into a full-blown meltdown complete with wracking sobs and a snotty nose.

  “Honey we wouldn’t have made you come back home, if that’s what you were worried about,” Peter offered quietly with a reassuring nod from Tom.

  “I wasn’t worried that you’d make me come back, I was worried I would. That I’d give up and run home, too afraid to try again,” I said through hiccups. “Since the day I left, my life has been one disaster after another. I have one friend, no prospects, and I still haven’t finished unpacking. I’m a failure. I always have been and I always will be.”

  I shook with the force of the bitter tirade. My efforts at keeping the blowout at bay were not proving to be very successful. Michael’s gaze became an inescapable weight that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come back out.

  True to form, Peter noticed it as well, because he decided to give me the out I needed. “I think that’s enough for one evening. You two have had a long trip and an even longer few weeks. Why don’t you get some rest tonight and we can pick up tomorrow?”

  Tom looked at him incredulously. “Peter,” he said, his tone of disbelief evident.

  “Tom,” he replied, giving him a level look.

  Tom soured, but didn’t pursue the argument bubbling beneath the surface. After a few tense moments, he gave up his scowl and turned back to me. “Well, you’re here now. No matter what you think, you’re not a failure and you will not be running back home. Come on, give us a hug and then get some sleep.”

  I let out a breath, relieved that I’d have a modest reprieve before the grilling resumed. With a strong sniffle there was no point in hiding, I did as requested, carefully squeezing them both and earning myself some mussed hair.

  “It’s nice to meet you as well,” Peter said. “I trust we’ll get to learn a little more about you tomorrow.”

  Michael’s smile faltered at the look in Peter’s eye. He quickly bid everyone goodnight and started the trek upstairs. I gave my parents a smile then hurried to join him, though I wasn’t looking forward to what might be waiting for me after my outburst.

  “Your dads are nice. They really care about you. I’m sorry for slipping up about the homicidal part,” Michael said as soon as I entered the room.

  “It’s done.”

  “Sara, please look at me. I’m sorry. Growing up, I told my family everything.”

  “Well your family is werewolves, so it’s a little different,” I snapped.

  “Was. My family was werewolves.”

  I abandoned my study of the floor to look up at him. “What?”

  “My parents died during a hunting accident when I was thirteen.” Anger and bitterness laced the dire statement, flashing across his face like lightning.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  His eyes held a hardness I’d never seen before and for the tiniest moment it was like he was looking through me instead of at me.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He blinked and quickly averted his gaze to glare at the wooden floors. “All I’m saying is, human or were, your parents are here for you.” His fingers played with the fringe of the quilt folded on the bed. “So, you really didn’t know your house was haunted?”

  I welcomed the blatant shift in topic. “No. I mean, hearing some of the things they said, it makes sense, but it doesn’t feel any different to me.”

  “The way I understand it, not everyone is sensitive to them. Strange, considering they’re your parents.”

  A sharp spear of pain lanced through my chest at the cavalier statement. “I’m adopted, Michael. I’m not related by blood to Tom or Peter. I was abandoned as an infant and they became my family.”

  His face fell, but there was something in his eyes that suggested pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. I gritted my teeth and turned my focus to my own duffel. So what if we were both orphaned? It didn’t mean anything. His parents hadn’t willingly give him up.

  “Anyway, there have always been tall tales about this house and anyone who’s lived here. My dad—Peter—says that when he came here, everyone was convinced that my Great Aunt Alice was a witch. But she passed away long before I came into the picture.” My hands tightened around a bundle of clothes. “It never occurred to me that any of the stories might be true.” I unclenched my fingers, leaving the ruffled stack where it was. “And I’ve never seen any ghosts that I can recall, no matter what they say.” I straightened, having finally run out of air.

  “Guess that makes me more sensitive than you.”

  “That’s right, you’re Mr. Sensitivity, with all the feelings and making fun of your best friend for believing in soul mates.” I nudged him and smiled lightly, grateful that we weren’t going to plunge into my childhood issues.

  His laughter faded and he put down the clothes he’d been unpacking. “Are we going to talk about this?”

  “About what?”

  “When your parents asked if we were dating, you froze.”

  “I don’t recall you giving an answer either. Besides, it felt like a trap.” This also was starting to feel a bit like a trap.

  “Fine, I’ll give you that. But what about what we discussed on the way here?”

  “Charline and David?”

  Instead of answering, he asked a different question. “You know, you never answered your own question.”

  “Which was?”

  “Do you believe in love like that? In soul mates as you put it?”

  Here I thought I'd dodged a bullet only to stumble into a minefield. “The only love I’ve seen like that is my dads’. It doesn’t take much to realize they were meant to be together. I’ve heard pieces of their journey and if anything can make you believe in soul mates, that can.” I paused, not too sure where to go from there. “I mean, but that’s different. That kind of love doesn’t happen all of the time. Not everyone is fated to be with one person. I can see their love, but I never expected that for me.”

  “Why don’t you think the world will happen for you? You act like you're on the outside of everything looking in. If the last few months have done nothing else, you should know by now that you're not a spectator, the world happens to you, not around you. Bad things yes, but also good things. Unless you don’t think this is a good thing.” He motioned between us.

  I flinched back as if the gesture had struck me. A reaction that did not go unnoticed. I sank onto the edge of the bed with a groan, my mind reeling with a thousand different thoughts.

  “But I am a spectator. I always have been. Aside from the last couple months, nothing ever happens to me. I was abandoned by a well in some nameless town. The fact that I was adopted by Tom and Peter is the most remarkable thing about me. It’s everyone else who’s interesting, who has incredible lives.”

  �
��Sara.” My name hung in the air, a desperate plea to understand something that I myself didn’t. In its wake, silence fell heavy and awkward.

  “It doesn’t feel real,” I finally said. “So much is happening. This isn’t my life. I’m not even sure half of the time if I’m not actually in the hospital having some drug-induced dream.”

  “I’m real, Sara. This is real. But I need to know now if you don’t want it to be.”

  “Why is this something we have to talk about now? Haven’t I been through enough without having to run this gauntlet too?” The words snapped out of me and I instantly regretted them. He’d opened up to me about his past and now he looked as if I'd slapped him. I groaned and held my face in my hands. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you.” The gruff response held none of the tenderness I'd become accustomed to, he was talking to me like a grown woman because that’s exactly what I was.

  I sat there at a loss for what to say. When I didn’t answer, he did it for me.

  “You don’t have to say anything tonight. You’re right, a lot has happened. I can understand how it could feel a bit much. I noticed the room across the hall is made up as well. I’m going to sleep over there tonight.” He swung the open duffel onto his shoulder and walked out. He paused in the doorway and said over his shoulder, “But I do need an answer.” Then he was gone.

  I sat there alone, tears sitting heavy on my lashes, unable to find my voice. I did want it to be real, but the fear that it wasn’t clawed at me without mercy.

  24

  Let's Talk About Us

  I switched my clothes from the day before to give the appearance of freshness and walked over to the hall bath to wash my face, but the cold water wasn’t the shock I needed it to be. The mirror revealed that I looked as bad as I felt.

  I strained to see if I could hear anything from the other room—the one Michael had vanished into—but was rewarded only with silence. I hung my head, giving it up and trudged downstairs, uncertain of what kind of reception would await me.