She Walks In Moonlight

by Jennifer Silverwood

  It was a struggle to keep my voice low. “I mean why was my brother puking his guts out this morning? Why is he running a fever, and why do you look like none of this surprises you? Peter said his case wasn’t that serious.”

  “It wasn’t. That is, we weren’t sure at first. His last doctor’s visit, some of his test results didn’t look so good.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You know from when your father had leukemia that there are different types of the blood cancer. Your father had the most aggressive, and at first, it looked like Peter’s was one of the more manageable. Now we know it’s more complicated than that. He will need chemo more than likely…”

  I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my hand to my lower chest and willed the air back into my lungs.

  “I called his doctor while you were out,” Hailey continued. “He wants him to come in tomorrow as early as possible. I can stay the night here and look after him if you want to watch the kids.”

  “I don’t know,” I started to protest. I didn’t want to say it out loud, that I wanted to make up for being a crappy sister. Because Hailey King knew. Hailey King knew how sick my brother was when I didn’t, and I wanted to hate her for that. Instead, I could only hate myself a little more.

  Hailey put her hand on my arm, and I jumped because I hadn’t realized she’d stepped into my space. “I’m calling the hospital. I can stay, take off today and tomorrow. They’ll understand.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

  A shadow of her usual sarcastic smirk came back then, and she let her arm drop. “I’m doing this for him, you know. You asked me how much I love your brother.” She turned to look at Peter’s motionless form on the bed, and I followed the rise and fall of his chest with a swift pang of regret.

  What I told her next was an even tougher pill to swallow. “You’re right. It will be better if I stay with the kids tomorrow. Are you… have you stayed the night here before?”

  Hailey nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times before you came. We haven’t been together that long, really.” She turned back to me with a strange look in her eyes. “I know Peter and I haven’t exactly been stable in the past. But things are different this time. I never really got over him before, and I don’t care about the cancer now. I want you to know that because I’m not going anywhere. I won’t do what she did to him.”

  Despite everything that had happened since I woke up that morning, I found myself smiling at Hailey King. “I won’t have to break your face, then.”

  12

  City Kids

  I woke up with the sun the next morning and felt as though I should have slept another twelve hours. This was more than a bad case of jet lag; this was pure exhaustion. The kids were still asleep when I tiptoed past their rooms.

  Thank you, God.

  Sasha had remained on silent strike all day yesterday, though when I left a bowl of macaroni by his bedroom door, it was missing an hour later. Anya had remained oblivious at first but wore me out with games of tutus and dancing in the Russian ballet. Hailey had only appeared occasionally with a look and a quick word. Peter was still stable, still sick, and still feverish. I had collapsed in bed minutes after putting Anya in hers.

  It wasn’t fair that I should wake up so early, but I was grateful too. After yesterday’s chaos, I was glad to make a cup of coffee in blissful silence. I wasn’t prepared for the doorbell to ring before I could enjoy my coffee.

  Mrs. King was smiling on the other side of the door. “Morning, Danica! Glad to see you up bright and early. Jet lag finally decided to go away, huh?” She bustled past me and into the house as though she had been there a dozen times before. Which, I supposed, she had.

  I took a second too long to shut the door behind her and followed as she entered the kitchen and prepped the stove.

  “Mrs. King, I’m glad you’re here and all, but what the hell are you doing?”

  She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Cooking breakfast, of course! I see you already got the coffeepot started.”

  “Yeah… um, what made you decide to come over?” I knew I should have just kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the fact that someone else was taking care of things, but it was too early in the morning for me to form cohesive thoughts.

  Mrs. King’s smile warmed, and her eyes practically bled kindness. “Hailey called me last night to let me know she wasn’t coming home.”

  Oh…

  “Have they left for his appointment yet?”

  I glanced back in the direction of my brother’s bedroom. Their cars were still in the driveway when I’d woken up that morning, and I hadn’t heard a sound come from the room since. I turned back to Mrs. King and shook my head. “Not yet.”

  I thought back to the blood on the toilet and the vomit all over the room, how the scent of it had clung to me even after I’d showered twice later that night. I didn’t think I could ever forget that smell or the way my brother had sobbed.

  “Danica?” Mrs. King placed her hand on my arm. “Why don’t you get out for a few hours? I’m sure there is something that needs doing. How about groceries? Have you had time to pick anything up for the week? The kids must and will have their PB&J.” She chuckled to herself and let go, returning her attention to the pancake batter she was mixing.

  I nodded. “Groceries, right. Um, yeah, I can go stock up. Are you sure you don’t mind?” I knew she didn’t, but I needed to hear her say it.

  “Course not! I’ll keep an eye on the kids until you get back. It’s my day off, anyway.”

  I grabbed my car keys off the key hook by the back door and jingled them in my hand. We needed the food, and I needed the sanity Mrs. King was offering. I grabbed my bag from the kitchen counter and walked out the door.

  When I was a little girl, my dad had been diagnosed with leukemia. All I knew then was it was a bad disease that made Papa too sick to get out of bed. One day he had been this vibrant, larger-than-life man, the next a shriveled shell of who he used to be. He lost weight and was constantly sick. Peter let me in to see him during the good moments, I realized now, when Papa was aware enough to still tell me stories of Baba Yaga and the Morning Star. Now Peter was sick, and I was keeping the kids out of the way. I guess it was best for them, but all I could think about was how I wished I’d known more back then.

  I drove past the grocery store twice before I realized I was avoiding the task Mrs. King had offered. I turned a different direction at the four-way stop the next time I came to it. Peter’s garage was already busy in spite of the hour. I pulled into the back lot and parked but left the engine running and my hands on the wheel. I wanted today to be part of my new normal, dropping my brother off at work and teasing Leach and the guys.

  For reasons I didn’t care to consider, I was staring up at the flat above the garage. I jumped when a hand knocked on the driver’s window, and I turned. My fingers fumbled with the button to lower the glass, and then there was nothing but air separating me from Adam King.

  I opened my mouth, ready to dish out a half dozen sarcastic remarks. Instead, I sat there, gaping at my first love like a fish, all because Adam King looked me in the eye and saw right through my mask.

  “Hey.” His voice was slightly hoarse and gentle in a way I didn’t deserve.

  “Hey.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, and his eyes followed the movement.

  “So, were you planning on coming inside, or did you just want to sit here a while longer? Either is cool with me. Just thought you might be hungry. You have been sitting out here the last thirty minutes.”

  “Hungry?”

  The left corner of his mouth pulled back into a grin. “Yeah, hungry.” He pulled open my car door and stood back with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing faded jeans and a tee that might have once been white before it was coated in grease stains. I gave him silent props for at least trying to wash it out.

  I stared at him a heartbeat longer and turned off the engine. “You sur
e about this?” Because if he was asking me to come into his home, a lot more must have happened at the Kings’ than I remembered.

  He lifted his chin in a quick nod, as I shut the door behind me. “I wouldn’t have asked you up if I wasn’t.”

  “Up? You mean I’m going to see the mysterious flat? Can’t decide whether I should feel honored or scared.” I walked up the rickety metal steps that led to the little balcony connected to his door. I gripped the railing to keep from gritting my teeth when the steps shook more than I would have liked.

  “I don’t invite just anyone to my place, you know,” Adam said as he walked inside and held open the door for me to follow.

  “Am I being rewarded for something, or are you feeling sorry for me?”

  He shut the door behind me with a light slam and brushed past me. From the set of his hunched shoulders and tilt of his head, I knew I’d messed up somehow.

  All ease had fled his features when he turned around to face me. “Thought we had a truce, remember?” His eyes searched mine, no doubt finding my blush amusing. Fact of the matter was I didn’t remember. He shook his head. “You really don’t remember anything?”

  I shrugged off my embarrassment and attempted to laugh. “It’s not like I don’t remember anything. Your sister kept pouring wine into my glass.”

  Adam’s posture straightened. He drew up to his full height and pursed his lips together, but he didn’t challenge me on my lies. Instead, he walked into the kitchen area and left me to explore. “My mom called a while ago, said you might be by.”

  I shook my head as I stepped farther into the open living space. “How does she always know?”

  Adam kept his back to me while pouring himself a full cup of black coffee. “She swears it’s her sixth sense.”

  I wanted to laugh, but it had sounded hollow to my ears last time, and I was tired of pretending for Adam King. I hadn’t seen the apartment since Peter had renovated it, something he’d always talked about doing but had never gotten around to when I was younger.

  The television and couches were positioned against the wall by the short entry hallway. A coffee table sat on a dark rug and looked as though it were homemade. Windows were covered in a wall of curtains that stretched to the small dining and kitchen area. Adam had pulled them open this morning to let the sun in. I looked to the left and glimpsed two other doors that must have led to his bedroom and bathroom.

  Everything was as it should be, but something was missing, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Wow… somehow this is not how I pictured your place.”

  He leaned back against the kitchen counter and held his cup in front of his chest. “How did you picture it?”

  “I don’t know, lots of pictures on the walls and clothes on the floor.”

  “I’m not in high school anymore, Dani.”

  Dani…

  Hearing my old nickname on his lips, his name for me alone, made my body do strange things. For one pitiful moment, I realized I hadn’t had sex since Prague, and I very much wanted it now. His eyebrow rose in silent question, and I realized I’d never replied.

  “Yeah, I guess not.”

  He shrugged and looked away. “My room is kind of a mess. As for pictures, I haven’t picked up a sketchbook since you left.”

  “Hmm…” I couldn’t string any words together when he crossed his arms over his chest. I had to walk around so I didn’t do or say anything stupid. As I searched his home for any personal touches, I came up short, besides the set of metal weights stacked in one corner.

  “So, you hungry or not?”

  You have no idea, I thought with a silent thanks to God. Thinking that way about Adam King was dangerous, and he would only hate me for it in the end.

  “I can eat.” I dared to face him.

  “I had cereal already. You got a preference?” Some of the open kindness was back in his expression as he hesitated and grinned. “Still like Lucky Charms?”

  “I’m more of a Frosted Mini-Wheats girl these days.”

  “Well, you’re out of luck. All I got is Cheerios and Cocoa Puffs.”

  “Whichever has the most sugar.”

  A curious thing happened then. Adam and I sat side by side on his living room couch and watched the morning news. We had graduated from screaming at each other in bitterness to a typical boring breakfast between friends. I paid less attention to the bullshit being spouted off on the television and more to the surrealism of the moment.

  Adam stared at the screen, and for once, there was no mask hiding his emotions. In fact, there were no emotions besides the occasional tilt of his mouth. I wanted to taste that mouth again. I had dreamed about it the other night and wanted to know if he kissed like I remembered. I followed the trail his facial scar left across his forehead and into his hairline. I wondered what scars his legs had from the night he’d almost lost his life because of me.

  “How long have you been working here?” I blurted out.

  Adam glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “About three years now. I knew some about mechanics from the army; the rest your brother taught me.”

  I glanced down to his bare forearm, marked with what looked like permanent grease stains. “You didn’t have any trouble getting into the army?” He was silent, but I didn’t dare look up.

  Finally, he said, “I couldn’t walk at first, after the accident, but after a year of therapy, I could run again. That was all the army cared about.”

  “Adam,” I started and took a deep breath to say what I should have said long ago.

  “You wanna go to a party tonight?” Adam interrupted and took a sip of his coffee.

  “A-a party?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You wanna go to a party at the Brewers’ tonight, with me?”

  I pinched my arm and hoped he didn’t notice how I kept staring at his lips.

  Snap out of it, Zvezda!

  “Seriously? Last time we went to the Brewers’, we almost killed each other. Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

  He shrugged. “You have a better idea?”

  I can think of a few things, I thought with a smirk. But then I thought about Peter and the kids and groceries. I was being stupid again, thinking with my lady parts instead of my brain. Going to a party with Adam King was not a good idea, not now.

  I stood and carried my bowl to the kitchen to rinse it in the sink. “Sorry, but I really should be getting home. I still haven’t bought groceries yet.”

  “Want some company?” he called from behind me.

  I frowned and turned. “I should get going.”

  He closed the distance between us until my legs were pressed tightly against the kitchen counter. “My shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

  What is he saying? I wanted to shake him by his damned perfect arms. I wanted to understand him. His arm rose, and for a moment, I held my breath as he brushed past me to turn the faucet off. I let go of the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I hadn’t felt like this in ten years.

  “Let me help you, Dani.”

  I didn’t trust myself to answer him properly, so I nodded and let him lead the way.

  13

  Anymore of This

  Paranoia settled into me when Adam not only helped me load the grocery cart but slipped past me to pay at the register. I was so pissed at him, I didn’t say a word while he drove my car back the way we’d come, not even when he drove past the garage. He pretended not to notice.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “This is me being your friend,” he calmly answered.

  I choked on the laugh that escaped me. “Friend? But we… you said…”

  “We made a truce the other night. I agreed to stop being an ass to you. This is me trying.”

  I stared unabashed. “I don’t know you at all anymore.”

  He parked my Escape and smiled at me. “So get to know me.”

  I felt it down in my gut—warmth, lust, hope all rolled into a twist
ed thing I didn’t recognize. Attraction wasn’t something on my agenda when I met guys. I picked them for various reasons, all so I could forget another day and night, forget the fact that I hated myself. Yet here was the boy I’d broken, asking me to forget the past, unless I was mistaken, asking me to be his friend. It didn’t make any sense; it thrilled and terrified me.

  Adam exited the car with his arms weighed down by multiple bags. It took me about a minute before I was ready to follow him inside the back door. I carried the rest of the bags with me and realized he had only left the lightest behind. I rolled my eyes at this chivalrous display.

  Mrs. King was ordering Adam about the kitchen as I entered, and Anya shadowed both. I smiled when my niece ran and threw her arms around my waist. She didn’t let go, even after I set the bags down on the floor.

  “Aunt Dani, you’re back! Papa and Hailey just got back too! We woke up, and you were gone! Sasha is mad and won’t come downstairs, but Papa wants to talk to us. Can you talk to Sasha? Daddy is sad, and it makes me so sad.” She paused for breath, and I smoothed down her wild curls.

  “I’ll talk to him, baby girl.” She clung to me still. “Did you eat breakfast?”

  “Oh, yes!” Her curls bounced as she danced in place. “Mrs. King made me berry pancakes!”

  “Adam, honey, be a dear and help me with these dishes.”

  Adam nodded and stepped up to the sink to put dishes in the dishwasher. Mrs. King rubbed his shoulder then turned to smile at us. “Anya, did you finish your painting already?”

  “Oh! Not yet.” She scampered over to the kitchen table, where sure enough, scattered manila paper sat beside a tray of watercolors. “Aunt Dani, I’m making a picture of Baba Yaga for you.”

  “That’s neat, kiddo.” I had to grin. What other American-born, Russian-speaking child would paint pictures of Baba Yaga?

  Mrs. King came to me and placed her hand on my arm. “I heard Anya tell you about Sasha. Poor boy hasn’t been down all morning. I think it might be a good idea if you talked with him.”