by Rio Youers
“This is an all-or-nothing arrangement,” Mother Moon continued. “I would never stop you from leaving. Go sell your house. Climb a mountain. Do whatever it is you’ve got to do. But there’s no coming back. Not for anybody.”
Except for you, Martin thought. And Nolan.
“We have rules for a reason.” Her comfortable demeanor never faltered. “If I let you come back, then I’d have to do the same for Jake. Then Ainsley. Then Brooke. Before you know it, everything is coming apart at the seams. Trust me, Martin, I’ve been here before.”
“You could say I left on a medical emergency,” Martin suggested.
“That would be a lie. A deception.” Mother Moon sat back in her seat, relaxed, in control. “We’ve no place for deception on Halcyon.”
Martin’s gaze flicked to the lockbox.
“I know you’re worried about your house. But here’s the thing: all those things you mentioned will sort themselves out. The bank will foreclose on your mortgage and sell your house for you, then your brother won’t have to look after it anymore. Your employers will eventually realize you’re not coming back and surrender your job to someone else. Same with the girls’ schools. Everything you’ve mentioned will fix itself in time.” Mother Moon leaned forward. If they were closer, she might have placed her hand on his knee, and he thought it would feel quite nice there. “The cold truth, Martin, is that everybody on the mainland is more concerned about their own lives than they are about yours.”
“I know that,” Martin said. “But I have a lot of money tied up in that house. My wife and I bought it after we were married, and we worked our asses off to pay the mortgage down. I don’t want to lose it.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Mother Moon said. If she was at all concerned about the possibility of Shirley leaving, she didn’t show it. “You’ve had your probationary period. This is where you ask yourself what’s more important.”
Martin poured himself another glass of water from the pitcher on the table. He wasn’t as cool as Mother Moon, but he didn’t spill a drop. Sitting back, he remembered something Nolan had said to him at Banjo McCoy’s on the night they’d met. He couldn’t recall it word for word, but it concerned Halcyon’s income being supplemented by donations. Martin was no economist, but he knew that this way of life—the fuel, the mainland supplies, the building materials—couldn’t be supported solely by selling vegetables, most of which they ate anyway. And with winter coming, the need for fuel and supplies—the need for money—would be greater.
It was time to play his first card.
“This is going to sound like a bribe,” he said. He shrugged as if there was no way around that, then sipped his water and found Mother Moon’s gaze again. “I want to make a monetary donation to the community, but I can’t do that until I sell the house. Also, to be perfectly blunt, I’m not prepared to do that if I’m not living here.”
Mother Moon narrowed her eyes and shifted in her seat—a subtle change in body language, but telling. He had her attention.
“A friend of mine is a lawyer,” Martin continued. “I can set everything up with him, and get it done quickly.”
“Are we negotiating, Martin?”
“I hope so.”
“Even though my rules are nonnegotiable?”
“I believe we can benefit each other here.”
She sipped her water, still incredibly cool, still in control. He thought she was going to say something, but she just held him with her eyes. If she were to roll her head from side to side, he’d probably follow, like a cat transfixed by a light.
“I’m hoping to find a way for us to stay,” he said, breaking her gaze for long enough to set his glass down. “One that doesn’t involve me losing tens of thousands of dollars on the house. We want to stay. We like it here.” These things were true, as was the next thing: “Shirley is very fond of you.”
There it was. His second card. The Shirley card.
“As I am of her.” Mother Moon got to her feet and walked over to the window. The gray light emphasized the lines across her face, the auburn in her hair. She looked out at her island for a long time, lost in thought. When she spoke, her words had a distant, melancholic quality. “We sometimes get snow in November. That lake effect can come without warning. It unnerves people. Nobody wants to be stranded here like a character in a horror movie.”
She smiled and looked at him. He got up, without being aware he was going to, and joined her at the window.
“We usually lose numbers around this time of year. Three or four people.” She touched his arm gently. Her hair smelled of leaves and bark. “It’s my favorite time, though. Those who stay come together. We eat steaming soups and drink spiced apple cider. We build great fires and huddle.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Martin said.
“Your timing is impeccable. We don’t sell anything over the winter because we don’t produce anything. To frustrate matters further, we burn through a lot more fuel. It’s a financially challenging time. If Halcyon falls at all, it’ll fall in the winter.”
“So you depend on donations.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then let me help.”
She looked at him, pouring light and sweetness from her face. He liked her, he really did—hoped like hell the ring meant nothing at all. But why are you hiding it? he thought. Why the secrecy, Mother Moon?
“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “I think I can swing it because there are three of you.”
“Go on.”
“Take a few days. Go back to the mainland and tie up your loose ends. Then come back here and huddle with us.”
Martin smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
“We have a lawyer on the mainland who handles our donations. When you have the money, write a check, give it to Nolan, and he’ll pass it on.”
“I can do that.”
“There’s one condition.”
The smile on Martin’s face twitched. He raised one eyebrow.
“The girls stay here.”
Martin stiffened, except for his jaw, which dropped an inch. He wanted to reply but his mind had flown into a dozen different directions.
“I don’t think Shirley would go with you anyway,” Mother Moon continued in a low voice, as if she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “And Edith will be fine. More than fine. It’s only a few days, right? I’m sure Alyssa will happily take care of her.” Her face suddenly lit from within. She touched Martin’s arm again. “Oh, isn’t she a sweet lady? I’m so happy you two have found a closeness in each other.”
“We’re just friends,” Martin said distantly, then reined in his thoughts and brought the matter back to Edith and Shirley. “I’m not sure about this … they’re my girls, it’s—”
“Is it a trust thing?”
“No, it’s—”
“Because if you don’t trust us, why are we even having this conversation?”
She grinned to show that she was being playful, and Martin grinned to show that he understood that, but he didn’t like the way it felt on his face—forced and desperate.
“No, it’s not about trust. It’s just … I haven’t been away from them since their mother died.” This was not true; they’d stayed with Jimmy and Felicity—several times, in fact—while he screamed at the sky and drank himself unconscious. “Edith is … sensitive. She suffers with night terrors. I’m just not—”
“She’ll be fine. We can deal with this.”
He nodded. Yes, they probably could. Edith hadn’t had an incident since the school shooting, and Alyssa would happily take on a more parental role until he returned.
“I need to think about this,” he said.
“We’re negotiating, Martin. I’m meeting you in the middle.”
“Right…”
“And this is the only way I can justify it to the others: that there are three of you, but only one third gets to leave and come back.” She looked out the window again, nodding thoughtfully. “I can bend th
e rules here without setting a damaging precedent.”
“I understand,” Martin said. He scratched the back of his head. “Let me talk to the girls. See how they feel about this.”
“That’s a good idea.” The coolness never left her voice. “Let me know what you want to do.”
“Thank you for listening.”
“I did more than listen; I acquiesced.” She looked at him, still smiling. “You must have caught me in a good mood.”
“When are you not in a good mood?”
“Oh, it happens.” Her enticing eyes flared. “But most of the time I’m a ray of sunshine.”
23
Nolan listened to Valerie while she explained the arrangement and her reasons for doing it. Yes, money was a powerful motivator—Martin was right to dangle that carrot, and his timing really was impeccable—but more importantly, him being off-community gave Valerie a window to get some one-on-one with the other daughter.
“She has something,” Valerie said, but didn’t elaborate.
Nolan nodded, faithful as ever, trusting that, when she finally walked across the Skyway to Glam Moon, he’d be right beside her.
“When do I take him back?” he asked.
“Soon. Your next supply run, maybe.”
“You want me to…?” He ran the edge of his thumb across his throat.
“No. I need the girls. Both of them. If anything happens to their father, we might lose them. Not physically, but emotionally.”
“Copy that.”
“We’ll take care of him later, but for now it all needs to stay calm.”
“Should I follow him?”
“What if he sees you?”
“He won’t.”
“He might,” Valerie said. She considered for a moment, then shook her head. “No. We have his daughters. He’s not going to try anything foolish. Besides, he knows nothing.”
“Okay. If you trust him, I trust him.”
She walked to the open space in front of the hearth—the space where she had shared moments, intimate and otherwise, with so many islanders over the years. Their faces floated into her mind, all of them broken, but given hope at the end, from Robert Dander and Jeffrey Myles (only one hand, but he used it like a champ), all the way up to Garrett Riley, Glenn Burdock (he liked the back of his balls licked, that one), and now Shirley Lovegrove. Yes, sweet, young Shirley, who curled at the edges when Valerie touched her in just the right way, and who had that look in her eyes—that filmy, anything look, simultaneously deep and shallow, like a reflection in an inch of water.
Devotion.
“I feel such peace,” Valerie stretched out her arms, threw back her head, and twirled once. “Can you feel it, puppy?”
“I can’t.” Nolan cleared his throat. “I’m happy for you, though.”
“It may not be a good thing.” Valerie shook her head, then stared at the ashes in the fireplace. “I’ve loved two people in my life: that vile cunt Pacifico, and my grandma on my mother’s side, Grandma Lucy, such a kind and caring woman. One day she got a nosebleed going up three floors in an elevator and it wouldn’t stop gushing. Turns out she hadn’t been telling anyone about the partial loss of vision or the crippling headaches—didn’t want to worry them, she said—and when they ran her lovely old noggin through the scanner, they found a tumor the size of a man’s fist. They operated but the damage was done. She experienced a lot of pain, memory loss, disorientation. She pissed and shat herself. What a fucking mess. And then, for a couple of weeks before she died, she went all Zen. She smiled all the time. She had all her faculties, she was sharp and funny. ‘I’m perfectly at peace,’ she would say.”
Nolan nodded. “You’re saying this is the calm before the storm?”
“Who knows?” Valerie shrugged. “But I can tell you that Grandma Lucy’s final days were spent in agony. Oh, she screamed and screamed. My mom told me she was bleeding out of her eyes. Can you imagine?”
“Christ.”
“But for a while it was just like this.” Valerie looked away from the ashes, spread her arms, and twirled again. “All peace. All buttercups.”
* * *
Martin had barely started talking when Shirley cut across him, “I’m not going back.” She folded her arms and looked at him determinedly. “We just got here.”
“It’s been six weeks,” Martin held his hands up in a defensive manner, as if Shirley were throwing stones instead of words. “I want to make sure you’re happy here.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not missing anything from home? Your cell phone? Your friends—”
“I’ve got a friend here.” Shirley sat back in her seat. The sunlight streaming through their cabin window threw one side of her face into shadow. “I’m not ready to go home.”
Martin nodded and turned to Edith. “How about you, sweetie? You want to stay?”
Edith shrugged. “I wish there were more kids here. I get bored sometimes, but I got bored at home, so…”
“The bad things don’t bother Edith here,” Shirley added. “They stay away. Everything’s calmer.”
“We can stay a little longer, I guess,” Edith said.
“Okay. Good. I want to stay, too.” Martin looked at Shirley when he said this. “But listen, I have to go back to the mainland to tie up some loose ends. Just for a few days, then I’ll be back. Are you guys okay with that?”
“On your own?” Edith asked.
“Yeah.” Martin took Edith’s hand and squeezed gently. “Alyssa is going to look after you. I think she’s got some cool things planned. Your sister’s going to help her. Right, Shirl?”
“Right.”
“It’ll be fine, I promise.” Martin gave Edith his most reassuring smile. “But if you don’t want me to go…”
“No. You go. I’ll be okay.”
“We got this,” Shirley said.
Three days later, Martin and Nolan walked down to the dock, where the center console waited to take them to the mainland. Alyssa and Edith were a few paces behind. They came to say goodbye.
“Hey, it’s just a few days,” Martin said while Nolan prepared the boat.
“I know,” Edith said, but she threw herself into his arms and gave him the tightest squeeze.
“Listen,” he said. “I asked Shirley to keep an eye on you, but really I want you to keep an eye on her. You dig?”
“I dig,” she said. There were small tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Dad.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you, too.”
He looked at Alyssa. She found some space in his arms.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said. “Come back to us, okay?”
“You know it.”
She surprised him with a kiss. Soft and warm and very close to his lips. Edith pretended not to notice but she was grinning.
The center console started with a wet bark and a snarl. “Let’s go, loverboy,” Nolan shouted. Martin rolled his eyes and smiled. He stepped aboard, strapped himself into his lifejacket, and grabbed a seat. The boat pulled away from the dock in a clamor of engine sound. Martin waved at Alyssa and Edith, then looked at the gray expanse of water ahead.
I hope you find what you’re looking for, he thought, and touched where Alyssa had kissed him. She wasn’t talking about information, but peace of mind, and that was exactly what he was looking for. He wanted nothing more than to learn that the ring hidden in Mother Moon’s lockbox was an old fraternity ring, and that Derevaun Seraun was Latin for Keep Your Pants On. If that was the case, he would hand Nolan a check for ten thousand dollars and return to the island—likely stay there with a peaceful, easy feeling until Shirley went to college. Or perhaps beyond.
If not …
Well, he didn’t want to think about that.
He blew into his hands. It was cold on the open water, with icy spray stinging his face. Some ten miles south, the mainland lined the horizon like the tail of a huge, sle
eping alligator.
It was November 18. Four days until Thanksgiving.
Five until Black Friday.
PART III
DEREVAUN SERAUN
24
Shirley said goodbye to her dad at their cabin, then went to Mother Moon’s. She took care of her duties quickly. Mother Moon watched her while eating slices of apple dipped in chocolate spread—a little treat Nolan had brought from the mainland. She occasionally poked her finger in and invited Shirley to lick it off.
“Shhh,” Mother Moon whispered. “Our little secret.”
Afterward, Shirley read two chapters of Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. Mother Moon listened in a state of bliss, lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, twisting her fingers—still sticky with chocolate spread—through her hair. She wore a bathrobe, the belt strapped loosely so that the robe was open in front. Shirley could see her underwear and the tops of her thighs. They were darkly veined and scarred. “Some would say they’re ugly legs but to me they’re beautiful,” she once told Shirley. “Every scar denotes fortitude. If I could stitch them into wings, I would.”
By early afternoon the sun had run behind heavy cloud and the inside of Mother Moon’s cabin dimmed. A fine rain misted the windows.
“Light a fire,” Mother Moon said.
Shirley did.
It blazed in the hearth and threw light that brought the room to life. Mother Moon stood. She lowered the bathrobe to her waist, turning her back to Shirley. More scars laddered her spine, crisscrossed her shoulders.
“Count them.”
Shirley did.
“Thirty-six.”
“Yes. Just on my back. I have eighty-two scars on my body, including the ones on my head. Here…” She lowered her head, separating her hair to show Shirley the several pinkish scars, one of which was very large. “There are dents, too. Here…” And she took Shirley’s hand and ran her fingers over the dips and divots in her skull.
“I’ve felt them before,” Shirley said.
“Every knock and blemish is a part of who I am. Experience is made up of two parts: education and tribulation.” Mother Moon pulled the robe over her shoulders and tied the belt, tighter this time. She looked at Shirley. “Education develops a woman. Always. Tribulation is different. It can unravel her, or give her armor.”