On Luna Time

by Amber Crawley

  “Okay.” I nodded, letting a slow smile build.

  j

  “How long has the lighthouse been here?” I asked, swinging my legs against the bar stool behind the front desk. My dress made a calm swooshing sound as it rubbed against it. I had Little Women in my hands, which I’d grabbed from my room in place of the journal before the ride over. It was a book that I’d read enough times I wasn’t scared of being asked how I was liking it if he asked. But I wasn’t reading, I was more interested in watching Wren.

  I liked being around him, even though he rarely looked up from whatever book he was reading. We didn’t have to say much to speak to one another, it was the kind of friendship I had always needed. Someone who heard me, even in silence.

  There was something about him, in the way he moved and the way he smiled, that I’d only seen in old movies. He moved slow and with purpose.

  “Since 1872,” Wren answered. “My great-grandfather and great-great grandfather built it.”

  My legs stopped swinging. “The whole thing? Even the library?”

  Wren was hunched over Sherlock Holmes running his hand over the nearly there stubble on his chin. He flipped the page unaware of the weight in my question. “The whole thing.”

  I hopped off the stool and walked into the opening that surrounded the spiral stairway. A line of framed photos hung on the curved wall, each one appearing to be hover from not being able to lay flat. The first one had a gold plaque on the bottom that read, Davenport Men Breaking Ground May 1st, 1872.

  In the photo, two very similar looking men stood next to on another with shovels, both with the same body build as Wren. They were medium height, thin but muscular, and had his squared jawline. The shot was far away but they were smiling, which wasn’t something I’d seen very often in old photos.

  “Is this them?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Uh-huh,” he answered without looking up.

  I swirled my half empty glass bottle of Cheerwine and took a swig, it was warm and the carbonation had almost all fizzed out. The next frame held a closer up version of the same two men with a crew of ten in overalls and farmer hats standing by the bottom half of the lighthouse in the distance. The plaque read, The Crew May 5th, 1873. The younger of the two Davenports, which I assumed was Wren’s great-grandfather, looked so much like him it made me wonder if Wren himself had time traveled.

  Next to the crew was a photo of the finished lighthouse. The plaque read, October 4th, 1874 Port Swan Lighthouse. The lighthouse looked the same as it did in 1949 with shorter trees.

  The second to last photo in the line was of a large group of people, October 4th, 1924 Port Swan Lighthouse Family and Friends 50th Anniversary. I almost skipped past it, when I noticed a girl who looked out of place. She was petite with long dark hair and was holding a sideways glance at the boy who was no doubt a Davenport on her right. On her left, a taller guy with jet black and hair, who looked nothing like the Davenports, stood with his arm around her. I moved closer, squinting to see if my eyes were playing tricks on me. It was my mother with a giant baby bump, there was no denying it.

  I adjusted my eyes as I stared at her huge stomach with what had to be me inside of it. October 4th, 1924, one day before my October 5th birthday. The soda bottle slipped out of my hand, splattering burgundy liquid all over the white tile floor and onto my dress. The bottle smashed into tiny shards of broken glass that surrounded me. I ran out of the lighthouse without telling Wren bye or apologizing for the mess.

  Prepared or not, it was time to read Gina’s story. I had to know if I was a Davenport, and I had to know if I was on my second jump of Luna Time.

  Wren called after me, repeating my name as he hung out of the lighthouse doorway. “Nessa!” floated through the thick ocean air as I made my way past the giant white Davenport home.

  Nausea rose from my stomach to my throat I was unable to stop myself from being sick in the giant bush outside their house. As I heard another Nessa fly through the air, I picked myself up and kept going until I reached my hotel room.

  I dove onto my bed, yanking my backpack out from underneath. I dumped the contents out, reaching for the three journals to find the one with the pink envelope sticking out.

  I flung the soft wide ruled pages to the left, making the envelope fly out of the book. I fumbled over the pages, wildly turning them until I spotted Gina’s name.

  Ten

  n

  January 22nd, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  My name is Gina Marshall. I traveled from the year 2001. I wished for the 80s before I jumped. Clearly, the stars aren’t aligned with the moon.

  Gina

  January 23rd, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  My Mom sent me here in the ugliest old lady dress you’ve ever seen so I would fit in when I landed. She gave me $300 and said to make every dollar count. I’m off to buy a new wardrobe, even though the clothes here are just as awful as the pink one I’m wearing.

  Gina

  January 24th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  It’s so freaking weird that Port Swan looks almost the same here as it does in 2001. The only thing that we have that they don’t is a paved road.

  I saw my Great Grandmother Louise walking in town today with her mother, Vera Ann. She couldn’t have been older than ten, but her dark beauty is already undeniable. I followed them home careful not to let them see me.

  They live in a small house by the sound on Luna Road, the same house I grew up in. Other than the missing blue shutters my mom painted when I was eight, it looks the same. I never realized how old our house was.

  Gina

  Search for the house on Luna Road. A heavy guilt came over me for not finding it right away. The history that lived inside of those walls could fill a book and be the answer to every question I had. Thoughts of Gina waiting there for me to come home consumed me. I wanted to drop the journal and run down Main Street until I spotted the house that was waiting for me, but I needed to know more.

  January 25th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  I met a guy. He is as tall, dark, and handsome as they come. His eyes are blue, which was the first thing I noticed about him. He’s older than me by four years, which only makes me like him more. If I could compare him to anyone, I would say he was a combination of Danny from Grease and James Dean. But, I’m usually more of a Dawson Leery type of girl. (He’s from Dawson’s Creek. If you haven’t seen it, wish for the 90s. Maybe the stars will hear you.)

  His name is John Johnson, which has a movie star ring to it. He said that I remind him of someone he used to know. I want him to like me more than whoever that someone was.

  Gina

  I thought back to the photo in the lighthouse, of Gina standing next to a tall guy with dark hair who had his arm around her. John. Tall, dark, and handsome. Blue eyes. My heart nearly galloped out of my body as I flipped the page and continued to read.

  January 26th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  I just got back from my date with John. Oh my GOD. He smells amazing, and not in a cologne type of way, in a real man way.

  Gina

  January 28th, 1924

  Apparently, I remind John of Liza. When I got back to the lighthouse I searched for Aunt Liza’s entries, and sure enough, she went out with my John. He is definitely still pining over her four years later.

  A gasp left my lips as I flipped back to Liza’s journal entry.

  A boy named John danced with me and taught me all of his moves. I even let him kiss me... I swear I’m not easy. He was just too handsome to say no.

  My stomach churned.

  Aunt Liza is beautiful. Like seriously beautiful. She has dark auburn hair (nowhere near orange), D cups and a Marilyn Monroe type figure. No wonder John’s still fixated on her. I have plain brown hair and my boobs are seriously lacking, I couldn’t come close to being like her if I tried.

  Gina

&nb
sp; February 5th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  John saw my tattoo last night, when I let him go all the way. I can’t believe I did it. It hurt more than I hoped it would, my body and my heart.

  He didn’t like my tattoo. Apparently, girls don’t have them in the 20s, and he couldn’t wrap his head around how I wasn’t part of a circus act. On my side, in between my back and my left boob, I have a small bouquet of wildflowers from a drawing I drew. I got it last summer with my best friend, May. I wish she was here to talk to. She’s a prude, so she wouldn’t approve of my scandalous actions, but she’d know exactly what to say to make me feel better about myself.

  John and I had dinner with his best friend, Herbert, afterward. I tried not to be too disappointed that I was the third wheel on the night I lost my virginity. John wrapped his arm around me like he owned me when Herbert complimented my dress. I’m not sure if I liked that he did that or not, but either way, that’s what he did.

  Herbert seems nice, but if your name rhymes with sherbet you can’t be taken seriously.

  Gina

  A laugh flew out of my mouth, startling me from the stark shock I had felt moments before. “Sherbet Herbert.”

  February 29th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  That extra day attached to February always makes me feel off.

  I missed the full moon. The only thing Luna says about skipping it is, Time is not a game. What does that even mean? All I know is that I think I’m being cursed by being stuck inside of a leap year. I’ve broken so many of laws, but I’d rather be in traveler prison than go back home and face Dorothy for what I’ve done.

  I’m pregnant. Seeing the letters on paper forming the word makes it seem more real. Yes, it’s John’s baby, and no, there are no dollar tree pregnancy tests around here - I just know. I think it’s a sign from the curse of February 29th. Dorothy’s superstition has worn off of me, something I never thought would happen. I guess growing older does turn you into your parents.

  Johns baby. John Johnson, the man in the photo with his arm around my mother. I was conceived in the year 1924, by a man who could have very likely be within walking distance of the motel I was sitting in. Chills covered me. I ran my hands over my arms trying to rid the bumps from my skin.

  I’ve never missed my period, until now. I’m over fifty years in the past, impregnated by a man who is as old as my grandfather. Oh my God. How could I have done this? My mom (aka Dorothy) is going to kill me. Like, I’m for sure dead.

  I miss every part of home, but I’m staying here until I have the baby. When it’s old enough that Dorothy will have no choice but to accept it, I’ll go back. We’ll go back.

  I need to tell John, but I’m scared. He doesn’t love me, and I don’t love him.

  Gina

  I ruined my mothers life.

  August 15th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  Happy summer. I’ve been staying at John’s. He isn’t home a lot because of dental school, but I don’t mind because I like having the place to myself. This is the first time I’ve made it back to the lighthouse since February.

  It’s so hot, and my huge stomach only makes me hotter. Here in 1924, air conditioning is not what it is in the 2000s. You have no idea how thankful I am that freezers already exist; eating ice is my whole life at the moment. I can’t get enough of the crunchy cold.

  Last night’s full moon was so beautiful, I almost jumped. I sat on the pier for hours at the 600 foot mark, my favorite spot on the pier. I carved a butterfly into the wood so that the next time I come I don’t have to count my steps. I watched as Luna’s glow moved across the sea, and I wished I was back home.

  John has openly cheated on me more times than I can count while I’m living under his roof. Yesterday, he got drunk and said he wasn’t my Daddy (um gross and duh) and insisted the baby isn’t his. He apologized this morning.

  He doesn’t even want our baby. I think he’s only stayed with me as long as he has because I remind him of Liza. But I can’t make myself leave. The mistake I made is unforgivable. A baby born in 1924 can’t possibly ever be with both parents when one of them will be born in 1983. It’s just not possible.

  They are planning a huge 50th anniversary party here in October for the lighthouse. The Davenport family built it, so Herbert sort of owns it. I haven’t asked him about the secret room in the library, but whoever put it there has to know about us.

  His family is practically Port Swan Royalty. Their house next to the lighthouse is my favorite place in all of Port Swan. In a dream life, I’d fall back home, buy it, and make it into the most amazing bed and breakfast North Carolina has ever seen.

  The house next to the lighthouse is owned by the Davenport family. Wren Davenport. I thought back to Rosemary nearly breaking in that first morning. Vomit attempted to rise again as I contemplated if Wren had known who I was all along.

  I’m planning to help Herbert with the anniversary party. As it turns out he’s pretty awesome, despite his dessert-like name. We’re around him a lot, which I’m grateful for. Herb has been a better friend through all of this than John could have ever been.

  On top of everything, no one will hire a pregnant girl around here and I only have $20 left. That’s more than enough for food, but what about the baby?

  I wish I’d found Sherbet Herbert first.

  Gina

  September 13th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  John said he’s not father material and told me it was time for me to go.

  I want my Mom to yell at me. I want to listen to her sing while she makes me tea, like she always does when I don’t feel well. I want to hear my Dad tell me corny jokes. I even miss Shane, my stupid brother. I want to be in 2001. I want to know what’s happening on Dawson’s Creek.

  I’ve done my time in traveler prison, and now I just want to go home. I’m scared of Luna’s wrath of staying past one cycle and toying with time. Mostly, I’m scared of the look on my mom’s face when she sees me.

  My stomach is so big I can barely see my toes. I have only seen a doctor once, when Herb took me last week. I don’t know for sure, but I have a feeling it’s a boy. My stomach is so big and heavy, only a male would make me carry that kind of weight. If it is a boy I’m naming it Dawson; I don’t have a girl name picked out yet. The doctors don’t take pregnancy very seriously, and they all look at me like I’m a total slut. A lot of people die in childbirth around here too. They don’t even give you medicine.

  Gina

  October 1st, 1924

  I’ve been staying at Herb’s - his parents are so nice. I’ve been helping out at their vineyard and have been saving as much of the money as I can. I love it there. I love everything about the Davenport family. I’m pretty sure Herbert is in love with me, I catch him staring at me with stars in his eyes often. He’s caught me staring back a few times too.

  John came over today and asked to come to the party. Herbert didn’t want to say yes, he’s grown very protective over me. John begged, swearing he’s a changed man. Despite Herbert’s refusal I told John I’d give him one more chance. Don’t judge me, it’s for the baby.

  Gina

  P.S. I hope he has John’s hair.

  October 6th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  John is not a changed man. Herb tried to protect me from him when John got drunk and tried to drag me behind the lighthouse. Herbert is a lot smaller than John, but he punched him so hard he fell to the ground. Herbert’s father came to the rescue and grabbed John just as he started to lunge at Herbert.

  I held on tight to my stomach the entire time. I’ve never been more scared or protective of anyone. I may not love my baby’s father, but I love him or her more than I can put into words.

  Gina

  My father was a drunk and my mother saved me from him, only to hand me over to a series of drunken foster parents. Even still, I couldn’t find it in me to be angry with her. I just wanted t
o know why.

  October 8th, 1924

  Dear Luna,

  It’s hard to make my way up the hill to the lighthouse these days. I tell Herbert I’m going to find a new book, but really I come into the secret room and lay on the lighthouse bed. It’s the closest feeling to home I have.

  I can’t ever catch my breath, and my back hurts so bad all I want to do is cry. One second the baby is digging into my ribs, the next it’s plunging into my bladder. I swear sometimes it seems as if there's an army of babies in there instead of one. The only positive of pregnancy is that I finally have boobs. But, even though they look good, they feel heavy which only makes me want to cry harder.

  I’m ready to give birth, but I’m so scared.

  Gina

  October 12th, 1924

  Herbert kissed me. Words can’t describe how much it hurts that I have to leave him. I know he loves me, and I know leaving him will hurt him in a way that may never heal. But I love him enough not to let him raise a baby that isn’t his, even if he offered. And he did.

  I told him I needed air, so I came here to write this. I’ve let all of this go too far. I want to teach my baby to chase her dreams and never run from what she fears, so it’s time I face mine.

  The full moon is tomorrow and I’ll be jumping off that pier. I’ll see you in 2001, sweet baby of mine. I love you already, and I hope you’re a girl. Nobody needs another John in this world.

  Gina

  My face was covered in salty tears that were leaking into the opening between my lips. I buried my face in the pillow holding onto the journal in a desperate, lonely embrace.