Ghost Moon

by Karen Robards

  His mouth thinned in an apologetic grimace. ‘‘I didn’t really think that. It was just an—instinctive reaction.’’

  ‘‘I should have been told. I should have known this a long time ago.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’ His hands tightened on hers. Their knees touched. His eyes were intent as they met her gaze. ‘‘It’s over and done with. In the past. Nothing you, or I, or anyone else can do can change anything about it. And it has nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with your life, or the person you are. Nothing at all, you hear?’’

  He sounded so fierce that she managed a wavery smile for him. ‘‘I hear.’’

  ‘‘Good.’’ He took a deep breath. ‘‘You okay?’’

  She nodded.

  ‘‘You sure?’’

  ‘‘I’m sure.’’ In truth, she was anything but okay, but if she told the truth about how she was feeling she would scare him to death.

  ‘‘Okay. I’m going to put the rest of my clothes on now, and then I’m going to take you home.’’ He let go of her hands and stood up. ‘‘Okay?’’

  It was an effort to collect her thoughts. Lifting her gaze to meet his was one of the hardest things she had ever done. ‘‘Sara. I can’t go home without Sara.’’

  ‘‘We’ll get Sara. Or you can let her stay and have fun, and Mother or Mallory can bring her home.’’

  Unable to say more, Olivia nodded.

  Seth looked down at her for an instant longer, his expression troubled. Then he grabbed his clothes from the bench and headed into the anteroom that held the showers and toilets.

  Left alone, Olivia slowly bent almost double, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her head on her knees. Nausea assailed her, and her head throbbed and spun. Visions of her mother—or was it herself?— walking into the night-dark lake evolved from the first blurred images of what almost seemed like an out-of-focus movie into an experience that was suddenly, startlingly real.

  She was wearing a nightgown, an ankle-length, flimsy white nylon nightgown with wide lace straps, and no shoes. The night was hot and muggy, and there were mosquitoes. Moonlight reflected off the shiny surface of the lake, lighting a path for her to follow. As she stepped into the water and it rose around her, it felt warm and brackish, just as it had the other day when she had stepped in it. The smell was the same, too, the slightly fetid smell of stagnant water and rotting vegetation: the smell of the lake. Her bare feet sank deep into the mud; it squished between her toes, swallowed her ankles. Water rose higher and higher, swirling about her as she waded out, wetting her nightgown to the knees, the waist. . . .

  Suddenly she was no longer a participant, but an observer. From the vantage point of the lakeshore, she watched her mother flounder and drown, helpless to do anything to alter what was happening. Tears filled her eyes, squeezing past closed lids to course down her cheeks. Her grief was suddenly as overwhelming as if she were, truly, watching her mother drown.

  ‘‘Livvy?’’ Seth was back in the room with her. She heard him say her name, knew he was there, but was powerless to respond, to stop the tears, to turn off the grief. She cried silently, her head bowed so that her forehead rested on her knees, hoping that he would just leave her be.

  ‘‘Livvy.’’ He squatted down in front of her, his hands smoothing her hair back from her face, his fingers finding the tears on her cheeks and tracing their path. ‘‘Are you crying? Look at me.’’

  She wouldn’t. She knew it would upset him, and she didn’t want to do that. If she could have turned off the tears, she would have. But she was overflowing with sorrow, and there was simply nothing she could do to stop it.

  ‘‘Damn it, Livvy.’’ He sounded as if he felt as helpless as she did. His arms came around her, awkward because of her position. He stroked her back through her thin black sweater, and patted it clumsily. ‘‘Don’t cry. Please. Whatever happened in the past, it’s not worth a moment of your tears.’’

  She tried to stop. She really did. She scrunched her eyes up tight and took a deep gulp of air—but the gulp turned into a sob and the tears continued to flow.

  ‘‘Shit.’’ He stood up, his hands circling her wrists, pulling her up with him. She came to her feet at his urging, limp but unresisting, her eyes still closed as she did battle with the insurgent tears. Her hair swung back from her face as her head tilted back, all except for a few strands that clung to her wet cheeks. He smoothed the stray hairs away with gentle fingers and pulled her against him. His arms closed around her, enfolding her icy body with his warmth.

  Olivia buried her face against his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist, and cried as if her heart would break.

  ‘‘Shh. Shh, Livvy. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’’ Holding her tight, he rocked her back and forth. ‘‘It’s stupid to cry about something that happened twenty years ago. Please don’t cry.’’

  His murmured attempts at consolation reached her, soothing the raw edges of her grief. As her sobs lessened in intensity, she could feel the strength in his arms and the hardness of his chest beneath her cheek. He smelled good, with some indescribable combination of fabric softener (his shirt), chlorine (the dunking booth), and man. He was taller than her, broader than her, and stronger than her, and she liked that. But what she liked best was that he was, simply, Seth.

  Her tears lessened and finally stopped, and for a little while after that she was content to just lie against him, tired out by the force of the emotion that had racked her and comforted by being held in his arms.

  There was nowhere else on earth where she felt safer, Olivia realized. Nowhere else on earth that felt more like home.

  He, in turn, seemed to be in no big hurry to let her go.

  She should unlock her arms from around his waist, ease out of his arms, announce that she was all better now, and apologize for the wet splotch she had made on the front of his shirt.

  That was absolutely what she should do. She knew it as well as she knew her name.

  Instead she snuggled closer still, savoring the feel of him, the smell of him, the feeling of both safety and danger that he evoked in her now that the maelstrom of grief that she had been caught up in had subsided.

  He was Seth, her Seth, but she wanted more than comfort from him now.

  Somehow he must have sensed the alteration in her, because his body changed even as she held him. The muscles of his back tensed beneath her clinging hands. With her ear pressed to his chest, she could hear the acceleration of his heart.

  Olivia felt her own heartbeat speed up until it was pounding in her ears. For her own sake, for the sake of their relationship, she needed to move out of his arms now. . . .

  She moved all right, turning her head and lifting it away from his chest so that she could look at him. But her arms had a mind of their own, and they weren’t letting him go. Her body had a mind of its own, too, and it wasn’t separating from his by so much as a millimeter.

  His head was bent protectively close to hers. She looked up into his eyes, and found that they were very near. They were dark and turbulent, and as she met them he partially lowered his lids as though to hide what was in them from her. His facial muscles were tense. His mouth was clamped into a hard, straight line. He looked like a man doing battle with his own desire.

  ‘‘Seth,’’ she whispered, unable to help herself as her chin tilted up and her mouth moved infinitesimally closer to his.

  ‘‘Better?’’ he asked, and his voice was hoarse. His gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth and back.

  Olivia nodded. Her breathing had quickened, and so, she saw, had his. From her shoulders down her body was so close to his that they were practically fused together. Some of it was her fault—she pressed against him like they were two halves of the same piece of Velcro.

  But his arms were wrapped around her, too, and he wasn’t letting her go.

  ‘‘Seth,’’ she said again, her voice a soft breath of sound. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw the hot flicker in their depths, th
e sudden dilating of his pupils. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer yet, and she could feel the slight tremor that racked them.

  ‘‘Jesus Christ, Olivia.’’ His voice was thick, hoarse, almost unrecognizable. This time he moved, pulling her up on tiptoe as his mouth came down on hers.

  His mouth slanted across hers with fierce hunger. His tongue slid between her lips, touching hers, possessing her mouth. Olivia kissed him back just as fiercely, opening her mouth for his taking, possessing his in turn. She couldn’t get enough of him, just as he, it seemed, couldn’t get enough of her.

  Without ever lifting his mouth from hers he turned her around and edged her a step backward. Olivia found herself with her back against the row of lockers. The metal was slick against her sweater and skirt. She could feel the coolness of it against the backs of her calves. A locker handle dug into her side. She barely noticed, and didn’t care.

  He pressed full against her, his weight pressing her into the lockers. She could feel the whole long, muscular length of him. Her body was covered by his, flattened by his, aroused by his. One hand slid beneath her hair to cup the back of her skull, tilting her face up to his. His other hand found her breast, caressing it through her thin black sweater and the silky nylon of her bra.

  Olivia felt an explosion of desire so hot and primitive that her insides seemed to melt. She made a little mewling sound deep in her throat, and her hands delved beneath the hem of his polo shirt to flatten against the bare skin of his back.

  His back was warm, and muscular, the skin silky smooth and faintly damp with sweat. She slid her hands upward, dislodging his shirt in the process, stroking the long muscles with her palms, and he groaned into her mouth.

  His hand came under her sweater, moving up over her rib cage and slipping beneath her bra. Big and hard and hot, it closed over her breast, and Olivia went weak at the knees. If his weight against her hadn’t been holding her up, she would have sunk bonelessly to the floor.

  His thumb swept across her nipple. Quite unable to help herself, Olivia began to tremble. She clutched him tightly, her nails digging into his back. She wanted him.

  ‘‘Seth?’’ The locker room door swooshed open, footsteps sounded on the tile floor, and Phillip’s voice called out urgently, all at the same time.

  Seth moved quickly, his head lifting, his body shifting so that his back blocked Phillip’s view of her. Her hands flattened on his back, and then were still. Trying to hide the fact that they were underneath Seth’s shirt was useless. From where he was standing just inside the door, Phillip would have an unimpeded view of Seth’s back, at the very least.

  From Phillip’s sudden silence, and the lack of footsteps or other sounds, Olivia surmised that he was standing there frozen in shock, staring at them. She couldn’t be sure, because Seth’s body blocked her from seeing Phillip, too.

  ‘‘What is it?’’ Seth turned his head to speak over his shoulder, his voice remarkably cool. His hand slid out from beneath her sweater. Her breast tingled at the withdrawal, and she felt suddenly bereft. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. But her body had a mind of its own, and continued to tingle and burn.

  ‘‘God, I’m sorry. I had no idea. . . .’’ Phillip’s voice trailed off, and he took a deep, obviously embarrassed breath. ‘‘Your mother’s collapsed. She’s been taken to the hospital.’’

  ‘‘What? What happened?’’ Seth whipped around to look at Phillip, and Olivia’s hands fell away from his back. Shocked at the news, still not quite sure of her knees, she crossed her arms over her throbbing breasts and leaned against the lockers, staring at Phillip over Seth’s shoulder. She was frightened for Callie—and she also felt very vulnerable suddenly, and ashamed. There was no excuse for her, either. She’d known from the beginning that getting sexual with Seth was a stupid, stupid thing to do.

  ‘‘I don’t know. She just collapsed. Ira went with her in the ambulance, and Mallory . . .’’ Phillip’s voice faltered, and his gaze slid past Seth to Olivia. He turned beet red as their eyes met, and from the way her face felt she supposed she did, too. ‘‘Mallory sent everybody she could find in search of you.’’

  Seth took a quick breath, and seemed to make a conscious effort to get a grip on his emotions. ‘‘Where’s Chloe?’’ It was a rapid-fire question.

  Phillip shook his head. ‘‘I don’t think she was with Aunt Callie when she collapsed. I know she wasn’t with Mallory.’’ He glanced at Olivia again, as if his gaze was drawn to her almost against his will, then back at Seth. His voice was unhappy as he said, ‘‘Mallory got Ira’s keys from him, and she’s sitting in his Lincoln out in front of the school right now, waiting to drive you straight to the hospital.’’

  Of course, Olivia thought, Mallory would be going to the hospital with Seth. He was going to marry Mallory. How could she have been so stupid as to let herself forget?

  ‘‘I’ll find Chloe and bring her home,’’ Olivia volunteered. To her surprise, her voice sounded almost normal. Right now, the best thing she could do for Callie—and Seth—was take care of Chloe.

  Seth and Phillip both looked at her.

  ‘‘Take my car.’’ Without arguing, Seth dug in his pocket for the keys. He glanced at Phillip as he handed them to Olivia.

  ‘‘Give me a second here, will you?’’ Seth said.

  Phillip and Seth exchanged a purely masculine look.

  ‘‘Oh. Sure.’’ Phillip nodded, the movement jerky, glanced again at Olivia, and withdrew.

  Seth turned back to her. His gaze met hers, and his mouth twisted almost wryly.

  ‘‘You okay?’’ he asked.

  Olivia nodded. ‘‘Fine. Go.’’ If he said he was sorry, she thought, she would want to die.

  ‘‘I’m going’’ was what he said. Then he leaned over to drop a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. ‘‘I’ll call you from the hospital. Try not to worry: I doubt if it’s anything serious. And don’t forget about Chloe.’’

  ‘‘No, I won’t.’’

  Her lips quivered from that kiss. Even as she spoke, Olivia found that she was talking to his back. Seconds later he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and she was left standing there in the boys’ locker room, alone.

  CHAPTER 33

  No! GO FIND YOUR OWN PLACE! YOU CAN’T hide in here with us! You’re too fat! Your big butt will stick out, and we’ll get caught for sure!’’ The two girls giggled, blocking the way into their hiding place—a narrow space between a central air-conditioning unit and the stucco wall of the school—with a flattened cardboard box.

  Left alone outside that coveted hiding spot, Sara backed away. Her lower lip quivered, but she bit down hard on it and refused to allow herself to cry. She should be used to it by now, but being called fat really hurt. Especially by Chloe, who was supposed to be her friend.

  ‘‘Ready or not, here we come!’’ Eric Albright and Jeff Stolz were ‘‘it,’’ and their yell galvanized Sara into looking around for another hiding spot. Not that Eric or Jeff would be looking for her, particularly. She wasn’t one of the popular girls. They would be looking for Chloe, and her best friend, Ginny, who was hiding behind the air-conditioning unit with her, or Tiffany, or Shannon, or Mary Frances, or Rachel. Those were the girls the boys liked. The thin, pretty girls who had lived in LaAngelle all their lives, and gone to school together since kindergarten. Sara was the only newcomer to this group in two years, and she was fat .

  Being fat made everything so much worse.

  Sara could hear the boys coming, laughing and calling out to each other as they ran to check all the likely hiding places behind the school, where the game was being played. The Fall Festival was going on in the building, and there was lots of activity at the front of the school and on the soccer field, but the kids had the playground to themselves. It was dark, but the boys had flashlights, and anyway there was enough light being thrown off by all the Fall Festival stuff that they would see her if they looked her way.

  Panick
ing, Sara ran to the grove of trees that ringed the school property, and ducked behind one of them. Crouching down, she watched with bated breath as, flashlight in hand, Eric ran in her direction. Eric was really cute, and she wouldn’t mind if he caught her. But if he did, then she’d have to try to beat him back to base, and she couldn’t run very fast.

  Because she was fat.

  She hated being fat.

  Her mom said she wasn’t fat, that she was perfect, but that was just how her mom was. Her mom would never tell her she was fat, even if it was true. And she knew it was. She could look at the other girls’ butts and her own butt, and see that hers was a lot fatter than theirs. It wasn’t rocket science.

  Eric ran around the big snowball bush at the edge of the grove of trees, shining his flashlight under it. Then, finding nothing, he ran back toward the center of the playground. The beam of his flashlight bobbed and weaved over the ground.

  ‘‘There’s Shannon! I see Shannon!’’

  Jeff’s yell came from the opposite end of the playground. The ensuing burst of wild shrieking and laughing told Sara that he was racing somebody home.

  A wave of loneliness so intense that she almost cried again washed over her. She missed her school, and her friends. Even in Houston, though, some of her classmates had started teasing her at the end of last year about being fat. Which told her that it was perfectly true. Everybody wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that. She was fat.

  But her friends hadn’t teased her. Kristen Staffieri had been her best friend since kindergarten. Sometimes— like right now—she missed Kristen and Polly and Grace so much.

  Why had she ever told her mom she would move to this stinky place, anyway?

  Her mom liked it here. Her mom was happy. There was enough money, and the house was a mansion, and her mom had a good job. Plus she’d grown up here, and all her friends and relatives were here. Her mom belonged here.

  Sara did not.

  But it was good to see her mom happy. Her mom had always been worried before, about money and things. And her mom was home every day after school here. That was a big plus.