Moonglow

by Michael Griffo

  Chapter 15

  From the moment it started I wanted Christmas to be over, but it felt like the day that wouldn’t end.

  We all got up around the same time, not too early and not too late, and my father cooked us our traditional Christmas breakfast of French toast and Canadian bacon. Edible. I know we talked at the kitchen table, but since Barnaby carried most of the conversation, it consisted of the latest technology gadget news and how he had to keep training over the holiday break in order to keep his edge as rising star of the Two W track team. Boring.

  Then we moved from the kitchen into the living room where we sat in front of the Christmas tree willing ourselves to feel the joy of the season. Failure. After accepting that this Christmas was never going to crack the top ten list of Favorite Robineau Family Holidays, we proceeded to open our gifts.

  I didn’t get anything spectacular or worth mentioning. Well, that’s not true, I might have, but I honestly can’t remember what my father and Barnaby got me. All I kept thinking was that this would be my last day on earth where I wouldn’t know the truth. Tomorrow all would be revealed. Either the full moon’s glow is going to transform me into something subhuman, or I’m going to have to confess to the world that I possibly committed a subhuman act without any supernatural intervention. Like I said, it was not a good day. Luckily my boyfriend has the uncanny ability to know exactly when I need him.

  His kisses feel wonderful. Tender and hot and when I wrap my fingers around his bicep I can tell that he just spent an hour working out in his basement. Maybe I am inappropriate—we are in my kitchen after all—but I want to lose myself in Caleb’s kisses and his touch and his body. I want to run upstairs, lock my bedroom door, and give myself to him right now. For a few seconds while Caleb responds to my deep kisses, I contemplate taking him by the hand and secretly leading him upstairs. I know that Caleb would love the idea, but I’m not sure if he would give in to the passion I know is churning in his stomach. I am the daughter of the sheriff. Though he might think he had a fighting chance if he knew Sheriff Daddy’s gun shoots blanks.

  “Merry Christmas, Domgirl.” He sighs.

  “Merry Christmas, Bells,” I reply.

  Caleb pushes me away and scrutinizes me like I’ve done something wrong. Turns out I’ve said something wrong. “That’s Archie’s name for me,” he says. “You can’t use it.” I forgot that my boyfriend kind of has a boyfriend too.

  “Didn’t know Archie had dibs on it.”

  His expression lies somewhere between sincerity and sarcasm. “He does, so you just have to call me something else,” he informs me.

  “How about Christmas Bells,” I declare.

  I can tell from his expression that he’d prefer I come up with something more original, but luckily Caleb knows when he’s going to lose a battle. He doesn’t fight me; he just lets me have my way. It’s nice to know that I can count on him to be stable when my world is wobbly and disorienting.

  We join my father and Barnaby in the living room, and I’m tricked into thinking we’re an ordinary family. Twinkling lights on the tree, crackling Yule log on the TV, and munching cookies on the floor. We’re downright traditional.

  Sitting next to Caleb, his arm brushing against mine every so often out of need and not by accident, I can tell that he wants to be alone with me. My father gets the hint as well, though it takes a bit of conniving to get Barnaby to get in step with the rest of us. Finally, my father convinces my brother to join him upstairs so they can install the new wireless router he bought for us. Barnaby is reluctant to give us some privacy, but in the end he can’t resist the lure of superior technology.

  When we’re alone, Caleb stiffens instead of relaxing, and I wonder if he’s going to break up with me for acting like such a weirdo these past few months. But no, he would never do that, not on Christmas Day. Would he?

  “Merry Christmas, Dominy,” he says softly, handing me a beautifully wrapped box.

  Green velvety wrapping paper with a piece of red string instead of a bow. Sort of Christmas meets Jane Eyre.

  “It’s beautiful,” I reply.

  “You’re not supposed to say that until you open it,” he reminds me.

  As carefully as possible, I open up the package, trying my best not to damage the wrapping. It’s silly I know, but it looks so pretty, it would be a crime to just tear it. When I see what it’s concealing, I know I acted appropriately.

  “Oh, Caleb,” I gasp. “It really is beautiful.”

  A circle of diamonds on a beautiful silver mesh chain. Probably diamond chips, but I don’t care. It’s the first piece of jewelry Caleb’s ever given me, the first piece of jewelry any boy’s ever given me, and I know immediately that I’ll treasure it forever. Just like I want to treasure this moment. And I will, but for all the wrong reasons.

  “I was going to get you the one with three stars,” Caleb admits. “But Napoleon has a tattoo like that and no way was I getting you a gift that was going to remind you of him.”

  “Napoleon has a tattoo?” I ask.

  “Yeah, three stars on his leg,” Caleb explains.

  “How come I’ve never seen it?” I ask.

  “You better not have seen it,” he replies as he puts the necklace around my neck and fastens it. “It’s way up his left leg, top of his thigh. I’ve only seen it once when he was changing after gym.”

  I try to get a mental picture of nerdy Napoleon with an edgy tattoo, but the image doesn’t materialize; the idea is ridiculous.

  “I think he’s embarrassed by it though,” Caleb continues. “He’s always trying to cover it up. Anyway, I just didn’t want anything to link the two of you together.”

  The first kiss is quick, but the next one lasts much longer. “You have nothing to worry about,” I tell him.

  Reaching behind me I find my gift for Caleb and give it to him. It’s not as exquisite as my necklace, but he loves it just the same.

  “How’d you know I wanted a David Humm football?”

  “Because you’ve been dropping hints since July!” I remind him.

  I don’t even know who this David Humm person is, but if his autograph on a football makes my boyfriend happy, it was worth all the money I spent on the thing. Watching Caleb grip the football and make believe he’s going to toss a touchdown-winning pass causes the insides of my stomach to flutter. He’s so handsome and sexy and mine, and I want him to know that; I want him to know without a doubt that he’s loved and appreciated. Instead I prove that I’m daddy’s little girl and lie.

  “Can’t believe I have to go on a road trip with my dad tomorrow.”

  To ensure that our mid-holiday absence doesn’t arouse any suspicions, my father came up with the story that we’re driving to Iowa the next day to look at colleges, when in reality we’ll be camping out in the wilderness to see if the full moon has any power. I’m only a sophomore, but my father is anal-retentive and a planner, so Caleb—and everyone else we told—totally believed the story.

  “You really think you might go all the way to Iowa for school?” Caleb asks, as if Iowa were Indonesia.

  “Doubtful,” I reply. “I mean Bethany is a good school.”

  “And it rhymes with Bettany,” Caleb says, “so you can’t forget me.”

  I blush a little at his comment, but I’m trying too hard to follow the logic of my lies; I don’t dare return his flirt. “Briar Cliff’s good too, but I don’t think I’d get into either.”

  Caleb can’t hide his relief at my hypothetical academic shortcomings. I don’t take it as an insult, since he isn’t focused on my chances of getting a highly regarded higher education, but on the fact that if I cross the state border, I’ll be lost to him forever. He has no idea that there are other borders that once crossed make it much more difficult to return to the world and the life that you leave behind.

  “I didn’t want to disappoint my dad,” I elaborate. “He’s mega looking forward to this daddy-daughter road trip so we can bond.”

&nbs
p; Caleb rubs his fingers along the nape of my neck, and the unexpected movement lifts the chain of the necklace, making the diamond circle travel over my skin. It’s like he’s lit a match; a current of pink heat encircles me, and I sigh. Of course Caleb takes this as further confirmation that I have no intention of ever leaving him or living outside of the Weeping Water town limits. He has no idea that it’s because my lies are like a fire and are about to consume me. Always on cue, Caleb is ready with the extinguisher.

  “At some point on the drive you can slip in that Big Red is a good school,” Caleb teases.

  “What?!” I exclaim, suddenly feeling as cold as ice.

  “Big Red,” Caleb repeats. “David Humm is one of their legendary quarterbacks, and it’s my dad’s alma mater, so it’s probably where I’ll end up going too.”

  For one horrifying second I thought I had misjudged Archie and he had told Caleb all about Operation Big Red, but Big Red is the nickname for University of Nebraska, which is in Lincoln and therefore commuting distance from Weeping Water. Merely Caleb’s way of suggesting that we can attend college together and never be apart. Both suffocating and sweet at the same time, but at least it isn’t confirmation that Archie can’t be trusted.

  Caleb’s hand feels so soft on one side and so rough on the other. I hold it in my hands and wonder how much longer I’ll get to do just that. How much longer would Caleb want to be touched by a freak? Or worse, a murderer?

  “I’ll definitely slip Big Red into the conversation,” I say as if I mean to keep my promise.

  Truth is I never thought much about college or leaving town or leaving Caleb for that matter. I like my life the way it is—well, the way it was—so I was in no hurry to make any changes. Yes, attending college is a given, but since Weeping Water is a small town, there are really two choices you can make: become a townie or escape. As the daughter of the town sheriff I guess everyone, including myself, always assumed I’d never break free and that I would commit to walking down that unbreakable path by attending a local college. And I guess now, as the town’s youngest girl murderer, I’ll never break free from my inevitable death-row prison sentence.

  “You have to go,” I blurted out.

  “What?” Caleb said, his voice all little-boy squeal.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s getting late, and all this college talk reminded me that I still haven’t packed.”

  Now it was Caleb’s turn to laugh. “Gonna take you all night just to fill up your makeup bag,” he said. “You and Jess carry around so much makeup all the time, you make the lunch table look like one of those makeover counters at Dillard’s.”

  It’s not until he stops talking that we both realize he used Jess’s name in the present tense. There’s nothing left for us to say, nothing that Caleb thinks he can say that will make me forget Jess is no longer alive, and nothing that I can think of to say that will make me forget that I’m responsible.

  On my doorstep, the cold wind does its best to separate us and pull us apart. I lie to Caleb once more and tell him that I’ll be fine, that I’m not upset by his mentioning Jess, that I had been thinking about her all day. That part was true; I just didn’t tell him in what context. He kisses me softly on my lips, the warmth emanating from him desperately trying to win out over the cold, but the wind and the fear churning in my stomach are too much competition. I don’t think he knows that he lost out. He’s too innocent to believe such a thing could happen, and I’m just the opposite.

  After I unplug the Christmas tree lights, my necklace is the only thing left sparkling in the room. When I turn around I’m surprised to find my father staring at me. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I know exactly what he’s thinking; it’s the same thing that’s been in the back of my mind all day long. Tomorrow may be my last day of peace. When the full moon comes tomorrow night, if this curse really does control me, what kind of a life am I going to have? How will I ever live knowing each month I’m going to turn into some kind of monster? And why is Caleb knocking on our front door.

  “Tell your boyfriend it’s getting late,” my father says, his voice no longer sweet and pleasant.

  “I’m sure he just forgot something,” I say.

  But it’s not Caleb knocking on the door; it’s Nadine. Is she not only smart, but psychic too? Does she somehow know about my conversation with Archie and want to explain her unexplainable comment? Or does she really have a knack for showing up when least expected?

  “May I come in?” she asks before I can even say hello.

  “Sure,” I reply, because I can’t think of anything else to say.

  I’m not sure who’s more surprised when they see each other, my father or Nadine.

  “Sorry, I thought I might find you alone,” she stutters. Her lips continue to flutter nervously after she stops talking. The bee is a bit more like the butterfly than I thought.

  “Don’t mind me,” my dad says, starting upstairs. “But remember, Dominy, we have a big day tomorrow.”

  When we hear my father’s bedroom door close, Nadine finally speaks. “That’s why I’m here,” she whispers. “To talk about tomorrow.”

  So no explanation about her comment, but I’m about to get an invitation.

  “If this thing happens like you think it might,” she starts, “you’re going to need a safe place to hide out.”

  “We thought we’d go down to The Retreat and shake things up,” I joke.

  “What?!”

  Clearly Nadine doesn’t think I’m funny.

  “I’m kidding,” I tell her. “My father has a plan to get us out of town. I’m not sure exactly where we’re going, but we’re camping out somewhere.”

  “You’re going camping?” Nadine asks, justifiably flabbergasted.

  “I know!” I reply. “Do I look like a girl who even knows how to unzip a sleeping bag?”

  “Well, as my Christmas gift to you let me save you from sleeping under the stars,” Nadine begins. “I think you should use my family’s cabin.”

  Sleeping in a warm bed in a cabin is a lot nicer than sleeping in a bag out in the cold. But wait a second, my father and I aren’t going on a vacation; we’re setting out on a mission. Nadine completely understands this.

  “It’s secluded and away from town,” she adds. “So you won’t be near any people on the very slim chance you do turn into this . . .”

  I don’t need to finish her sentence, but I do need to thank her.

  “That’s very nice of you,” I say, genuinely touched.

  “So you accept?” she asks anxiously.

  “Well, I’ll suggest it to my father and let you know.”

  She takes out a folded-up piece of paper from her coat pocket and gives it to me. “It’s a map so you can find it,” she explains. “There are two cabins on the property, the main house and a smaller one that was the original cabin that my grandfather built.”

  “Which one should we use?” I ask. “You know, if we decide to take you up on your offer.”

  “The main house is a lot larger,” she replies, then reaches into another pocket of her coat and takes out a key. “Dominy, I really think this is the perfect solution.”

  When Nadine gives me the key, I could swear she’s just handed me a prickly sharp needle, and I flinch. After she leaves I look at my fingers, certain that I’ll see blood and a puncture wound. Nothing. Next, I hear a voice in my head congratulating me for following my instincts and confiding in Nadine. She’s turned out to be trustworthy, supportive, and generous.

  If all that’s true, then why do I feel like I’ve just been stung by a bee?

  Chapter 16

  “I hate you two!” Barnaby yells from the backseat of the car. “Why can’t I go with you guys this weekend?”

  “Because you would be bored stiff, and I don’t want to hear you complain nonstop for the next two days,” my father replies.

  We’ve devised the following plan: My father and I are allegedly going to Iowa to look at a few colleges,
and while we’re away my brother is going to stay with Arla and her dad. It’s totally believable because what little brother wants to traipse around Iowa looking at colleges with his father and big sister? He doesn’t even want to come with us, but now that we’re pulling up in front of Arla’s house, he’s getting nervous.

  “I won’t complain,” he protests.

  “Barnaby, you’re not coming,” my father says firmly.

  If his words aren’t definitive enough, he gets out of the car and slams the door shut.

  “This is all your fault,” Barnaby seethes. “You’re nothing but a BFK.”

  Whipping around to face him, I ask, “What’s that stand for?”

  “Best friend killer.”

  Harsh, vile, kind of clever, and yet, most likely, accurate. It takes me a moment to rebound from that comment. Actually, I take more than just a moment, and I only return from my daze when I hear my father knocking on the window.

  “Come on, Dom,” he instructs.

  By the time I get inside the Bergeron house, Barnaby is the center of attention, like a long lost child instead of an overnight guest. Louis is telling him how he’s going to challenge him to an Xbox marathon, first man whose thumbs bleed loses, and Arla is flirting with him. She’s only doing it to tease him because she knows he’s developed a crush on her since he joined the varsity track team of which she’s a starring member, but it’s still, oh what’s the word? That’s right, icky.

  Out of Barnaby’s line of vision, Arla winks at me. That wink conveys so much girlfriend-to-girlfriend information. Don’t worry; my flirting is completely harmless. Don’t worry; your brother is in good hands. And don’t worry; you won’t want to kill yourself after spending forty-eight hours with your dad. Well, two out of three ain’t bad. By the end of our trip, I may very well want to kill myself, and it will all be because of my dad.

  A few minutes later we leave a tongue-tied Barnaby and set off for our fictitious confabs with the deans of several prestigious Iowa colleges. I should be worried that Barnaby might slip and tell Arla or worse, her deputy sheriff father, about what he knows of our lies, but I’m not. I’ve got too much to think about. Now that it’s just me and my father in the car, I don’t have to keep up appearances; I don’t have to act as if everything is okay and that I’m not scared out of my mind. Surprisingly, though, fear isn’t the strongest emotion I’m feeling; it’s anger.