Valley of the Moon

by Bronwyn Archer

  I just wanted him to leave us alone, at least for the time being. I was so mad at my dad for ever thinking he could do business with someone like Victor. He was the worst judge of character

  Except for my mom. He got that one right.

  Victor was silent on the other end of the call. “Victor? Are you still there?”

  “Maybe you didn’t know that the collateral on the loan is a small ranch house on Chauvet Road in Glen Ellen. Because he failed to make payments on time, I own the title at midnight tonight.”

  It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. My hand squeezed the phone and I started to hyperventilate. When I caught my breath, I spoke through gritted teeth.

  “So after you steal our house, does that mean our loan is paid and you’ll leave us alone?” I said.

  “Lana.” His voice had an edge like a knife. “I’m giving you one more chance. For your birthday. Unless you’d prefer to meet at the hospital?”

  My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. “Where do you want me to go?”

  “The Marin Yacht Club in San Rafael. Berth 38. Be there at ten tomorrow. This is not a request.”

  ***

  Cesar and Candy arrived an hour later. The second he saw me, Cesar grabbed me by the arm and hustled me into the hallway, leaving Candy at my dad’s bedside, crying and praying the rosary. He pushed me into a little waiting room off the hallway decorated with a few pleather chairs and a soda machine.

  “Your dad has a big problem, Lana. His name is Victor Savitch.”

  I nodded. “I know all about him.”

  Cesar pressed his lips together in a pained grimace. “Victor called the shop morning. Told me it was closed until further notice. He says the shop and all the cars are his, starting today.” I gasped and clapped a hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry, honey. I warned him not to get involved with a guy like that!”

  “I don’t get it—who is Victor? Can’t we go to the police?”

  He stared at me. “We can’t. Not yet. He’s Russian mafia. He’s got these two thugs who protect him, and they’re bad news. If we go to the cops, who knows what those guys will do.” I sat down in one of the pleather chairs and cradled my head in my arms. This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare.

  “What am I supposed to do? Wait until he comes to me for his money? He wants me to meet him tomorrow to discuss it!”

  Cesar’s face blanched. “Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. You go to graduation. We’ll stay here and watch your dad. After, come straight to our house and we’ll make a plan.”

  I gaped at him. “I can’t leave my dad, Cesar! Anyway, I don’t even have my gown.”

  A female voice spoke up. “Really? After all those hours my mother slaved over this? You’re going, okay?” I looked up.

  Maya was standing in the hallway with my graduation dress in her arms.

  ***

  I got out of the hospital shower and wrapped myself in a thin towel not much bigger than a washcloth. My dad was fast asleep in his hospital bed, but his color was a little better. Maya waved me over to the cot and I submitted to her beauty wizardry. She had come dressed up and ready to go to the graduation with me.

  “Did you know I called Evan to invite him?” she asked.

  “He’s coming?”

  “Yep!” She brushed my hair out in great big swoops, wielding her brush expertly. “That psychic was nuts, but she was right about Evan. Hey, did you ever figure out what she was talking about? Tamara or whatever?”

  “Uh, no.” I couldn’t tell her the truth. Even I didn’t believe it. Well, maybe I believed it a little.

  After I dried my hair, Maya helped me with my makeup. When we were done, my hair hung down my back in shiny waves, and my face looked like I had actually gotten more than two hours of sleep the night before. I stepped into the graduation dress and pushed my feet into her mother’s strappy nude stilettos, on loan for the day.

  “The shoes feel great, please tell your mom she is the best.” I zipped my dress up and presented myself for her approval.

  She clapped her hands together. “Okay, I’ve outdone myself.” The gown was lustrous white silk with spaghetti straps, a snug bodice, and a flowing skirt that fell to the floor. I tottered over to my dad’s bed and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I love you daddy,” I whispered. “See you soon.” His chest rose and fell, and the machines beeped in response.

  Maya led me away by the elbow. “Cry and I’ll kill you. I don’t have time to fix that makeup.”

  ***

  The late afternoon sun glanced off Headmaster Wimbish’s bald spot like light bouncing off a chrome hubcap. He was droning on and on about our future. All the senior girls sat in folding white chairs on a platform set up on the back lawn of the school, facing the audience. We were all in long white gowns and held matching small bouquets of pink tea roses. My skin prickled in the heat. The tight bodice of my dress was pressing uncomfortably into my ribcage, but the pain was one of the only things keeping me awake.

  I picked out Maya in the audience. You couldn’t miss her—she had pinned an elaborate fascinator to her head. Next to her, I spotted Evan, the Blodgetts, and Wyatt.

  “…and as Briar graduates, these marvelous young women are prepared for anything the future throws at them,” Wimbish intoned.

  My eyes continued to rake the crowd. There was Ramona in huge sunglasses and a sharp black suit. Eden sat next to her, squirming in a flouncy pink dress. A few rows behind them I spotted Martin Crawford with a young, pretty blonde in a white linen suit. I guessed she was Alicia, Martin’s new wife.

  Martin was the same as I remembered: nerdy, with a long, pointed nose and the same huge blue eyes as Cressida. I’d only met him once. He was tanned bronze and had mysteriously grown more hair. Well, he did move to L.A. My eyes flicked back to Ramona. Her face was like stone. I wondered how she felt about Martin and his new bride being there.

  Headmaster Wimbish was still going strong. “This class has distinguished themselves in remarkable ways. Our valedictorian has the highest GPA in Briar history. Our salutatorian, with the second highest GPA in the class, has a higher GPA than last year’s valedictorian. That’s what makes Briar girls unique—always striving for perfection.” I could almost hear sixty pairs of eyes rolling as he said that. “And now, I’d like to introduce this year’s valedictorian, Iman Zakiya-Young, who will be attending Yale.” He stumbled over her last name.

  Iman stood up and the audience hooted and cheered.

  “And our Salutatorian, Lana Rose Goodwin, who will be attending Columbia.”

  The audience clapped. Maya whistled. I had not gotten this memo. The light hurt my eyes. Headmaster Wimbish craned his head to look in my direction.

  “Lana, stand up!” Piper hissed from the row above me. I stood up, wobbling in Candy’s heels. I squinted in the bright sun and gave the crowd a little bow. Movement near the back of the crowd caught my eye. I watched as tall guy wearing all black slipped out of the back row and disappeared behind the hedges surrounding the lawn. A blonde woman in a red suit stood and followed him. They both looked familiar. I sat down and my breath hitched in my throat. It can’t be them. They wouldn’t come here, would they?

  “Thank you, girls. And now, I invite all of you to join us at the Ball, which will be held immediately following the ceremony in the Athletics Pavilion.” The ball!

  The Briar Ball was the dance held every year after graduation. It was basically a debutante ball. Seniors had to be escorted in by their fathers, or if the father was unavailable, another adult male relative. Each girl’s name was announced as her escort led her into the ball.

  I had been dreading it all year, and that was when my dad was healthy. My escort was lying in a hospital bed, and I had no backup plan. I would be walking in alone. It was a ridiculous tradition, but the idea of enduring one more Briar humiliation made me want to vomit.

  As soon as the ceremony ended, the guests headed down the path from the main building
towards the Athletics Pavilion. The seniors formed a line at the side door to the gym, with their escorts.

  “Lana, I’m so sorry your dad can’t be here. Why don’t I escort you in with Piper?” Mr. Blodgett smiled kindly at me. Piper and I both towered over her dad in our heels.

  “That’s okay, Mr. Blodgett. I’m fine.” The last thing I wanted to be was a third wheel to the ultimate father-daughter moment of ever.

  Cressida and Martin Crawford were on their way into the line when Martin spotted me.

  “Hey, kiddo! Great to see you! Wow, you’re all grown up!” He wrapped me in a tight hug as Cressida glowered next to him. She wore an elaborate white ball gown. The strapless bodice pushed her breasts sky high. Martin glanced awkwardly from me to Cressida. “Is your dad here, kiddo?”

  “He couldn’t make it. He got really sick.”

  He cleared his throat. “Oh, that’s a shame. Well, I have a spare arm if you need an escort. Cress, you don’t mind, do you?” He held his free elbow out to me. I saw Cressida grinding her teeth. She still hadn’t said a word to me.

  “That’s really nice of you, Martin, but I promise I’m fine.”

  Cressida pulled him away. “See? I told you, Dad. Now come on, we have to get in line.”

  “We’ll catch up inside, Lana.” Martin winked at me as Cressida yanked him into the line.

  I smelled cloying perfume and then Miss Grimm swept in front of me, holding a clipboard. She was encased in a shiny peach taffeta gown with puffy sleeves. Her sensible bob was curled and moussed stiff for the occasion.

  “Miss Goodwin! Where in the world is your escort?”

  “My dad’s sick, so I’m flying solo today, Miss Grimm.” The line had quieted down and other girls were listening to our conversation.

  She grimaced. “Oh dear! Isn’t there another male member of your family we can ask?” This was getting ridiculous. Technically, I didn’t even go to Briar anymore. What was she going to do, suspend me?

  “Did you say ‘male member,’ Miss Grimm?” I asked. Noelle Hoberman, standing next to me with her elderly grandfather, cracked before clapping a hand over her mouth. Miss Grimm scowled disapprovingly. “Look, Miss Grimm, can’t I just go in by myself?” I asked. “Aren’t we all supposed to be strong, independent women now?”

  Piper called out from near the front of the line, “Hey, Lana! Want me to grab Wyatt?”

  “I’ve seen you do that way too much, Piper,” I called back. “No thanks.” More laughter.

  Miss Grimm bristled. “I’m glad you think this is funny, Miss Goodwin, but we have never allowed girls to make their entrance alone.”

  “It’s 2016. Maybe it’s time to update the rule.” I heard a drumroll from inside the gym.

  Miss Grimm gasped. “It’s starting!” She trotted to the front of the line, pointed to the first girl, and frantically waved her through the door. We were lined up in alphabetical order. Isabelle Atchison and her father strode into the gym, arm in arm. I heard the crowd cheer as her name was announced.

  Piper beckoned to me and mouthed the words, “Come with us!”

  I shook my head. My feet wobbled in Candy’s heels and the bodice was making it hard to breathe. I just wanted to get it all over with and go home.

  Piper and her dad made their entrance. Then Cressida and Martin. Fernanda Cruz. Bernadette and her father. Finally, it was my turn. Miss Grimm grimaced when she saw me at the front of the line. Alone.

  “Oh Lana, this is terrible.”

  “It’s fine, Miss Grimm. Really.” But inside, the butterflies were going wild.

  “Marissa Frye!” I heard the announcer trill. I was right after Marissa. She and her father stepped over the threshold into the darkened gym to loud cheers.

  “Oh dear! Well, we don’t have much of a choice, do we? Get ready, Lana. Wait…wait…and…GO!” At the last second, I hesitated, one foot on the threshold. All those people, and I was going to waltz in solo? Was I nuts? I took a step backwards. My car was right in the parking lot… I could run, jump in, and just drive away…

  I heard my name blasting through the loudspeaker. “Miss Lana Goodwin!”

  Miss Grimm gave me a firm push, and I lurched forward into the ball.

  ***

  The instant I stepped inside, a dazzling spotlight blinded me. The cheering crowd went silent as I stood there blinking in the light. I couldn’t see a thing. The announcer said my name over the loudspeaker again. “Miss Lana Goodwin!” Just get it over with. Wave and leave.

  I gritted my teeth and took a wobbly step forward. To my astonishment, a muscular arm slid around my waist.

  “Sorry I’m late,” a male voice said. The stranger led me to the center of the dance floor, placed his hand on my waist, and spun me around. A dim part of my brain registered wild cheers from the crowd, along with a few catcalls.

  “Hey Lana,” he whispered. “Breathe.” The spotlight illuminated his face and I found myself staring into a pair of wide-set hazel eyes. All the blood in my body defied gravity and rushed to my head. Somehow, incredibly, it was Tractor Beams. The guy whose car I crashed. The guy from my dad’s shop. Dark hair cut short, high cheekbones, the chin with the little cleft in it, those eyes. This is not happening. How can this be happening?

  “If I had known what you looked like out of that valet uniform, I would have tried a little harder to be on time,” he whispered in my ear.

  “But what…what are you…” was all I managed to say before losing radio contact with my tongue and my vocabulary.

  “Mind if we go someplace we can chat?”

  He threaded his arm through mine and guided me to the edge of the dance floor. Fernanda Cruz stared at him like she wanted to eat him. In fact, a lot of the girls were looking at him. So were some of the mothers.

  The Briar Athletics Pavilion had been transformed into a glittering ballroom. There was a shiny dance floor in the middle, ringed by round tables draped in silver tablecloths. Extravagant flower arrangements were set on each table. A small orchestra at one end of the gym—complete with musicians in white tuxedos—played the greatest hits from the 18th century.

  As we made our way through the crowd, I even caught a few grandmothers ogling him.

  I was at a convention of hungry lions with a dead gazelle in my mouth.

  Behind us, I heard the announcer call the name of the next girl. He led me to a small table in the corner and pulled out a chair for me. I pulled my arm free and faced him.

  “Why are you here?” I demanded. “What is going on? Is this a joke?” His eyes glowed with pleasure.

  “It’s kind of a long story. I heard you needed an escort to this shindig. I’m not normally in the escort business. But for family, I make exceptions.” His eyes crinkled and the dimples in his cheeks deepened.

  Wait. WAIT. Did he say…family?

  “What are you talking about!” I shook my head in a futile attempt to think clearly. Could he be a relative of my dad’s from Kansas City? He sure didn’t look like he lived in a trailer park or ran a truck stop bar. Then I remembered Ramona’s phone number programmed into his car. I didn’t want to hate him, but if had anything to do with Ramona, I’d have to. I braced myself to hate him.

  “Have a seat and I’ll explain.”

  I obeyed, hardly able to breathe. He sat next to me and scooted his chair close. I could smell his cologne. He adjusted his tie and leaned in towards me.

  “First of all, you look very nice. I’m glad you didn’t wear the wig.”

  I blushed hotly. “I only wear that for work.” He grinned and his eyes twinkled in the low light.

  “Second, I’m really sorry about your dad.” How does he know? “I hear he’s going to make a full recovery, which is awesome.”

  “How do you know about him?”

  “My name is Alexander Ambrose. We’ve been looking for you, Lana Goodwin.” My mouth went dry. Ambrose.

  I gathered my shattered thoughts and cleared my throat.

  “But…you
already found me! When you bought your car from my dad’s shop!”

  He grinned. “You’re an excellent saleswoman, by the way. I didn’t know who you were yet. Sheer coincidence. My father saw the car online and sent me to pick it up. Lucky for me my mom hated it, so now it’s mine. Severine didn’t ask me to help find you til last month.”

  He was looking for me.

  For me.

  “Who is Severine and why’d she ask you?” I tried to act normal but it was hard when he kept looking right at me. His eyes glinted gold in the low light.

  “Great-aunt Georgette’s old servant. She tried writing you letters, she said. She asked me because she knew I lived in San Francisco, and out of all the Ambroses, I’m the only one close to your age.” Great-aunt Georgette! I had a billion thousand questions. But I first had to know more about the handsome stranger who, it turned out, I had some actual, real connection to.

  “So how old are you?

  “Twenty-three.”

  “And you’re saying we’re related?”

  “Yeah, we seem to be cousins—distant cousins. But not so distant anymore, right?” He laid a hand on mine. His skin was dry and warm. I took a deep breath. My thoughts ran wild and I tried to control the heat rising in my face.

  “I didn’t know I had any cousins.” Especially not gorgeous ones.

  He laughed. “I’ll draw you a family tree one day. Here’s the abridged version: Claudette Ambrose was your great-grandmother—Bart Fremont’s mother—and she died years ago. Georgette was her little sister. Together, Claudette and Georgette raised your mother in New York City after her parents died.”

  I could barely breathe. All the secrets…he knew all the secrets.

  “They also had an older brother, George Ambrose. My great-grandfather.” He squeezed my hand and his eyes softened. “Any questions?”

  A stab of unexpected anger went through me. For so long it had just been my dad and me, alone in the world.