Blue Moon

by Luanne Rice

  To seem tough, he’d act just like he was acting now. He’d give you this very long, head-shaking, disappointed look, say nothing until you started to squirm, and then give you detention. Belinda didn’t plan to give him the satisfaction of looking up. Finally it was quiet enough to concentrate. Mr. Sheehan cleared his throat. She just kept working. His shadow fell across her paper.

  “He’s looking down our shirts,” Emma whispered.

  “What was that, Ms. Kenneally?” Mr. Sheehan asked.

  “I said, ‘My finger hurts.’”

  “I’m glad you’re so far ahead in your classwork that you feel you can spend study hall painting your nails.”

  Belinda hadn’t looked up, but she could just picture him shaking his head, a big droopy frown on his face.

  “Ms. Medieros, what is so fascinating?”

  “My homework,” Belinda said, still not looking up.

  “Are you and Ms. Kenneally collaborating on it? Is that why you’ve spent the whole study hall talking?”

  “She’s teaching me French,” Emma said.

  “I thought you took Spanish.”

  “I do, but I’d rather speak French. I’m going to live in Paris.”

  “If you ever make it out of eighth grade,” Mr. Sheehan said coldly. Emma acted as if she didn’t care about school or grades, but Belinda knew she felt ashamed when she failed subjects. “Detention for both of you. After school, today,” he said.

  Belinda still hadn’t looked up. She heard Emma sniffle twice, very quietly. Belinda slid her hand onto Emma’s chair. She linked Emma’s little finger with her own. The cousins sat that way for just a few moments, until Belinda needed her hand to write again.

  All four Keating cousins were on the detention bus. T.J., Sean, Emma, even Perfecto. T.J. knew their mothers would be pissed. Of course, half the school had detention. The teachers liked to start the school year off extra nasty, so you’d think twice before you acted up the next time. They believed in setting an example right off the bat. T.J. had gotten his for skipping science, when actually he’d just mixed up his schedule and gone to the music room instead. It wasn’t his fault that Mr. Amato and the jazz band were jamming, but it was his fault that he’d stayed to listen.

  The bus made six stops in Alewives Park. Emma got off a stop before her normal one, probably so she wouldn’t have to walk home with Sean. She and Belinda had to have one of their major farewells; the bus driver, a new one this year, told them to move it. Little did she realize what she was in for. Knowing his sister and cousin, they’d be on the phone together in twenty minutes, so why bother with a big, dramatic bus goodbye?

  “Let her go, Belinda,” T.J. called. “She’s going home, not to the morgue. You’ll see her again.”

  Belinda shot him a very gratifying furious look. Good. Didn’t she think everyone else wanted to get home?

  “See ya, bro,” Sean said when they got to his stop. “The morgue—that was good. How’d you think of that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay. Later.” Sean made a circle with his fingers that had something to do with the devil. He’d explained the signs to T.J., but T.J. hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Yeah,” T.J. said. He wondered whether there’d been a teenage trend invented anywhere that Sean hadn’t picked up on. The Satan stuff, calling people “bro,” wanting a leather jacket. T.J. hated himself for thinking this way. He felt like something must be wrong with him to be so critical of everyone, even people he liked, all the time.

  “Hey T.J., do you have our history assignment?” Alison asked him from across the aisle.

  “Uh, yeah. In here somewhere,” he said, riffling through his notebook. She was wearing a T-shirt stretched really tight across her chest. Not that she had much to show, but just the thought of it was giving T.J. a boner.

  “Here’s your stop,” Alison said. “Maybe you could call me later? To give it to me? I mean, I’d call you, but I might get your monster sister. Didn’t she tell you I called last Friday?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, thinking he’d nail Belinda later. He wondered what Alison meant by “monster sister.” Belinda and Alison would never be best friends, that was for sure, but Belinda was too perfect to be a monster.

  “Give me forty-five minutes to get home,” Alison said. “I live out Marcellus.”

  That figured; the rich neighborhood. Alison looked expensive, with her gold bracelets, model-style hair, that certain kind of handbag that Belinda was always begging for. Passing by, he smelled her perfume. He didn’t know what it was called, but it was the kind Aunt Nora wore. Expensive-sexy.

  When he got off the bus, Belinda was waiting for him. She acted like she wasn’t. She was pretending she had a pebble in her shoe, leaning on the mailbox. But when T.J. walked past, she caught right up with him.

  “Thanks for giving me my phone messages,” T.J. said. “Alison called last Friday?”

  “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I was too mad. Was she talking about me?”

  “Long enough to call you a monster. What’d you do to her, anyway?”

  “That’s Josie she’s calling a monster. Josie picked up the phone to play one of her phone games, and Alison just happened to be calling. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. She’s telling everyone it was me making fun of her. I hate her.”

  “What did Josie say, anyway?”

  “What’s the difference? She’s just a little girl.”

  “I’ll tell Alison it wasn’t you. That make you feel better?”

  They walked half a block without saying anything. From here T.J. could see his mom’s Volvo in the driveway.

  “Can I ask you something?” Belinda sounded really nervous.

  “What?”

  “Someone told me … someone said you’re saying that you have … that you borrowed, or you own, or something … a gun.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why are they saying that?”

  “Who’s saying it?”

  “Everyone.”

  “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “I mean, I could sort of understand you saying you had one, even if you really didn’t. You did say you have one, right?”

  “No. Did Sean tell you that?”

  They had stopped in the street, right at the end of their driveway. Sean was the only person T.J. had told about the gun. If there was one person T.J. had thought he could trust, it was his cousin—especially after all that bullshit about the Brotherhood.

  “It wasn’t Sean. All I mean is, saying you have a gun would be one thing, but actually having one would be another. You don’t, do you?”

  “Belinda, I don’t have a gun.”

  Belinda nodded. “Good,” she said.

  T.J. should never have told Sean. But he’d needed to tell someone. Just knowing about that gun in the cupboard made his brain burn. It occupied one spot in his mind. He kept going back to the cupboard, again and again, just to see if the gun was still there.

  Sometimes it gave off heat—a constant, steady warmth that reassured T.J. Other times it blazed out of control, searing his nerves and making him crazy. It made him feel powerful. He had liked holding it in his hands. He would never use it, but it was something no one else had. Playing at devil worship and wanting black leather was one thing. Having a gun was another.

  12

  The Captain Ed Room, upstairs at Lobsterville, was normally reserved for private parties. The Frostbite Club held its annual awards ceremony there; local companies vied to reserve it for their Christmas parties. Rehearsal dinners, fiftieth-anniversary parties, bar mitzvahs, bashes to herald the Blessing of the Fleet were regular occurrences.

  Everyone knew it grieved Mary to have turned away the two large groups who both wanted the room that Saturday night: the Sylvester-Drake rehearsal dinner and Pat McAllister’s eightieth-birthday party. On the other hand, Nora wanted to introduce Willis to the family at large, and for that Mary said she wa
s willing to lose good business. She made sure everyone knew how happy she felt to be hosting this party.

  “She’s laying it on a little thick, isn’t she?” Cass asked Bonnie. “Willis will think she’s overjoyed to be marrying Nora off.”

  “Face it,” Bonnie said. “She is. Where are Nora and the lucky man?”

  “They stopped to pick up Granny,” Cass said. Usually her parents drove Sheila to family parties, but tonight the honor went to Nora. Josie kept running to the window to watch for their arrival.

  T.J., Belinda, Emma, and Sean stood by the dessert table. Bonnie had baked brownies, and the kids were sampling them. Both boys had their hair slicked back; Belinda wore a pink ribbon in hers. Emma’s chic crewcut looked shorter than ever.

  “There’s trouble cubed,” Bonnie said, pointing to them. “Four teenage cousins dressed like they’re ready for church. Look at Mom and Dad watching them. So proud of their model grandchildren.”

  “They probably think the kids are having a very responsible discussion about the third world or safe sex. All these terrible issues kids today have to face,” Cass said.

  “Unlike us,” Bonnie said.

  “Very unlike us.” Cass smiled and sipped her white wine.

  They all wore their best clothes, as if this were the actual wedding, not just a chance to get to know Willis better. Cass watched her father in the blue suit he wore to weddings, funerals, and special family parties.

  Billy wore the blue blazer he’d owned since before Cass married him; T.J. was wearing a black-and-navy-striped tie over a blue denim shirt. Belinda and Josie wore flowered dresses. Cass felt so proud of her kids. T.J. hadn’t wanted to come, but he’d been very polite, kissing his grandmother and Bonnie; talking about the Red Sox with his grandfather, he’d actually seemed enthusiastic.

  Mary had set out bowls of shrimp and spicy cocktail sauce, clams on the half shell, and miniature crab quiches. There were smoked mussels, scallops skewered with roasted red peppers, new potatoes hollowed out and filled with salmon mousse, a tureen of buttery lobster stew, tidbits of ginger-lime swordfish. Everything but Bonnie’s brownies was restaurant-made.

  Their father came over to stand with Cass and Bonnie. His eyes were liquid, but not from the whiskey he was drinking. He was very sentimental where his family was concerned; Cass doubted he would get through the night without crying.

  “I gave you two away; it’s about time Nora had her turn,” he said, his arm around Cass’s waist.

  “Oh, I remember that day,” Bonnie said. “You were so nervous I didn’t know if we’d make it.”

  “I only hope her marriage is as blessed as you two girls’ have been. Good husbands; nice, smart, good-looking kids. Beautiful girls, Emma, Bel, and Josie. You’ve made me a happy grandfather.”

  “Oh, Dad, it’s too early to start crying,” Cass said. “God, they say women are sentimental.”

  “Don’t you start in on me, Cassandra,” he said. “I still haven’t forgotten your display in front of John Barnard.”

  “Do you want to get into that now?” Cass asked. “Or should we try to have a nice time?”

  “Knock it off,” Bonnie said. “Billy! Get over here and keep your wife out of trouble.”

  At that, everyone—especially T.J. and Belinda—glanced over. Cass thought her teenagers looked hopeful, as if they thought she might fly off the handle and cause the party to break up.

  “It’s under control,” she called to the kids. They went back to picking at the desserts. “Look at that. All your brownies are going to have little finger holes in them.”

  “Oh, they’re just nibbling the corners,” Bonnie said. “It’ll keep them occupied. When it’s time for dessert we’ll make them eat the ones they’ve claimed.”

  “You really need to start a brownie business,” Cass said.

  “Will you give up on that?” Bonnie said.

  Billy and Gavin strolled over with Mary. “I hope my new son-in-law treats me as well as you two,” Mary said. To link arms with the two tall men, she had to hold her arms akimbo at shoulder level.

  “Where is he, anyway?” Billy asked. “Gavin and I have to welcome him into the family, do the obligatory arm wrestle. See what he’s made of. I mean, he’s marrying a Keating girl.”

  “Dear, he’s a man of high class,” Mary said. “He might not appreciate our humor right away. We’ll have to bring him along slow.”

  “Are you saying I’m a classless fisherman?” Billy asked.

  “Yes, dear,” Mary said, dimpling. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Josie, standing guard at the window, squealed to let everyone know Sheila had arrived. She scurried happily to her parents, words and sentences tripping over each other. Not understanding a word she said, her parents, grandparents, aunt, and uncle just smiled back.

  Nora and Willis walked into the room behind Sheila, who set the pace.

  “Hi, Willis,” Bonnie said, reaching up to embrace him. The rest of the family surrounded him.

  “This is such a pleasure,” Willis said. He had a broad forehead that gave him what people like to call “an open face.”

  Nora kissed her sisters and parents. “How’s the party going so far?” she whispered to Cass.

  “It’s terrific.”

  Her mother lit a cigarette.

  “Mother, you don’t need those things,” Nora said. Cass watched her mother light the match, touch it to the cigarette’s filter end.

  “Oh, Nora. You made me do it wrong,” Mary said. “There’s nothing worse than a reformed smoker.” She laughed out loud, lit another one.

  “Mrs. Keating, I smoked for many years myself,” Willis said.

  “Please call me Mary. I was just thinking how old I feel.”

  “Okay, Mary.”

  “Nora tells me you’re going to settle up here?” Mary’s voice rose questioningly.

  “That’s right,” Willis said. “No reason I can’t run my business from Rhode Island. An office is an office as long as you’ve got a telephone and a fax machine.”

  “But won’t you miss Savannah?” Bonnie asked. “You haven’t lived through a Mount Hope winter yet.”

  “Don’t scare him off!” Jimmy said.

  Nora’s head snapped toward him. “Why? Are you afraid he’ll change his mind?” Her eyes blazed, and it hurt Cass to see her father duck his head. Nora was still so sensitive. He had just been trying to joke. When he raised his eyes, Cass saw they were bruised with shame.

  “I’m sorry,” Jimmy said.

  “Scare me off?” Willis boomed with good humor, hugging Nora hard. “You’d have to come at me with bazookas and pitchforks, and even then you couldn’t scare me off. No, the day Nora came into my life was the day I became a happy man. I’m never letting her get away.”

  “That’s what a father wants to hear,” Jimmy said.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” Nora said, smiling. Funny, Cass thought, how Nora called him “Daddy” and their mother “Mother,” while Cass and Bonnie called them “Dad” and “Mom.”

  “So, you’re in the real estate game,” Jimmy said.

  “That’s right.”

  “There’s plenty for sale here in the Northeast,” Jimmy said. “If you’ve got money to spend, you can make a killing. Buy up property, hang on to it until the market turns around.”

  “I’m mainly into development,” Willis said. “We buy a parcel, make some improvements, and sell it off real quick.”

  “That’s what happened right here,” Jimmy said. “People buying up the waterfront. Just look at Nora’s place. That used to be a fish wharf, if you can believe it.”

  “Places change,” Willis said.

  “That’s the wrong kind of change,” Cass said. “Condos on the waterfront.”

  “It takes a lot of opinions to make the world go round, Cassandra,” her father said.

  “Hey, this town needed some change,” Gavin said. “When I was a kid, no one with a sane mind would set foot in this part o
f town after dark. The old Blue Moon. My uncle lost an eye in a fight down here.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Jimmy said. “That’s how Harp lost his eye? I’ll be damned.”

  “Yep,” Gavin said.

  “Of course, our warehouse was always here,” Jimmy said. “But this building, the restaurant, used to be an icehouse. What’s wrong with progress? If Ma hadn’t gotten the idea to turn the place into Lobsterville, what the hell? Customers had to walk right past the tarts and drunks, but they came anyway. Nothing wrong with moving ahead.”

  “All I’m saying is, I hate condos,” Cass said.

  “Headstrong girls, Willis,” her father said. “You’re marrying into a family of headstrong girls.”

  “That’s ‘women,’ Granddad,” Emma called.

  “Oh, right. I mean, ‘headstrong dames,’” he called back.

  “Granddad!” Belinda and Emma yelled, running over to attack him.

  “You should have put on a dress for the party,” Sheila said, eyeing Cass’s black velour pants and goldenrod sweater.

  “This town is just peachy as it is,” Willis said, gesturing toward the window. “You can’t improve on harbor views like this.”

  “Isn’t it?” Sheila asked. “You’re going to be very happy here. Let me show you some old pictures,” she said, tugging Willis’s arm. “Nora named this the Captain Ed Room, after my husband, Eddie. No one ever called him that, but everyone expects nautical stuff at the shore.”

  Josie held her mother’s hand, following her around the room. This was a standup party, with all the relatives leaning on walls, clustered around the food table, moving from one group to another. Josie’s neck ached from tilting back. She tugged her mother’s pants leg.