Watch for Me by Moonlight

by Jacquelyn Mitchard

  “Me, too.”

  “And the girl isn’t supposed to say this, but I wanted to be with you.”

  “Me, too. I was never hit so hard by a girl. When I’m away from you, all I think about is you. I think about what we could do in our lives. I think about how you’ll be when you’re a woman. I think about a place we could be together, where no one could keep us apart.”

  They shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Merry had never wanted anything so badly that it literally physically hurt. She understood all the words to all the songs now—about aching, hearts breaking, and the pain deep down inside. It was as if Ben had a hold of her soul and was pulling her toward him, holding it in his hand.

  “But there’s something keeping us apart. My sister says it’s showing up in her dreams. I have to tell you about us, Ben. Mallory and me. We’re not just twins. We see things in dreams. Mallory saw the funeral tomorrow.”

  Ben got up and began to pace. He walked up toward the altar and then back toward the bench where the two of them sat. Finally, he threw himself down on the seat, far from Merry, unable to look at her.

  “I can’t talk about that, baby. I can’t talk about that. When I think about that, it’s like cymbals clashing in my head,” Ben said. “Maybe there’s a way for us. Maybe. I’ve never met a girl like you. Back when I was in school, they all were so beautiful, but foolish. All they cared about were clothes and shoes and who got on the pom-pom squad.”

  Like me, Merry thought. Like me, before you.

  “I’m a cheerleader, Ben. I’m not a deep thinker.”

  “I know that. But you take it as a sport. You have this look in your eye like steel. Like you’re going to nail it no matter what. And when I talk to you, it’s not all about you.”

  “I want to know about you,” Merry said. “Now, before it’s too late. Where were you before?”

  “I was always here. But I think I must have had a head injury, Merry. I know that sounds like a soap opera. I think I actually forgot some period of time in my life. Because suddenly, there I was, looking up at you on that bus. And I remember other things, but they all sank away from me. Your face was like a light.”

  Merry thought of the poem, of Bess, the landlord’s black-eyed daughter.

  “When I go into my house and hang out in my room, I remember being a kid. There’s something in between though. Something bad. I think of my little mom and all that she went through. She’s so sick now. It’s about this memorial.”

  “But who is this Ben to you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ben said. “It’s like I’m looking at the world I used to know instead of being in it.” He shrugged off his leather jacket. The dim light from the electric candles on the altar made hollows under his cheeks, as though Ben were an old photo. “Mallory, if I told you that I love you, and that I’ll always love you, would you believe me? Will you stay here with me tonight?”

  “In the church?”

  “Yes, right here in front of God. We’ll just lie down beside each other and go to sleep for a while. I won’t lay a hand on you. I just want to see you sleeping. I want to see what would have been.”

  Meredith felt safe and protected and alarmed and distressed all at the same moment. Ben wanted to watch her sleep. He would watch over her. What did he mean by ... what would have been? Whatever it was, whatever they had to face, they would face together. Softly, with a low face, Ben began to sing an old song her father sometimes sang. “Imagine me and you. I do ...”

  Eventually, Merry slept.

  A PROMISE GIVEN

  Before dawn, when he came into church from the rectory to get ready to say Mass, Father Gahagan found Meredith asleep in the second pew. Gently, he touched her shoulder and asked why she was here. Merry simply shook her head: How could she explain? Father sat down beside her. He asked if she had anything she wanted to talk over, if she was considering running away from home, or if there might be a spiritual need he could help her face. Merry sat up and touched her eyes, surprised at how tender they were, as though she had cried in her sleep. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She wanted to cry out, “I have nothing but all the spiritual questions, every one of them, wrapped up in one person! And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if this life without Ben will ever feel anything but hollow.”

  “Is it about a boy, Merry?” Father Gahagan asked.

  Meredith smiled. “It is, Father. But not in any way you’d imagine. I haven’t done anything wrong except wish I could do something wrong.”

  Father Gahagan laughed. “I think you share that with about 90 percent of the human race at any given time, Meredith.”

  “And I’m losing someone, but not because he doesn’t want to stay with me,” Merry said.

  “Do you want to make your confession or just talk?”

  Meredith didn’t even know if she truly wanted to talk. She was willing to bet that she had more to say that Father Gahagan would want to hear than almost anyone who’d ever sat in his presence. But though, as a priest, evidence of the hereafter would validate his faith, he would be very hard-pressed to believe in Merry’s proof.

  “Father, do you believe in heaven?” Merry asked. The priest looked surprised but then smiled. It wasn’t the question he had expected.

  “Why absolutely. I have my doubts about hell. But I believe in the life of the world to come,” Father Gahagan said gently. “I don’t think I could be a priest if I didn’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t fear death. All of us do.”

  “What if I don’t fear death?”

  “Meredith, it’s not a way out of pain. Young people sometimes ...”

  “I’m not suicidal, Father. I promise. I just wonder what the life hereafter would be like.”

  The long creases that had been dimples when he was a boy deepened in Father Gahagan’s face. “Merry, whatever pain you feel now is temporary. Death is permanent. I can see by your face that you’re struggling. But stepping away from the lives we are given on Earth doesn’t solve anything. You’re a long way from heaven. And you’re also a long way from home. It’s nearly sunrise. We can talk more about this now or we can talk about it again. But I want to talk about it.”

  “I’d rather wait until later, until I think it through. Do you mind?”

  “Of course, Meredith. But if I trust you and keep this between us, you have to promise me one thing. And that is if you ever feel lost, you’ll come here again, just like you did tonight, only press the button behind the altar that rings my house—the gray one right up there behind the curtain. And I’ll come right away. You have to promise not to make any decisions about life and death before you talk to me.”

  “I promise. I’ll do that. I don’t want to die, Father. It’s not that.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said, studying Meredith’s face. “Do your parents know where you are?” Meredith shook her head.” The priest paused. ”Go out and get into the car, and I will drive you home. Mrs. Peller is going out your way, and I said I’d drive her too. I’ll say Mass when I come back. I’m to do a funeral at ten this morning. It was supposed to be earlier, but it had to be postponed.”

  I know, Meredith thought. She sat up and pulled on her coat thoughtfully.

  She wasn’t surprised to wake up alone on the wide oak bench.

  Last night had been deep enough for both of them. Before following Father Gahagan, she knelt for a moment in silent prayer. When she sat back, she realized that she had awakened once during the night and that she hadn’t seen Ben then, either. She had not even expected to see Ben. Yet she had gone back to sleep, soothed, as though he were there, and felt his comforting presence all around her.

  She felt his presence even now.

  Why?

  “I’m still concerned, Merry,” said the priest who had baptized all of the Brynn kids. Mrs. Peller the housekeeper had tucked herself into the backseat for a quick nap, smiling at Meredith before she quickly reached up and switched off her hearing aids. “Can you give me a
hint?”

  “Well, Father, it’s about my friend,” Merry began. On the way home, she told a story about a girl who might be in love with someone whom no one else understood. Father Gahagan had heard many variations of the same story and always counseled giving the passion time to even out. He also knew that Merry wasn’t talking about a friend.

  Within ten minutes, they were in the Brynns’ driveway. The priest reiterated the vow he expected Merry to make. And again, easily, she gave her promise.

  THE GOODBYE BOY

  Fortunately for Meredith, although her mother was loaded for bear when Merry stepped through the door, Campbell didn’t dare say a thing in front of the priest who came into the kitchen with Merry.

  Father Gahagan put on his best pulpit voice and said, “Campbell, I know you must be upset and worried. But I want to say this. I found her lying in the pew as innocent as a lamb. Alone. I hope you take that into account. Young people sometimes need to sort things out in their own ways. She was safe. And we’ve had a long talk this morning.”

  Campbell said, “Thank you for bringing her home.” As Father left, Merry’s mother turned to her. She said simply, “I called school to let them know you’ll both be late. You’ll go at noon. Let’s get moving. Take a nap if you can and then get dressed for the service at the cemetery.”

  Carla was already there, playing in the living room with Owen, and Adam had gone to school.

  Several hours later, after Mallory had commented on what a late movie her sister had gone to, Tim, Campbell, and the twins drove quietly to the cemetery, where there were a dozen cars parked along the road. Among them were their grandparents’ little SUV and Uncle Kevin’s snazzy BMW, which he called “my only vice.” Although the snow had melted (except in the shadowy crags of the ridges above) and the grass was beginning to poke through, there was still a small canopy set up and some wide flooring boards on which there were a few rows of folding chairs. Someone had also turned on a space heater with a power pack. An American flag lay over the coffin, and three young Army officers stood at attention some distance away.

  When the twins walked down the path to join the others, Father Gahagan glanced at Meredith as though he had seen a ghost.

  Then, clearing his throat, he began, “We are gathered here today to lay to rest one of our own sons, in the certainty of eternal rest and eternal peace. Our only comfort is that the ground that keeps him warm is the ground on which he played and laughed as a child....”

  Merry glanced down the row and was immensely relieved to see Ben sitting in one of the empty chairs beside a pale, tall, painfully thin older woman. On her other side sat old Mr. Highland, whom Merry thought she recognized, but barely. But when the woman began to cry and sway, someone stepped forward from behind one of the thick lanes of evergreens that lined the walk at Mountain Rest Cemetery.

  In a thick red woolen coat that had once been Aunt Kate’s, Merry recognized Sasha. Mrs. Highland turned her face into Sasha’s arm.

  The priest’s words faded into a buzz as Merry’s mind took over. She examined the spire in the middle of the park-like grounds. It was made of some kind of smooth gray stuff—marble or granite. Merry had seen it a hundred times but never looked closely at it. Now she saw that it was a war memorial, carefully inscribed with the names of the dead soldiers of Ridgeline, back as far as the Civil War. The town names were familiar: Brent, Brynn, Carew, Everard, Massenger, Woolrich, Vaughn. There were still kids at Ridgeline with those names, and kids from Ridgeline with those names had died in every war. They were probably cousins of Drew, if not uncles or even aunts. One was Charlotte Vaughn. Drew’s older sister was named Charlotte, but this Charlotte had died in the 1980s.

  “Who’s Charlotte Vaughn?” asked Mallory, as if reading Merry’s thoughts.

  “Mrs. Vaughn’s cousin. She was a nurse in the Persian Gulf War,” Tim said. “Be quiet now.”

  “You never told us.”

  “It never came up,” Tim said.

  The little Valentine tree that Mallory had seen in her dream was real and settled staunchly against the front of a small but elegantly carved marker. It read:

  Benjamin Charles Highland

  BELOVED SON

  (1951-1969)

  Smart lad, to slip betimes away

  From fields where glory does not stay

  “For Helene and Charles, the only comfort now is that their son lives on in his brother, in his namesake, in their hearts. As I told a young ... parishioner of mine just this morning, there is absolutely no doubt that Ben and his parents will meet again, at the gates of glory.”

  There were prayers and a gentle word from the tall, blond man whom Mally and Drew had seen with her parents the other night at the game. He identified himself as David Highland. He said it had been years since he had come to Ridgeline, and he had forgotten how dear it was to him. He thanked so many of his old friends for coming here today. Growing serious, as if tackling a task that he couldn’t bear, he spoke of a little brother who had been a pest when he was young “but a pest I loved. I told him to leave me alone, and then I always looked back to make sure he was following me.” David Highland said he had believed all his life that if his little brother hadn’t followed him to a place where he should never have gone, Ben would be here today with his own children. In a trembling voice, the man concluded by saying that Ben had lived and died with honor—that honor was the standard by which Ben lived.

  The soldiers stood then and presented their rifles. As they prepared to fire a salute, the old lady, whom Mallory knew now was the young woman in jeans from her dream, aged many years, stood up.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, in a strong voice much younger than her more wasted appearance. With clear but forceful dignity, she said, “Don’t you dare fire a gun over Benjamin’s grave. If it weren’t for your guns, both my sons would have spent their Christmases with me. Both my sons would have brought me their diplomas. I didn’t agree with David, but David was a grown man. Ben was not a man. He was a child.” She paused and drew a deep breath. Then she said to the Army honor guard, “I don’t disrespect you. You’re doing what you think is right. But I want Ben to lie in peace, not with the sounds of war as the last thing his spirit hears.”

  And then Helene Highland fainted. Sasha and Mr. Highland held her close.

  At a nod from the tall older brother, the honor guard raised their rifles and fired three sharp, impossibly loud cracks that seemed to shatter the air. Birds burst from the trees and fled in panic. Merry pressed her hands over her ears. Fighting hard against the spinning, the ground that seemed to draw her to it, the light that seemed to flood her head, using every trick she knew to stay present, Meredith fainted too.

  FOR THIS ONE DAY

  It’s from an old poem, that line on the grave,” Mallory told Drew. “I looked it up. His mother was an English teacher.”

  “Who exactly? Whose mother?”

  “Ben Highland,” Mallory said. It was after school on the day of the funeral, and Drew and Mallory were waiting in the hall for Meredith to finish practice. Mallory had a plan that could prove to her twin what she already knew—what she absolutely knew now to be true. She had told Drew about the sad drama at the funeral and about Meredith’s reaction. It had been their grandmother, Gwenny, who told everyone not to worry, that Merry would be fine in a moment.

  “What does ‘betimes’ mean?” Drew asked. “What does it mean, ‘to slip betimes away?’”

  “I would say it means before his time.”

  “Okay, so ...”

  “He’s dead,” Mallory said. “That’s why I can’t see him and she can. He died in a war, a long time ago. Merry’s big crush is dead.”

  Drew sighed. “I hate it when you say that.”

  They were waiting for Meredith in the hall at school. It was five in the evening and practice was over. But now, as March began to give way to April, the sky at evening went a silvery, metallic gray with a band of faded blue-jean blue. In Ridgeline, people looke
d up that day from their desks or their digging, from shaking out their rugs or shaking out bags of recycled paper, and thought, summer. Summer will come after all. Somehow, just the sight of the sun fighting to stay above the horizon lifted Mally’s spirits.

  But then Mallory saw Merry approaching. Merry had chosen to go to practice despite the fact that she’d fainted at the funeral. Anything was better than facing their mother.

  Mallory felt a moment of pity. It was going to be a rough day for her twin.

  After the service, Campbell had said to Aunt Karin that Merry had fainted because she skipped breakfast. None too gently, she helped Meredith to the car, murmuring things about low blood sugar. Once inside their car, Campbell had given Merry a glance of double fury, which Meredith thought was impossibly unfair. Okay! There was going to be a reckoning about staying out all night. But how could you get mad at a person for fainting accidentally? Still, Mallory set her chin. She was determined to sort this Ben business out, here and now.

  Watching her, Drew thought over Mallory’s plan, about which he had his own opinions. He tried to consider what he would do if Meredith were his own sister. It might be kinder not to force the issue—to just let be what would be. But he had to trust his girl. For him, Mallory was as dear to him as a sibling and also the most adorable girl on Earth. If he thought about a future with Mallory, and it occasionally crossed his mind, he knew he would have to come to grips not only with her stubbornness but with knowing the person he was with was the closest thing he would ever know to ... a witch. He would have to recognize that there would be things about Mally that only Meredith would ever know.

  The future ... this was why people didn’t like thinking about it.

  Now Mallory was on a mission. She’d sketched it in for him earlier and now was about to put it into practice. Although Drew didn’t want to know the details, Mallory insisted on telling him. That didn’t mean he wanted to witness Meredith’s pain. Thick as she could be sometimes, he cared for Merry, too.