Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “No,” Ashley said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “It was totally not cool. We lost everything, which is why the only puzzle I have left from when I was a little kid is this one. It was at my grandma’s house.”

  Evan sat up, tucking his feet under his little body. “Was it a real hurricane, like a category five?”

  “Four and, yes, trust me, it was so real.”

  “Was it loud? What did it feel like? Did you get hurt? Was there lightning? Were there tornadoes? Did you see them with your own eyes?”

  Ashley laughed, and Pasha did, too. “Um, yes, it was as loud as a train. I don’t remember any lightning or the tornadoes and, as a matter of fact, I was certain we were going to die. Why are you so obsessed with this?”

  “Because I love weather,” Evan said, shifting his attention back to the puzzle.

  “He’s going to be a meteorologist,” Pasha told Ashley, getting rewarded with a gorgeous smile from the young boy. “What is it you like about weather so much, little one?” she asked.

  “Everything, but I’m not that little.”

  “Of course not. Force of habit.” She rose from the chaise and ambled over to the glass-topped patio table, taking a seat and resting her chin on her hands to watch him and remember.

  She and Matthew used to do puzzles and play games like Hi Ho Cherry-O and Barrel of Monkeys. They’d play cards and take long walks to the lake for picnics. And, of course, they’d read the messages from Mother Nature, making up all kinds of funny things together. Every time she made a “prediction” now, it was really a secret whisper to heaven.

  Could Matthew hear her—forty-seven years after that horrible night?

  “The thing about weather,” Evan said. “It always changes.”

  “It does indeed,” Pasha agreed.

  “And there’s a reason why I like it.” Evan hesitated with a puzzle piece, but not because he didn’t know where to place it. There were only about six pieces left, and she had no doubt he knew where every one of them fit.

  “Weather is the neatest thing in the world.” He looked up, his eyes very much like his father’s, keen and earnest, fringed with black lashes and bright with the emotion of talking about something he loved.

  “It’s certainly one of the most powerful,” she agreed.

  “Right!” He dropped the piece of the puzzle on the table. “Like nobody in the whole world can do anything about it,” he said. “Weather just does what weather wants to do. And it does some really neat things. Did you know that if a butterfly flaps its wings in Hong Kong, it can change the weather in California?”

  “That’s not true!” Ashley said, earning a dire look from him.

  “Oh, yes it is. You can look it up on weather.com or any of the really good weather Web sites.”

  Ashley gave another eye roll. “Like that’s my idea of a fun time.”

  “Well, it’s obviously his,” Pasha said gently. “So you should respect that, Ashley. And, Evan, that might be the most interesting thing I ever heard.”

  “Oh, I know all kinds of things like that,” he told her. “Like, do you know that if you weighed all the rain that falls on the earth in one year, it’s like five thousand million million tons? That’s two millions.”

  “That’s a lot of rain,” Pasha said.

  They’d lost Ashley, who started putting in the last pieces of the puzzle, but Evan was on fire with excitement. “And you know what else?” he asked.

  “Tell me,” Pasha said, fighting the urge to reach out for his little cheeks and squeeze them. “What else?”

  “Did you know the temperature of a lightning bolt is hotter than the surface of the sun?” He pushed himself up so he was practically kneeling.

  “I did not know that,” Pasha said. “Did you know that, Ashley?”

  “That’s super hot,” she said, utterly bored. “You want to do the last piece, Evan?”

  “No.” He was locked on Pasha now, the two of them connected. “Did you know there’s such a thing as a moonbow?”

  Every cell in her body—the sick ones, the healthy ones, the old ones, the near-dead ones—froze for a moment.

  “A moonbow?” Her voice shuddered a little.

  “It’s like a rainbow, but at night from the moon. Isn’t that cool?”

  She tried to swallow, but her damn wretched throat made it impossible.

  “As a matter of fact…” Heavens above, maybe Mother Nature really did talk to her! “I saw a moonbow once.” The announcement came out hoarse, and she had to work not to go into a coughing fit. She didn’t want to ruin this blissful moment.

  “Really?”

  “Do you know what a moonbow means?” she asked.

  “It means it rained and the moon’s light is reflected through the water, creating a prism.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “It means that your one true love will return.”

  He squished up his face. “Ewww.”

  Ashley giggled. “You don’t have a true love back at school in Chicago? A little third-grader you have your eye on?”

  He curled his lip. “Hell no.”

  Ashley gasped. “Watch your mouth.”

  He ignored the warning and turned to Pasha. “That’s not what a moonbow means.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Aunt Pasha knows,” Ashley said. “She can predict the future by looking at the clouds or dirt or even the foam at the beach.”

  Evan looked from one to the other, clearly not buying it. “I don’t know anything about that. I only know what’s real and scientific, not that kind of woo-woo stuff.”

  “Finally, something you don’t know,” Ashley said, pulling out her phone to tap on the screen. “Oh, Aunt Zoe texted. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”

  “Good, ’cause I want to go on my computer and look up moonbows.”

  “You won’t find what I told you on the Internet,” Pasha told him.

  “Then it’s not true,” he shot back. “ ’Cause everything in the world that’s true is on the Internet.”

  Ashley snorted. “Not hardly.”

  “It’s true,” Pasha assured him. “I know things like that.”

  He looked uncertain, but then he smiled, revealing his too-large teeth and a gleam in his eyes. “ ’Kay,” he conceded. “I like to learn things.”

  “Then we’ll be a great team.”

  His smile was so real, so heartfelt, and so much like Matthew that for the first time in months and months, Pasha almost wanted that black pressure in her chest to go away. She almost wanted to live.

  “Hello, we’re home!” Zoe came breezing onto the patio, her green eyes sparking like she had a secret, her hair wild from the wind.

  Home? She thought of this as home already? Of course, with Zoe’s life, she could think of a motel room on a rural highway as home. That was the sad, sad legacy that Pasha had given her.

  Zoe came to the table, leaning over to give Pasha a kiss, her cheek warm from the summer air. Or was it that Oliver Bradbury gave her a flush of love?

  The moonbow promised the return of true love. But whose love? A little boy like the one Pasha had lost, or a man like the one Zoe had lost?

  The one Zoe had lost because of Pasha. “How was your ride, honey?” she asked Zoe.

  “Amazing.”

  Pasha couldn’t help but grin. “I like the sound of that.”

  Zoe slipped into one of the empty chairs, and Pasha got a good look at her face. Her sweet cheeks high with color, her ever-present smile as wide as ever. “I have so much to tell you.”

  “Is my dad here?” Evan asked.

  “He’s bringing some things out of the car,” she said. “We stopped by his storage unit and picked up stuff for this house.”

  Evan’s eyes grew wide. “I hope he remembered my Xbox. I had to use the system in the Shitz-Carl—” He gave Pasha a guilty look. “I mean the Ritz-Carlton. Be right back.”

  Pasha watched him tear back into the house and Ashley got up to follow. “
I better keep an eye on that kid,” Ashley said. “He’s a cussing computer trapped in the body of an eight-year-old boy.”

  Zoe laughed, but Pasha sighed with contentment.

  “He’s wonderful,” she said.

  “You really like him, don’t you?” Zoe asked, absently turning the puzzle spread out over the table.

  “I do. He reminds me…” Oh, dear. Careful, Pasha. “He’s a very endearing and intelligent young man.”

  “So’s his dad,” Zoe whispered, leaning close.

  “Ahh, I thought you looked like a woman all smitten.”

  “Pasha, I’ve been to his clinic.”

  And that was what had her glowing? “Why did you go there?”

  “Why do you think? Oh my God, I’m so excited. They can cure you.”

  “Zoe, I doubt—”

  “Don’t doubt!” Zoe squeezed Pasha’s hand. “Do you want to talk to Oliver about it now? We’ve been with his partner, another doctor, and they can do gene therapy, Pasha. They can do amazing things that no regular hospital can do. It’s this new—”

  “No, no.” Blood rushed in Pasha’s head, thrumming and pounding.

  “I know what you’re worried about, Pasha,” Zoe rushed on, undaunted by Pasha’s protests. “This will be completely confidential and no one will have to know anything, not your name or identification. It’s perfect!”

  No, it wasn’t perfect. “I’m sure it’s dangerous and risky, though.”

  “Not as risky as dying!”

  Pasha inched back at the outburst. “I don’t think you should fight nature, dear.”

  Emerald eyes popped wide in response. “What are you saying? You won’t treat this illness, even if it doesn’t mean…exposure?”

  Pasha turned toward the pool. The day had been nice. Warm sunshine and memories. But she’d made up her mind, and as long as she was alive and the threat existed, she was blocking Zoe from happiness.

  “I’m tired and I want to go home.” She put her hand on Zoe’s arm. “Real home.”

  “Back to Arizona?”

  “No, no, to the bungalow. Our temporary home.”

  Zoe’s shoulders slumped. “They’re all temporary, Pasha.”

  “Precisely.” But if she were gone, Zoe could find permanence. “Please take me back so I can rest.”

  “He only wants to ask you some questions.” She leaned closer. “Pasha, he’s not a typical oncologist. I know what you’re worried about, but there’s no chemo, no radiation. He’s working with this brilliant doctor and this really extraordinary research facility and they’re doing all these exciting things like, oh, God, I can’t even pronounce the words but it’s a whole experimental way to treat canc—”

  Pasha slammed her hand on Zoe’s mouth. “Don’t.”

  Zoe jerked away, the fire blazing in her eyes for a whole different reason now. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “I’ve found a solution!”

  But Pasha had a better one.

  She shook her head and conjured up some fake gypsy tears. “Please take me home, little one. I promise I’ll come back tomorrow. Oh, no, tomorrow’s Sunday. So maybe Monday, then. One day won’t make a difference. And I will come back, Zoe. I enjoy that little boy very much.”

  Zoe dropped back into her chair with a sigh, shaking her head. “You can’t outrun cancer, Pasha.”

  Pasha swallowed—mercy, that hurt—and cast her gaze over Zoe’s shoulder.

  “Hey.” Zoe took Pasha’s chin and angled her face so they had to look at each other. “We’re a team, remember. I’ll be with you every step of the way on this.”

  But the fact was, she wouldn’t be. Not every step. Not this time. “ ’Kay.” She gave a quick smile and prayed that Zoe couldn’t tell she was lying.

  Pasha was sound asleep by ten, leaving Zoe restless and bored and on the hunt for company. After a quick check on her aunt, Zoe slipped out into the moonlight, grateful to see a light on in the bungalow next door. But Tessa didn’t answer Zoe’s soft tap at the front door. She must have fallen asleep, and Zoe didn’t have the heart to wake her so she headed back, considering a walk to Lacey’s house. Surely she was up, with a newborn.

  As she crossed the grassy area that separated each cottage, a soft sound from the gardens rustled through the air.

  An animal? They were out here. Opossum, giant crane birds, and don’t try to tell her a gator couldn’t come from the canals on the east side of the island looking for a midnight snack.

  With a quick shiver Zoe took a few quick steps, abandoning the idea of a walk through the gardens, however tempting a late-night girl talk might be. She took a few more steps, then heard the sound again.

  That wasn’t an animal. It was a person. A person…sniffing.

  Zoe headed into the shadows of the garden, her gut telling her exactly who was out here.

  She found Tessa in between two rows of leafy greens, her arms wrapped around her legs, her face buried in her knees, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

  “Hey,” Zoe said softly, not so loud that it scared the crap out of Tessa, but loud enough to beat out the sobs. “And here I thought I needed a little girl talk.”

  Tessa lifted her head, the moon bright enough to reveal her red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t want to talk,” she said, the lie so pathetic Zoe almost laughed.

  “Oh, I see you’re out here weeding.” She dropped into the soft dirt, praying that no nocturnal critters were out and about.

  Tessa sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I said I don’t need to talk.”

  “You said you don’t want to talk. Needing and wanting are two different things.” She lifted a leaf and examined the exposed vegetable. “Surely I’m better company than the…” She knew this; Tessa had told her. “Flying Chinese peas.”

  That got a smile. “Asian winged beans.”

  “Close enough. They look like caterpillars run over by a steamroller.” She dropped the plant and eyed her friend. “Looks like something flattened you, too.”

  “Billy,” she said softly. “That’s the steamroller who flattened me.”

  “Oh, the fuckwad ex-husband. Don’t tell me, baby number two was born and Billy the Bonehead just had to text you from the delivery room.”

  “How did you know?” Tessa croaked in disbelief.

  “Oh, Tess. Really? Why would he do that?”

  She nodded and swiped her nose. “The baby was five weeks early, and in his defense—not that there is one—he knows how I feel about everything not being out in the open. So he thought I should know right away and not hear it from one of our mutual friends.”

  “He’s too thoughtful,” Zoe said wryly. “I hate him.”

  “Zoe, you said you loved Billy when I married him.”

  “Hello? Wedding champagne. Anyway, have we not established that my taste in men is not the most reliable yardstick, hon?”

  “Oliver’s nice,” Tessa said.

  “Let’s not talk about Oliver. I’d rather crucify Billy for a while. Did he marry that baby machine yet?”

  “No, they’re living together still, up to the eyeballs in diapers.”

  “Which means they’re up to their eyeballs in diapers full of…oh my God that green stuff that Elijah makes. Have you seen that goop?”

  Tessa sighed. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not. It looks like organic creamed spinach to you.” But Tessa didn’t laugh, so Zoe leaned closer. “Why don’t you adopt?”

  Tessa leaned back on a sigh. “We looked into adoption years ago and it’s not as easy as you’d think unless you have a super-stable life. I’m a single woman who spent most of the last ten years moving from country to country, farming. By the time I got through the legal wrangling and qualified, I could be forty.”

  “So?”

  “I want a baby now, that’s all.” She plucked a leaf. “There are other options for me to be a real mother.”

  “A real mother?” Zoe couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice. “What the hell
does that mean, anyway? You think Pasha wasn’t a real mother to me?”

  “No, Zoe, that’s not what I’m saying at all, and I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words. But she’s your great-aunt, so there’s blood there.”

  Zoe didn’t answer, as a swell of guilt and discomfort rolled over her.

  He knows how I feel about everything not being out in the open.

  Lord, even Tessa’s horrible ex was more forthcoming, out of respect for what was important to Tessa. Quiet, Zoe stuck her fingers in the soft soil and sifted it. She really should tell her best friends, but now she’d lied to them for so long she wouldn’t know where to start.

  “Do you even remember your mother, Zoe?” Tessa asked quietly.

  Start right there.

  No, she couldn’t. The lies were so ingrained, so imprinted on her heart, that after a few dozen times of reciting them, they became truths.

  My parents died in a car accident when I was ten. Aunt Pasha was my only relative. She raised me. We move a lot because there’s gypsy blood in the Tamarin line.

  “Barely,” Zoe said, instead of lying by rote. “Pasha’s my mother, for all intents and purposes. And you could be that person to another child who doesn’t have parents. What you need is to get a kid that’s been housebroken.”

  “Like a foster child?” Tessa asked. “I don’t know if I could stand to give it away.”

  Zoe couldn’t even respond to that. She turned away, certain that even in the moonlight Tessa could read her expression.

  Could the door be open any wider?

  The truth would feel so good. To sit here in the moonlight and share histories and secrets. Just to let the pressure of a lifetime of lies lift from her heart would be so liberating. Sure, Tessa would be mad as hell, but they’d be closer and more trusting, wouldn’t they? It would be a breakthrough moment, and they’d tell Jocelyn and Lacey, and surely they’d all rally round Zoe. They’d finally understand what made her tick, forgiving her deceptions, and be all Fearsome Foursome, go team go. Right?

  Or would they hate her for hiding the truth for all these years?

  And if she told the truth, even whispered it right here in the moonlit garden to a woman whose perspective could change if she knew Zoe’s history, would Zoe be breaking a promise to someone who’d been so much more than a friend?