Moonglass

by Jessi Kirby

  A wave broke the stillness, and I shook the thoughts from my head before getting out. I looked up to the north end of the beach, where falling-down cottages dotted the hill and the bluff above. The sun hung low in the sky, spilling orange warmth onto them. CRYSTAL COVE BEACH COTTAGES: ISLANDS IN TIME ON THE CALIFORNIA COAST. That’s what the sign over the little park store said. Again, I had a feeling maybe that’s what my dad was after in coming back here. To go back to an easier, happier time in his life. I could see the draw, the charm he saw in it. His history ran deeper here than I had ever cared to ask about. My mother’s, too, which was the problem. I’d done all my asking about her a long time ago, taken the simple answers, and packaged them up neatly in the back of my mind. And it would have been easy for them to stay that way had we not ended up here, on an island in time.

  I pushed the thought from my head and headed up the front steps, but stopped short when something on the doormat caught my eye. It was a small folded piece of paper, weighted down with a cobalt blue piece of sea glass. With my name scrawled on the front.

  I stared at it, running through the few possible people it could be from. But the sea glass narrowed it down to only one, and I felt guilty just thinking about her. After that first day of school, I never went back to Joy’s class. Getting switched to another English teacher was surprisingly easy once I told my counselor what was mostly the truth—that I couldn’t take Joy seriously as a teacher when she’d been such a close family friend. Since then I’d done the best I could to put her and all she knew about my mom out of my mind. I’d wanted to at least bring her book back, but each day I carried it in my backpack, I found another reason to avoid her hallway altogether.

  I set my bag down and knelt to pick up the glass and the note. Then I sat on the front step, placed the still-folded note in my lap, and examined the glass in the afternoon sun. It was the size of a small marble, time-smoothed and thick, and the color blue that could have been a vase, or a medicine bottle, or … a mermaid tear. I stared down at the note, and waited a breath before I opened it.

  Dear Anna,

  Found this on the beach today and I knew you would appreciate it. I want you to know, I understand your choice to leave my class. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want to talk about your mother with me. For that, I’m sorry. I knew a sparkling, artistic side of her and would love to share that with you one day. But I realize that sometimes our histories can feel too fragile to sift through. If you decide you’d like to, come find me. And please, keep the book. It was a source of inspiration for her.

  Maybe it can be for you, too.

  Fondly,

  Joy

  I sat still, aware only of the rhythmic crash and rush of the waves and the closing-in sensation all around me. I wanted to know about her, I did. I ached to. But I worried that Joy was wrong. That it wasn’t history that was too fragile, but me. I folded the note up tiny and shoved it down into my bag, along with the glass. Not tonight. Tonight I’d go out with Jillian, away from the cove, and I’d feel better.

  When I emerged from the steamy bathroom, our house all golden—warm with late afternoon sunlight—it seemed like forgetting about it all might actually work.

  Jillian wasn’t answering her phone, but I wasn’t in a big hurry. I had no idea what the dress code might be for the party, so I pulled on some comfy shorts and a tank top and plunked myself down in my green chair to wait for her to call back. Outside, the beach was deserted except for an elderly couple walking hand in hand along the waterline. They were both barefoot, with their pants rolled up to their calves, which struck me as unusual and especially sweet.

  My mind wandered to Tyler and his easy confidence. I’d actually most like to be going somewhere with him tonight, but that hadn’t panned out. Either he was completely oblivious or just not interested. Both possibilities ended with him being unattainable.

  And then there he was. Literally. Walking down the beach, carrying a bag and drink tray from the Beachcomber.

  I shot up, smoothed my hair, and sat back down, all in quick succession. A minute later, when his face appeared in one of the glass panes of our front door, I was sitting in my chair, casually flipping through the first book I’d grabbed. I was the picture of relaxation.

  He knocked, and I gave a little jump, then squinted at the door like I didn’t know who it could possibly be. When we made eye contact, I gave him a puzzled look, which was quickly replaced by a smile before I got up and walked over to the door as casually as I could. Then I opened the door and felt stupid. He was still in the same clothes I had left him in, and I was basically in my pj’s.

  Luckily, they were cute and little.

  I noticed him notice. “Hi.” His eyes moved quickly over me before he brought them back to my own.

  I smiled, my confidence bolstered by this small thing. “I thought you had a dinner date …”

  “Yeah, well. She stood me up. Conference call with her new business partner. So I had these burgers from up there.” He motioned to the Beachcomber. “You hungry?” I scanned the beach for any sign of my dad’s truck before answering, which must have caused a too-long pause.

  “You do eat … right?”

  “Yeah.” I brought my eyes back to his. “Sorry. You just surprised me.”

  He shrugged. “I could probably eat them both if you’re not interested. I was thinking I’d just sit all by myself down there on the sand and then take my flashlight and go check out some of the cottages all by myself too.”

  I rolled my eyes. “All right, enough. If you wanted to hang out with me that bad, you could have just asked. Lemme grab a blanket.” He raised an eyebrow. “To sit on,” I said flatly, though I was flattered by the implication, however tiny. I stepped back. “You can come in. I’ll just be a minute.” I grabbed my phone and sent Jill a quick text: “Guess I do have plans. See you Monday.”

  He scanned the beach just as I had a moment before, then stepped in and stood in front of the window. “So this is what you see every day. Must be nice.”

  I moved some pillows aside and opened one of the storage benches in the little alcove. “You saw it every day at work.” I pulled out a multicolored quilt, faded and worn thin after many a day spread out on the sand.

  “Yeah, I guess. But I wasn’t relaxing in my living room. I was at work. You get to live the life every day.” He turned slightly, so that he faced my mom’s cottage, then nodded at it. “I think we should try to get in there. That’s the only one I haven’t been in.”

  “No!” I said, with more force than I had meant to. “I mean, I just think it’d be too easy to get caught in there,” I covered. “Too many people walk up and peek in the windows. I watch them all the time. Plus, my dad drives by a couple times a night, and he’d notice a light in there, believe me. Let’s walk up to the north ones.”

  “All right,” he said as we walked out the door. “Let me just warn you, though—there’s a reason they’re condemned. Grab your shoes. And maybe a sweatshirt or something.”

  He stood aside for me, and I led the way down the stairs, which I was happy to do because the butterflies in my stomach felt like they must be obvious on my face. Now the night felt like possibility. So much so that I almost didn’t glance over at her cottage as we made our way onto the cooling sand.

  Neither one of us said anything as we spread the blanket out. I sat down, and Tyler did too, close enough so that I caught a hint of chlorine again. He pulled two paper-wrapped burgers and a box of fries out of the bag, then some napkins. He handed me one of the sodas from the tray, then held his cup up.

  “Cheers. To making it through your first week at Coast.” We each sipped from our straws, then he twisted his cup into the sand and leaned back on his elbows.

  “So, what do you think so far?”

  I cleared my throat and briefly imagined telling him that I had never found wild hair and the smell of swimming pools so attractive. “It’s not too bad, I guess.” I ran my fingers through the sand next to the b
lanket. “People are definitely different here from my last school.”

  He swallowed a mouthful of food and washed it down with a gulp of soda. “In a good way or a bad way?”

  I looked out at the ocean and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you when I decide.”

  He nodded. “I don’t doubt it. You don’t seem to be the type to hold back much.”

  I cocked my head a bit, surprised at this. He had no idea how much I could hold back.

  “Aw, come on.” He grinned. “It was obvious you wanted me from the moment you saw me.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s okay. It happens all the time. That’s why you walked over to the rocks, so I would have to talk to you.”

  I had to laugh. Partly because it was true. “Actually, my dad sent me down there to make sure you were doing your job and keeping people off the rocks. You didn’t get a very good report, sorry to say.”

  He shrugged again. “Last week of summer. What can I say?” There was a long pause, and we both looked out at the water. The large fog bank that had been sitting on the horizon was now creeping closer.

  Tyler nudged my shoulder. “So come on. What’s one thing that’s different here—in a good way?”

  I thought about it. “I guess that people aren’t exactly what I expected.” He motioned for me to go on. “Well, look at Ashley. She seems like kind of …”

  “Clueless?”

  “No. I was gonna say ‘prissy rich girl.’ But she’s actually really sweet and generous.” Tyler nodded like he’d give me the benefit of the doubt on that one. “And Jillian—the first day I met her, all I wanted to do was beat her at running because she seemed so smug about it. But I kind of like that about her now.” I paused for a sip of my soda. “And then you. Well. Jury’s still out on that.”

  He grinned. “Fair enough. Maybe a tour of the cottages will help you decide. Eat something. Then I’ll give you the grand tour. Your choice—pick a piece of history.”

  The sun melted into the mist all around us, and I shivered in the breeze that had carried it in. I wished I’d grabbed a sweater. Or that he’d just pull me in close to warm me up. We stood in front of a smattering of condemned cottages—all practically falling down, but each one unique. Behind the waist-high fence the state had put in, there was a boardwalk that now rolled and waved over sand and under the ice plant that had taken over. I wondered if the boardwalk had at one time spanned the length of the beach, but it didn’t seem likely.

  “Well?” Tyler faced the cottages. “Which one?”

  I swept my eyes over the worn wood of each cottage and settled on one a few steps away. In front of it, half-buried, lay a small blue rowboat that looked like it had sunk into the sand.

  “That one.” I pointed. “It looks like a postcard.”

  “It is, in the general store. The Carter Cottage. It’s also been painted a million times or so. Original choice.” He stared straight ahead at the Carter Cottage, and though I did too, I could feel him smiling.

  “Hey, you said it was my choice. That one looks the most …”

  “Friendly?” he finished.

  “Yeah. I dunno if it’s the fog or what, but they all look a little creepy right now.”

  He turned to face me and shrugged. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want. It’s mainly spiderwebs and mouse crap, anyway.” I scrunched my nose. “But in a few you can find stuff that the people left behind when they had to leave.”

  Automatically my eyes went way down the beach, to my mother’s cottage. “When did they leave again?” I asked casually.

  “The state gave them their first eviction notices back in the seventies, but they fought it until around fifteen years ago.” He kicked at the sand in front of him with his toes. “In these ones that haven’t been redone, there’s still a lot of their stuff. That’s what makes the cottages kind of creepy. This one’s that way. Has a story, too.”

  I was still looking down at the beach cottage. My mother’s cottage. The possibility of anything of hers still inside made me feel heavy and slow. I swallowed and forced myself to turn my eyes back to Tyler. When I did, he grinned and nudged me.

  “Still in? If you get scared … you know, feel free to just grab on to me, and I’ll fight off the cottage ghosts.” He puffed up his chest in exaggerated toughness.

  He meant it as a joke, but it took everything I had to offer a smile.

  I stepped over a low point in the fence. “All right then. The Carter Cottage.”

  In the dark the smell of damp wood was the first thing I noticed. That, and that the floor felt like it was gonna give. Both were unsettling.

  Tyler grabbed my elbow lightly. “Watch your step. There’s holes all over the place.” He flicked on the flashlight. “There.”

  My eyes followed the beam of light as it circled the small room. He had been right about a few things. Cobwebs hung heavily from the ceiling corners and window frames, the wood floor was dotted everywhere with tiny brown pellets, and everything was still there—a sagging couch facing the ocean, a coffee table, shadowed picture frames on the walls. I didn’t move.

  “It’s darker in here than I thought it would be,” I said, looking back toward the cracked door.

  “All the shutters are closed up. These things are pretty dark even in the daytime.” He stepped past me, avoiding a broken floorboard. “This one is small. Living room right here, kitchen, bathroom, and one tiny bedroom. I think it must have been where the kids slept, because there’s still a set of bunk beds in there. Wanna see?”

  I thought of every horror movie I’d ever watched. The ones with kids in them were always the creepiest. I tried to stall. “How do you all of a sudden know so much about these places? And why’d you play dumb about them at the bonfire?”

  He led me through a narrow doorway. “Rookie hazing. Remember? We have to go through all the ones on the north side. Except that when we do it, there are dumb-ass old guards hiding everywhere, jumping out at you like idiots. James actually put his foot through the floor back there last summer.”

  We went into the tiny bedroom, which held the bunk beds and not much else. Tyler shined the light on their red metal frame. “What was your other question?”

  I rolled my eyes in the dark. “Why you played dumb at the bonfire,” I answered with feigned annoyance. Despite the overtly creepy atmosphere, I was starting to enjoy myself.

  “Oh, that. If I’d told you all about it then, you wouldn’t have gotten curious and tried to rope me into a guided tour.” He put the flashlight under his chin and widened his eyes. “Guess it worked. I’m good.”

  “And modest.” I rolled my eyes again, this time sure that there was enough light for him to see me. Then I looked around the room, which was mostly empty, aside from the beds. In the corner was a tiny wooden picnic table. I pointed to it. “Shine the light over there for a second.” He did, and I stepped over another hole in the floor, then stood over the table.

  Tyler came up behind me and curved his arm around me to put the flashlight directly over the table. It took everything in me not to lean back into him.

  “I wasn’t gonna show you this, cuz I thought it might freak you out. It’s actually the best thing I’ve found in all the cottages. Kind of the saddest, too, though.”

  I stared at the tabletop below me. Underneath a clear layer, probably surfboard resin, black-and-white images of two kids, a boy and a girl, smiled up at us. The entire surface of the table was a collage of the two light-haired kids at different ages, all over the beach. In one I recognized the cottage in the background. The kids sat on the boardwalk in front of it, hanging their tan legs over the edge. In another they stood proudly in front of a little boat, with their dad, I assumed. He had the same light eyes and crinkly smile. I ran my hand over the smooth surface.

  “I can’t believe they didn’t take this when they left. It’s like their whole childhood down here.”

  “I know,” Tyler said.

  I leaned down and looked at
another image of the kids, who stood silhouetted side by side, looking out the living room window at the ocean. “They must have hated leaving here.”

  Tyler kept the light over the table. “Well, according to James, they didn’t really leave.”

  “What do you mean,” I asked tentatively.

  “I thought he was just messing with us when he told it, but he swears up and down that those two kids and their mom drowned under that little blue boat out there.”

  Chills went through me, and I stared at the picture of them in front of the boat. “Under it?” Something about this sounded vaguely familiar.

  “Yeah. In, like, three feet of water. On a sunny day with small surf.” My stomach went queasy. I knew this story. I’d heard my dad tell it to rookie guards during training, to keep them from being complacent. I’d had no idea it had happened here. Tyler went on. “The dad took them out, just to go paddle around. It was a calm day, but a big set wave came and flipped the boat.” I bit my lip, knowing what was coming, unable to take my eyes away from the smiling faces of the kids and their father. “The dad got thrown from the boat first.” Tyler paused and looked down at the pictures.

  I nodded, the scenario playing out in my head, now with faces to put to it. I knew from my dad’s story that the father had been thrown from the boat, and that while he’d struggled in the shore break, a second wave had pounded his wife and kids, and that, unfortunately, they’d clung to each other and the boat before it had flipped over. I could hear my dad’s voice as he told the story of the family trapped beneath their little boat in three feet of water. A freak accident on a placid day.

  I interrupted Tyler. “That was one of my dad’s first rescues. He was the first one to get to the boat, then the dad was there too, and he said they could hear the kids and the mom yelling from under it.” When my dad told the story to the rookie classes, he spoke about how the boat had landed in a depth of water, at such an angle, that it was literally suctioned to the sand. He told them about how the strength of all the people on the beach who rushed into the water to help wasn’t enough to loose it from the sand. How eventually, they’d had to wait for the tide to come up, and the inevitable. And he told them how they could never take the ocean for granted and how he would always be reminded of that fact by the memory of muffled voices from beneath that boat, on a sunny day, in water that barely covered his knees. There weren’t many things that could stun a group of cocky new guys into silence, but my dad’s voice when he told that story was one of them.