The Girl Who Chased the Moon

by Sarah Addison Allen

  “You’re Emily Benedict, aren’t you?” she asked, with the same combination of aversion and curiosity Win had had the first day she’d met him, but with a little more bite.

  “Yes,” Win said before Emily could. “Emily, this is my sister, Kylie.”

  “You weren’t invited,” Kylie said bluntly. “You’re going to ruin my party.”

  “I… I came with Ingrid,” Emily said, feeling a hot prickle of embarrassment.

  “You should leave.”

  Win finally took his eyes off Emily to give a look of censure to his sister. “Kylie, stop being rude.”

  “I’m not being rude. I’m serious. She should leave.” Kylie pointed over her shoulder. Win turned to see that the big man, the master of ceremonies, had left the grill and was slowly making his way toward them.

  Win cursed. “Let’s go.” He took Emily by the arm and together they skirted the party, following the tree line. When they reached the regular part of the beach, Win stopped once they were out of sight of the grotto.

  She rubbed her arm where he’d held it. The place where he’d touched her felt warm. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little taken aback at how fast that had happened. “I didn’t know it was a private party.”

  They faced each other on the crowded beach, hot summer noise humming around them. “It’s not.”

  It took a moment to sink in. It wasn’t a private party. That meant she wasn’t welcome. Just her. “Oh.”

  “Has your grandfather told you yet?” Win asked, seemingly out of the blue.

  “Told me what?”

  “About your mother and my uncle. That’s what that was all about.” He nudged his chin back toward the grotto.

  Confused as to why being kicked out of the party had anything to do with her mother and his uncle, she said, “Actually, I was hoping to run into you again so I could ask. You said next time I saw you you’d tell me.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I? ‘Next time’ seemed so far away.” Win hesitated before he said, “My uncle committed suicide when he was a teenager.”

  She wasn’t expecting that, and didn’t know how to respond. The best she could come up with was “I’m sorry.”

  “He did it because of your mother.”

  She felt a jolt of alarm. She suddenly thought of the initials on the tree. D.S. + L.C.

  Dulcie Shelby and Logan Coffey.

  “They were in love,” Win said, watching her closely. “Or, he was in love with her. His family didn’t want him to be with her, but he went against their wishes, against years of tradition. Then your mother turned around and broke his heart, like what he did, what he sacrificed, didn’t matter.”

  Emily was desperately trying to make sense of this. “Hold on. Are you saying you blame my mother for his death?”

  “Everyone blames her, Emily.”

  “What do you mean, everyone?” She could hear her voice rising.

  Win noticed, too. He adjusted the waistband of his swim trunks, then settled his hands on his lean hips. “I’m sorry. I should have thought how to say that in a nicer way. This is a little harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Than you thought what would be?” she demanded. “Convincing me that my mother was responsible for your uncle’s suicide? I have news for you, my mother was a wonderful person. She would never do anything if she thought it was going to hurt another person. Never.”

  Win suddenly looked over his shoulder, as if sensing something about to happen. “My dad is still looking for me. Come this way.” He took her hand and led her away from the water, toward the pine trees.

  Her bare feet kicked up sand as she jogged to keep up with him. “Where are we going?”

  “Out of sight,” he said, the moment she stepped onto the cool, pine-needle floor. The smell of rosin was strong. It reminded her of Christmas wreaths and red glass ornaments. It was a completely different world, a completely different season, than just a few steps away at the lake.

  “I don’t have shoes on,” she said, pulling him to a stop.

  He turned to her. “You seem to find yourself without shoes in the woods a lot.”

  She wasn’t amused. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.”

  “Help me do what?” She threw her hands in the air, frustrated.

  “Adjust.”

  She scoffed at him, because if adjusting to this place meant believing what he said about her mother, she was never going to adjust.

  Before she could turn to go back to the beach, he said, “Okay, here are the basics. Your mother was known to be spoiled and cruel. My uncle was gullible and shy. She used his feelings for her to trick him into revealing a long-held Coffey family secret to the entire town, just because she could. Then she turned her back on him. Devastated that he’d lost her and hurt his family, he killed himself. She left town without so much as an apology. I know it’s hard to hear. But this might go a long way in explaining why people here act… a certain way around you.”

  “Act what way?”

  His dark, arched brows rose. “You haven’t noticed yet?”

  Emily hesitated.

  “You have noticed.”

  She shook her head. She was angry at him for saying these things, but she was even angrier at herself for actually standing there and listening. “You didn’t know my mother. I knew my mother. She would never turn her back on anyone.”

  Win’s eyes went soft and sympathetic. It was clear he was sorry she was hurt by his words, but he didn’t look sorry that he’d said them in the first place. This was what he meant by the two of them having history?

  “Why should I trust you, anyway?” she challenged him. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

  He shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t. You probably shouldn’t have anything to do with me. I’m surprised your grandfather hasn’t told you to stay away from me already. He will soon, though. Mark my words.”

  The wind picked up for a moment, brushing the treetops. A cascade of pine needles, both green and brown, suddenly fell down around them. Emily watched Win through the swarming needles, a peculiar enchantment coming over her. Who was this strange boy? What did he want from her?

  “What secret did your uncle reveal?” she found herself asking.

  He took a long time to answer, as if warring with himself. His lips finally lifted into a cynical smile, breaking the spell. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  He gladly shared some secrets, yet he wouldn’t reveal his own. She should have no trouble casting aside anything someone so disingenuous would say. But still it lingered in her mind. And that made her furious.

  She turned stiffly and walked back to the lake. Back to summer.

  She made her way across the beach to where Julia was sitting cross-legged on her towel, reading a book. Sawyer was stretched out at her feet like a large marmalade cat.

  Julia looked up when Emily’s shadow fell over her. “Emily? What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her book aside.

  “Nothing. I’d like to go home, if that’s okay.” She suddenly, desperately, wanted to talk to her grandfather. He was her one true connection to her mother. He would tell her that what Win said was a lie.

  Sawyer sat up. He took off his sunglasses. “You look upset,” he said.

  “I’m fine.” She tacked on a smile for good measure.

  “My sister was rude to her. I apologize.” Win’s voice behind her made her turn. She wasn’t aware that he’d been following her. He met her eyes, his expression troubled.

  Sawyer stood. For someone so beautiful, he could certainly be imposing when he got angry. He was as tall as Win, but much bigger. “What did she say that upset Emily?”

  Before Win could answer, Julia said, “That was your party?”

  “My sister’s birthday party.”

  “Jesus,” she said, grabbing her bag and quickly stuffing it with their towels, her book, and her water bottle. She stood. “I didn’t kn
ow. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

  “I can take her,” Win said. “It’s on my way, and I need to be home before sunset anyway.” He held out his hand and, without thinking, Emily took it. She immediately came to her senses and tried to take it back, but he held firm. His hand was warm and dry, like he’d just taken off a glove.

  “I’m taking her home,” Julia said.

  “It would be no trouble.”

  Sawyer took a step forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Win.”

  Win stared at Emily for a moment before saying, “That does seem to be the consensus.” He finally let go of her hand. She missed the contact. It was crazy.

  Julia put her arm around her and led her away. “Come on.”

  “Do you need me to go with you?” Sawyer called after them.

  “No.” Julia paused, looking back at him. Then she added, “But thanks.”

  Julia and Emily walked across the beach and to the parking lot in silence. When they climbed into the truck, the black seats hot from the sun, Julia immediately put the key in the ignition. As much as Emily didn’t want to believe it, Julia’s reaction was giving some credence to what Win had told her.

  “Win said his uncle committed suicide because of my mother,” Emily blurted out.

  Julia started the engine. She obviously didn’t want to comment.

  “That’s not true, is it?”

  “Whether it’s true or not, he shouldn’t have told you,” Julia said, turning to her and touching her arm.

  Emily almost came undone. She liked the maternal way Julia treated her, but it was just too much right now. “He said she was cruel,” she said, taking her hand away.

  That made Julia wince a little. “This is something your grandfather has to tell you. Not me. And certainly not Win.” Julia stared at her a moment, her sympathy, her genuine desire to make things all better, clear in her every pore. “It took me a long time to realize this: We get to choose what defines us. It doesn’t make a lot of sense right now, but it will. Okay?”

  Emily reluctantly nodded.

  “All right, then.” Julia put the truck in reverse. “I’ll take you home to talk to your grandfather.”

  Chapter 8

  Good, you’re home,” Grandpa Vance said as he ducked out of his room as soon as Emily came in the front door. She was surprised he’d come out on his own. She’d been prepared to smoke him out. “I was thinking, you need a car so you can go out to the lake whenever you want to, instead of being cooped up here. I happen to have one, you know. A car, I mean.”

  “Grandpa Vance-”

  “I don’t actually drive it. I’ve never been able to drive. Not with these legs. But your grandmother had a car. Come, I’ll show you.”

  What was this all about? Just last night they were eating barbecue in silence. He led her through the kitchen, where he had to turn sideways because his shoulders were broader than the width of the doorway to the porch. She followed him out and around the side of the house. There was an old garage there that looked like it hadn’t been used, or even opened, in ages. The driveway from the street no longer existed, so the garage stood in the grassy side yard like an island that had lost its mainland bridge.

  When Vance pulled the garage door up, dust motes sparkled in the sunlight, but they couldn’t see very far inside. He reached around and felt for the light switch. The fluorescent light popped on reluctantly, buzzing and flickering and complaining until it finally decided to shine properly on the car.

  “It’s a 1978 Oldsmobile Cutlass,” he said. “Under all that dust, it’s actually brown. If you wouldn’t mind driving something this old, I’ll have someone look it over.”

  Emily stared at it. “Did my mom used to drive this?”

  “No. When she turned sixteen, she wanted a convertible, so I bought her one.” He paused. “If you want something different, I can arrange that.”

  “No,” she said immediately. “I think I like this one. It looks like a muscle car.”

  “A muscle car, huh? Lily would have liked that.”

  She turned to him. “Who is Lily?”

  Vance looked shocked. “Lily was my wife, child,” he said. “Did your mother never talk about her?”

  “She didn’t tell me anything.” Emily tucked her hair behind her ears. Talk to him. “Grandpa Vance, today at the lake, there was this party. It turned out to be a party thrown by the Coffeys, and I was asked to leave.”

  If indignation were something you could see, it would look exactly like an eight-foot man pulling himself to his full height. “You were asked to leave?”

  “Well, not in so many words,” she said, still embarrassed by it. “But it was clear enough that the Coffeys don’t like me. Well, except for Win. I think. Actually, I’m not really sure about him.”

  “That was the one thing I asked you to do, Emily!” he said. “To stay away from them.”

  Win was right. He said Grandpa Vance would soon tell her that. “You asked me to stay away from the Mullaby lights, not to stay away from the Coffeys. I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.”

  Vance took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’re right. None of this is your fault.” He looked at the car for a long moment before turning off the light. “I had hoped, with all the time that had passed, these old wounds had healed.”

  “Is this because of my mom?” she asked hesitantly. “Win told me some pretty unbelievable things today. He said she was cruel. But that can’t be true. Mom was a wonderful person. Wasn’t she a wonderful person? I know you don’t want to talk about her. But please, just tell me that.”

  “Dulcie was a handful when she was a young girl,” he said as he pulled the garage door down. “She was so stubborn and high-spirited. She could actually sting people with her energy. But she was also bright and happy and curious. She got that from Lily. Dulcie was twelve when Lily died.” He looked away and rubbed his eyes with an embarrassed flick of his hand. “I didn’t know how to handle her on my own. The only thing I could think to do was give her everything she asked for. She tested me at first, asking me for outrageous things, just to see how far I would go. But I never said no. So she got the best of everything. As she got older, she began to take great pleasure in teasing people who didn’t have as much as she did. She could be very cruel sometimes. Julia was a frequent target.”

  Emily felt like she’d been walking upstairs and had suddenly missed a step. “My mom was cruel to Julia?”

  He nodded slowly. “And others,” he added reluctantly.

  Emily could feel herself resisting this, wanting to push it away. This couldn’t be her mother he was talking about. Her mother had been a good person, a selfless person. She’d wanted to save the world.

  “She was the queen bee of her social circle, and her word was law. She had an incredible power over them. Who she accepted, they accepted. Who she shunned, they shunned,” he said. “So when she took this shy, troubled boy named Logan Coffey under her wing and told everyone to accept him, they did.”

  “Win said he committed suicide.”

  “Yes.”

  Emily paused, wondering if she really wanted to ask what she was about to ask. “Did my mom have something to do with it?”

  She waited, holding her breath, until he finally answered. “Yes.”

  “What did she do?” she whispered.

  Vance seemed to struggle with what to say. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then said, “What did Win tell you?”

  “He said Logan loved my mom, but his family didn’t approve of her. He said Logan broke tradition to be with her, but all my mom wanted was to trick him into revealing a Coffey family secret.”

  Vance sighed. “The Coffeys are much more social these days, but you have to understand, back then they were very exclusive. Status was important to Dulcie. It started with me, giving her everything she wanted. It all got wrapped up in her grief over losing her mother. If only she had more, then she’d be happy. When the Coffeys wouldn’t
let her into their social circle, when they frowned on her relationship with Logan, it made her angry. Not just angry. Livid. She had a hard time with her temper after Lily died. She lashed out a lot. The Coffeys had, and still have, one particular quirk: They never come out at night. Never. But Logan came out at night for Dulcie. She assembled most of the town in front of the bandstand in the park one night, saying she was going to perform for them. She had a lovely singing voice. Instead, she led Logan onstage.”

  She waited for more. There had to be more. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “He committed suicide because she made him come out at night? That’s the big secret? That’s ridiculous. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Tradition has always been important to the Coffeys,” Vance said. “And Logan was a very sensitive, very troubled young man. His suicide almost drove the Coffeys away. If they’d left and taken their money with them, Mullaby would have been ruined. That was the last straw. No one wanted anything to do with Dulcie after that, after what she had cost the Coffey family, after what she had almost cost the town. She finally did something no one would forgive her for, something I couldn’t buy her way out of.”

  Emily was several feet away before she realized she was backing away from him.

  “I haven’t spoken of it in twenty years,” Vance said. “And I was going to keep it from you, because you were better off not knowing. The Coffeys obviously thought differently. I’m sorry.”

  Emily continued to back away. Vance simply watched her go, as if leaving him was what he expected, what he was used to. Without another word, Emily turned and walked back into the house.

  When she reached her room, she just stood there, not knowing what to do. Coming here had been a mistake. A huge mistake. She should have known her mother had a good reason for keeping this place from Emily. This place wasn’t right. There was something distinctly off about it. She’d felt it all along. People here committed suicide just for breaking tradition. For coming out at night. And this person everyone remembered as Dulcie Shelby wasn’t her mother at all.