Shooting the Moon

by Brenda Novak

  “If you trust him with Brandon, I trust him with Scott.” She got up and walked over to Harley to introduce herself, then gave Lauren’s shoulder a reassuring pat as she passed her on the way back into the house. “Now I’ll let you and Brandon have some time alone,” she said.

  “Scott’s mother is nice, isn’t she?” Brandon said when Elizabeth had closed the door.

  “She is,” Lauren agreed.

  “So, are you coming home tonight?”

  Lauren took his hand and pulled him down onto the step next to her. “Brandon—”

  “Don’t say my name all serious like that,” he said, his eyes widening. “It scares me.”

  “Just listen, honey. I won’t be able to come home tonight. I’m not going to be living with Grandma and Grandpa anymore. As you know, we’ve had a disagreement. I think you should be allowed to see your father, and they think he’s a bad influence.”

  “But he’s not! You’ve seen how great he is.”

  “Yes, but I can’t convince them to trust either of us on that. So what I really need to know is what you want to do. Would you like to live with your father in California?”

  “What about you?” he asked, his face clouding with worry.

  “I’d move to California, too. I’d rent a house or apartment and find a job, and I’d see you as often as possible. Your father’s already agreed to let that happen.”

  “So I’d be leaving Grandma and Grandpa?” he said soberly, crossing his arms and supporting them on his knees.

  “And Scott,” Lauren pointed out. “Which wouldn’t be easy. But he could come visit you. And you could visit him.”

  “A lot?”

  “I don’t think your father has much money to spare, and I won’t have a lot, either, especially at first. But we’d fly you back as often as we could afford to, as long as you didn’t miss school.”

  “Could I see Grandpa and Grandma when I visit Scott?”

  Lauren stretched her leg out in front of her to ease the throbbing of her ankle. “Of course.”

  “Then I want to live with you guys in California.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Who else would play Hearts with me?” he asked with a smile. “We can’t quit playing till I shoot the moon. At least once.”

  Lauren returned his smile. “We’ll keep playing long after that,” she said. “But you need to be patient. What Harley and I are trying to do might take some time.”

  The corners of Brandon’s lips turned down almost immediately. “How much time?”

  “I can’t say right now. We’ll just have to do our best. But we’ll stay in touch with you through Scott and his mother, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. Then Harley pulled up and Brandon helped Lauren take Scott’s place behind him.

  “I love you,” she told him.

  “I love you, too. I love you both,” he said and waved goodbye as they taxied out of Hillside Estates.

  “He said he loves me,” Harley yelled, and though Lauren couldn’t see his face, she could sense his pleasure.

  “He wants to go to California with us,” she told him.

  “You’re coming for sure?” Harley asked, pausing at the gate.

  “That’s right. We’re all going to California,” she said and tightened her grip around his middle, wanting to hug him but stopping just short in case he took exception to it.

  Then Harley gave the bike some gas and they rocketed down the highway, where the rush of the wind and the roar of the engine took her to that world where only she and Harley existed, and she laughed—out loud.

  KIMBERLY WAS AT the apartment with Tank when Harley returned that evening. He’d helped Lauren up to her room at the hotel over an hour earlier, but he hadn’t stayed. He’d left as soon as possible and had been driving around the city ever since, thinking. So much had happened in the past few days. Most of it was so far removed from anything he’d ever thought would happen that he wasn’t sure how to respond.

  Brandon’s love and wholehearted acceptance had surprised him. But that was the good part, the part that inspired faith and hope in the future. It was Lauren who confused him. She’d gotten on his bike and wrapped her arms around him. She’d smiled up at him and told him she wanted him to have custody of Brandon. She’d stood beside him despite her father.

  What did it all mean? He’d never dared hope for such things. Didn’t know whether to trust them. Audra had professed to love him so many times, had even promised to run away with him on two separate occasions, but when it came right down to it, she hadn’t had the strength to remain true to her word. Which meant she hadn’t loved him, at least not enough. And as much as he told himself Lauren was a different person, he couldn’t help wondering if she’d change her mind about him eventually. She was still a Worthington. He couldn’t expect her to turn her back on her family forever. Quentin would win in the end, and Harley didn’t want to be around when he did.

  “Hey, where’ve you been?” Tank asked, muting the television as Harley stepped into the room. “Your mother’s been calling. She says you’re not answering your cell.”

  “When I’m on my bike, I can’t hear it ring.”

  “Well, you might want to give her a call. She seems pretty anxious to get hold of you.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Sounding disappointed, Kimberly answered him from where she was snuggled up beneath Tank’s right arm. “Unfortunately, we had to take her home already.”

  “How was the lake?” Harley asked.

  Tank and Kimberly glanced at each other and smiled. “Great.”

  Harley was glad life was simple for some people. He headed down the hall to his bedroom, eager for privacy and…he didn’t know what. He was frustrated and irritated and couldn’t quit thinking of Lauren in that hotel room all alone.

  He had to leave, get out of Dodge quick, he decided. He and Lauren were in agreement about Brandon and they had a plan. He should go home, straighten out the dealership and get ready for Brandon—and Lauren, if she really followed through—to join him in California. There wasn’t any reason to stay, except for the fact that he was starting to believe in Lauren, to trust her…God, to love her!

  With a snort of disgust, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his mother.

  “I’m coming home tonight,” he said.

  “What about the court hearing? I thought you were going to stay until after the court hearing.”

  “I’ll fly back for it.”

  “What about Brandon?”

  “Quentin’s home.”

  “Oh, so you’re not allowed to see him anymore. Now I get it.”

  Actually, she didn’t get it at all. Harley wasn’t going home because he couldn’t see Brandon. He knew Lauren could arrange a visit or two this week. He was leaving because she was making him forget everything he’d sworn to remember about the Worthingtons—like what had happened the last time he’d let himself fall in love.

  “It’s such a long drive,” his mother said. “Why not wait until morning?”

  Because by then it might be too late.

  LAUREN ATE ANOTHER of the chocolates she’d bought at the hotel gift store and flipped through the Pay Per View menu again, looking for yet another movie to distract her. Harley had dropped her off nearly four hours earlier. She’d watched two movies and eaten almost a pound of chocolate since then, but she couldn’t get him off her mind. Why hadn’t he wanted to stay with her? She’d swallowed her fear of being rejected a second time and suggested they rent a movie together. But he’d politely declined and hurried off.

  Lauren blinked back the rush of tears that filled her eyes—again—and ate another caramel. She couldn’t blame Harley, could she? Of course he wouldn’t want a twenty-seven-year-old woman who’d spent her whole life trying to please the father she’d just alienated.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother fighting them. So what if she cried? So what if her nose got al
l red and her face splotchy? There wasn’t anyone to notice. Even Kimberly wasn’t coming over tonight.

  Lauren nibbled on another chocolate, decided she didn’t like the nougat filling and put it back in favor of a vanilla crème. Kimberly wasn’t coming because Lauren had told her she was doing fine, that there wasn’t any need. She’d insisted Kimberly go ahead and enjoy her evening with Tank. But they were best friends. Kimberly should’ve known she was lying.

  Or maybe not. She finished the vanilla crème and shoved the box away before she made herself sick. She’d been pretty convincing on the phone. Kim had sounded so happy, Lauren hadn’t wanted to pull her away. It was Harley who’d let her down.

  She shut off the television and glanced around the room, wondering what to do now. Her ankle still hurt so she didn’t want to go out—it was pretty late, anyway—but she wasn’t ready for bed. She’d slept most of the day.

  Then she remembered Audra’s journals. They’d been under her bed when she packed, and she’d brought them with her because she hadn’t read all of them and was afraid her father might throw them away if she left them behind.

  Getting up, she opened her largest suitcase, dug through the clothing, shoes, photographs and other things she’d brought, and came up with the whole stack. She piled them on her bed, then settled against the headboard and opened the volume she’d been reading last.

  November 16, 1992

  My baby was born four days ago—a boy weighing 7 lbs. 8 oz. What an awesome experience. I thought the pain would overshadow everything else, but once I held my baby in my arms and saw his little red face and touched the peach-fuzz on his head, I knew the whole pregnancy was worth it. Even without Harley. I’m going to name him Brandon Matthew Worthington. Dad thinks I got “Matthew” from one of those “Name Your Baby” books. But I think Lauren knows it’s Harley’s real name. Anyway, she hasn’t said anything about it, and I’m glad. The name suits Harley’s son.

  January 3, 1992

  Raising a baby isn’t easy. Brandon wakes up so many times during the night. If I’m anywhere near him, I can’t sleep for more than a couple of hours. Fortunately, Lauren takes him into her room a lot and gives him a bottle when he wakes up. Mom and Dad don’t like him getting formula while I’m nursing, but I need the break. Somehow Lauren seems to understand. I should probably tell her I don’t know what I’d do without her. But we don’t talk like that.

  March 1, 1992

  Brandon is still waking up in the night, but I’m not nursing anymore. Lauren gets up with him almost all the time now. I don’t know how she does it and goes to school, too. But I can’t seem to manage any more than what I’m doing. I can’t seem to keep anything together.

  March 15, 1992

  I met someone who reminds me of Harley. He’s tall and handsome and rides a motorcycle. Only he’s not as self-righteous as Harley about getting high once in a while. He gave me something that dulled the pain and let me float away. When I’m floating I don’t hear Brandon crying, and I don’t care that I’m letting Lauren do the things I should be doing.

  Lauren wasn’t sure the journals were helping her frame of mind. She’d done everything she could to share the burden of caring for Brandon, trying to help Audra cope with the demands of motherhood. But maybe she’d been wrong to step in. Maybe she’d actually stolen something from Audra, something she’d had no right to take….

  Closing the book, Lauren shook her head. She didn’t want to learn any more about her sister’s thoughts because of what they reflected about her. She’d loved Audra. She’d meant well.

  Gathering the journals, she tried to get up to pack them away. But one slipped out of her arms and fell to the floor, and when she bent to pick it up, she saw her name again. The entry was dated less than a year before Audra’s death—her sister’s last Christmas.

  December 25, 2000

  Dad and Mom gave me a new car for Christmas. At least it’s mine if I can stay clean, Dad said. Lauren gave me a pair of pearl earrings, and she gave Brandon exactly what he wanted. I don’t even know what it was. Some kind of Nintendo game or something. I can’t seem to get through the day, yet Lauren hears everything Brandon says and remembers. And she makes him happy. That’s the real gift, isn’t it? I could never thank her enough for loving my son and for being the mother to him I should have been. But then, she’s never been like me. She’s always been special.

  “Oh, Audra.” Burying her face in her hands, Lauren cried like she hadn’t cried since she was a child. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “How I wish things could have been different. But I’ll keep taking care of Brandon for you. I’ll keep trying to make him happy. I promise.” Then she thought about Harley, and the fight she had on her hands to ensure that Brandon could have a relationship with his father and knew, regardless of how Harley or her father felt about her, she’d stay the course.

  She’d do it for Audra.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  HE HAD TO BE an idiot. He’d already made the decision not to come, yet here he was, standing in the hall outside Lauren’s room less than eight hours after he’d dropped her off. Worse, it was the middle of the night. He’d driven nearly to Mount Shasta before turning around.

  Harley glanced up and down the long, empty corridor, trying to talk himself out of knocking. The thought of Brandon had brought him back to Portland. He’d promised his son he’d give him some warning before heading back to California, which he hadn’t done. But it was the thought of Lauren that had brought him here, to her hotel room at two o’clock in the morning.

  “She’s asleep,” he muttered, and began to retrace his steps. But his feet dragged as he neared the elevators, and he turned back. “What the hell. Life is a series of risks.”

  He rapped lightly on her door and waited. No answer. He knocked more loudly, and this time he heard her say, “Coming.” But her voice sounded muffled. She had been asleep. He shouldn’t have disturbed her. He was starting to feel pretty foolish for appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the night when he heard her again.

  “Who is it?”

  Silently cursing himself, he cleared his throat. “It’s me. Harley.”

  The click of a retracting dead bolt broke the silence, the door opened and he no longer felt foolish. He felt hopelessly in love.

  “Harley,” she breathed, but it wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And somehow that seemed to say it all because a moment later, she was in his arms, and he was kissing her as though he’d die if he couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I’m not,” she said.

  The door across the hall opened and a man with a Bart Simpson haircut peered out at them. Harley ignored the intrusion but swept Lauren into his arms and carried her inside, away from the man’s prying eyes, pausing only long enough to close the door with his foot.

  IT WAS MORNING. Reluctant to let the night end, Lauren snuggled closer to Harley, who was sleeping with his legs tucked up under her bottom and one arm curled possessively around her. She didn’t want to move for fear of waking him, but she had a cramp in her leg and she wanted to be able to see his face. Easing herself out of his arms, she turned—and found him staring at her.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  Lauren tried not to blush, but she felt warmth rise from her neck all the same. She knew he’d noticed when he chuckled and said, “You’re so innocent and vulnerable and sweet.”

  She waited, hoping he’d add that he loved her. He’d said it during the night. More than once. Each time he made love to her, in fact. But the first time had been the most meaningful. He’d whispered it when he’d entered her as slowly and gently as possible, and Lauren knew she’d go to her grave treasuring that moment, along with the ones that came just after, when they were fully joined. But she wanted to hear him say it again, wanted to see his face more clearly this time, wanted to be sure he loved her forever and not just for one night.

  “You were so…�
� She paused. Good sounded tacky, and gave what she was trying to communicate the wrong slant. She didn’t want to say “good,” but she wanted to let him know that she appreciated the consideration he’d given her. He’d been so careful of her ankle, so…“…perfect,” she finished.

  He grinned. “You weren’t bad yourself, for something of a novice,” he added teasingly. “How’d your ankle survive?”

  “It’s fine. It’s starting to get better, I think,” Lauren said, but she couldn’t help wondering if her heart was going to be hurting next.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  Lauren raised her brows in surprise. “Nothing, really. Why?”

  “I thought I saw a flicker of a frown cross your face.”

  She shook her head. “No frown.”

  “Good, because I like your smile. It’s a seductress’s smile, and you don’t even know it.”

  Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the lips. His hands trailed up her bare back and he pulled her tightly against him, and she felt her breath shorten as he deepened the kiss and—

  Her cell phone rang. She wanted to ignore it, but she was afraid it was Brandon or Kimberly. If it was Brandon, she wanted to be available to him. If it was Kimberly, she had to answer or her best friend would probably stop over. Which was worse than being interrupted by a quick phone call.

  “Hold that thought,” she said and reached over to the nightstand to retrieve her phone. The light in the room was too dim to read the caller ID, so she simply pushed the talk button.

  “Hello?”

  “There you are. Don’t you ever check your messages anymore? I’ve left you at least five.”

  Damien. “This is a frown,” she muttered to Harley, covering the phone as she demonstrated.

  “What did you say?” Damien asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied, drawing the sheet to her chest, “but I’m pretty busy right now. Is there something I can do for you?”