The Girl Who Chased the Moon: A Novel

by Sarah Addison Allen

“Hi” was her brilliant opening line. She couldn’t help it. Being this close to him flustered her.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Have you noticed there’s a conspiracy to keep us at least twenty feet away from each other at all times? Who would have thought being friends would be this hard?”

  He waved his hand forward, indicating they should walk. “I think that’s the difference between us,” he said, looking over his shoulder, distracted. “I knew how hard it would be going in.”

  “So you get the badge of courage?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m glad to finally spend some time with you.”

  Slightly mollified, she said, “I wish I could figure you out, “Win.”

  That made a side of his mouth lift into a smile. “If you only knew how refreshing it is to hear that.”

  “Oh, come on. You mean everyone has figured you out but me?”

  He shrugged, making the fabric of his shirt wrinkle at his shoulders. “Everyone in Mullaby, at least.”

  “Gee, as if I didn’t feel like such an oddball already.”

  “See, that’s exactly what I mean. You live in such a strange town, and yet you feel odd.”

  As they walked, their arms touched as they were jostled by the crowd. She liked the unintentional nature of it. Everything else about Win was so deliberate. “Well, I’m glad I could shake things up for you,” she said, which made him laugh.

  They’d only been walking for a few minutes before he stopped and led her to a short queue. “Let’s go on this ride,” he said suddenly.

  “Why this one?” she asked, following him. Being with him felt like a game sometimes, only she didn’t know the rules. Or who was winning.

  “Because it’s closest,” he said. “And my dad is nearby.”

  Emily looked back, trying to find Morgan Coffey, but she couldn’t see him. Win paid for their tickets and they crossed the deck to the Ferris wheel. They took the next available seat and the attendant placed the safety bar across them.

  Win put his arm over the back of the seat behind her and focused on the sky as the wheel slowly lifted them up. Emily, however, looked down at the crowd as it got smaller and smaller. She finally found his father. He was standing as still as stone, watching them with an expression made of ghosts and anger.

  “He’ll leave soon,” Win said, still looking up at the dusky sky. “He won’t want anyone knowing that it bothers him that we’re together.

  “You and your dad don’t get along, do you?”

  “We’re alike in many ways. But we don’t see eye to eye. For example, he’s very attached to doing things the way they’ve always been done. I don’t agree.”

  The Ferris wheel came to a stop two seats down from the top. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot this past week,” she said, and it came out a lot more moony that she intended.

  He lowered his gaze from the sky and met her eyes. His smile was mischievous. “Oh?”

  “Not like that,” she said, laughing. She stopped laughing when their seat swayed back and forth in the wind. She grabbed the safety bar in front of them. Of course he didn’t seem afraid to be up this high. “I just can’t get my mind around something.”

  “What is it?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be a werewolf, would you?”

  “Excuse me?” he said.

  She slowly loosened her hold on the bar and sat back.

  “There are only two reasons I can think of for why you don’t come out at night: night blindness or werewolf.”

  “And you decided to go with werewolf?”

  “It was a toss-up.”

  Win didn’t answer for a few moments. He finally said, “It’s tradition. It’s gone on for centuries.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a good question. I guess because that’s what traditions do.”

  “Is this another thing you and your father don’t see eye to eye on?”

  The wheel started moving again. “Yes. But going against this tradition is a big deal.” He turned to her. “Of all the things I’m going to tell you, you need to understand that the most.”

  She suddenly felt excited. “What things are you going to tell me?”

  “Strange and wondrous things,” he said in a dramatic voice, like he was narrating a book.

  “And why? Why are you doing this?”

  “I told you before, we have history.”

  “Technically, we don’t,” she pointed out. “Your uncle and my mother had history.”

  “History is a loop. We’re exactly where they stood twenty years ago. What’s theirs is ours, what’s ours will become theirs.”

  “You’ve thought about this a lot.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  The wheel made one more rotation before stopping again. This time they were at the very top of the ride. Their seat creaked as it swung precariously back and forth. Emily grabbed the bar again.

  Win smiled at her. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  “Of course not. Are you?”

  He looked out over the horizon. “I like seeing things from this perspective. I know what everything looks like from down there. I like seeing the possibilities of what’s beyond that. What’s beyond that loop I was talking about.”

  She didn’t realize she was staring at him until he turned to stare back. The air around them suddenly changed. She was so close she could smell him, a hint of cologne, and she could see the perspiration collected in the indentation at the base of his throat. His eyes went to her lips. Something warm and desperate filled her body. She’d never felt anything like it. It felt like the entire universe would cease to exist if something didn’t happen right then.

  But the moment passed and his chest rose and fell as if taking a very deep breath of air. He moved his arm from the back of the seat.

  After another rotation, the wheel stopped and the attendant unhooked the safety bar. They both got off the ride without a word and walked off the deck.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” he said.

  She was still feeling strange, sort of buzzed and prickly. “Okay.”

  But he didn’t leave. “My dad is around the corner, waiting,” he explained. “I want to spare you whatever it is he might say.”

  “Okay.”

  And still he didn’t go. “And it’s going to get dark soon.”

  “And you don’t want to grow fur and fangs in front of me,” she said. “I get it.”

  His dark hair was curling in the humidity. He ran his hands through it. “No, I don’t think you do.”

  “Then explain it to me. Tell me these strange and wondrous things.”

  That made him smile, like it was exactly what he wanted to hear, like he’d been planning this all along. “I will. Next time.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” she called, and he stopped. “I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  She decided to come right out and say it. “Do you blame me for what my mother did?”

  “Of course not,” he said immediately.

  “But your father does.”

  He hesitated. “I can’t speak for him.”

  “My grandfather told me that my mom got angry because the Coffeys wouldn’t let her into their social circle, and that’s why she did what she did.”

  “That’s how the story goes,” he said. His eyes bored into her with a sudden and intense curiosity.

  She pushed her hair behind her ears, and his eyes followed the movement. “I just want you to know that … I’m not mad.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That your family doesn’t like me. I understand why. And I’m not mad.”

  “Oh, Emily,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’re making this very hard.”

  “What? Leaving?”

  “That too. Next time?”

  She nodded. She liked that, the continuance, the anticipation. What would he do? What wo
uld he say? She was too enamored of him, too fascinated. But she couldn’t seem to help it. She wanted to fit in here, and he made her feel like she did.

  “Next time,” she said as he walked away.

  EMILY MET Julia by the bandstand as promised, and she could tell that both their moods had changed since they’d last been together. They bought Grandpa Vance a barbecue sandwich and a fried pickle, then headed home. Neither of them was particularly chatty.

  Julia said a distracted goodbye when they reached Grandpa Vance’s house. Emily watched her walk away. Something was definitely on her mind.

  When Emily walked into the house, she knocked on the wall beside the accordion door to Vance’s bedroom. “Grandpa Vance, I’m home.”

  When he opened the door, she caught her first glimpse of his bedroom, which had obviously once been the living room.

  The curtains were drawn over the windows to keep the heat out, but the light through the rust-colored material cast a glow of permanent sunset over the room. The room looked like it should smell stuffy, but there was actually a very faint scent of sweet perfume lingering in the air, as if a woman had left only moments before.

  There were rows upon rows of photographs on the shelves on the far wall, older photos of the same woman, a pretty woman with blond hair and Emily’s mother’s smile. That must be her grandmother Lily. Where were the photos of her mother, she wondered. Did he have any?

  She held up the foil-wrapped food. “I brought you some stuff from the festival.”

  “Wonderful! I think I’ll eat in the kitchen. Will you join me?” He led the way. As soon as they reached the kitchen, Vance went directly to the laundry room. Emily heard the dryer door open, then close. Then Vance walked back out. “So, how did you like our little barbecue shindig?”

  Emily smiled. “It wasn’t little at all.”

  “What did you and Julia do?” He went to the breakfast nook and sat, absently rubbing his knees as if they ached.

  “Wandered around. Ate too much. She bought me this T-shirt.” Emily walked over to him and placed the food on the table, then sat opposite him. She brought the T-shirt out of the small bag she’d been carrying.

  “Ha! That’s a good one,” Vance said as he read what was on the shirt. “Did you see any kids your age?”

  Emily hesitated before she said, “Just Win Coffey.”

  “Well, it is their festival,” he said as he unwrapped his food and began to eat. “You need to meet some other people your age. As I recall, my friend Lawrence Johnson has a grandson … in middle school, I think.”

  Confused, Emily said, “Do you think he’d want me to babysit?”

  “Yes, I guess that is a little young for you,” Vance said. “It’s only July. School doesn’t start until next month, and you’re going to get bored.” He suddenly looked worried. “That friend of your mother’s, Merry, said she would take care of getting you registered and your class credits transferred. Do you think I should check the school, just in case?”

  Emily had been so focused on what was going on here, she hadn’t given Merry much thought lately. That startled her. “Merry probably handled everything. She’s very detail-oriented, just like Mom.” Emily looked down to the T-shirt in her lap. “Mom helped found the school I went to. Did you know that?”

  He nodded. “Merry and I had a long talk. Your mother had a remarkable life. Merry told me a lot about you, too. She said you were involved in a lot of activities.”

  Emily shrugged. Her old life felt so bound and heavy now. “They were school requirements.”

  “I bet there are a lot of activities you can get involved in here. Lots of stuff you can do at night.”

  She knew what he was doing, being about as subtle as an eight-foot-tall man. He didn’t want her associating with Win. She understood why. At the same time, she wondered if she could change this, if the reason she came here, in the whole scheme of things, was to make this right. Like her mother said, Don’t wait for the world to change. She’d been thinking a lot lately about clues her mother might have given her over the years, either on purpose or unconsciously, about her time here, about lessons she’d learned. Who she’d become, Emily was beginning understand, was her penance. She’d hurt people when she was young. She’d saved them when she got older. But for all the good she’d done, she’d never thought it was enough. Her mother had never been satisfied.

  After Grandpa Vance ate, he got up and threw the food wrappers away. Then he went back to the laundry room to check the dryer.

  She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know. When he came back out, she slid out of her seat in the breakfast nook and asked, “Why do you do that? Check the dryer so often?”

  He laughed and gave her a sly look. “I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said. He walked to the refrigerator and took out two green bottles of 7UP. He handed one to Emily. “I was a little uptight when Lily and I first married. I’d lived alone for quite a while before she moved in. Without realizing I was doing it, I would follow her around when she would do housework, to make sure it was done the way I’d always done it. The thing that bothered Lily the most was my checking the dryer after her to see if she’d left any clothes behind.” He shook his head at the memory. “Because I’m so tall, I can’t see that low into the dryer, so I just reach down and feel. One day, after she’d walked out with a basket of laundry, I went in and stuck my hand in the dryer … and felt something cold and slimy. She’d set a frog from the backyard in the dryer for me to find! I jerked my hand out so fast that I fell down. Then out jumps the frog. I watched him hop from the room, past Lily’s shoes. She was standing in the doorway, laughing. Well, I learned my lesson. Over the years, she’d tell me to go check the dryer as a joke, and I’d always find a small gift from her.” Her twisted the top off his bottle and took a drink. “After she died, I just kept checking. I don’t know why. It’s not like I ever find anything. But it makes me think of her. And when I get worried or anxious about something, I go check, just in case she wants to tell me something.”

  “I think that’s sweet, Grandpa Vance,” Emily said. “I wish I’d known her.”

  “I do, too. She would have liked you.”

  They said good night at the staircase, and Vance went back into his room. Emily made it halfway up the staircase before she stopped. She hesitated, then walked back down and went to the laundry room.

  She studied the dryer for a moment, even going so far as to lean over it to see what was behind it. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand went to the handle and she quickly opened the door, jumping back as if something inside might fly out at her.

  She cautiously peered in. Nothing was there.

  She almost laughed at herself as she walked out. What had possessed her to do that?

  What sign was she looking for?

  HOURS LATER Emily slowly opened her eyes, not sure what had awakened her. She took a deep breath. When she exhaled, in her sleep-addled mind, the air came out as blue as smoke. She stared at the ceiling and it gradually came to her. Something was wrong. The room was normally brighter than this.

  When she’d gone to sleep, light from the moon was shining in through the open balcony doors, sending rays as pale as cream into the room. She turned her head on the pillow to see that the balcony doors she’d left open were now closed, and the curtains had been drawn over them.

  Her heart suddenly gave a single hard thud of surprise and her scalp tightened, which felt like every hair was on end. Someone had been in her room. She reached under her pillow and turned off her MP3 player, then she slowly sat up on her elbows.

  She knew it was him. His presence felt different, different from anyone she’d ever known. She could feel the lingering warmth of him still in the air.

  She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and got up and went quickly to the light switch. When she flicked it on, the chandelier bathed the room in cobwebby light.

  But no one was there.

  From across the room, she saw a pie
ce of paper peeking out from the curtains. The twin doors had been shut with a note tucked between them. She hurried over and pulled the note out.

  I’m sorry I had to leave the festival. I didn’t want to. Will you spend the day with me? Meet me on the boardwalk at Piney Woods Lake this morning.

  —Win.

  Emily immediately swung open the doors and stepped out on the balcony, looking around.

  “Win?”

  Nothing. The only sounds were the katydids and the papery rustling of leaves in the wind.

  Her heart was still thumping, heavy and fast, but not so much from fear now as an incredible sense of anticipation. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything like this. It had been months since she’d looked forward to anything—food, birthdays, weekends. He made her remember how it felt.

  The edge of her nightgown was fluttering against her legs, and the air around her was charged with energy. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to let go of this feeling.

  A few minutes later, she heard an engine turn over. The lights of Julia’s truck, parked at the curb in front of her house, suddenly sprang to life. Emily watched the truck pull away and drive down the street.

  She guessed she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t going to sleep that night.

  Chapter 12

  When Sawyer opened the door to his townhouse, he was irritated, as anyone would be if they were forced out of bed at dark-thirty by the incessant ringing of a doorbell. The neighborhood had better be on fire.

  The door flew open and hit the wall as he flicked on the porch light.

  Julia took her hand away from the doorbell, and the grating shriek inside his house immediately stopped.

  He blinked a few times. “Julia?” he asked, just to be sure.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Now?” He wasn’t at his best.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, now.”

  He took a good long look at her. She hadn’t changed clothes. She was wearing the same faded jeans and embroidered white peasant blouse she’d been wearing at the festival. He should have stayed there with her, but he’d been angry. She thought he only wanted a piece of her, that he would accept a fling. While he’d certainly had his share of flings, most of which he’d greatly enjoyed, he wanted to be nobler than that with Julia. And she wouldn’t let him. “Are you drunk?” he asked.