All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Copyright © 2019 by Amber Crawley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First paperback edition February 2019
Cover Art by Ann Harmer for @anchoafabrics
Cover Design by Amber Crawley
@ambercrawleywrites
www.makershaven.com
m n
For the women who shaped me.
o p
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Acknowledgements
One
n
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass watching as the sunset painted the moving scenery a masterpiece of color. I wished I had art supplies of my own so I could capture the beauty of my first night of freedom. I scribbled the hope of an artistic future onto my wishlist for life.
1. Find a place to call home.
2. Paint my life.
I still had an hour left of bus stops before I reached the small seaside town of Port Swan, NC. I looked down at the ripped pink envelope with my list written on the back, splattered in an array of lifelike butterfly stickers and bubbled cursive writing that read, Vanessa.
I touched the paper cut on my cheek that matched the rip in the envelope. It had only bled a little but stung like a dozen bee stings when my foster mother, Frances, sliced it across my cheek. She said dirty children didn’t deserve mail, but I wasn’t a child and I was only dirty because I’d spent the day delivering cheeseburgers to ungrateful customers.
I stared at her for a few seconds, watching as she poured more liquor into her orange juice. My nails dug into my palms as I thought of her bloodshot eyes reading the only piece of mail I’d ever received. She pulled at the corner of the envelope, ripping one of the butterflies straight down its center. Without a second thought, I swung. Cursing, she stumbled backwards and spilled her drink down the front of her shirt. Before she could come at me, I yanked the envelope from her wrinkled hand and ran, thankful that my fully packed backpack was permanently attached.
Frances screamed my name attached to foul threats of calling the police as she hung out of her front door. I started the two mile route to the bus station that my feet had memorized and didn’t stop until I was locked in one of the two bathrooms stalls inside of the station. I paced across the two foot space shaking the jitters out of my hands as I tossed the pink envelope back and forth wondering if it could be from her. I squeezed my lips together as I pulled the letter out of the envelope. My feet stopped moving, frozen in place as I started to read.
Dear Vanessa,
Eighteen years ago, on a indian summer night, I held you in my arms for the first time. I was eighteen and scared. I had just been on the adventure of a lifetime, and selfishly, I wasn’t ready for that adventure to end - no matter how much I loved you.
When you were five, I found my way back to you. I was shocked that you hadn’t been adopted - which was something I was told was a sure thing. So, I brought you home to Port Swan. Do you remember?
We moved into my childhood home, just me and you, where we spent two full weeks together. We picked grapes and swam in the dark blue water of the sound. I read you books and sang you songs. I was your mom, and you were my daughter. It was the best thirteen days of my life.
I’d been living on the vague memory I had of my mother, of her voice promising to come back for me. I fell asleep at night to memories that turned into dreams of our short time together. I remembered her dark hair flying in the wind and her hand holding mine as we ran through grape vines that grew near the water.
I swallowed hard, forcing the inevitable tears back down.
On the fourteenth day, I had to take you back, for reasons I can’t explain. I don’t have the words to say how sorry I am. I would give anything to go back and change things. Trust me when I say, I’ve tried. I’m not sure what you think of me, but I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not good. I can promise you this, I will never lie to you.
I haven’t been able to change our history thus far, so now I’m going to attempt changing your fate the only way I know how. Please know that I had every intention of keeping this secret from you, but I feel that this is the only way. What you’re about to read is not something you should take lightly, and as you read it, remember my promise. I will never lie to you.
On the next full moon, which is on September 14th, you need to be in Port Swan, NC. You need to walk down the Swan Pier to the 600 foot mark. I have carved a butterfly into the wood at that exact spot, so it shouldn’t be hard to find. When the clock tower chimes midnight, you need to jump off the pier and into the water.
I’m not sure how you’re feeling after reading that, but I’m guessing it’s the same way I felt when I first heard it. You think I’m a liar. You think I’m insane. You think I just asked you to kill yourself. I didn’t. I’m not. I will never lie to you.
It was already September 14th and I had less than three hours until the clock would chime midnight. Fury ran through my blood as I wondered how long it had been since Frances had received my letter.
I only had twenty-two days until I was 18 and out of the foster care system for good, so hiding out until then was my only plan. Jumping off a pier felt like a death sentence, an outlandish act that would draw attention to a person who needed to blend in, but the dream of my mother waiting for me on that same pier brought a deep breath of hope into my lungs.
Every time I heard a knock on the door, at whatever home I was living in, I was sure it was her, but it never was. But this time, even though I hadn’t seen her, she was at my door and she brought me a pink envelope.
When you swim to shore you need to go straight to the lighthouse. (Do not skip jumping in the water. Jumping is essential.) Go to the window on the right of the front door and count three bricks down - take the loose brick out and remove the key, use it to open the lighthouse. Once you’re inside, find the library. On the second to bottom row of the fourth shelf there is a loose piece of wood, lift it up. Inside there will be a keyhole to which the lighthouse key will open. The shelf hides a secret room. Go in and lock it behind you. Once you get inside, read the journals.
I’d learned about the North Carolina lighthouses in school, including the brick built Port Swan Lighthouse. I knew that some lighthouses had libraries, and that the one in Port Swan was the only one in NC that did. However, I couldn’t remember reading anything about a secret room. I traced my memories with a fine tooth comb until I remembered seeing the light shining over the island when I was five, but I was sure I had never been inside.
I have enclosed a $5,000 check. Cash it and make sure you have it with you when you jump. I highly advise you to bring any money you have saved as well. When you have recovered from the aftermath of your jump, I need you to search for the house on Luna Road. I believe that when you see it, you’ll know. Buy that house.
(I know you’re thinking you won’t have enough money to buy an entire house, but you will. Trust me because I will never lie to you.)
I’m sorry that I’m not telling you this in person, but I can’t. I’m even more sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you in your eighteen years. Just know that I’ve loved you every day of your life.
Your Mother,
Gina
I glanced around the bare bus; there were no more than ten people riding, including myself. I looked toward the glowing red letters above the driver showing the estimated time of arrival to Port Swan as 9:12 PM. The moon was shining full in the navy sky, but we still had half an hour left to ride.
I unzipped my once white backpack covered in sharpie art and pulled out the gallon size ziploc bag. I’d saved every penny of fast food tips for my future freedom. Added up it was a little over one thousand dollars. In the midst of crumpled up small bills, a perfect, rubber-banded wad of fifty $100 bills was hidden. The teller cashed the $5000,00 check written to Vanessa Marshall five minutes before the bank closed, thirty minutes before the bus that I was sitting on left the station.
I was in utter disbelief that my current situation was reality, but the proof sat in my hands in the form of $6,018.00. It was more than enough to start a new life. I stuffed the ziploc back with the others into my backpack and wedged it between me and the window. In an attempt to think about anything other than the large sum of cash, my mind flashed back to the last day I spent with my mother, playing like a bad song on repeat.
j
The sun flickered through the curtains that danced with the cool morning breeze. I pulled the covers up over my bare arms, snuggling into my mother’s warm chest. I let myself drift back sleep to the rhythm of her steady breathing.
I woke up hazy-eyed, rubbing sleep out of my eyes with tiny fists. “Mommy?”
She was throwing my things into a bag, and throwing hers into a seperate one. In between grabbing things from the dresser and filling the bags, she stopped at the window peeking out like a spy. “Time to get up Nessa.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
She paused, taking two long deep breaths. She threw the arm full of clothes down on the bed and walked over, picking me up and holding me tight.
“Mommy has to go back to the place where I belong. Where we can all be together.”
“We are together,” I said, tilting my five year old head to the side.
“Not all of us, not how we’re supposed to be,” she whispered.
She kissed me on the forehead, leaving her lips there for what felt like a long time. “I love you so much.” She pulled herself away from me to look me in the eye. “Do you know that?”
I nodded. The sound of a car door shutting made her jump out of her skin. She plopped me down rushing back to the heap of clothes. Her leg was bouncing up and down as she stared across the yard at the house next door in between frantic packing.
Ten minutes later, I was told to jump out of the window and to keep quiet. We snuck around the house, crouched amidst the weeping leaves of the willow tree. The branches swayed from the wind coming off the water, itching my baby soft skin. My mother grabbed my hand and placed her pointer finger over her lips to remind me to stay quiet.
Right before we crossed the skinny paved road where a forest of trees sat across from our house, she stopped and stared at the house next door. A child’s squeal of delight escaped the window, followed by a round of adult laughter. I heard her take in a few deep breaths through her nose, attempting to hold back tears.
She wiped her eyes and told me not to let go of her. Hand in hand, we ran through the trees until we could see the main road. At the edge of the wooded area, which was just behind a bus stop, we stayed hidden until the bus arrived and the doors opened.
We grabbed a spot at the back, where no one else was sitting. Once the bus started moving, she pulled me onto her lap and held me like she never wanted to let go.
“I don’t have anything for you to remember me by,” she whispered, sniffling and choking on her words. She laid her head against my small forehead. Our dark waves intermingled making it impossible to tell whose hair was whose.
“I’ll always remember you,” I said, smiling to try and cheer her up. I took both of my hands to the edges of her lips and moved them upwards, but she didn’t smile back.
“I promise I’ll come back for you,” she said, her words firm. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar, so you can take my word for it. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, my voice small, unsure of what I was agreeing to.
“Anytime you miss me, look at the moon. Luna is a friend of mine and chances are if you’re looking at her, I am too.”
Three hours later, we were standing in front of the orphanage that I’d been taken from fourteen days before.
j
The sound of bus doors opening jerked me out of my memory. I flung my backpack over my shoulder and stepped out onto the island of Port Swan for the first time in thirteen years. It smelled just like I remembered it, salty and warm. The static echo of waves crashing filled the air and called my name.
Two
n
A small blue hut sat across the street from the bus station displaying a swan shaped sign that read, Swan Pier, Open 5 am to Midnight.
My untamed curls whipped across my face as I walked along the wooden pier that stood high above the ocean. I let my mind drift to thoughts of being the wind and taking myself wherever I wanted to go. I’d always admired weather because no one had any control over it, with a little help from the sun and the moon, the weather controlled itself.
The pier was lined with fishermen camped out with coolers and giant poles, baited and thrown out to sea. From left to right, I scanned each piece of faded wood looking for Gina’s butterfly. A little past half way down, my stomach churned in on itself at the sight of a woman with dark hair and perfect posture sitting with her legs dangling off the edge.
I inched closer in an attempt to see her face, but her hair was blowing wild and blocked my view. I froze as her hand trailed down and landed on the pier. On the very edge of an old board, a butterfly was carved in and she touched it like she knew it by name.
“Gina?” I whispered as a muffled roar blew past me, rounding my face and entering my ears. The wind had picked up causing the waves to slam into the thick poles that stood underneath of me. My heart was pounding as I took a few steps closer and reached out to touch the woman on her shoulder.
As her dark hair whipped around and her eyes landed on mine I felt my body give out. It wasn’t her. It was a girl around my age who was looking straight through me like she’d seen a ghost. I fell to my knees heartbroken. I let my face fall as my emotions got the better of me. Heavy, hard tears fell, pooling into my hands like a miniature ocean.
I heard a few gruff voices move closer, mumbling to each other about whether or not they should help. A gentle arm wrapped around my back and brought me back up to standing. “It’s going to be okay,” the girl whispered, moving me out of the walkway over to the spot she’d been sitting.
“There’s nothing to see here,” she said aloud, waving off the fisherman. I sniffed a few times, gasping for air as I attempted to stop the steady flow of tears.
“Are you alright?” she asked, rubbing my shoulder like a concerned adult might. I nodded and gave her a small smile to reassure her that I was fine. Her light brown eyes screamed that they didn’t believe me.
After I got myself together, she sat back down, swinging her legs over the edge once more. She patted the spot next to her inviting me to sit.
“This butterfly is a great listener,” she said, tracing its symmetrical wings with her fingers. “It’s been here my whole life. Sometimes when I need someone to talk to, I come here and tell it all my secrets.” She smiled a sneaky smile as she spoke.
I was at a loss for words.
“The current’s strong tonight,” she sai
d, changing the subject as she looked out across the deep, dark water topped by the reflection of the moon. “You can see it in the moonlight.”
Fear bubbled inside as reason reminded me that jumping off a pier was nonsense. Gina hadn’t come, she wasn’t there to stop me or catch me when I fell. A strong current meant being pulled by the massive waves wherever the sea decided to take me. I’d need strong lungs and swimmers’ arms. I didn’t have either.
“You know what I love?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Sunrise. Right here at this exact spot. The bittersweet moment when the moon and the stars have gone to sleep and the sun greets us with the promise of a new day. If you blink, you’ll miss it.”
“Do I know you?” I asked with a hoarse voice, staring at her familiar profile racking my brain for where I’d see her before. She wore a long sleeve yellow dress, a color that didn’t look good next to my olive skin but always caught my eye. Her beauty resembled a classic movie star, making me wonder if I recognized her from tv or a magazine instead of real life.
“No,” she smiled, “but, I know you.”
I cut my eyebrows sharp in contrast to the slight smile that touched the corners of my lips. “How?”
“Have you ever heard of deja vu?”
“Of course.”
“Sitting here with you while the full moon watches over us feels like a moment I’ve lived before. Do you feel it?”
I didn’t but I wanted to. The amount of people who talked to me like I was a person and not a can of food on a shelf were few and far between. I was consumed by the wonder of her words, and I wanted more.
The clock tower chimed ten making her hop up, startled by the sound. “That’s my cue. I better leave you two to it.” She nodded toward the butterfly and winked. “You look like you have a few secrets my friend here might be able to help you with.”
On Luna Time Page 1
