On Luna Time

by Amber Crawley

  “Alright Jo, we need to get you ready for bed.” Louise clapped. She spoke to Jo in a way that made me think she might be different behind closed doors.

  “But, we just got here,” Jo whined, her radiance fading.

  “You can visit another time,” Louise said. “Tell them goodnight now.”

  “Goodnight Vanessa,” Jo huffed obediently, leaning into me for a hug. A gust of air filled my lungs as I felt her tiny arms wrapped around me. I hated that I was holding a pie and couldn’t hug her back. I let my head fall onto hers instead. On her tippy toes she leaned up and whispered in my ear. “He’s so cute, I hope he kisses you.”

  A smile covered my face as I whispered back, “he already did.”

  She gasped with her hand flying to her mouth, laughing through her cupped hand.

  “Jo, lets go,” Louise spat. “Goodbye Warren, tell your father I said hello.”

  “Will do, Miss Marshall. Thank you again for the pie, Jo.” Wren said, winking at her.

  Jo looked at me shocked that he had spoken directly to her for a second time. Her cheeks flushed as she waved at us and ran out of the door with the umbrella over her head.

  Louise dilly-dallied toward the exit, letting her eyes roll over her shoulder as she slayed me with a final remark. “You’re just like your mother.” The door slammed behind her.

  Wren looked at me with his bushy eyebrows caved in, like he so often did. I was worried he would be self conscious about Louise catching us alone together but what he said was worse, “I thought you were an orphan?”

  “I am,” I stumbled over my words, even though I technically hadn’t lied to him. “I came to Port Swan looking for my birth mother.”

  “And Louise knows her?”

  “I guess so,” I admitted, biting my lip. My eyes went blurry as I leaned my chin on my shoulder and looked down at the pie in my hand. “No one has ever made me a pie before.”

  Without saying a word Wren walked into the kitchen and grabbed two of the four plates and forks I’d purchased. He walked back across the room looking into my soul and didn’t take his eyes off of me as sat down in the middle of the empty house.

  I sat down across from him placing the pie dish in between us. Using our two forks he began cutting into the pie like he was pulling meat. Despite his careless way of cutting, the piece of pie he placed on my plate was triangular and hadn’t fallen apart.

  He planted a soft kiss on my lips as he handed me a fork.

  “Tell me about her,” he said, letting his knees touch mine as he took his first bite.

  “Who?”

  “Your mother.”

  Fifteen

  n

  After we talked about my life story, me skirting around the bit about time traveling, we made out until the clock struck midnight. All I wanted to do was be in his presence. My lips tingled at the memory of my his lips against mine. I wanted more.

  I’d never had a boyfriend, and I’d only ever kissed one other boy my entire life - during a round of spin the bottle. I didn’t even remember his name. It was wet and gross and made me want to ward off boys forever.

  I watched Wren as he sat against the window seat in my house. He wasn’t a boy. He was eighteen, and his squared jawline made him look grown. It complimented the rest of his proportional face, with the exception of his slightly crooked nose. He cocked his head to the side as he flung the page of his book over, moving his lips with the words as he read. I had never seen him reading the same book twice; he devoured them.

  I took a deep breath and readjusted my position to try and focus on the task at hand. I was painting him reading by the light of the moon, so I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him for long. I tried to focus on the soft music coming out of the radio and the large white sheet that surrounded me. It was topped with scattered paints and brushes and splattered in tiny specks of color that mimicked the stars scattered across the sky.

  Luna was in a crescent, my favorite phase for her to be in. The crescent moon was whimsical, like Luna herself was sitting on the hook of it staring down at the world, granting all of the stars wishes. I looked past Wren into the night sky wishing for him to kiss me like he had the night before and hoping Luna heard.

  “How much longer do I have to sit like this?” Wren asked, turning another page and snapping me out of my wish.

  “Why don’t you just focus on reading?” I asked him, flirtation poured out of me.

  He looked away from his book with one raised eyebrow. “I would, but it’s hard to read when you’re sitting over there looking like that.”

  “Looking like what?” I asked, my voice rising higher than it normally did.

  My hair was down and salt water wavy, free from the ponytail and scarf that it was normally constricted to and my cheeks were stained pink. I had on my ripped jeans and a new white cotton t-shirt that I purchased from the men’s section.

  Wren was wearing a duplicate version of my shirt, but his toned arms sticking out of the tight white sleeves made it look much better on him. He put his book down, spine up and pages out to hold his spot. With his eyes on mine he walked over to me, kneeling down once he reached the edge of the sheet. My soul was officially scarred for life, no other boy would ever measure up.

  “Careful or you’ll get paint on your jeans,” I warned. I placed my paintbrush into one of the many cups of water surrounding me. I walked on my knees from the middle of the sheet toward the edge, stopping a few inches away from where he landed.

  “I don’t care.” Wren moved himself closer until there was no more than an inch between our knees. He leaned his torso in until he was almost touching me, but not quite.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, silently thanking Luna for granting my wish so quickly. “I’m covered in paint.”

  Wren placed his hands on my waist and slowly wiggled up the sides of my oversized shirt, until his fingers touched my skin. His smell was intoxicating and made me drunk every time he’d been that close. I licked my lips and watched as he did the same. He leaned his head down and softly placed his mouth against mine. My eyes flew shut and my thoughts went blurry.

  He grabbed hold of the bottom of my shirt and lifted it up, tossing it down beside of us. “Now you’re not.”

  I gasped trying to cover my pink silk bra with my hands, but the cream colored lace along the curved top still peeked out. I liked how my skin felt inside of it, fresh instead leftover. My last bra hadn’t properly fit since I was fifteen, and I’d purchased it for $2 at goodwill when I was fourteen.

  My insides started to melt as Wren moved his hands from my sides to my lower back, touching his lips to mine. I parted my mouth, and he parted his. My breath was quickening to the point that I almost lost the ability to breathe. He swooped me down, laying my back flat on top of the cleanest part of the sheet. I allowed my hands to move from my chest to my sides. His face relaxed in unison with mine.

  A new sense of calm was flowing through me. Wren was turning me into a fall day.

  j

  An hour later, Jo was sitting in between us on the window seat. Louise dropped her off in a hurry, banging on the door the same way she had done the day before. “This is what neighbors do around here,” she said as she rushed off. In reality, she didn’t want Wren and I alone.

  “So, what should we do?” Jo asked, tapping her feet against the seat.

  Wren looked at me with one raised eyebrow nodding his head toward the loft. My eyes grew wide as I shook my head in shock that he would be thinking of such a thing while Jo was there.

  “Do you two wish you were kissing right now?” Jo asked, looking back and forth between us with googly eyes. We both shook our our heads, but Wren reached behind Jo and grabbed my hand.

  “Wow, did you paint that?” Jo bounced up, stopping at the edge of the sheet to admire the canvas that leaned against the soft playing radio. I nodded, feeling warmth from the wonder that escaped from her.

  “Can y
ou teach me how to do it?” She asked, picking up the various paintbrushes and examining them.

  “Of course I can.”

  Wren kissed me on the cheek and grabbed his book, getting back into his pose. “I’ll be here, you ladies take all the time you need.”

  Sixteen

  n

  Blood was covering the raw corner of my thumbnail as I stood outside of the Davenport home, wishing I could run away to the secret room that was within yards of where I was standing.

  Through the window, Rosemary was setting the dining room table, but I still couldn’t make out her face, all I could see was blonde hair. I hadn’t been back inside of Wren’s house since the day of my arrival, and by some miracle, I’d avoided her entirely.

  Wren’s parents had been up north celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary for three weeks. He assured me that his entire family would be no less than thrilled to meet the girl he fancied, despite their long vacation. I liked the thought of being fancied.

  “Nessa?” Wren said, peeking his head out from the front door. “Are you coming?”

  I walked up the five wide wooden steps that led up to the front porch with nerves jumping. To my relief, Wren was in the dining room alone when I turned the corner.

  “Rosemary will be right down, she just went to freshen up,” Wren said, reaching for my hand. “She remembered you after all, when she saw you standing outside.”

  “She did?” I began to clam up. Rosemary couldn’t remember me. We’d never met. My throat went thick as I thought back to her adjusting book on the lighthouse library shelf, when I was hidden behind it. Had she seen me break in?

  I took Wren’s hand and let him walk me through to the kitchen, a room I hadn’t been in before. It was a wide galley style kitchen that led to a window filled breakfast nook in the back. Except for the black and white checkered floor everything was white.

  “We just remodeled. We even got a dishwasher!” Wren said, running across the floor like a child in a candy store. “Want to see it?”

  I walked over and tried my best to act amazed. “Wow.”

  “It really is something. I don’t even mind helping with the dishes, if you can believe that,” Wren laughed. It was like watching a really bad infomercial.

  “Are you showing off?” I heard a girl’s voice tease as she entered the room. I sucked in a tight breath as I whipped myself around to face the girl I was supposed to already know. The sight of her made me back up until I bumped myself against Wren. Rosemary was the same girl I had seen on the beach the night I arrived.

  “I’m Rosemary… but you already know that.” She said, holding her hand out to mine. She had honey blonde curls that framed her face perfectly and a mouth that matched Wren’s. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

  “Vanessa, but you already know that,” I said. Wren and Rosemary both laughed along with me. She stared at me hard showing the side of her that would give her brother an awful nickname. I swallowed as I asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “How thoughtful,” Rosemary said, surprised. “Warren, why don’t you go fetch some clean clothes and let us girls finish up. Mama and Daddy will be here any minute I’m sure.”

  “Alright,” Wren nodded. He placed his hand on my arm as he promised to be right back. I wanted to follow him up the stairs and kiss him on the balcony overlooking the ocean until our lips were swollen, the same way we’d done hours before at my house.

  “So, are you and my brother going steady?” Rosemary asked, interrupting my fantasy. She picked up six forks from the drawer, I followed her lead and picked up six spoons. “He’s never brought a girl home for dinner before.”

  “I… don’t know.” I answered with a dazed look.

  “How did you know my name anyway? I know you remember me, but I never spoke to you,” Rosemary said, placing forks around the set table. I followed her around the room setting the spoons down next to them.

  “The spoons go on the other side, next to the butter knives,” Rosemary explained, puzzled by my ignorance.

  “Right,” I sighed. “Silly me.”

  “Where did you say you were from?” She walked counter clockwise around the table, moving the spoons I had laid down.

  “Raleigh,” I said, quicker than I intended to. I moved backwards, almost hitting the wall to move out of her way.

  “Why were you out on the beach in the middle of the night?” Rosemary asked, readjusting the final setting. “Wet and in strange clothes?”

  “I was just out for a walk. I leaned down to pick up a shell and fell in,” I said, turning toward the painting of the Port Swan lighthouse hanging above the dining room fireplace.

  “You could see a shell in the pitch black?” She asked.

  “The moon was bright.”

  I didn’t turn around, letting my answer fly to her without the accompaniment of my face. I feared what she might say or see if she looked too closely at me, a girl who didn’t belong.

  “Dean was worried about you for days,” Rosemary said as if she were bored.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need, he’s just that kind of guy. We’re getting married you know. Did Warren tell you?” Rosemary said with distant agony in the back of her throat. She stood next to me twisting her engagement ring in circles, moving her fingers to make room for the giant diamond that stuck out.

  “Congratulations,” I said, turning to face her.

  “That’s what everyone says.”

  “What else is there to say?”

  A knock on the doorway startled us both. Wren was standing tall with one arm against the wall and the other in his pocket; my stomach flopped. He had on a gray suit and neatly combed hair. I was sure every girl in Port Swan wanted to be his.

  “Well, don’t you look sharp,” Rosemary said, walking over to Wren and adjusting his yellow tie. I blushed realizing he had chosen it so he could match me. Wren swatted her away and walked over to me, placing his hand against the small of my back. Rosemary went pale as she looked away from us to center her ring on her finger.

  j

  Silently, I sat next to Wren at the dining room table and across from us Rosemary sat next to Dean. The ticking clock had beaten my ear drums raw from the otherwise silent room. It was clear Rosemary had warned Dean not to say anything to me, but his friendly smile told me he was glad I was okay. He was nice looking with dirty blonde hair and green eyes, but he was as dull as they came. He talked of nothing but his rare coin collection and his plans for finding the next one.

  A record played in the living room allowing a slight bit of ease to soften the mood. Suddenly, the door creaked open interrupting Evelyn Knight singing, A Little Bird Told Me. I wasn’t a fan of the music in 1949 but had unintentionally learned all the songs and often found myself mouthing along without realizing it.

  Wren’s parents walked into the entryway greeted by an excited Rosemary and contented Wren. Dean and I stood up at the table, watching as they hugged their parents. Dean waited until the family was finished saying their hellos before he made his way over.

  “Dean, I know you’ve been taking care of my baby girl while I’ve been gone.” Wren’s father asked without asking. He shook Dean’s hand while patting him hard on the shoulder.

  “Yes sir,” Dean answered.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Vanessa,” Wren said, interrupting.

  Wren’s mother looked at me warmly scooting past him to give me a hug, but his father didn’t budge.

  “Herbert? What’s the matter?” Wren’s mother asked. She rushed over placing both of her hands against his salt and pepper covered cheeks. The color was drained from his face as he stared at me with wide, rapidly blinking hazel eyes as if a piece of his past had jumped through time.

  My mouth went dry and Gina’s journal entry ran through my mind like a freight train.

  I love everything about the Davenport family. I’m pretty sure Herbert is as in love with me as I a
m him.

  “I’m fine, Lillian,” Herbert said, looking at his wife with reassuring eyes. Herbert was a hurricane of nerves and everyone was taking caution. “Rosie Girl, did you do all this?”

  Rosemary took her father away from his wife to seat him at the head of the table. “I made your favorite, Daddy.”

  “Well, aren’t you just a doll,” Herbert said, reaching over to touch her face. Rosemary looked ten years younger, giddy with excitement over pleasing her father.

  “Oh darling, you did such a good job. It all looks just wonderful,” Lillian said, giving her daughter the highest praise. Rosemary grinned at her but only for a moment before she turned her attention back to her father.

  “Vanessa helped set the table,” Wren said, nodding his head toward me.

  “Is that so?” Lillian said, patting my arm lovingly. I shrugged, not wanting to admit to helping but not wanting to disagree. I wanted to pull away from her unfamiliar parental touch, but I didn’t. It was easy to sit next to her, and I liked the way she smelled, like a real mother.

  The table was full with a pot roast surrounded by potatoes and carrots, a bowl of vinegar soaked cucumbers, and a basket of homemade biscuits.

  “I think this is the twelfth night of pot roast?” Wren joked, looking at Rosemary. A boyish grin slapped across his face as he attempted to rile his sister up.

  “Thirteenth,” she joked back. Rosemary was a proper lady who sat with her hands in her lap and took small bites. She listened as everyone else spoke and always waited her turn to speak. Even if she didn’t approve of my presence, she was polite enough not to say it out loud. “How do you like it Daddy?”

  “Thirteenth time’s the charm,” Herbert responded placing a fork full into his mouth. Other than the occasional word to Rosemary or Lillian, he kept his eyes on his food throughout dinner, not making eye contact with me or Wren once.