On Luna Time

by Amber Crawley

  Annabella

  September 14th, 1930

  Dear Luna,

  I’m venturing out to try and find my father.

  Annabella

  September 14th, 1930

  Dear Luna,

  There is so much to say, and I can’t find the courage to write the words. Maybe tomorrow.

  I’m going to read Anne of Green Gables to bring myself some comfort. It’s my favorite book because I think I’m like her. Only I have dark, almost black, hair and baby blue eyes.

  Annabella

  Dark almost black hair and baby blue eyes, she could have been describing me. I was in Gina’s stomach in 1924 and the dark haired man in the photo was my father.

  September 18th, 1930

  Dear Luna,

  I met my birth father while sitting at the counter in Black Swan eating lunch. When he sat down next to me, I had no choice but to speak. It was as if fate brought him there.

  His name is John Johnson. I’m not sure what kind of person would name their child that, but whatever. He is handsome, and I can see why Gina would have fallen for him. We talked for an hour about the most random of things.

  We talked about the weather and sharks and seashells and grapes. We talked about the cheeseburgers we were eating and how pickles are gross, after we both pulled them off. We talked about how lemons are strangely and sourly delicious, especially in a dessert. We talked about Halloween - which also happens to be his birthday. I told him mine was soon, so he bought me a piece of lemon pie and he bought one for himself too. While we ate it, we talked about Cynthia - his wife. We talked about Johnny - his son, Jonathan James Johnson, THE FOURTH. I have a brother. I’ve never had a sibling, but I’ve always wanted one.

  I wanted to talk to him for ten more hours. So, when he left, I followed him. I waited outside of his office for four hours hiding in the alleyway of his dentist office. I “bumped” into him again when he walked out.

  With all of my courage at the tip of my tongue, I asked him about Gina. I apologized for not bringing up the subject over lunch and said I was her cousin. Considering it has only been 6 years since he’s seen her, there was no way he would have believed I was his daughter. He apologized for hurting her, and said he wished he knew where she was. He said he was happy now with Cynthia, and he would appreciate me not trying to push the issue.

  I cried for a few days. I still want to cry. I’m honestly not sure what kind of man my father really is considering he was in love with Liza and knocked Gina up. I don’t know if he ever loved my mother or if he ever even liked her. But regardless, I met the man that gave me life and I know now that it was worth it to jump.

  Annabella

  September 19th, 1930

  Dear Luna,

  Someone named Herbert is getting married tomorrow at the lighthouse. I plan on attending. I’m going to town to buy a new dress, rent a hotel room, and take a hot shower. I’m tired of “bathing” in the ocean. Tomorrow at the wedding, I plan to eat cake and pretend to be a distant relative.

  Annabella

  Herbert’s conversation with Louise came back to me in an instant.

  I could have sworn I saw her in 1930, at my wedding reception. As soon as I spoke to her, she ran away, and I never saw her again. John said her name was Annabella.

  Annabella looked so much like me that Herbert thought I was her.

  September 20th, 1930

  Dear Luna,

  The wedding is still going on outside of the lighthouse right now. Thanks to the fact that everyone is in the backyard, I was able to sneak back in here. The strangest thing just happened…

  I snuck in halfway through the wedding ceremony without anyone noticing me. I thought I’d gotten away with it until John, who is also the best man, caught my eye as he was walking out. He gave me a serious look that made me feel as if my presence was unwelcome. That’s when I realized exactly who Herbert was. Herbert Davenport. Gina’s Herbert. John’s best friend. Sherbet Herbert.

  Instead of leaving right then, I followed the crowd to the reception. I made a plate of food and found a place in the back corner where I hoped to blend in. Then John spotted me, and came over stomping. He told me I needed to leave, he said that Herbert couldn’t find out that anyone related to Gina was here.

  But then, Herbert saw us. It was too late. John started to pull me away, begging me to leave. Herbert yelled out, Gina!, so loud the entire wedding silenced and turned to face him. I told John I was sorry for whatever trouble I caused and ran.

  I can’t wait for the day when I finally find my mother. There clearly was a much deeper relationship between herself and Herbert than she let on in the journals.

  Annabella

  I thought back to Wren telling me about his father carving the butterfly at the vineyard. Herbert had never stopped loving Gina, and I wasn’t sure he ever would. He was scared that Wren was going to have the same lifelong heartbreak that he was living.

  I sucked in a gust of air thinking of Rosemary’s words inside of my house days before.

  My father was ruined for many years because of your mother, the love he had for her still haunts him. My Grandfather and Great-Grandfather were ruined by your line as well. Women on Luna Time are not welcome in our lives, and that includes you.

  October 5th, 1930

  Sitting in a secret room without a birthday cake is a sucky way to turn eighteen..

  Annabella

  Annabella’s 18th birthday was on the same date as mine. All of the pieces were floating around my head like stars surrounding the moon. Jo’s small voice giving me my tea reading rang in my ears and a chill ran down my spine. You will read something unexpected and will see a pattern in the unexpected. You are one third of the pattern. Herbert calling me Annabella, Louise insisting that I had jumped before, the photo in Rosemary’s album.

  I had a twin sister.

  I thought of Gina holding me tight in our house on Luna Road when I was five.

  “Mommy has to go back to the place where I belong. Where we can all be together,” she whispered

  “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.”

  The child’s laughter coming from the small house next door haunted me as I sat alone in the secret room. It was Annabella. She was right there, within Gina’s reach, adopted by her uncle and aunt. But why wasn’t I? Why didn’t Gina just take me next door and leave me with them? Why did she take me back?

  October 7th, 1930

  Dear Luna,

  I’m jumping tonight. I don’t know if I’ll swim back to 2019 or if I’ll get eaten by a shark. Either way, I sure as hell better land somewhere other than here. I think more than anything, I’d like to find Gina. Or at least find out what the purpose of this adventure was.

  Annabella

  My heart was pounding as I carefully put the room back in order for the next traveler. My hands were trembling, but I didn’t rush. I moved like the perfect fall day I’d learned to be, slow and steady. I placed the journal into the drawer along with the others, closed the door to the bookshelf securely, and made my way out of the lighthouse. I put the key back in its loose brick, and walked down the same winding path I had fallen on four weeks earlier.

  Standing outside of the Davenport house, I looked up at Luna filling the clear night sky, then to the lights that were on in Wren’s bedroom. Every nerve in my body wanted to run to him and hold on for dear life. I walked up to his red Chevy running my fingers along the smooth paint job stopping at the side view mirror. I stood still and quiet staring at my dark, almost black hair and baby blue eyes. I thought of Gina and Annabella as I studied myself, soaking in every detail of my features until my eyes were so filled with tears that my reflection was blurred. As much as I wanted to be with Wren, I needed to be with them.

  “Nessa?” I heard from the second floor balcony of Wren’s house.

&
nbsp; “Wren,” I whispered, too quietly for him to hear me. He was sitting on the dark porch leaning onto the railing. I ducked down out of sight.

  “What are you doing out there?” he yelled.

  “Just let her go Warren,” I heard Rosemary’s voice plead from the doorway.

  My pulse began to race, so fast that I could barely catch my breath. I started running, slow at first, and then to full speed. I heard Wren’s faint voice calling as I slammed my converse down onto the dirt road that lined the island. Visions of Frances screaming my name one month before from the distant memory of my last foster home entered my mind. I hadn’t thought of that part of my life since I’d jumped. I would rather run forever than go back to that.

  With Wren’s voice getting quieter the further I got, tears streamed down my face. I didn’t stop running until I reached the pier.

  Sitting next to the carved butterfly, I pulled out my checklist to look over once more before sealing it inside of a ziploc. According to my watch, I still had 8 minutes to enjoy Port Swan as I had come to love it. My eyes flew down to the bottom of the page. In scribbled boy handwriting, Wren had filled in the 10th spot.

  1. Find a place to call home.

  2. Paint my life.

  3. Live like the weather.

  4. Buy a yellow dress.

  5. Refill the basket with food.

  6. Visit the vineyard.

  7. Look for the house on Luna Road.

  8. Read the journals.

  9. Find Gina.

  10. Stay.

  The tears that had dried up came back out, flowing harder than they had before. I pulled out a pen from my bag, taking the cap off with my teeth. With trembling hands and blurry eyes I drew a heart over the tenth item on my list.

  I hadn’t only fallen in love with Wren, but with the person he helped me be. He was the warm breeze in my wind, and I would carry his warmth with me wherever I went.

  I folded the envelope up on the same creases that it had been folded on repeatedly for thirty days and placed it in the ziploc along with Gina’s letter. I climbed the railing of the pier, sitting on top, dangling my feet off the side. I looked at my watch, 11:59. I started to count to sixty, adding in mississippi's after each number.

  “Sixty mississippi,” I said as the clock tower chimped midnight.

  I snapped my backpack to my chest, pulling the frayed ends of the straps tight. I took a deep breath, knowing the pressure my chest would feel after hitting the water. I stood up, bent my knees, and jumped.

  Through the wind and ominous sounds of the dark water below, I heard my name echo in the wind like a whisper in my ear.

  Twenty-Three

  n

  The full moon was filling the sky so bright, I could see my reflection in the glass door of my house. I had made it out of the ocean unscathed, much easier than I had the first time around. I looked at the wet girl dressed in yellow looking back at me in the window and didn’t feel like I knew her. I had grown from a girl to a woman in one month’s time. I brushed away all of the pain that consumed me to focus on what I needed to know, if Gina was inside waiting for me.

  With a shaking hand, I reached underneath the rock to the right of the door and felt for my key. A relieved sigh vibrated out of my chest. Using both hands, I slipped the key into the knob and twisted. I smelled a fresh coat of a blue paint covering the wood door.

  I closed my eyes tight as I reached to my right to feel for the light switch. I let my mind fill with every memory I spent in the space, knowing it wouldn’t be the same room I left behind hours before. I felt Wren’s absence heavy in my chest and Jo’s smile pricked at my eyelids. Before I allowed a tear to fall, I flung open my eyes and moved the light switch to the up position.

  A gasp left my lips at the sight of a lit room filled with things that weren’t mine. There were dishes on the table with pieces of cake on them, fresh enough that I smelled the sugar. A large flat screen TV hung on the wall and modern day furnishings were scattered. There was no doubt that Luna had brought me back to where I belonged.

  I started stepping backwards, trying to tiptoe my way to the door. I was breaking and entering, and the cops would surely be called. I thought of Frances and how I’d attacked her to get my pink envelope. If she’d reported me as a violent, missing foster child, I was sure I would be arrested.

  Still walking backward, I slammed against a sharp corner. “Ouch,” I whispered. I turned around to see that I had hit a bookshelf. As I reached up to flick the light switch back down, a row of framed photos on the middle shelf caught my eye.

  They were photos of me. Photos I never posed for and of a life I didn’t live. There was a photo of me standing on the edge of a pier, with the same view that was outside of the very house I was standing in - my house. There was a photo of me, around the age of ten, smiling next to a beautiful woman with blonde hair. Next to that was a graduation photo of me in a blue cap and gown. I hadn’t walked at my graduation, and if I would have, my gown would have been green.

  I remembered Annabella’s journal entries. We’ve always been neighbors, my grandparents in the same house that’s been passed down for generations and my parents in me in the tiny cottage next door. I moved closer to the photos, in every one of them she looked identical to me.

  The sound of someone tapping on the window flew straight to my chest. I quickly flipped the light switch down and grabbed one of the frames to use as a weapon. As the door began to creak open, I lifted the photo above my head prepared to whip it at whoever walked through the door.

  “No trespassing. I’ll call the cops,” I whispered, my voice sounded weak. I wanted to pretend that the house was still mine, but I knew better than to think anyone would believe me.

  The figure of a boy silhouetted by the light of the moon filled the doorway.

  “Nessa?” A familiar voice spoke, covering my body with chillbumps.

  “Wren?” I whispered louder than I meant to, breathy and in shock.

  I was sure I was seeing things, but I flung myself at him, squeezing my arms around his middle. His clothes were wet - just like mine. His familiar smell filled me as I pressed my lips against his. My eyes began to burn as salty tears poured down the curves surrounding our connected lips. I didn’t understand how it was possible for him to be standing there, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t alone.

  He was quiet, taking in my love, but only for a split second. He pulled back from me to shout whisper, “Why the hell did you jump off the pier?”

  Oh shit. Wren was in 2019. I had changed history.

  “Why did you run away from me?” he asked, desperate for an answer.

  “What? When?... I didn’t.” I couldn’t think straight. How was he standing there? I thought only Marshall women could travel.

  “Just now, on the beach. You looked right at me and then ran when I screamed your name,” he said, with his head flinching back slightly.

  “I didn’t see you on the beach,” I said honestly. I wondered if he had hit his head, or if he was feeling delusional like I did after my first jump.

  Wren’s eyebrows squished together as he rubbed his hand across his wet lips, wiping my tears off of him.

  “How are you here?” I asked, taking in a deep breath.

  “I came after you when you ran from my house. When I saw you standing on the edge, it was like I was watching my life end,” Wren whispered, grabbing a hold of me once again. “I’m not ready for my life to be over just yet, so I jumped in to save you. I didn’t care if I died trying. All that mattered was that I was where you were.”

  I had forgotten about the picture frame in my hand, and I wanted to hold Wren tighter. I sat the photo back down back on the shelf with a plan of getting us both out of the house as fast as I could.

  A crash filled the room as the frame fell from the shelf breaking itself hard on the floor.

  A light clicked on from the bedroom. I turned and grabbed Wren’s hand and squeez
ed. My heart was pounding, but with him next to me I was ready to take on whatever came at us.

  “Annie, is that you?” A woman with messy blonde hair came out. It was the same woman from the photos on the bookshelf. She ran over to me, taking me by the hands.

  “This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Who’s this?” she asked, with a cheerful but sleepy voice. She pulled me into her warm body. Her cheeks were hot and flushed from being in a deep sleep.

  I didn’t say a word or hug her back; my body stiffened. I watched as a man with dark wavy hair emerged groggily from the bedroom. His kind face brightened at the sight of me.

  “What’s wrong?” The blonde woman asked. She pulled back from me, looking down at the glass covered floor. “Oh, don’t worry about that old frame. Shane, get the broom!”

  I thought of Annabella’s journal entry. My parents’ names are Shane and May. Gina, my birth mother, references them both in her entry as her brother and best friend.

  I looked back at Wren who had a betrayed look on his face. He was glancing back and forth between me, the shelf of photos, and the room. The same room we had stood in only days before, without painted walls, or futuristic appliances that he had never seen. Every thought and emotion he was feeling, I could read. He thought I was a liar.

  “How is my Annie girl old enough to bring boys home?” Shane asked as he handed the broom off to the woman. He looked at me like I was his child as he went in for a hug. After hugging me, he pulled himself back still touching both of my arms. “Why are you wet?”

  The name Annie rang through me.

  “You said I wouldn’t come to you when you were calling my name?” I asked Wren, breaking the man’s embrace.

  “Yes, Vanessa. What is going on?” Wren asked, saying Vanessa firmly and moving closer to me to whisper as he spoke.

  “Vanessa?” The man asked looking toward blonde haired woman, who was clearly his wife May, for answers. He cocked his head sideways as he moved his eyes between us.