Blue Moon

by Luanne Rice

  “I love you,” he said.

  26

  Oh, God, I feel so important he’s my cousin,” Emma said, slouched down in her chair in the school auditorium.

  “I know,” Belinda said, feeling a major adrenaline rush. Any second now the principal was going to introduce T.J., and the entire student body would rise as one and salute him. It was the day before Thanksgiving. “Just check out Alison. This is going to be great.”

  “That slut,” Emma said, popping gum. “Look at her, on the edge of her seat.”

  Alison had a fourth-row center-aisle seat. As close to the stage as she’d dare sit without sacrificing coolness, but so incredibly obvious. She perched there, her knees together, tilting into the aisle, her fawn suede mini hiked up to there, her expertly blushed cheeks glowing, her doe eyes batting a mile a minute, waiting for T.J. to appear.

  “He can’t miss her, that’s for sure,” Emma said. “I’ll kill him if he even looks at her. She does not deserve the time of day.”

  “I notice she’s left Martin high and dry.”

  “That seems to be her big talent, dropping guys.”

  “T.J. survived,” Belinda said. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Emma, about Josie’s revelation. After T.J. had left to search for their father, Josie had told Belinda about the gun. Belinda hadn’t believed her at first. Why should she have? Josie had kept saying “shoot head,” “shoot head,” only her funny pronunciation made it sound like “shoe Ed.”

  “What shoe? Who’s Ed?” Belinda had asked, until Josie flew into a rage, pulled Belinda right down to the cellar, showed her the suds hole, too deep to see anything, and the cupboard, full of bullets, where T.J. had found the gun.

  Belinda watched Alison now. Alison was gazing adoringly at the stage curtain, and T.J. wasn’t even there yet. Her friends, taking up the rows around her, buzzed with anticipation.

  “You’re going to get arrested,” Emma said.

  “For what?”

  “Assault with attempt to shave. You’re giving her razor looks. Quit staring at her and have some gum.” Emma offered her a stick. Cinnamon.

  “Hey, dudettes.” Sean porked his way past some kids to nab the empty seat in front of Belinda and Emma.

  “Hey, pudge,” Emma said. Belinda felt glad Emma was taking it easy on Sean.

  Suddenly Mrs. Foster, the principal, walked across the stage. She clasped the podium, and almost before anyone had noticed her, she was introducing T.J.

  “… what the Coast Guard could not accomplish. Against terrible odds, through one of the worst storms of this decade, through the blackness of night …”

  “Is she introducing a mailman?” Emma whispered.

  “Shush!” Belinda said, even more on the edge of her seat than Alison.

  “… love for his father. Something we all have, but often don’t admit until it’s too late. Three men lost their lives—men whose children some of you know. Today, many of your parents will attend their funeral. Many of your fathers fish for a living, and many of you will carry on that tradition.

  “All through those terrible days, when we didn’t know the Cassandra’s fate, we pulled together as a school. Some of us prayed. Some of us kept busy, trying to keep from watching the hours tick by. But one thing united us all: our deep concern and admiration for your classmate, Tom Medieros. He’s a real hero.”

  “I can’t believe she called him ‘Tom’!” Belinda squealed, her eyes closed.

  “T.J.!” Emma yelled. “Yo, Teej!”

  Then the whole assembly, everyone from middle school to high school, got going: “T.J., T.J.”

  Finally, the curtain opened and T.J. stepped out. Belinda leapt to her feet, clapping till her hands hurt. T.J. looked so cute, all sunburned and tall, as if he’d grown six inches on the trip. Or maybe it was just because he was onstage. Belinda didn’t care. Just looking at her brother, knowing he’d rescued their father, made her so proud.

  T.J. stared at Alison for a minute, but he didn’t smile. He looked up. Cleared his throat.

  “Thanks for thinking about me while I was out there,” he said, still not smiling. “I was really scared, and I know your thoughts, or whatever, helped. All of you whose fathers fish probably know how I felt. You would have done the same. Or you would have wanted to do the same. But maybe your moms wouldn’t let you. Maybe you wouldn’t have made it to the dock on time to jump onboard a boat. Maybe you would have had to stay home with your little sister.”

  He cleared his throat, seeming nervous. He scanned the crowd, and this time he found Belinda. Her eyes glittered, and she gave him her biggest smile, glad because he’d looked at her for courage. He didn’t look away.

  “In a way, it’s probably harder staying home, waiting while someone else looks,” he said. “So that’s why I want to thank my sister, Belinda. She wanted to be searching just as much as I did.”

  Suddenly the whole school was yelling her name, clapping their hands, and Emma pulled Belinda to her feet. Emma and Sean pushed her into the aisle, so Belinda didn’t have any choice.

  “Way to go, Bel!” Emma called.

  Belinda walked down the aisle, feeling small as she passed rows of standing freshmen, sophomores, even juniors and seniors, all clapping and watching her. She climbed the steps to the stage, feeling like she’d never get to the top. But she did, and there was T.J., clapping as hard as everyone else, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Bel from hell,” he said.

  “Tom Medieros.”

  She waved to Emma, then she and T.J. walked off the stage. Belinda thought she’d explode, she felt so happy. She hurried down the aisle, noticing that Alison barely looked at them. Sean and Emma gave her high-fives. The bell rang: only two more periods, and then the school day would be over and it would be Thanksgiving break.

  Josie was going to stay with Zach while her parents went to the men’s funeral. She played in her room, waiting for him to come.

  Josie loved her parrot. T.J. had brought it home for her. He told her it had flown onto his boat with all its friends and family, and when they all flew away, her parrot stayed. Josie named him Ken.

  Ken lived in a cage that Josie’s grandmother used to keep in the cellar. Josie had wanted to get in the cage herself, it was so beautiful and fancy, and nearly big enough for a girl. White wire with swings and platforms. But her mother had said no, it was Ken’s home.

  Josie kept Ken in her room. At night her mother showed her how to put a sheet over his cage. In the morning Josie gave Ken water and birdseed. Ken liked to hop around, looking for food. Sometimes T.J. came into her room, and they’d close Josie’s door and let Ken fly free.

  T.J. and Belinda talked to Ken, and Ken talked back. To Josie, Ken’s words sounded just like noise, but Belinda said they were words. She promised she would teach Ken how to say Josie’s name. Josie stared at Ken, wishing she could hear him talk. Zach had taught her how to sign “Ken,” and Josie tried it now.

  Her father walked into her room. He knelt beside Ken’s cage, so he was closer to Josie’s height. Josie was so happy to have him home from the hospital, but right now she felt sad, because she couldn’t hear Ken. She raised up her arms, so her father would hug her.

  “How’s Ken?” he asked.

  “He’s good.”

  Ken must have been talking, because suddenly her father laughed. “That’s a smart bird,” he said.

  “Why?” Josie asked.

  “Because he can talk.”

  Josie pushed away from her father. Her face felt hot and she was embarrassed. Ken could probably talk better than Josie did. Her father didn’t think Josie was as smart as her parrot.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Josie shook her head. She wished he would go away. She felt very mad at her father, and very sad, both at the same time.

  “Please tell me, Josie,” he said.

  Tears pushed out of her eyes, and she felt like hitting him. “It’s because you think I’m stupid,” she yelled.r />
  “No, I don’t think that!” Her father tried to hug her, but she squirmed away.

  Josie hid her face, so she wouldn’t be able to see his mouth. “I can’t hear you,” she signed. “I’m not listening to you.”

  Her father waited for her to look up.

  “I think you’re very smart,” he said, when she did.

  She shook her head, because she didn’t believe him.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Not as smart as Ken,” she said.

  “Much smarter,” he said. “Smarter than me, and I’m your father.”

  Josie began to smile, but she felt suspicious. How could her father say she was smarter than him?

  “You’re learning a whole new language,” he said. “Zach says you’re the fastest learner he’s ever taught.”

  Josie smiled wide, in spite of herself. Zach had told her that, too. But she hadn’t thought her father would think it was a big deal.

  “Zach likes me,” Josie said.

  “I know he does. Next week he’s going to take me and Mommy to visit a school. Where you might go next year.”

  “North Point,” Josie said, signing the words as she said them. She felt very scared, thinking about kindergarten. At first she’d been afraid because she didn’t want to be with other kids who would make fun of her. But Zach had told her about North Point, where all the kids were deaf. Kindergarten still scared her, but not as much.

  Mommy came into the room. “Hi, Josie,” she signed.

  “Hi, Mom,” Josie signed back.

  “Zach is here,” Mommy signed.

  Josie gave her father a quick kiss and ran out of her room, down the hall to the sun porch, where she knew Zach would be waiting.

  James Keating thought of Jesse’s and Frank’s and Tony’s families, having to have their funeral the day before Thanksgiving. And he felt guilty as hell, because he had so much to feel thankful for.

  He stood at one of Lobsterville’s big picture windows, surveying the harbor while he waited for Mary. His gaze kept returning to the Aurora, tied to the dock. Her evergreen hull, the white trim—a good, solid boat. For all the Keatings, a good-luck boat: it had brought Billy home alive.

  Jimmy had never in his wildest dreams thought it would happen. Many boats sank and many fishermen were rescued, but not a hundred miles off Nantucket in a November gale. He had given Billy up for dead. His worst thoughts over that last day had been for Cass and the kids.

  “Hi, love,” Mary said. She sneaked up behind him, put her arms around his waist. “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “Just looking at the Aurora,” he said. “Who’d have thought it?”

  “Must fill you with pride,” Mary said.

  “It’s not like I was there,” Jimmy said, wishing he had been in on the rescue.

  “Just wipe that frown off your face and feel a little pleasure, for heaven’s sake. Will you please lose the hair shirt?”

  Jimmy gave her a little squeeze.

  “After all, you called the governor. The search would have ended an entire day earlier. You’ve really got clout, Jimmy.”

  “Know when to quit, Mary,” Jimmy said, but he smiled.

  “What a Thanksgiving.”

  “Yes, I was just thinking that myself.”

  With his arm around Mary, as he looked across from Lobsterville to the warehouse, something rang clear as a bell. There were the Aurora and the Norboca. When Billy was ready to come back, while he looked for a boat to replace the Cassandra, the Norboca was waiting. Jimmy owned the fleet, the wharf, the warehouse, and the best restaurant in Rhode Island, and he had a family who loved each other. He might retire, but he wasn’t getting rid of any of it.

  “Christmas in Florida,” he said, trying it out.

  “We’d miss the festivities up here.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “But wouldn’t some warm weather be nice?”

  “We could go in January, after New Year’s,” Mary suggested.

  “That’s a thought,” Jimmy said.

  “Just for a month, to see how we like it,” Mary said.

  Jimmy smiled, nodding. They stood together, their arms around each other’s waist, gazing at the harbor.

  Jimmy saw a mooring that needed checking, a hull that needed caulking. A couple of wharf pilings needed replacing. Icicles hung from the warehouse roof, weakening the gutters. Then his gaze lighted on the Aurora. Solid, lucky boat. A muscle twitched, lifting the left corner of his mouth.

  But now it was time to leave for the church. He took a deep breath, and he and Mary headed for their car.

  Sheila said her Thanksgiving prayers and waited. And waited. She began to feel cross, he was taking so long. She fell asleep, woke up, fell back to sleep in her chair.

  “Eddie,” she muttered, waking herself up.

  And then, there he was. Standing right in front of her. The sight of her husband was enough to make Sheila’s eyes glitter with tears. For this wasn’t the man who had died of a stroke at the age of sixty-seven; this was Eddie aged twenty-seven, dressed for the Blue Moon in a white flannel suit and a straw boater, still the handsomest man Sheila had ever laid eyes on.

  “You’ve come!” she said, struggling to stand up.

  “Shee, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, smiling.

  “The boy’s fine,” Sheila said, leaning back in her chair for just a minute, smiling back at Eddie.

  “You said Cass couldn’t let him go.”

  “Let me show you something,” Sheila said. Her throat had that choked-up, out-of-breath feeling as she pushed herself out of her chair. She crossed the room to Ward’s painting.

  “That’s my girl,” Eddie said, wearing an amazed expression, as if he were proud watching her just walk.

  “Could you give me a hand?” Sheila asked. “It’s behind that painting Ward did. Isn’t that a work of art?”

  “What a talented son he was. Weren’t we lucky to have two such talented sons? Who would have thought Jimmy would run the wharf with such good sense?” Eddie asked, but he made no move to lift the painting from its nail.

  “Eddie? Could you pass it over to me? I want to show you something.”

  “You know I can’t, Sheila.” He checked his pocket watch, a heavy gold one that had been Sheila’s father’s.

  “Then what about that?” she asked, gesturing.

  “Like they say, you can’t take it with you,” he said. “But you do find what you love on the other side. Now come on—you’d better get a move on. We’re stepping out.”

  “Out? You and me?” Sheila asked, her heart fluttering.

  “That’s right. You and me.”

  “Oh, I’d better hurry,” Sheila said. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the painting. She’d shrunk since the last time she’d taken it down; she had to stretch much farther.

  “That’s it,” Eddie said encouragingly.

  This was her time? Sheila could hardly believe what Eddie was saying to her. Would he take her away and not bring her back? Would Eddie, dapper and fine, escort her to the other side as she was now, with white hair and cataracts, and could she expect to keep him?

  “Eddie, tell me straight out,” she said, blinking at him, trying to clear her blurry vision. “Are you here to tell me I’m going to die?”

  He nodded his head. He seemed hardly able to contain his happiness. “Yes. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Will you be with me?”

  “Forever.”

  “Then I’m not afraid.” Sheila sat in her chair and removed from its envelope the telegram informing them of Ward’s death.

  “The worst news we ever got,” Eddie said, his voice thick.

  Sheila sighed, handing the paper to Eddie. “I couldn’t protect Ward, but I helped Billy. I did that for Cass.”

  Eddie read what she had written on the telegram, and then Sheila put it away. She held on to her pearl, in its tiny globe dangling from the chain around her neck, as tight as she could.

  “
I’m ready,” she said again.

  “We’re going to the Blue Moon, my darling,” Eddie said, his voice becoming clearer with every word. “Put on your white dress and that beautiful big hat. You’ll see Patrick and Doreen, and, yes, Sheila, you’ll see Ward. Bring a shawl—the wind’s blowing from the east.”

  “I’m coming, Eddie,” Sheila whispered.

  The bells of Mount Hope rang when wars were won, when sons and daughters of the town married, when children were born. Sometimes the bells were rung for joy. Other times, the bells of Mount Hope rang with sorrow: when fishermen drowned, when hope was lost.

  Cass and Billy stood in the sun-porch door, watching Zach teach Josie some new signs. Suddenly Billy’s eyes looked over their heads, toward the window. He caught Cass’s eye, to see if she’d heard it, too. The Portuguese church bell. It started to ring, and then the bell at Our Lady of Mount Hope started, then the deeper bell at St. Matthew’s Episcopal, until all the bells in town were ringing, drowning out the foghorn at Minturn Ledge.

  “It’s time,” Cass said.

  “Bye, Zach,” Billy said. He and Cass kissed Josie goodbye, as the bells grew louder.

  “I wish I could say something,” Zach said, shrugging. “I’m sorry about the men.”

  “Thanks,” Billy said.

  “Thanks for staying with Josie,” Cass said.

  She and Billy got their dark coats and headed outside. In the driveway, approaching the car, Billy stopped short. He looked at Cass, helplessly.

  “I couldn’t even bring their bodies home,” Billy said. He reached for her; they held each other close. There in the driveway, they stood still, pressed together, listening to the funeral bells. Then they got in their car, and Billy drove toward the harbor.

  Suddenly, Cass became aware of an unusual brightness in the sky. She leaned forward to see where it came from. The air seemed awash with particles of gold burnishing the mid-morning blue sky. “What’s that light?” Cass asked.

  “I don’t know,” Billy said. “Reminds me of skies I’ve seen offshore. Sunset skies.” But it was nine-thirty in the morning.

  Billy rounded the corner for Minturn Ledge Light. To Cass, the light was nothing like a sunset. It wasn’t a bank of golden clouds or a streak of orange in the western sky. It was diffused through the entire sky, the air itself, and the golden light grew more concentrated as they neared her parents’ house.