The Girl Who Chased the Moon

“I did say that, didn’t I? ‘Next time’ seemed so far away.” Win hesitated before he said, “My uncle committed suicide when he was a teenager.”

She wasn’t expecting that, and didn’t know how to respond. The best she could come up with was “I’m sorry.”

“He did it because of your mother.”

She felt a jolt of alarm. She suddenly thought of the initials on the tree. D.S. + L.C.

Dulcie Shelby and Logan Coffey.

“They were in love,” Win said, watching her closely. “Or, he was in love with her. His family didn’t want him to be with her, but he went against their wishes, against years of tradition. Then your mother turned around and broke his heart, like what he did, what he sacrificed, didn’t matter.”

Emily was desperately trying to make sense of this. “Hold on. Are you saying you blame my mother for his death?”

“Everyone blames her, Emily.”

“What do you mean, everyone?” She could hear her voice rising.

Win noticed, too. He adjusted the waistband of his swim trunks, then settled his hands on his lean hips. “I’m sorry. I should have thought how to say that in a nicer way. This is a little harder than I thought it would be.”

“Than you thought what would be?” she demanded. “Convincing me that my mother was responsible for your uncle’s suicide? I have news for you, my mother was a wonderful person. She would never do anything if she thought it was going to hurt another person. Never.”

Win suddenly looked over his shoulder, as if sensing something about to happen. “My dad is still looking for me. Come this way.” He took her hand and led her away from the water, toward the pine trees.

Her bare feet kicked up sand as she jogged to keep up with him. “Where are we going?”

“Out of sight,” he said, the moment she stepped onto the cool, pine-needle floor. The smell of rosin was strong. It reminded her of Christmas wreaths and red glass ornaments. It was a completely different world, a completely different season, than just a few steps away at the lake.

“I don’t have shoes on,” she said, pulling him to a stop.

He turned to her. “You seem to find yourself without shoes in the woods a lot.”

She wasn’t amused. “Why are you doing this?”

“Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me do what?” She threw her hands in the air, frustrated.

“Adjust.”

She scoffed at him, because if adjusting to this place meant believing what he said about her mother, she was never going to adjust.

Before she could turn to go back to the beach, he said, “Okay, here are the basics. Your mother was known to be spoiled and cruel. My uncle was gullible and shy. She used his feelings for her to trick him into revealing a long- held Coffey family secret to the entire town, just because she could. Then she turned her back on him. Devastated that he’d lost her and hurt his family, he killed himself. She left town without so much as an apology. I know it’s hard to hear. But this might go a long way in explaining why people here act… a certain way around you.”

“Act what way?”

His dark, arched brows rose. “You haven’t noticed yet?”

Emily hesitated.

“You have noticed.”

She shook her head. She was angry at him for saying these things, but she was even angrier at herself for actually standing there and listening. “You didn’t know my mother. I knew my mother. She would never turn her back on anyone.”

Win’s eyes went soft and sympathetic. It was clear he was sorry she was hurt by his words, but he didn’t look sorry that he’d said them in the first place. This was what he meant by the two of them having history?

“Why should I trust you, anyway?” she challenged him. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

He shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t. You probably shouldn’t have anything to do with me. I’m surprised your grandfather hasn’t told you to stay away from me already. He will soon, though. Mark my words.”

The wind picked up for a moment, brushing the treetops. A cascade of pine needles, both green and brown, suddenly fell down around them. Emily watched Win through the swarming needles, a peculiar enchantment coming over her. Who was this strange boy? What did he want from her?

“What secret did your uncle reveal?” she found herself asking.

He took a long time to answer, as if warring with himself. His lips finally lifted into a cynical smile, breaking the spell. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He gladly shared some secrets, yet he wouldn’t reveal his own. She should have no trouble casting aside anything someone so disingenuous would say. But still it lingered in her mind. And that made her furious.

She turned stiffly and walked back to the lake. Back to summer.

She made her way across the beach to where Julia was sitting cross-legged on her towel, reading a book. Sawyer was stretched out at her feet like a large marmalade cat.

Julia looked up when Emily’s shadow fell over her. “Emily? What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her book aside.

“Nothing. I’d like to go home, if that’s okay.” She suddenly, desperately, wanted to talk to her grandfather. He was her one true connection to her mother. He would tell her that what Win said was a lie.

Sawyer sat up. He took off his sunglasses. “You look upset,” he said.

“I’m fine.” She tacked on a smile for good measure.

“My sister was rude to her. I apologize.” Win’s voice behind her made her turn. She wasn’t aware that he’d been following her. He met her eyes, his expression troubled.

Sawyer stood. For someone so beautiful, he could certainly be imposing when he got angry. He was as tall as Win, but much bigger. “What did she say that upset Emily?”

Before Win could answer, Julia said, “That was your party?”

“My sister’s birthday party.”

“Jesus,” she said, grabbing her bag and quickly stuffing it with their towels, her book, and her water bottle. She stood. “I didn’t know. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

“I can take her,” Win said. “It’s on my way, and I need to be home before sunset anyway.” He held out his hand and, without thinking, Emily took it. She immediately came to her senses and tried to take it back, but he held firm. His hand was warm and dry, like he’d just taken off a glove.

“I’m taking her home,” Julia said.

“It would be no trouble.”

Sawyer took a step forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Win.”

Win stared at Emily for a moment before saying, “That does seem to be the consensus.” He finally let go of her hand. She missed the contact. It was crazy.

Julia put her arm around her and led her away. “Come on.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” Sawyer called after them.

“No.” Julia paused, looking back at him. Then she added, “But thanks.”

Julia and Emily walked across the beach and to the parking lot in silence. When they climbed into the truck, the black seats hot from the sun, Julia immediately put the key in the ignition. As much as Emily didn’t want to believe it, Julia’s reaction was giving some credence to what Win had told her.

“Win said his uncle committed suicide because of my mother,” Emily blurted out.

Julia started the engine. She obviously didn’t want to comment.

“That’s not true, is it?”

“Whether it’s true or not, he shouldn’t have told you,” Julia said, turning to her and touching her arm.

Emily almost came undone. She liked the maternal way Julia treated her, but it was just too much right now. “He said she was cruel,” she said, taking her hand away.

That made Julia wince a little. “This is something your grandfather has to tell you. Not me. And certainly not Win.” Julia stared at her a moment, her sympathy, her genuine desire to make things all better, clear in her every pore. “It took me a long time to realize this: We get to choose what defines us. It doesn’t make a lot of sense right