The Girl Who Chased the Moon

I just kept checking. I don’t know why. It’s not like I ever find anything. But it makes me think of her. And when I get worried or anxious about something, I go check, just in case she wants to tell me something.”

“I think that’s sweet, Grandpa Vance,” Emily said. “I wish I’d known her.”

“I do, too. She would have liked you.”

They said good night at the staircase, and Vance went back into his room. Emily made it halfway up the staircase before she stopped. She hesitated, then walked back down and went to the laundry room.

She studied the dryer for a moment, even going so far as to lean over it to see what was behind it. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand went to the handle and she quickly opened the door, jumping back as if something inside might fly out at her.

She cautiously peered in. Nothing was there.

She almost laughed at herself as she walked out. What had possessed her to do that?

What sign was she looking for?

HOURS LATER Emily slowly opened her eyes, not sure what had awakened her. She took a deep breath. When she exhaled, in her sleep-addled mind, the air came out as blue as smoke. She stared at the ceiling and it gradually came to her. Something was wrong. The room was normally brighter than this.

When she’d gone to sleep, light from the moon was shining in through the open balcony doors, sending rays as pale as cream into the room. She turned her head on the pillow to see that the balcony doors she’d left open were now closed, and the curtains had been drawn over them.

Her heart suddenly gave a single hard thud of surprise and her scalp tightened, which felt like every hair was on end. Someone had been in her room. She reached under her pillow and turned off her MP3 player, then she slowly sat up on her elbows.

She knew it was him. His presence felt different, different from anyone she’d ever known. She could feel the lingering warmth of him still in the air.

She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and got up and went quickly to the light switch. When she flicked it on, the chandelier bathed the room in cobwebby light.

But no one was there.

From across the room, she saw a piece of paper peeking out from the curtains. The twin doors had been shut with a note tucked between them. She hurried over and pulled the note out.

I’m sorry I had to leave the festival. I didn’t want to. Will you spend the day with me? Meet me on the boardwalk at Piney Woods Lake this morning.

– Win.

Emily immediately swung open the doors and stepped out on the balcony, looking around.

“Win?”

Nothing. The only sounds were the katydids and the papery rustling of leaves in the wind.

Her heart was still thumping, heavy and fast, but not so much from fear now as an incredible sense of anticipation. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything like this. It had been months since she’d looked forward to anything-food, birthdays, weekends. He made her remember how it felt.

The edge of her nightgown was fluttering against her legs, and the air around her was charged with energy. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to let go of this feeling.

A few minutes later, she heard an engine turn over. The lights of Julia’s truck, parked at the curb in front of her house, suddenly sprang to life. Emily watched the truck pull away and drive down the street.

She guessed she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t going to sleep that night.

Chapter 12

When Sawyer opened the door to his townhouse, he was irritated, as anyone would be if they were forced out of bed at dark-thirty by the incessant ringing of a doorbell. The neighborhood had better be on fire.

The door flew open and hit the wall as he flicked on the porch light.

Julia took her hand away from the doorbell, and the grating shriek inside his house immediately stopped.

He blinked a few times. “Julia?” he asked, just to be sure.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Now?” He wasn’t at his best.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, now.”

He took a good long look at her. She hadn’t changed clothes. She was wearing the same faded jeans and embroidered white peasant blouse she’d been wearing at the festival. He should have stayed there with her, but he’d been angry. She thought he only wanted a piece of her, that he would accept a fling. While he’d certainly had his share of flings, most of which he’d greatly enjoyed, he wanted to be nobler than that with Julia. And she wouldn’t let him. “Are you drunk?” he asked.

“No, I am not drunk. I’m mad.”

“Oh, good, because for a moment there I thought it was going to be something unusual.” He stepped back. “Come in.” It was an automatic gesture. He didn’t think anything of it until she walked past him into his darkened living room. That’s when it hit him. She was in his house. Exactly where he wanted her to be. And he had no idea what to do next.

The only light came from his kitchen, where he kept the hood light over his oven on at night. She looked around, nodding slightly to herself, as if his space was exactly what she expected it to be, like there was a fine, crisp scent of privilege here that she didn’t like.

“Is this about the big thing you wanted to tell me?” he asked, slightly afraid that it was. One big thing left to tell him, and then she wouldn’t want anything more to do with him?

She turned to face him, her brows lowered. “What?”

“Last week, you gave me a cake, told me you started baking because of me, then said there was some big thing you were going to tell me later. Is this later?”

“No, this has nothing to do with that. Why would I be mad about that?”

He sighed. “I don’t know, Julia. When it comes to you, it’s all guesswork.”

She began to pace. “I was fine here until you went all humble on me. And you almost had me, too. I almost trusted you.” She made a scoffing sound. “And you accuse me of being conniving.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you said today.”

He rubbed the side of his face. The blond stubble of his beard made a scratchy sound. “Refresh my memory.”

“You said that I’m only letting you in because I’m planning to leave. And then you walked away from me.”

“Ah.” He let his hand drop. “That.”

“I wasn’t saying that at all, which I would have told you if you’d stuck around. But it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t what I meant. Because, so what?”

He was beginning to think it wasn’t his sleepy mind after all. She really was making no sense. “Excuse me?”

“So what if I was only letting you in because I’m planning to leave. Why would that matter to you? You’ve been trying to get into my pants ever since I came back, and you were going to let something like my leaving get in your way? It didn’t get in your way last time.”

His head suddenly felt hot. She’d struck a nerve. “For the record, you know as well as I do that I could get into your pants at any time.” He took a step toward her, so close his chest grazed her breasts. “Because I know exactly how to do that.”