The Moon Tells Secrets (11 page)

“Like Luna?”

“Yeah, one of the many things they had in common. Nothing was out of bounds for those two, nothing. Did Luna tell you that she was the one who found us that night?”

“No,” I said, remembering the way Luna's hand shook when she held the teacup, of the way she'd tried to hide it from herself as much as from me.

“They never found the killer?”

“No.”

“Or clues?”

“Only thing left that I don't remember ever seeing before was this … artifact that must have belonged to Dennie. She must have just bought it.” Cade leaned forward, facing me now. “It must have had something to do with her work, some kind of charm or something, but not for good luck. At least not for Dennie.”

“I think I saw it that day in the office. It looked like a piece of a claw?”

“Yeah. Ever seen anything like that from your husband's people?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

It leaves a part of itself behind. Something to mark its victory.

It must have been looking for us and stumbled upon Dennie. How had it known we'd be there months before we came? The sun was hot but I felt a stab of cold deep within me. And that was when I saw her, coming down the street, strolling like she had all the time in the world. The sun picked up the blackness of her hair, the glimmer of silver earrings in her ears. Or was it my imagination, seeing Anna where she shouldn't be? Did she live in a spectral world, trying to warn me like she always had, even from her grave?

“I need to go home,” I said too loudly, too abruptly.

Cade's surprised glance turned apologetic. “I'm sorry, scaring you with all this craziness. Raine, I … was looking forward to spending this time with you.…”

The catch in his voice, the tenderness held me, softening my fear. “Cade … I…”

“Please. It's been so long since I've talked to anybody about anything. Other teachers don't want to hear it. My friends—our old friends, mine and Dennie's—seem to have quietly disappeared. Luna, well, talking about Dennie tears her apart, too. Would you believe this is the first time I've been out, sat down over coffee with a friend just to talk since Dennie died? Pathetic, isn't it?”

I looked to where she'd been, but the woman was gone. Maybe she had never been. A smile came to my lips, albeit a reluctant one. His words had come easily and without thought, and there was kindness in both his eyes and voice. Except for Mack, who was nearly as old as my grandfather, no man had spoken to me with such warmth in a long time. Too often there was a smack of lewdness to the remarks, an awkward request for a date, unwelcome comments about my appearance. A real date? I hadn't been on a date once since Elan's death. And this was a date, I realized. Despite what both of us had thought.

“It's been eleven years for me,” I said. “To really talk about … things that are important. To listen to someone else. Eleven years. Now,
that's
pathetic!” We both laughed at that, self-consciously, and I remembered how easy it had been to laugh with him that first day in his kitchen, and I'd hardly known him then. There had been an ease between us that I assumed came from Davey's presence; I knew now it was more.

“But why so long? You're such a beautiful woman, Raine.”

“Well … I don't know. I guess … I'm not that beautiful to everybody.”

“Now, I can't believe that!”

“And I can't believe that you were once a wild man!”

“I'll have to show you pictures sometime. Me bummed out on weed, bourbon.” He glanced down again, the glimmer of something I couldn't read in his eyes.

“I guess a lot of my being alone is my own fault. I've been … trying to raise Davey on my own. It's hard being a single mom. Traveling so much.” I hadn't meant to let that slip out, but it had.

“A lot of the kids in my class have parents who are divorced or separated, but they still get out, go on dates. But they don't travel. I know I'm getting into dangerous territory here, but to be honest, I've been wondering about that, why you don't stay in one place. Do you think Davey's okay with it?”

“He's fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

“Every time I ask him something about school next year, he won't look me in the eye. Maybe he thinks he's weird because he hasn't been anyplace long enough to put down roots.”

“You
are
in dangerous territory,” I said, biting the biscotti so I wouldn't have to say more.

He nodded as if he understood. “Maybe another time we can talk about that? Maybe over dinner or something?”

“Yeah.” I wished it were true, that it would be as simple as that, to meet a man like Cade, go out for dinner and a drink, forget everything that I'd been living. Maybe there was that chance once. But not now. “I need to be getting back to Luna's. She's watching Davey, and—”

“More dangerous territory,” he said, half-joking. “Davey is eleven. He's really old enough to watch himself. Maybe he needs to be on his own more. You don't want to overprotect him. Boys need room—believe me, I know.”

“Yeah.” Half an answer because I heard him but hadn't. We finished up our coffee slowly, and as we headed out, Cade touched my hand again in the gentle way he had, and I felt something else, too, a tingling inside me, like I'd felt when Elan touched me that first time. How could that be so? Should I let myself feel it?

“Dinner? No Davey? No Luna, just us?”

“Okay,” I said, but my heart was beating fast because I was admitting to myself for the first time since I'd been here, how attracted I was to him, and that I knew he felt the same. I could see it in his eyes, shy yet strangely bold, and the way he touched me when he really didn't need to. Things had changed between us, subtly but certainly, and I wasn't sure where they would go from here. It was time for the “now” moments I allowed myself, with this man in a Starbucks, of all places, and if nothing else happened between us, I could look back on this day for as long as I needed to.

“Ready to go.” He offered his hand, and I took it, aware of the feel of it, the softness of his palm, the mild shock that wasn't one, the “electricity” they talk about in love songs. I let myself enjoy it, the intertwining of our fingers that neither of us expected.

It was then that I heard it. The sound of its paws on the sidewalk.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
It came closer. Next to the flowerpots, nearer to our table. Past the teenagers with their coffee, stopping to sniff the air. I held Cade's hand tight, closed my eyes, wanting to make it disappear. But it was upon us before I knew it. Nuzzling. Pushing its way between us. Licking my hand that was free.

I screamed, snatched my hand from its jaws, brought it close to my breast.

Cade held my other hand, leaned toward me, whispering, “Raine. It's just a dog!”

“No!”

“Raine, look.” He bent down, and it turned toward him, ignoring me. He whistled low between his teeth, calling it toward him like it was a pet, and the thing looked up at him as Cade stroked its fur. It licked his hand, but turned its eyes toward me.

“Look, he's friendly,” Cade said, and I wanted him to be right that it was just a dog. A stray escaped from someone's yard. It was acting that way, trotting around in a circle, waiting to be petted or scratched behind its ears. A black Labrador, big enough to stand on its hind legs and reach your throat.

“Don't touch it!” I said, still afraid, but Cade ignored me.

“Probably a stray. Could be that dog that was doing so much howling the other night. Did Davey mention it to you? It scared him, he said.”

I let Cade's hand go and stepped away from him and from it, searching for what I knew was there.

Something doesn't come back like it should, a nose looks like a snout, all wet and thick and nasty; an eye bigger than it should be that can't be kept closed, claws tipping fingers instead of nails, something will tell you, but you got to see it, Raine, and when you do, take that boy and run for all you're worth. Don't leave a clue behind.

It was the eyes this time. Yellow. Strangely human but dead and empty, pupils round and black, with no expression, like looking into death itself. It went for my hand, quick and fierce like an animal would, white teeth sharp and needle thin, bending backwards—a shark's teeth made for ripping and tearing.

Protecting me, Cade jumped in its way, and it backed away. Startled, it growled, gazed around the space, sniffing behind me. It was looking for Davey, but it was waiting its time, patiently like always. And then it turned, nice dog again, sat at Cade's feet as if he were its master, and that frightened me more than anything I could think of.

Yet Cade was as surprised as me. “Go! Get out of here!” he yelled, stepping in front of me.

And it whined as if wounded and slunk away, tail between its legs. I didn't realize I was shaking until Cade pulled me close to him, and I felt my trembling body against his strong one.

“Hey, Raine. You okay?” I nodded that I was, but my head barely moved. “I'll call animal control when I get home and have it picked up. It's a stray. Probably harmless, but it shouldn't have gone after you like it did. Hey—”

I was shaking so hard, I couldn't talk.

“Calm down! It's over. The dog is gone.” He hugged me and I let myself fit into his body, safe.

“I need to leave,” I said.

Neither of us spoke on the way home. Him, puzzled by my actions, and me, lost in thoughts I couldn't share.

 

8

cade

It was early when Cade dropped Raine off at Luna's, and he didn't know what to do with himself; her presence wouldn't leave him. Luna had asked if he wanted to come in, sit around, have some tea, but he refused. He didn't want to lose the feeling Raine had left him with, that touch of teenage giddiness he hadn't felt since Dennie died. He wanted the afternoon to stay untouched in his mind, let it linger as long as it could. But when he came into his house—into its loneliness and silence—he wondered if he should have taken Luna up on her offer—sat awhile, chatted about nothing, made sure Raine was okay, even though the closer to home they'd gotten, the stronger she seemed. He was still puzzled by her reaction to the dog, the trembling that overtook her.

He hoped he hadn't made a fool of himself, begging her to stay and talk as he had, despite her obvious discomfort. He'd been more concerned with his own feelings than with hers, which must have been clear to her, too. Yet she sat and listened, every word he spoke seeming to touch her as deeply as they once had Dennie. She listened like Dennie, too, all heart and eyes. He never thought anyone could hear him like that again, as if every word stuck in some pocket of her soul. That damn stray had sure shaken her up, though—both her and the boy must be terrified of dogs—and the way the dog snapped at her hands, close to nipping her fingers, had scared him, too. Damn filthy mutt. At some point, he'd ask her why she was so frightened, maybe when they went out again. On the way home, she'd mentioned a movie she wanted to see, and maybe they'd catch it one Sunday. Just thinking about the possibility made him grin.

He called animal control as he promised he would, and after leaving a message about a stray dog that might be vicious, sat down at the kitchen table acutely aware of his aloneness. He considered pouring a drink, then changed his mind. Recalling Raine's words about not being able to imagine him as the wild man he had been made him chuckle in wonder. Wild man and more, that was the truth of it. Not giving a damn about life, love, or limb. Booze, weed, blow—anything he could drink, smoke, or snort to send him into oblivion.

He couldn't remember those days without a burning sense of shame and embarrassment. He'd even dealt drugs for a hot minute when he dropped out of college. Light stuff mostly, weed, no weight. It was sheer luck and good timing that had kept him out of jail; a dozen times he could have landed there easy enough. Hell, the cops knew he was dealing, but he was too slick to get caught. To this day, there were cops out there who still had it in for him, and if he hadn't been at work the day Dennie was murdered, they would have pinned that on him, just out of spite. God, he'd been so young and cocky—nothing could touch him. Even his old man's death wasn't enough to stop him from drinking, even when the insurance money got him back in school. One snowy night he'd run his truck off Route 17, damn near killed himself. Lucky for him, he'd been sober enough to make it home. Then he'd met Dennie with her serious, trusting, studious self. It had scared him how closely and quickly she drew him to her.

He'd put up a fight at first, running as fast as he could, back to the women who followed him around, panties falling around their ankles, and he smiled for an instant, remembering how Raine had laughed at the words he so thoughtlessly used to describe them. Loose women? What kind of bullshit was that? Like he'd said,
he
was the loose one. Three quarters of them had tender hearts he'd taken no time breaking. To this day, he was half-scared he'd run into some woman with a .45 tucked in her bag, determined to shoot him dead for being such a coldhearted son of a bitch. He'd been terrified he'd find some way to hurt Dennie, too, bring her to her knees, down to his level, but cautiously, effortlessly, she had pulled him up to hers.

He was afraid of Raine the same way, yet it wasn't wildness but grief he feared would touch her. Better for her to leave him alone, let him wallow in his sorry life. Let him come home. Correct some papers. Get drunk. Watch TV. Fall asleep on the couch like he'd been doing for the past year. How could he pull a woman with a vulnerable kid into the dark smelly world he inhabited?

Yet there was still that glimmer of hope, the one even sorrow couldn't snuff out, that Dennie had left burning in his heart. Let her pull you into her world, she would say. Let her pull you into her world like I did.