The Moon Tells Secrets (15 page)

The way he said it touched me because I knew I would have to tell him that we were leaving. But I couldn't tell him why. Not all of it. Never. Davey was still rocking to whatever he was listening to. I caught his eye and winked at him. He looked puzzled, then nodded as if telling me he was okay, too, that everything was going to be okay.

“Mom, what's that on your face?” he said from the backseat, louder than he should because of the earphones.

“Too loud,” Cade said just as loudly, gesturing toward his ears.

“You got black streaks running down your face, Mom.”

“No napkins this time.” As I dug into my bag for a Kleenex, Cade's words and glance told me he remembered when he'd wiped the milk off my chin in the restaurant that first time we had coffee together.

“Were you crying?” Concern was in Davey's voice, and it hurt to hear it. I never wanted him to know I cried.

“No.”

“What, then?”

“Allergies,” I said.

Even Davey didn't believe that; he grimaced in disgust.

Cade threw me an amused look. “Raine, you are one of the most secretive women I've ever met. But I've always loved a mystery.”

Not this one, I thought. You don't want to solve this one. Mack came into my mind again. Everywhere we went, it found us, after months, a year; this time it had been nearly three, but it knew. It had found Mack. He hadn't told it where we were, because he didn't know, and it had killed him. And Dennie? That made no sense at all, except she lived near Luna, and it must have known that, too.

About a week. That's how much time you've got, Raine, so if you're going to go, you best be gone by then.

We'd be long gone by then.

“You all ready to do this thing?” Cade's tone was carefree, but the confidence in his voice saddened me. He'd begun to believe there could be more to us—as a couple with a kid—than would ever be possible.

Run. Run. Run. That was all I knew and that was all I would ever know—get out of here and away from him and the me that had begun to feel again.

“Yeah,” Davey said, as enthusiastic as Cade, as they both climbed out of the car.

“Excuse me, a lady should always have the car door opened for her,” Cade apologized, then came to my door to open it. “One thing to remember, Davey, when you get to that point. Something my dad never taught me.”

“Who taught you?”

“Me,” Cade said as the three of us headed into the fair.

It was crowded, noisy, and filled with color. Red and white balloons bobbed in the air, and yellow streamers were strewn across the branches of trees. The air was filled with the smell of hot dogs grilling, popcorn popping, and funnel cakes frying. Booming music and exuberant laughter seemed to pour in from all corners of the playground. From somewhere a rap group screamed rhymes, a brass band played hit tunes from the '80s, and kids laughed and shouted like they'd lost their minds. The noise and merriment were contagious, and I was swept with a sense of optimism and excitement. It had rained two days before and the ground was still muddy, which seemed to add to the fun of kids who gleefully stamped around grounds filled with booths selling swirly cotton candy and cheap toys. The rides—a pint-sized Ferris wheel, rickety roller coaster, and mechanical swings—were all in need of paint, but nobody cared; lines circled the ticket booths.

“Hey, Mr. Richards, how you doing?” yelled a boy in an oversized T-shirt, hair shaved to his scalp. He was about the same age as Davey and was followed by two other kids, one with an earring in his left ear, the other with a Nets cap like Davey's. “Is this kid your son?” the boy with the earring asked, giving Davey the once-over.

“No, he's a student like you.”

“She his mama?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, kid, what school you go to?” asked the kid in the T-shirt. Stunned, Davey dropped his head.

“You guys here by yourselves?” Sensing Davey's discomfort, Cade shifted attention away from him.

“Nah, my dumb sister's here somewhere,” said the boy with the Nets cap. “Hey, kid, you down with the Nets?”

“Yeah,” Davey said, comfortable on familiar territory.

“Who you listening to?” The boy with the shaved head pointed to the iPod earphones hanging around Davey's neck.

“Nu metal. Papa Roach, Disturbed, Chimaira.”

“Wow, cool.”

I glanced at Cade, who rolled his eyes.

“Want to hang out?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Davey said, trying to be cool, but asking my permission with his eyes.

Cade mouthed he'll be fine, and gave me a nod that said he'd keep an eye on him.

“See you later,” I said as casually as I could.

Papa Roach and the Nets had given Davey a path to normalcy, at least for an afternoon, and I sure wasn't going to take it away. The boys strolled toward a concession stand. Cade bought me a giant wad of yellow cotton candy as we followed discreetly behind them.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a long, distorted mirror in front of a fun house, and cringed at the black smudges on my face and cotton candy that had found its way into my hair. The women's restroom was in a field house close to the fairground, and after Cade promised he'd keep an eye on Davey, I ducked into it. The narrow room was lit by fluorescent bulbs that cast a greenish, surreal light on the checkered floor littered with paper towels and empty soda cans.

As I wiped black smudges off my cheek, a woman came in, ducking quickly into one of the stalls. It was her smell, floating in from somewhere I couldn't place, that caught my attention. Was it Anna's scent? It couldn't be, but I knew I'd smelled it before, after the funeral—pine touched with rosemary, smothered by a mix of wildflowers that only Anna knew how to blend.

Another woman came in then, pretty and plump, accompanied by a child with tightly braided cornrows.

“I hate it when mascara streaks on your face.” She smiled, and I nodded in agreement. She had a quick friendly grin, and when she and the child left, I wanted to leave with them, but something made me linger. I needed to see who this person was who smelled so much like Anna.

When she came out, she took her place at the sink next to mine, avoiding my eyes. Despite the heat, she wore a soiled black raincoat buttoned to the top and covering what looked like a lace blouse. We faced each other in the cracked mirror, she applying powder two shades too light, me dabbing at my cheeks at stains no longer there. When she stopped to search through her pocketbook, I studied her face. Could it be
her
after all this time? Was I seeing someone who wasn't here?

Round eyes, as black and hard as onyx, stared back at me from a bronzed face as old and puckered as a spoiled apple. I scanned her face again, risked staring, then realized there was no resemblance to Anna: the hair was different, as gray as steel but trimmed.

But I could be mistaken, so many years had passed. There was a shimmer of recognition in her eyes, for just a moment, and then a smile, white teeth, sharp and pointed. A wolf's teeth. My heart began to pound. But then, just as quickly, she closed her lips, hiding what I'd seen.

“Doba? Is that you,” I asked her anyway. She didn't move. “How did you find me? How did you know I was here?” I couldn't hide the panic in my voice, the trembling underneath.

“Leave me alone!” Her voice was low, almost a whimper, not at all like Anna's with its strong, mellow tone. But it had been years since Anna's funeral, I couldn't remember how Doba's voice had sounded. I had only seen her once, and written her from time to time. I had to be wrong. Fearful, the woman drew back from the sink. I realized she was as afraid of me as I'd been of her.

“Leave me alone,” she said again, her eyes wide and frightened, not the hard ones I'd seen before. Had I reached the point where I was scaring strangers in a public restroom? I stepped back, not wanting to alarm her. She turned to the mirror, ignoring me now as she patted on more makeup, brushing blusher onto her cheeks until they were a bright garish red. She was a helpless old woman, homeless probably, not seeing reality as it was. My imagination had gotten the better of me.

“Ma'am, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…”

Her smile was fleeting, bashful yet not quick enough to hide the teeth that poked from behind her lips. I hadn't imagined those. What had she done to herself? What craziness had made her file them sharp like that? I thought about my dying grandmother on my father's side, the things she had done to herself near the end—the dresses worn inside out, the hair combed with honey, fingernails filed to a point, like this one had done to her teeth. She'd lived with us only briefly, but I was a child and in her own way so was she. We'd connected as children, what was her name? I'd forgotten, because it was rarely said. Mamie? Melanie?

Poor, sad thing.

Like this one.

As I turned to go, I glimpsed, or thought I did, something on her finger—a twist of gold and silver encircling turquoise found and set for a beloved daughter. The woman jerked her hand below the sink, hiding it from my view. Yet it had been so long ago that I'd seen that ring, that her response could have been one of fear, an attempt to hide a precious gem from someone who frightened her, someone she thought might steal it.

There was chatter outside the door. Loud laughter, louder voices, as two women entered: one tall with short red hair; the other older with streaked gray hair in a short natural. Mother and daughter, I assumed, with their similar looks and easy camaraderie. The woman's eyes darted from me to the women. Was she scrutinizing them for strength? For weakness? Or was she simply curious? Had they made her remember a daughter lost or long gone? She shook her head as if shaking something out and sighed slowly as if puzzled. I left the room before the women could see me trembling.

The sun, blazing and hot, hit me as if forcing truth upon me as I fell against the building, angry at myself for being so suspicious and fearful, puzzled by my own response. Luna's words last night and Mack's death had left me unsure of myself, of reality.

Cade called on my cell phone, his voice relaxed and amused, to make sure he hadn't missed me, and to say that Davey was having a good time. He's fine, don't worry about him so much, he said. It's good for him to be around kids his own age. I detected a critical note in his tone. He'd hinted before that I was overly protective. How could I be anything else? Are you okay, Raine? he said. I could hear the concern in his voice. Fine, I assured him. There's always lines in ladies' rooms. What else could I say, that I'd scared a poor homeless woman because I thought she was somebody I'd seen years ago at a funeral?

The woman came out as I spoke to him, hobbling like she had when she came in, one heel higher than the other, and when she saw me, she stopped and stared, eyes filled with rancor, then disappeared into the crowd.

My cell phone rang again, and Luna's name flashed on the screen.

“You okay?” I could hear anxiety in her voice.

“Fine, how come you asked like that?”

“No reason.”

“Yes, there is.”

“Something in your voice. Tell me what happened.” So I told her the truth about what I'd seen, my self-doubt and the way I'd frightened some poor, harmless woman.

“So who did you think she was?”

“Anna's cousin. Doba.”

“Now, that's strange,” Luna said, pausing between each word. “Right after you left, a woman rang my bell looking for you and Davey, said she'd come by because not many people have the last name Loving, and that was your name before you married. Said she was related to Davey, second cousin, and needed to tell you something.”

“Did you tell her where we were?” My heart rolled in my chest, beating fast like it had when the woman shuffled into the restroom, like it had when the dog nibbled at my hand outside of Starbucks.

“No. But she did wait in the back for a while, said she'd spotted that swing from the street and hadn't swung in one since she was a girl, asked if she could sit in it for a spell. Struck me as a little odd, but I didn't see any harm in it, since she said she was kin to the boy. Said she just needed to get off her feet and admire my garden. I went back inside, and heard the swing creaking when she sat down.”

“Did you let her in the house?”

“No, she went through the bushes in the back.”

“How did she look?”

“Well-dressed. Fresh-pressed white suit. You know what she did have, though, was a ring like those earrings you have. Held it up so I could take a look at it. Didn't have a thumb, poor thing. Lost it in an accident, she said. You can't do much in life without a thumb. That's why I noticed the ring.”

“Is she still there?”

“No. Sat in the swing a minute or two, then left.”

“You get a sense of people, don't you?”

She paused before she spoke. Luna could be as secretive about her gift as Davey was about his. “Sometimes.”

“What did you get from her?”

“It doesn't work like that, Raine. I've got to touch a person, stand close before I can tell. And there was a screen door and a foot of space between us. She didn't let me get that close. She just went around the back and sat on the back porch, like I said.”

If it
was
Doba, she had seen Davey at Mack's that day, and in the church. But he was taller and stronger than he was then, and with a man and a bunch of kids she didn't know. Or maybe I had the whole thing wrong. Maybe she had sought me out to give a warning, to tell me that whatever was after us was getting closer. To let me know that I had to leave and find another place to hide. Maybe she knew how to kill it. At Anna's funeral there had been that uncle whose name nobody would speak. Was he the thing that stalked us?

Don't trust nobody. Not family. Not friend.

I pasted on a carefree smile when I joined Cade by the Ferris wheel and closed my eyes as it creaked upward into the sky. Evening was coming, and the fair was lit with red and yellow lights that sparkled everywhere. I spotted Davey at one of the games, throwing a ball through a hoop as his newfound posse, as Cade called them, cheered him on. When we reached the top, Cade kissed me sweet and tenderly, and I snuggled close, enjoying his body squeezed next to mine, the softness of his lips.