The Girl Who Chased the Moon: A Novel - By Sarah Addison Allen Page 0,33
count for something, his interest in her. “Do all these kids go to the same school?” she asked.
“Some are summer lake residents who leave in the fall,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Some are permanent residents who, yes, go to school here.”
“Mullaby High?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be a senior there in the fall.”
“I know. I will, too.” He ran both his hands through his dark wet hair, slicking it back. It almost made her breath catch. “Not that it isn’t nice to see you again, but I have to ask: What are you doing here?”
“Here?” she asked. “You mean at this party?”
“Yes.”
“Trying to blend in.”
“It’s not working. Prepare yourself.”
“For what?” And no sooner did she ask than a dark-haired girl in an orange bathing suit came to a stop beside Win.
“You’re Emily Benedict, aren’t you?” she asked, with the same combination of aversion and curiosity Win had had the first day she’d met him, but with a little more bite.
“Yes,” Win said before Emily could. “Emily, this is my sister, Kylie.”
“You weren’t invited,” Kylie said bluntly. “You’re going to ruin my party.”
“I … I came with Ingrid,” Emily said, feeling a hot prickle of embarrassment.
“You should leave.”
Win finally took his eyes off Emily to give a look of censure to his sister. “Kylie, stop being rude.”
“I’m not being rude. I’m serious. She should leave.” Kylie pointed over her shoulder. Win turned to see that the big man, the master of ceremonies, had left the grill and was slowly making his way toward them.
Win cursed. “Let’s go.” He took Emily by the arm and together they skirted the party, following the tree line. When they reached the regular part of the beach, Win stopped once they were out of sight of the grotto.
She rubbed her arm where he’d held it. The place where he’d touched her felt warm. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little taken aback at how fast that had happened. “I didn’t know it was a private party.”
They faced each other on the crowded beach, hot summer noise humming around them. “It’s not.”
It took a moment to sink in. It wasn’t a private party. That meant she wasn’t welcome. Just her. “Oh.”
“Has your grandfather told you yet?” Win asked, seemingly out of the blue.
“Told me what?”
“About your mother and my uncle. That’s what that was all about.” He nudged his chin back toward the grotto.
Confused as to why being kicked out of the party had anything to do with her mother and his uncle, she said, “Actually, I was hoping to run into you again so I could ask. You said next time I saw you you’d tell me.”
“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