Moonstone (2 page)

Raceda had a small downtown business district near the waterfront, but all of the housing was north of downtown, past the old lumberyards and far enough from the fish-processing warehouses to escape the stench. Joy pulled off the highway one exit before her mom’s. She made a loop through downtown to check in on her old favorite haunts. Most of the buildings were unchanged, but several storefronts had switched hands. Handlebar Toys with the rusty tricycle propping open the front door and BJ’s Ice Cream remained as bookends on the main drag. Ranger Clothing and Colliers Drugstore had both closed, replaced respectively with a different clothing store and a real estate office. Joy slowed in front of Caketown Doughnuts when the car in front of her tried to parallel park. Caketown’s neon “D” no longer lit up, so the sign in the window now flashed “onuts.”

Wates Bridge was a shortcut from downtown to the old neighborhood where she’d grown up, and her mom’s townhome complex was just beyond that. She drove through her old neighborhood, passed her old high school, now trimmed in blue instead of green, and then had to stop at a red light at the intersection for the community pool. There was a new statue of a whale’s fin in front of the pool’s parking lot. The fin, crusted with barnacles and draped with algae, jutted ten feet above a granite slab cut to resemble a cresting wave. To the left of the towering fin was the sign for the pool. Eighteen years later and the sign was unchanged. She’d gotten the job of painting the bubble letters “Raceda Community Pool.” The paint was chipped now and in sore need of a touch-up. The sign seemed to mock her. Of course she’d come back to Raceda. No matter how many years had passed, the town had waited for her. Joy stared at the sign long enough to miss the light turning to green. The car behind her honked and she stepped on the gas.

* * *

Eighteen Years Ago

Joy heard the door creak and then familiar footsteps. She didn’t look up to see who had come in. For as long as she could remember, she’d made a game of trying to guess people by the sound of their footsteps. This one was easy. Kelsey was the only lifeguard who shuffled in flip-flops. And shift change was every thirty minutes. In the two years that they’d guarded together, Kelsey had never been late. This time she was one minute early.

“Did the Mama and Me Class finish already?”

Kelsey nodded. She went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. “They have ice cream planned and the kiddos scooted out of the water faster than I’ve ever seen toddlers move.” She pinched up her face as she swallowed a sip of the juice. “This is their last class. Too bad, huh?”

Joy smiled at Kelsey’s sarcasm. “Don’t worry. There’s a new session starting in two weeks.”

“Something to look forward to.” Kelsey balanced on one leg like a crane, her bare foot tucked behind her knee as she tugged off her ankle band, then she deftly slipped her toes back into her flip-flop. Her red running shorts showed off almost too long a length of perfectly sculpted muscles. She’d been away for spring break at a swim program in Sacramento and her skin had tanned to bronze. Since she’d come back, Joy had found it hard not to stare at her. Unfortunately, there was no sign that Kelsey noticed her. They worked together. That was it. Kelsey set the ankle band down in front of Joy and then leaned against the counter. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s only a headache. I woke up late and didn’t have time to stop for Tylenol.” She sighed. “One more toddler screech out there and I was sure I was gonna lose it.”

Joy guessed that the headache was only part of the story. A group from the swim team met on Sunday nights at Mad River Beach. Apparently someone had a way to get their hands on enough alcohol to get everyone buzzed. That was the story Joy had overheard at swim practice. She’d yet to have even a sip of alcohol and partly envied Kelsey’s hangover. She wanted to know what a buzz felt like. Her parents didn’t even keep wine around and chances were she’d need to wait until she was of legal age to ever experience a hangover. There was no way she’d get an invite to a Sunday at Mad River—not that she’d want to hang out with anyone who went to Mad River anyway. Except maybe Kelsey.

“I’ve got some aspirin in my locker,” Joy volunteered. “Want to keep an eye on things while I run and grab it for you?”

“I think the pounding will pass if I down enough orange juice. It’s better already just closing my eyes. But I wouldn’t mind some earplugs before the water aerobics teacher blasts the stereo.”

“Sorry. No earplugs.” Joy reached for a whistle, picking her favorite yellow one from the pile on the counter.

“You don’t have to rush out there. No one will be in the pool until water aerobics starts in ten minutes and Andrew’s on deck anyway.”

Joy had picked out her ankle band but set it back on the counter next to Kelsey’s. She didn’t mind an excuse to wait to put it on. The elastic itched and she’d gotten a rash from the plastic sensor rubbing her skin. If the sensor got wet an alarm was triggered to signal that a guard had dived in for a rescue. The alarm was ear piercing when it sounded and since the pool was enclosed on all sides by cement blocks, the noise bounced from one wall to the next like an echo on steroids.

“Oh, and you might want to avoid the back hallway. The kids were throwing their wet suits at each other while their moms gossiped in the locker room. They’re running loose between the showers and the bathrooms. I have to pee but I’m going to hold it until they clear out.” Kelsey sank down on the seat Joy had left. “By the way, Andrew hasn’t gotten the hot tub working yet. I think I can see a rubber ducky jammed behind the filter. He thinks it’s a pair of goggles. Whatever it is, it’s clogged up the whole system.”

“A rubber ducky? The fun never stops around here.”

“Lifeguarding at Raceda Community Pool—what a blast,” Kelsey said, her sarcasm evident.

“Totally.” Joy grinned. She was comfortably chatting with Kelsey and hadn’t said anything stupid yet. Unbelievable, she thought. The last time they’d exchanged more than a hello was sophomore year when they’d been in the same English class. Kelsey had asked her a question about a homework assignment and Joy had barely managed to answer in a full sentence. Worse, she’d given Kelsey the wrong page numbers to read. Since then, Joy had avoided any chance at looking like an idiot, which meant she never talked around Kelsey. For someone who’d been pegged as a nerd since the third grade by Andrew O’Reilly, becoming friends with one of the cool kids wasn’t possible. Thick-rimmed glasses and spelling bee wins had sealed her fate.

Kelsey was the swim team captain and had been in the cool kid group since middle school. She ate lunch in the quad with a group of girls who all wore designer jeans and boasted about trust funds. Even the cheerleaders wanted in on that crowd. But Kelsey was different from the others. For one thing, she always smiled and said hello. Maybe it wasn’t much, but most everyone else whispered if Joy was within earshot and then glanced quickly away if she looked over at them. Some would point with their eyebrows or nod in her direction. If they thought she’d noticed, they’d cover with some comment about how her darker skin tones looked good against the orange and teal team swimsuit.

Joy changed in the corner of the locker room and avoided eye contact. She was always the first one in the water and the last one out. She belonged in the water even if she didn’t fit in anywhere else. But in a few months she’d be out of Raceda for good. Maybe that was why she wasn’t stumbling over her words with Kelsey now. She didn’t care who she impressed. Or didn’t.

“Only four more months and we’re out of here,” Kelsey said, as if guessing Joy’s thoughts. “No more screaming toddlers, no more scooping birthday cake out of the pool…I’m not sure I’ll miss this place.” She glanced over at Joy. “I heard you decided on Cal. You know that means we’re gonna be rivals.”

Joy wondered how Kelsey knew. She hadn’t told anyone at school, but news traveled fast in Raceda. “I’m not going there for sports,” she managed, uneasy with Kelsey’s eyes on her. “I’m not even trying out for the swim team.”

“Why not?” Kelsey took another gulp of her orange juice and then set the jug on the counter. “Berkeley’s got a great team.”

“Exactly. I’m not that good. The only reason I had a spot on our team is because I swim butterfly. No one else wanted the two-hundred-meter fly. Everyone on our team thinks butterfly is a pain in the ass and it sure isn’t sexy.” Joy wished she could swallow back the word “sexy.” It was too late to hope that Kelsey hadn’t noticed. She’d looked over at her and the corner of her lips had been edged with a smile.

“Not sexy? I don’t know about that,” Kelsey said. “I’ve seen guys watching you in the pool.”

“After the third lap, they’re only watching to see if I’m gonna sink.”

“You took first in both of your races in Rockridge and Sac, then got us a length ahead in that last relay. And Coach always pencils you in as my backup for the two-hundred free. No one thinks you’re gonna sink.”

“I’m only penciled in because the coach knows you’d never need a backup.” Joy didn’t ask why Kelsey had watched her races or remembered the wins though both questions popped to mind. “Anyway, there’ll be plenty of people ready to sign up for butterfly at Berkeley.”

“I think you should try out for the team. What do you have to lose?”

Pride? Joy answered silently. She shook her head. Unlike Kelsey, she wasn’t on track for the Olympics. She was on track for optometry school. “I need to focus on my classes. It’s easy to ace tests here without studying, but Berkeley…I’m already nervous.”

“I bet you could swing the swim team and good grades. Me on the other hand—I don’t need perfect grades. Just fast times.” Kelsey shook her head. “Swimming is my way out of this town.”

“And good grades are mine.”

“Well, good luck to both of us then, I guess.” Kelsey grinned. “May we never end up back in Raceda.”

Joy had to glance away from Kelsey’s gaze. She eyed the clock. “The water aerobics teacher is gonna be jogging through the front door any second. I’m going to turn down the stereo’s volume setting before she gets here.”

“You think she won’t notice?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Joy said. “Otherwise, let me know if you change your mind about the aspirin.”

Kelsey smiled appreciatively. She reached for the attendance clipboard and slid a new sheet of paper into place, then tucked the sign-in pencil behind her ear. Kelsey was the only girl in their senior class with short hair. She’d cut her hair at the start of the school year and around that same time began outpacing all the boys on their swim team. The short cut made it hard not to stare at her earrings—three dotted each ear. She kept the earrings on even when she swam at meets. Joy wondered if she’d take out the earrings when she swam at Stanford. She’d landed a full scholarship for swimming and maybe they would make her take out the earrings as part of the deal. Joy realized that she’d probably never know. When they both left for college, they’d likely never see each other again. Maybe she could have been friends with Kelsey in some alternate universe, but not in Raceda. She didn’t envy that Kelsey was one of the cool kids. That was just a matter of fact. Some people were nerds, some people weren’t. What was amazing was that they’d had a completely normal conversation and Joy hadn’t managed to say one stupid thing. Except “sexy.”

Joy turned back to the counter when she realized she’d forgotten her ankle band. She leaned around Kelsey’s chair to reach for the band. The back of her hand brushed the orange juice bottle and Kelsey lunged for it at the same moment that Joy did. They caught each other’s hands instead of the bottle and Kelsey locked her gaze on Joy. One millisecond passed and they only stared at each other. By the time Joy pulled her hand back it was too late. Juice surged onto the counter, drenching the ankle bands and the sign-in sheet in a wide pool of orange. The trusty alarm howled.

After the wail of the last siren died down, the houseboat was too quiet. Kelsey stayed above deck, waiting for a seal’s bark or even a seagull’s cry. Usually the fishermen with their heavy footsteps and banging buckets would pass at this hour, but no one came. A distant screech of brakes would be some company, but the road leading down to the docks was quiet. The only sound came from the waves sloshing against the pier and the groan of ropes straining against the pull of the wide ocean. There was no comfort in the noises she’d grown used to.

Slick from the misty fog, the docks were silvery gray in the last shreds of light. Within minutes of the sun setting, the harbor had turned cold and damp. Kelsey sat hunched on the bench, shivering in her T-shirt and jeans. What had happened wasn’t unexpected. She’d been dreading it for weeks. But she hadn’t planned anything out and now regret pushed at the corner of every thought as she replayed the last half of the day. Lunch had been a deli sandwich. That was the last bit of normalcy. Turkey and Swiss with a side of potato chips. She wished she could forget every moment after that. Two days shy of her thirty-sixth birthday and she’d logged a lot of bad days, but this one made the top of the list. The only good thing that had come of it all was that Hannah was officially someone else’s problem.

Kelsey wasn’t sorry about making the 911 call. The operator had been so calm—Kelsey could have been ordering a pizza instead of an ambulance. But the sedate voice on the other end of the line only offered forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours. The seconds ticked off on her wristwatch but still she sat motionless.

Shrieks and cursing filtered in and out of her mind in an unending thread and she wondered how forty-eight hours could possibly change Hannah’s course. She touched the red spot on her arm that would be an ugly bruise by morning and wished it had been a bad dream. Two years was too long for any dream.

The lapping waves rocked her into a dull, half awake-half asleep state. An hour passed and still she’d avoided going below deck. She knew what was waiting for her, Hannah’s clothes strewn about along with the empty bottles of Jack Daniels. When the slate sky darkened and no moon appeared, she stood and stretched. She could make out the tips of her fingers on her outstretched hand but beyond that there was nothing but hazy orange dock lights perched on invisible posts. The wind picked up and a swell surged the boat against the dock, upsetting what balance she’d found. The sound of the rails striking the wood was too close to the sound of Hannah’s head slamming against the plank stairs. She’d staggered down to use the latrine and missed the last step. She hadn’t gotten up after that until the paramedics had carried her off on the stretcher.