The Shade of the Moon (8 page)

“I didn’t,” Val replied. “But you don’t have to thank me. Around here, it’s better
to keep your mouth shut.” She served Jon his eggs, two slices of potato bread toast,
and a small bowl of strawberries. A claver breakfast. Sarah was probably eating pretty
much the same in her kitchen.

He didn’t want to think about Mom’s breakfast, or Miranda’s or Alex’s. What did Val
and Carrie have for breakfast? He’d shared a house with them for two years and had
never seen them eat.

Had he ever been told their last names?

“Why aren’t you eating?” Val asked. “Is there something wrong with the eggs?”

“No,” Jon said, taking a mouthful to prove it. “I was just thinking. Are you from
Sexton, Val?”

“What makes you ask that?” she replied.

“Just curious,” he said.

“I’m from Nevada,” she said.

“My grandmother lived in Las Vegas,” Jon said. “We don’t know what happened to her.”

“I got out early,” Val said. “My boyfriend was a geologist. We were out of there by
the end of May.” She paused. “Four years ago,” she said. “It feels more like four
decades.”

“Were you a domestic?” Jon asked.

Val laughed. “I was an assistant professor of philosophy,” she said. “Not a lot of
jobs for philosophy professors these days.”

“But your boyfriend must be okay,” Jon said. “Geologists were selected. Does he live
in Sexton?”

“He died from the flu,” Val said. “We were in an evac camp. I kept going east because
I didn’t know what else to do. Then I heard there were jobs around here. They like
domestics to be college educated. Carrie was a marriage counselor before.”

“Do you mind being a grub?” Jon asked, picking at the strawberries.

“I mind the term,” Val said. “It’s offensive.”

“But everyone calls you that,” Jon said. “Why be offended?”

“Everyone can call you ugly,” Val said. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be offended.”

Jon stared at her. Val burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re not ugly, Jon. You’re a nice kid and you’re nice looking
and I don’t know how we got onto this subject. Eat your breakfast, and don’t think
so much.”

Jon took a bite of his eggs. He’d wait until tomorrow to invite Sarah. He’d had enough
socializing with grubs for one day without having to hear Sarah go on and on about
how everybody was equal.

Wednesday, May 27

Sarah wouldn’t stop talking on the way to the bus stop. The clinic was understaffed.
It was impossible to give the people the care they needed. There were children with
rickets. Did Jon know what caused rickets? A lack of calcium and sunlight. People
in Sexton took vitamin pills and calcium supplements and drank goat’s milk while children
in White Birch had rickets.

“Do you drink goat’s milk?” Jon asked. “Do you take vitamins?”

Sarah scowled. “Daddy makes me,” she said.

“And does he drink goat’s milk?” Jon continued. “Does he take vitamins?”

“He has to,” Sarah said. “He’s the only doctor for all the people in White Birch.
It’s important for him to stay healthy.”

“Exactly,” Jon said. “That’s why clavers get goat’s milk and vitamins. It’s more important
for us to stay healthy than it is for the grubs.”

“I hate you, Jon Evans,” Sarah said.

Somehow it didn’t seem like the right time to invite her to dinner.

Thursday, May 28

Sarah was unusually quiet that morning, and Jon took advantage by inviting her and
her father for dinner at his mother’s. He had to know by Saturday and waiting until
Friday was too risky.

“My mother says you met my sister Miranda at the clinic,” he began. “You never told
me.”

“I can’t talk about patients,” Sarah said. “But I wanted to tell you. I liked her
a lot. She’s so proud of you.”

“She is?” Jon asked. It hadn’t occurred to him that Miranda thought about him at all.

“She couldn’t stop talking about you,” Sarah said. “How you’re great with Gabe and
so good at soccer. How brave you’ve been, living with Lisa and not with your mother.”
She paused. “I never think about it, what it must be like for you. I’d hate it if
I had to live apart from my father. I’m sorry, Jon. I always tell you when you drive
me crazy, which is practically every day, but I don’t give you enough credit for who
you are, what you go through.”

“It’s okay,” Jon said. “I talk to Mom every week. And sometimes I see Alex, when he’s
driving the bus I’m on. Besides, they want me to be here. It was their choice. Miranda
insisted I take the pass.” Julie’s pass, he thought. What would Julie have wanted?

“Still,” Sarah said. She reached over, turning Jon so he was facing her, and then
she kissed him.

Jon held on to her, trying not to think of Julie. He’d dated a few claver girls and
enjoyed himself with plenty of grubber girls. He never thought about Julie, what he’d
done to Julie, when he was with any of them.

Only Sarah. Because Sarah was the only girl he’d ever cared about. The only one other
than Julie.

“Listen,” he said, breaking away. “My mother wants you to come to dinner. Any day
you want. You and your father. I’ll be there. Ask your father, okay?”

He expected Sarah to look pleased, not just because it would give her a chance to
go slumming but because it was his family and he was important to her.

Instead Sarah looked doubtful. “I don’t know,” she said.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jon said. “We’re not good enough for you?”

“No, of course not,” Sarah said. “I mean, of course you are. You know what I mean.
It’s wonderful your mother wants to have us over for dinner. But Daddy hasn’t done
anything since Mother died except move here and work. It’s been less than four months,
Jon. It feels like forever, but it really hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s just dinner,” Jon asked. “He has to eat. Ask him, okay? Mom’ll kill me if you
don’t.”

Sarah laughed. “I’ll ask him,” she said, and she kissed Jon again. “I’d love to meet
your mother. I’ll let you know tomorrow, I promise.”

“Promise,” Jon said, and kissed her. But in the distance he could hear Julie crying,
“No.”

Friday, May 29

“Daddy says yes,” Sarah said as soon as she saw Jon. “He thinks it’s a wonderful idea.
Monday, all right? We’ll go straight from the clinic to your mother’s.”

“Monday,” Jon said. “I’ll tell Mom when she calls tomorrow.”

He tried to feel happy, but all he could think of was Mom’s miserable apartment. Sarah’s
home—Zach’s grandfather’s home—was a ten-room Victorian with a wraparound porch, a
greenhouse, and three domestics. Sarah might bandage grubs, but she’d never eaten
with one.

“It won’t be fancy,” he said.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sarah replied. “It’s family.”

Saturday, May 30

Jon knocked on Val’s door.

“What is it?” she asked. “I’m leaving for the bus in a minute.”

“I know,” Jon said, handing her two books. “I took these out of the library. They’re
philosophy books. I thought maybe you’d like to read them.”

Val looked the books over. “Aristotle,” she said. “William James. That’s quite the
combination.”

“The library didn’t have much of a philosophy section,” Jon replied. “I know we keep
you pretty busy, but I thought you could read them before you went to bed. You can
keep them as long as you want. The library works on an honor system.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Jon,” Val said. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Well, you want to keep your hand in,” Jon said, “so when they’re looking for philosophy
professors again, you’ll be ready.”

“Any day now,” Val said. “Thank you, Jon. I’ll start reading them Monday night. But
now I’ve got to run if I want to catch the bus to White Birch.”

It was funny, Jon thought. Monday night he’d be in White Birch.

He didn’t think that all the philosophy in the world would make the evening any easier.

Monday, June 1

Jon had never taken a grubber bus before, and he hoped he never would have to again.
It was an old school bus, and it was crammed with fifty or more grubs, their stench
so strong he could hardly breathe.

His claver ID badge indicated he had the right to sit wherever he wanted. He grabbed
a seat, then offered it to Miranda, who took it gratefully. Jon stood, shoved between
Alex and a burly grub who looked like he’d beat all the clavers to death if he ever
had the chance.

There was one guard on the bus, standing next to the driver. One guard with a semiautomatic
to protect him against fifty grubs. Of course if he started shooting, Jon was as likely
to be killed as any of them.

Never again, he promised himself. One grubber bus trip in to appease Mom. After this
he’d take a claver bus or not come in at all.

The grubs stampeded out of the bus when it reached the White Birch terminal. Miranda
waited until it had emptied before getting out. Alex helped her down the steps and
embraced her.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Up to the walk?”

Miranda grinned. “What if I say no?” she replied. “You going to carry me home?”

Alex laughed. “Jon’ll do the carrying,” he said. “I’ll navigate.”

“How far is it?” Jon asked. He had never thought about how the grubs got from the
terminal to their homes.

“It’s not bad,” Alex said. “About three miles.”

“Three miles?” Jon said. “You walk that every day?”

“Twice a day,” Alex replied.

“You get used to it,” Miranda said. “It would be okay if the air was cleaner. Us pregnant
women are supposed to get our exercise.”

“You’re on your feet all day long,” Alex said. “When Carlos and I get our truck, you’ll
stay home, Miranda. You and Laura. You’ll be ladies of leisure.”

“What about that place Matt talked about?” Jon said.

Alex shook his head. “Not here,” he said softly. “Not with so many people around.”

“We haven’t decided anything,” Miranda said. “No decisions until the baby’s born.”

“Do you have a boy’s name yet?” Jon asked.

Miranda laughed. “Tell him your latest one, Alex,” she said.

“Francis Patrick Xavier Mulrooney Morales,” Alex said.

“What?” Jon said.

“See,” Miranda said. “I told you, darling. It’s a ridiculous name. Worse than Harold.”

“Father Mulrooney saved my life,” Alex said. “My sanity and my life. I owe him everything.”

“You don’t owe him your firstborn’s name,” Miranda said. “It better be a girl.”

“You really thinking about Harold?” Jon asked. That had been Dad’s name, but everyone
called him Hal.

“As much as we’re thinking about Francis Patrick Xavier Mulrooney,” Miranda said.
“I like Daniel. I think it sounds good with Morales. But Alex doesn’t want me to name
the baby for an old boyfriend.”

“You don’t see me suggesting an old girlfriend’s name,” Alex said.

“You don’t have any old girlfriends,” Miranda said. “Except me.”

“She’s right,” Alex said to Jon. “I was saving myself for her. I just didn’t know
it.”

“Speaking of girlfriends,” Miranda said, “Sarah seems very nice. Are you serious about
her, Jon?”

“There’s no point being serious about anyone,” Jon said. “If Lisa doesn’t pass her
evaluation, I’ll leave Sexton with her.”

“Mom would hate it if you did,” Miranda said.

“He won’t have to,” Alex said. “One of his friends would take him in. Gabe, too. They’d
find a home for him in Sexton.”

“That would be awful for Lisa,” Miranda said. “Gabe’s her life. If she had to leave
him behind, it would kill her.”

“Well, we won’t have that problem,” Alex said. “No one’s kicking us out of White Birch.
Little Mulrooney is stuck with us.”

Miranda ignored him. “Is Lisa worried?” she asked. “When will she hear?”

“Pretty soon,” Jon said. “And yeah, she’s worried. She hasn’t decided what she’ll
do about Gabe if she has to leave.”

“There’s no choice,” Alex said. “Take Gabe away from Sexton? If she really loves him,
she’ll let him be adopted. There’s no life for kids here.”

“Our kid is going to live here,” Miranda said.

“Our kid doesn’t have a choice,” Alex said. “Jon, tell Miranda what Gabe’s life is
like. The food. The toys. The clean clothes.”

“Gabe’s lonely,” Jon said. “He has Carrie, but that’s it. There are so few kids in
Sexton, little ones, I mean.”

“But the women must be having babies now,” Miranda said.

“I don’t see pregnant women on the claver buses,” Alex said. “Do you, Jon?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said. “I never really thought about it.”

“I thought claver women could have as many babies as they wanted,” Miranda said. “They
eat so much better. And didn’t you say once, their houses have air purification systems?
I thought I remembered you saying that, Jon.”

Jon nodded.

“It’s still a hard world,” Alex said. He gave Miranda a squeeze. “We’re the lucky
ones.”