The Last of the Moon Girls(62)

There were tears in her eyes suddenly, trembling on her lashes, threatening to fall. She tried to blink them away, but it was too late. They spilled over, tracing a path through the streak of soot on her cheek. “Sometimes I wonder . . .” She shook her head and glanced away, letting the words dangle.

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Talk to me, Lizzy. You wonder what?”

She pushed back her hair, leaving a fresh soot mark on her forehead. “Sometimes I wonder if Althea . . . if some part of her might still be here, trying to clean things up.” She hesitated, eyes darting. “I feel her sometimes. I turn around, expecting her to be there. She never is, though.”

“Just because you can’t see her doesn’t mean she isn’t here.”

“You believe that?”

“I do,” he said matter-of-factly, because somehow it rang true for him. It would be just like Althea to hang around, to make sure the people she loved were okay, and, if possible, to put the broken pieces of her family back together.

“The thing Rhanna said on the steps—the perfume thing—it’s happened to me too. Not always, but every now and then. And then there’s this journal she left, with all these herbs and flowers pressed between the pages, like lessons she left for me. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s like she’s still here, talking right to me.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all. It sounds like Althea. She loved you. And if you ask me, there’s no better reason to stick around than that.”

The corners of her mouth trembled, not quite a smile. “Thank you for that. I thought you came out here to scold me about being a bad hostess. I wasn’t expecting . . . this.”

Neither was he. He’d come after her because he wanted to talk about the fire. And maybe about Rhanna, about what might actually lie at the base of all her anger. Instead, she had dropped her guard and, for the first time, allowed him to see her stripped of her armor. But now that she had, he found himself on shaky ground.

She was still looking at him, waiting for him to say something, her face all angles in the gathering dusk. She was a Moon through and through. Porcelain skin, hair the color of midnight, luminous quicksilver eyes. Like something from a grown-up fairy tale, but real enough to touch.

“We’d better go,” he said, pushing to his feet. If he sat there much longer, he was going to say something stupid, something he couldn’t take back.





TWENTY-THREE

It was full dark by the time Lizzy returned to the house. Dinner had been cleared away, the dishes washed and left to dry in the rack. She was glad, though she did wonder where Rhanna had gotten to. Perhaps she realized the Lazarus act wasn’t going to fly and was already on her way back to California.

But a burst of muffled voices from upstairs put a quick end to that hope. Lizzy mounted the stairs with growing dread. The light was on in what used to be Rhanna’s room, and whatever was going on didn’t sound pleasant. The voices grew more distinct as she approached the landing: Evvie growling about hippies and flophouses, Rhanna snarling about being bossed around in her own room. Their heads turned in unison when Lizzy walked in.

“What’s going on in here?”

Evvie’s chin jutted like a sulky child’s. “I’m trying to clear a place for her to sleep in all this mess.” She paused, waving an arm at the stacked boxes and discarded household items crowding the room. “I finally get the bed cleared off, tell her there are sheets in the closet—”

“I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks,” Rhanna bristled, matching Evvie sulk for sulk. “I don’t need sheets. I need to crash.”

Evvie folded her arms, eyes narrowed. “In this house you need sheets. Just like in this house we wash the dinner dishes and put them away when we’re through.”

Apparently, the battle had started in the kitchen. Not surprising, given Rhanna’s aversion to all things domestic. Evvie had almost certainly made her opinion known. It wasn’t in her DNA to hold back when something needed saying.

Lizzy closed her eyes, sighing. “I’ll take care of it, Evvie.”

Evvie shook her head. “No, ma’am. You’ve had enough for one day. You look . . .” Her eyes narrowed on Lizzy’s sooty jeans and streaked face. “You’ve been out to the orchard, haven’t you? I thought the man from the fire department told you not to bother anything?”

“I didn’t. I just—”

“Wait.” Rhanna held up a hand, cutting Lizzy off. “Why was there a fireman here?”

Lizzy swallowed a groan. She didn’t want to get into this tonight. And she didn’t want Evvie getting into it either. She shot her a silent plea to let her handle it, then turned back to Rhanna. “The shed burned last night. And part of the orchard.”

Rhanna’s face went blank. She looked at Evvie. “Burned?”

“Right to the ground.”

“Do they know how it started?”

Lizzy waved the question away. “We can talk about it in the morning. Let’s just make the bed, okay? You’re not the only one who needs sleep.”

But sleep didn’t come easily when Lizzy finally slipped into bed. Snatches of her conversation with Andrew kept running through her head. He’d surprised her tonight. But then he’d always had a way of surprising her. Tonight was different, though. He hadn’t batted an eye when she asked if he believed in ghosts. Instead, he talked about regrets and chains, about leaving this world with unfinished business.