Bedful of Moonlight by Raven Held (best ereader for pc TXT) 📖

at the dining table. “Sorry for knocking you out like that, Kristen. Although if you’d just cooperated and made things less difficult for us, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”
“That,” Caleb said from my side, “is the worst apology I have ever heard.”
“Take it or leave it.” Gareth turned to me. “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy, girl. Things aren’t as simple and clear-cut as they seem, and this is the only way for now.”
“Are you referring to your assaulting me, or this having you son conspiring to –”
“Whoa, whoa. Conspiring? You really have to get off your moral high horse, you know –”
“Enough.”
We both turned, out next words quelled.
Caleb sighed and turned to his dad. “Can you give us five minutes alone? Whip up something for us, or whatever.”
Gareth looked indignant at first, but got up grudgingly and headed for the kitchen. “Fine. You work your mojo on her. Fruit loops okay?” he added, rolling his eyes before disappearing out of sight.
“I know this seems like a bad idea,” Caleb began.
“Probably because it is,” I said. “Does anyone else know about it? Your mom? Reilly?”
“Only Aunt Belle. And now, you. No-one else needs to know. Aunt Belle only ever saw him once, and that was it.”
“Are you ever going to tell your mom, then?”
He shook his head. “This isn’t anyone else’s problem. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“So you’re just going to keep hiding him and hope nobody finds out?”
“If you have a better plan, I’d be happy to hear it.”
“Caleb, he has you running around, making sure he doesn’t get into trouble, going out of your way to hide him.” I was aware of how my voice was growing louder by the second. “And all he cares about is being fed and entertained. He doesn’t do anything else or help you ease your load in any way.”
“Watch it, girl,” Gareth called from the kitchen. “I can hear you from here, you know.”
Caleb ignored his father. His eyes glinted, hard, at me. “You don’t know anything, Kristen, so don’t even act like you have any right to say anything about this.”
“I have the right to make an observation,” I hissed. “And the fact you’re so disinclined to see is that that man is making use of you, living off you. That is not what a father who loves his son does –”
“And I suppose you have so much authority to say that because your mother left you so she could get more satisfaction out of life.”
My next words were caught in my throat for a while before I eked out, “It’s not the same, and you know it.”
We were silent for a while, looking off in different directions.
“And going back to you,” I said, “do you even know how long this is going to last? When is he ever going to stop hiding? Besides, it’s not that serious, is it? It’s just a few petty crimes. It won’t be the death sentence.”
“He’s bankrupt, Kristen,” he said quietly. “And those petty crimes can still land him in jail.” He sighed. “You know, I don’t have to stand here and answer your questions. It’s clear that you despise my dad, the life we lead, and you disapprove the decision I’ve made to help him –”
“I don’t, Caleb. It’s just, I think you can’t see where all this is leading to –”
“And you can?”
I pressed my lips tightly against each other.
“Look,” Caleb said. “Remember that talk about boundaries? We should keep our heads to our plates and leave each other’s problems alone.”
“I can’t stand by and watch you let be run by this man who cares nothing for you.”
“It’s none of your business! What are you going to do, turn us in?”
There was a pause, where we stared at each other. Caleb had paled visibly.
“You won’t, will you?”
I had never intended to, but in that space where I hesitated, caught off guard by his question, his raw fear, he had already formed ideas in his head.
“You wouldn’t.” He stared, and I still could not get my mouth working. “Would you? Would you really turn us in?”
“No.” I let the word sink in, blend irreversibly into the air between us. “No, I won’t. I promise.”
It was funny how I managed to say that, managed to utter that word, since every encounter I had with it ended exactly the way I feared it would.
“I’m sorry for the things I just said,” he said after a moment’s worth of silence. “Bringing in your mom was a low blow.”
It seemed we apologised to each other for the stuff we said a lot.
When I didn’t reply, he went on, “I know you don’t like my dad. I have to admit, he’s hard to like sometimes. But he’s still my father, Kristen, the one who taught me how to make my own bow-and-arrow and tie my shoelaces when I was young.”
“So what happened?”
“What?”
“What happened,” I said, “three years ago? Something made him leave, didn’t it?”
He assessed me. “I want an even trade.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked slowly.
“Was … was Blake your first boyfriend?”
My eyes widened. That was unexpected.
Caleb looked like he regretted opening his mouth now, but before he could take anything back, I said, “Yes. Yes, he was. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just curious.”
It felt like such a long time ago that I had lost Blake, that I had even heard his name uttered or thought about him. And, like always, I felt guilty. Sorry that he had to leave alone, sorry that he was the one to leave when nothing was even his fault, sorry that I was not thinking about him as much as I should, sorry that I had gotten so involved in Caleb’s problem that I had come this close to forgetting him.
How many times could you say sorry until it became just a word to you, uttered on autopilot as an offering to your conscience?
“So … what happened three years ago?”
“He did something to Aunt Belle. It’s why my mom isn’t speaking to her – come on,” Caleb said suddenly, taking the empty glass from my hand. “If you’re feeling better, we’ll eat something before going to the Old Belle. Hyde called to tell us about some brainwave he’s had for the book fair.”
We left after having wolfed down the Fruit Loops with milk Gareth made for us.
“Leaving so soon?” he said snarkily at the door.

*

Hyde’s eyes widened briefly when we arrived at the Old Belle, Caleb’s arm slung protectively around me. We didn’t talk the entire way here. I let Caleb put his arm around me, but kept my thoughts doggedly to Blake.
“So what’s the great idea?” Caleb said. He took his arm away as we entered the bookstore. The bell rang loudly in the quiet store. As usual, it was empty, save for a white-haired lady in an armchair at the corner.
“The great idea, my friends,” Hyde said smugly, “is a book recycling fair.” Without waiting for us to pose any questions, he plunged on. “Basically, the idea is that people bring their old books and trade for other people’s old books. And during or after the exchange fair, we’ll tell them of the book fair.”
“Right, and what are you going to do about the cost?” Caleb asked.
“Well, I haven’t gone around to that yet,” Hyde said, his smirk slipping. “But money, shmoney, right? We’ll work it out.” Surprisingly, he turned to me. “So what do you say?”
I considered his proposal. It was a good idea, apart from the expenditure problem. In fact, it might even be a better idea than just plunging into the book fair straightaway, because it wouldn’t be such a gamble. Organising a book fair cost more than a book recycling fair, after all.
“It’s good idea,” I said, “apart from the little kinks we’ll have to work out. But it’s a really good idea.”
Hyde grinned self-satisfactorily. “That’s great.” He made for the stairs. “I’ll print the leaflet out now, then. Just need to do some touch-ups. Five minutes!”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “Which means he knew we’d agree to it.” And then, thinking for a while, he said, “You know, the cost might not be such a big problem. We could always hold a fund-raising fair. Aunt Belle’s making these art-and-crafty stuff with some of her friends since university. But with all her jobs and the boys now, she hardly has the time to pursue that. We could bring out her old stuff, though. They’ve got a whole room stuffed full with their works.”
I propped my elbows on the counter. “What do they make?”
“Bamboo bags, painted ceramic bowls, beaded shoes, miniature flower pots, you name it. It was like an addiction. Her room used to be in the basement, because that was where she worked. My grandmother taught her all that, see, got her interested in it. But it never caught on with my mom. She said she never understood the point of art and craft.”
“Hey, kids.”
We both turned. Gareth had come in through the front door. He cringed slightly when the bell chimed.
“Dad,” Caleb sighed. “What are you doing here?”
“Relax, son. I’m not here for you. Is Belle around?”
“Why,” he demanded, “are you here. Hyde’s upstairs; you could get caught!”
Gareth smirked. “So that little prick’s still hanging around, eh? Still pining away for Belle?”
“Aunt Belle’s not here, so you should leave before anyone sees you.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Gareth enjoyed putting Caleb in a state. But what sense would that make?
Gareth was walking out of the counter and scouring the aisles for Belle when Caleb said again, “Dad. Please. Leave. Unless you want Hyde to see you and call the police. And if that happens, there’s nothing I can do.”
Gareth spun around and jabbed a finger in Caleb’s chest. “Hey, you don’t threaten your father like that, you hear me?” Then, throwing a dirty look at me, he said, “I’m leaving. Happy?”
I watched as he strode out through the backdoor. Caleb carried a pile of thick hard-covered books to the New Arrivals rack, his jaw clenched and his eyes flinty.
Hyde bounded back down the stairs, waving a piece of paper. With a flourish, he shoved it under our noses. On it was a huge coloured picture of the Old Belle from the front, where the wooden sign dangled above the sidewalk. Beneath the picture were the details of the book exchange.
“Nice,” Caleb said. “Aunt Belle would love you for doing this. Love you.”
“Shut up.” Setting the leaflet on the counter, he asked casually, “So who was that just now? I heard the bell ring. A customer?”
“He left. Nothing here interested him,” he said, not missing a beat. “So anyway,” he went on, “we were thinking, to fund the book fair, we could ask Aunt Belle to sell some of her crafts. You know, a craft fair.”
“Hey, that’s a good idea,” Hyde said. “They’ve got so many they really need to sell some, anyway.”
As they discussed about the fair, I marvelled at how well Caleb was able to conceal everything right under our noses for so long, even longer under Hyde’s, whom he faced everyday. Maybe it was even easier to hide the truth this way, because often, our minds are our eyes, and they tell us what to see.

*

That night, I fell asleep again.
It wasn’t Blake. Or my mom. She had stopped showing up ever since she