Page 28 of Clashing Moon

“You’ll stay with us,” Mama said. “I insist.”

“I don’t want to live here anymore.” Tears traveled down Arabella’s cheeks. “I’m going to sell this house and property come spring. There are no good memories here. I just want to be done with it.”

“Maybe build that cottage you want?” I asked. “Like you said last night?”

She looked over at me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mama and Pop exchanged a look but didn’t say anything. If they noticed the new warmth between us, they didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’m free,” Arabella said. “I’m actually free. Is it terrible I feel relieved?”

“Not terrible at all,” Mama said. “You’ll have feelings of grief and relief all rolled together. It’s impossible not to.” Mama stood, brushing the front of her jeans with her hands. “Have either of you eaten?”

We answered at the same time. “Granola bars.”

“All right, let’s get you packed up,” Mama said. “And then we’ll take you both home and give you a good meal.”

Mama held her arms out to me. “My sweet boy. Thank God you’re all right.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” I said, hugging her tight.

“It’s all right now,” Mama said against the fabric of my shirt. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

7

ARABELLA

Ipacked what I thought I would need for a week, figuring I could come back if I needed to. Before I could think too much, I headed back downstairs, where Rafferty waited. His parents had gone on ahead, but he’d offered to stay until I was ready. His presence downstairs while I tossed clothes and toiletries into my suitcase, kept me from completely breaking down.

By noon, I was at Stella and Jasper’s home. Stella showed me into the guest room, with its adjoining bathroom. She’d already put new towels out for me and said she’d put fresh sheets on the bed. After Stella left to give me privacy, I freshened up a little and ran a brush through my hair. When I went downstairs, Rafferty and his mother were in the kitchen. Stella had made sandwiches and fresh lemonade.

“Are you hungry?” Stella asked when I appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Not really, but I should eat something. I have a lot of decisions to make.”

I’d been to Stella and Jasper’s several times over the last few years. They had an elderly and very spoiled cat called Willa, whom they were exceedingly fond of, as well as a newly adoptedmutt from a shelter in Bozeman named Humphrey. I’d come out to visit Willa recently as she’d had an abscess on one of her paws. I’d gotten her fixed up in no time, but Jasper in particular, had been nearly frantic. He loved that cat. They’d found her hiding in their shed one winter morning years before and had brought her inside, nursing her back to health.

Humphrey seemed to remember me because he rose from his bed near the breakfast nook to come say hello. Perhaps he sensed my confusion and sadness because he pushed against my knee with his nose.

“Hey, Humphrey,” I said, kneeling beside him. “How you doing, bud?”

He wagged his tail and licked my hand. I wasn’t entirely sure what kind of mix he was, but I suspected some kind of terrier mixed with a lab. Regardless, he was a sweet little boy with fluffy bangs over brown eyes and a sweet smile.

“Come sit,” Stella said. “Is a turkey sandwich all right?”

“That sounds nice.” Stella’s elegant kitchen always smelled of a combination of bacon and cinnamon apples. Jasper had remodeled it for her not long ago, and it was absolute perfection. I loved the soft, muted blue cabinetry, accented with glass-fronted doors and a large and classic farmhouse sink beneath the window. Exposed wooden beams across the ceiling and wide-plank wood floors gave it a bit of a nostalgic feel.

Stella placed a pile of sandwiches on the island. Rafferty retrieved several plates from one of the cabinets and set them side by side next to the pitcher of lemonade.

I joined Rafferty, sitting on one of the industrial-style stools next to him. My mouth was so dry it felt as if my lips were stuck to my teeth. I thirstily drank from the glass of the cold, slightly sour lemonade. It seemed life-giving, that lemonade. Like everything else about Stella. What would my life have been like if she had been my mother? I would never know.

I had a sudden, intense longing for my mother. If only I knew where she was.

“Where’s Jasper?” I asked.

“He ran into town to pick up a few things for dinner,” Stella said. “We weren’t expecting guests.”

“I really don’t want to cause you any extra work,” I said, feeling bad.