Moonstone
Authors: Jaime Clevenger
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Moving back to her hometown was never at the top of Joy Henderson’s to-do list. With a successful career in San Francisco and plenty of opportunity for casual relationships, the last thing Joy wants is to return to the small town she’d planned her whole life to escape. But family obligations pull her back home and it isn’t long before Joy runs into someone she’s always dreamed of seeing again—the first girl she ever imagined kissing. Kelsey West.
Olympic dreams are a thing of the past for Kelsey. Now an out of work swim coach recovering from a bad relationship, she’s back home only long enough to get her life together. When she learns that Joy Henderson, the high school crush she never forgot, is also back in town, she can’t help but wonder if there’s a chance to rewrite the past.
Time has changed their hometown. Time has changed Kelsey and Joy. But when it comes to two women who have never trusted love—has time changed them enough?
Copyright © 2016 by Jaime Clevenger
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2016
eBook released 2016
Editor: Medora MacDougall
Cover Designer: Linda Callaghan
ISBN: 978-1-59493-488-9
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
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Jaime Clevenger lives with her wife, two kids, two cats and two dogs in Colorado. She spends her days working as a veterinarian and playing with her family. She loves to swim but is terrified of diving off a starting block. She hopes very much that you enjoy this story.
Streaks of silver and blue threaded across the polished stone. The smooth oval shape matched her thumb and she rolled it between her fingers. When it came to rest in her palm, she pushed back tears and jammed it in the pocket of her jeans. Moonstones were cheap. Twenty bucks bought a handful in Chinatown along with a velvet bag to carry them home.
The car was finally packed and she had to slam the overfilled trunk to get it closed. Joy glanced again at her third-floor apartment. Her old apartment. She was leaving most of her things. Framed prints still hung on the walls—Picasso and Annie Lee interspersed with Frida Kahlo. The red plaid sofa sagged in the middle and the coffee table was ringed with years of sweaty water glasses. Both had followed her through grad school along with the queen bed and the squeaky box spring. At thirty-five, she didn’t own anything worth the hassle of a moving truck. If it didn’t fit in her Honda Accord, it was staying behind along with the view of Golden Gate Park.
The street was clear for a block in either direction and no one noticed how long she stood with one hand on the car door. Finally she climbed into the driver’s seat. She started out of the narrow parking spot and then slammed on the brakes when something struck the roof. A cinnamon raisin bagel rolled down the windshield. She waited a moment and when nothing followed, eased her death grip on the steering wheel. Another bagel pelted the sunroof and she jumped at the sound. Then she smiled.
Joy cut the engine and eyed the third-floor apartment. The bay window was propped open and Vanessa leaned out. Joy was ready for the next bagel when it hit the hood. Sesame onion. It tumbled over the nose of the car. She rolled down the window and stuck her head out.
“Bagels?”
“Don’t be mad.” Vanessa’s voice was contrite. “I didn’t want you to drive off and forget about me.”
“So you decided to throw bagels?”
“It was a last-minute decision.” Vanessa had thick black hair that she always kept pulled back in a low ponytail unless she had a date. Then she let it loose. Now it framed her olive complexion and fell off her shoulders as she leaned out the window.
“Most people stick with goodbye.”
“You know I’m not most people.”
“And now I’ll always remember you were the one who threw bagels.”
Vanessa could have called dibs on having the best pout a grown woman could muster. But she couldn’t hold it for long. Finally she cracked a smile and reached for another bagel.
“You wouldn’t,” Joy said. She ducked when Vanessa raised her arm. Joy waited but no bagel came. She risked a glance at the window.
“Come back for Pride. Breakfast in Dolores Park Saturday morning.” Vanessa wiped her eyes. “By then you’ll be missing the city even if you aren’t missing me.”
Joy missed San Francisco and she hadn’t left yet. She knew she was going to miss Vanessa. “I’ll bring bagels.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Vanessa blew a kiss and pulled the window shut. Joy waited until she’d disappeared. Only a silhouette marked her shadowy movements. She’d gone to her usual spot—sitting on the coffee table with her feet kicked up on the sofa. She was probably already on her cell phone looking for her next date.
From the start, they had agreed to an open relationship. Vanessa had suggested it but Joy didn’t argue. Grocery shopping on Sunday afternoon was better with her company. She was even nicer company naked in bed on Saturday night. The only hint that she wanted more from the relationship came the day Joy told her she was leaving. Vanessa had argued, almost persuasively, that there was no reason to break up in an open relationship. After a week of sulking, Vanessa asked to sublet the one-bedroom apartment and bought pots to plant flowers on the balcony. She hung around while Joy packed and gushed about her new view of the park. Joy’s old view. Then she insisted Joy keep a key. By the last kiss, Joy was less certain than ever that they needed to break up.
Joy closed her eyes. She pushed away the thought of getting out of the car to ring her old doorbell. It was too late. She turned up the volume on the radio and pulled out of the parking space. The curvy silhouette had disappeared.
The drive to Raceda was over five hours. Six with traffic. She’d lose her favorite station before she reached Santa Rosa. Everything north of that was tainted with static or country the closer she got to home. “Home.” She repeated the word only because the hollowness of it reminded her of murmuring “Om” over and over again. She didn’t go to yoga in search of enlightenment, but the “Om” had struck a chord.
She’d told Vanessa that she was moving home, but the house where she’d grown up in Raceda had sold a month after the funeral. Her mom was renting a cramped townhouse that didn’t feel like home. Everything familiar was in storage or donated to Goodwill. The town itself, she decided, was home. It was also the last place she wanted to go. Joy turned her attention to the cars lining up to cross the bridge. She wouldn’t miss the city’s traffic.