Valley of the Moon (14 page)

Then I saw something else.

On her wrist, clear as day, was my silver charm bracelet.

***

The charms on the delicate silver chain jingled when you shook them, like tiny bells. There was a doll’s face, an ice skate, a heart, a crescent moon, a ballet slipper, a key, and a rose. The bracelet had been sitting in my jewelry box, forgotten, ever since Eden gave it to me on the way to the airport over spring break.

The key was the only charm that wasn’t silver. It was gold.

And just the right size.

I retrieved the diary from its subterranean hiding place. Sitting on the floor, I grasped the tiny key between my fingers and guided it into the keyhole on the diary’s lock. It slid in effortlessly. I took a deep breath and turned it.

The lock clicked and the front cover of the book sprang open.

I found myself staring at the miraculous words on the front page.

Jackpot.

MY DIARY

Property of: Tanith Fremont, age 8, Sonoma, California, U.S.A., Earth, Milky Way, The Universe.

The words were written in a child’s uneven, loopy cursive. The yellowed paper made a crinkly noise as I turned the page.

The first entry was short.

“Hello, this is me, Tanith. This is my diary that I got for my birthday and NO ONE is allowed to read it, not Mommy, not Daddy, not Nana.

If you are reading this, stop NOW! This is your LAST warning.”

I’d finally found Tanith Fremont. But who was she?

I scanned the delicate pages for clues, dates, and names.

The next entry was longer. Tanith Fremont described her recent eighth birthday party and the chocolate cake her mother baked. In another entry, she described a trip to San Francisco to see the Nutcracker ballet.

Then, there it was—the clue I needed. My heart beat faster as I read her words.

“Mama says my name meens princess of the moon. She says her name Caroline meens song of happyness. I don’t know what daddy’s name means but it rimes with HEART so that’s good.”

Caroline was my grandmother’s name. Bart was my grandfather.

Tanith Fremont was my mother, and someone was trying to find her.

Someone who didn’t know she was dead.

My mother’s childhood, long lost to the mists of time, came into sharp, shocking focus in my hands. An unfamiliar emotion welled deep in my heart, one I hadn’t experienced in years.

Joy.

Spellbound by the magical little diary, I kept reading. She got an A on a book report for
Little House on the Prairie
. She had chicken pox. She got stung by a bee while pruning roses. She built the perfect sand castle at the beach. She found a four-leaf clover and made a secret wish, which was to catch a Leprechaun in the trap she made at school. She helped her mother bake cookies.

Her childhood sounded idyllic, but I already knew the sad ending. I turned the pages slowly, bracing myself for the disaster headed her way.

And then, it hit. The page crinkled loudly when I touched it, because her pen had pressed hard into the paper. I could feel each pen stroke through the back of the paper, like braille. I held my breath as I read the scrawled words.

“Dear Diary, I have very very very very bad news. Mommy and Daddy went to heaven to be with God and I am not going to see them for such a long time. Tomorrow we are going to say good-bye to them and put them in the ground. I am sad and very very very mad. Nana says I am going to live with my other grandma. I don’t know my other grandma but Nana says the new Nana will give me toys and dolls. But I don’t want dolls. I don’t want to move away from Mommy and Daddy. And I have a big secret, Diary! I snuck Mommy’s special necklace out of her jewelry box when Nana wasn’t looking.

I’m going to give it back to her so she can wear it in heaven. God will think she is so pretty when she wears it.”

Orphans really needed to stop running in my family.

I wiped my tears and turned the page, wanting more. More details about her move to New York, her new life with the Ambrose spinsters. To my disappointment, it was blank. I flipped through the rest of the pages. Blank. Blank. Blank.

I turned to the last page. Across a two-page spread, Tanith had drawn a complete landscape. Blue sky across the top, a yellow sun in the upper corner, and green grass on the ground. In the center there was what looked like a gravestone with the word “Mommy” on it. On the left, she’d drawn purple flowers and a cross sticking out of the ground. There was a white bird perched on the cross.

Across the bottom of the picture, she’d scrawled “For Mom.”

There was something pressed into the seam. I flattened the book until the spine cracked. It was a dried purple wildflower. When I lifted it out, the stem crumbled away in my hand.

Tanith Fremont—Annie Goodwin—was dead. So why was someone writing her—and me—letters? Who was sending them?

The diary created more questions than it answered. I never would have found it if the snow globe hadn’t fallen that night.

Or been pushed.

I shivered a little and looked up. My room had gotten dark. Through my bedroom window, night had descended on the valley. I debated telling my father about my discoveries—had he really not know his own wife’s real name? And all the details about her family? It was definitely possible. The man was clueless.

I hugged the little diary to my chest and collapsed onto my bed. The snow globe had not been pushed off my dresser—it just fell. Things just fall. It was a coincidence that it led me to the diary. There were no such things as ghosts.

So why was I shaking?

In this manner had fought forgotten ancestors. They quickened the old life within him, the old tricks which they had stamped into the heredity of the breed were his tricks… And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him.

—Jack London,
Call of the Wild

New Year’s Eve. Two years earlier.

My BARE feet WERE FROZEN
after walking two miles uphill to the Crawford’s. I couldn’t walk in the stupid heels Cressida had convinced me to wear. None of the other girls at Trevor’s New Year’s Eve party had worn heels. When I finally made it back, I was filled with relief to be home. Even though it wasn’t my house and never would be.

His “party” took place in a windowless, carpeted den in his basement. One of Ramona’s housekeepers dropped us off at his house earlier that night. A few other sophomore girls from school were there, plus a bunch of older boys I didn’t know. The cute ones didn’t bother to talk to me. The pimply one with braces said hi, but then made fun of me when I declined to take a hit off the giant bong they were passing around.

The boys put on a horror movie and we ate pizza. When the movie ended, someone turned the lights off and lit the candle on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Thumping hip-hop played on the stereo in the corner. We all sat in a circle on the carpet and one of the boys handed out more bottles of beer from the mini fridge. One boy poured shots for the girls into small paper cups, from a bottle filled with clear liquid.

I took a small sip of my beer and gripped it tight with both hands.

Valentina called out, “Ok, people! Truth or dare time! Trevor, it’s your party so you have to go first. Truth…or dare!”

“Truth,” he said. “Duh.” He let out an enormous belch. His friends cracked up and the girls giggled. Valentina chugged her beer, wiped her mouth, and slammed the bottle down on the table. Foam spilled out and ran down the sides.

“Okay. Trevor, truth—who do you have a crush on?”

The girls shrieked. One guy yelled, “He’s in love with me, ladies, sorry!”

He took a huge hit off the bong that was going around the circle and blew out the smoke. “That’s so easy.” He looked at me and grinned. “Cressida’s sister.” Some of the girls gasped. The others shifted uncomfortably and gave each other looks. Cressida glared at him. My cheeks burned and I looked down.

Trevor snorted and rolled his eyes. He pointed at me and yelled, “Ha, look, she thinks I’m talking about her! I meant Cressida’s little sister, Eden. She’s hot.”

Everyone cracked up as I felt my face get hot. Cressida shouted, “You’re a total pedophile, Trevor. Eden’s nine!”

“Okay, okay!” Valentina said. “Wait, you guys, stop laughing! Cressida, it’s your turn. Trevor, pass her the bong.” Trevor passed it to her and she took a drag.

I had an aching pit in my stomach, but I had no way out of the party. I couldn’t just stand up and run. Plus, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of chasing me away. And anyway, we were both supposed to be sleeping over at Ginger’s later. Ramona was having friends over she’d said, and had made it very clear we were not allowed to stay home that night. My dad was out of town on a last-minute car-buying trip Ramona had arranged—she was constantly sending him on trips for his business to find vintage cars that needed restoring.

She never went with him on any of the trips, though.

Cressida exhaled the smoke and flashed me her weird smile—the one that looked like she wanted to gobble me up.

Oh, La-na,” Cressida said in a singsong voice. My stomach flipped and I swallowed hard. “Truth or dare.” I swallowed hard and weighed my options. I couldn’t say truth—there’d be too many opportunities for her to humiliate me. If I said dare, she’d probably just dare me to smoke pot or eat something weird. I’d survive.

“Dare.”

Ginger gasped. Boys snickered. I picked up my beer, tipped it into my mouth, and drained it. Cressida looked stunned. Ginger crawled over to her and whispered something in her ear, and she nodded and smirked. The yawning pit in my stomach got deeper, but I refused to let them see how scared I was.

“Well? I asked her. “What are you waiting for?” The room got quiet.

Cressida looked around slowly, enjoying the drama, and then announced, “Lana, I dare you to go into the bathroom with Trevor for ten minutes, with the door locked.” The girls screamed and the boys whistled.
Not that. Anything but that.
I’d never been alone with a boy. I’d never touched a boy. And Trevor was repulsive.

I bit my lip and looked at Trevor. His slitted eyes looked bloodshot. He licked his lips and waggled his eyebrows at me.

My heart was racing, but I felt like I had no choice but to go through with it. I stood and straightened my short dress—another Cressida hand-me-down.

“Make it fifteen minutes,” I said. Trevor’s jaw dropped. So did Valentina’s. Ginger giggled and rubbed her hands together. Cressida stared at me, her face like stone.

The boys started chanting, “Tre-vor! Tre-vor! Tre-vor!” Meanwhile, I felt like I was going to be sick. Trevor got to his feet unsteadily and took my elbow. He led me out of the room as the kids chanted his name behind us. I remembered, too late, that he was a lot bigger than me—taller and much broader. What was about to happen?

Outside the den, there was a small hallway, and beyond that were stairs leading up to the first floor. He opened a door next to the stairs and beckoned me inside. I stepped into the pitch-black bathroom and smelled Christmas-scented air freshener. The door closed behind me, and I heard him turn a lock. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. I turned to face him, hanging onto the counter so I wouldn’t faint. I felt for the switch behind me and snapped the lights on.

Trevor stood in the middle of the bathroom, swaying back and forth. He was three years older, eighteen and skinny, with a jutting Adam’s apple and a spray of acne on his neck and chin. In the fluorescent light, his skin looked clammy and pale. Greasy hair clung to his forehead. He looked me up and down and grinned, displaying a mouthful of teeth that looked like they had moss growing on them.

I could not understand why Cressida hooked up with him from time to time—usually late at night after they got back from some party. I’d heard her tell Ginger that they were “friends with benefits.” I would hear them together in her bedroom when Ramona was away. Cressida made really loud noises, and her room was next to mine. It was almost like she wanted me to hear.

I would just put in my earbuds and turn up my music.

Trevor took a step over to me. “Welcome to my bathroom. Make yourself comfortable.” He stank of beer and weed, and I backed away. He burped and said, “You know, I was kidding about Eden. I like
you
, Lana.” He reached over to the wall and flicked the lights off.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“Gotta set the mood, babe.” His hands circled my waist. A scream rose up in my throat.
If you scream, they’ll all just laugh. Just last a few more minutes. Show them you aren’t scared of them.

“Trevor, wait!”

“We only have fifteen minutes, come on.” A slimy tongue forced its way into my mouth. I shoved him away and wiped my mouth.

“I am not going to kiss you!” I felt frantically for the light switch again.

“I
know
you like me,” he slurred. “Cressida’s not my girlfriend, you know. She won’t mind.” His hand slid down from my waist to the hem of my dress, and then crept under the skirt up my thigh. “And this is my party.”

“Stop it!” I hissed. I tried to push him away but his heavy body leaned hard against me. “What are you doing!”

“What you want me to do. Don’t front.” His breathing got louder and then his face was in mine again. His tongue probed my mouth. My brain was screaming to get away, but I couldn’t move. I pictured running out of the bathroom in front of all the other kids, with Trevor laughing at me, telling everyone how scared I was. The hand under my skirt slid higher until it touched my bottom. Another hand ran up my stomach and squeezed my breast.

I gagged. Beer sloshed in my stomach.

“Aw yeah, baby. You like that?” He started grinding his pelvis into mine.

I jammed my heel down on his sneaker and forced my knee up as hard as I could. It connected with his crotch. He yelped and jerked away from me just as I found the light switch.

There was no more noise coming from the den. Had everyone left? Was I alone with Trevor? His shocked expression twisted into rage. I made a move for the door, but he bolted forward and grabbed me. I tripped on the bath mat and landed hard on my knees. He put his hands on my shoulders and held me down, then slammed his fist down on the light switch.

The bathroom went black again. Terror clawed up my throat and I let out a strangled scream before Trevor clamped a sweaty hand over my mouth. It reeked of marijuana and lighter fluid.

“That hurt,” he snarled.

I knocked his hand off my face and screamed, “Let me out of here, Trevor! Our time’s up!”

“Nope. Not till you kiss it better.” I heard the sound of a zipper and my heart seized up. His fingers dug into my shoulder. He pushed my face towards his crotch, but I ducked my head away.

“Let me out of here now, you asshole!” I rasped.

“Shh…just do it, Lana,” he whispered. “Come on.”

He grabbed me by the back of my hair so I couldn’t move my head. I tried to stand again but his fingers bit deeper into my shoulders. My knees ached on the cold tile floor and my head spun.

Nausea took over.

I heaved until I threw up.

He jumped away from me, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees, retching until there was nothing left in my stomach.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Thought you’d be cool.” I heard a zip. The bathroom stank of puke and sweat and Christmas potpourri.

I couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t be alive. He knelt down next to me. “You gotta clean this up, okay? It’s fuckin’ gross. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you barfed.”

The door opened and closed.

I was alone in the dark.

***

The basement was deserted when I finally got the courage to leave the bathroom. As I crept up to the first floor, I heard loud music and screams of laughter coming from the backyard.

No one saw me leave the house.

I ran up the road barefoot, carrying my shoes and sobbing. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to kill Trevor, but if I told my dad what happened, he’d probably want to go to the police. Would anyone believe me? There was no proof Trevor forced himself on me, even though he’d tried. And he didn’t actually do anything…I stopped him in time. Plus, everyone there heard me ask for extra time in the bathroom with him.

My choices were I had no choice. I’d have to go to school and pretend nothing happened.

For not the first time, I wondered if I would see my mother if I killed myself. People who commit suicide can’t go to heaven, according to my research, but maybe there was a special room in hell for people like us—people who aren’t murderers.

People who are just too sad to live.

I let myself in the maid’s entrance by the kitchen. The Crawford mansion was silent—no sign of Ramona or her friends. I dropped my shoes by the door and tiptoed to the walk-in pantry to grab a bottle of water, before retreating upstairs to my room.

I was still in the pantry when I heard voices outside. It was Ramona’s high-pitched laughter, just outside the French doors that led out to the pool and grounds.

I couldn’t let her see me. My dress, Cressida’s dress, which I had sworn to return unharmed, was splattered with vomit. Worse, I was supposed to be out for the night. She’d be furious that I’d disobeyed her.

I pulled the pantry door closed and prayed.

The pantry smelled like garlic. I watched through a thin crack as the French doors swung open and Ramona stumbled in. Her face looked uncharacteristically flushed. She held a bottle of champagne and two empty flutes.

A man I’d never seen before stepped inside behind her. Their hair was wet and slicked back, and they wore the matching white robes from the pool house. The robes had been a wedding present for her and my dad. The man wore the one with the J embroidered on the breast pocket. He was tall and broad, with a bald head and a wide, brutish face.

Ramona set the bottle and glasses on the black marble island. The man walked up behind her and pressed his body against hers.

“Where were we, Mrs.
Goodwin?” he purred in her ear. He pushed the collar of her robe away from her neck, exposing her shoulder. He bent his head and kissed her there. She closed her eyes.

“I’m still Mrs. Crawford. You know I never changed it, Wade.”

I couldn’t look away. The man crouched down a little. I could only see them from the waist up. Ramona leaned forward against the island. He yanked the back of her robe up.

“Will you change it for me?” Her lips twitched into a smile and she gasped in pleasure.

She closed her eyes, and splayed her arms out wide on the marble counter. The top of her robe slipped down, exposing small, tanned breasts with dark nipples. He pressed against her from behind.

I could not believe what I was witnessing. Horrified, I clapped a hand to my mouth and my elbow knocked over a glass bottle of gourmet tomato sauce on the shelf next to me. It toppled over and exploded on the travertine floor.