Valley of the Moon (18 page)

He sneezed into a handkerchief. “Got a cold and I want to rest today. Gotta be healthy for the big day tomorrow, right?” I sat on the bed next to him. His face was thin and gray.

“Maybe you should call the doctor. You don’t look that great.” I put my hand to his forehead and he pushed it away.

“I’m fine! Cesar had the same thing last week.” He coughed hard—a thick, wheezy rattle.

“Dad! Are you sure you’re okay? You look tired.”

“I’m old. Of course I’m tired.” He smiled at me, but I could see tension in the lines on his face. “What are your plans today?”

“I just have to go to Maya’s and pick up my graduation dress. Candy made it.”

“Ah, that’s right! You’re going to look beautiful.” He brushed his hand on my cheek. “You look more like her every day.” He pointed at his dresser. It bristled with photos: the two of them laughing, my mom holding me as a newborn, my mom in her simple, elegant wedding dress, the three of us at the opening of my dad’s first car shop in downtown Glen Ellen.

It was hard for me to be in his room too long. I walked over to the door.

“Hey, think you can do me a favor before you leave?” he asked.

“Sure, Dad.”

“Meet me in the barn in ten minutes.”

***

The barn’s sliding doors were open and all the lights were on. I stepped inside and saw my dad leaning against a car that was hidden under a silky black cover. He still looked pale but he had a huge grin on his face. He looked almost giddy.

“Dad? What’s going on in here?”

He raised his eyebrows and stroked his chin. “Oh, not much. But I heard somebody around here is graduating from high school tomorrow—and turning 18 the day after.”
Don’t get too excited. He probably put new wiper blades on your Golf.
He kept smiling like a devil at me. “I couldn’t think of what to get you. So, I decided to give you this old hand-me-down.”

He reached down and pulled off the car cover with one dramatic tug. The black silk billowed to the floor, revealing his sparkling, spotless Ferrari Maranello. My eyebrows shot up and my mouth dropped. The navy paint gleamed in the bright lights.

“No. Way. Dad? Are you serious?” My dream car. It was at least fifteen years old but looked brand-new.

“Way. A beautiful car for my beautiful little girl. But no speeding—promise?” He couldn’t stop smiling at me. He looked happier than I had seen him look in weeks.

“But, Dad,” I protested. “What about paying Victor back? Shouldn’t you sell it instead of giving it to me?”

He shrugged. “Well, turns out that because of its blue book and some prior history, I can’t. I’m stuck with it. So it’s yours.” I just looked at him, waiting for him to change his mind. Instead, he opened the driver’s side door. “Go ahead—get in.” He gathered up the car cover and tossed it into a corner. “You’ve driven it, so you know it’s fast. The speedometer and the brakes are your friends. But—you never know when you might need to make a clean getaway.” He just stared at me. I laughed. He didn’t.

“I promise I’ll be careful. Wow, this is just—I cannot believe this. Dad, thank you so much, I love you!” I wrapped him in a huge hug and squeezed. He hugged me back, but then started coughing. A deep, phlegmy cough. He backed away.

“Dad?” I took a step towards him. He grimaced and gritted his teeth.

“Just this damn cold I caught. Nothing test-driving a Ferrari can’t cure.”

***

My body fit perfectly in the snug racing seat. The pedals felt like an extension of my feet. The engine leaped to obey my every command. And the sound of the engine—that unmistakable low Ferrari scream—was exhilarating. I buzzed through Glen Ellen and caught the admiring stares of the rabble, trapped in their boring, ordinary cars. Mortals!

My dad seemed tense in the low bucket seat next to me. He gripped the side of his seat, hard. He hadn’t been a passenger in my car since 10th grade. He had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and his mouth was set in a rigid line. I pushed the car a little faster.

“If you’re really not going to sell this car, maybe we should sell the house. You can use the money to pay back the loans. We’ll get a fresh start, like you wanted. Remember?” I glanced over at him as I cruised north. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him move his hand off the edge of the leather seat and onto his chest. The edge of the leather seat had deep finger marks where his hand had been.

A huge cough racked his body. When he recovered, he said, “Don’t worry about Victor Savitch. This business is between me and him.”

“But Dad! How are you planning to pay him back?”

“Dammit Lana, drop it, okay?”

“What do you mean? Who is he?” My foot lowered on to the gas pedal. The car leapt forward.

“Lana—” His voice broke and a strangled sob choked his throat. He coughed deeply again and started breathing fast. Too fast. His hand clutched his chest.

“Dad?” He shook his head, his face ashen.
Oh no. Not again. No, please.

“Hospital,” he croaked. His head slumped over and rested against the window. It was all I could do to not crash the car. I drove north like a maniac. By the time I got to Santa Rosa, there were flecks of foam on his lips and his skin had a blue cast to it. I double-parked outside the ER at Santa Rosa Memorial and ran around to the passenger door, screaming for help. A young ambulance driver ran over. He helped me drag him out of the car, then he laid him out on the sidewalk and ripped his shirt open. Buttons flew. He started performing CPR.

Then I was being helped up and my father was on gurney and we were rushing into the hospital, galloping down an endless white corridor. My thoughts were just one long white scream.
Death. It's coming for him.
Coming for him, and then me. To finish what it started.

The gurney flew through the swinging doors.

I watched him disappear down a long hallway before I sank to the floor, sobbing.

The moaning woke me up.
Two Filipina nurses were adjusting the bandages on my father’s chest as he writhed half-conscious in the bed. I crawled out of the cot, stiff and aching, still in my clothes from the day before.

“Lana,” he mumbled weakly. The nurses rolled him onto his side and I took his hand. It was cold and felt paper-light, like all the blood had been removed.

“I’m here, Daddy.” His blue hospital gown had orange stains on it. His face was gray and drawn. He opened his eyes and tried to smile at me, but it looked more like a wince. “You’re okay, Dad. You had surgery. You’re going to be fine, I promise.” Emergency double-bypass heart surgery, to be exact. The doctors said he would most likely make a full recovery in time.

“There, all done,” one of the nurses said. “
We had to make sure your incisions were draining, Mr. GOODWIN.”
She said it loud, as if he was deaf. They adjusted his gown and I pulled the thin blanket back over him and tucked it in. He closed his eyes.

My cell phone rang and I scrambled to pull it out of my bag.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Lana.” My skin crawled when I heard the gravelly voice on the other end. Victor Savitch. Even over the phone he gave off creepy vibes. “I have not heard from your father, and we have something important to discuss. Do you know where he is?” I debated whether I should stall him or lie. I decided the truth would make the perfect excuse.

“Actually, he’s very sick. He’s in the hospital.”
Because of you, you jerk!
“He won’t be able to talk for at least a few weeks.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. I’m sorry to hear this. And right before your birthday.” My stomach curdled. He knew my birthday. What else did he know?

“I have to go now, Victor. My dad needs me.”

“Yes, he does. Now more than ever it seems. If you want to help your father, meet me at my boat tomorrow. We need to discuss your situation, which I’m afraid is not so good.”

Fear fluttered up my spine. “What do you mean? Look, I know all about the loan he got from you. And don’t worry, we are going to pay it all back, okay? We just need a little time.”

I just wanted him to leave us alone, at least for the time being. I was so mad at my dad for ever thinking he could do business with someone like Victor. He was the worst judge of character

Except for my mom. He got that one right.

Victor was silent on the other end of the call. “Victor? Are you still there?”

“Maybe you didn’t know that the collateral on the loan is a small ranch house on Chauvet Road in Glen Ellen. Because he failed to make payments on time, I own the title at midnight tonight.”

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. My hand squeezed the phone and I started to hyperventilate. When I caught my breath, I spoke through gritted teeth.

“So after you steal our house, does that mean our loan is paid and you’ll leave us alone?” I said.

“Lana.” His voice had an edge like a knife. “I’m giving you one more chance. For your birthday. Unless you’d prefer to meet at the hospital?”

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. “Where do you want me to go?”

“The Marin Yacht Club in San Rafael. Berth 38. Be there at ten tomorrow. This is not a request.”

***

Cesar and Candy arrived an hour later. The second he saw me, Cesar grabbed me by the arm and hustled me into the hallway, leaving Candy at my dad’s bedside, crying and praying the rosary. He pushed me into a little waiting room off the hallway decorated with a few pleather chairs and a soda machine.

“Your dad has a big problem, Lana. His name is Victor Savitch.”

I nodded. “I know all about him.”

Cesar pressed his lips together in a pained grimace. “Victor called the shop morning. Told me it was closed until further notice. He says the shop and all the cars are his, starting today.” I gasped and clapped a hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry, honey. I warned him not to get involved with a guy like that!”

“I don’t get it—who is Victor? Can’t we go to the police?”

He stared at me. “We can’t. Not yet. He’s Russian mafia. He’s got these two thugs who protect him, and they’re bad news. If we go to the cops, who knows what those guys will do.” I sat down in one of the pleather chairs and cradled my head in my arms.
This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare.

“What am I supposed to do? Wait until he comes to me for his money? He wants me to meet him tomorrow to discuss it!”

Cesar’s face blanched. “Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. You go to graduation. We’ll stay here and watch your dad. After, come straight to our house and we’ll make a plan.”

I gaped at him. “I can’t leave my dad, Cesar! Anyway, I don’t even have my gown.”

A female voice spoke up. “Really? After all those hours my mother slaved over this? You’re going, okay?” I looked up.

Maya was standing in the hallway with my graduation dress in her arms.

***

I got out of the hospital shower and wrapped myself in a thin towel not much bigger than a washcloth. My dad was fast asleep in his hospital bed, but his color was a little better. Maya waved me over to the cot and I submitted to her beauty wizardry. She had come dressed up and ready to go to the graduation with me.

“Did you know I called Evan to invite him?” she asked.

“He’s coming?”

“Yep!” She brushed my hair out in great big swoops, wielding her brush expertly. “That psychic was nuts, but she was right about Evan. Hey, did you ever figure out what she was talking about? Tamara or whatever?”

“Uh, no.” I couldn’t tell her the truth. Even I didn’t believe it. Well, maybe I believed it a little.

After I dried my hair, Maya helped me with my makeup. When we were done, my hair hung down my back in shiny waves, and my face looked like I had actually gotten more than two hours of sleep the night before. I stepped into the graduation dress and pushed my feet into her mother’s strappy nude stilettos, on loan for the day.

“The shoes feel great, please tell your mom she is the best.” I zipped my dress up and presented myself for her approval.

She clapped her hands together. “Okay, I’ve outdone myself.” The gown was lustrous white silk with spaghetti straps, a snug bodice, and a flowing skirt that fell to the floor. I tottered over to my dad’s bed and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you daddy,” I whispered. “See you soon.” His chest rose and fell, and the machines beeped in response.

Maya led me away by the elbow. “Cry and I’ll kill you. I don’t have time to fix that makeup.”

***

The late afternoon sun glanced off Headmaster Wimbish’s bald spot like light bouncing off a chrome hubcap. He was droning on and on about our future. All the senior girls sat in folding white chairs on a platform set up on the back lawn of the school, facing the audience. We were all in long white gowns and held matching small bouquets of pink tea roses. My skin prickled in the heat. The tight bodice of my dress was pressing uncomfortably into my ribcage, but the pain was one of the only things keeping me awake.

I picked out Maya in the audience. You couldn’t miss her—she had pinned an elaborate fascinator to her head. Next to her, I spotted Evan, the Blodgetts, and Wyatt.

“…and as Briar graduates, these marvelous young women are prepared for anything the future throws at them,” Wimbish intoned.

My eyes continued to rake the crowd. There was Ramona in huge sunglasses and a sharp black suit. Eden sat next to her, squirming in a flouncy pink dress. A few rows behind them I spotted Martin Crawford with a young, pretty blonde in a white linen suit. I guessed she was Alicia, Martin’s new wife.

Martin was the same as I remembered: nerdy, with a long, pointed nose and the same huge blue eyes as Cressida. I’d only met him once. He was tanned bronze and had mysteriously grown more hair. Well, he did move to L.A. My eyes flicked back to Ramona. Her face was like stone. I wondered how she felt about Martin and his new bride being there.

Headmaster Wimbish was still going strong. “This class has distinguished themselves in remarkable ways. Our valedictorian has the highest GPA in Briar history. Our salutatorian, with the second highest GPA in the class, has a higher GPA than last year’s valedictorian. That’s what makes Briar girls unique—always striving for perfection.” I could almost hear sixty pairs of eyes rolling as he said that. “And now, I’d like to introduce this year’s valedictorian, Iman Zakiya-Young, who will be attending Yale.” He stumbled over her last name.

Iman stood up and the audience hooted and cheered.

“And our Salutatorian, Lana Rose Goodwin, who will be attending Columbia.”

The audience clapped. Maya whistled. I had not gotten this memo. The light hurt my eyes. Headmaster Wimbish craned his head to look in my direction.

“Lana, stand up!” Piper hissed from the row above me. I stood up, wobbling in Candy’s heels. I squinted in the bright sun and gave the crowd a little bow. Movement near the back of the crowd caught my eye. I watched as tall guy wearing all black slipped out of the back row and disappeared behind the hedges surrounding the lawn. A blonde woman in a red suit stood and followed him. They both looked familiar. I sat down and my breath hitched in my throat.
It can’t be them. They wouldn’t come here, would they?

“Thank you, girls. And now, I invite all of you to join us at the Ball, which will be held immediately following the ceremony in the Athletics Pavilion.” The ball!

The Briar Ball was the dance held every year after graduation. It was basically a debutante ball. Seniors had to be escorted in by their fathers, or if the father was unavailable, another adult male relative. Each girl’s name was announced as her escort led her into the ball.

I had been dreading it all year, and that was when my dad was healthy. My escort was lying in a hospital bed, and I had no backup plan. I would be walking in alone. It was a ridiculous tradition, but the idea of enduring one more Briar humiliation made me want to vomit.

As soon as the ceremony ended, the guests headed down the path from the main building towards the Athletics Pavilion. The seniors formed a line at the side door to the gym, with their escorts.

“Lana, I’m so sorry your dad can’t be here. Why don’t I escort you in with Piper?” Mr. Blodgett smiled kindly at me. Piper and I both towered over her dad in our heels.

“That’s okay, Mr. Blodgett. I’m fine.” The last thing I wanted to be was a third wheel to the ultimate father-daughter moment of ever.

Cressida and Martin Crawford were on their way into the line when Martin spotted me.

“Hey, kiddo! Great to see you! Wow, you’re all grown up!” He wrapped me in a tight hug as Cressida glowered next to him. She wore an elaborate white ball gown. The strapless bodice pushed her breasts sky high. Martin glanced awkwardly from me to Cressida. “Is your dad here, kiddo?”

“He couldn’t make it. He got really sick.”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, that’s a shame. Well, I have a spare arm if you need an escort. Cress, you don’t mind, do you?” He held his free elbow out to me. I saw Cressida grinding her teeth. She still hadn’t said a word to me.

“That’s really nice of you, Martin, but I promise I’m fine.”

Cressida pulled him away. “See? I told you, Dad. Now come on, we have to get in line.”

“We’ll catch up inside, Lana.” Martin winked at me as Cressida yanked him into the line.

I smelled cloying perfume and then Miss Grimm swept in front of me, holding a clipboard. She was encased in a shiny peach taffeta gown with puffy sleeves. Her sensible bob was curled and moussed stiff for the occasion.

“Miss Goodwin! Where in the world is your escort?”

“My dad’s sick, so I’m flying solo today, Miss Grimm.” The line had quieted down and other girls were listening to our conversation.

She grimaced. “Oh dear! Isn’t there another male member of your family we can ask?” This was getting ridiculous. Technically, I didn’t even go to Briar anymore. What was she going to do, suspend me?

“Did you say ‘male member,’ Miss Grimm?” I asked. Noelle Hoberman, standing next to me with her elderly grandfather, cracked before clapping a hand over her mouth. Miss Grimm scowled disapprovingly. “Look, Miss Grimm, can’t I just go in by myself?” I asked. “Aren’t we all supposed to be strong, independent women now?”

Piper called out from near the front of the line, “Hey, Lana! Want me to grab Wyatt?”

“I’ve seen you do that way too much, Piper,” I called back. “No thanks.” More laughter.

Miss Grimm bristled. “I’m glad you think this is funny, Miss Goodwin, but we have never allowed girls to make their entrance alone.”

“It’s 2016. Maybe it’s time to update the rule.” I heard a drumroll from inside the gym.

Miss Grimm gasped. “It’s starting!” She trotted to the front of the line, pointed to the first girl, and frantically waved her through the door. We were lined up in alphabetical order. Isabelle Atchison and her father strode into the gym, arm in arm. I heard the crowd cheer as her name was announced.