Chapter 16
Luna
“Darling, forgiveness is the truest pattern of love one can weave.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Luna couldn’t sleep despite the supremely comfortable bed and her bone-deep exhaustion.
The events of her busy day dogged her—the truth about what had happened with Paul all those years ago, the mistakes she made, the wrong turns she took, the mother she had to find a way to fully forgive . . .
She and her mother hadn’t been alone together since their showdown in the chapel that afternoon, and she dreaded working on the quilt with Jeanie.
And Luna couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to kiss Paul again. Which was supremely stupid given her current life circumstances, she knew, but she couldn’t stop thinking it.
Gak! She needed some air.
Quietly, so as not to awaken the household, she dressed in yoga pants and a long-tailed T-shirt, shoved her feet into flip-flops, and tiptoed out the back door of the B the only activity was at the tiki bar where she’d eaten tacos with Paul the previous evening. Luna detoured toward the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he wasn’t there.
Disappointed, she changed direction and walked to the beach. The clouds parted and the receding surf glistened palely in the light of the half-moon. She removed her flip-flops and held them between two fingers as she sank her toes into the damp sand. She took a deep breath and felt her body relax.
It was eerily silent but so very peaceful. She’d never been anywhere so calm and restful.
From the darkness, an approaching golf cart appeared. She watched it draw closer and saw it was one lone person. A man.
Her heart leaped.
Paul.
She stopped walking and he pulled up beside her.
“Good evening, Moonbeam.” He grinned.
“Hey,” she said. “You’re out late.”
“Making my nightly rounds. How about you? What’s got you out for a solo stroll?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We scuffed up a lot of old wounds today.”
“No kidding.”
“I talked to your mom.”
“I saw. How did that go? She didn’t tell me about it.”
“We’re good, Jeanie and I.” He bobbed his head, and his smile melted her heart into a puddle. “We made our peace.”
“You forgave her?”
“I did.”
“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
“Hey, I’ve worked hard for my peace of mind.” His smile softened. “Don’t think I haven’t had my moments.”
“I admire you for it and wish I could get there.”
“You’re on the path.” His kind eyes held her gaze and she had an urge to cry happy tears. Hard to believe they were together again, and it felt . . . easy.
Too easy, really. Easy scared her.
“Would you like to go with me to water the plants in the butterfly hatchery? It’s my last stop before I head home.”
“I would love that.”
He leaned over and opened the passenger door. She slid inside, feeling wildly giddy.
Putting the golf cart in gear, he guided the electric vehicle off the beach and onto the cobblestone path. Overhead, a blanket of stars illuminated their way.
“I met Orion today. She’s a lovely young woman. It seems our daughters are becoming friends,” she said.
“I heard.”
Luna exhaled. The question on the end of her tongue had been circling her brain ever since Orion introduced herself in the quadrangle that afternoon. “Do you think we should tell them about us?”
“I already told Orion about you.”
“What?” Startled, she stared at him.
“I told her the truth. That you were my first love.”
“When was this?”
“A few years back, actually. When we were passing through Julep, I stopped to show her my dad’s and my grandparents’ gravestones.”
“You told her about me, way back then?”
“Yep. I don’t keep things from my kid.”
That felt like an indictment, even though she knew he didn’t mean it that way. “What does she think about me being Artie’s mom?”
“I haven’t told her that part yet. I was waiting . . .”
“On what?”
He turned his head to look at her. “You.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Luna put a hand to her throat.
“Whether you wanted Artie to know about us or not.”
“Oh, I see.” Luna felt disappointed but had no idea what she hoped he might say. “I suppose I need to tell her.”
“That’s up to you, but you are here until the end of July, so maybe sooner rather than later.”
Of course, she had to tell Artie about Paul. Especially if she intended on seeing him. Did she intend on seeing him?
Then again, considering Artie’s recent losses, it seemed kinder not to confuse her with talk of an old flame when Luna’s future with Paul was uncertain at best.
“You can’t control everything, Moonbeam,” Paul said.
“Huh?”
“You’re rubbing your knuckles.”
“Darn it.” She folded her hands in her lap.
They drove past the storybook cottages where the island residents lived, and Paul pointed out his bungalow nestled amid palms and jacaranda trees. Luna tried focusing on the lingering briny ocean scent and hypnotic sound of the receding tide.
Her mind spun scenarios of Artie’s reaction, each possibility worse than the previous.
Paul reached over to give her hand a gentle squeeze and steered the cart off the main path, heading toward the butterfly hatchery. He changed the topic and for several minutes, they reminisced about high school.
“Do you remember Mr. Garrison’s awful trigonometry tests?” Luna groaned.
“I blocked out most of that trauma,” Paul said.
“I haven’t forgotten. We spent so many lunch periods in the library studying together, trying to make sense of sines and cosines.”
Laughter knitted them together as they shared other memories—bonding over their mutual dislike of study hall, competing to see who could build the best volcanoes in science, vying for top grades in AP Literature.
“I’ll never forget our first real date at the county fair. At the top of the Ferris wheel, I worked up the courage to kiss you. I knew then I was falling for you.”
“Me too.” The sweet and clear memory was vivid in her mind. “And you won me a Kewpie doll at the ring toss. I was so impressed.”
“Your big smile pumped my ego. I walked on air for a week.”
It was fun being with him. Especially now that his secret was out, and he had nothing to hide.
They topped a hill, and the wind blew Luna’s hair every which way. She felt youthful and curious, ready to explore.
“I have a question,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Do you raise a vegetable garden?”
“We do. In fact, we grow much of our food here.”
“No wonder the food tastes so delicious. I haven’t had a mediocre meal since I’ve been here.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t do it alone. Dot is a helluva gardener and we also have two employees who come over from Everly.”
The butterfly hatchery was a glass greenhouse lit bright from inside. It glowed like a welcome beacon. Paul parked and offered his elbow to her, and they strolled over to the building.
Luna clung to his arm, appreciating his muscled bicep. Gardening had honed his body lean. He opened the outer door and then a second screen door. Classical music played low from a boom box balanced on a metal stool. To the left of the screen door was a table set up with a display of cocoons on it.
One was moving.
“Oh look!” Luna rushed over for a better look. “One’s hatching!”
Paul came to stand beside her.
Fascinated, she leaned over, placed her palms on her knees, and watched the butterfly emerge. Over the course of a few minutes, its crinkled wings smoothed and expanded into perfect, colorful fins.
“How amazing.” She breathed. “But I suppose this is old hat to you.”
“It’s still a miracle,” he said, moving to a sink in the far corner and filling a watering can from the tap. “I’m awed every day by the magic of Hobby Island.”
The butterfly fluttered hesitantly and then lifted off in a wobbly test flight. It zigged and zagged around the room, joining the hundreds of other butterflies in the humid greenhouse filled with water dishes, saucers of fruit slices, and flowering plants.
“Look at that little guy go!” Luna laughed and clapped.
“I love seeing you so happy,” he said, his voice husky as if recalling a time when they were happy together.
Her breath caught and their eyes met. They stared into each other. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. Scary stuff, this feeling.
“Here,” Paul said, giving Luna one of the two watering cans he’d filled. “You start watering the plants on the left side and I’ll start on the right and then we’ll meet in the middle. Watch where you step. Butterflies light on the ground sometimes.”
Whistling, he went about his work. Careful where she put her feet, Luna moved to water a row of blooming milkweed in potted containers. Roused by her movements, butterflies flew up from the vegetation. It took several minutes, but when she finished, she found herself in the middle of the room, butterflies dancing around the hatchery.
“Good job,” he said. “Thank you for your help.”
“Thanks for bringing me along. This place is so peaceful.”
“It’s one of the reasons I save the butterfly hatchery for the last of my gardening chores. Makes for sweet dreams.”
“I can see that.” She tipped her head back, watching the butterflies swooping and circling.
Paul was so close. Right beside her. Boldly, she leaned against his shoulder.
Then equally bold, he wrapped his arm around her waist. She nuzzled closer, feeling lifted, transformed by this experience. Maybe second chances were possible. Maybe broken hearts could learn to fly again.
They were completely alone, just her and Paul.
Luna was in serious trouble.
Not from the incredible majesty of watching butterflies break from their cocoons and pump up their wings to take flight. Not from the place lush with goldenrod, snapdragons, and daylilies. Not from the soothing classical music that had her toes tingling to the vibrating violins in Vivaldi’s “Spring.”
Those impressive things didn’t cause Luna’s turmoil.
Rather, it was the gorgeous man beside her, his arms outstretched. Head thrown back, eyes closed, a huge smile on his face. Literally hundreds of butterflies were lighting on him, their wings beating in perfect time to his breathing.
It was such a startling sight, Luna felt hypnotized, mesmerized by his zest for life. She was both envious of and awestruck by Paul Chance. How did he do it?
Not a single butterfly landed on her. The main attraction was too near, how could the creatures do anything else but go to him?
“Show-off,” she said.
“What?” he asked, one corner of his mouth quirking up.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
Luna shook her head at Paul’s butterfly-attracting powers. “All right, Mr. Butterfly Whisperer, what’s your secret?”
“It’s my animal magnetism,” Paul deadpanned.
“Uh-huh.” Luna held out her arms and concentrated, eyes squeezed shut. After a minute, she cracked one eye open. Not a single butterfly. “How come they’re not landing on me?”
Paul chuckled. “Here, I’ll help.”
He moved behind her, his breath tickling her ear. Luna shivered as his hands slid down her arms, positioning them just so.
“You have to relax.” His fingers grazed her waist. “Let go, Moonbeam. Let go.”
Luna inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the delicious flutter his touch stirred inside her. She focused on loosening her muscles, leaning back into Paul’s solid frame.
After a moment, a curious butterfly floated down and landed on her finger. “Oh, oh! Look, look! I did it!”
“See? I knew you had it in you.” Humor tinged his voice.
More butterflies swirled around Luna as she stood enveloped in Paul’s arms, eyes closed, heart humming, attuned to the gentle brushing of butterflies crawling over her arms.
She opened her eyes to find Paul smiling tenderly at her and she fell in love with him all over again. Even the butterflies adored him, for he was ringed by the colorful creatures.
“Let go. Let life unfold naturally,” he whispered.
As if it was that simple.
“We’ll get you there,” he said, reading her mind. “Step by step . . . if that’s what you want.”
She searched for her voice. She liked that he said “we” as if he were already committed. “I . . . don’t know what I want. My life is a mess. In flux.”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“You do know.” He gently tapped two fingers at her chest right above her heart. “You’ve just forgotten.”
Unerringly, he reached for her, and she let him fold her into his arms. It surprised her how much his touch unraveled her.
An old memory replayed in her mind, Paul tugging a white T-shirt over his head, muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, breathlessly inching it down. She’d been so eager for him, once upon a time.
Honestly, she still was.
Sweat beaded her upper lip. It was sultry in here.
Paul dipped his head, and she was certain he would kiss her. She tensed, waiting, ready.
But he didn’t kiss her.
Just peered deeply into her eyes.
Making a noise of frustration, Luna leaned in and rested her palm against his chest. Beneath her hand, she felt his heartbeat. It pounded at the same quick tempo of her own wild ticker.
Paul’s lips twitched as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t speak, didn’t move.
Luna needed no more encouragement than that. Going up on tiptoe, she gently pressed her lips to his, and the honey-scented world around them fell into oblivion.
His warm angular lips yielded right away. His taste both familiar and new, leaving her scared yet craving more.
“Luna . . .” His voice shook. “What are you doing?”
“No idea.” She felt reckless and loved it.
Her arms went around his neck, and his hand went to her waist. He tugged her closer and took over the kiss she started.
A shiver tripped down her spine. She savored the moment and the sweet taste of him on her tongue.
Paul groaned.
Luna threaded her finger through his hair, the strands as silky and thick as ever. He escalated things, his tongue sliding between her parted teeth.
They teleported back two decades and found themselves on the Julep water tower, leaving Hobby Island far behind, and they kissed as if tomorrow didn’t exist.
Paul tightened his grip, tipped her head back, and moved his lips from her mouth to the underside of her jaw. He found the erogenous zone that fired her up and nibbled her skin. He remembered what turned her on!
A blazing thrill ran through her.
Kissing Paul felt like coming home after a long absence. Their breaths mingled as he returned to her mouth. His free hand cupped her cheek, his tender touch anchoring them together.
It was too much, too soon, and she knew it.
Why had she started this? She was not impulsive or spontaneous. Quite the opposite. Paul brought out something latent in her. An untamed fierceness that both pleased and scared her.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Me either. Just making sure we’re in sync.” He brought his lips to hers again. His taste intoxicated her, dragging Luna deeper under the spell the island had been weaving around her from the moment they’d arrived.
His touch seemed to burn through the fabric of her shirt, and she could feel the heat of his palm spread over her waist. He kissed her like she was his saving grace.
This slow, steady kiss lasted and lasted and lasted as if their lips danced to some long-forgotten tune only the two of them could hear.
The need for air finally drove them apart, their heavy breathing mingling in the breezy night air. Their kisses stirred up feelings she tamped down years ago. Feelings of love and longing, of hurt and betrayal.
Shocked at what she’d done, Luna stepped back, gasping. Her life was a hot mess. She wasn’t ready for this.
Wasn’t ready for him.
Her heart hammered, lost and uncertain.
Fear, that ever-present emotion that had dogged her since early childhood whenever she woke up in strange campgrounds or on some random person’s couch or entered new school classrooms alone, gripped her.
Paul’s mouth pulled down in a mournful expression. “You’re regretting this.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was a mistake.”
“Moonbeam.” He reached for her, but she twirled away.
The genuine emotion in his voice tightened her muscles, kicked her soul. Her heart ached for all they’d lost. But there was no going back. She’d been trying to recapture the past, but it was long gone. They weren’t who they used to be. These feelings belonged in the past and she was only confusing herself.
And him.
“It’s not . . . I don’t mean to sound trite, but we’re not the same people we once were. I was foolish for a ridiculous moment and lost my head. Please forgive for me.” She took a shuddering breath to calm herself, but the tactic didn’t work.
Tangible fear lay like a rock in the pit of her stomach and sent a cold current flowing through her veins.
“It was just a kiss, Luna. Don’t build a story around it. Just let it be.” He sounded so sensible. He had changed, growing up and calming down. She liked Paul 2.0 even better than the original.
And the original had been pretty darn special.
“Yes, right.” She settled a hand on one hip, her feet already pointing toward the door. “I need to go. I need to think. To process everything that’s happened.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “I’ll take you back to the Nestled Inn.”