The Mayfair Moon

  I heard him say then, “Traitor,” under his breath.

  Like the subject of Aramei, I knew it was best to leave the one of his mother alone too, but I was frustrated with my inability to avoid seemingly hazardous topics. I was learning little about Isaac Mayfair and raising even more questions. One day soon I would need the answers, but now wasn’t the right time.

  “Isaac,” I said, changing the subject, “why didn’t you talk to me before? I mean, about what happened with Rachel?”

  Another customer entered, letting a cool blast of air fill the space around us.

  Isaac shook his head, smiling very faintly at me. And then his eyes met mine, making my heart lock up in my chest. “I tried; remember? But you didn’t want to talk to me and I respected that.”

  “But you could’ve come over,” I said, “instead of sending Zia.”

  He slid the half empty mug away from him and crossed his hands upon the table in its place. I loved his hands; so strong and persuasive. I imagined my dainty hands enveloped by them, protected by them.

  “I could have, yes,” he said and I looked back up at his face, “but Rachel would’ve put up a fight and I thought it was better she didn’t know where you lived.”

  Isaac sighed and reached his hands across the table then, palms up. Gently, he slipped them underneath mine, uncurling my fingers with his own and brushed his thumbs across the sensitive skin above my knuckles. It was exactly as I had imagined it just seconds ago, that just his hands could make me feel utterly protected. I looked down at them; the warm blush in my face forcing my eyes to stray from his gaze.

  “I never expected this when I came here,” he said. “That I would meet you.” He was still looking right at me, but it was difficult for me to see his eyes, as if I were nervous about the unfamiliar world they would surely pull me in to. Though, I wanted to be in that world, no matter how nervous the thought of it made me. I tried to find a worthy response; one that might make me seem more confident than breakable, but I could think of nothing.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said suddenly, and finally I could look at him for a longer time. “Tell me about you.” He was beaming; eager for me to begin.

  I smiled softly and felt his fingers slip away from my palms as he leaned back into the booth seat again.

  “Not much to know about me, really,” I began, “but what do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” His close-lipped smile was more eager; his irresistible eyes, brighter. “Where were you born? Where have you been? What makes you tick?” He laughed. “I don’t care; anything you tell me I know will be interesting.”

  I thought to myself about how he must be easily entertained. And also to myself, I laughed. I couldn’t imagine how anything about my average, dull life would be conversation-worthy. Sadly, the most exciting thing in my life was my masochistic mother and her idiot husband and that wasn’t a topic I cared to bring up.

  “Well,” I began, “I was born in Atlanta, Georgia—moved to Athens when I was about five and lived there since until recently.”

  “Why did you move?” He sipped his coffee once more, but never took his eyes off me even to set the mug down.

  I didn’t want to lie to him. It was different than with friends at school who I had just met and didn’t feel comfortable telling the truth to. With Isaac, I felt like I could tell him anything. I didn’t want talk about anything negative, but more than that, I wanted to be truthful.

  I hesitated at first; taking one last sip of my drink before deciding that if I drank anymore I might feel sick.

  “Bad home environment, I guess.” I shrugged. “My mom married a guy who thinks she’s a punching bag when he gets too drunk.”

  He frowned and I could detect a hidden spark of anger behind his eyes.

  “Did he beat you?” he said.

  I felt like he was secretly fishing for answers now that he would surely file away for later when he could retaliate.

  “No,” I admitted. “He pushed Alex and me around some several years ago, but he never actually hit either of us.”

  I saw his jaw tighten subtly and could tell right away that the next sip of coffee was merely to conceal his expression.

  “Push around, hit, verbal abuse,” he said, “it’s all the same.”

  “I guess so,” I said, “but my mom needed me and I personally wasn’t affected by any of it much.”

  I suppose that wasn’t entirely the truth; I wouldn’t be the already grown up seventeen-year-old that I was, who had never been into relationships much, otherwise.

  “Let’s see,” I went on, looking upward at the orange-glowing light above our table, “what makes me tick?”

  He grinned then, waiting readily.

  “Can’t stand reality TV,” I said. “And when someone uses my bar of soap—it’s gross to think you’re washing yourself with something someone else has rubbed all over their private parts.” I visibly shuddered and noticed Isaac quietly laughing at me. “Hmmm,” I contemplated; surprised it was this difficult to remember these things. “Oh! Litterbugs. And smokers who flick their ashes out the car window—got some in my mouth once when mom was stopped at a red light. You think my soap phobia is funny; should’ve seen me flailing around in the front seat trying to spit the ashes out. The people in the car next to us probably thought I was retarded.”

  Isaac laughed. “I think I would’ve been thoroughly amused.”

  I smiled back at him.

  “What about travel?” he said. “Other than Maine, have you ever been anywhere outside of Georgia?”

  I nodded. “Went on a field trip my freshman year to Gulf Shores, Alabama. Dug for diamonds in Arkansas once.” I thought about it further until I realized I had not really seen much outside of Georgia. “I guess that’s it.”

  “Did you find any?” he said.

  “Find what?” And then I realized. “Oh, diamonds? No, I found a bunch of rocks that I thought were diamonds until the park employees looked them over and shattered my dreams.” I laughed and took another drink regardless of the caffeine overload.

  “What about you?” I said. “Surely you’re more interesting than I am.”

  “I doubt that,” he said with a soft smile. I knew he meant that out of context and once again he managed to make me blush.

  “Come on,” I said. “Indulge me.”

  He smiled and breathed in deeply. “I love the smell of rain and the sound of silence,” he said. “Nature. The ocean. The Universe.”

  I laughed. “You and my Uncle Carl would definitely get along.” I let him go on.

  “I’ve travelled a lot,” he said, “but I’d really like to get in one place and stay there.”

  I pulled forward some, folding my hands on the table out in front of me. I thought back to the night at The Cove, remembering what that man said about the Mayfair’s travel expeditions.

  “You must’ve been everywhere,” I said. “Kind of hard to choose a favorite place among so many, I bet.”

  “No,” he said simply. “Without thinking about it, I can say that Maine beats them all.” His smile was warm and unquestionable.

  A car pulled into the tiny parking lot then and Isaac turned his attention immediately to it. Oddly, he seemed to be smelling of the air as he inhaled a deep, abrasive breath. He glared out the frost-covered window next to us, watching the car with a curious intensity.

  “Someone you know?”

  “Yes, and I think we should leave.”

  He didn’t wait for me to say anything in response, but stood from the booth seat, slipped on his coat and took me by the hand.

  “Who is it?” I said as he walked me to the door.

  It seemed he never took his eyes off the parking lot. The car was still running, its headlights shining brightly through the dimly lit lot. I heard the engine rev when Isaac opened the glass doors and we stepped outside.

  “Bad company,” Isaac answered, practically dragging me to his car. “Looks like your sister is never
going to give up.”

  I swung my head around to see into the car, but the windows were tinted too dark and I could see nothing.

  Isaac urged me into the passenger’s seat and shut the door behind me.

  “Alex is in that car?”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” he said. “She’s not your sister anymore.”

  Isaac threw the car into gear and we sped away. The car didn’t follow, which surprised me. I kept looking back over the seat and through the frosted window, but all I saw was blackness.

  “Why didn’t they follow?”

  “No need to,” he said, “They already know where to find you. This is just their way of warning me.”

  I didn’t have to ask for Isaac to know that I needed more answers.

  “Your sister has an agenda,” he said, “one the Vargas family won’t let her forget.” He looked over at me harshly. “What did she say to you the night at The Cove? I need to know everything.”

  I just wished he would keep his eyes on the road. It seemed they were on me a little too much and I wondered how he could continue to drive without swerving once. His harsh stare penetrated me and made me uncomfortable.

  Telling Isaac ‘everything’ was out of the question; at least in this particular instance. I couldn’t bring myself to put him or Alex in anymore conflict. Bringing up the part about them threatening my life was a seriously bad idea. There was no telling what he might do.

  “Alex just wants me to stop hanging around you and Zia.”

  “She said more than that, I know.”

  “How do you know?” I said. “Are you calling me a liar?” I was a liar, but that was beside the point. I pretended to be slightly offended, but was impressed by his profound ability to read right through me.

  “Adria,” he said softening his eyes, “the Vargas family wouldn’t go through so much trouble if it were that simple.” He finally put his eyes on the road for a longer time, though I doubted he really saw it much. “And Viktor wouldn’t get involved if it was just a simple sisterly disagreement.”

  “Viktor?”

  “He’s their leader...well, their father, the one you saw at The Cove,” Isaac said, “but don’t change the subject.”

  “Okay,” I went on, “the only other thing she said was that she wanted me to move out and live with her and those jerks. She threatened me and tried to guilt-trip me, but that was all, I swear.”

  I could tell right away that Isaac didn’t believe me, but he didn’t pressure me for anymore answers.

  “Oh no!” I said, noticing the time in blue numbers on the dashboard. “Beverlee is gonna freak! It’s so late.” I reached in my coat for my cell phone, but realized I had left it at home, which explained why I had not received a call from Beverlee long ago.

  “I’ll take you home now,” said Isaac.

  I hated how focused and apprehensive he had become. His interest in me drained by the turn of events and our time together, cut short.

  Isaac dropped me off at home and insisted on walking me to the door. “You shouldn’t be out at night by yourself,” he said. It wasn’t necessarily a decent gesture as it was a concerned one.

  “I think I can manage the distance between your car and the front porch,” I said, grinning.

  He still went along, finding nothing funny about it.

  “Remember what I said about calling me if your sister comes here.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Finally, Isaac loosened up some and relaxed the serious expression in his eyes. He reached out and brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “But that doesn’t have to be the only reason you call me,” he said. “You know that too, right?”

  I could feel the blush in my cheeks hot like fire.

  The front door opened and Uncle Carl and Beverlee stepped out together; light from the living room spilled out onto the porch

  Isaac dropped his hand to his side.

  “Sorry I’m so late,” I said smiling.

  Isaac was very charming and much less intimidated by my Aunt and Uncle than I thought he would be. He reached out to shake Uncle Carl’s hand and he hesitantly accepted. He seemed suspicious of Isaac and against the gesture entirely, but his hand had a customary mind of its own.

  Isaac nodded and smiled at Beverlee.

  “Damien’s Jeep was having some trouble,” said Isaac, “and they were waiting for me to get back so I could give Adria a ride home.”

  Uncle Carl and Beverlee looked over at me simultaneously.

  “Yeah, and I forgot my cell, or I would’ve called.”

  “You couldn’t call from their house?” said Beverlee.

  I hadn’t thought of that, but apparently Isaac had. On the other hand, maybe he was just good at lying—not a good trait, but then again, I guess it is in necessary situations.

  “They were broke down about two miles from our house,” Isaac said. “I saw them as I drove past on my way home.”

  “Really sorry, Aunt Bev, Uncle Carl. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

  They lightened up then and Beverlee urged me inside.

  Uncle Carl reached into his wallet and took out a twenty. “Some gas money for bringing her home. We appreciate it.”

  Isaac respectfully waved the money away. “No, but thanks,” he said. “It really wasn’t out of my way. I’m heading to pick up one of my sisters not far from here.”

  I think that was a lie, too.

  “Alright then,” said Uncle Carl.

  It was obvious Uncle Carl and Beverlee had their doubts about leaving Isaac and me together alone on the porch, and so that didn’t happen. There was a split second when all four of us stood silent, until Isaac knew it was time for him to leave. He stepped off the porch. “Have a good night, Adria. I’ll tell Zia you wanted her to call you in the morning.”

  Our minds were synched almost perfectly already. I never told Isaac that, so I knew it was his way of telling me to call him in the morning.

  I watched Isaac walk toward his car and I couldn’t resist making a mental note of every step he made, how incredibly beautiful he was even when most of his features were obscured by the night. He glanced back at me once after he opened the door, and he smiled.

  I was completely into Isaac Mayfair. Everything just felt right, like it was meant to be. Whatever ‘it’ was.

  UP BEFORE TEN IN the morning, I decided that as much as I wanted to call Isaac that I would just let him sleep. At least that was the plan to tell him if later he asked why I waited so long. Really, I just didn’t want to seem so eager.

  Beverlee and Uncle Carl left early for work and I was alone in the house. I watched television for a while and then tried reading a new book, but I wasn’t much in the reading mood. I cleaned—seemed to be doing a lot of that lately—swept off the giant front porch and even watered Beverlee’s poor, dehydrated plants.

  I eventually did try calling Isaac before noon, but his cell didn’t ring and went straight to voicemail. A sure sign his phone had been turned off. “Hey, it’s me,” I said into the phone. “I know you’re probably still asleep; just wanted to call. Not necessarily the morning anymore, but you can’t say much now can you?” I laughed. “I’m cleaning the house for Aunt Bev, so I’ll talk to you later.”

  It was nice having the house to myself, but after a while, I was so bored I was going out of my mind.

  I ended up in the barn, sifting through stuff that looked like it had not seen sunlight in fifty years. Nothing of interest. Nothing I could identify much, either. A couple of old rusted bikes lay against the barn wall, a wooden baby bed tossed on a pile of other unknown junk. A desk covered in sawdust, lots of hay, though I wasn’t sure of its purpose since there were no animals to use it. The only thing that looked as though it had been taken care of was the bright red riding lawnmower parked near the front door. I only wished the barn were one of those that had a second floor. I could picture myself hiding up top with a good book and nothing to disturb me. This barn wasn’t as welcoming as those you
see in Lifetime movies. There were spider webs everywhere; the air stank of mildew. The roof probably had a year left in it before it started giving away completely, especially in the far corner where it looked close to falling through. I could even hear rats squealing and scurrying around.

  When I walked back out of the barn and stepped into the sunlight, I could’ve sworn I saw a figure move past the kitchen window in the house.

  Approaching the house with caution, I almost scared myself enough not to go any further. But it was the middle of the day, the sun was high in the sky, birds were singing and I could hear a plane passing by somewhere. Bad things don’t happen to people when the weather is nice; definitely not in broad daylight and when birds are chirping.

  It probably wasn’t anything at all, I thought.

  I walked up onto the porch, tiptoed to the living room window, and peeked around to look inside.

  Nothing.

  Ditching the paranoia, I walked right in and went to the kitchen to make a glass of iced tea. As I squeezed a lemon into it, I heard a creaking sound coming from upstairs. I had heard that distinct sound before, but only when Uncle Carl was walking out of his office and into the hallway restroom.

  Someone was definitely inside the house and I was too afraid to move. Quietly, I set the glass of tea onto the counter and opened the drawer closest to where I stood. Great. It was the drawer where Beverlee kept her collection of harmless wooden cutlery. The big, sharp knives were on the far side of the kitchen sitting securely in a knife display. I would have to walk around the enormous bar to get to it.

  Footsteps came down the stairs. I could see the shadow of a figure accompanying them.

  I dashed across the kitchen and reached for the knives, but instead knocked the whole display into the floor and even still the knives did not come out of it.

  “Adria,” said Alex, “what are you doing!”

  Shocked to see that it was my sister, I didn’t notice that I did manage to get one of the knives into my hand. I clutched it close to me.

  “Put down the knife.”

  When my heart rate slowed and I could think clearly, I placed the knife beside me on the bar.