Just J (13 page)

The trees work together, blending one shadow into the next, trying to keep us in eternal darkness. I want to run from the creatures that inhabit this forest and move all around me.

Each twig-snap's echo is sustained. The trees play catch with the sounds, and I want to cover my ears, but I fear it would make it far too easy for one of the demons to sneak up on me. I can see Fanny staring into a crystal ball, controlling all the creatures of the night, cackling as she commands them to attack.

I look to the sky, hoping to see Aunt Guin coming to the rescue, descending in a pink dress with a magic wand, encapsulated in a silver blue moonlit bubble. I resist the urge to tap my heels together and say “There's no place like home” over and over again. At the very least, it would drown out the scurrying sounds that surround us.

“How much farther?” I say, unsettled by the tremble in my voice.

“Not far.” I'm further unsettled by the tremble in
his
voice and downright scared by the uncertainty.

I look down at my feet, hoping to see ruby slippers, but instead I see that we're no longer on the path.

“Where's the trail?” I ask.

Connor looks down and then quickly up again and increases his pace.

“Don't worry,” he says, which of course means that there's something to worry about.

“Please tell me you know the way.”

“Yeah,” he replies, even less convincingly than before.

“Connor?”

“I know the way in the daytime…sort of.” He tries to reassure me. “But I—I usually avoid the forest at night.”

“Didn't need to hear that,” I tell him.

“Wait,” he says, stopping.

“What?” I ask nervously.

“I think I see something.”

“What?” I ask more nervously.

“Light,” he replies. “An opening or an ending.”

Chapter Twenty-four

I
bring my face up next to Connor's. In the near distance, the darkness retreats into a pale blue that glistens like a swimming pool in the night. We push forward and, escaping the forest, emerge into an opening illuminated by cascading moonlight. On the far side are the remains of a large stone fireplace. As we walk toward it, the ground beneath our feet changes texture, and I look down to see that we're standing on a marble dance floor.

“This is it,” I say.

“What?” he asks, still nervous.

“Moonlight Palace.”

“But it's not buried,” he says.

Before the words even leave his mouth, sand descends upon us as gently as a Christmas Eve snowfall.

“It is,” I say as I watch each grain grab the moonlight to reveal a different moment in time. “And it isn't. It depends on which moment you're in. Moonlight Palace doesn't just take you back to its heyday; it takes you anywhere you want to go. You just have to choose.”

I turn to the left and see the water on the other side of a line of trees whose tops lean toward each other like dancers bowing to their partners at the end of a waltz. The shapes in between the trees form high-pointed ballroom windows, and the apparition of a chandelier of stars floats above us.

The marble floor catches the falling moonlight and glows from its touch. Bathed in the blue, I feel the light wrap itself around me, touching every part of me at the same time, holding me, comforting me.

I can smell the lake and the evergreens; their scents twirl around us, mixing with the fragrance of wild flowers floating through air so clean you'd think it had just been polished by snow. It's as if the seasons all came together to create one intoxicating fragrance.

Connor and I look at each other and smile.

He asks me to dance by bowing and extending his hand like a true nobleman. I take it and I look at him. The reflec–tion in his eyes is one I barely recognize.

I like who I see when I see myself in his eyes.

This time I kiss him. My first real kiss because it's not to forget but to remember. My body tingles with life, and time disappears.

Through a window I see the stars turn the black forest into a yellow wood.

We'll find our way, I say to myself, by making our own path. But not just yet.

“It's strange,” I say.

“Don't question it,” Connor tells me.

“That's not what I mean,” I reply.

“What, then?”

“When you know you have the power to go anywhere and do anything, you're happy just to dance.”

Together we sway to the sounds of the Moonlight Palace Orchestra. From behind the piano, Mom looks up, and an approving smile dawns on her rosy face.

Chapter Twenty-five

W
hen I get home, I run straight to the washroom. I'm bursting. While enjoying the great release, I also take pleasure in seeing how the bathroom has changed since that first night. A tall cabinet stands on the multicol–ored spiral-tiled floor.

Moonlight illuminates the harp in the center of the stained glass window. In the door's frosted glass, I spot a flickering yellow light.

Exiting the bathroom, I look into the living room where Aunt Guin sits in a brown leather chair by the fire that burns under a cherrywood mantel.

“Come in,” she says. I make my way past the paintings and the framed
Wizard of Oz
poster, admiring the grand piano before I sit across from Aunt Guin on the matching leather couch.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“It's just as I imagined,” I reply.

“There's magic down here. Your grandparents used to bring us up to the beach every year. Your mom was eleven the last time we came; I was seventeen.”

She stops talking, gets up, walks over to the fireplace and stokes the fire. I want to tell her about Moonlight Palace. I want to apologize for how I've behaved, but the flames give Aunt Guin a mournful look that stops me from saying anything.

I've never seen Aunt Guin look unhappy, and I want to say something that will make her happy again, but I see that she isn't finished speaking, so I wait.

“Things changed after that. I went off to university and came home less and less until finally, when your mom was about sixteen, I stopped coming altogether. Your grandpar–ents didn't approve of how I chose to live my life, but in all fairness, I didn't give them much of a chance to get used to it. I didn't even go to their funerals, and I wasn't going to go to your mom's. I was hiding in the park when I saw you talking to the ants. I knew at a glance who you were.”

“Didn't you love your family?” I ask.

“I loved them very much, especially your mom. But I try to avoid unhappy situations, never staying in a place long enough to get attached, taking each moment on its own. If nothing ever gets you down, you can fly as high and as far as you wish,” she says. Her voice lacks conviction.

“But when you fall, you've got nowhere to land,” I say.

She sighs.

“I thought it best not to depend on anyone. That way they can't let you down when you need them the most, which is when they always go.” Her words have a familiar ring, which stings me a little. “I've missed out on a lot, not getting to know you before now, just seeing how much you've changed over the summer. I'm glad I finally got that chance.”

“Why are you talking like you're leaving?”

She smiles and gives me a hug and a kiss on the fore–head.

“I just wanted to let you know that I'm honored to have met you. Now go to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow.”

“What's tomorrow?”

“It's important to ask questions, and you should never stop doing that. Except right now.”

She smiles again and the sparkle returns, but not as brightly as before.

“Go upstairs,” she says. “There's a bed waiting for you.”

I turn on the light in my room and burst out laughing at the mural she's painted on the wall. It's a mermaid with my face and hair, tangled in seaweed. She's holding a pocket watch that has no face at all and only a second hand. I climb into bed and dream of all that was and all that will be, while never forgetting where I am.

Chapter Twenty-six

I'
m awoken by the smell of bacon. I throw on my swim–suit and look out at the beach. The welcoming sun, whose beams playfully bounce off the rippling lake, calls for me to come and join in the games. I pull shorts and a T-shirt over my swimsuit and run down the stairs. Looking out front to see if Connor's stopped by, I notice that Art's van is gone.

“Aunt Guin,” I say as I run into the kitchen, where I see that it's real bacon frying in the pan. “Aunt Guin?”

The side door opens and I turn to see… “Dad?”

“J!” Billy yells, appearing from behind Dad's legs. He runs at me full steam, wrapping his little arms around my legs.

“Hey, buddy!” I say, bending down and giving him a big hug in return.

“How was your summer?” Dad asks, like he
hadn't
talked to me every week on the phone.

“Fine,” I say, to humor him. “Where's Aunt Guin?”

“She had to go. She called me last night to ask if I could come up and get you.”

“Why?”

“That's your Aunt Guin,” he says in a
par for the course
way.

Then a terrible thought creeps in. “Did Fanny come with you?”

“No,” he says dismissively.

“A house didn't land on her, did it?” I say before I can stop myself. I see a little smile on his face, but only for a second. Then it's gone.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“Billy,” Dad says, “can you go in the other room?”

“But there's no tv,” Billy says.

“You can play your Game Boy.”

“Okay,” Billy replies.

After Billy leaves the room, I turn to Dad and speak before he has a chance to lecture.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted at the funeral and after. I…”

“No, J, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm your father. I should have been there for you and I wasn't.”

“Dad, you were…”

“I was nothing…that's the problem. But that's going to change.” He takes a deep, strengthening breath. “I loved your mom very much. I still do.” I step toward him and he grabs hold of me and gives me a hug, the biggest I've ever gotten from anyone. Then he lets go and quickly turns away.

“Let's have some breakfast,” he says. “Billy!”

After breakfast I help Dad with the dishes.

“Mind if I go for a walk on the beach before we go?” I ask.

“No rush,” he replies. “I thought we might stay the weekend.”

“That'd be great,” I say. “Mind if I go for a walk on the beach anyway?”

“Not in the least.”

“Want to come?” I ask him.

“Maybe later.”

“Can I come?” Billy asks, staring at his Game Boy.

“Sure, but you have to leave your Game Boy here.”

“Okay,” he says, jumping off his chair.

“You are awfully obliging, young sir,” I tell him.

“What's that mean?” he asks.

“It means you're cool and I'm happy you're here.”

“I'm happy I'm here too,” he tells me, running out ahead.

Just before I exit, Dad yells, “Wait!” He comes to the door and hands me a letter. “Your Aunt Guinevere left you this.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Dad, why did Mom never tell me about Aunt Guin?”

“She was worried you'd want to get to know her and that you'd end up getting hurt when she eventually and inevitably stopped contacting you.”

“And what do you think?” I ask, wondering why he let me spend the summer with her if she's so dangerous.

He lowers his head for a moment, then looks at me again.

“Aunt Milly says you have to take the good with the bad, and she's right. Pain's a part of life. If you avoid it, you miss out on some of the best parts.”

“Dad?” I say.

“Yeah?”

“I'm not hurt, not really.”

“I know,” he says. “You're very resilient.”

“Dad?” I say.

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

He smiles.

“J?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

I smile.

Chapter Twenty-seven

A
t the top of the dunes I look at the house, which shines proudly, showing off its fresh white paint and its new green shutters. I sit and open the letter from Aunt Guin.

Art says good-bye.

I'm no good at good-byes.

I'm keeping the house.

See you next summer.

Love,
Aunt Guin

I fold the letter and put it in my pocket. I look down at the clear blue water and up at the clear blue heavens and smile. I let the sand form around me while Billy rolls down the dune, climbs to the top and rolls back down again. I close my eyes and feel the sun's warmth on my face. I'm happy it's there to watch over me.