Moonstone (20 page)

“You could have been watching me,” Kelsey said. “I used to come out here all the time in high school. If I wasn’t at swimming practice, I was here. I should have asked you to join me years ago.”

“Better late than never,” Joy said. She glanced up at the building again and then out toward the open ocean. “Hard to believe this is in our backyard. Maybe I would have liked this town more if I’d spent more time out on the water.”

A seal surfaced a few feet ahead of their kayaks and Kelsey pointed to the silky spotted gray head. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Joy laughed when the seal dropped below the water and then popped up on the other side of her kayak. “Friendly.”

“That depends on who you ask. The fishermen hate the seals.” A pelican swooped down to the water and then arched up with a fish. The seal darted in the direction the pelican had dived, its sleek gray body surfing out of view. Kelsey angled toward the bridge. “It took me years to get back to kayaking. And I never thought I’d be out in this bay again. Now I can’t get enough of it. Kayaking doesn’t hurt my shoulder. In fact, I think it’s helping.”

“What happened with your shoulder?”

Kelsey set the oar across her kayak and let Joy catch up to her. She forced a smile. She hated thinking about her shoulder injury and talking about it made it impossible not to remember all the details. But Joy didn’t need the details. “Rotator cuff injury. Long, boring story.”

“I like long boring stories.”

Kelsey stared at Joy for a moment. She rowed in a circle and then pulled up alongside Joy’s kayak. “I was twenty-two and too smart to listen to my coach. It was a lifetime ago…” Kelsey pointed at an otter that popped out of the water in front of their kayaks. The otter disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced, and she continued, “I thought I knew what my body could handle but I overtrained, plain and simple. The injury was really only a bunch of little tears. Unfortunately they added up.” Maybe it was a lifetime ago but she could still recall the pain that had shot through her shoulder—a knife blade that dug in deep and stopped her cold.

Kelsey continued, “I was at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado. I’d dreamed about swimming there for half my life and I’d finally made it. Three months after I’d started training there, the shoulder thing started up. It screamed in the morning but I’d work through it. Then at night it was worse again. My coach had me see a doctor about it when ibuprofen and ice weren’t touching the pain. All that doctor recommended was surgery. I didn’t want to do the surgery because I figured it’d ruin my chance for the Olympic team that year. Or worse yet, that I’d be finished completely. So I tried rehab and higher doses of pain medication. I’d get out of the pool and strap an ice pack to my shoulder and when it was numb, I’d hop back in the water and swim some more. My times were close but never close enough. No matter how hard I pushed, I couldn’t make it in the top three. And my shoulder hurt nonstop. The coach tried to convince me to take time off. He was convinced I’d have a chance the next time around if I only rested my shoulder. Four years is a lifetime to wait when you’re twenty-two. So I kept pushing. Then one day I woke up and couldn’t get my shirt on. It hurt too much to raise my arm. And that was with all the pain medications the doctors had prescribed. I realized surgery was my only choice then.” She picked up her oar. “Somehow I knew the surgery wasn’t going to fix it. It was a last-ditch attempt. But it didn’t work.”

“So, no more swimming.”

Kelsey nodded. She couldn’t meet Joy’s gaze. She scooped the edge of her oar into the water and sent a spray up into the air. The droplets caught the light and sparkled as they fell back to the surface. “But I can still kayak. You up for a little more? There’s a lot to see.”

“I’m up for whatever you want to show me,” Joy said. She rowed around Kelsey’s kayak and then stopped when they were side by side. “I’m sorry. I wish it had all gone differently. I wish you’d had a real chance…I can’t imagine how hard it must have been letting go.”

Kelsey didn’t say anything. She stared out at the water.

Joy continued, “And I wish I’d come out here years ago.” She pointed at the bridge and the waterfront buildings, and then the ocean stretching beyond this. “Everything looks better from this angle.”

It was near noon by the time they’d rinsed off the kayaks and changed out of their wetsuits. There was no sign of John. Kelsey guessed he was still holed up in his tower. The bay was teeming with boats and he kept tabs on every vessel.

“Thank you for inviting me out here. This,” Joy said, nodding at the sparkling water, “was amazing…And I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

“And the day after that,” Kelsey said.

“Completely worth a little pain.”

They headed to the parking lot together. Kelsey wondered where she should suggest they have lunch, but before she could mention it, Joy was thanking her for the morning’s adventure and unlocking her car. Maybe Joy hadn’t considered this a date at all, Kelsey realized. Maybe she wasn’t interested in anything more than a friendly kayaking trip.

Joy held the car door open but didn’t climb inside. “I have to admit, I’m not ready to leave. Once I get in the car, I’ve gotta face a stack of bills I didn’t get through yesterday. The last thing I want to do right now is go back to work.”

“The bills will wait,” Kelsey said. “It’s Sunday. You should come to lunch with me.”

“Think it’s too early for Romeo’s pizza?”

“They used to open at eleven,” Kelsey said. “But I haven’t been there since high school.”

Romeo’s was nearly empty. An older man was waiting in the pick-up line for his order, but aside from him, it was only the two teenage boys running the place.

“Combo pizza?” Joy suggested.

“Perfect.” Kelsey motioned to the red jukebox in the corner. “Remember Coach belting out that Bangles song when we came here after that meet in Santa Rosa?”

“Hard to forget. I still think of him whenever I hear ‘Manic Monday.’” Joy headed to the cash register. “I’ll order. You can pick out the music.”

The red jukebox still played three hits for a quarter. Kelsey glanced over the titles. The jukebox was a time capsule direct from the eighties. She dropped a quarter in the slot and punched in the codes for her three picks.

Joy walked over and eyed the glowing titles. “You missed all the Madonna songs. And no Bangles?”

Kelsey scanned the list. “Um, well…”

Joy grinned. “I’m joking. I like your choices. Coach Treble would be disappointed though.”

“He used to be obsessed with Madonna,” Kelsey said. “Remember Thursday night practices?”

“He’d turn up the speakers and blare ‘Like a Prayer’ and the rest of that album so loud you could hear it under water.”

Joy handed an empty cup to Kelsey and then went to fill hers at the fountain machine. Kelsey followed, trying not to notice what an attractive figure Joy cut in jeans and the tight-fitting T-shirt.

Joy set her drink down at one of the empty tables. “I’m going to wash up in the restroom.”

Kelsey sat down. She followed Joy with her eyes and then took a sip of her soda. The jukebox clicked into action and the opening chords to George Michael’s “Faith” came through the speakers.

At first Kelsey sang softly, but by the second chorus, the two teenage boys—one chopping vegetables and the other flipping a pizza—were grinning and pointing. She waved back at them and kept singing—a little louder for their benefit. Somehow, she didn’t notice that Joy had come out of the restroom and it wasn’t until she was standing next to the table that Kelsey suddenly froze mid-word.

Joy smiled. “It’s a good song. I think I still have this CD buried in a box somewhere.” She sat down opposite Kelsey and took a sip of her Coke. “You don’t have to stop singing.”

“Yeah, because that wasn’t embarrassing enough.” Kelsey was certain she was blushing. But it wasn’t only the song. Joy was staring at her. The intensity in her gaze threw everything else off balance. A lingering smile on her lips only strengthened the effect. This wasn’t a work meeting. Kelsey couldn’t use the self-assured sales persona that she usually put on for lunch meetings. It was a real date. Somehow having lunch made it official. And the last real date she’d been on was over four years ago.

“Who doesn’t love George Michael?” Joy asked. “And you have a good voice. You can pull it off.”

“Thank you. But I think I’m done singing for the day.”

“Faith” ended and Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” beat through the speakers.

“This song,” Joy said, motioning to the jukebox, “is one I’d still sing along with. But only alone in my car.”

“I wish I could say the same. Apparently I need to make a fool of myself in public.” Kelsey grinned. “Sometimes with a really good song I can’t help myself.”

“I love that they still have a jukebox here.” Joy hummed along with the song and then said, “Michael Jackson fan?”

Kelsey nodded. “But I love all the music from the eighties. When everyone else was into New Kids On The Block, I was still hanging up Michael Jackson posters. And Madonna. And Prince, of course.”

“Too bad I didn’t know that back in high school. We could have blasted all of our favorites.”

“Too bad,” Kelsey agreed.

“I wish I’d done a few things differently back then.” Joy nodded at the teenagers in the kitchen. “When I was their age, all I could think of was getting out of this town. I missed so many things… This morning was nice,” she said. “Almost nice enough to convince me that there’s a reason people stay in Raceda. Clearly I should have gone kayaking with you sooner.”

“I think I wanted out almost as much as you did. And I didn’t have to deal with half the crap you put up with. Was it as hard as it seemed?” Kelsey paused. “Being biracial in a town with so many white people?”

“No one from here has ever asked me that.” Joy leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, it was hard. But was it harder in Raceda than somewhere else? I don’t know. My brother would argue that it was. There’s no way he’d ever move back…But sometimes I don’t think it was the town. I knew I didn’t belong here, but I think that’s how I’d have felt in a lot of places.”

She continued, “I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but my dad was strict with us, just like his parents were with him. And he had a lot of rules that didn’t seem fair to a kid. He had this thing about not wanting us to stand out unless it was for something good. Good grades. Good tackle on the football field. Winning first place. I always wondered if it’d be different if we lived in a place where more people looked like us.”

Joy eyed the teen flipping a pizza. He was Asian. The kid at the counter was Latino. She took a sip of her soda. “My dad was convinced that it didn’t matter where we went. People were going to judge my brother and me before they even knew us. Now I think he was probably right.

“Yeah, it was hard growing up here. But this town has changed. In some ways. There’s still a lot of white people who’ve been here forever, but new folks are moving in and I think the general mindset’s different.” She paused. “Or maybe it’s that I’m the one who’s changed, not Raceda. I don’t care as much when people stare. I don’t listen when people whisper. I’m too busy doing my own thing.”

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to come back here. Or for not wanting to stay.”

“I could have sold Moonstone.” Joy shrugged. “I chose to come back.”

“How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“How long do you think
you’ll
stay?”

“Some days I think I’m stuck in Raceda for good,” Kelsey admitted. “I guess I’m not looking for a way out anymore.”

Joy picked up her soda. “I thought I’d last six months, a year at most. But I probably won’t leave until I’ve got Moonstone where I want it to be. Realistically that could take me a couple years.”

“And then?”

“And then…and then.” Joy shook her head. “No set plans.”

Kelsey motioned to the jukebox. “Okay, call me cheesy, but I picked this song for you. Remember that last night we worked together?” Whitney Houston’s voice boomed through the speakers. “I still think of that night whenever this song comes on the radio.”

“‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’?” Joy grinned. She looked straight at Kelsey and then sang the next line of the song. She stopped and laughed out loud. “I remember that night. You were hard to say goodbye to.”

“So were you,” Kelsey admitted. “As soon as the last swimmer left, I told myself I’d ask you out. On a real date. Even after you let go of my hand at Mad River.” Kelsey smiled. “I was going to be brave. Finally. What’d I have to lose, right? We were both leaving in a few days. Then you turned up the radio when this song came on and you didn’t think I was watching you. You sang along. There was this look on your face like you were long gone. I thought, ‘I don’t have a chance.’”

The pizza arrived at their table and the kid delivering it had a grin on his face when he said, “My mom loves this old stuff too. Whitney Houston’s one of her favorites.”

“Well, clearly your mom’s cool,” Kelsey said. She was glad he’d interrupted. Joy was studying her and she’d realized too late that she’d said too much.

“That’s what she thinks,” the kid agreed. “You guys want peppers?”

Joy nodded. The teen swaggered off to retrieve a plastic shake container full of red pepper flakes.

When he returned to the table, he said, “I like Whitney okay, but I’m more of a Beyoncé fan.”

“Me too,” Joy said. “I like her voice just as much and her lyrics are more interesting.”

“What?” Kelsey shook her head. “This is Whitney we’re talking about. Not Janet Jackson. No one compares to Whitney.”

“Plus, Beyoncé is hot,” Joy added.

“Can’t argue with that,” the teenager said. He’d turned nearly the same shade of red as the pepper flakes as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. “Um, anyway, you guys need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good.” Joy smiled.

“Just so you know, the peppers are extra spicy,” he warned.

“Okay, thanks,” Joy said. She waited until he’d made it back to his post behind the register and then said, “’Cause old people like us can’t handle extra spicy.” She grinned. “Sometimes it’s good to remember how we were all once awkward teenagers.”