The Eclipse of Moonbeam Dawson (3 page)

“Night, Mum.” Moonbeam got in his bag and lay there, looking up at the roof of the tent. It definitely was sagging a bit. He hoped the stupid thing didn't collapse.

His mother started snoring. She was out all right. He edged down in his sleeping bag, but it was a chilly night and he couldn't get warm. Better go to the truck and get a sweatshirt.

Moonbeam stood over the truck bed and dug through his backpack. Yanking out his sweatshirt, he put his arms in the sleeves and lifted it to pull it over his head, then stopped for a minute to look up at the sky. The stars were brilliant.
Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.
He remembered singing with the little kids the night they all lay in the field on Heather Mountain learning about the planets, huddled together in a heap, like puppies.

He pulled on his sweatshirt and looked across at their tent. It looked so small sitting there alone in the campground dwarfed by the mammoth trees. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them to get warm, then went back to the tent.

Opening the flap, he saw that his mother was sleeping soundly. He took one last look at the stars. He could see Orion's belt and opposite the handle in the bowl of the Big Dipper the pointer stars were shining clearly, pointing the way to Polaris, the north star. Moonbeam stood outside the tent for a minute, wondering which one of the Gulf Islands he'd be living on the next time he looked up at the stars.

Chapter Two

“Oh, rats.” Abby propped herself up in her sleeping bag as she heard rain against the tent. She listened to its steady drumming for a minute, then sighed and glanced over at the lanky heap in the sleeping bag next to her, now visible as the gray light of dawn seeped under the front flap. Moonbeam slept quietly, facing the wall of the tent with his back toward her. Only the top of his head protruded from the blue nylon cocoon.

“Moonbeam.” She poked his shoulder.

Silence.

“
Moon
beam.” She poked harder.

“Mmrggh.”

“Moonbeam, it's raining.” More poking.

“Gghrmp.” He grunted, batting her arm away like a pesky mosquito.

Abby grabbed her gumboots and banged them together over the top of his head.

“What the…” He opened his eyes, startled to see the black rubber boots hanging over him, inches from his nose. He swatted them away, sat up, and glowered at her.

“Your alarm clock.” She smiled sweetly, dangling the boots.

“Couldn't you sing or something?”

“It's raining.” Abby wiggled out of her sleeping bag and began pulling on her boots.

“So?”

“So, what do you think we should do?”

“Well,” he snarled, “I don't think we can stop the rain, Mum.”

“Don't be sarcastic. What I mean is, should we pack up and leave now, or wait a bit and see if it stops?”

“We could wait here all day for it to stop!”

“I didn't say all day, I said just wait a bit.”

Abby looked away and bit her lower lip. He hated it when she did that, it was usually when he'd hurt her feelings and she'd just clam up. Go silent on him. All quiet, like her body was still there but she'd left. Her silence was a pain. Better to have her bark at him. Moonbeam pulled his legs out of the sleeping bag.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “We'll get going.”

“And we need to decide which of the Gulf Islands we're trying first. We have to know that by the time we get to the ferry.”

“Moonbeam, I've been thinking—”

“I'll get the map.” Moonbeam pulled on his boots and left the tent. He didn't want any more delays. It was time to get on with it. He brought the map of Vancouver Island back to the tent and spread it out on the floor at the foot of their sleeping bags.

“Still really coming down, eh?”

Moonbeam took off his parka and tossed it in the corner of the tent. “Yeah, probably take a bit of work to get a fire going.”

He sat next to her, crossing his long legs. “Okay, we're here. China Creek Park.” He pointed to a tan circle on the map on the east side of Alberni Inlet.

“Moonbeam, I've been thinking. Maybe the Gulf Islands aren't such a great idea.”

“We already decided!”

“Don't yell. I'm just thinking it over.”

“Okay, let's think it over.” Moonbeam thought about the girls in McDonald's. “How 'bout somewhere closer to Port Alberni, where there are more jobs.”

“I'm not living in Port Alberni,” she said defiantly.

Moonbeam threw his head back, rolling his eyes. “I didn't say for us to
live
there. I just said—”

“Okay, okay. All I'm saying is that we should try resort areas first.”

“You said all that before.”

“I'm just thinking about it again. Tourism is the biggest industry on Vancouver Island.”

“Next to logging.”

“Don't remind me. Okay, second biggest. Therefore, our chances are best if we think resorts.”

“That's what we decided.” Moonbeam rolled his eyes, totally exasperated.

“Like I realized yesterday, I'd only consider cooking for loggers as a last resort.” Abby paused and stared at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren't you going to laugh at my little joke. Last resort, get it?”

“Heh-heh.”

“Okay, so don't indulge me.” Abby looked at the map. “See if I'll ever laugh again at any of your dumb jokes. Anyway, I think rather than the Gulf Islands we should try Tofino.”

“Tofino! It takes forever to get to Victoria or Vancouver from there!”

“It was an omen, Moonbeam.”

“Oh, jeez. You mean that guy, Harry.”

“Harvey. His name's Harvey.”

“I don't care what his name is!”

“I think we're supposed to go to Tofino. His friend is the manager of that new resort and they're hiring. How do we know the jobs aren't all taken in the Gulf Islands?”

“We won't know anything until we go there and find out. What if the resort in Tofino doesn't hire us?” Moonbeam glared at her. “What about that?”

“There's other places there. Bed and breakfasts and marinas and a bunch of restaurants. People have to eat.”

“Yeah. Well, I'm hungry.”

Abby stared at the map. “We'll head to back to Port Alberni, then down to Tofino.”

“I'm very hungry.”

“We can camp at Pacific Rim Park and then call Harvey and he can—”

“I'M STARVING!”

“Well you don't have to scream at me.” She folded up the map and dug through her backpack. “Here.” She pulled out a couple of apples and handed one to him. “This should take the edge off until we get to Port Alberni. We can get something at the McDonald's and then head to Tofino.”

*   *   *

When they got to McDonald's, Moonbeam grabbed the
Alberni Valley Times
from the rack next to the cash register. He was glad they were inside where it was warm; they were still damp from taking down the tent and loading it on the truck. They got their food and found a table.

“First a cow, now a pig.” Abby munched on her cinnamon roll, looking at him with disapproval.

Moonbeam peered over the paper. “It's a sausage McMuffin with an egg and it's
my
stomach.”

“But who's paying for it?”

Moonbeam buried his head behind the paper, ignoring her.
When I'm on my own I won't have to put up with this garbage. But what if I could get a job? Really live on my own.
Not have to go where
she
decided for once.

He ran his finger down the Help Wanted column: Auto body repairman, Child welfare social worker position, Hair stylist apprentice, Lose all weight be paid, Part-time janitor, Baby-sitter my home, Manager trainee, Shipper/receiver, Taxi driver, Shake block cutter, Wtd: mature couple to be live-in mngrs for 37 suite apt. complex.
Mature couple.
Wonder what they meant by mature?
Lose all weight be paid.
Pretty weird. Wouldn't a person be dead if they lost all weight? Who'd pay for that? he wondered.

“I hope we can make it.” A hint of worry crept into her voice. She looked out the window and took a sip of her coffee.

Moonbeam put the paper down. “We've got”—he munched on his McMuffin—“plenty of gas.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full.”

He glared at her and wiped his mouth. “Then why start up a conversation as soon as I take a bite?”

“Forget it. The Queen's not here.” She winked at him.

Moonbeam couldn't help laughing. It was an old joke between them, gauging their behavior by whether or not the Queen of England was on the premises or about to make an appearance.
Better wash your hands in case the Queen comes. Change your shirt, Her Majesty might be arriving. You look smashing, the Queen will approve.

Abby's smile began to fade and she turned to look out the window again. “I was thinking about money, when I said I hope we can make it.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.” She sipped the last of her coffee. “We'll have to pay rent. Which of course we didn't have to do all the years we were on Heather Mountain, but the money my mother left me helps a bit. I wish what I make from weaving was steady enough.”

“If wishes were horses.”

“Right, I'd be a rich lady.”

“Don't forget. I'll be getting a job, too.”

She nodded. “I know. I'm counting on both of us.” Abby crumpled up her napkin and grabbed her jacket. “Okay, let's go for it. On to Tofino!”

Unless some other omen comes along and she decides she's supposed to live in Parksville and sell Nanaimo bars at a roadside stand. Moonbeam fumed as they walked to the truck. Not because he was that upset about going to Tofino. Where they ended up wasn't as important as what was there. Girls, and kids his own age. And Tofino was cool. He really liked it when they were there in ninety-three. True, it wasn't as close to Vancouver as the Gulf Islands, but it would have a lot more people his age than Heather Mountain. A lot more girls, for sure. Almost any town would. No. The thing that got to him was the way the whole thing came down. Once she figured that guy from Tofino was an omen, any protest Moonbeam made would have been like spitting in the wind.

“Now I've been happy lately … thinking about the good things to come…” Abby began to sing the minute they got back in the truck. Maybe someone would come and decide his mother was nuts and put him in a foster home. A nice foster home where the people had a few daughters. Maybe one who was eighteen, an older, experienced daughter who was extremely beautiful and would sneak into his room at night.

“… cause out of the edge of darkness … there rides a peace train…”

And he would have his new name at the nice foster home. Tim, or maybe Tom. Tom Dawson. Yes. A definite possibility. And the beautiful daughter was Andrea.

“Oh Tom,” the beautiful daughter Andrea would say, “we are so thrilled you have come to live here. Isn't it wonderful that my room is right next to yours!” Andrea would smile and gaze at him with her sparkly blue eyes, tossing her thick blond hair as she spoke. She would also stand quite near to him and brush up against him.

Then, after they had a fantastic dinner out at a nice restaurant, like Smitty's or a cafeteria-type place where they gave you all you could eat for $8.95, the happy foster family would go home to their cozy cabin in the woods. They would sit around watching TV and eating popcorn. Then, the nice foster parents would go to bed.

“Goodnight, Tom,” the foster mother would say. “Sleep well. Sleep as late as you can in the morning.”

“Yes, Tom,” the nice foster father would say, “just sleep in and get rest. Take it easy. We don't need you to do any work around here. Having your company is what we care about. Now I have someone to watch Hockey Night in Canada with.”

“Yes,” says the nice mother, “we have always wanted a son.”

“The missus is right,” says the father, “a son just like you, Tom.”

Then the foster parents go to bed. Then Andrea whispers goodnight and gives Tom a little kiss.

Tom goes into his bedroom and gets in some nice pajamas they bought him at Sears. The pajama shirt is identical to a Canuck's jersey. The parents in this nice foster home can afford to buy such nice pajamas for their new son, Tom. The son they have always wanted.

Tom climbs into bed. It is not a sleeping bag, but real sheets and a nice soft blanket. Also from Sears. The very best they have. The sheets are very clean and soft and Tom snuggles down under the covers. Tom closes his eyes and begins to drift off to sleep, warm and cozy in his new home.

Tap … tap … tap.

Tom stirs in his sleep, not quite sure if he heard a little tapping sound or if it is part of a dream.

Tap … tap … tap.

Tom opens his eyes.
Tap … tap … tap.
There it is again. He is sure now. Someone is knocking at the door.

“Tom?” Andrea whispers. “Tom, it's me, Andrea.”

Tom stretches slowly like a giant cat, his muscles rippling under the Canuck's pajama top, then, springing like a cougar, he leaps to the door and opens it.

Andrea throws herself into his arms. “Oh, Tom, I have waited for this moment from the minute you came to live with us.”

Silently, Tom closes the door behind them and pulls her into his bedroom. Andrea drops her robe, her blond hair shimmers against her creamy skin, and the moonlight streams through the window, filtering through the trees, and lets Tom get a good look. Wow.

“Shhh, we must not wake my parents,” whispers Andrea.

“Of course not,” Tom whispers as Andrea takes his hand and pulls him toward the bed.

Moonbeam closed his eyes and smiled as Andrea, older, experienced, beautiful Andrea romped with Tom in Tom's room in the nice foster home. Tom did not have to worry about messing up because older, experienced Andrea knew all about everything. They did it almost all the way to Tofino.