Chapter 59
Acouple of hours later, Dan, Sarah, and Rebecca, arrived through the gate and Luna bounded across the lawn.
Dan merrily called, “Where’s Beckett?”
“He’s not coming, he couldn’t—” Sarah and Rebecca swept Luna into a hug.
Dan said, “Not coming? Oh no, I came to talk to him about the—”
Sarah nudged his ribs. "Shush, keep it quiet, don't tell the whole neighborhood."
Dan deposited the cheese and cracker tray he brought for the potluck, to the appetizer table. “Yeah, you're right, it's just every day that goes by I feel like he’s going to be more pissed.”
Luna nodded. “It might be weeks before he can come home. And now his phone doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Oh Luna, I’m so sorry!” Sarah hugged her again.
People began to arrive. First, an older couple. Then a group of young women not much older than Luna. Another group of ten wandered in from the other direction. Then more people came — some from the action at the camps, a few from a dinner party weeks ago, many from the Wednesday farmer’s market, and a couple from the gas station.
Chairs were set out in rows in front of a raised platform that acted as the impromptu stage. Luna, Dan, Sarah and Rebecca filled their plates and found seats in the front row. The crickets were singing, the sky was darkening, the little strings of lights were twinkling, and Luna thought it was the most beautiful, festive, wonderful night, except Beckett wasn't there, of course, but almost perfect.
And then a minute later a young woman sat beside Luna.
With a glance, Luna immediately recognized her. She was the girl from the photos on Beckett's dresser. One of them was of Beckett kissing this girl's cheek. The photos were in frames, the portraits full of smiles and hugs — they were gone now, Dilly had hustled them into a drawer out of the way, but Luna could open the drawer easily enough and study them if she wanted to. She didn't want to, but she did look sometimes, anyway.
The young woman from the photo turned to Luna. “I’m Dryden Jones, Beckett’s friend. And you are?”
Luna’s hands instinctively checked to make sure her cardigan was closed. “Luna.”
“Luna? Beckett’s never mentioned a Luna. Are you from around here?”
Luna said, “Um, I’m not, I’m—”
Rebecca nudged Sarah, who leaned forward. “Luna and I met Beckett at sea, when he was on the Outpost.”
Dryden shifted in her seat and searched the crowd. “I haven’t seen him yet . . .”
“He’s not coming,” Luna said. “He didn’t get his leave.”
“And how on earth do you know that? He didn’t mention it to me.” Dryden laughed loudly. “He’ll probably just show up. That would be so Beckett, wouldn’t it?” She flipped her hair, turned to her friends, and spoke loudly enough for Luna to hear. “I heard Beckett’s aunts had gone all in helping the Nomads, but I didn’t realize they were being allowed to set up camps here at the farm.”
Red climbed up Luna’s ears.
Rebecca said under her breath, “It’s okay, Luna, don’t let her bother you.”
Sarah reached across and patted Luna on the hand, but it was all too much, even the pity, too much.
Luna’s plight hit her like a slap across the face. Maybe she was a guest who had over-stayed her welcome. Maybe Beckett hadn’t really meant forever. Maybe he meant, come live with me, and we’ll see how it goes. Wasn’t that exactly what he said?
And he left and — and — he didn’t even call, barely ever.
Was he calling this other girl? Was she his mountain girl, the one that broke his heart, that he had been pining for when Luna interrupted him on the Outpost?
Luna glanced at Dryden’s face. She was pale with light brown cascading hair. Her cheekbones were strong. And Luna had trouble with this one most: she was tall.
Waterfolk didn’t want to be tall, but here on land, tall was best, more attractive, better. Hell, she had chosen Beckett, one of the tallest people she had ever met.
She had chosen Beckett, but had Beckett chosen her?
