Blood Moon

Chapter Fourteen

Unlike last time, I actually enjoy the Colonial houses and majestic trees towering over me. Apparently, Randy and Beth reside in the same home as before, because we’re traveling on the same route as the first time I came here. As far as I know, Conard High School still sits a couple of blocks away, which is where I’ll be attending on Monday.

Two long days until I see Ben. Is he like me? Does he remember everything, or was I the only one? If he doesn’t recognize me, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably crawl into a corner and bawl my eyes out, to be honest.

“Here we are,” Mom says. She and Dad haven’t conversed with me much over the last few weeks, not since the incident at the abandoned house. I don’t blame them; what I did was wrong, and I knew it then like I know now. But that was my only chance to end up in Hartford, so I can be with Ben once again. How else would I have explained my sudden interest in my distant aunt and uncle?

I was correct in assuming Randy and Beth live in the same house. Dad coasts down the gravel driveway, and the front door opens as we pull to a stop. I jump out before my parents can protest. To say Randy and Beth are taken aback is an understatement, especially when I yank them into a small group hug.

“Oh, my!” Beth chuckles, even though her eyes are wide and her eyebrows rise taller than a skyscraper. “We’re happy to see you, too, dear.” She returns the hug, lightly patting me.

Randy smirks. “We didn’t think—”

“I’d be happy to see you?” I finish for him. “Yeah, well, you were wrong.” I grin so hard my cheeks hurt.

Randy and Beth glance at each other, and then at my parents. Obviously, they weren’t expecting my excitement. Before, I was too upset about moving to a new town, where I didn’t know a soul, except my relatives. Now I can’t wait to see Jana and Blake . . . and Ben. My Ben. My everything.

“Let’s get you inside,” Beth says. “I have dinner on the stove, and I’m sure you’d love to rest a bit from your little road trip.”

“Actually, I’m not tired at all,” I respond. “So, if it’s okay, I’d like to sit down and chat with you guys.” I smile once again, and she narrows her eyes skeptically.

Beth motions all of us inside, and I step onto the foyer and realize everything is exactly how I remember. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Candra, dear,” says Beth, “your room is the first—”

“On the right, upstairs? Got it, thanks.”

All four adults stand dumbfounded in the entryway. I’m sure, if I could read their minds, they’d be questioning how the hell I know so much and why I’m acting so strangely.

I don’t hesitate to make myself right at home. Besides, this place is my second address. Well, was. I keep forgetting I’m not on the old time anymore.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, I say, “By the way, I know why you guys brought me here.”

They all share dubious looks, then restore their attention to me.

“It’s because you’re going to teach me how to become a werewolf,” I state matter-of-factly, displaying a clued-up grin on my face.

A few seconds of silence ensue before all four of them cackle and shake their heads.

“What an imagination you have, dear,” Beth announces through her laughter. “Amy, Bill, you two never told me she was one for theatrics.” She ushers them toward the kitchen, where a pot filled with goodness bubbles on the stove. “Did she take acting lessons? She’s quite good.”

I have to close my mouth; it’s wide open and cavernous. They’re joking, right? Is the universe toying with me? If it is, I don’t like being punked.

The longer I watch them from my spot upstairs, the more I realize they aren’t joking. And if that means I’m not here to become a werewolf, then what am I here for? I mean, yeah, it was my suggestion to my parents and the judge to ship me off so I could live with Randy and Beth, but I thought that was part of the plan. My fate. Whatever you want to call it.

I drag myself, and my suitcase, into the guestroom. I no more sit down on my bed than I’m hitting the floor running to the bathroom, where I throw up. Car sickness? No, that can’t be right. I would’ve been under the weather on the long trip up from Charleston by now. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold, or the flu. Oh, God, I hope not, especially when I’m about to embark on a quest to revisit everything I miss about Hartford. I can’t do that if I’m not well.

“Candra, dinner’s ready!” Mom calls from downstairs. I’m almost afraid to eat anything. Perhaps that’s the problem—I haven’t eaten in a while. Not since we stopped for gas and I scarfed down crappy, gas-station hot dogs.

“Coming!” I shout, as I leave the room and bound down the stairs.

The dining table is set with tableware and napkins, and Beth has bowls resting on the countertop, ready for use.

“You first, dear,” Beth says to me.

I obediently fix my dinner, grab a couple of slices of bread, and return to the table, where I wait for everyone else to join me.

“You guys were joking earlier, right?” I fearfully inquire, once they’re all seated. “About the werewolf thing, I mean.”

Mom and Dad contain their smiles, like they’re embarrassed I’m asking such a question. Mom’s the first to reply.

“Candra, why on earth would you believe we’re werewolves?” Visibly becoming more irritated, she adds with a sigh, “It’s such a silly inquiry, we had no choice but to think you’re joking.”

“But I’m not joking,” I emphasize.

“All right, Candra, that’s enough,” Dad belittles. “We’ve all had a long day—hell, a long month—and we understand you’re just as tired as we are, but that’s no excuse to continue this skit.” He spoons a huge bite into his mouth and compliments Beth on her cooking.

“It’s not a skit,” I mumble.

Dad’s fists pound the table once, causing the tableware to clink. “Enough!” he shouts. Lowering his voice, he adds, “Stop it. Do you understand? This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not,” I agree. “It’s not hilarious. It’s not a joke. I’m being dead serious. Am I really not here to become a werewolf?”

Randy and Beth refuse to look at me. Instead, they keep their gazes directed at their food, as if I’m not even in the room.

“I’m with your father on this one,” Mom says, raising her voice. “Go to your room.” She extends her arm, pointing toward the stairs.

Lifting my chin, I respond with a bold-faced, “No.”

Dad pulls the napkin from his lap and tosses it onto the table. “That’s it, young lady. You’re grounded. I don’t care if you are in someone else’s house. No TV. No phone. You go to school, eat, sleep, and do your homework. That’s it.”

“That’s all I do anyway,” I retort. Ignoring both my parents, I turn to Beth. “Are there Rendall’s or Thomas’s who live around here? Do you know them?”

Fumbling over the right words, Beth finally says, “I’ve heard the names, but I’m not familiar with them.”

Well, that’s somewhat of a relief. Let’s hope it’s actually the Jana Rendall and Blake Thomas I came to know and befriend.

One more question . . .

“Candra, what’s the meaning of this?” Mom interjects before I open my mouth.

My resolve undeterred, I press forward. “And the Conway’s? Do you know them, too?”

To my surprise, Beth’s face illuminates. “Oh, yes. I know the Conway’s well. They’re good friends with Randy and me. As a matter of fact, they have a son who’s your age.”

My heart soars, and the intense mass in my stomach has lifted, leaving a bundle of pulsating nerves in its wake. “Ben?” I squeak.

Beth chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s concerned, and she has every right to be. “Candra, dear, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know so much about a town that you’ve never visited, with people you’ve never met?”

“Call it a hunch,” I say. “Or maybe I have a third eye. Or maybe I’m just a creepy stalker on Facebook, who searched for kids going to the same high school as me.”

Shaking her head, Beth says, “The Candra I’ve known my entire life is not a stalker.”

“So I’m right, then? They have a son named Ben?” I push for more information, wishing and hoping Beth will supply me with the response I’m searching for.

“Yes, dear, they have a son named Ben. They have another son, too.”

That doesn’t sound like the Conway’s I know. “They should have two more sons—Cameron and Ethan,” I dispute.

For a moment, Beth seems completely flabbergasted. She recovers promptly and replies, “They do have an older son named Cameron, who is off at college. I’m afraid I don’t know Ethan.”

My throat swells up so tightly I can’t swallow. “No Ethan?”

“No, dear,” Beth confirms, appearing uneasy about my mental well-being.

“But that means . . .” Oh, my poor, sweet Ben. If he’s my old Ben, if he remembers me and everything that’s happened over the last year, I honestly don’t know how he’ll handle the news. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a sibling. He thought we’d return to our previous lives—we both did—yet everything’s changed. And if Ethan never existed, who else is left out of the equation? Jana? Blake? Maggie, Sean, and Layla have already been removed.

I guess Georgina was correct when she informed us that our previous existence, and all that we had known, may not be as we remember it.

“I’m not gonna lie, kiddo,” Randy says, “you’re freaking me out.”

Speechless, I scoot my chair away from the table and exit the room without looking at anyone. I’m absolutely terrified about this new revelation. This means my family members really aren’t werewolves anymore, Ethan never took a breath in this world, and Ben’s memories may not be the same as mine. Every kiss, every hug, every soft touch and tender moment shared between us might be lost forever.

Although, there may still be hope . . .

Some of the items and people in this life mimic those of the past. Even now, as I glance around the guestroom, it’s exactly as I remember—the paint, the bed, the chest of drawers. All identical. Randy and Beth, and my parents, appear to be unchanged, as well.

I casually stroll to the window and peer out. Recalling the first time I stood here and saw the golden eyes of a werewolf, how terrified I was . . . now it seems trivial. For the briefest of moments, I silently wish they’ll reappear. Just once, so I can feel like a part of me isn’t losing my mind. The longer I stare at the forest, however, the more I realize they aren’t going to materialize.

To say I miss seeing yellow eyes, which were a major part of my old life, is an understatement, but it’s something I must face head-on. I, Candra Lowell, am no longer a werewolf with magical powers. My family is no longer in a centuries-old feud with the Conway’s. All of my prior accomplishments as a mythological creature, all of my efforts to end the war between my family and Ben’s have vaporized into nothingness. I should be overjoyed at the thought of not having to fight in battles against my arch enemy, but instead, I’m overflowing with profound misery. Part of me is gone for all eternity, and I will never get her back. It’s a heavy feeling. Difficult to comprehend, even. It’s as if someone reached into my chest and snatched my heart, crushing it between their fingers and laughing all the while.

A soft knock comes from the doorway to my new room. I swivel around as Mom and Beth cautiously enter. They seem guarded, like I have land mines planted underneath the floorboards and they’re speculating whether or not they should move one more step.

Observing their wary expressions, I blurt, “I haven’t lost my mind, you know. And if I told you the full story, you wouldn’t believe me. Just know I’m going through some . . . adjustments right now, and I need you guys to be there for me, even if you don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom coos, “I’ll always be here for you.” She crosses the room and enfolds me in her arms, lovingly, so my cheek is smushed against her shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, you let us know.”

See, the thing is: I don’t know if I can tell them. The real story might get me sent off to a mental institution with a diagnosis of “dissociation.” They’ll visit every now and then, they’ll throw pity parties on a daily basis, and I’ll forever be known as the girl who believed she was a werewolf in another lifetime. It’ll be a charade.

I pull away from my mom’s embrace and glimpse at Beth. “Is there a way I could meet the Conway’s before Monday?” Having not thought of a legitimate excuse as to why I want to meet a family I’ve never met, I hastily add, “It’d be nice to meet Ben, since he’s my age. At least I’ll know somebody.” Because nobody else will remember me.

Beth claps her hands together once, with enthusiasm. “Of course, dear. I’ll call Sylvia and ask her and the boys to join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow it is, then. Tomorrow I’ll learn whether Ben remembers me as much as I remember him. Tomorrow I’ll discover if I have to start over from the beginning.

“Awesome, thanks,” I say, with a smile.

Beth leaves us alone, closing the door on her way out. Mom and I plunk down on the edge of the bed. I finger the thick fabric of the quilt as a distraction. Honestly, I don’t know what to say to Mom, or how to say it.

Luckily, she starts the conversation.

“There’s something I want you to have. I was going to wait and give it to you before we left tomorrow afternoon.” Reaching into her front pocket, she pulls out a folded envelope. If this is what I think it is, the contents contain a silver heart locket and a letter. “Go ahead,” Mom says, handing it over. “Open it.”

Obediently, I tear the envelope. Inside, however, there’s only a letter. No necklace. I even run my fingers from side to side, double-checking I didn’t miss anything. Then I realize that’s because it never existed in this world. There are no magical powers, so therefore I don’t need a piece of jewelry to hold them. Though I doubt it to be possible, my heart shrivels even more. I guess I need to get used to the idea that nothing will be as it was.

As I slide the letter out, Mom bites her lip, anticipating my reading of whatever emotions this piece of paper expresses.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait until after you guys leave?” I ask.

She replies, “Only if that’s what you want. I’m not forcing you to read this letter now. I just wanted you to know, in light of the most recent events, that your father and I will always stand by your side, through the good and the bad. Forever.”

I snort. “Sounds like you’re reciting wedding vows.”

Mom chuckles along with me, then dabs her finger at the inner corners of her eyes. I unfold the stationery and begin to read.

Candra,

I know you don’t understand why we did this, and this was the hardest decision we’ve ever made, but just know it’s for the best. Your father and I love you so very much, and only want your future to be bright and prosperous. I think you’ll come to like Randy and Beth, as they are wonderful people.

Please call me as soon as you can.

Love always,

Mom

I really don’t know what to say—other than the fact that the silver heart locket part has been omitted—so I throw my arms around my mom’s neck. She returns the hug and lightly taps my back, like she always does; it’s a Mom thing, I guess. Then I realize how much I’m going to miss her and Dad. This time around, I can’t call them to say our enemy is wreaking havoc on my life. They won’t pack their bags and drive up immediately. No, this time around, they’ll stay put in Charleston, until I graduate next May.

My stomach rocks back and forth, like I’m aboard a ship at sea. Oh, no. It’s that sick feeling I had earlier. Just as I think that, my body automatically heaves forward against my will. Thank God there’s a bathroom in here; otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it to the toilet.

“Candra, are you all right? I’m worried about you,” Mom says. Next thing I know, she’s running a washcloth under cold water and applying it to the back of my neck.

Hugging the toilet, I vomit my dinner. “I don’t know,” I choke out. “I think I’m sick.”

“Oh, dear,” Mom fusses, “I hope you’re not coming down with something. Maybe it’s a stomach bug. You know, I heard there’s one going around back in Charleston.”

“Mom,” I say hoarsely, “there’s always a stomach bug going around. It doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re in, people are constantly ill.”

“Well, that’s true,” she concedes. “I’m going to run downstairs and see if Beth has any medicine, or some chicken broth. As soon as you feel like getting up, you should lie down and get some rest.”

Except, for the remainder of the night and into the early morning, I gag and retch anything that’s in my belly—chicken noodle soup, Sprite, Coke, crackers, and stomach acid. Nothing will stay down long enough for my body to absorb the nutrients. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried; this is a little out of the norm for me. I can’t even recall my last visit to a doctor.

By midday, Mom and Beth frantically check for signs of a fever every five minutes, though they swear I don’t have one. I curl up in my bed and catch up on some much-needed sleep. After all, I’m going to need it if Ben’s coming over tonight. I won’t be able to think straight as long as I’m unwell.

When I wake, it’s late afternoon, and I’m feeling a little better, but not fully recuperated. Maybe it was a stomach bug. Maybe I ate the wrong bowl of beef stew that Beth prepared last night. Above all else, there’s one simple question nagging my conscience. One question that will change everything, if it proves to be correct. Georgina had told us things would be different—some for the best, some for the worst. I don’t know how to classify this, if it’s true. So I take a nice, hot shower, get dressed, and plod downstairs.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” I tell my relatives. “Be back in a bit.”

They seem flustered, and a little bit surprised, but they don’t argue.

I sincerely hope all of the shops are the same as before. There’s a mini market in town, where I need to pick up a few items. On my way, though, I need to see if Livia’s is still standing, if it ever existed at all. And maybe, just maybe, Jana works there. First things first, though.

As I round the corner and walk down Main Street, I notice a few of the boutiques and shops are exactly how I remember them. Sure, there are different window displays, or the signs are a total one-eighty from what they previously were, but the majority of Hartford still exists, and that makes my stomach feel like it’s rising into my throat. My emotions swell, leaving me a bit teary-eyed, because there might be hope after all.

I stop by the mini market two blocks down from Livia’s. I know exactly what to buy, and I cross my fingers they have it. After searching up and down the aisles in the small store, I come across the item I need. Hesitating due to embarrassment, I realize nobody here knows who I am. So, why worry? I pick up the little box, grab some potato chips and candy bars, and pay for my things at the checkout.

Now that that’s over and done with, I stroll down the sidewalk, all the way to Livia’s. I almost squeal when I see the sign is the same. Stepping up to the display window, I peer inside. I’ll be damned. Behind the counter is Jana, though she doesn’t seem like the perky Jana I once knew. This Jana is tired, maybe a little bit sad; I see hurt behind her eyes, and the way she handles customers like they’re a chore rather than a commodity.

Oh, this is going to be just lovely.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, I lift my chin and open the door. The bell overhead chimes, signaling my arrival, and I instantly think of Fiona and her fabric store. I miss her. I wish we could’ve said goodbye, but with the way everything played out, there was no chance in hell she’d speak to Ben or me after seeing us transform into werewolves. Discarding my thoughts, I set out to do what I came here for: make the world seem right again.

“Hi, welcome to Livia’s,” Jana states, with no interest. It’s as if she’s said those words a thousand times today, and she wishes to never speak them again. She sounds like a damn robot. Definitely not the Jana Rendall I know—well, knew.

“Hey, are you guys hiring?” I question.

Without glancing at me, she reaches under the counter and pulls out a stack of applications. “Take your pick,” she says, waving her hand over the lot. “Fill one out and bring it back when you want, but there’s no guarantee you’ll be hired.”

Wooow. Undoubtedly, this is not my old friend. She won’t even look at me. “Actually, I think I’ll fill it out now, since I’m already here.” I remember the first time I set foot in Livia’s. Jana was the one who urged me to fill out an application right then and there. I was the one who didn’t care anything about applying for a job. Funny how, in this life, the roles are reversed.

Jana motions toward a pen holder on the counter. “Have at it.” She steps down from behind the cash register and meanders to the back room, where it’s employees only.

I don’t hesitate to answer each question on the application. By the time I’m finished, she still hasn’t returned to the front. I guess she’s avoiding socializing with customers. Whatever. I shrug off her behavior and decide I’ll deal with all of this later. Right now, I have bigger issues to worry about—like, Ben, for instance. He’ll be eating dinner with us in less than an hour, and although I’m excited to see him, I’m absolutely terrified he won’t remember me at all.