Bedful of Moonlight, Raven Held [story books for 5 year olds .TXT] 📗

better already?” He shot me a grin. “You see, we all want to get it out, even though we think we don’t. We just need someone to give a little nudge, and everything will pour out.”
I nodded, smiling, and then not. “I miss him.”
“I can’t pretend to know what it feels like to lose someone like that. But right now, time is what you have. And time is all you can count on to ease the hurt. Besides,” he added, bumping me with his shoulder, “I’m here if you want to trade some truths and secrets.”
“Trade? So this is how we do it now, is it?”
He shrugged. “Sounds fair to me.”
“You’ve really got some issue with sharing information about yourself, don’t you?
He snorted. “You’re one to talk.”
It was, I suppose, true.
He stuck out a hand. “Do you promise to trade fairly?”
“But you already know everything about me.” He raised his brows. “Okay, practically everything.”
“Maybe so, but – whoa!”
I had tripped over an uneven slab of granite and would have fallen flat on my face had Caleb not reached out and grabbed me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, no damage.” I straightened, and he let go of me.
“So in addition to having the worst sense of direction, you’re also klutsy.” He grinned and shook his head. “Amazing.”
“I may’ve had a better sense of direction if you’d been a better tour guide.”
“Sure, blame me.”
We entered the cemetery by the side gate, which was never locked, but was almost entirely hidden by out-of-control vines and weeds so hardly anyone spotted it, anyway.
It was different tonight at the cemetery. Maybe because it was a full moon tonight, or that the silence around us seemed restless, or maybe because Caleb was here with me. Either way, I was not mistaking – wildly, stupidly hoping – any dark figure to reveal himself to be my dead boyfriend this time.
“Won’t he be asleep?” I whispered to Caleb as we navigated our way to the guardhouse with the help of the moonlight and the flashlight Caleb thought to bring.
“Then we’ll just be making sure he does his job by waking him up. You’ll be surprised at the number of grave desecrations and midnight explorations that take place here. Kids.” He shook his head, and then patted my back. “Come on. It’s just up ahead.”
The guardhouse was a spot of light in the distance. When we approached it, however, Hyde was not in it.
“Probably patrolling the place, then,” Caleb said.
We were on our way to Caleb’s grandmother’s grave (actually, we were looking for it more than anything else) when we heard a voice, small and muffled by the smothering coat of night.
It is not who you think it is, it is not who you want it to be. I kept flipping that over and over in my mind, ready to quell any ripple of hope that dared to take shape.
And it wasn’t him, of course. For the second time in a week, a cemetery caretaker appeared where I wanted Blake to. This time, though, he was on the phone.
Hyde motioned for us to stay where we were, as he said, “I’ve found two more people who can help. Caleb and Kristen are coming along.”
Caleb and I exchanged a look.
“Stay focused, Belle. Consider all possibilities. He’s going to be okay. Call me when – yeah, okay.” He snapped his cellphone shut and wasted not a second.
“Oliver’s missing.”


Seventeen


“A man's most open actions have a secret side to them.”
~ Joseph Conrad (English writer, 1857 – 1924)


“He’s only four years old. Where can he possibly run off to? He’d barely have developed a sense of direction.”
I glanced at Caleb, only to see him looking at me too.
“Okay,” Hyde went on, “you two go along the beach, I’ll go comb the marketplace.”
The marketplace, I had learned, was the centralised region where Ristrot’s and most of all the other shops were located.
I tried to think like a four-year-old. Where would a hyperactive, guilt-ridden one go?
“She doesn’t let him go anywhere on his own – obviously, seeing as how he’s only four – so there’s no particular hangout or anything.”
The yellow glare of the Toyota’s headlights was the only thing that helped us find our way through the dark dirt path through the trees to the beach. Soon, Hyde stopped the car since there was no way the car could drive any further without flipping over a tree root.
“Call us if you find him,” he said as Caleb and I got out of the car. We fell back into darkness after he had driven off.
“Okay, you go that way, and I’ll comb this side … Kristen?” He leant down slightly so he was at eye level with me. “What’s the matter?”
The sea was calm tonight, the tide low. Lights winked in the distance. “I just wish I’d been able to talk him out of that crazy idea that it was his fault.”
“Hey.”
I looked at him.
“This is no-one’s fault, not Oliver’s, not yours. If Oliver’s beating himself up over grandpa, I don’t want you doing the same thing just because you couldn’t snap him out of it. Okay?”
When I nodded, he said, “Alright, now let’s go look for him. Be careful.”
He squeezed my arm before heading off towards more trees, the moonlight casting a pale silver glow upon him.
“Oliver? Oliver!”
Already, our efforts felt futile. How on earth were we going to find him?
Being unable to do anything else, that was what I did. I called his name over and over as I walked along the stretch of beach. Initially, there were a few tents and campfires where I was.
“Hey,” one of the campers called out. “Are you lost?”
“No, someone else is.” They were all staring at me, their features only dimly illuminated by the fire they were sitting around.
“You’re welcome to join us.” He gestured to a spot next to him.
“No, thanks. It’s fine,” I said, and blindly headed off.
After a while, however, I was aware of how I was walking further away from the light and warmth, and towards the wall of darkened trees.
There were private holiday shacks scattered about, some rundown and some grand and smelling of expensive wood. I figured there was no harm checking them. If a child got lost, he would look for a house, wouldn’t he?
The first one I came to sat in a large clearing. It had an impenetrable fence and a doorknob too high for a four-year-old to reach, so I moved on to the next, calling out for Oliver all the while.
It wasn’t until I reached the last one until I heard voices. A conversation. I had no idea how deep I had gone, so I might as well ask them if they had seen Oliver and how I could get out of there.
There was no fence this time, and the front door was left open. The shack, unlike the others, was just a one storey-high unpainted one with loose floorboards that creaked. I cringed as a groan dragged itself out, and then stayed still.
I was about to call for Oliver, until I heard footsteps pounding away from where I was standing.
“Dad!” the voice hissed. “Dad, I need your help.”
“Well, nice to see you too, stranger.” The second person spoke at a normal decibel. It felt like déjà vu, and then not. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, and I had the feeling of encountering that person before, but there was no-one I could put my finger on.
A pause, and then, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
That voice was uncannily familiar.
“It means, my dear son, that I’ve hardly seen you at all this past week – well, except for yesterday, that is, at Highmont Lane. You’re not too busy with your new girlfriend to bother about your old dad here now, are you?”
“If you could just shift your attention from yourself for one moment” – it sounded like he was gritting his teeth – “Oliver’s missing.”
Wait. Oliver?
I took another step forward, slowly easing the pressure off the creaky floorboard, and shifted so the entire living room was into view. It was only lit up by a fluorescent table lamp in the middle of the coffee table. On the coffee table were crossword and Sudoku puzzles and a couple of pencils.
A transistor radio was playing softly next to the lamp, and a hand reached out to turn it off.
Caleb.
What was he doing here? And who could it be that he was speaking to? Not Gabriel, obviously. For one thing, it did not sound like him – and what would he be doing here, anyway? And for another, Caleb never called Gabriel dad. And what was that about Highmont Lane again?
“Oliver’s missing,” Caleb said again.
If it weren’t for his father’s response, they probably might have heard my gasp, for he had turned around to look at Caleb. I whipped back against the wall I had been hiding behind, both my hands clamped onto my mouth.
It wasn’t déjà vu, just like I suspected, because I had met him before. Now that I thought about it, the truth was obvious. Caleb had not been worried for me yesterday at Highmont Lane. It was his father he had been worried for. This, this was the reason for his disinclination to dwell on the subject of their acquaintance.
As I inched out to peek at them again, Caleb’s father demanded, “When did you know of that? Where was he the last time you saw him?”
What I did not understand, however, was why he was so concerned about Oliver. If he had chosen to leave them all, why did he care whether Oliver was found? Did he even know who Oliver was?
“Aunt Belle called in the middle of the night. Said she went to check on him on the way to the washroom. And he wasn’t in bed, or anywhere in the house.”
“Jeez.” He got up from his chair, and I saw a bowl of Fruit Loops on the table. “Is it so difficult to keep an eye on a child? She has to be the worst mother I have ever seen.” After shovelling a spoonful of Fruit Loops into his mouth, he said, Come on, let’s go find him, then.”
I could tell Caleb wanted to say something, but hesitated before settling for, “You can’t blame her. Grandpa was hospitalised today. Everyone’s a little frazzled.”
“Still, there’s no reason why you can’t keep your kid in his bed.”
“She’s handling three jobs.” I could hear the frown in his voice even though it didn’t show on his face.
Caleb’s father shrugged. “So is he okay?”
“Who, Oliver? Obviously, he isn’t. He’s missing.”
“I meant your grandfather.”
“Oh. He’s fine, still needs some time in the hospital for observation, but otherwise fine.”
“Mm.”
They started walking towards where I was. It was a wonder how while panicking, I still remembered which floorboards were the creaky ones, and scuttled out before I could be spotted.
As they strode out through the trees, it struck me how similar they looked – the way the walked and their firm, tall physiques could have made them brothers if I didn’t know any better.
Caleb suddenly turned to his father with annoyance in his eyes. “And what the hell was that you played this afternoon?”
“Played what?”
“You know what. That rescuing thing with Kristen.”
I froze.
“Were you out of your mind?”
“Oh, that.” He chuckled, but received a frosty silence in response. “Oh, come on. I was bored out of my skull in this