Bedful of Moonlight - Raven Held (best love novels of all time txt) 📗

shouldn’t stress her out any further. Speaking of whom, you should go get her breakfast. Banana oat pancakes. And don’t forget the maple syrup and ketchup. You know how she loves those on her pancakes,” Hyde said to Caleb.
“I’m sure you do,” Caleb said, sliding out of his seat.
“So,” Hyde said once Caleb had been gotten rid of. He leaned forward on his elbows.
I could only stare at him.
“Let me just make this clear. Caleb’s a good kid. He’s obviously trying to – help you, or something.” His brows folded into each other. “I just hope what he’s doing is worth it, you know what I’m saying?”
I had no idea what he was trying to say, much less what to say to that, so I just nodded.
He leaned back, clearly more at ease with me now that he had settled whatever he felt needed settling. “I guess Caleb’s told you about the Old Belle.” Upon my nod, he went on, “We’ve been doing all we can these past few years to revive the bookstore, but Caleb’s grandma was the one who managed it. It’s not to say Belle has poor management skills, of course,” he added hastily.
“Of course not,” I said.
“It’s just that,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “it was a really bad time, you know? I mean, Belle had Oliver, and she was struggling with her temp jobs and now she has to take over the bookstore … She loves the bookstore as much as her parents, and will never complain or anything. But it’s like, how can someone work that hard and not go crazy, you know?” He sighed. “Sometimes, I wish I can help out more.”
I was about to say something in response to that, but he didn’t let me. He seemed to realise what he was doing and said quickly, “So I heard the Burnsteads are back, huh?”
“They are.”
“I guess the party will take place soon.”
“Maybe,” I said. “They seem very busy.”
“I bet they do,” Hyde muttered and downed the last of his coffee.
It was evident he meant to say something more, but Caleb had returned with Belle’s pancakes. Hyde smacked his lips noisily and thumped the table as he got up. “Alright, then. Let’s move.”

*

Hyde drove us all to the Old Belle in his beaten-up Toyota, in which I sat before a glove compartment that hung open like a wide-lipped trashcan, over-spilling with crumpled soda cans, faded receipts, broken flashlights, old watches and other miscellaneous items that Caleb took the liberty to call junk the minute we got in.
“Hey, these junk have sentimental value, okay,” Hyde said as he revved up the moaning engine. “Most of the stuff here has been through more than you, so show some respect.”
“I’ll show respect after you’ve cleaned out this car. I’m sitting in a sea of food wrappers and mouldy fries!”
“Oh, there’s Belle,” Hyde announced. The delight in his voice was hard to miss. No coffee in the world could elicit that.
Belle looked about to snap into two. She was on the phone, her face red and her eyes almost watery. Several tufts of hair had come loose from her ponytail.
I felt sorry to have to open the door, because she did looked so close to tears when she finally got off the phone and the provisional electric bell screamed our arrival.
“Holy –!” Hyde bellowed, ducking. We all did, covering our ears, except for Belle, who was trying to open a drawer behind the counter.
As we all straightened up, Hyde said, “Well, it’s a good thing this is fixed.” He held up the heavy-looking bell. He had given it a good scrub and it was now a shiny-looking bronze thing. Hyde gave it a ring, and it chimed loudly.
Belle looked up from her futile efforts to open the drawer, tear tracks running down her face. “Oh, thank you so much, Hyde!”
“What’s wrong?” Hyde asked, walking over to the counter and placing the bell on it.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Belle said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “I can’t seem to find Oliver – he just ran off the minute we got here – and the door to this drawer is jammed and I can’t get my car keys, and the hospital just called to inform me that Sawyer’s fever is worsening….”
“Sawyer had a fever?” Caleb asked.
“Last night.” Belle’s lower lip quivered slightly. “It got so bad – he was heating up and crying non-stop.”
“Okay, okay,” Hyde said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “First things first, sit down. We got you some breakfast.” Belle made to protest, but Hyde went on, “No arguments, Belle. I want you to eat something first before you do anything else. I’ll help you with that drawer and drive you down to the hospital after you’re done. Caleb and Kristen will be here to look after the shop and find Oliver.”
The effect Hyde had on Belle was astonishing. Before, she was frazzled and all over the place, pulled in every direction. After Hyde had charted their course of actions, Belle sank into the chair and wolfed down her pancakes and the chamomile tea Caleb had thought to get her.
Meanwhile, as Hyde tried to jerk the drawer open, his biceps bulging under his snug-fitting t-shirt, Caleb and I split up to look for Oliver.
Again.
We started with the aisles: Caleb scoured the lower floor, while I went upstairs, feeling a sense of déjà vu along the way.
“Oliver, wherever you are, you have to come out now,” I called out. “Because your mommy’s very upset with you. Will you come out? Please?”
As I heard Belle telling Caleb to tend the store before she left with Hyde, I saw him through the window.
Oliver was stuck in a tree. At least, he seemed to be stuck.
“Caleb!”
He came pounding up the stairs. “What?”
I pointed.
“Let’s go,” he said. And we headed out into the backyard.
At ground level, the tree appeared much taller. I had to give it to Oliver, the only four-year-old I knew who had so much determination as to scale the highest branches.
“Well, I think this takes his hyperactivity to a whole new level,” Caleb said, looking up at Oliver, who was still trying to get a leg up on the next branch. Caleb glanced sideways at me. “No pun intended.”
“How are we going to get him down?” My heart somersaulted as Oliver’s foot slipped and he hung by the branch.
“Can you climb?” His voice was rough with panic.
“Yeah.”
“Alright, here’s what we’ll do, then,” he said, walking to the foot of the tree. I followed suit. “You go up from that side, I’ll go up from here. Be careful not to surprise him.” As he swung his leg up the lowest branch, he called out, “We’re coming to get you, Oliver. Just stay where you are.”
Even I knew that was impossible.
I was not a tree-climber before this, despite what I told Caleb. But I had to this time. Oliver had better be grateful for what we were doing to get him down.
It was right then that I saw a figure flitting behind a bush. The figure was adult-sized, and I caught a glimpse of a muscled back as it slid into its hiding place. There was the slight snap of a twig, and then a rustle of leaves. I stared around, wondering if I had imagined it.
“Are you doing okay?” Caleb called out to me, his voice coming from slightly above. There was a pause in the rustling of leaves from his side.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said quickly. Deciding to forget what I had seen, I laid another tenuous grip on the branch above me.
“Stop at one branch below me after I’ve gotten Oliver, okay? Just in case,” he said, and the rustling resumed.
As I crawled onto the next branch, there was a squeal and I heard Caleb say, “Gotcha!”
Oliver giggled, and there was a flurry of rustling.
“You got him?” I asked, staring up at the dense foliage.
“Yeah, I –”
And then I heard a crack – which was never a good sign.
Before I could find out what had happened, however, something collided into me and I found myself out of control, in motion. I was not the only one screaming.
There was silence when we all, after snapping countless branches and dodging some more along the way, finally crashed into a heap onto the ground. All I can say is, thank goodness for grass and moist soil.
“Oliver,” Caleb panted, his voice muffled.
I lifted my head and tried to regain my bearings. Aching all over, at least I was lying on something firm and warm.
“Yeah?” came a tiny voice next to me as I quickly rolled off Caleb.
“The next time you pull that kind of stunt again, I swear I’m sending you to a doctor.” He ran a hand through his leaf-strewn hair. He turned to me as I rolled off him. “Are you alright? Anything broken?”
I tested every inch of my body. A few aches, but nothing else apart from that. “No, I’m okay,” I said.
He nodded, and then pulled an oh-crap face as a plaintive cry came from Oliver.
“I don’t want to go to a dotter, Caleb,” he sobbed. “I don’t want –”
“Are you hurt?” Caleb asked, pulling Oliver upright and checking him for bruises and broken bones.
“No, but I don’t want to –”
“Okay, okay,” Caleb said. “No doctor, fine. But you promise you’ll behave?” He picked Oliver up and carried him back into the Old Belle.
Oliver nodded, laying his head on Caleb’s shoulder.
“He needs to be properly diagnosed, is what I always say,” a female voice said, her shadow looming from behind us.
We all turned. She had on a crisp light-blue long-sleeved shirt, a dark grey pencil skirt and dangerous-looking black heels. Her steely gaze was locked on the sniffling Oliver on Caleb’s shoulder.
“Mom?” Caleb said. “What are you doing here?”
“A little visit,” she replied crisply, still fixing what could almost be described as a glare on Oliver. “I see he’s still as untameable as ever.”
Oliver whimpered slightly, looking quailed. I almost wanted to throw my arms in front of him just so he wouldn’t have to look at his aunt. No kid should be intimidated at that age.
Mrs Burnstead looked around, surveying the bookstore. “This place is on the brink of falling apart.”
“It’s not so bad,” Caleb said, echoing my intended words, even though he always called it a tragedy too.
“Really,” Mrs Burnstead said. “And how is it sustaining itself? By the stories told by the million and one antique books here? Isabelle should have just let me have it. I might have done a better job.”
“It’s not so bad,” Caleb said again, but it was a half-hearted mutter. Then, realising he was still carrying Oliver, he set him down. Oliver did not dare move an inch; he just stared up at Mrs Burnstead, blinking every so often.
“Perhaps one day she’ll come around,” Mrs Burnstead said. “I came to inform you of the fete. It will take place on Saturday, and you’ll be in charge of the guest-list. Two days should be enough to get that settled. Let me know of every cancellation, if there is any.”
She left after that, nothing else said. So it was all business.
Caleb stared as the grey Volvo curved around a bend and disappeared, as though waiting for it to come back. And then he blinked and that look on his face was gone, replaced by the one he always wore.