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

did it. He did what he promised, and now Anna even called me. Isn’t that wonderful?” She sighed happily, and her shoulders rose and fell. “I mean, I know it’s just a phone call, but it’s a start, right?”
I paid no further attention to their conversation after that. It was good news, I kept telling myself, that he was out. Of course it was. I couldn’t bear the thought of him in that miserable place any longer.
But that would also mean he was leaving. There was just no getting around that.
My help no longer needed now that there were only so few customers left, I headed home on foot, needing some time to wrap my head around that notion, that image of them repacking their bags and leaving through the front door. Maybe they wouldn’t even have unpacked; maybe they were just waiting for the soonest possible moment – upon Caleb’s release – to leave.
I was not ready to go home just yet, which was why I found myself in front of Blake’s gravestone. Caleb would probably not want to see me, anyway, after that fight in the visiting room the other day. And after all those things we had said to each other ever since I came here. He probably couldn’t wait to get away from me.
You just had to get used to that cycle, I suppose, that cycle of having and losing. Wasn’t that what life was about, after all? Everything was fleeting, impermanent. Nothing was forever.
“See, when you have that look on your face, it means you’re probably too deep in that messed up jungle of your thoughts to get out.”
Somewhere in the middle of his rambling, I had jumped and scrambled to my feet.
“Caleb!”
He grinned and stuck out his hand. “Nice to see you too.”
Seeing him – and that familiar look on his face – replaced the cold-water pep talk I had given myself earlier to soften the blow of his imminent departure. I flung myself at him, laughing, but found my face wet.
He stumbled slightly but wrapped his arms tightly around me. “I missed you.”
“You were mad at me,” I reminded him.
“Well, yeah, that too.”
“I heard Gareth … well, he…”
He nodded grimly. “Who would’ve thought, huh?” But he said nothing more.
Now came the hard part. “So what time’s your flight?” I hated the waver in my voice.
He gave me a slow smile. “We’re not leaving.”
I tilted my head warningly at him. If he thought that was a joke, he was telling it to the wrong person.
“We’re not. I swear. When mom came to visit me yesterday, we…” He shrugged. “We had a long chat. A proper one in a long time.”
I waited for him to continue.
“So anyway, she talked to Gabriel, and they worked out a system. The simplest one yet – delegation. I mean, what is the point of operating such a big company with so many competent staff when you’re just going to do everything yourself, go to every meeting all over the world yourself?”
“Good call.”
“They’re easing into it – they’ve never been good at delegating, as far as I know – but for now, we’re moving back in. So we’re the tenants this time. I hope you haven’t knocked down the walls or anything.”
There was no need for a reply. I pulled him to me again and squeezed tight. He kissed my hair, and then kissed me properly on the lips for a long while.
It had gotten dark, that time of the day I had grown so familiar with. The sky was now a deep purplish blue, but there were still some tinges of pink and gold somewhere beyond the trees.
Caleb looked around, as though he had just realised where we were. “What were you doing here, anyway?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“Visiting my grandma, of course. I was just about fifty metres away from here, and I saw you looking like this.” He pulled a face, looking as though he was sucking on a lemon.
I swatted his chest. “I don’t look like that.”
He laughed. “Trust me, you do when you’re thinking hard. So, what were you doing here?”
I glanced at Blake’s grave in response to his question. A brief thought flashed through my head, and I wondered if I should have been kissing Caleb where we were. But, I knew, given the way he was, had always been, that my dream so many nights ago was not real. Blake had never wanted anything more than for me to be happy, corny as that might sound. He had, after all, once made me promise to be happy, even if it might not involve him. And those were his exact words.
“He’d been here all this while?” Caleb said, reading the words on the gravestone.
I nodded. “Who would’ve thought, huh?”
Then I slipped my hand firmly into his and we made our way home in the receding light of day.

*

It was strange. I thought I would be able to sleep tonight. After all, I had never felt so rested and at peace.
But as I lied there, wide awake in the darkness, I realised why I had woken up. A storm, just another June thundershower, was coming, rolling and gathering speed and force. Everything was quiet, holding its bated breath. Outside, the air was heavy and chilly, tight. There was, as with every thunderstorm, the sense of something heading our way. And my body would react to it naturally, which was probably why I had woken up suddenly.
He was already there, as usual.
“You just don’t sleep, do you?”
Turning around, he smiled and said, “Guess not.” He handed me my mug. The man on the moon at its handle gave me a vacant smile.
Caleb nodded at the moon. It was a strange thing tonight. There were large rings around it, like a halo of light protecting a silver orb.
“That’s a lunar corona,” he said. “Happens when the moon’s light is refracted by droplets of water. Happens when a storm’s coming.”
“There does seem to be something in the air tonight.”
We sat in silence for a while, before I realised he was staring at me, a slight smile playing on the corners of his lips.
“What?” I wiped my mouth.
He extended a hand. “Now that all that nasty business is done with, I’d like to officially welcome you to Wroughton.”
“Nasty business?”
He raised his brows. “That’s not the word you’d use?”
I shook my head.
He didn’t see it the way I did. For all those nights we had spent lonely and angry, at ourselves and at each other, nasty was not the word I would choose to describe it. Wearying, yes. Surreal, yes – for me, at least.
Because those were the nights we slept badly, that the demons reared their ugly heads and probing snouts.
Those were the nights that we could only hope to ride out on our trembling anxiety and recycled tears.
Those were the nights that we replayed words, hard looks and tentative touches, over and over, until they weaved a story of their own.
Those were the nights we longed for sleep, but stayed stubbornly awake.
But those were also the nights we sat beside each other with our mugs in our hands, alone but together in the wakeful silence, while our beds collected the moon’s brilliant light.
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Publication Date: 09-28-2009

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