Bright Moon Read online

  Bright Moon

  By Andria Canayo

  © 2015

  Table of Contents

  Prelude

  Chapter 1 - Alone

  Chapter 2 - Found

  Chapter 3 - Eyes

  Chapter 4 - Explanation

  Chapter 5 - Mark

  Chapter 6 - Promise

  Chapter 7 - Conscious

  Chapter 8 - Move

  Chapter 9 - Nightmare

  Chapter 10 - Trapped

  Chapter 11 - Hideout

  Chapter 12 - Rodger

  Chapter 13 - Lure

  Chapter 14 – Choice

  Chapter 15 - Jothram

  Chapter 16 - Family

  Chapter 17 - Healing

  Chapter 18 – Pack

  Chapter 19 - Safe

  Prelude

  Breathing remained difficult ever since the terrible news had come. The familiar tightening in her chest intensified each time Clara forced herself to face her father. He’d secluded himself in the living room and stared at the TV screen with empty, endless eyes—as if his soul disappeared a little more each time he replayed the life shattering news story. The screen produced the only light in the living area and flickered, casting an eerie glow over the couch and coffee table.

  “Tragedy has struck our small community as the volunteer searchers have been called off,” the news anchor said, her face staring from the blaringly bright television. The newscast was saved on the TiVo, along with others regarding the story. Tim stared, his body shaking and his face contorting with silent tears. “The vehicle of Luzy Rita was discovered half submerged in the river today. Responding officers stated that the amount of blood found on sight has put a damper on the hopes they once had of finding her alive.” A pause allowed Luzy Rita’s picture to flash above the left shoulder of the anchor. “Her death has been ruled an accident. Mrs. Lucita Rita leaves behind teenage twins and a devoted husband…our thoughts are certainly with them during this difficult time.”

  Timothy Rita leaned forward in the cushioned seat, remote in hand, and programmed the story to play again. Two weeks had passed since the funeral and his eyes were shadowed with dark circles from lack of sleep. His cheeks were hollow from lack of food. He even failed to take note when his son never returned home after graduation, which had taken place two nights before. His hair shone with grease and the floor was littered with newspapers. The screen flashed with vibrant colors and Clara’s chest tightened painfully at the thought of listening again.

  “Dad,” she said as she approached from behind. The couch faced the opposite direction of the kitchen, acting as a sort of barrier to mark the living space where the white tile stopped and the tan carpet began. “Please don’t play it again. You need to eat something. I could make you some soup.”

  “No.” His reply was whispered and gravely. He watched the screen, staring intently as if he could stab through the glass with his glare.

  “You haven’t slept, you could use some rest,” she said, her voice breaking. He didn’t answer. His head fell and he hunched over his knees. “Just eat something…please, dad.”

  “I said no!”

  “Come on,” she persisted, swallowing hard to block the tears that formed. She rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned over the back of the couch to better see his face. He shrugged her hand off and whipped to face her. His eyes were wide and a strange grimace blanketed his face. Inadvertently, she moved a few feet from the sofa. Her father went weak suddenly and fell to one side on the cushions. His body shook as he sobbed. Clara bit her lip and stormed through the hall to jerk the front door open, ripping the car keys from their place on a hook on the wall. The blue sedan waited in the driveway and she did not hesitate to take it.

  Many tears of sorrow had been shed over the past few weeks. Tears of anger streamed down her cheeks as she drove. She pressed the car faster and faster in her blind rage. Somehow, she made it to the cemetery in one piece, unsure of how she’d arrived there at all. She thought she had been driving aimlessly, but her subconscious led her to the one person who always knew how to make things right.

  The rounded headstone was one of many and the place seemed dull and cold, even in the warmth of the bright sun on the calm day. Clara’s chest washed with relief at the sight of her brother standing in front of the slab of granite, his hands buried deep in his jean’s pockets. His head drooped and his short black hair partially obscured his face, but she could tell he’d been crying as well. She could read him as easily as she could interpret her own thoughts. If he heard her approach, he did not show it until she came to stand next to him.

  “Callan?” she whispered and touched his arm. His hand came free of his pocket to grasp hers. “I was worried,” she breathed, giving his hand a squeeze.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Where have you been?” she asked. What she wanted to ask was, how could you leave me at a time like this?

  “Dean’s house, you know I can’t be around dad right now.”

  She looked away to mask the fact that his words might as well have been a punch in the gut. “You are coming home, aren’t you?”

  Silence met her and dread clamped down on her heart. At their feet, deceivingly bright tulips bobbed in a light breeze. They were crammed around the base of the headstone, almost obscuring the words engraved there.

  “Callan, you can’t blame dad, you know he didn’t want this.”

  “Then why did he let her go? She left because of him.”

  “People fight. He didn’t cause the accident.”

  “He could have stopped her, he could have saved her!”

  “We are all that we have now—you, dad and me. We have to hang on to each other…it’s what mom would have wanted.”

  “Mom wanted a lot of things, sis. Right now I can’t be in the same house as the person who drove her from home.”

  Clara’s eyes swam, but she stuck her chin out stubbornly, daring him to challenge her next words. “Fine, if you’re leaving, then I’m going with you.”

  “No,” he said determinedly. “You have already forgiven dad, there’s no reason for it.”

  Yes, she thought. There is. Callan sensed her argument before she could voice it.

  “You can’t come,” he stated plainly, leaving no room for doubt and her argument was silenced. Part of her didn’t want to leave and she hated herself for it. Her chest was tight, just as it had been when the police came with the dreadful news. He watched her with a small sense of guilt, knowing just what she would say. She had always been shy, even with a quirky, happy go lucky type of person for a twin brother. She had endured a lot and he could hardly stand the pain that showed in her somber, emerald green eyes, which were set off by her long, raven black hair.

  Normally, despite her quiet nature, she carried herself straight and as tall as she could on her small frame. Callan somehow had taken all the height and stood a good head above her. In that moment, her shoulders hunkered as hope slipped from her and her heart shaped face fell, turning toward the ground.

  “Where will you go?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Wherever I can, I’ve always wanted to travel. I hear Alaska is great this time of year.”

  “Alaska?” she asked skeptically.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Because I want you here with me. Clara looked away as she struggled to keep the words behind her teeth. Once Callan made up his mind to do something, there was no stopping him.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Callan said in an effort to comfort her. “I will write and email. We’ll video chat. I’ll get a job and a phone…you’ll hardly even know I’m gone.”

  She laughed shortly and shook her head, but she wanted to believe his words. “Will you come by the house to get you
r things?”

  “I have what I need, I snuck in a couple hours ago. You weren’t home so I came here in the hopes of finding you…and to say goodbye to mom.”

  “You’re not going to say goodbye to dad?”

  His jaw tightened and he shook his head. “I should probably get going before it’s too late to start out. Stay here,” he added when she opened her mouth to offer to walk with him. “I can’t bear saying goodbye again.”

  “Only if you promise,” she whispered.

  “Promise what?”

  “Not to forget about me.”

  Callan sighed dramatically. “You know I could never forget you. I promise I’ll call at least once a week, alright?”

  A tiny bit of a smile showed on her lips and his eyes seemed less sad when she nodded. He hugged her and she squeezed him hard, hoping that would be enough to keep him there. He broke the embrace and kissed her forehead before striding away. In her mind, she begged him to turn around. As he vanished, she couldn’t help but remember what their family had been a few short weeks before and she wondered if her broken heart would ever mend.

  Chapter 1 - Alone

  Emptiness. That’s what she felt everyday, every week, every month that went by without the promised phone call. Quiet moments turned her thoughts instantaneously to Callan. Where was he? Was he hurt? Was he hungry or sick? Had he found means to support himself? Had he found a place to live? Had he forgotten about her? The possibilities were endless as was the worry.

  Tim worried as well, even if he tried to appear numb. Often he would check the mail with a hopeful expression, one he thought he kept well hidden from his daughter, but she knew what he hoped. She also knew it never came. The once cheery house was empty and eerily still with only the two of them there. Gone was the smell of her mother’s cooking, gone was Callan’s playful banter, gone was the laughter and sense of security.

  Clara tried not to think of things how they’d been, but the thoughts seemed to creep up on her somehow. She knew her life would never be the same and, even though it would have been great to have a whole family, all she had was the broken one. Her father didn’t make things easier. He had once been a warm and caring person. After Lucita’s funeral, he evolved into a withdrawn and cynical one. He emptied the house of anything that reminded him of his wife. One day, after studying at the library, Clara arrived home to find Callan’s room emptied. Her heart broke a little more.

  Terrified she would become withdrawn like her father, she desperately did things to add meaning to her existence like attending college and getting a job. At school, she studied art. Painting and drawing never seemed appealing until her life drastically changed, then she tried a simple sketch and discovered she could channel her anger, hurt and fear to create something wonderful.

  After high school she got a job with the local animal shelter. It wasn’t a high paying job and wasn’t in her chosen field, but it was comforting to work with the animals and know she made a difference to them if no one else. The only interaction she had that remotely resembled a human relationship was with her coworkers who kept her days from becoming mundane. She shared a special connection with her boss, Mark, who had shown a particular interest in hiring her, going as far as to call her when he discovered her resume online.

  Clara’s morning was particularly draining by the time she drove to work one day. Tim had snapped at her for her dirty clothes piling up in the laundry room, which was not very uncommon, but he stormed around the house with a dark cloud over his head. There was always a dark cloud over his head, but it grew in size, threatening to smother her with its consuming depression. Luckily, the day was clear and sunny in spite of the changing weather, enabling her to crank the window down and temporarily free herself of the worry she carried for her brooding father. The day did not improve when her beater car sputtered to a halt in the stall she’d parked in. She listened while the various clanks slowly stopped, only half aware of anything else.

  “You really ought to let me take a look,” Mark’s voice mildly shocked her from her solitude. He popped the door open, offering to help her out.

  “Thank you, but I’ll get her to a mechanic sooner or later,” she said as she took his hand.

  “Hopefully sooner rather than later,” he said with a kind smile. Clara smiled as well, nervously tugging at a loose strand of black hair that fell over her shoulder. He pushed the door shut again once she stood next to him. He was not the kind of man to make women swoon, but Clara had found herself admiring his nice face and wavy, reddish-brown hair. He had a square jaw line and a short neck that reflected his somewhat stocky build. His deep brown eyes were sometimes sharp, but showed kindness just then. “I worry the old thing will have you stranded someplace.”

  “The furthest I ever go from home is here and I could easily walk the distance if I had to.”

  “Ever think about getting a bike? I have one you could borrow if you like.”

  They began walking to the employee entrance, passing the freshly cut lawn and being careful to dodge the little presents the dogs had left. From inside, the dog’s barks reached their ears, echoing off the interior cement walls. “Thank you, I may take you up on that.”

  Mark nodded and smiled again before growing serious as he scanned their surroundings. “Whose turn is it to clean up the feces?”

  “I believe it’s my turn today,” she answered. “Did you want me to do it first thing?”

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone picked up anything yesterday,” he commented and flipped through his keys to unlock the heavy metal door.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shake of her head. “You know how things get busy.”

  “It matters,” he said and unlocked the door, pulling it open for her. “It’s not a very pleasant assignment to begin with. I’ll check the logs and see whose turn it was yesterday—they should not have left such a mess.”

  Clara felt her cheeks go warm when she nodded. He waved and disappeared into his office, leaving her to get a head start on giving the animals their fresh water and various foods. The number of different kinds of animals there were boggled her when she first started at the shelter. She was feeding the rabbits and other rodents when Dynol strode by with a shovel and scooper in hand. He was a tall, skinny guy and wore his copper colored hair at a shaggy length. He usually attempted to control the straying curls with a hat.

  “Hey, Clare,” he said. He was a friendly person and often at least said hello. “Mark caught me slacking,” he whispered. “I’ve got to clean up the poop before I walk the dogs.”

  “Sorry, Dynol. It’s the worst part of the job, isn’t it?”

  His laid back personality became evident as he shrugged and his eyes smiled from behind his glinting wire frames. “I should have paid better attention to the log, I forgot it was my turn.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I can help you walk the larger breeds,” she offered.

  “Sure, thanks!” he said and left the room through the kennel entrance where the larger dogs resided. A flurry of barks bombarded her ears before the door swung shut again. Even with it closed the sound encompassed her.

  She finished her work with the gerbils and dropped a few crickets in for the snake. The slithering creature had been left by a family who could no longer care for it. Both the crickets and the snake gave her the creeps. She always slipped the lid on and off the glass cage as quickly as possible. After she fed every animal in the building, she went to find a leash. While most of the dogs welcomed the outing, some were either too hostile or too frightened to safely escort out. Few were comfortable enough to let off the lead in the fenced yard to play fetch.

  Remembering her promise to Dynol, she entered the deafening room that housed the kennels with every intention of walking a larger breed. She inspected the cages as she passed and stopped short at one that held a small dog. He was a black, Scottish-Toy Poodle mix. She had not seen him before and had to check the paper above his gate to learn his name. The tag rea
d Duke and she smiled. The dog was little, but his chest puffed proudly. He walked around his cage once when he saw she’d stopped, prancing happily as if he’d been waiting for her. The little dog tugged at her heart. Telling herself she’d get to the big dogs later, she released the latch and slipped the lead over Duke’s head.

  Out in the sun once more, Clara found Maria playing fetch with three of the medium sized breeds. Duke’s ears rose in interest and he showed no signs of aggression, so Clara dared to take him over. He wagged his stumpy tail happily as the larger dogs rushed to greet him. “Good morning, Maria,” she said. They watched the dogs become acquainted. Maria was young, only seventeen, and attended the same high school as Dynol. She had dark hair and golden bronze skin. She always wore bright colors and had an electric, happy energy. “Have you met Duke?”

  “I have, he seems an excellent candidate for adoption, don’t you think?”

  “I hope so. I hate it when they don’t find a home.”

  “He will, he’s very pretty,” Maria pointed out, her dark eyes sparkling. She leaned toward Duke and stroked the silky soft, wavy hair on his ears. Involved with the other dogs, he scarcely noticed. “Why don’t you adopt him?”

  The topic was an ongoing one between them. Every other person employed at the shelter had adopted at least one animal, if not more. She laughed in response and shook her head. “If only I could.”

  “Why don’t you try? Your dad wouldn’t say no if you took Duke home. How could he?”