The Moon Tells Secrets Read Free

“stuff” was his anchor. It had taken him most of yesterday to pack it.
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œWe’re in church, aren’t we?” He nodded. A truce.
    The notice in the paper said the viewing would be from nine to ten thirty; we had been here since nine, but nothing was happening. A long oak table stood before an altar covered by rows of lit white candles of various heights. I hoped things would start soon because we needed to be on our way. After this was over, we’d grab something to eat, then get a cab and swing over to the apartment and pick up our things. I’d told the landlord I’d be gone for a couple of days. I didn’t give any notice, even though it meant losing my security. I didn’t want to risk him mentioning to anybody that we were gone for good.
    I looked around the church, suddenly uneasy.
    Two others were here besides us. A plumpish woman dressed in white, like a nurse, sat in the front pew. A silk veil as light as gossamer covered her shoulders and her reddish brown cornrowed hair was piled into a loose bun. Her head was bowed as if she were praying. A friend of Aunt Geneva’s, waiting like me for things to start, I decided. A man about my age sat next to her. Even from where I sat, I could see he was attractive, his well-toned body nicely filling out his dark business suit. Occasionally, he’d glance at the woman with protective concern, like a preacher does, and I figured that’s what he must be.
    Davey shifted in his seat, letting me know he was ready to leave. Mack had a brother near Baltimore who’d promised me a job when we got there. Unlike my landlord, I’d given Mack some notice, even though I knew he’d give me a good reference no matter what. I told him not to tell anybody we were moving, and he’d studied my face for answers but promised he wouldn’t. I knew he was a man of his word.
    We’d take a cab to the bus station as soon as we left the apartment. Despite what I’d said, there would be no van; I was too broke for that. I needed to save every cent until we were settled and I could tell the bank where to send the money that was left from Anna’s estate. I glanced at my watch. There was a bus at three; we couldn’t stay much longer.
    Was it a mistake to have come? We should have gotten up this morning, gone straight to the bus station, and waited in a public space. We could have been halfway to Baltimore by now if I’d done that. But when I saw that name in the obits section of The Star-Ledger last night— GENEVA LOVING in big, bold print—I knew I had to come. I needed to hold on to some piece of me that was permanent, that I couldn’t toss out like so many parts of my life. Luckily, she’d kept her maiden name, as my mother had, something all the women in my family did. Our tie to ancient roots, my mother used to say before she died.
    The name grabbed my attention the moment I saw it. Weren’t all that many people named Geneva Loving in the world. Elan used to tease me about that. Raine Loving. Loving Raine. A good name for me, he said, because rain could be soft or hammer hard on a roof but always loving. Nature’s way of making things bloom, and that’s what I had done for him, he said.
    I didn’t remember much about Geneva Loving except she could look at your face and tell what you were thinking, and that had made an impression on me. I’d learned to hide my feelings like most folks in my family did, but I couldn’t hide from her. How old was I when I saw her that last time? All I could remember was her voice, sweet and tender; it made you feel like something good had just reached out and touched you, and the dim memory of that sound was what had gotten me up and brought us here this morning.
    â€œStay here,” I whispered to Davey. “We’ll leave when I come back.” Davey was getting restless, as ready to go as I was. Or had something made