Beyond the Orange Moon (Mathews Family Book 2) (2 page)

Chapter One

Lucy sat back on a bench and took in the warm Arizona sun. She closed her eyes and listened to the happy sounds that lingered all around her at the park. For only a second, she felt normal. Lately, she had found herself wondering, what is normal, really? Was it the life she once lived? Is normal a life of just doing what you’re supposed to do and never really opening your eyes to look for what you truly want? If that was the case, then most of the normal world must be working on autopilot.
 

How sad.

What was even more depressing, though, was the fact that she had been forced to open her eyes and she still wasn’t sure what she wanted; she only knew what she was running from.
 

She took in the scene before her. Nestled in a valley with mountains in the background, the park was flooded with people. It wasn’t like this all the time, but the air was clear today; it had brought out all the children who needed to run off some of their excess energy.
 

It didn’t bother her one bit, though. She loved the chaos. It was a nice break from the utter gloom and doom that followed her around on a daily basis. The chaos meant life, and she craved it.
 

She returned her focus to her novel, a touching story about a man who was secluded from the world until a woman fell in love with him. It was a romance novel, which, lately, she had found a lot easier to deal with than the real-life kind. Fiction allowed her to forget about her last failed relationship. She could hardly blame him, of course. Who would want to deal with a girlfriend stuck in a state of depression? At least in her novels, the hero never left the heroine behind. If she thought really hard about it, Adam was never really her hero, anyway. Like being a nurse, he was just something she thought she was supposed to want.
 

She shook those thoughts away and buried herself back in her book. It was a good read in comparison to the others she had read over the past year of her life. After reading medical journals for three years, a good novel was definitely rewarding. This particular book was the perfect blend of heart-wrenching and happily-ever-after that had her soaring from one emotion to the next.
 

The tears began to flow as she read a touching scene. Her heart squeezed, causing her to grab at her chest.
 

“Get it, Jack,” a voice called from just in front of her.
 

Lucy’s heart beat faster; it pounded through her chest and made her ears ring. She had heard that voice before. She had heard it in her nightmares, her dreams, and even in the daytime when she had let her thoughts get the best of her.
 

Hesitantly, Lucy looked up at the man in front of her. He ran beside a waddling baby who was chasing a soccer ball, and chuckled when the boy finally fell on the grass and let out a small cry. It was clear that walking was a new development and still needed a lot of work.
 

“Oh, come here,” he said, and scooped the boy up from the ground. He bounced him with a gentle arm and smiled, his eyes shining with pure love. “You’re okay.”
 

The baby’s ball had managed to roll directly in front of Lucy. She bent to pick it up and panic rushed through her so fast that she struggled just to sit back up. The man’s shadow loomed over her, blocking out the sun. She sat still for a moment and then realized she probably looked like she was stuck in that position.
 

“Thank you,” the man murmured from above her.
 

She had never felt as bare as she did in that moment. What would her presence do to him? What horror would it bring up? She slowly stood and felt her cheeks return to their normal color as the blood drained from them. She nearly lost her breath from his intense stare and only then remembered her blotchy face that was soaked with tears.

“Oh,” she said, and swiped at a wet cheek. She handed him the ball and gave him a small smile. “It’s the book,” she said, to which he simply nodded in understanding.
 

She hadn’t forgotten his green eyes, of course. They were the kind of eyes that you just stared at, mesmerized, until someone or something brought you back to earth. But these eyes, as beautiful as they were, had haunted her. And, now, as they had almost a year before, they were locked on her, holding her in place.
 

She couldn’t move, much less breathe.
 

She opened her mouth to say something, but his face was expressionless. He simply nodded again, swung his son around on his shoulder, and walked away.
 

As they left, the boy giggled loudly and Lucy snuck a glance at his happy face just in time to see his carefree smile. He had his father’s eyes and his mother’s beautiful light brown hair curling over his ears. She gave the boy a small wave and a smile that grew even bigger as he laughed and responded with a backward wave.
 

Maybe seeing him was something she needed to do in order to make herself feel better. Whatever the reason, that happy boy sent blooming warmth to her heart. The baby she had cradled against her chest while he lost his mother seemed at peace with the unfair circumstances the universe had thrown at him.
 

It was in that moment that Lucy understood Charlie Mathews’ nod: he had no idea who she was; he didn’t remember her at all. She should have felt relief at that, and she did, but there was something else swirling around inside of her that she just couldn’t put her finger on.
 

The following week, Lucy went back to the park. It wasn’t as if she was going for them, exactly. Going to this park had been her ritual for months. She had always sat on that same bench; it was Charlie Mathews and his son who were the newcomers. There was nothing wrong with her returning and keeping a small hope alive that she would see them again.
 

It was hard to focus on her book this time. She couldn’t seem to stop her head from jerking up each time she saw someone in her peripheral vision. It became a habit: she would get halfway through a sentence and tear her eyes away to see if the blurry shapes were them, then return to her book only to forget what she had been reading. But nothing would ever make her forget his voice and, when she heard the unmistakable sound, this time they really did come into view.
 

Today, Charlie looked tired. His eyes were dark; he looked as if he was running on very little sleep, if any at all. He sat on the bench across from hers and stretched out his long, jean-clad legs as he watched his son play in the grass. The sun shone behind him, enveloping him in a candescent light that illuminated the sadness in his face. Yet, somehow, when he looked at his son, happiness and pride seemed to push away all the reminders of what he had lost.
 

She followed his eyes down to the handsome boy on the ground and sighed as her chest expanded with the mere sight of him. It didn’t matter what he did; with each look at his small face, she felt a piece of herself return. Somewhere inside that beautiful boy was the lovely woman who brought him into the world. Her death wasn’t in vain.
 

She tore her eyes away when she felt the pull of someone’s watchful gaze. The minute she found Charlie’s eyes, she wondered if he was remembering her. His look was intense and evoked a sensation she couldn’t understand. Lucy’s lips curved into a small smile. Charlie stilled for a moment, as if he had been caught, and then gave her a simple nod before standing up to retrieve his son and leave.
 

The following week, she saw them the minute they arrived. The sweet boy had become a pro at walking in the last two weeks. He even seemed to have mastered his half-waddle-half-run. She smiled as he ran away from Charlie with a look of pride on his face; he thought he was so fast. It touched her heart to see Charlie, this big, masculine man, pretend that he couldn’t run as fast as the boy. When he finally caught him, he plopped him up high on his shoulder.
 

He placed the boy in the same spot on the grass as the week before, and then took a seat on the same bench across from hers. As before, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his gaze fell on his son.
 

Today, the boy growled and made noises that made Lucy giggle quietly. He was growing and changing so much that she found it almost impossible that he had once been that tiny bundle she’d held so close to her heart. Her laughter filled the air as it grew louder with each sound the boy made. She just couldn’t help it. She wiped away a tear and looked up to lock eyes with Charlie, who, this time, tilted his head and seemed to smile back at her. It was small, but it was there.
 

As she sat there, transfixed by Charlie and his unreadable look, she was startled by a small tap on her leg. She looked down and met tiny eyes and a toothy, drool-filled grin. The boy handed her a small car and growled, a gesture she assumed meant he wanted her to play.
 

Without a single thought, she slid from the bench and sat down on the ground to join him. She drove the little car through the dirt and grass before bumping it into the car in his hand. He squealed his approval and bumped her car back.
 

“Beep, beep,” she said, and tried to blink away the tears threatening her eyes.
 

He made a small rumbling sound, and said, “Bee, bee.”

This was her medicine; it was what she had needed all along.
 

“I’m sorry if he’s bothering you,” Charlie said from above them. “C’mon, Jack. Grandma’s waiting for us.”

Before Lucy could even think, much less speak, Charlie picked the boy up. As the two walked off together, hand in hand, Charlie turned to glance at Lucy and gave that now-familiar nod.
 

She went back to that park every Saturday for two months. Some days they wouldn’t be there, and those days were painful for her, but most days they were. Each time, she received a small, unreadable smile from Charlie and a nod that seemed to say more than he intended. It didn’t matter what it meant; what mattered was that each time she watched that precious boy smile and laugh, her life away from the park got easier.
 

* * *

Charlie Mathews set his sleeping son in his crib and covered him with the blanket his wife had made while she was pregnant. Meredith didn’t even know how to sew; it was just something she’d referred to as her “nesting phase.” He smiled at the thought. She had been so ready to be a mother. She’d even taken a sewing class and came home one day with a blue blanket that she had presented with pride.
 

“Charlie Bear,” she’d said with a huge smile, “do you think he’ll be warm enough with this?”

Charlie had nodded and pulled her into his lap. “It’s perfect,” he’d whispered, and kissed her cheek.
 

“I think he’s going to look like you,” she had said as he wrapped them up in the new blanket. She’d placed her hand over her belly and sighed. “At least that’s what I hope.”

“Why do you hope that?” he’d asked, and covered her hands with his.
 

Meredith had looked up at him with her deep brown eyes. “Because I’d be a lucky girl if I had two of you.”

If he’d known that only a month later he, their son, and that blanket would be leaving the hospital without her, he would have told her that he was the fortunate one; he would have told her how much he loved her and needed her.
 

He would have told her how utterly lost he would be without her.
 

Fate was a cruel thing, he’d soon discovered. Like his late father, Meredith wasn’t perfect, but she did most things in her life the right way. She was loving, giving, healthy, and always looking to improve and move forward. With their lives cut short, Meredith and Carl Mathews gave new meaning to the phrase, “sometimes bad things happen to good people.”

He walked out of his son’s room and into his own. The walls were powder blue, the beige carpeting looked like sand, the furniture was white, and a white down comforter lay across the king-sized bed. Meredith had wanted a beach house theme when they were decorating. He gave it to her without much thought; he always just went with the flow. Thinking back now, he wondered if she had taken that to mean he didn’t care.

If second chances existed, he would do everything over. He would do it the right way, the way that would have reminded her how much he cared. It constantly plagued him: did she slip away from him knowing how much he loved her? He would give his life to take back every time he’d rolled his eyes at her strange questions and incessant need to say everything that was on her mind. If he could go back and do it over, every time she’d put on a new dress and spun around just hoping he would tell her how beautiful she looked, he would fall to his knees and tell her from the floor.
 

Life would never give him those chances, though, and it looked like the guilt in his heart was there to stay.
 

He pulled open the white armoire’s mirrored door, revealing her jewelry box and perfumes. To the left of a little angel trinket was a picture of them on their wedding day, only two years before. He picked it up and read the words engraved on the bottom of the frame. It was a line from her favorite E.E. Cummings poem. He hadn’t understood it before. But, as she’d read it at their wedding, the words rolling from her beautiful mouth, it had hit him and a tear had fallen from his eye with his brothers and everyone they knew watching. In that moment, he knew that she wanted him and anyone listening to know that her love for him was infinite; it meant more than the moon and would reach further than the sun’s endless rays.