Waiting for the Moon

Maeve and Lara were directly in front of him, sitting on a high, lichen-covered granite ledge. Beside them stood a rickety easel, complete with multicolored canvas and a haphazardly stationed row of paint jars. A big paintbrush, its black tip stained a bright sunrise yellow, lay on the rock beside it, apparently forgotten. The painting was a whimsical rendering of the beach, with scarlet rocks and radiant blue waves and a rainbow of a morning sky above it all.

Maeve sat on the craggy lip of rock, her hands in her lap, her hair loose and flowing about her shoulders. She saw him instantly, and when she did, a small, mysterious smile curved her lips. Her gaze moved away from him, turned pointedly to the tide pools below.

Even before he turned, Ian knew what he would find, whom he would see. He knew it, felt it, and yet he couldn't believe it. Very slowly, he followed Maeve's gaze.

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She was on the beach below, squatted down on a barnacle-covered rock, her face hidden by a thick mass of damp, stringy hair. She was wearing an oversized man's shirt and baggy pants that completely concealed her shape.

"Selena." He whispered her name in awe. She was out of bed, walking, moving.

Almost normal. His mother's words came back to him, stunning him with their seductive power.

Selena pressed a drinking glass over her right eye and tilted forward, plunging her face in the icy water. Her hair splayed out around her, floated on the surface of the water, then slowly sank.

Ian turned to his mother. "Jesus! She's going to drown."

Maeve peered over the ledge. "I don't think so. It's only a few inches of water."

Selena came up, flipping her soggy hair away from her face like some ancient mermaid. For a split second, he saw her profile, then the curtain of her hair descended again. Sparkling droplets flew behind her in a shimmering, sunlight-brightened veil.

She collected an armful of trinkets and shells, then looped a thick, slimy strand of kelp around her neck and turned toward the beach.

She splashed through the ice-cold Atlantic water as if it were the sun-drenched Caribbean Sea. With one hand, she shoved the tangled brown hair from her face.

For the first time in his life, Ian's knees went weak at the sight of a woman. She was exquisitely, unexpectedly beautiful. Long, mahogany-hued hair cascaded over her arms, dripping plump, silvery tears down the white lawn of her shirt. Her face was a pale oval, dominated by the largest, most liquid brown eyes Ian had ever seen. Her full lips looked ready to smile at any second.

She moved like the goddess he'd named her for, in flowing, graceful steps that seemed in rhythm with the

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movement of the tides. Her hips swayed in a gentle, feminine motion that mesmerized him.

When she reached the beach, she hitched up the baggy pants and skipped barefooted across the cold outcropping of stone to the spot where her stockings and half boots lay discarded. Setting down her treasures, she bent to put on her shoes.

Ian's heart was pounding so fast, he was certain she could hear it. He thought suddenly-irrationally-that God had answered his prayers, given him a seductive, beautiful woman steeped in mystery.

But it wasn't possible. She had to be damaged inside, she had to be. No brain could come through such a trauma unscathed. There was no hope that she could be normal. No real hope.

He thought of Elizabeth, sitting in the chair by the window, still beautiful... still broken and childlike and damaged.

Look at her, his mind taunted him with insidious, killing hope. Believe what you see.

But too many years of despair made such belief impossible. He couldn't believe in something without proof that it was real.

Regathering her shells and seaweed, she turned toward Maeve and Lara. She took one step, then stopped.

The rock was empty except for the easel. Maeve and Lara were gone. He saw the panic move across her face, fill her eyes. She bit down on her lower lip in a childlike expression of fear.

"Maeve?" Her full, throaty voice vibrated. "Maeve? Lara?"

He stared at her, a dozen questions circling through his mind. He tried not to care, tried not to have any expectations at all.

He stepped forward. "I'm here, Selena." She spun toward him. The shells and pebbles she'd collected fell to the rocks with a clatter.

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