Read Online The Summer of Moonlight Secrets by Danette Haworth - Free Book Online Page B

is sticky and so is my hair.
    â€œYou first in the shower,” Dad says once we’re back in our room. He slips his bag off his shoulder and starts going through it. I tease him about carrying a purse, but it’s really more of a soft briefcase he keeps all his notebooks and stuff in. “Hey, where—” He scans the tabletop. “I left a notebook in the car. Be right back.”
    Right after he leaves, the phone rings.
    It’s Gail, one of the ladies Dad works with. I picture her permed brown hair and painted nails.
    â€œHey, hon. How ya doing?” she asks.
    â€œBroke my arm,” I say.
    â€œOh, no! That kind of puts a damper on your vacation.”
    â€œTell me about it.” Gail’s cool. Too bad she’s got a crush on Dad.
    â€œYour dad there? I’ve got to get some expenses from him.” Ah, using work as the excuse to call.
    â€œHe’s out—”
    She gasps. “He’s out?”
    â€œHe’s getting something from the car. He’ll be right in.”
    â€œOh,” she says. I bet she doesn’t know how relieved her voice sounds.
    We do the small-talk thing until Dad walks in.
    â€œHi, Gail. Let me get my papers,” he says when I hand him the phone. Nothing like whispering sweet nothings into someone’s ear.
    Poor Gail and her curly hair. Dad is still in love with Mom.

22
    Allie Jo

    The gazebo is lit up with white Christmas lights, the little kind. They hang from the gingerbread trim like crystals, making the whole thing look like an old-fashioned jewelry box. A couple of old oaks hang low near the gazebo, the lace of Spanish moss touching the roof. Opening one of the French doors of the Emerald Dining Room, I step onto the veranda and head out to the gazebo.
    After we’d cleared the supper dishes, Mom started washing and Dad got a towel to dry. I swear, two lovebirds.
    â€œCan I go sit on the Emerald veranda?” I asked. Summer nights are especially nice, with the moon shining down on the springs. Sometimes I sit in the gazebo and listen to crickets.
    â€œGo ahead, honey,” Mom said. “Just come back in before too long.”
    The lemony smell of the citronella lamps drifts in the air. I like that smell. I like the way the fire flickers in the lamps, which look like streetlamps from the old days. Dad ordered them a few years ago to keep down the mosquitoes. Good thing, too, because I hate to spend my evening swatting at bugs.
    I turn off the gazebo lights, sit on the bench, and gaze out over the springs. Stars twinkle, and if you could hear them, I bet they’d sound like the crickets, who chirp in the dusk. Frogs join in with their rubber-band melody.
    Leaning back against the post, I stretch my legs out along the bench and let out a deep breath. This is just the kind of summer night I love. I sit back and let the chirping and the twanging fill my ears.
    This morning when I turned on the tape recorder, Isabelle said her favorite ride at Disney World was the Grand Prix Raceway because her mom let her lean over and steer the car. So I know how to drive now, she said. Why didn’t you go on it?
    Karen’s voice came from a little ways off. Television noises played in the background. ’Cause I went on Space Mountain with Dad. Besides, I have my license now, so I can drive real cars.
    Isabelle got very close to the microphone and said, Karen is sixteen. She’s a good driver.
    It must be nice having an older sister.
    I shift on the gazebo bench, rambling over my day, and then I notice it—the melodies have cranked up in volume. It’s like they have loudspeakers. Sitting up, I look around.
    The full moon casts a yellow light on the grounds, moonbeams skipping over ripples in the spring. I get to my feet. The springwater surges, almost lapping over the concrete pad. The springhead bubbles wildly, noisily, louder and louder.
    My heart whirls in my chest. The spring is going to explode!