The Girl Who Chased the Moon Read Online Free PDF

sidewalk, watching him in awe. She could tell he was trying not to notice, but his enormous shoulders were hunched, as if attempting to make himself smaller.
    She stood and tossed the can of Coke into a nearby recycling container. Vance came to a stop in front of her. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
    “I thought I’d meet you so we could walk home together.”
    The look on his face was almost indecipherable, but if she had to guess, she’d just made him sad . She was horrified.
    “I’m sorry,” she immediately said. “I didn’t mean to—”
    “Was that Win Coffey you were talking to?”
    “Do you know him?”
    Vance stared down the sidewalk. Emily couldn’t see Win anymore, but Vance’s height obviously gave him an advantage. “Yes, I know him,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
    “I’m sorry, Grandpa Vance.”
    “Don’t apologize, child. You did nothing wrong. Here, I brought you an egg sandwich from the restaurant.” He handed the bag to her.
    “Thank you.”
    He nodded and put one impossibly long arm around her, then walked her home in silence.

Chapter 3

    Y ou’ll never guess who I met today,” Win Coffey said as he stood in front of the large sitting room window and watched a whale of gray sky swallow the pink evening light.
    There was a sound of ticking heels on the white marble floor of the foyer, and Win could see the reflection of his mother as she entered the room, followed by Win’s younger sister. His mother sat beside his father on the couch, and his sister crossed the room to the settee.
    Win’s father, Morgan, folded his newspaper and set it aside. He took off his reading glasses and focused on Win, not his wife. It had been a long time since Win’s parents had really looked at each other. They seemed like ghosts to each other now, only ever seen out of the corners of their eyes. “Who did you meet?”
    Right on schedule, the blinds began to automatically lower in the sitting room. Win waited until the window was completely covered, shutting out his view, before turning around. The room smelled of cold oranges and was filled with antique furniture—Federal-style highboys and couches tastefully upholstered in blue and gray florals. It was just so old, so familiar. Nothing ever changed. “Emily Benedict.”
    Her name was instantly recognized. His father’s anger was sudden and tangible. It charged the air with hot currents.
    Win silently returned his father’s stare, not backing down. It was something Morgan himself had taught him. And they had been butting heads enough lately that this was a familiar dance.
    “Win, you know my brother would be alive today if it weren’t for her mother,” Morgan said tightly. “And our secret would still be safe.”
    “No one in town has ever said a word about that night,” Win said calmly.
    “But they know. That puts us at their mercy.” Morgan used his reading glasses to point at Win. “And no one should be more angry than you, the first generation to grow up with everyone knowing, with everyone looking at you differently.”
    Win sighed. It was something his father could never understand. Win wasn’t angry. If anything, he was frustrated. If everyone knew, why did no one talk about it? Why did his family still stay in at night? Why did they cling to traditions that simply didn’t make sense anymore? If people looked at Win differently, it was because of that, not because of the story of some strange affliction the Coffeys had, seen only once, over twenty years ago. Who was to say things couldn’t be different now? No one had even tried.
    “I don’t think Emily knows,” Win said. “I don’t think her mother told her.”
    “Stop,” his father warned. “Whatever you’re thinking. Stop. Emily Benedict is off-limits. End of discussion.”
    A woman in a white dress and apron entered the room, carrying a tray with a silver tea service. Win’s father gave him a look that meant Be quiet now . They rarely talked about it among