The Moonglow Sisters Read online

  Madison stabbed a quick glance over at her sister. “So,” she said. “You were in a yoga cult?”

  “Yep.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I didn’t know it was a cult.” Shelley had her wounded foot on her knee again in that flexible, yoga-instructor way of hers, ironing the edges of the bandage completely flat with her fingers. “Please don’t bag on me. I feel stupid enough as it is.”

  “I wasn’t going to bag on you.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “No. I feel like I drove you into his clutches.”

  “Everything isn’t about you, Maddie.”

  “Touché.” Ouch, that smarts a bit. “Still, I can’t help feeling if I hadn’t shunned you, you wouldn’t have ended up in a cult.”

  “It wasn’t like that. Guru Meyer—”

  “Aka Mr. Clean?”

  “Yes.”

  “He thinks he’s all that.” Madison snorted.

  Shelley let out a bone-deep sigh and Madison realized she needed to shut up and listen if she wanted to fix the damage they’d done to each other five years ago.

  “Once upon a time, he was the most important person in my life.” Shelley brushed sand from her bandage.

  “That guy?”

  “He helped me so much.”

  “You were searching for something.”

  “And he had the answer,” Shelley said. “Too bad the answer was a cult.”

  Madison dropped her face into her palms. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. You, the nonconformist, ending up in a place that requires complete conformity. How? Why?”

  “It felt nice belonging to something bigger than myself.”

  “Nicer than our family?” Madison whispered.

  “After what happened? Yeah.” Shelley paused, and Madison felt like utter crap for causing Shelley to feel so abandoned and alone that she’d preferred a cult to her sisters.

  That explained why Shelley was broke.

  “You gave him all your money, didn’t you?”

  Shelley raised her shoulders in a controlled shrug. “I had no use for money. Guru Meyer made sure all my needs were met.”

  “Except for a hair and nail salon.”

  Fingering her brittle, frizzy hair, Shelley burst out laughing. “You make a good point, my sister.”

  Madison took the salted caramel whiskey from her purse and twisted off the lid.

  “There’s no glass containers allowed on the beach,” Shelley said mildly.

  “Are you gonna tell on me?”

  “No open alcohol containers, either.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I just found out my sister’s been in a yoga cult for five years and I did nothing to try to rescue her.” Madison took a hit off the salted caramel whiskey and it slid down smooth. She held the bottle out to Shelley. “You want some of this?”

  Shelley looked at the label, raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like salted caramel.”

  “No, but you do.” She waggled the bottle at her.

  “I really don’t need alcohol anymore,” Shelley said. “I’ve learned how to regulate my emotions without it.”

  “I’m trying here, Shelley. Could you meet me halfway?”

  Shelley grinned and reached for the bottle, took a quick sip, and passed it back to Madison. “Dang, that is good. But stick it in your purse in case Beach Patrol shows up.”

  Madison hooted. “Since when did you ever worry about Beach Patrol?”

  “I’ve changed.”

  Resting her head on her knees and turning her cheek in Shelley’s direction, Madison eyed her sister for a long moment. “So you have. Tell me everything.”

  “After . . . well, you know . . . I applied for a job as a barista at Cobalt Soul. I’d always wanted to go to Costa Rica and it seemed like a great place to lie low until you forgave me for Raoul. They were so good to me there. Guru Meyer said, ‘It’s like we’ve been waiting for you to walk in the door.’”

  “Love bombing.”

  “I know that now. At the time? It just felt good to have people accept me.”

  “They changed your name. Sanpreet, was it?”

  “Everyone had cool nicknames. I didn’t think of it as altering my identity. I was honored. I was part of the pack. I felt loved.”

  Madison reached out to squeeze Shelley’s hand. “I’m so sorry I made you feel unloved.”

  Shelley’s eyes misted. She blinked and looked away from Madison. “He told me I was a natural healer and enrolled me in their yoga teacher training program. I loved yoga. It helped me so much.”

  A pang of regret intertwined with sadness jabbed Madison’s heart. Leaning over, she wrapped her arm around Shelley’s shoulder and held her tight. “I was selfish. I thought only of myself and my hurt. Can you forgive me, Shelley?”

  “You’re not the only one with regrets. The way I handled things with Raoul . . . I was inept. Stupid. I just didn’t want you to marry him and when I tried to tell you how I felt about him, you told me I was jealous.”

  “I was terrible. I should never have said that to you.”

  “No, you were right. I’ve been jealous of you my whole life. You’re prettier, smarter, more accomplished. You’re sharp and on the ball. You’re—”

  “Completely obsessive with an anxiety disorder,” Madison said. “I’ve been in therapy for six months. My life came crashing down around me. My job was the only thing holding me together, so you can bet I held on with both hands.”

  “The sonogram . . .” Shelley whispered. “The baby.”

  It was Madison’s turn to look away. She simply couldn’t bear the pity in Shelley’s eyes. “She was the love of my life and I never even saw her face.”

  “Oh, Maddie.”

  Madison toyed with her crystal necklace, then told Shelley about the baby and naming a star after her. Her voice cracked as she spoke, but she managed not to cry.

  “Can I have some more salted caramel?” Shelley reached out a hand.

  “You betcha.” They both took a swig before putting the alcohol back in Madison’s purse.

  “Who was Claire Estelle’s father?”

  “One of the producers on my show.”

  “You still have to work with him?” Shelley asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Finn left me and the show. I was a wreck. He wasn’t ready to have a baby and I guess I blamed him for that. I wanted her so badly and he was ambivalent.” She dug her foot in the sand. “I hurt him by pushing him away. I know that. Even though he wasn’t wild about the idea of having kids yet, he was heartbroken when we lost her. He tried to comfort me, but I couldn’t be comforted.” She paused, thought of Finn, who deep down was a good man. “He wanted to love me, and I wouldn’t let him.”

  “Can I say something?” Shelley asked. “I don’t mean this in a judgmental way, I promise.”

  “Go ahead. It’s not as if I don’t judge you.” Madison shuddered. “I’ve got so much to work on myself.”

  “We all do. No one is perfect.”

  “What was it you wanted to say?”

  “Once in a while, Madison, you’ve got to let someone else take the reins. You don’t always have to be in control. The world won’t fall apart if you let go a little.”

  “More of Mr. Clean’s wisdom?”

  “No, this one is all Sanpreet.” She giggled, her voice lightened by salted caramel whiskey.

  “So, Sanpreet,” Madison said, dusting the sand from her hands. She wasn’t one for pity parties and this was tuning up to be one. “How did you come to realize you were in a cult?”

  “It was pretty abrupt, really, but when I look back on it, I can see the red flags now. Red flags I ignored and blew right past because I was so desperate for love.”

  “Desperate is not a pretty color.”

  “Nope.”

  “Been there, but where you ran to people, I ran away from them. I put up walls, built barriers. Finn complained that I would never let him in.”
<
br />   “At least you had boundaries. I was an open door.” Shelley made come-on-in motions with her arms. “I accepted anyone and everyone who walked over the threshold.”

  “We’re polar opposites.”

  “Always have been,” Shelley said.

  “But hey, don’t opposites attract?” Madison rested her head on Shelley’s shoulder.

  Shelley stroked her head. It felt so good. “How big a swig did you take of that salted caramel?”

  “Not big enough.”

  “You know,” Shelley said. “I’ve never seen you drunk.”

  “That control thing. Can’t stand the thought of losing it. But we’re talking about you. What were the red flags you ignored?”

  “For one thing, I thought the way he isolated us was a good thing. At Cobalt Soul there were no TVs, no internet, no cell phones, no animal products, no alcohol, no arguing or dissenting allowed, and oh yes, no sex.”

  “No sex? You gotta be kidding.”

  “We were purifying ourselves.”

  “He’s a dude, though. He was having sex with someone.”

  “Not me.”

  “And you haven’t done it in five years?”

  “No. Making up for all the years I overdid it when I was younger, I guess.”

  “I get the feeling that Mr. Clean has an instinct for what people need and he caters to it to control them. You needed to feel safe and loved, so he kept sex off the table for you.”

  “Maybe. There was a shit-ton of magical unicorn thinking going on,” Shelley said.

  “Such as?”

  “Got a headache?” Shelley grew animated as if she were narrating a TV commercial. “Buddha forbid that you take aspirin. Try chewing organic, all-natural feverfew leaves. Give it a few days and voilà, headache gone.”

  “You sound like the old Shelley now.” Madison applauded. “Snarkalicious.”

  Shelley was just getting warmed up. “Or if that doesn’t do the trick, then your sixth chakra must be blocked. Swing a crystal pendulum counterclockwise over your forehead and it’ll fix you right up.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Got anxiety? Flush those benzos and release the issues from your tissues with primal screaming and an ice-cold shower first thing in the morning. It will shock your system and make room for calm.”

  Madison startled. Did Shelley know she had a Xanax prescription? Was that a dig at her?

  But no, Shelley rolled right along without a manipulative bone in her body. Madison had long admired her guilelessness.

  “Got doubts?” Shelley’s voice lowered as she pretended to sound like a man. “That’s just your inner resistance. Your ego wants to hold you back. Numb that pesky thang with a five-day juice fast, and ten hours of kneeling meditation.”

  “Then again . . .” Madison opened her purse. “There’s always salted caramel Crown Royal.”

  They each took a third swig of the whiskey, both getting giggly and loose.

  “Or here . . . Let’s scribble cray-cray hieroglyphics into your palms and make you an open channel for chi to flood your soul.” Shelley demonstrated by taking Madison’s hand and tracing squiggly symbols over her skin.

  “That tickles.” Madison hiccuped. Laughed.

  “See!” Shelley pointed a finger. “There’s your chi!”

  “A miracle. I feel chi-ed all over.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget to tithe eleven percent of your income to Cobalt Soul to ensure more feel-good karma.”

  “Gosh, Shell, you were in a weird place.”

  “Tell me about it. Still, I couldn’t see the weirdness.” Shelley frowned. “No, that’s not true. I saw and embraced it anyway.”

  “Let’s give credit where credit is due.” Madison hiccuped again. “You are more open-minded and less reactionary.” She paused, lowered her voice, and in a loud whisper said, “Maybe I should go to Cobalt Soul.”

  “No! You are fine just the way you are.”

  “So are you.” Madison’s words slurred slightly. She could count on the fingers of one hand the times she’d had more than two drinks in one day. “Am I drunk?”

  “Maybe. Can you say the alphabet backward?”

  “Z, Y . . . Oh, forget it.” Madison waved a hand. “It’s official. I’m drunk.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back, but maybe you should let me hang on to your purse.”

  “Here you go.” Madison plopped her purse in Shelley’s lap, and then spun around on her butt and laid her head on top of her purse and stared up at her sister.

  “Oh, okay, we’re doing that.”

  “Hey, how come you’re not hammered?”

  “After the first sip, I pretended to drink.”

  “No fair!”

  “Someone has to drive us home.”

  “Not you. Your driving foot is wonky.”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  Madison felt mellow and floaty. Above Shelley’s head the clouds danced. “You never did tell me when you snapped to the fact you were in a cult.”

  “It’s not been that long,” Shelley said. “It happened the day Gia called and left a message that Grammy was having surgery for cancer. I was in a treatment room, undergoing one of Guru Meyer’s healing sessions, when I—”

  “What’s that like?”

  “The hieroglyphics stuff I showed. Rattles, drumming, circle breathing. Things that blast you into an altered state of consciousness.”

  “Like salted caramel whiskey.”

  “Like salted caramel whiskey without the hangover.”

  “Sounds nice.” Madison felt like Pyewacket. Lithe and warm and feline.

  “Ahh, but like salted caramel whiskey, altering your consciousness has a dark side,” Shelley said.

  “Yesss. The loss of control.”

  “It’s all a balance,” Shelley said. “Between having boundaries to protect yourself and being open and kindhearted.”

  “We both went off the deep end in opposite directions.”

  “But, look, we’re back together in the middle.”

  “Back to the realizing you were in a cult thing. I’m sorry, I keep butting in. Please go on. Tell me what happened.”

  “During the healing session, the receptionist knocked on the door and Guru Meyer, who was pretty peeved about being interrupted, went out into the hall. I was lying on the treatment table, floating in this warm cocoon of bliss, and I heard them whispering about Grammy. And then he said, ‘She’s not to be told, we can’t risk letting her go home.’ Just like a lightning bolt, it hit me, and I understood that everything he’d been doing was mind control. And yes, maybe I did need to control my mind. But I needed to be the one doing it, not some narcissistic cult leader.”

  “Wow, that must have been mind-blowing.”

  “It was.” Shelley leaned back on her elbows and looked down at Madison, who still had her head in Shelley’s lap. “I kept trying to talk myself out of it, but I couldn’t get past the fact that he was keeping me from Grammy.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “So I packed my meager clothes in my backpack, stole my passport out of the office where he kept all our passports locked up—duh, another red flag, Shelley—and I took off. I didn’t have money for airfare, but I went to the American consulate, told them what had happened. They’d heard about Guru Meyer’s cult. They’d had people come in before in the same shape I was in, but the authorities considered him fairly benign and left him alone. They put me in touch with an expat group who paid for my ticket home.”

  “Shelley, things could have gone wrong in so many ways.” Madison sat up abruptly. “You do impulsive like no one else, but somehow you come out of it smelling like roses.”

  “I’m here, none the worse for wear.”

  “Well, except for your hair and nails,” Madison teased.

  “Yeah.” Shelley grabbed a hunk of her hair and stared at her split ends. “But I haven’t paid you back for the taxi and the phone and I don’t even have money for a hair
cut.”

  “No, no. The haircut is on me. The taxi and the phone, too. We’re taking you for a spa day, right now.”

  “Maddie . . .”

  “I’m serious. We’re going, but something’s missing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Gia.”

  “She’s the only one of us who’s been balanced all along.”

  “She had to be to even us out.” Madison snapped her fingers. “Quick, hand me my purse.”

  “You don’t need any more salted caramel hooch.”

  “I don’t want whiskey, I want my phone. Let’s call Gia. The Moonglow sisters are getting makeovers! My treat.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gia

  ON POINT: The orientation of a quilt when its corners are placed up, down, and to the sides.

  THINGS CHANGED BETWEEN the three sisters after their spa day together. For the first time since coming back home they relaxed around one another. They laughed and teased Shelley about being in a cult and told stories and passed around the bottle of salted caramel whiskey and for a few hours it felt like old times.

  Gia lightened her hair for the summer and Madison rocked a watermelon-themed mani-pedi, but it was Shelley who emerged from the spa looking truly transformed. Gone was the long, frizzy hair and in its place, she sported fashionable, layered, shoulder-length beach waves. The stylist had also streaked chunky golden highlights through her hair. Her fingernails and toenails were trimmed, buffed, and polished, and she had a facial that brought out her natural glow.

  “Wow,” Madison said. “You look so much like Mom it’s freaky.”

  “I do, huh?” Shelley checked herself out in the mirror and fluffed her hair, getting used to it.

  “I don’t remember Mom at all,” Gia said. “I try, but I simply can’t. If it weren’t for the photographs . . .”

  “She was a beautiful woman.” A wistful tone crept into Madison’s voice. “But she really didn’t spend all that much time with us. She was obsessed with skiing.”

  “I wonder what happened between her and Grammy,” Gia said. “We might never find out.”

  “Maybe, after all this, Grammy’ll be more inclined to talk about it,” Madison mused.

  “If she ever speaks again.” Gia shook her head.

  “I wish I could recall more about Mom.” Shelley tossed her hair this way and that in front of the mirror.