I never thought I’d join Paloma and Charlotte’s moon ceremony. Yet here I was, Detective Johnson, chanting along as we walked to the spot where Sunny’s camper van once stood.
With delicate gestures, Paloma placed a photo of Sunny on the sand—her puppy eyes beaming into the camera, and her favorite turquoise beaded bracelet resting on top.
As we sprinkled dried sunflower petals over the keepsakes, we vowed we’d do everything in our power to find her.
Above, seagulls skimmed the water’s edge.
Paloma smiled when one rogue gull broke away, landing on a bin and staring at us. “When she left Shallow Woods, a gull perched on her car’s hood as if it didn’t want to let her go.”
“If only they could talk…” Charlotte said. When she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, the gull blinked as shook its wings, as if it had heard us.
Paloma pulled her shawl tighter as the night breeze grew chillier. “Do you know the legend of the Palomino horses?”
I nodded, reluctantly. “A magic horse flew Soleil to safety, I can live with that. Tamar said she just knew she was still alive somewhere.”
“Sunny was our guiding light.” Paloma smiled between me and Charlotte. “Thanks to her, we uncovered the dirt in the community. Now, we can heal.”
The waves lapped at our ankles, holding the same determination as Paloma’s voice. Despite everything, peace settled between us. Everything was out in the open.
The gull left the bin and sliced through the night air, its cry sharp and urgent.
“It’s getting late.” Charlotte pointed as a cloud passed over the moon.
After one last look at Sunny’s patch of sand, we made our way back to the beach path.
We slipped our shoes back on and climbed into the car, Paloma softly singing the last lines of Joni’s song as we pulled away:
“Crying, where are the footprints that danced on these beaches?
And the hands that cast wishes that sank like a stone?
My dreams with the seagulls fly out of reach, out of sight.”
