Kissed by an Angel

by Элизабет Чандлер

  Ivy, Gregory, and Andrew arrived home late, and Maggie looked miffed. Philip, of course, didn't care. He, Tristan, and his new school pal, Sammy, were playing a video game, one of the many gifts Andrew had bought for his birthday.

  Tristan grinned up at the drenched Ivy. "I'm glad I taught you to swim," he said, then got up to kiss her.

  She was dripping all over the hardwood floor. "I'll soak you," she warned.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'll dry," he whispered. "Besides, it's fun to gross out Philip."

  "Ew," said Philip, as if on cue.

  "Mush," agreed Sammy.

  Ivy and Tristan held on to each other and laughed. Then Ivy ran upstairs to change her clothes and wring out her hair. She put on lipstick, no other makeup-her eyes were already bright and her cheeks full of color. She scrounged around in her jewelry box for a pair of earrings, then hurried downstairs just in time to see Philip finish opening his presents.

  "She's wearing her peacock ears tonight," Philip told Tristan as Ivy sat down to dinner across from the two of them.

  "Darn," said Tristan, "I forgot to put in my carrot sticks."

  "And your shrimp tails." Philip snickered.

  Ivy wondered who was happier at that moment, Philip or her. She knew that life did not seem so good to Gregory. It had been a rough week for him; he had confided in her that he was still very worried about his mother, though he wouldn't tell her why. Lately his father and he had had little to say to each other. Maggie struggled to converse with him but usually gave up.

  Ivy turned to him now. "The tickets to the Yankee game were a terrific idea. Philip was thrilled with the present."

  "He had a funny way of showing it."

  It was true. Philip had thanked him very politely, then leaped up with excitement when he saw the old Sports Illustrated spread on Don Mattingly that Tristan had dug up.

  During dinner Ivy made an effort to keep Gregory in the conversation. Tristan tried to talk to him about sports and cars but received mostly one-word replies. Andrew looked irritated, though Tristan didn't seem to take offense.

  Andrew's cook, Henry-who'd been let go after the wedding, but reinstated after six weeks of Maggie's cooking-had made them a delicious dinner. Maggie, however, had insisted on baking her son's birthday cake. Henry carried in the heavy, lopsided thing, his eyes averted.

  Philip's face lit up. "It's Mistake Cake!"

  The rich and lumpy chocolate frosting supported nine candles at various angles. Lights were quickly extinguished and everyone sang to Philip. With the last measure, the doorbell chimed.

  Andrew frowned and rose to answer it.

  From her seat, Ivy could see into the hall. Two police officers, a man and a woman, talked with Andrew. Gregory leaned into Ivy to see what was going on.

  "What do you think it's about?" Ivy whispered.

  "Something at the college," he guessed.

  Tristan looked across the table questioningly and Ivy shrugged her shoulders. Her mother, unaware that there might be something wrong, kept cutting the cake.

  Then Andrew stepped back into the room.

  "Maggie." She must have read something in his eyes. She dropped the knife immediately and went to Andrew's side. He took her hand.

  "Gregory and Ivy, would you join us in the library, please? Tristan, could you stay with the boys?" he asked.

  The officers were still waiting in the hall. Andrew led the way to the library. If there were a problem at the college, we wouldn't be gathering like this, thought Ivy.

  When everyone was seated, Andrew said, "There's no easy way to begin. Gregory, your mother has died."

  "Oh, no," Maggie said softly.

  Ivy turned quickly to Gregory. He sat stiffly, his eyes on his father, and said nothing.

  "The police received an anonymous call about five-thirty P.M. that someone at her address needed help. When they arrived, they found her dead, a gunshot wound to her head."

  Gregory didn't blink. Ivy reached out for his hand. It was cold as ice.

  "The police have asked- They need- As a matter of normal procedure-" Andrew's voice wavered. He turned to face the police officers. "Perhaps one of you can take over from here?"

  "As a matter of procedure," the woman officer said, "we need to ask a few questions. We are still searching the house for any information that might be relevant to the case, though it seems fairly conclusive that her death was a suicide."

  "Oh, God!" said Maggie.

  "What evidence do you have for that?" Gregory asked. "While it's true my mother was depressed, she has been since the beginning of April-" "Oh, God!" Maggie said again. Andrew reached out for her, but she moved away from him.

  Ivy knew what her mother was thinking. She remembered the scene a week earlier, when a picture of Caroline and Andrew had somehow turned up in the hall desk. Andrew had told Maggie to throw it in the trash. Maggie could not. She didn't want to think that she was the one who had "thrown Caroline out" of her home-years earlier, or now. Ivy guessed that her mother felt responsible for Caroline's un-happiness, and now her death.

  "I'd still like to know," Gregory continued, "what makes you think that she killed herself. That doesn't seem like her. It doesn't seem like her at all. She was too strong a woman."

  Ivy could hardly believe how clearly and steadily Gregory could speak.

  "First, there is circumstantial evidence," said the policeman. "No actual note, but photographs that were torn and scattered around the body." He glanced toward Maggie.

  "Photographs of…?" Gregory asked.

  Andrew sucked in his breath.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Baines," said the officer. "Newspaper photos from their wedding."

  Andrew watched helplessly as Maggie bent over in her chair, her head down, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  Ivy let go of Gregory's hand, wanting to comfort her mother, but he pulled her back.

  "The gun was still twisted around her thumb. There were powder burns on her fingers, the burns one gets from firing such a weapon. Of course, we'll be checking the gun for prints and the bullet for a match, and we'll let you know if we find something unexpected. But her doors were locked-no sign of forced entry-her air-conditioning on and windows secure, so…"

  Gregory took a deep breath. "So I guess she wasn't as tough as I thought. What-what time do you think this happened?"

  "Between five and five-thirty P.M., not that long before we got there."

  An eerie feeling washed over Ivy. She had been driving through the neighborhood then. She had been watching the angry sky and the trees lashing themselves. Had she driven by Caroline's house? Had Caroline killed herself in the fury of the storm?

  Andrew asked if he could talk later with the police and guided Maggie out of the room. Gregory stayed behind to answer questions about his mother and any relationships or problems he knew about. Ivy wanted to leave; she didn't want to hear the details of Caroline's life and longed to be with Tristan, longed for his steadying arms around her.

  But Gregory again held her back. His hand was cold and unresponsive to hers and his face still expressionless. His voice was so calm she found it spooky. But something inside him was struggling, some small part of him admitted the horror of what had just happened, and asked for her. So she stayed with him, long after Tristan had gone and everyone else was in bed.

  Chapter 10

  "But you told me Gary wanted to go out Friday night," Ivy said.

  "He did," Tristan replied, lying back next to her in the grass. "But his date changed her mind. I think she got a better offer."

  Ivy shook her head. "Why does Gary always chase the golden girls?"

  "Why does Suzanne chase Gregory?" he countered.

  Ivy smiled. "Same reason Ella chases butterflies, I guess." She watched the cat's leaping ballet.

  Ella was very much at home in Reverend Carruthers's garden. In the midst of snapdragons, lilies, roses, and herbs, Tristan's father had planted a little patch of catnip.


  "Is Saturday night a problem?" Tristan asked.

  "If you're working, we could make it a late movie."

  Ivy sat up. Tristan came first with her, always. But with their plans set for Friday night and Sunday too-well, she might as well blurt it out, she thought. "Gregory has invited Suzanne, Beth, and me out with some of his friends that night."

  Tristan didn't hide his surprise or his displeasure.

  "Suzanne was so eager," Ivy said quickly. "And Beth was really excited, too-she doesn't go out very much."

  "And you?" Tristan asked, propping himself up on one elbow, twisting a long piece of grass.

  "I think I should go-for Gregory's sake."

  "You've been doing a lot for Gregory's sake in the last few weeks."

  "Tristan, his mother killed herself!" Ivy exploded.

  "I know that."

  "I live in the same house with him," she went on. "I share the same kitchen and hallways and family room. I see his moods, his ups and downs. Lots of downs," she added softly, thinking about how some days Gregory did nothing but sit and read the newspaper, thumbing through it as if in search of something, but never finding it.

  "I think he's very angry," she went on. "He tries to hide it, but I think he's furious at his mother for killing herself. The other night, one-thirty in the morning, he was out on the tennis court, banging balls against the wall."

  That night, Ivy had gone out to talk to him. When she had called to him, he turned, and she had seen the depth of his anger and his pain.

  "Believe me, Tristan, I help him when I can, and I'll keep on helping him, but if you think I have any special feelings for him, if you think he and I- That's ridiculous! If you think- I can't believe you'd-" "Whoa, whoa." He wrestled her down in the grass with him.

  "I'm not worried about anything like that."

  "Then what's bugging you?"

  "Two things, I guess," he replied. "One, I think you may be doing a lot out of guilt."

  "Guilt!" She pushed him back and sat up again.

  "I think you've picked up your mother's attitude, that she and her family are responsible for Caroline's unhappiness."

  "We're not."

  "I know that. I just want to make sure you do-and that you're not trying to make it up to someone who is milking it for all it's worth."

  "You don't know what you're talking about," Ivy said, pulling up tufts of grass. "You really don't know what he's going through. You haven't been around Gregory. You-" "I've been around him since first grade."

  "People can change from first grade."

  "I've known Eric for that long, too," Tristan continued. "They've done some pretty wild, even dangerous things together. And that's the other thing that worries me."

  "But Gregory wouldn't try stuff with my friends and me around," Ivy insisted. "He respects me, Tristan. This is just his way of reaching out, after the last three weeks."

  Tristan didn't look convinced.

  "Please don't let this come between us," she said.

  He reached up for her face. "I wouldn't let anything come between us. Not mountains, rivers, continents, war, floods-" "Or dire death itself," she said. "So you did read Beth's latest story."

  "Gary ate it up."

  "Gary? You're kidding!"

  "He kept the copy you gave me," Tristan said, "but I swore to him that I'd tell you I lost it."

  Ivy laughed and lay down close to Tristan, resting her head on his shoulder. "You understand, then, why I said yes to Gregory."

  "No, but it's your choice," he said. "And that's that. So what are you doing next Saturday night?"

  "What are you doing?" Ivy asked back.

  "Dining at the Durney Inn."

  "The inn! Well, we must be earning big bucks giving swimming lessons this summer."

  "We're earning enough," he said. "You don't happen to know of a beautiful girl who likes to be treated to candlelight and French food, do you?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  "Is she free that night?"

  "Maybe. Does she get an appetizer?"

  "Three, if she likes."

  "How about dessert?"

  "Raspberry souffle. And kisses."

  "Kisses…"

  "Well, that was fun," Ivy remarked dryly.

  "I was bored anyway," Eric said.

  "I wasn't," Beth told them. She was the last one to leave the party at the campus sorority house that Saturday night. Borrowing paper from one of the sorority sisters, she had interviewed just about everyone there. When the other high-schoolers had been thrown out, she was invited to stay. Sigma Pi Nu was flattered that she would put them in a story.

  "Eric, you're going to have to learn to keep your cool," Gregory said, clearly irritated. He had been in the corner with some redhead (which had prompted Suzanne to go body to body with a bearded guy) when Eric decided to pick a fight with a giant wearing a varsity football shirt. Not smart.

  Now Eric stood on the steps of a pillared building, staring up at a statue and cocking his head left and right, as if he were conversing with it.

  Suzanne lay on her back on a stone bench in the college quad, laughing softly to herself, her bare knees up, her skirt fluttering back provocatively. Gregory eyed her.

  Ivy turned away. She and Will were the only ones who hadn't been drinking. Will had seemed at home at the campus party scene, but restless. Perhaps the rumors at school were true: he had seen it all and nothing much impressed him.

  Like Ivy, Will had been a newcomer in January. His father was a television producer in New York, however, which scored big points with the kids at school. Upon arrival, he had been immediately taken up by the fast crowd, but his silent manner kept everyone from getting a real fix on him. It was easy to imagine a lot of things about Will, and most people that Ivy knew imagined he was very cool.

  "Where'sss your old man?" Eric suddenly shouted. He was still peering up at the statue on the steps. "G.B., where's your old man?"

  "That's my old man's old man," Gregory replied.

  Ivy realized then that it was a statue of Gregory's grandfather. Of course. They were in front of Baines Hall.

  "Why isssn't your old man up there?"

  Gregory sat down on a bench across from Suzanne. "I guess because he's not dead yet." He took a deep swig from a beer bottle.

  "Then why isssn't your old lady up there? Huh?"

  Gregory didn't reply. He took another long drink.

  Eric frowned up at the statue. "I miss her. I misssss old Caroline. You know I do."

  "I know," Gregory said quietly.

  "Ssso, let's put her up there." He winked at Gregory.

  Gregory didn't say anything, and Ivy went to stand behind him. She rested one hand lightly on Gregory's shoulder.

  "I got Caroline right here in my pocket," Eric said.

  All of them watched as he patted and searched his shirt and pants. Finally he pulled out a bra. He held it up to his cheek. "Still warm."

  Ivy laid her other hand on Gregory's shoulder. She could feel the tension in him.

  Eric wrapped the bra around his arm and struggled to climb up on the statue.

  "You're going to kill yourself," Gregory told him.

  "Like your mother," said Eric.

  Gregory made no response except to take another drink. Ivy turned his head away from Eric.

  Gregory let his face rest against her then, and she felt him relax a little. Both Suzanne and Will watched the two of them, Suzanne with flashing eyes.

  But Ivy stayed where she was while Eric put the bra on Judge Baines. Then she confiscated a few unopened beers and walked over to Suzanne. "Gregory could use some hand-holding," she said to her friend.

  "Even after you and the redhead."

  Ivy ignored the comment. Suzanne also had had too much to drink.

  Eric gave a sudden yelp, and they turned quickly to see him sliding off the statue. He landed in the gravel and rolled up like a snail. Will hurried over to him. Gregory laughed.

  "Nothing bro
ken but my brain," Eric muttered as Will pulled him to his feet.

  "I think we should get back to the car," Will said coolly.

  "But the party's just begun," Gregory protested, rising to his feet. The alcohol was obviously kicking in. "I haven't felt this good since who knows when."

  "I know when," said Eric.

  "The party will be over soon enough if the campus police catch us," Will pointed out.

  "My father's the prez," said Gregory. "He'll get us off the hook."

  "Or hang us from a higher one," said Eric.

  Ivy looked at her watch: 11:45. She wondered where Tristan was and what he was doing. She wondered if he missed her. She could have been sitting next to him at that moment, enjoying the soft June night.

  "Come on, Beth," she said, sorry she had gotten her friends into this situation. "Suzanne," she commanded.

  "Yes, mother," Suzanne replied.

  Gregory laughed, which stung Ivy a little. They're both wasted, she reminded herself.

  It took a long time for the six of them to find Gregory's car again. When they did, Will held out his hand for Gregory's keys. "How about if I drive?"

  "I can handle it," Gregory told him.

  "Not this time." Will's tone was easygoing, but he reached determinedly for the keys.

  Gregory yanked them away. "Nobody drives this Beamer but me."

  Will glanced over at Ivy.

  "Come on, Gregory," she said. "Let me be the D.D."

  "If someone else drives," Will pointed out to Gregory, "you can drink all you want."

  "I'll drink all I want and I'll drive all I want," Gregory shouted, "and if you don't like it, walk."

  Ivy thought about walking-to the nearest phone and calling for a ride. But she knew Suzanne would stay with Gregory, and she felt responsible for her safety.

  Will asked Ivy if he could borrow her sweater, then stuffed that and his jacket between the two front seats, making a seat in the middle. He pulled Eric into the front of the car with him, so that Gregory, he, and Eric sat three across. Ivy climbed into the middle of the backseat, with Beth and Suzanne on either side.