Evercrossed kbaa-4

by Элизабет Чандлер

  Tilting back in a wooden rocker, her feet up on the porch railing, she gazed past the green edge of Aunt Cindyʹs yard to the ocean and cloudless sky, her mind drifting.

  Itʹs such a great feeling, Ivy. Do you know what itʹs like to float on a lake, a circle of trees around you, a big blue bowl of sky above you? Youʹre lying on top of the water, sun sparkling at the tips of your fingers and toes.

  She had pictured it so many times, floating with Tristan at the center of a sun-spangled lake, that the dream had become as tangible as the real memories she carried of Tristan.

  Why had she thought that escaping to Cape Cod would put distance between her and her memories? There was water everywhere, and everywhere that there was water, she thought of Tristan.

  Ivy sighed, opened her book, and stared at the words without reading them. A week ago she had awakened in the hospital certain that she had been kissed by Tristan.

  That had been no comforting dream as Beth had suggested; rather, it had made her long all the more for Tristan! And it made painfully clear the difference between what sheʹd had with Tristan and what she felt for Will. The weekend visitors and full work schedule had helped her and Will get through the last few days, but now that they had time to be together, she had been relieved when he said he was headed into Chatham to shop for art supplies.

  ʺHey, girl, get off your sweet bum and come running with me,ʺ Kelsey called to Ivy, shaking her out of her thoughts.

  Kelsey had trotted around the side of the inn and jogged in place for a moment.

  Her auburn hair was pulled high on her head in a bouncy ponytail.

  Ivy smiled at the invitation, which she suspected wasnʹt real, and shook her head no. ʺHow far do you run?ʺ

  ʺToday Iʹm doing five miles on the beach, which is like ten on the road, then twenty minutes of hard swimming and an hour of biking. Iʹm thinking of doing a triathlon in September.ʺ ʺYouʹre amazing,ʺ Ivy replied. ʺYou donʹt have to tell her that,ʺ Dhanya said, stepping onto the porch, carrying a bowl of frosty‐looking blueberries leftover from the innʹs breakfast. ʺKelsey already thinks it way too often.ʺ

  ʺKnows it,ʺ Kelsey corrected, then adjusted her iPod and took off for the stairway to the beach. Dhanya sat down. ʺBerries?ʺ she asked Ivy, holding out the bowl. ʺThanks.ʺ Setting the bowl on a small table between them, Dhanya rocked back and forth for a moment, then put her feet up on the railing, studying them.

  ʺLavender polish looks good on you,ʺ Ivy said.

  Dhanya wrinkled her nose. ʺIʹll never have pretty feet. Dancers donʹt — we abuse our toes.ʺ

  ʺDo you do ballet?ʺ

  ʺAnd modern, and jazz, even tap. I used to do Indian, but my teacher was old and strict — she had this thing about attitude. Discipline, Dhanya, discipline.ʺ

  Dhanya imitated a British‐sounding accent, and grimaced. ʺWant to come with Kelsey and me to Chatham today? Max is having a group of friends over from college.”

  ʺThanks, but Iʹm headed out to Provincetown with Beth and Will this afternoon.ʺ

  Dhanya sighed. ʺYouʹre so lucky — Willʹs greatʺ ʺMmm,ʺ Ivy replied, and changed the subject. ʺTell me about Max.ʺ Dhanya rolled her eyes. ʺKelsey said you liked him,ʺ Ivy added. ʺKelsey would like me to like him. Somehow she thinks heʹs perfect for me, which is kind of insulting. She keeps telling me Iʹm a snob. Do you think so?ʺ

  Ivy was surprised by the blunt question. ʺI think most of us are snobs in one way or another. We just donʹt see our own prejudices.ʺ

  ʺYes, but some people really are nose‐in‐the‐air types,ʺ Dhanya asserted. ʺI hate that. Especially when they do it to me.ʺ

  ʺSo, whatʹs Max like?ʺ Ivy asked.

  ʺRich.ʺ Dhanya pointed her toes, then relaxed her ankles. ʺI need to stop digging my feet in the sand. Theyʹre paler than my legs. . Max is rich and tacky, into stuff like cigarette boats and gaudy sports cars. He may have lots of money, but he acts so… blue collar.ʺ

  Ivy bit her lip to keep from laughing. Before her mother married Andrew, they had lived in blue‐collar Norwalk.

  ʺHis father owns a chain of discount clothing stores,ʺ Dhanya added.

  Ivy cocked her head. ʺSo?ʺ

  ʺMax looks like he buys his clothes from his father. I want someone as rich as Max and as classy as Will.ʺ

  ʺMaybe that guy will show up at Maxʹs beach party,ʺ Ivy replied, trying to hide her irritation— she didnʹt need anyone to remind her that Will was a great guy.

  ʺDid you date someone you really liked in high school?ʺ

  ʺNo, but I have a Facebook boyfriend,ʺ Dhanya said. ʺOf course, itʹs hard to take a guy from Australia to the senior prom.

  After a long silence, Dhanya added, ʺThanks for not saying, ʹGet real, Dhanya/

  Kelsey says I live in la‐la land. She says Iʹm afraid of real guys.ʺ

  For a moment, Ivy felt bad for Dhanya. ʺKelsey has a lot to say about you.

  Maybe she should focus on herself, and leave you alone for a while.ʺ

  Dhanya smiled a little, “Yeah. Maybe she should. More berries?ʺ

  ʺNo thanks”

  Dhanya scooped up the last handful, then picked up the bowl and headed back to the cottage.

  Opening her mystery. Ivy read the first chapter — read it twice before she had absorbed enough to go on. But eventually the sea, salty air, and sunny porch faded, and Ivy was creeping with the hero down a dark backstreet of London.

  About a half hour later, she felt a hand resting on her shoulder.

  ʺHey, Will,ʺ she said. ʺGet everything you wanted?ʺ

  ʺWhoʹs Will?ʺ At the sound of Guyʹs voice, Ivy spun around, not sure if she felt annoyed or glad about his reappearance. ʺHow did you know where to find me?ʺ

  ʺYour hospital papers. How did you know Iʹd come back to the parking lot?ʺ

  He was wearing the sweatshirt and cargos she had bought him — and his old shoes; the new ones were tied to the backpack.

  ʺI didnʹt. I was just too mad to go back in the store and return the stuff.ʺ

  One side of Guyʹs mouth lifted in a smile. He dropped his backpack on the porch. Seeing a new bedroll attached to it. Ivy hoped he had used her cash rather than shoplifting it.

  ʺHave a seat,ʺ she invited. He shook his head and leaned against the railing facing her. Iʹm kind of muddy.ʺ ʺWhere have you been staying?ʺ He shrugged.

  ʺAround.ʺ Ivy closed her book. ʺAround here?ʺ ʺHere and there,ʺ he replied elusively. ʺHave you eaten anything in the last four days?ʺ

  ʺYeah,ʺ said Guy, ʺbut you donʹt want to know what.ʺ

  ʺSure I do.ʺ He laughed. Was it the unshaven cheeks, the tousled hair, or the mischief in his eyes? What made his laughter sexy? ʺLeftovers,ʺ he said. ʺAn assortment of leftovers.ʺ

  ʺYum. Why didnʹt you come here right away?ʺ

  ʺBecause you had already done enough.ʺ

  ʺThen why are you here now?ʺ Guyʹs face grew serious. There was something mesmerizing about his eyes and the way they seemed to peer into her soul. She had no power to look away.

  ʺBecause Iʹm hungry enough.ʺ He turned away from her and gazed out at the water. ʺNice view.ʺ

  ʺSo what will it be,ʺ she asked, ʺbreakfast, lunch, or dinner?ʺ

  ʺWhatever you have.ʺ She stood up and held open the door for him. ʺCome on.ʺ

  ʺIʹll stay outside.ʺ

  ʺNo oneʹs here,ʺ she said. ʺCome on in.ʺ ʺWhat if Witt comes home?ʺ Ivy thought she caught a gleam in Guyʹs eye. ʺThen Iʹll introduce you/ʹ she said. ʺI feel better out here.ʺ

  Ivy shook her head. ʺAll right, but if I make you a meal, and come back and find youʹre gone, Iʹll be really teed off.ʺ

  ʺIf s almost worth hiding in the bushes, just to see you lose it,ʺ he replied, grinning. Sitting on the floor of the porch, he rested his back against the wood railing.

  Ivy retreated to the kitchen, and after a momentʹs thought made him a cheese omelet, figuring it would have plenty of protein, then cut a huge slab of
Aunt Cindyʹs homemade bread. She added to the tray an assortment of fruit and a cup of tea, and carried the tray through the parlor, pausing to look at Guy through the screen door. His eyes were closed and his shoulders sagged against the porch balusters. Ivyʹs heart went out to him — he was exhausted.

  ʺI smell food/ʹ he said, opening his eyes. She pushed open the screen door, debated for a moment where to set the tray, then put it on the floor next to him.

  ʺThank you,ʺ he mumbled, and started eating. Pushing aside her chair, Ivy sat on the porch floor a few feet away, studying him. He had removed his shoes and pushed up one sleeve to eat. She saw that his feet and ankles were bruised badly, as was his forearm. The fight heʹd been in must have been brutal.

  ʺSo where are you staying?ʺ Ivy asked. ʺWe already went over that,ʺ he replied.

  She nodded. ʺI thought maybe this time youʹd answer.ʺ

  ʺAround.ʺ Ivy drummed her fingers against the porch floor and asked herself where she would go if she wanted to sleep outside inconspicuously yet be around enough people to acquire ʺleftovers.ʺ Since he didnʹt have a car, some place not too far away. ʺNickerson State Park,ʺ she said aloud.

  His face remained a cipher. Having set down his fork, he picked up the mug of tea, holding it with both hands, as if he were warming them. It wasnʹt warmth Guy needed. Ivy thought, but com* fort, kindness. She didnʹt know how to help him; last time, her comfort and kindness had set him running.

  ʺHave you remembered anything about who you are?ʺ He took a sip of tea.

  ʺNo.ʺ

  ʺAre there still things that seem vaguely familiar?ʺ Guy frowned and gazed down at his tea. She wondered if he was choosing his words, deciding what to tell her and what to hold back.

  ʺIf anything, itʹs gotten worse. Now too many things seem familiar to make a pattern that I can understand. And sometimes things are contradictory. One day a smell, like a wood fire, gives me a good feeling; and the next day, that same smell makes me want to run.ʺ

  ʺWhen you went to the park, did you see a sign and follow it, or do you think you may have already known it was there?ʺ

  He hesitated. You can trust me, Ivy wanted to say. Sometimes the hardest thing to do was wait until another person decided to trust you.

  ʺI saw it on a map. I remember general things— such as motels having free maps in their lobbies. When I saw the size of the park on the map, I knew I could survive there and could hide if they came after me.ʺ Ivy leaned forward. ʺWhoʹs they?ʺ

  ʺI donʹt know.ʺ

  ʺBut itʹs more than one person?ʺ

  ʺI donʹt know!ʺ His eyes became a stormy blue. ʺHow am I supposed to know?ʺ

  Ivy bit her lip, realizing she had pressed too hard. His eyes, looking more gray than blue now, told her that he had withdrawn into his own thoughts and fears.

  He ran his finger over the long cut under his jaw. Ivy felt afraid for him, but she knew that telling him that would make him even more skittish of her.

  ʺHereʹs what I can offer you,ʺ she said. ʺA razor and a shower.ʺ

  ʺI donʹt need either,ʺ Guy answered quickly.

  ʺYouʹll probably feel better. If you let me wash and dry your clothes, youʹll be good for a few more days.ʺ He grimaced. ʺTrying to make me respectable?ʺ

  ʺYeah, if thatʹs possible.ʺ Guy raised an eyebrow and she laughed. ʺYou have a lot of research to do,ʺ she said.

  ʺYou want people to feel comfortable talking to you.ʺ

  ʹʹYou got a point,ʺ he said, smiling. “I’ll be quick.ʺ A few minutes later, in exchange for the clothes Guy had been wearing and the dirty clothes in his backpack, Ivy handed a washcloth and towel through the cottageʹs bathroom door. She had considered raiding Willʹs room for shaving supplies and deodorant, but something held her back, and she offered Guy her own instead.

  ʺOh, Iʹm going to smell good!ʺ he remarked.

  ʺThe laundry room is in the inn, back by the kitchen/ʹ she told him, then headed off with her bundle. While the washer was filling, Ivy searched Guyʹs pockets to make sure they were empty. She found a sheet taken from her release papers, listing the innʹs address and her familyʹs contact information, folded into a tiny square. Ivy wrote her cell phone number on it, then refolded the paper and set it in a bowl on top of the dryer. The other pocket had money in it, which she dug out and placed in the same bowl. When a glint of gold caught her eye, she poured the money back in her hand. Her breath caught in her throat.

  A shiny coin stamped with an angel lay in her palm, like a sign from heaven.

  Eleven

  PHILIP HAD REACHED OUT TO GUY AT THE HOSPITAL, IVY thought on her way back to the cottage, just as she had. Her instincts were right; both she and Philip were meant to find and help Guy. Ivy smiled to herself; maybe they were Guyʹs ʺangels.”

  “I need some clothes,” Guy called to Ivy from the second floor of the cottage.

  Ivy walked as far as the kitchen. ʺThey take longer to wash than you do,ʺ she called from the base of the steps. ʺThatʹs what the beach towelʹs for. When you come down, help yourself to anything you want to eat.ʺ

  She returned to the living room to work on a large puzzle, one of the many Aunt Cindy kept for rainy days at the inn. After clearing the coffee table, she sat on the sofa and studied the box top, which showed a painting of an idyllic New England town and bridge. Sorting through the jigsaw box, she pulled out green pieces with straight edges.

  Guy came in a few minutes later, munching an apple. His hair was still wet, darker than its usual streaky gold. Ivyʹs beach towel hung on him like a low-waisted skirt, leaving little to the imagination about his upper body strength — or his injuries. It took all of her self‐discipline not to stare at him.

  ʺWhere should I sit?ʺ he asked.

  ʺWherever you want.ʺ He glanced down at the puzzle box, then sat in an armchair that faced the coffee table, making an L with the sofa. Ivy, having extracted a small pile of green puzzle pieces, handed him the box, hoping the puzzle would take his mind off things. As Guy sorted through the contents, pulling out straight‐edged pieces of blue sky, he started to hum off‐key, which made Ivy smile.

  ʺAre you laughing at me?ʺ he asked. She met his bright eyes. ʺI wouldnʹt dare..

  What is that song?ʺ

  ʺYou canʹt tell?ʺ He grinned at her. ʺNeither can I.ʺ She tried humming what she had just heard, adjusting the flat notes, then said suddenly, ʺʹIf I Loved You.ʺ

  Guy looked up at her, startled.

  ʺIf s the title,ʺ she explained, and sang the first three lines for him. He laughed.

  ʺOh, yeah, now I recognize it.ʺ

  ʺItʹs from—ʺ Ivyʹs hand went up to her mouth as she remembered.

  ʺFrom what?ʺ

  ʺCarouselʺ she answered softly. Last year, when attempting to communicate with her as an angel, Tristan had played on her piano the first few notes of a song from Carousel.

  ʺDo you like musicals?ʺ she asked Guy, pulling herself back to the present.

  ʺI guess I do.ʺ

  They continued working on the puzzle. Ivy musing over the strange connection between events. ʺHereʹs one of yours,ʺ Guy said, suddenly leaning close to her, placing the green piece he had found next to those she had gathered.

  Ivy was caught off guard — she couldnʹt explain it, the feeling that swept through her at that moment. She became acutely aware of Guy, felt his nearness like a kind of heat inside her. Astonished, she sat back quickly. She thought about getting up, putting distance between them. But confusion and pride kept her cemented in place. She touched her cheeks, afraid they had turned a warm pink.

  ʺGot another.ʺ He leaned across her. An overwhelming sense of him passed through her like a wave, making her light‐headed. This was crazy! Ivy snapped together two pieces, then added a third.

  ʺI think you forced that last one,ʺ Guy observed.

  She pulled off the wiggly piece. ʺI know that!ʺ Perhaps the crispness of her response made him raise his head to study her. Hi
s face was three inches from hers. She tried to pull her eyes away, but couldnʹt. He lowered his eyes. She felt him staring at her mouth. If it were possible for a gaze to be a kissʺHey, Iʹm back!ʺ Ivy knocked over the box full of puzzle pieces. About one thousand four hundred little pieces scattered on the floor. ʺOh! Hey, Will,ʺ she replied, scooping up pieces as he came through the screen door.

  Guy leaned over to pick up the box that had fallen between him and Ivy. Will stopped in his tracks. Glancing down. Ivy realized what Will saw from his perspective: a bare back and broad, muscular shoulders. ʺWho are you?ʺ Will asked.

  Guy straightened up, rose to his feet, then quickly hiked up his towel. Will continued to stare at him, his eyes noting the injuries. Guy gazed back.

  ʺI said, who are you?ʺ

  ʺGuy is the name I go by.ʺ

  ʺGuy has just gotten out of the hospital,ʺ Ivy explained. ʺHe was on the same floor as me.ʺ

  ʺWas he?ʺ Will replied tersely. To Guy he said, ʺI assume you left the hospital wearing something other than Ivyʹs towel.ʺ Guy grinned. ʺYeah, I left wearing her shirt.ʺ Will didnʹt seem to find that amusing. ʺIt’s a long story,ʺ Ivy said.

  ʺIʹve got time.ʺ

  ʺGuy doesnʹt have a place to live right now,ʺ Ivy explained to Will. ʺHeʹs been dealing with a lot. I told him he could take a shower here. His clothes are in the wash. It’s the least we could do for him.ʺ

  ʺYeah, I can see heʹs dealing with a lot/ʹ Will remarked sarcastically, then set down his packages. Ivy felt bad, knowing he had dropped by the cottage first, excited about what he had bought at the art supply store and wanting to show her.

  ʺThe problem is, I canʹt remember what happened to me,ʺ Guy said. The way Will tilted back his head made it clear he didnʹt believe Guy. ʺWill, he canʹt remember who he is or where he lives,ʺ Ivy added, pleading for understanding.

  “Thatʹs convenient,ʺ Will remarked.

  ʺNot when it rains,ʺ Guy replied.