Evercrossed kbaa-4

by Элизабет Чандлер

  Ivy simply raised an eyebrow and Bryan laughed good‐naturedly. ʺSo how about coming around for some lessons? Private lessons,ʺ he added, raising an eyebrow back at her. ʺIʹm a good teacher.ʺ Uh‐oh, Ivy thought.

  ʺWeʹre out of salsa,ʺ Kelsey said. ʺYour turn to fetch. Ivy.ʺ

  ʺGlad to,ʺ she replied, vacating her place on the swing, figuring Kelsey would be sitting there when she returned. Little green buttons everywhere.

  Fifteen

  ON THE FIRST DAY OF WORK AUNT CINDY HAD MADE it clear that, at an inn, where your job was to be cheerfully helpful to guests, arguing or turning a cold shoulder to another employee was prohibited. ʺGet over it or fake it,” she had said.

  Tuesday morning, Ivy and Will were assigned to the breakfast room; they faked it. But when a toddler threw his jelly toast on the floor, and the two of them bent over at the same time and knocked heads, Ivy began to giggle.

  ʺIʹve got it,ʺ Will told her, reaching for the goopy toast. Before Ivy could straighten up, the toddler poured milk over the side of his booster chair. Ivy felt a splash on her head, followed by liquid dribbling down her back. Will stared at her sopping hair and Ivy laughed at his expression. Grabbing a table linen, he started blotting her head, which made them both laugh.

  By the time the tables were cleared and the dishes in the dishwasher, most of yesterdayʹs tension had disappeared.

  ʺWe should leave here about two forty‐five,” Will told Ivy as they left the inn together. ʺAfter we get the bonfire permit, we can check out Race Point, then find a place for dinner in Provincetown.ʺ

  ʺSounds good,ʺ Ivy replied. At the cottage, she picked up her music and headed to church. She was determined to make her practices regular and focused as it had been in Connecticut.

  But as Ivy warmed up at the keyboard, her mind continually played back moments from yesterday — Guy standing behind her as she played the sonata, Guy lowering his head close to hers as they stood at the edge of the sea.

  At last she got back her concentration and worked hard for more than an hour.

  When she finished, she played songs she knew by heart—ʺTo Where You Are,ʺ then ʺMoonlight Sonata.ʺ Several measures into Beethoven, she stopped. She was thinking about Guy, about the way he had wandered about the church while she played, and how he had known the name of the piece. She was thinking about Guy when playing Tristanʹs song!

  She dropped her hands in her lap. ʺWhy did you stop?ʺ Ivyʹs head jerked up. ʺI didnʹt hear you come in.ʺ

  ʺI know.ʺ Guy was sitting on the end of a pew, halfway down the aisle of the small church. ʺAbout ten minutes ago you were playing like a crazy woman, like you were performing at Lincoln Center.ʺ

  Lincoln Center? He knew what the concert hall was — another clue about his life, slight as it might be. “How was work?ʺ she asked. ʺYou didnʹt tell me why you stopped,ʺ he replied.

  Ivy turned all the way around on the piano bench. ʺI donʹt tell you everything.ʺ

  He smiled and let her off the hook. ʺWork was terrific. It felt good to be doing something physical and thinking about nothing but what I was doing. The guy, Kip McFarland, is in his twenties and has a small landscaping business. The payʹs low, but itʹs a start, and thereʹs a fringe benefit.ʺ

  ʺWhich is?ʺ

  ʺI get to sleep with the lawnmowers in an old barn. It has one window that isnʹt covered, a toilet, and an outside shower. It also has a pile of useless stuff Iʹm supposed to clean out. Want to come see it?ʺ

  ʺA pile of useless stuff? How could I resist?ʺ a few minutes later, with Guy supplying directions, Ivy drove to Willow Pond, which was off Route 6A, close to the bay side of the cape.

  A crushed stone drive led them through woods to an old clapboard house with gables and a wraparound porch. With a lot of hard work — and gallons of paintthe house, its weeping trees, and the round pond reflecting them would look like a scene on one of Aunt Cindyʹs jigsaw puzzles.

  ʺKip and his wife bought the house last fall and are restoring it,ʺ Guy said.

  ʺThey want to run a B and B some day, but they need money, so he does carpentry and landscaping, while she teaches, and in the summer helps him with the business.ʺ

  Guy led Ivy past the right side of the house to the barn. The gray wood structure leaned noticeably toward the surrounding woods, like a building seeking shade. ʺHome sweet home,ʺ he said. ʺIf you tilt your head, it looks straight.ʺ Ivy grinned. ʺI canʹt wait to see inside.ʺ

  Moving from the bright June day into the buildingʹs darkness. Ivy couldnʹt see anything at first, but she could smell. ʺI know,” Guy said, hearing her sniff. ʺYou get used to it.ʺ

  ʺMulch. And fertilizer. Some.. very rich fertilizer.ʺ

  As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting she saw the mountain of stuff that needed to be cleared out — furniture, books, lamps, lobster pots, and fishing gear that looked old enough to have been used by the pilgrims.

  ʺIs there a light in here?” He pointed. ʺOver the rider mower. Everything on that side is equipment for the landscaping business.ʺ He picked up an old lantern. ʺKipʹs wife is lending me this.ʺ When he lit it, the lanternʹs heavy, ringed glass glowed warmly. ʺOh, I like it!ʺ

  ʺI thought you might. Hey, here comes my new roommate, Fleabag.ʺ

  A skinny black‐and‐white cat had slipped through the open door and was sauntering toward them. ʺYouʹre kidding, right?ʺ

  ʺAbout the fleas or us being roomies?ʺ

  ʺBoth.ʺ

  Guy set down the lantern. ʺWell, I was here for twenty minutes when Kip was showing me the place, and Flea‐bag scratched himself for about ten of those minutes, then flopped down on my backpack.ʺ

  ʺIʹll get him some flea medicine.ʺ

  ʺYouʹll be more successful getting it for me. Kip said it took forever to trap him and get him to a vet. Heʹs too feral to adopt, but he enjoys showing up now and then and hanging out. You can see why weʹre meant for each other,ʺ Guy added dryly.

  ʺYes.ʺ Ivy surveyed the mess around them. ʺSo where exactly are you going to sleep? You could try that rafter, if you donʹt mind hanging upside down by your feet.ʺ

  ʺI donʹt mind, but Iʹm guessing itʹs already taken by the bats. Thanks to you, however, I have my bedroll. Iʹll just have to clear a space.ʺ ʺLetʹs get started,ʺ she said. ʺNow?ʺ

  ʹʹWith two of us, it will be easier to move the big things,ʺ Ivy told him. She eyed the cat. ʺAnd I donʹt think your roomy is going to lift a paw.ʺ ʺHe will when we disturb a nest of mice.ʺ

  ʺTill then,” Ivy replied, picking up a chair with a missing leg and heading toward the door. She carried it out to the portable Dumpster that she had seen between the house and barn.

  Guy followed with a bent floor lamp and old radio. ʺIf we can get the two sofas out of there,ʺ he said, ʺweʹll have some elbow room to work.ʺ

  A short sofa with exposed springs was fairly easy to move, but the other one, a sleeper that kept unfolding, was twice as heavy. Ivy and Guy tugged and pulled and dragged.

  ʺHow are you doing?ʺ Guy asked when they were almost to the door. Sweat dripped in her eyes and made tiny rivulets between her ears and cheeks. ʺOkay.

  Hey! Look how clean your floor is where weʹve scraped it.ʺ

  ʺThatʹs where my bedroll will go,ʺ he said. Why donʹt we leave this here for now? Iʹll ask Kip about using his trailer. If we drag the sofa across the lawn, weʹre going to take the grass with us, roots and all.ʺ ʺAgreed.ʺ

  They found brooms among Kipʹs lawn equipment and swept the concrete floor, beginning to make a space for Guy, then set to work on the pile of stuff. It was a kind of treasure hunt, and they began calling out ʺLoot!ʺ when one of them found something of interest — a lamp base shaped like a rearing horse, magazines from the sixties, a turntable with a scratched record still on it—ʺChad and Jeremy,ʺ Ivy read from the label, then shrugged and carried it outside.

  They settled into a comfortable rhythm, examining, sharing, walking back and forth to the
Dumpster.

  At one point Ivy saw Guy walk into the shed with an armful of National Geographics. ʺExcuse me, I just put those out,ʺ she said.

  ʺI know, but they looked interesting.ʺ He placed them next to his bedroll, with the magazines from the sixties. After rolling out a rusty push mower, he returned with a stack of old science books. This time Ivy didnʹt comment; after all, it was his place.

  Between the two of them, they carried out a heavy sink. ʺLook at this!ʺ he said, holding up several sports books filled with pictures and large print, apparently written for children. He tucked them under his arm and carried them back to the shed.

  When, two hours and many books and magazines later, he added to his stacks the cookbooks that Ivy had just carried to the Dumpster, she could keep silent no longer. ʺDid you happen to notice you donʹt have a kitchen?ʺ

  ʺI might someday.ʺ Ivy laughed.

  ʺTime for a break. Let’s sit in the living room,ʺ he said, gesturing to the bedroll.

  ʺSomething to drink?ʺ He opened his backpack and drew out two bottles of water. Ivy took a long drink, then wiped her sweaty face on her sleeve. ʺNice shade of dirt youʹre wearing,ʺ he remarked. She touched her cheek.

  ʺOther side,” he said, then reached and softly wiped that cheek. For a moment.

  Ivy couldnʹt breathe, couldnʹt speak. She was under a spell from the touch of his fingers. Then something brushed past them— Fleabag. Ivy quickly turned away from Guy, acting as if her attention had been caught by the cat.

  ʺNow you show up,ʺ Guy grumbled to Fleabag, then rested against his backpack. ʺIt’s shaping up. I like it,ʺ he said, surveying the piles of books and magazines encircling them. ʺItʹs homey.ʺ

  Homey, thought Ivy. That was how she would describe the house where Tristan had lived with his parents. She remembered the first time she saw it, when Tristan adopted her cat, Ella. Their living room was buried under books and magazines. ʺYouʹre smiling,ʺ Guy said. She shifted back to the present. ʺIf s comfortable, but not my dream home.ʺ

  ʺWhat is your dream home?ʺ he asked curiously. ʺA small house on the water.

  Living room, kitchen, and bedroom, a porch facing east, another facing west, and two fireplaces. How about yours?ʺ

  ʺIʹd live inland, in a fancy tree house.ʺ Ivy laughed. ʺIt would have several levels — and be built between two trees,” Guy continued. ʺI know a place like that.ʺ

  ʺIt would have a rope ladder, of course. And a swing.ʺ Ivy loved the swing that hung under Philipʹs tree house, which was near the edge of her familyʹs property. High on the ridge above the river and train tracks, the view was spectacular.

  ʺAnd it would be high on a ridge, so I could see over the countryside.ʺ Ivy looked at Guy with surprise. ʺWhat is it?ʺ he asked.

  ʺThatʹs exactly like my brotherʹs.ʺ Her mind slipped back to the day that Philip had almost fallen from the tree houseʹs walkway. Gregory had never admitted to loosening the board, and Ivy, who had lost her faith in angels, had not seen the golden shimmer that Philip had. But she believed now, as Philip did, that Tristan was there for him. Was Tristan here still?

  Iʹll always be with you, Ivy. She heard the words now as clearly as she had the night of the accident when Tristan kissed her. Ivy knew the old saying — the eyes were the windows of the soul — and sometimes when she looked in Guyʹs eyes, it was as if Tristan…

  No, she was imagining it. ʺIvy, youʹre trembling.ʺ He touched her hands lightly and she tried to make them still in her lap. ʺTell me,” he said.

  Ivy shook her head no. Guy was confused enough about his identity, without her telling him that he made her feel as if Tristan was present.

  ʺSometimes you look so sad,ʺ Guy said. ʺI donʹt know how to help you.ʺ

  Ivy touched his face gently. ʺI know how you feel — sometimes you look so lost.ʺ

  Sixteen

  IT WAS A SERIES OF COINCIDENCES, IVY TOLD HER‐self as she turned onto Cockle Shell Road. She had left Guy in his ʺhomeyʺ place with a new ice chest and leftovers from the early dinner they had purchased in town.

  Guy had asked her to stay longer, but she needed time to think. She couldnʹt keep her mind from running through the odd moments that linked Guy with Tristan. If she dared to tell Will and Beth what she was starting to believe, she knew what they would say: She was imagining it — it was just the anniversary.

  The anniversary! Oh, no! She had completely forgotten about going with Will to get the fire permit. When she and Guy had driven to the takeout place, she hadnʹt bothered to check her cell phone and had totally forgotten about dinner in Province‐town.

  Willʹs car was gone from the Seabrightʹs lot Ivy walked slowly down the path to the cottage. She was thinking about how she would explain when she heard his Toyota pull in. She stopped and waited nervously. When Will approached the house, he walked fast, his head down. ʺWill,” she said softly.

  He looked up sharply and she could read in his face all the emotions he was feeling: relief, disbelief, and anger.

  ʺWill, Iʹm so sorry!ʺ She lifted her hand to reach toward him, then quickly dropped it to her side; something — she didnʹt know what — stopped her from touching him. ʺIʹm so sorry,ʺ she repeated. A long silence followed. ʺThatʹs it?ʺ he asked. ʺIʹve let you down.ʺ He swore under his breath.

  ʺIʹm really sorry, Will. I just… forgot.ʺ ʺDo you have amnesia too?ʺ he replied sarcastically. ʺIs it contagious?ʺ His eyes bored through her. ʺThatʹs where youʹve been, isnʹt it? With him, with Guy.ʺ ʺYes.ʺ

  ʺI canʹt believe it! Why do girls do stuff like this — run after guys who seem mysterious and exciting, but have nothing to offer.ʺ

  ʺIʹm not running after—ʺ He cut her off. ʺI love you, Ivy, but this is killing me.ʺ

  She swallowed hard. ʺWhy are you doing this to me?ʺ he shouted at her.

  ʺI donʹt know!ʺ she shouted back. She saw him struggle to control his anger; in some ways, she wished heʹd keep shouting.

  ʺYouʹre acting like you did after Tristanʹs death, when Gregory seduced you—ʺ

  ʺWhat?!ʺ

  ʺAnd you kept standing up for him,ʺ Will continued, ʺwhen you kept trusting Gregory even though there were a million signs that you shouldnʹt.ʺ

  ʺLike you werenʹt Gregoryʹs friend, too?ʺ Ivy challenged him. ʺI recognized him for what he was and stayed friends long enough to help you and Tristan.ʺ

  Will sucked in his breath. ʺTristan. It always comes back to him, doesnʹt it? God, what an idiot I am!ʺ Ivy lowered her head. The night you were in the accident, when I got to the hospital, the paramedic asked me if I was Tristan.ʺ

  Ivy winced. ʺHe said you had been calling for him in the ambulance.”

  Ivy turned away. ʺThen the doctor, elated with your progress, came to me and said, ʹIʹve got good news for you, Tristan.”

  Ivy shut her eyes with the pain. Will had kept this to himself, even though it must have hurt him deeply. ʺHereʹs what I think,ʺ Will said, his voice husky with emotion. ʺI donʹt think youʹre really falling for Guy. I think you feel bad for him and find him a nice distraction.ʺ

  Ivy turned back toward Will. He went on quickly. ʺWith Guy, you can feel for somebody, help somebody, and still be in love with Tristan.ʺ

  ʺWill, I am so sorry—ʺ

  ʺThis fling with Guy, it helps you to separate from me,ʺ Will continued; ʺThe best thing I can do for you and for me is make the final break that you clearly want so much.ʹʹ His voice grew angrier. ʺH would have been a lot easier on both of us, Ivy, if youʹd had the guts to tell me when you knew it was over!ʺ

  ʺBut I didnʹt know—ʺ He slammed his fist into his palm. ʺGive me a break!ʺ

  ʺI knew something was wrong,ʺ Ivy explained. ʺI was trying to think things through.ʺ He nodded. ʺAnd why end it when it may turn out that you need me after all?ʺ

  ʺNo! Thatʹs unfair! I wouldnʹt have used you like that.ʺ

  ʺNext time youʹre thinking things through, try thinking about how it is
for someone other than yourself.ʺ He turned on his heel and headed back to the parking lot. ʺWhere are you going, Will?ʺ

  ʺI donʹt know. I donʹt care, as long as if s somewhere away from you.ʺ

  THE TEARS THAT HAD BEEN FILLING IVY’S EYES DURING the argument did not fall until five minutes after Will had driven away. Ivy walked back to the lot and stood motionless by her car, watching the road as if Will might come back.

  ʺItʹs over. Over,” she repeated to herself with disbelief. She noticed an envelope on her carʹs front seat Opening it, she found the permit for the bonfire. She climbed inside her car, closed the door, and cried.

  Ivy drove for an hour and a half — Route 6 first, needing to drive fast, and when she had stopped crying, the winding, dual‐lane 6A. She was tempted to call her mother — but her mother loved Will. Philip loved Will. Beth loved Will. So did she, but maybe not enough.

  By the time she returned to the inn, it was nearly dark. Willʹs car was back; Kelseyʹs was gone and no one was in the cottage. Ivy sat in the living room, trying to work on the puzzle, riffling through the box, pulling out one piece, then another, then putting them back. Restless, she walked outside, glanced at the swing, then strode over to the innʹs back steps, where she felt less likely to be cornered by whoever came home first. If Will hadnʹt told the others about their break up, she would have to share the news before work tomorrow.

  Behind her, the kitchen door opened, spreading the roomʹs yellow light on a swath of grass. ʺDonʹt get up,” Aunt Cindy said, then came out and sat on the steps next to Ivy. ʺHow are you doing?ʺ

  ʺOkay.ʺ

  ʺPretty tough, huh?ʺ Ivy nodded. ʺYeah. Who told you?ʺ

  ʺBeth. Listen, Ivy, I can make sure that you and Will arenʹt on the same work team for a week or so, but youʹll still be living and working in close quarters. I canʹt have you quarreling in front of guests, and I canʹt have the others taking sides.ʺ Ivy nodded.

  ʺIf you feel like you canʹt deal with the situation, youʹve got to let me know.ʺ

  ʺOkay.ʺ Aunt Cindy rested her hand lightly on Ivyʹs back. ʺI know it seems as if the pain is so bad that it will never get better. But it will, Ivy. It really will,ʺ she said, then went inside.