Soulmates kbaa-3

by Элизабет Чандлер

  "Come here, Ivy. Don't make this difficult."

  Ivy hated his patronizing tone.

  "Come on!" Gregory ordered. "Do you want me to get Ms. Bryce?"

  She glared at him, but she knew she couldn't fight him. "No," Ivy said at last. "I can get down by myself.

  Go ahead. Go ahead! I'll follow you."

  "Good girl," Gregory said, then descended the ladder. Ivy walked to the end of the board and turned around. She was about to back down the first step when Suzanne called out "Will! Over here! Hurry."

  "Be quiet, Suzanne," Gregory said.

  But Will, who had just come into the pool area, saw Ivy up on the board and ran toward Gregory and Suzanne. "Beth said you were looking for her," he said to them breathlessly. "Is she okay? What was she trying to do?"

  The resentment burning in Ivy now flared into anger. She. Her. They were talking about her as if she couldn't hear them, as if she couldn't understand.

  "She and her are right here!" Ivy shouted down at them. "You don't have to talk about me as though my mind has gone."

  "She thinks Tristan's up there and is going to help her," Suzanne told Will. "She said something about Tristan's light."

  With that, Will gazed up at Ivy. Ivy glared down at him. Her furious stare was met with a look of wonder.

  His eyes traveled along the board behind her, searching. He glanced quickly around the pool, then up at her again. She saw the word "Tristan" on his lips, though he did not speak it aloud. At last he asked her, "Can you get down all right?"

  "Of course I can."

  Gregory and Suzanne stood on either side of the ladder as she climbed down, as if they might have to catch her. Will stood apart from them and continued to glance around the pool.

  When Ivy reached the bottom, Suzanne hugged her, then held her at arm's length. "Girl, I could just shake you, shake you." She was laughing, but Ivy saw the tears in her friend's eyes and the relief in her face.

  Gregory stepped in then and put his arms around Ivy, pulling her close.

  "You scared me, Ivy," he said. Ivy could barely breathe and tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let go.

  Suzanne laid a hand on Gregory's arm. She was over her scare now and did not look happy about the long embrace. Will kept his distance, saying nothing.

  "I'll take you home," Gregory said, freeing Ivy at last.

  "No, I'm fine," she protested.

  "I want to."

  "Really, Gregory, I'd rather-" "Am I supposed to walk?" Suzanne interrupted.

  Gregory turned to her. "I'll take you first, Suzanne, and then-" "But I'm all right," Ivy insisted.

  "She's all right," Suzanne echoed. "She is, I can tell. And we had plans."

  "Suzanne, after what just happened, you can't expect me to leave Ivy alone. If Maggie's at home, then we can-" "Could I give you a ride home, Ivy?" Will cut in.

  "Yes. Thanks," she replied.

  Gregory looked irritated.

  Suzanne smiled. "Well, then, big brother," she said, putting her arm around Gregory, "it's all worked out.

  You have nothing to worry about."

  "You'll stay with her?" Gregory asked Will. "You'll take care of her until Maggie gets home?"

  "Sure." Will glanced up at the diving board. "Either I will or Tristan will," he added.

  Ivy cocked her head at him. Suzanne giggled, then covered her mouth with her hand. Gregory didn't crack a smile.

  Chapter 4

  "Oh, hi!" Beth said a few minutes later, looking up to see Ivy and Will.

  She was sitting against Ivy's locker, pencil in hand, looking as if she had been busily writing a story. But when Ivy glanced down at Beth's notebook, she knew better.

  "If you write that way, you're going to have the end of the story at the beginning," Ivy said, leaning down and turning the notebook around.

  Will laughed lightly, and Beth blushed.

  "I guess I'm not much of an actress," she said, standing up. "You okay?"

  Ivy shrugged. "I don't know how to answer that question anymore-and when I do, no one believes me anyway."

  "She's okay," Will said, laying his hand on Beth's shoulder, reassuring her. Oddly enough, his confident tone reassured Ivy too.

  She gathered her books, and the three of them headed out to the parking lot. Beth walked between Ivy and Will, keeping the conversation going.

  But a few minutes later, when Beth drove off, Ivy and Will fell into an uncomfortable silence. Ivy climbed into his silver Honda and kept her eyes straight ahead. As they headed toward her house the only thing he asked was whether she wanted the windows up.

  Since the party Will had been avoiding Ivy at school. She figured he was probably embarrassed about their strange conversation on the dance floor.

  And she was grateful to him for swallowing his pride enough to get her out of a jam with Gregory and Suzanne.

  "Thanks again," Ivy said.

  "No problem," Will replied, adjusting the sun visor.

  Ivy wondered why he didn't ask for an explanation of what she had been doing up on the diving board.

  Maybe he just assumed it was what crazy people did. As he drove he kept his eyes on the traffic. When they stopped at an intersection, Will seemed unusually attentive to the people crossing in front of the car.

  Then he stole a sidelong glance at her.

  "That was a joke, wasn't it?" Ivy blurted out. "When you told Gregory that you'd take care of me-or Tristan would-you were just making a joke."

  The light changed, and Will drove a block before answering. "Gregory didn't laugh," he observed.

  "Were you making a joke?" Ivy persisted, twisting around in her seat.

  "What do you think?"

  "What does it matter what I think?" Ivy exploded. "I'm the crazy girl who tried to kill herself."

  Will turned the wheel suddenly and pulled over to the side of the road.

  "I don't believe that," he said quietly.

  "Well, everyone else does."

  He kept the motor running and rested his arms on the wheel. Ivy studied the flecks of paint on his hands.

  "Some people may have bought the rumors," he said, "but I'm surprised you would."

  She didn't say anything.

  "It seems to me"-his voice was calm and reasonable-"that_ reallyp crazy people don't think they're crazy. Why would you?"

  "Well, there is that little story about my showing up at a train station," Ivy replied, unable to stop the sarcasm in her voice, "just before the late-night express rushed through."

  He turned to her, his dark eyes challenging her. "Do you remember driving yourself there? Do you remember planning to jump in front of the train?"

  Ivy shook her head. "No. None of that. I only remember the light afterward. The shimmering."

  "Which is what you saw up on the diving board."

  She nodded.

  "I wonder why you see him and I hear him," Will said.

  "You hear him?" Ivy reached over and switched off the motor. "You hear him?"

  "So does Beth."

  Ivy's mouth dropped open.

  "She writes stories with messages that aren't hers. I draw angels I don't mean to draw." He drew an invisible image on the windshield. "We both thought we were losing it."

  Ivy remembered the day at the electronics store, when Beth had typed on a computer: "Be careful, Ivy.

  It's dangerous, Ivy. Don't stay alone. Love you. Tristan." Ivy had run from the shop, furious at Beth for playing that trick. But she should have listened. Days later, she had been attacked at the house.

  "He's warning you," Will continued, "Beth thinks it's something bigger than any of us can handle on our own, and she's scared to death."

  Ivy felt the skin prickle on the back of her neck. Since the evening before, all she had thought about was reaching out toward the light that she believed was Tristan. She'd avoided the frightening question about why an angelic Tristan might be trying to reach her.

  "You have to remember what happened," Will we
nt on. "That's what Tristan was trying to tell you the night of the party, when we were dancing."

  "He was with you then?" In her mind Ivy began to run through all the strange events of the past summer.

  "So the angels you drew, and that picture of an angel who looked like Tristan-" "I was as amazed as you," Will said. "I tried to tell you, I'd never do something like that to hurt you. But I didn't know how to explain what happened. He got inside me. It was as if all I could do was draw those angels. My hands hardly felt like my own."

  She reached over and laid her hand on his.

  "I think he meant to comfort you," Will added.

  Ivy nodded and blinked back tears. "I'm sorry I didn't understand then.

  I'm sorry I got so angry at you." She took a deep breath. "I have to remember. I have to go back to that night. Will, would you take me to the train station?"

  He started the car immediately. When they arrived, several people had just gotten off a commuter train from New York City. Will parked the car as the station emptied out. Then he walked with Ivy as far as the steps to the southbound platform. "I'm not going to say anything more," he said. "It's probably best if you poke around on your own and see what comes to you. But I'll be right here if you need me."

  Ivy nodded, then climbed the steps. From the police report she knew which pillar Philip had found her leaning against-propped up against, she corrected herself: the one labeled D. But she had forgotten how close the metal pillars were to the edge of the platform and how close the platform was to the track.

  When she saw it, her stomach lurched.

  She knew she should stand with her back against the pillar and try to remember how it had been that night, but she couldn't do it, not yet. She hurried along the platform to the steps that led to the bridge over the tracks. Then she crossed the bridge to the other side. From the northbound platform, Ivy looked back at Will, who was sitting on a bench, waiting patiently for her.

  She began to pace around. Who could have been there that night? If Philip's story was true, someone had dressed up like Tristan. Almost anyone could have gotten their hands on a school jacket and baseball cap.

  And wearing them half in the shadows, anyone could have looked like Tristan-including Gregory.

  She backed away quickly from that thought. She was getting paranoid, suspecting Gregory. But maybe it wasn't so paranoid to imagine Eric doing it. She remembered the night he had drawn Will onto the railroad bridge just before a train came. Eric got his kicks out of dangerous games. And Eric definitely had access to drugs.

  A long, shrill sound broke in on Ivy's thoughts, a whistle from a train headed south, echoing against the steep wall of the ridge. She looked back over her shoulder at the rocky hillside. It seemed impossible that Philip could have made it down safely, but maybe if angels were real, if Tristan was there…

  The whistle sounded again. Ivy started to run. She took the steps two at a time, then raced across the bridge and down the other side. She could hear the rumbling of the train before she saw its headlight, a pale, blind eye in the daytime. It was one of the big Amtraks that would rush straight through.

  She ran to the pillar and stood with her back to it, close to the edge, transfixed by the train's white eye.

  Her heart beat faster and faster as the train sped toward her. She remembered Philip's old story about a train climbing up the hill-a train that was seeking her. It thundered toward her now, its lines sparking, the platform beneath her vibrating.

  She felt as if her shaking body would fly apart.

  Then the train blew by her in one long blur.

  Ivy didn't know how long he had been standing there, close behind her, letting her knot her fingers in his.

  She turned her head sideways, looking at Will over her shoulder.

  "I'm glad you didn't jump," he said with a half smile. "We both would have gone."

  Ivy loosened her fingers and turned to face him.

  "Do you remember now?" Will asked.

  She shook her head wearily. "No."

  Will lifted his arm as if he might touch her cheek. She looked up at him, and he pulled his hand back quickly, digging it into his pocket. "Let's get out of here," he said.

  Ivy followed him to the car, continually glancing back at the tracks.

  What if Gregory and Eric had worked together? she thought. But she still couldn't believe that anybody, least of all Gregory, would want to hurt her. He cared about her-she'd thought he cared deeply.

  They drove out of the parking lot silently, Will apparently as deep in thought as she. Then Ivy sat up quickly and pointed. About fifty yards past the exit, a red Harley was parked on the side of the road. "It looks like Eric's," she said.

  "It is."

  A long drainage ditch with high grass and shrubs bordered the road. Eric was searching the ditch and was so intent on his task that he didn't notice the car pulling over on the road's shoulder.

  When Will opened the door, Eric's head bobbed up. "Lose something?" Will asked, stepping out. "Need some help looking?"

  Eric screened his eyes against the slant of the sun. "No, thanks, Will," he called back. "I'm just trying to find an old bungee cord I use to tie things down." Then he noticed Ivy in the car. He seemed startled, glancing from her to Will and back again. He waved them on. "I'm giving up in a minute," he said.

  Will nodded and got back into the car.

  "He was looking awfully hard for an old bungee cord," Ivy remarked as they drove away.

  "Ivy," Will said, "is there any reason why somebody would want to scare you or hurt you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Is anyone holding a grudge against you?"

  "No," she replied slowly. There isn't anyone now, she thought. The past winter had been a different story: Gregory hadn't been at all happy about his father's marriage to Maggie. But his resentment and anger had disappeared months ago, she reminded herself quickly. Gregory had been wonderful to her since Tristan died, comforting her, even rescuing her the day of the break-in. It was Gregory who had gotten there first, scaring off the intruder, pulling the bag off her head just when Will arrived.

  Or had he? Maybe he had been there all along.

  His excuse for returning home that day had been an odd one. Suddenly Ivy felt cold all over. What if Gregory himself had attacked her, then changed plans when Will showed up?

  The thought ran through her like an icy river, and her scalp and the skin on the back of her neck crawled.

  Ivy twisted her hands. Without realizing it, she bent a pen she had picked up from the car seat, cracking its plastic shell.

  "Here," Will said, taking the pen away from her and offering her his hand. "I'll need my fingers back when we get to your house," he said, smiling, "but for now you won't get ink all over you."

  Ivy gripped his hand. She held on tightly to Will and turned her head to watch bright patches of green flickering past them, the end of summer spliced with sharp shadows of fall.

  "I've always been there for you. I love you." The words floated back to her. "Will, when we were dancing and Tristan was inside you, and you said-" She hesitated.

  "And I said…?"

  "'I've always been there for you. I love you.'" She saw Will swallow hard. "It was Tristan speaking, right?"

  Ivy said. "It was just Tristan saying that, and I misunderstood. Right?"

  Will watched a wishbone of geese flying across the sky. "Right," he said at last.

  Neither of them spoke the rest of the way home.

  Chapter 5

  Ivy stood next to Philip in his room, surveying a bookcase full of treasures: the angel statues she had given him after Tristan died, a stand-up paper doll of Don Mattingly, fossils from Andrew, and a rusty railroad spike.

  Philip and Maggie had arrived home that afternoon just as Will was dropping off Ivy. After Ivy and Philip shared a snack, she'd scooped up his school-books while he carefully carried his newest treasure, a moldy bird's nest, up to his room. Ivy watched him install the
nest in a place of honor, then she ran her hand down the line of angel statues. She touched one that wasn't her own, an angel in a baseball uniform with wings.

  "That's the statue Tristan's friend brought me," Philip told her. "I mean the girl angel. I've seen her a couple of times."

  "You've seen another angel? Are you sure?" Ivy asked, surprised.

  Philip nodded. "She came to our big party."

  "How can you tell her apart from Tristan?" Ivy wondered.

  Philip thought for a moment. "Her colors are more purplish."

  "How do you know she's a girl?"

  "She's shaped like one," he said.

  "Oh."

  "Like a girl your age," he added. From beneath a stack of comic books, Philip dug out a photograph with a strange pale blur in it. Ivy recognized the picture: it was the first photo that Will had taken of them at the arts festival.

  Philip studied it and frowned. "I guess you can't see as much here," he said.

  See as much what? Ivy wondered silently.

  "Do you really want just your water angel back?" Philip asked.

  Ivy knew he wanted to keep all the statues. "Just her," she assured him, then carried the porcelain angel into her own room. This was the statue Ivy loved most. Its swirling blue-green robe had prompted her to name it after the angel she had seen when she was four, the angel who had saved her from drowning. Ivy set the statue next to Tristan's picture, running her hand over the angel's smooth glazed surface. Then she touched Tristan's photo.

  "Two angels-my two angels," she said, then headed up to her third-floor music room.

  Ella followed her and leaped up into the dormer window across from Ivy's piano. Ivy sat down and began to work through her scales, sending out ripples of music. As her hands moved up and down the keyboard, she thought about Tristan, the way he'd looked when he swam, light scattered in the water drops around him, the way his light could shine around her now.

  The late sunlight of September was a pure gold like his shimmer, and the sunset would have the same rim of colors. Ivy glanced toward the window and stopped playing abruptly. Ella was sitting up, her ears alert, her eyes big and shiny. Ivy turned quickly to look behind her. "Tristan," she said softly.