"Come on. Let's talk," Beth said, giving Ivy a light push toward the swing.
Beth remained quiet while Ivy cried. "I feel so bad about hurting him," Ivy said, wiping her eyes.
"I feel bad for both of you," Beth replied, then added softly, "It's hard for Will—and for me—to understand. I mean, after all you've been through together, how can you not love him?"
"I do love him," Ivy insisted. "But maybe not the way he wants to be loved."
Beth leaned forward, looking into Ivy's eyes. "The way anyone wants to be loved!"
"Yes, yes, you're right," Ivy admitted. "But, Beth, you can't always choose how you love a person. Love isn't logical or fair. It just happens."
In the faint starlight, Ivy saw the silver trace of a tear running down Beth's face.
"Did you tell him that I saw Tristan the night of the accident?" Ivy asked.
"That you thought you saw Tristan—no. No, he's already convinced he's competing with a dead guy. I'm not going to make it any harder for him. Ivy, did you really forget your date tonight?" Ivy nodded.
"I was with Guy, helping him."
"Guy!"
"Yes, cleaning out a barn, so he'd have a decent place to live, and—"
"Ivy, you have to be careful," Beth warned. "You have no idea who Guy is."
"What I know about him is more important than the name he's forgotten. There's a special connection between Guy and me, something I've felt only once before—with Tristan." Ivy ignored the disapproval that lined her friend's face.
"Beth, Guy was telling me about his dream house, and it was exactly like Philip's tree house. Guy couldn't remember what music he liked, but suddenly recognized 'Moonlight Sonata,' Tristan's song. And without even knowing what melody it was, he hummed a song from Carousel. Don't you remember—Tristan tried to communicate with me by playing on my piano notes from Carousel."
Beth shook her head with disbelief, but Ivy continued. "I think Tristan has come back to me."
"Oh, Ivy, no! That couldn't be."
"Why not?" Ivy asked, grasping the edge of the swing. "He spoke through Will and you last year. Why couldn't he now be speaking through Guy, giving me these signs that he is still with me? The night of the accident, Tristan promised—"
"Does Guy claim to hear another person's voice?" Beth asked.
"No, but—"
Beth leaned forward, placing a hand on Ivy's wrist. "When Tristan was here as an angel, we heard him. When he slipped into our minds, we knew who he was. And we never forgot our own identities."
Ivy pulled away from her friend. They sat for a moment in silence. Ivy fighting her anger with Beth for not believing as she did. When Ivy looked back, Beth was pulling on her amethyst necklace. Her lips moved silently, then she said aloud, "Something evil is walking among us."
"What?"
"Ever since the séance I have felt a presence," Beth said, her voice shaking. "It's him. It's Gregory. I haven't felt this way since he was alive."
Ivy stared at her friend, trying to understand what she was saying. "Beth, I know you were spooked by the séance. We all were. But why would you think that Gregory is haunting us? Has something else happened to scare you?"
Her friend didn't reply. "Tell me," Ivy said.
"A dream." Beth rubbed one hand with the other, digging her fist into her palm. "I've had it twice."
"Tell me," Ivy insisted.
"We're in the cottage, you, me, Dhanya, Kelsey. It's Aunt Cindy's cottage, but it has lots of windows, windows everywhere. Someone is circling the house, shooting at the windows. The bullets pierce the glass but don't go all the way through. We're running from room to room, and the shooter runs around the outside of the cottage, targeting the windows of whichever room we're in. He keeps circling, but you tell us everything's all right. We're safe, you say, the shooter can't break through the windows. Then he quietly opens the door and walks in."
Ivy sat back in the swing, rubbing her arms, her skin prickling. "Don't you get it?" Beth said, sounding suddenly angry. "You were careless and let the shooter in, just like you let in Guy!"
"Beth, not every dream you have is clairvoyant. Sometimes you dream about things that people tell you. Will doesn't like Guy. He's planted these fears in you."
Beth's eyes flashed. "It makes no difference what Will says. I see what I see!"
"So do I," Ivy replied, then rose from the swing.
"Ivy!"
She turned back reluctantly. Beth's hand clutched her amethyst. "If it's Gregory, you will need all the power of heaven to protect you."
Seventeen
"YOU KNOW, I THOUGHT YOU WERE, LIKE, MISS Perfect," Kelsey said to Ivy the next evening. "And when you were hanging with Will, you were, like, Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. Couple of the year."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
"So what exactly did he say to you?" Kelsey asked. They were standing outside the cottage, Kelsey bouncing a badminton birdie up and down on a racket.
Plunk, plunk, plunk.
"The kind of thing people usually say when they're breaking up," Ivy replied.
"Snide comments and sweeping accusations," Kelsey guessed. "I've done it myself a few times."
"Then I don't need to fill you in."
"He'll get over it," Kelsey said, and flicked her head toward the barn. "He has plenty of sympathy."
Beth had canceled her date with Chase, and Dhanya had decided that she really missed watching TV. Ivy pictured Will on his daybed, with Beth and Dhanya on either side of him, holding him up by the elbows like supportive angels.
"Want to play?" Kelsey asked, extending a badminton racket toward Ivy.
"Okay." They took warm up swings, batting the birdie back and forth across the net. "So, are you dating that gorgeous mystery guy?" Kelsey asked.
"Dating? No."
"Beth told us that's where you were when you forgot about your date with Will." Ivy caught up with the sinking birdie and flicked it off the rim of her racket.
"I was helping Guy clear out a place to live."
"Beth doesn't trust him." Ivy didn't respond. "Why doesn't she?" Kelsey asked.
"I don't know," Ivy said, and dove for the birdie. Kelsey appeared to change her strategy, placing her shots in easy reach of Ivy, perhaps thinking that would encourage her to talk more.
'"What do you think of Chase?"
"Don't really know him," Ivy replied, reluctant to share her opinion with someone likely to pass it on. Kelsey rolled her eyes.
"Well, five minutes gave me enough time. He's creepy."
"Creepy?" Ivy repeated with an easy swing.
"He's a control freak," Kelsey said. "There's nothing I hate more than a guy who tries to control a girl."
Ivy doubted that any guy had been successful at controlling Kelsey. "Beth told us about Tristan." Ivy returned the serve without comment "I had no idea! I've never known anyone whose boyfriend was murdered!"
Ivy swatted the birdie hard. "I wish I could have met Tristan and Gregory," Kelsey continued. "Last summer must have been awesome!"
Ivy stood flat footed—didn't even swing. What did Kelsey think last summer was, a reality survival show? "Keep your eye on the birdie," Kelsey advised.
"Beth said that Will was totally there for you when Tristan died."
"He was. No one could have been kinder."
"But kindness isn't passion," Kelsey replied. "And we like passion."
Ivy returned the serve with a passionate stroke. "Kelsey, don't assume anything about my and Will's relationship."
"I wouldn't have to assume if you filled me in." In spite of herself, Ivy laughed.
"Beth said you're having a memorial bonfire for Tristan at Race Point. Can Dhanya and I come?"
"I'm not sure it's still on."
"It is," Kelsey informed her. "That's another thing I don't like: guys who act loyal and thoughtful, no matter what you do. I mean, what are they trying to prove?"
Ivy dropped the head of her racket. "I've had enough."
/> "But we haven't started to keep score," Kelsey protested.
Ivy nodded. "A perfect time for me to quit."
Fifteen minutes later. Ivy slipped out the back door of the cottage and drove to the beach on Pleasant Bay where she, Will, and Philip had spent an afternoon a week ago. Sitting on the beach in the deepening twilight, not far from the cluster of trees that Will had sketched, she sifted through memories, trying to understand why it had taken her so long to realize she couldn't give Will her heart.
Rising to her feet, she followed the same route she and Philip had taken around a sandy point to a cove. With no moon, the calm water was bathed in starlight.
Ivy remembered the cathedral of stars where Tristan had kissed her. She whispered his name and could almost hear him answer, "My love." Almost.
The voice she heard in her head was a memory—she knew that. What she had heard then was actually happening.
The difference between now and then made the moment after the accident all the more real to her. To Ivy, the embrace was more real than the most tangible and ordinary moments of her life.
But what if it had been Tristan, and Lacey was right about the consequences?
"Serious fallout"—what did that mean? And what evil presence did Beth sense? Could Gregory return?
"Lacey. Lacey Lovett. I need to talk to you," Ivy called. She sat by the water's edge, watching, waiting. Minutes ticked by. Across the bay, the yellow edge of the moon peeked over a narrow strip of beach.
"You have the lousiest timing!" Seeing the purple shimmer. Ivy stood up. "Hey, Lacey."
"So what is it this time—another beatific vision? Ivy dancing with the stars?"
Ivy watched the angel twirl, her purple mist dancing in front of the low moon, then said, "Beth is having dreams."
"Beth—the radio?"
"Radio" was Lacey's term for a person who was open to "the other side," a natural medium. "Yes," Ivy said, and recounted the dream.
"When was the first time she had it?"
"I'm not sure. Two Sundays ago, when we had a séance—"
"A séance!" Lacey exclaimed. "The radio should know better!" Ivy described the event, including the strange way the planchette had moved in counterclockwise circles, and how it had seemed impossible for them to slow it down. "And this happened before your accident?" Ivy thought back to it.
"A few days before."
"Unbelievable. Unbelievable! Do you have a brain? Does the radio have even a shred of common sense, opening up a portal like that to the other side? Are you so narcissistic that you think that only good angels hang around you?"
"I—no—I never thought about—meaning, we could have let in—"
"Invited" Lacey corrected. "Flagged down, hailed a taxi for—"
"Something evil."
"Something evil," Lacey confirmed. Ivy crouched and traced a counterclockwise circle in the sand, then another, and another. A hand with purple painted nails caught her arm. "Stop that!"
"Is it possible for Gregory to come back as a demon?" Ivy asked. ''Obviously, you missed a lot of Sunday school. Anything is possible with Number One Director."
Ivy rose and walked along the cove's waterline. "But why would Gregory return?" she mused to herself.
"Revenge, murder, mayhem . . ." Lacey suggested.
It was what Beth had been thinking: If it's Gregory, you will need all the power of heaven to protect you. "Revenge against me," Ivy said. "But how would he do that?" Lacey responded with a loud, theatrical sigh.
"Think it through, chick. I'm sure you're not as naive as you seem. How did Tristan come back?"
"He worked through people's minds. He matched thoughts with us and slipped inside. We could hear him like a voice in our heads—Beth, Will, Philip, and finally, me."
"Later, Eric and Gregory, although I advised him against entering their twisted minds." Ivy felt as if an icy hand had touched her own. "Gregory could get inside people?"
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lacey said to her imaginary audience, "the chick is catching on."
"He could get into someone's mind and talk?"
"Persuade," Lacey said quietly. "Tempt." Ivy shivered.
"As you may remember," Lacey added, "Gregory could torture and tempt even when he was alive."
"Could he force someone to do something?"
"Who needs force, when people are so gullible, so easy to trick and convince? Not mentioning any names, of course."
"How can we fight him?'
"We?" Lacey's purple mist began to move away from Ivy. "In my movie days, I did some horror flicks, but I'm not starring in this one. You're on your own."
"How do my friends and I fight him?"
"I'm sure you can come up with something. Or maybe the radio can. I have one piece of advice: Be careful who you trust."
Ivy bit her lip.
"Look, chick, I'm sorry about this mess you're in, but I've got my hands full right now. I think I've found my one true gig, and I'm short on time. I've got to cut out these cameo appearances." The angel's violet shimmer was fading. "Say hello to Philip."
Lacey had almost disappeared when Ivy said, "But what if Tristan has come back to protect me from Gregory? Her words had the desired effect: "What?!" exclaimed Lacey.
"I've seen the signs. Tristan is with me, as he promised he would be." Ivy felt a strong hand anchoring her at the bay's edge.
"That's a ridiculous idea! If Tristan was here I would see him." Lacey had a point. Why wasn't she aware of him? Was Tristan hiding inside Guy? Hiding from whom?
"Ivy, if Tristan did give you the kiss of life," Lacey said, "he's in deep trouble. Don't try to contact him. Don't tempt him further. You've already gotten him killed. Don't damn him forever."
Eighteen
LACEY HAD ALWAYS BEEN MELODRAMATIC, IVY TOLD herself, as she sat alone in the cottage Thursday evening. Beth, Dhanya, and Will had left for a seven thirty movie.
Spurned by Dhanya, Max had roared off with Kelsey and Bryan to a party in Harwich. As soon as they were gone. Ivy took out her phone, playing a message she'd received an hour before, wanting to hear Guy's voice again: "lt's me. Kip got me a cell. Want to come over tonight?"
Pushing aside the warnings of Lacey and Beth, Ivy drove to Willow Pond.
When she arrived, she saw a pickup parked in front of the house. A dark haired woman in her late twenties stood next to it, holding open the door for a golden Lab, which lumbered into the passenger seat. The woman called hello to Ivy and introduced herself as Julie, Kip's wife.
"I hope you didn't have special plans tonight," Julie said. "Guy is on the back porch sound asleep. He and Kip started hacking away at tree stumps at six a.m."
Ivy smiled. "Just hanging out." Ivy walked around the house and found Guy asleep on the porch that faced the pond, lying on a canvas drop cloth, his shirt off, his body turned so that he was on his side, his head resting on his arm. In the evening light, his tanned skin and fair hair looked golden, reminding Ivy of a painting she had seen once of a sleeping angel.
Then she remembered the subject of the painting: a fallen angel, after his battle with heaven. She turned and walked toward the pond.
Fleabag was snoozing in the long grass. Ivy sat on the bank not far from the cat, gazing out at the water, enjoying the pond's reflection of the fiery sky and dark green trees.
The evening was the first really warm one they'd had on the cape, balmy and sweet scented, the way summer nights were inland. She waded into the pond.
After the brine of the ocean, the freshwater felt soothing to her skin. Her shorts and halter top were as light as a bathing suit She swam and swam, loving the solitude and peace of the place. When she was tired, she flipped on her back to float.
It's such a great feeling, Ivy. Do you know what it's like to float on a lake, a circle of trees around you, a big blue bowl of sky above you?
Tristan, she called to him silently. I do know—I know now, Tristan. "Hey, are you asleep out there?" Guy shouted to her. Ivy raised
her head, then pulled her feet under her and stood up.
"Asleep!" she hollered back. "You're the one who was snoring."
"No way!" He looked around, then pointed. "I think you must have heard Fleabag."
"Cats can't purr that loud," she teased, and waded toward shore. When she was a few feet from Guy, he said, "You looked so happy out there."
"I was. It's such a great feeling, floating on a pond, a circle of trees around you, the sun sparkling at the tips of your fingers and toes."
Perhaps it was a reflection off the water. For a moment Guy's eyes seemed brilliant, the color of Tristan's "big blue bowl of sky."
"Come on in," Ivy coaxed.
Guy looked down at the water that lapped his ankles and swallowed hard. "I don't think I know how to swim."
Ivy tried to hide her disappointment. If Tristan was in Guy, Guy wouldn't fear water as calm as a swimming pool's.
Live in the present moment, Ivy told herself. Help him, as Tristan helped you.
Tristan had eased her beyond her fear by suggesting they take "a walk" in the school swimming pool. She reached for Guy's hand. "Come on. Let's go for a walk in the pond."
After a moment of hesitation, Guy took her hand. They walked slowly and quietly together, moving through the liquid gold of the pond. When the water was waist deep on Guy, Ivy stopped, and ran her fingers across the water's still surface, sending out plum colored ripples.
She faced Guy, then scooped up water, pouring handfuls over his shoulders and chest. Reaching higher, she bathed his cheeks and forehead, remembering how Tristan had done that for her. "You okay?" Guy nodded, then smiled sheepishly.
"We won't walk any farther. Can you crouch?" she asked. Bending her legs, she lowered herself until the water reached her chin. Guy did the same, moving slowly and steadily, but when the water touched his neck, he instinctively pulled up.
"Easy does it." She reached for his other hand, holding them both securely in hers. He lowered himself again, until their faces were inches apart.
"Next time I'll bring a float and give you a real lesson. Today, we'll just splash around so you can get used to it. Can you put your face in the water?"