Evercrossed

  The eight of them had just sat down with their ice cream cones when Ivy's phone rang. Will turned to Ivy as if surprised. Of course, he knew the ring tones of her friends, her mother, Andrew, and Philip, just as she knew the ringtones of his friends and his father. It was one more example of how intertwined their lives had become, that he knew this ring was different. Still, she prickled at the way he looked at her, as if no one should be calling her except the people that he had pre approved.

  Walking a short distance away from the others, she put the phone to her ear.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey. It's me."

  "Hey."

  "Whoever that is," Guy added quickly. Ivy laughed and sat down on a chair at another table. "How was work?"

  "Hard. And fun. Guess what, I've got wheels!"

  "You do?" Ivy chased a dribble from her ice cream cone, catching it with her tongue.

  "Kip has loaned me an old motorbike. So what're you doing?" Guy asked. "That doesn't sound like classical music in the background."

  "No. It's disco—good to skate to, I guess." Ivy told him about the rink and free passes. "Want to come over?" There was a moment of silence.

  "Who's with you?" he asked.

  "Some people you haven't met." Ivy crunched on her cone. "Beth, Max, Bryan, and Chase. And Kelsey and Dhanya, who you might remember from the hospital solarium. And Will. I'd love to see you, Guy."

  "I don't think Will would love to." Ivy glanced over her shoulder. Will and Beth were watching her, and Ivy assumed they had guessed who was calling her. She could ignore their stares and hostility, but it wasn't fair to subject Guy to it.

  "Tomorrow then," she said. They talked a minute more before she returned to the table.

  "I can guess who that was," Kelsey teased. Ivy popped the tip of her cone in her mouth. "The gorgeous amnesiac."

  "The guy they fished out of the ocean?" Bryan asked, his interest piqued.

  "In Chatham, right?" Max added. "What was his name?"

  "He still doesn't remember," Ivy said. "He calls himself Guy."

  "How original," Chase remarked. "I just don't see how anybody can remain un-known for so long," Bryan said. "Did you Google him?"

  Chase leaned forward, "Using what search word?"

  "I tried Missing Persons in Massachusetts and Rhode Island," Will told them.

  Ivy looked at him with surprise. "And I assume the police and hospital did the same. I checked again yesterday, but there are still no matches."

  "Why didn't you try the FBI's Most Wanted List!" Ivy exclaimed.

  "I did. Of course, you have to be already convicted for that." Ivy turned away. "I checked with a friend of my father's in New York, a criminal defense attorney."

  Ivy swung back. "l can't believe you did that!"

  Will continued calmly: "He said that there are major turf battles and little communication between law enforcement officials from one town to the next and across state borders. Unless a person is running a major drug ring or part of a terrorist group, he could be on the lam or a suspect in a crime, and someone just ten miles away wouldn't be the wiser."

  It took all of Ivy's effort not to blow up at him in front of the others. "Thank you for such a thorough investigation, Will." She crumpled the cone's tissue wrapper, and rising, tossed it in a trash can before heading back to the ice.

  She had skated half a lap when Bryan caught up with her.

  "Contrary to popular opinion, you have a temper," he said, grinning at her.

  "Everyone has a point at which they lose their cool," Ivy replied.

  "Absolutely," he agreed. "It's one of the interesting things you learn when getting to know a person, the point at which they break. You don't break easily," he added. Ivy kept skating. "Is that because you have extreme self control or because you naively believe that people aren't sticking it to you?"

  "Are those the only two reasons you see for not losing your temper?"

  He skated in front of her, turning to face her, skating backward. "You know another one?"

  "Yes. You don't want to hurt the other person."

  "Oh, that. .." He smiled at her. "Dance with me, Ivy!"

  He slipped around behind her and skated close, his movements precisely matching hers. He faced her again, then turned her so that she skated backward.

  Like a good dancer, Bryan had both the strength and skill to know how to lean and turn his partner, making it seem easy. Skating with him was fun and Ivy smiled.

  Tiring of their dance, Bryan played a pretend game of hockey, rushing ahead, stopping on a dime, spinning back and circling Ivy as close as another skater could without actually touching. He skated backward, then charged her, as if he had a hockey puck, feinting to the left and the right. Ivy grinned and figured she was supposed to keep on skating—that he counted on her to hold a straight and steady line as he weaved and dodged about her. But once he faked so well she couldn't help it: She veered suddenly and they collided.

  "Whoa!" He grabbed her to keep her from falling and they spun around, Bryan laughing and holding her tightly. When they stopped spinning, he didn't let go, not right away. Ivy extracted herself from his arms and saw Kelsey watching them.

  "Let's just skate," Ivy said quietly to Bryan. "I think you've won this round with Kelsey." Bryan pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and skated in an easy rhythm with her. "And do you think that is all that I was trying to do—get to Kelsey?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay, I'll play along with you on that. I can pretend that I am madly in love with Kelsey and see no other girl but Kelsey, not even a girl with incredible hair and green eyes that a guy would never forget." When Ivy didn't respond, he turned to her. "I fake pretty well, you know."

  "I know."

  "You saw how well I could feint to the left and right. I can do that in more than hockey."

  "Yes, and you saw what happens when you fake too convincingly. Not all collisions end well."

  Bryan's eyes gleamed, and he threw back his head and laughed. "You have no idea," he said, then skated off.

  Twenty

  "YOUR BUTLER SHOWED ME IN," IVY SAID TO GUY ON Saturday afternoon, after Fleabag led her along the path that skirted the house to the pond.

  Guy smiled and spread a towel beneath the dappled shade of an old apple tree.

  They sat, resting back on their elbows, and talked about work: the eccentric artist whose lawn full of sculptures Guy had trimmed that morning, and the hermit crab Ivy had found hidden under a child's pillow. Guy's laughter came so much easier now. Ivy savored the sound of it.

  "Do you want a swimming lesson today?" she asked.

  "I was hoping you had brought your suit."

  She nodded. "And a float. I'll be right back." Ivy changed her clothes in Guy's shed, then cut across the long grass to the pond. A hundred feet from the water she stopped. Guy was nowhere in sight. The cat stood at the pond's sandy edge, staring at the water. Guy's T-shirt lay next to him.

  "Oh my God!" Ivy dropped the float and flew down the bank. "Guy!" she shouted. Ten feet into the pond she saw his dark shape at the bottom. "Guy!"

  She reached down to pull him up. At the same time he rose to his feet, knocking Ivy backward into the water. Caught by surprise, she came up coughing and sneezing. "What the heck were you doing?"

  "What were you doing?" he asked back, then, realizing the answer, started grinning. "Oh, you were saving me!" Feeling foolish. Ivy didn't smile.

  "I've been practicing staying under water," Guy explained. "I have to be able to face this fear without my lifeguard hovering over me. Don't be mad, Ivy." She couldn't be. It was the same thing she had told Tristan the day she had arrived at the pool before him and tested her courage by diving for a penny.

  "Look what I found," Guy said, opening his palm. Ivy's breath caught at the sight of the shiny penny.

  "I saw it flashing under the water, like a piece of sun," he told her. "It's a sign."

  She looked up quickly. "A sign... of what?" Tri
stan, are you there? she asked silently.

  Guy hesitated. "Hope. Or maybe it's just a penny."

  "No, it's a sign," she told him.

  He studied the penny. "Think I'll put this on the blanket. I don't want to lose my piece of hope." Ivy watched Guy walk to shore, head down, seeming deep in thought as he examined the penny. Should she tell him about that day at the pool when they first kissed? But if Tristan was hiding in Guy and if Lacey was right....

  "Ready for a swimming lesson?" she asked when he returned, carrying the float.

  "As ready as ever."

  "Okay. Kicking, breathing, and floating, those are today's objectives," she told him, trying to sound teacher like and disguise the fact that she felt his eyes wherever they lit on her skin.

  She coached him on the flutter kick, then instructed him to use the float and kick his way back and forth across the pond. Their lesson moved on to breathing: "Pretend the water's a pillow for your head," she told him, as Tristan had once told her.

  "You're a natural!" she announced ten minutes later. "You tell that to all your students."

  "Let's try the back float." she said, and demonstrated it.

  Guy studied her for a long minute, then cocked his head in a flirty way. "Can I just watch?"

  "No." Grinning, he dropped back in the water, seat first, and sank straight down. When he came up sputtering, Ivy laughed, and he splashed her.

  'I did the same thing when I was learning. You have to arch your spine and drop your head back far enough so that the water is lapping your forehead."

  She showed him again. She remembered how Tristan had placed a hand under her back to support her, then let her go. I'm floating, she had whispered to him.

  You're floating, Tristan had replied, gazing down at her.

  Floating ... Floating . . . Guy was standing over her now and Ivy read it off his lips. She felt Guy touch the tips of her hair that had spread out in the water behind her.

  He leaned over her, the sun behind his head making a halo of gold, his face lit by the reflections off the water. His arms surrounded her and lifted her up. It felt as if her body was awakening from a long sleep.

  "Ivy." His mouth formed her name against her throat, then he sought her mouth and kissed her with unbearable sweetness.

  The kiss was Tristan's. Ivy knew it, even if Guy did not. She longed to hold and be held by him. She reveled in the way he brushed her wet hair from her face.

  When he kissed her ears and the tip of her nose, she laughed at his playfulness, sure that she felt Tristan's joy in Guy's touch.

  Tristan, I love you, she thought. I'll love you always.

  Twenty one

  IVY JOINED BETH AND AUNT CINDY AT CHURCH ON Sunday. With a shorthanded staff, Will told them he would stay at the inn. Through Beth, he had sent a message saying that he was gathering what they needed for the bonfire that evening.

  Ever loyal and always thoughtful Will—was he proving it to her? Ivy chided herself for that thought. He had been through so much with her; he, too, needed this closure.

  Maggie and Andrew waited till late afternoon to call, knowing that Ivy would be working most of the day. Now, with all but two couples checked out of the inn, she had the long front porch to herself and sat alone, gazing at the blue horizon, talking to them on the phone. About ten minutes later, Philip called her from his tree house.

  "Lacey visited me this morning," he said.

  "She did?"

  "In church." Philip giggled. "She started tickling me."

  "That sounds like Lacey."

  "It was in the middle of Reverend Heap's sermon."

  "That really sounds like Lacey."

  "He gave me a look," Philip went on, "then one of the old ladies who takes care of the flowers started pointing at me and saying 'an angel, an angel!'" Ivy laughed. "She could see Lacey's shimmer."

  "Then she's a believer," Ivy said. "But other people, like Reverend Heap, could only see me. Mom turned really red."

  "How about Andrew—Dad?" Ivy added, shifting to the name that Philip used.

  "He thought it was pretty funny. Anyway, Lacey said she was just checking in because we both missed Tristan. I still miss Tristan." Ivy got a lump in her throat.

  "Mom, Dad, and I looked at pictures of him when we got home."

  "Good idea," Ivy said, wiping away a tear. "I think I'll do the same." After Philip signed off, Ivy stared at her cell phone for a long time, debating whether to call Guy. Today of all days, she wanted to hear his voice.

  On the wicker table next to Ivy sat a jug filled with bright pink roses, freshly cut from Aunt Cindy's garden. The scent of them carried Ivy back to the last night she and Tristan had together. He had brought her a bouquet of lavender roses.

  To Ivy, their unusual color symbolized a once in a lifetime love. And they reminded her of water— water at dawn, water at sunset, the water that gave earthbound Tristan his wings. Tristan, are you with me?

  It was crazy, she told herself, believing Tristan had come back to her. It was unfair to Guy, seeing someone else in him. And yet, the feeling was so strong.

  Tristan, are you there? The phone rang. Ivy listened to the ringtone for a full minute before answering. "Hi."

  "Hey, it's me," Guy said. "I was afraid you weren't going to pick up."

  "I was . . . thinking about things," she said. "What're you doing?"

  "Hacking at tree stumps. And you? Besides all that thinking, I mean."

  "When the weekenders leave we have a lot of cleanup. I did that and went to church, and talked to my family."

  "What's wrong?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Your voice," Guy said. "There's something wrong." Ivy fought back her tears.

  "Ivy? Ivy; are you there?" he asked, in response to her long silence.

  "Hold on."

  She dug into her pockets for tissue. "Are you okay? Ivy, talk to me!"

  "I'm okay." She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  "All right. You don't have to say anything," he told her. "Just don't hang up on me."

  "I won't." Finally regaining her composure. Ivy said, "I'm here."

  "What's going on?" Guy asked.

  "Today ... today is June twenty fifth."

  "Which is a special day," he replied. Did he know that or was he just guessing?

  "Yes, Tristan's anniversary," Ivy said aloud. "He died one year ago today."

  Guy didn't respond right away. "I'm sorry. What can I do to help? Do you want me to come over? Do you want to come here? Would you rather be alone?"

  "Will, Beth, and I are going to have a bonfire at Race Point. Tristan was a terrific swimmer, a racer."

  "Then I think he would be happy to be remembered that way."

  "Would you come?" she asked suddenly. "Please?" Guy hesitated.

  "Um ... Sure," he said. "I'll meet you there. What time?"

  "Around eight." After their conversation, Ivy went for a long walk.

  A little after six, she returned to the cottage to change into jeans and found Dhanya sitting on the swing. "How's it going?" Dhanya asked.

  "Okay. Thanks."

  "Will told Kelsey and me about the bonfire. He invited us." Ivy was taken aback.

  "It's not a party."

  "It's a wake," Kelsey said, emerging from the cottage carrying a long slice of pizza that flopped over the edge of her paper plate. "And wakes are parties for the dead, the best way to honor the dearly departed."

  "His name is Tristan," Ivy replied, and headed inside. She was angry. Why would Will think she'd like to have Dhanya and Kelsey along? But then, she had invited Guy, and Will would be just as unhappy about her invitation. Be fair, she told herself.

  A half hour later, after Will piled firewood, shovels, and a cooler in the trunk of his car. Ivy climbed in the backseat and Beth in the front. Kelsey and Dhanya followed Will in Kelsey's Jeep.

  During the thirty mile trip. Ivy kept waiting for the right moment to tell them that Guy was coming, but couldn't
find an opening. Both Beth and Will were quiet.

  It occurred to Ivy that Will had invited the other girls as a buffer, to keep things from getting too intense. When the two cars arrived at the parking lot, Kelsey offered to drag the wheeled cooler across the dunes. Will carried the logs and Ivy the kindling. Beth picked up the beach towels and an armful of purple salvia that she had cut from Aunt Cindy's garden. Ivy entrusted Dhanya with the photo album she had brought.

  Large dunes separated the lot from the beach and they walked in slow procession along the main path between the dunes. Ivy liked the effort of walking in the deep sand; the ocean breeze was cool, but the sand felt warm beneath her feet.

  Ivy and Will dug the fire pit. Beth sat on a beach blanket holding the album that Dhanya had set down. Kelsey immediately plundered the ice chest, only to discover that no alcohol had been packed.

  She and Dhanya played in the shallow foam of the ocean, laughing and splashing each other. When the pit was dug. Will placed the logs and arranged the kindling. Ivy gazed out at the indigo water. Race Point Beach lay along the northern edge of the National Seashore, where the Cape's long finger curled back toward the mainland. The bend in the beach, like the bend in the horizon, made Ivy feel as if she was standing on a ledge between two worlds. The world she had always known was glowing in the west, gold and rose colored.

  But another world of mauve and starlight like the one on the night Tristan had kissed her, hung in the east She felt caught between. When the fire was roaring, Kelsey and Dhanya joined the others around it.

  "Are we going to sing songs?" Kelsey asked as everyone sat down.

  "We're sharing memories of Tristan," Will answered quietly, "talking about the kind of person he was and the things he did."

  "That's kind of depressing, isn't it?" Kelsey said, then her face brightened as she looked toward the dunes "Oh, hello!" Everyone turned to follow her gaze. Guy was walking toward them.

  "I got here as soon as I could," he said when he was close.

  "Who invited you?" Will demanded.