ʺHang on, Izzy!ʺ
Guy pushed the chair toward the front door so fast Ivy thought they were going to crash into the plate glass. ʺWhoa!ʺ she cried as the glass slid back just in time and they shot through the opening. They flew past another occupied chair, across the concrete plaza, and onto the asphalt. ʺWait, wait!ʺ Ivy cried.
ʺCanʹt wait. Which way?ʺ Guy shouted back. She pointed. He ran and pushed like a madman, dodging between two pars, then hanging a left, making her shut her eyes and cling to the chair arms.
ʺSlow down, you crazy thing!ʺ But she was laughing now and he was, too, as they flew past a long row of cars to the end of the lot.
ʺThe white cap she yelled. ʺBrake! Brake!ʺ He did — and nearly dumped her onto the trunk of the VW. Breathless, leaping from the chair. Ivy unlocked the car with two clicks. Slipping into the driverʹs seat, she tossed her release papers and purse in the back. Guy left the wheelchair on a patch of grass and hopped into the car.
They drove away, laughing, the windows down and the wind in their hair.
ʺISABEL?ʺ IVY SAID WHEN THEY HAD STOPPED FOR A traffic light. ʺIs that what I look like to you?ʺ
Guy peeked sideways at her. ʺIt seemed like a good name for a sister.ʺ
Ivy drove on. Common sense would dictate that she take Route 28, a road with lots of beach traffic and people around, in case he wasnʹt trustworthy. Instead, succumbing to instinct — or insanity — she chose Route 6, a highway that ran the spine of Cape Cod and would quickly put distance between them and the hospital.
ʺSo, whatʹs your name?ʺ he asked. ʺIvy.ʺ
ʺIvy. Izzy — I wasnʹt too far off. But Ivy is better for a girlfriend.ʺ
She didnʹt reply, telling herself that he wasnʹt flirting, and more important, that she didnʹt want him to. ʺWhere are we going. Ivy?ʺ ʺI havenʹt decided. It looks as if Andy cleaned you up pretty well.ʺ
ʺAre you saying I looked raunchy?ʺ he replied, then his demeanor softened. ʺI donʹt know what I would have done without Andy.ʺ Ivy sighed. ʺI feel so guilty!
“I hope we donʹt get him in trouble.”
There was a long silence. ʺWell, nothing we can do about it now,ʺ she said, glancing toward Guy. ʺThose Nikes have seen better days.ʺ
He lifted one foot and pulled back the shoe’s rubber sole, grinning at her.
ʺIʹm taking the Dennis exit. Weʹre getting you new shoes and a shirt.ʺ
ʺWe are? Are you any good at shoplifting?ʺ he asked. ʺIʹm buying,ʺ she replied.
ʺNo,ʺ he said quickly. ʺYes,ʺ she insisted. ʺIvy, no. I donʹt want you to do anything more for me.ʺ Was this some kind of pride thing? she wondered. ʺWhat are you going to do about it?ʺ she asked aloud. ʺOpen the car door and get out? Iʹm going sixty.ʺ
ʺSeventy,ʺ he corrected. She glanced at the speedometer and slowed down.
Another long silence followed. She knew what he needed — his family, friends, and memories — but all she had to offer were things that money could buy.
ʺDo you remember anything?ʺ she asked. ʺLike whether you live on Cape Cod or were just visiting?ʺ
ʺI live here.ʺ His initial moment of hesitation tipped her off. ʺI see. That’ s why you thought Providence was the next town over, rather than the capital of Rhode Island.”
Guy took a deep breath and let it out, as if she were trying his patience. ʺItʹs like this. Some things — names, a person, an object, even a smell— seem familiar, but I donʹt know how or why. As soon as I try to focus on what seems familiar, it slips away.ʺ ʺThatʹs hard.ʺ She heard Guy turn in his seat and was aware of him studying her; she kept her eyes on the road. ʺWas it like that for you?ʺ he asked.
ʺYes — and no. I couldnʹt recall the crash, but I knew who I was when I woke up.
And I knew what I had lost.ʺ
ʺWhich was?ʺ he asked. She didnʹt answer. ʺHereʹs our exit.” Ivy drove a half mile along a two‐lane road bordered by a mix of deciduous trees and scrub pine, then turned into a lot serving a small strip of stores, where she and her mother had stopped a few days before. Between the shops of Wicker & Wood and Everything Cranberry was a store that sold sportswear. Ivy parked at the sandy edge of the lot, where the trees provided shade. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, she turned to Guy. ʺWhat do you think youʹll need to get by for a while?ʺ
ʺI donʹt need anything from anyone.ʺ ʺA shirt, sweatshirt, and shorts,ʺ she went on, ʺsocks, shoes, underwear… a towel. What else?ʺ He stared straight ahead, his fists in his lap. Ivy reached for her purse in the back of the car. ʺListen, I know this doesnʹt solve any of the larger challenges youʹre facing, but itʹs a start.”
Guy exploded. ʺMy larger challenges? You talk like a freaking psychiatrist!ʺ
ʺWould you prefer that I call them unsolvable problems?ʺ
ʺWouldnʹt that be more honest?ʹʹ
ʺOnly if you think theyʹre unsolvable,ʺ she said. ʺNext youʹll be lecturing me on the twelve‐step program. Step one: admit you have a problem.ʺ
ʺThatʹs a good beginning,ʺ she replied. He grimaced. ʺNot just the admitting part. It tells us that somehow you know about substance abuse programs. If s a clue.ʺ
ʺA clue telling me what?ʺ he asked incredulously. ʺThat my father was an alcoholic? That my brother — or was it my friends, or was it my mother — did drugs? Maybe I did! Or maybe this clue tells me simply that AA made a presentation at my school and I happened to be listening that day. It tells me nothing!ʺ
Ivy struggled to remain patient. ʺObviously, one puzzle piece has no significance in itself. But once you start putting it together with other pieces, it will make a picture. Pay attention when you suddenly come up with a puzzle piece — donʹt push it off the table in a rage.ʺ She dropped her keys in her purse.
ʺAre you coming?ʺ
ʺNo:ʺ
ʺDonʹt make such a big deal out of it — you can pay me back later. In the meantime, you canʹt go without a shirt and decent shoes.ʺ She waited thirty seconds longer, then got out of the car.
He poked his head out the window. ʺNice outfit,ʺ he called to her. Ivy glanced down — the bathrobe! She started to laugh. ʺHey, itʹs my beach wrap.ʺ
Using Willʹs sizes as a guide, Ivy flipped through the brightly colored T‐shirts and cotton shorts. Guy was scared, she thought; anyone whoʹd leave the hospital — a roof, a bed, and food — when he had no other place to go was very afraid of something.
His bouts of anger came from his fear and his hurt pride. If Will were in this situation, would he act this way? She wasnʹt sure, but Tristan had had that kind of pride.
Ivy added to her list of purchases a large backpack, a pair of cargo pants, sunglasses, and a second towel. At the checkout counter she used her debit card, asking for cash back. Then she stuffed the money, the receipt, and other items in the pack.
Emerging from the store, she walked slowly toward the car, mulling over the situation. When she looked up, she couldnʹt believe it — Guy was gone. She looked around quickly, as if he might have gotten out of the car to stretch his legs, but he had disappeared. She gazed into the green shade of the woods that bordered the parking lot. His escape route — to where? Guy himself probably had no idea.
He had left her T‐shirt on the car seat. Ridiculous, stupid pride! Taking a pen from her purse, she wrote the name ʺGuyʺ on the backpack, then picked up the pack, and with all her strength, flung it toward the trees. Afterward, she drove to Nauset Light Beach, where she ran through the pounding surf until she was exhausted, wishing her jumbled emotions could drain into the sea.
“YOU COULD HAVE CALLED,” WILL SAID TWO HOURS later. ʺYou shouldʹve had your phone on. You had us worried.ʺ
He was working next to the large garden between the cottage and inn, sanding an old bookcase heʹd found among Aunt Cindyʹs stash of furniture. Beth sat nearby in an Adirondack chair, a book opened facedown on the chairʹs flat arm.
ʺI told you I was fine,ʺ Ivy replied. ʺYour appointment was hours ago. I thought something was wrong?”
Ivy removed her shoes and shook the sand out of them. ʺI went to the beach.ʺ
Willʹs mouth held a straight line and the muscles in his forearms shone with sweat as he sanded furiously. Beth looked from him to Ivy, then back to him.