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
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