Beth’s face revealed her disappointment, but she smiled and nodded. “Oh well.
Thanks for asking.”
A waitress approached them and broke into a smile. “Hey, Chase, long time no see. Back for the summer?”
Chase stretched and let one hand fall to rest on Beth’s chair. “Back until the wind blows me another way.”
Will pursed his lips as if to make a whistling sound, but the ʺwindʺ never blew, because Ivy gave him a swift kick. ʺDouble dip, strawberry and chocolate,ʺ she said to the waitress. ʺHow about you, Beth?ʺ
The order came quickly, but it turned out to be the longest ice‐cream date Ivy had ever endured. One of the things that she loved about Will was that — not counting tonight — he had always been inclusive with her friends and family.
When he and Ivy were with others, he enjoyed the people Ivy enjoyed. But Chase was the opposite, the kind of guy who isolated a girl with his attention.
Even so, Beth seemed taken with him, and Ivy did her best to keep Will from expressing his opinion after they left the ice‐cream parlor. As soon as Beth climbed in the backseat of Ivyʹs car, Ivy turned to him. ʺNo comments,ʺ she told him quietly. ʺYouʹre not the one who wants to date him.ʺ ʺDam right!ʺ he said, and they both laughed. When they arrived back at the innʹs lot. Ivy and Beth were surprised to see Kelseyʹs red Jeep. They found Dhanya in the kitchen, munching on saltines. ʺI asked Kelsey to bring me home,ʺ Dhanya explained.
ʺShe went back out with the guys.”
guys.ʺ
Beth sat down at the table and pulled three crackers out of the plastic sleeve. ʺIs your headache making your stomach queasy?ʺ
Dhanya nodded and chewed slowly.
ʺThatʹs how I felt earlier,ʺ Beth said. ʺKind of dizzy, too.ʺ
ʺYou want me to get Aunt Cindy?ʺ Ivy asked. ʺShe might have something in her medicine cupboard to help you.ʺ
ʺNo, sheʹll want to know where Kelsey is.ʺ
Ivy followed Beth and Dhanya up the steep Stairs from the kitchen, carrying a tray of crackers and mugs with decaf tea, placing the snacks by their beds. The cottageʹs second floor was one long room, with the steps rising next to the massive brick chimney in the center of the space. A small bathroom had been built across from the chimney.
The four beds were tucked in the four corners of the cottage, beneath the sloping roof. Bethʹs and Ivyʹs beds were to the left of the steps, Kelseyʹs and Dhanyaʹs to the right.
ʺFeels like home,ʺ Dhanya said as she pulled her iPod and earbuds out of her purse and climbed into bed. ʺThanks, Ivy.ʺ Just before Dhanya slipped in the buds, Ivy caught a snatch of the song from Aladdin, and smiled to herself, wondering if Disney was Dhanyaʹs form of retro comfort.
Beth snuggled in her own bed, pulling up a light blanket. June nights were cool on the Cape. Turning on her side, Beth reached toward the chest between her and Ivy, letting her fingers rest on the angel statue. She caught Ivy watching her and smiled a little before closing her eyes.
Ivy lay on her stomach, gazing out the low window between her bed and Bethʹs.
Last night there was a new moon, and tonight the thinnest scrape of silver hung in the sky. The scent of the Cape Cod night — salt and pine — was stronger than the pale shapes surrounding her, making the everyday objects seem less real. The love she had shared with Tristan was like that, stronger than any emotion she experienced in her everyday life, even her feelings for Will. She still ached from its intensity.
While Ivy couldnʹt admit it to anyone, she doubted sheʹd ever fully heal. For reasons she didnʹt understand, her life had been spared last summer; but she had not been spared the longing she felt for Tristan. The way Tristan had made her laugh, the way he had drawn her into his life, the way he had delighted in her music — how would she ever stop yearning for him?
Ivy wiped her wet cheek against her pillow, |then turned on her side and reached out to touch the carved stone angel. A long time after, she fell asleep.
THE NEXT MORNING, WHILE IVY, BETH, AND DHANYA dressed for work, Kelsey slept, the sheet pulled over her head, the soles of her feet poking out the other end. The girls agreed that if they didnʹt get her up, this was going to be a long summer of them working and Kelsey partying. She was dragged out of bed and made it to the innʹs kitchen at 6:33.
The girls and Will served breakfast, then cleaned rooms and laundered towels and sheets. By Sunday noon, the weekend guests had checked out and Beth and her aunt had slipped away to church in Chatham. Beth came back looking pleased with herself. ʺI found you a piano to practice on, Ivy! A baby grand!ʺ
ʺFather John said you are welcome to use the one in the church,ʺ Aunt Cindy explained. ʺJust call ahead to make sure someone can unlock the door.ʺ Will smiled at Ivy. ʺWe have a whole summer of Sunday picnics ahead of us,ʺ he said, guessing how eager she was to be playing again. ʺWe can change our afternoon plans to an evening hike by Chathamʹs lighthouse and meet at the church.ʺ
Ivy gave him a grateful hug. They finished work and, after an early supper, she rushed off with her music books.
It was already sunset inside the timbered and white interior of St. Peterʹs, with the sun glowing through the stained‐glass windows that ran along each side of the small church, coloring the walls crimson and gold. A window above the altar, pieced together in deep blues and greens, showed a boat tossed in a storm, with Jesus holding out his hand, inviting Peter to cross the waves.
Ivyʹs mother chose churches according to the minister rather than the core beliefs, so Ivy had attended a variety of them. She couldnʹt help but feel at home in this church, with angels roosting in its small side windows and an angel guarding a fisherman in the round window above the entrance. She warmed up on the piano, playing scales, centering herself with each progression, enjoying the rising and falling tide of notes. Hoping she would find a piano, she had asked her teacher for music to work on over the summer. She began with Chopin, loving the feel of the smooth keys beneath her fingers, happily focused in her effort to learn the first movement of the piano concerto.
An hour later, she stretched and stood up. Walking around the small church, she worked her shoulders. The angle of the sun had changed, and the red and gold in the windows burned like dying embers in the growing dusk of the church. Ivy sat down again and played a medley of Philipʹs favorite songs. It had been really hard to leave her little brother for the summer. She began to play a song that had become special to her and Philip, ʹTo Where You Are.ʺ Philip was sure that it had been written about Tristan. The first time Ivy had heard Philipʹs young voice singing over Josh Grobanʹs, she had cried.
Was Tristan, as the song said, just ʺa breath awayʺ? Was he still, somehow, watching over her?
Ivy had always prayed to angels, but those angels were not people whom she had actually known and loved. She glanced around at the stained‐glass windows. Catholics prayed to saints as well as angels, and saints had been everyday people. When she called out for Tristan in her dreams, was she praying to him? Or was she simply missing him?
Last summer, when Tristan returned as an angel, he had heard Ivy. And Ivy, once she began to believe again, had heard him whenever he slipped inside her mind. But once she was safe from Gregory, Tristan had left. He had told her he would love her forever, but he could not stay with her. From that time on, she couldnʹt see his glow or hear his voice in her head. Could he still hear her? Was he even aware of her existence?
ʺIf you can hear me, Tristan, this is for you.ʺ She began to play Beethovenʹs ʺMoonlight Sonata,ʺ the movement she had played for him when they were first together. At the end, she sat still for several minutes, tears running down her face.
ʺIʹm here, Ivy.ʺ She turned. ʺWill!ʺ
He was sitting in the last pew of the church. She hadnʹt heard him come in. In the deep twilight of the building, she couldnʹt see his face. He stood up slowly and walked toward her. She quickly wiped away her tears.
When he reached her, he gazed down at her with such sadness in his eyes, she had to look away. He brushed her cheek gently with his hand. ʺThat was the song you played at the arts festival,ʺ he said quietly. ʺIt was Tristanʹs song.ʺ
ʺYes.ʺ
ʺIʹm sorry that youʹre still hurting.ʺ
She nodded silently, afraid that if she spoke, her voice would shake.
ʺWhat would you like me to do?ʺ he asked, his voice breaking with emotion.
ʺLeave? Stay? I can wait outside the church until you are ready, if that would help.ʺ
ʺStay. Stay, Will. Iʹm ready to go. Come with me while I return the key to the rectory, then letʹs take our walkʺ Will stayed close to her, walking by her side to the car, but didnʹt take her hand the way he usually did, didnʹt touch her at all.
He drove silently to the parking lot at Chatham Light.
Itʹs just the anniversary, she wanted to tell him. Ifʹs just the time of year stirring up these memories. Everything will be all right. But she couldnʹt say that, because she wasnʹt sure it was true.
The sky over the ocean was dark blue, the first stars emerging in the east. In the western sky, the last splash of orange was fading fast, leaving the long spit of beach that ran south from the lighthouse painted in mauve. They walked the beach close to the water, carrying their sandals.
ʺWe got an e‐mail from Philip,ʺ Will said at last. ʺYou, Beth, and me. He wants us to look up his blog.ʺ
ʺHis blog!ʺ Ivy replied. ʺHey! Some respect, please! I read it — itʹs an insightful commentary on summer camp. I just hope the counselor he calls ʺTarantula Armsʺ doesnʹt hear about it.ʺ
Ivy laughed. ʺI guess the counselorʹs kind of hairy.ʺ