He was silent for a moment. “Is there a knocker?”
“No.” Her mind raced—or was it her heart? She wished she could think of a clever line to turn him away. She wished he didn’t make her ache inside.
“Maybe there are some magic words?” he said.
Ivy didn’t reply. Will backed up in the grass, trying to see into the tree house. She lifted her head and looked down over the edge at him.
“If there are magic words, Ivy, I sure wish you’d tell me what they are, because I’ve been wondering for a long time, and I’m just about ready to give up.”
Ivy bit her lip.
“You know,” Will continued, “when two people narrowly escape falling to their deaths, they usually have something to talk about. Even if they hadn’t met before that moment, they usually have something to say to each other afterward. But you haven’t said anything to me. I’ve been trying to give you some time. I’ve been trying to give you some space. All I want is—”
“Thank you,” Ivy said. “Thank you for risking your life. Thank you for saving me.”
“That’s not what I wanted!” Will replied angrily. “Gratitude is the last thing I—”
“Well, let me tell you what I want,” Ivy shouted down at him. “Honesty.”
Will looked up with a bewildered expression. “When haven’t I been honest?” he asked. It was as if he had totally forgotten about the blackmail. “When?”
“I found your note, Will. I know you blackmailed Gregory. I didn’t tell the police yet, but I will.”
He frowned. “So tell them,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “Go ahead! It’s old news to them, but if you’ve got the note, it’s one more piece for the police files. I just don’t get—” He started walking away from the tree house, then stopped. “Wait a minute. Do you think—You couldn’t really think I did that to make money, could you?”
“That’s usually why people blackmail.”
“You think I’d betray you like that?” he asked incredulously. “Ivy, I set up that blackmail—I got the Celentanos to help me out, and I videotaped it—so that I had something to take to the police.”
Ivy sat up and moved closer to the edge of the platform.
“Back in August,” Will said, “when you were in the hospital, Gregory called and told me you had tried to commit suicide. I couldn’t believe it. I knew how much you missed Tristan, but I knew you were a fighter, too. I went to the train station that morning to look around and try to figure out what had gone through your head. As I was leaving I found the jacket and hat. I picked them up, but for weeks I didn’t know how or even if they were connected to what had happened.”
Will paced around, bending over and picking up small sticks, breaking them in his hands.
“When school started,” he said, “I ran across some file photos of Tristan in the newspaper office. Suddenly I figured it out. I knew it wasn’t like you to jump in front of a train, but it was just like Eric and Gregory to con you across the track. I remembered how Eric had played chicken with us, and I blamed him at first. Later I realized that there was a lot more than a game going on.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Ivy asked. “You should have told me this before.”
“You weren’t telling me things, either,” he reminded her.
“I was trying to protect you,” she explained.
“What the heck do you think I was doing?” He threw down the sticks. “I figured that Eric died because he was going to spill the beans. I didn’t know why Gregory wanted to kill you, but I figured if he’d murder his best friend, he’d go after you no matter what the risk. I had to distract him, give him another target, and try to get something on him at the same time. It almost worked. I gave the tape to Lieutenant Donnelly Tuesday afternoon, but Gregory had already laid his trap.”
He paused, and Ivy moved to the very edge of the platform, dropping her legs over the side, hanging on tightly to the rope that dangled next to her.
“You thought I’d betray you,” Will said, his voice sounding hollow and incredulous.
“Will, I’m sorry.” She knew from his tone that she had hurt him deeply. “I was wrong. I really am sorry,” she said, but he was walking away from her.
“I made a mistake. A big one,” she called after him. “Try to understand. I was so mixed up and afraid. I thought I had betrayed myself when I trusted you—and betrayed Tristan when I fell in love with you. Will!”
Grasping the rope, she dropped over the side, then swung free of the tree house. But Will had turned back a moment before. She landed on top of him, and they rolled together to the ground.
They lay there for a moment in a heap, Ivy on top of Will, neither of them moving.
“Nice catch,” Ivy said. She was trying to laugh, but all she could do was tremble. She was so afraid he’d get up, dust himself off, and walk away. Why shouldn’t he?
“You fell in Love with me?” Will asked.
She looked into his deep brown eyes, eyes that shimmered with hidden light, then she saw a smile spreading across his face. His arms encircled her, and she relaxed against him, her face close to his. “Love you, Will,” she said softly.
“Love you, Ivy.” He held her close and rocked her a little. “You know,” he said, “it’s a good thing this didn’t happen before. If I had known how heavy you were, I would never have reached for you.”
“What?”
“Without an angel around, I’d have been a goner,” he said.
Ivy pulled herself up abruptly.
Will laughed. “Okay, okay, that was a lie. But this is the truth. The angels will swear to it,” he said, then pulled her down for a kiss.
about the author
a former high school and college teacher with a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Rochester, ELIZABETH CHANDLER now writes full time and enjoys visiting schools to talk about the process of creating books. She has written numerous picture books for children under her real name, Mary Claire Helldorfer, as well as romances for teens under her pen name, Elizabeth Chandler. Her romance novels include Hot Summer Nights, Love Happens, At First Sight, I Do, and the romantic suspense trilogy Dark Secrets published by Archway Paperbacks.
When not writing, Mary Claire enjoys biking, gardening, watching sports, and daydreaming. She has been a die-hard Oriole fan since she was a kid and a daydreamer for just as long. Mary Claire lives in Baltimore with her husband, Bob, and their cat, Puck.
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Francine Pascal’s FEARLESS
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Prue, Piper, and Phoebe Halliwell didn’t think the magical incantation would really work. But it did.
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