Ivy sat at the kitchen table glancing over legal forms that she had just pulled out of a manila envelopePhilip's adoption papers. Across from her, her brother and his best friend Sammy dug spoons into a peanut butter jar.
Sammy was a short, funny-looking kid whose hair stood straight up from his head like bristly red grass. Ivy saw him eyeing her. He nudged Philip. "Ask her. Ask her."
"Ask me what?"
"Sammy wants to meet Tristan," Philip said. "But I can't get him to come.
Do you know where he is?"
Ivy instinctively glanced over her shoulder, but Philip assured her, "It's okay. Mom's upstairs, and Gregory likes to hear about angels now."
"He does?" Ivy asked with surprise.
Philip nodded.
"I really want to see an angel," Sammy said, pulling a little camera out of his grubby school pack.
Ivy smiled. "I think Tristan's resting now," she said, then she turned to Philip. "What kind of angel things have you and Gregory been talking about?"
"He asked me about Tristan."
"What exactly did he want to know?" Ivy asked.
She had suspected that the train incident haunted Gregory. After all, there was no way Philip could have gotten to the station that quickly without help from someone. Did Gregory guess that he was up against more than herself, more than just a person?
"He asked me what Tristan looked like," Philip told her. "And how I know when he's there."
"And how to get him to come," Sammy said. "Remember, he asked that."
"He wanted to know if you ever talked to Tristan," Philip added.
Ivy tapped the manila envelope against the table. "When did you talk about all this?"
"Last night," her brother replied, "when we were playing in the tree house."
Ivy frowned. She didn't like the idea of Gregory's playing with Philip up in the tree house, where one accident had already occurred during the summer.
She glanced down at the adoption forms. Andrew hadn't told Gregory that he was about to make Philip his legal son. Ivy wondered if Andrew had the same kind of fears that she did.
"When will Tristan be finished with his nap?" Sammy asked.
"I don't really know," Ivy replied.
"I have a flashlight, in case I see him at night," he told her.
"Good idea," Ivy said with a smile. She watched as the two boys licked the last bit of peanut butter off their spoons and ran outside.
Since Saturday night, she too had been trying to reach Tristan. Rumors about the party were flying at school. Gregory and she had managed to avoid each other in the halls. So had she and Suzanne, but while Gregory slipped past Ivy, Suzanne dramatically played out each snub. Her anger at Ivy was obvious to everyone.
Ivy was relieved when Beth had told her that Gregory and Suzanne were going to the football game that afternoon. Having slept little in the past two nights, she could finally rest, knowing that Gregory wouldn't walk in on her. Even though she locked her bedroom door now, she never really felt safe.
Ivy slipped the envelope and forms in her stack of schoolbooks and was about to head upstairs when she heard a car pull up behind the house. It sounded like Gregory's BMW. Her first instinct was to rush up to her room, but she didn't want Gregory to think she was afraid of him. Sitting back down, she opened the newspaper and hunched over the table, pretending to read. The kitchen door was pushed open, band instantly Ivy smelled the perfume. "Suzanne."
Suzanne responded with a sullen look.
"Hi," Gregory said. His tone of voice was neither warm nor cold, and his face was expressionless-though ready to flash into a smile if anyone else happened to walk into the kitchen. Suzanne continued to look at Ivy with pouting lips.
"This is a surprise," Ivy said. "Beth said you were going to the football game."
"Suzanne was bored, and I had to pick up something," Gregory told her. He turned his back to Ivy, reached into the cupboard, and pulled out a tall copper cup. "Would you get her a drink?" he asked, handing Ivy the cup.
"Sure." Gregory exited the kitchen quickly.
Ivy checked the refrigerator for sodas. "Sorry, no cold ones," she told Suzanne.
Suzanne remained silent.
Except you, Ivy said to herself, then reached under the counter for a bottle. She wondered why Gregory would leave them alone to talk. Perhaps he was standing outside the kitchen door, waiting to hear what she would say. Maybe this was a test to see if she'd tell Suzanne what she knew about him.
"How are you doing?" Ivy asked.
"Fine."
A one-word answer, but it was a start. Ivy dropped some ice cubes into the soda and handed it to Suzanne. "At school a lot of kids were talking about your party. Everyone had a good time."
"Downstairs and upstairs," Suzanne replied.
Ivy remained silent.
"How bad was your hangover?" Suzanne asked.
"I didn't have one," Ivy told her.
"Oh, that's right, you got rid of all the booze in you."
Ivy bit her lip.
"I couldn't sleep in my room Saturday night," Suzanne said, and walked around the kitchen, swirling the drink in her cup.
"I'm sorry about that, Suzanne. I really am. But the truth is, I didn't have anything to drink," Ivy said firmly.
"I want to believe you." Suzanne's lip trembled. "I want you and Gregory to tell me I dreamed it all."
"You know he won't. And I won't, either."
Suzanne nodded and dropped her chin. "I know everybody cries when they break up with a guy. But I never thought I'd get out the tissues because I was splitting up with you."
"You've known me longer than any of your guys," Ivy replied quickly. "You trusted me for ten years. Then one guy says something, and you don't."
"I saw you with my own eyes!"
"What did you see?" Ivy almost shouted. "You saw what he wanted you to see, what he told you to see.
How can I convince you-" "You can stop fooling around with my boyfriend, that's how! You can keep your hot little hands where they belong!" Suzanne took a large gulp of her drink. "You're making a fool of yourself, Ivy, and you're doing it at my expense."
"Suzanne, why can't you admit that it's at least possible that Gregory was coming on to me?"
"Liar," Suzanne said. "I'll never trust you again." She took another angry gulp of soda, leaving a print of her lipstick on the shiny metal.
"I warned you, Ivy. But you didn't listen to me. You didn't care enough to."
"I care about you more than you realize," Ivy said, taking a step toward Suzanne.
Suzanne turned on her heel. "Tell Gregory I'm on the patio," she said as she walked out the kitchen door.
Ivy let her friend go. It's useless, she thought. He's poisoned Suzanne's mind. Fighting back the tears, Ivy rushed out of the kitchen toward the stairs. She ran headlong into Gregory and pushed past him. She didn't bother telling him where Suzanne had gone. She was sure he had been listening to every word.
Ivy didn't pause to catch her breath until she reached her music room.
She slammed the door closed behind her and leaned against it. Keep cool, keep cool, she said to herself.
But she couldn't stop shaking. She had lost all hope that she could win against Gregory. She needed help, needed someone to assure her that things would get better. She remembered the day Will had driven her back to the train station, how he had believed in her and given her the confidence to believe in herself.
"I'll find Will," she said aloud, then turned toward the door and was surprised to see the shimmering gold light. "Tristan!"
His gold light surrounded her. "Yes, Tristan," he said, within her now.
"Are you all right? Where have you been?" Ivy asked silently. "You were gone so long this time. A lot has happened since you fell into the darkness."
"I know," Tristan replied. "Will and Lacey filled me in."
"Did they tell you about Suzanne? She thinks- she believes whatever Gregory says, and she hates me now, she-" The flood of tears
was uncontrollable.
"Shhh. Ivy, shhh. I know about Suzanne," Tristan told her. "And I'm sorry, but you have to forget about her right now. There are a lot more import-" "Forget about her?" The tears became furious ones, and Ivy spoke out loud. "He wants to hurt me any and every way he can!"
"Ivy, speak silently," Tristan reminded her quickly. "I know this is hard for you-" "You don't know! You don't understand how I feel," Ivy said, sitting down at the piano. She ran her finger sharply up the keyboard.
"Listen to me, Ivy. I found out something you have to know."
"I can't keep losing people," she said.
"There's something I want to tell you about," Tristan persisted.
"First I lost you, now Suzanne, and-" "Will," he said.
"Will?" The tone of Tristan's voice, low and firm, alarmed her. "What about Will?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"You can't trust him."
"But I do trust him," Ivy replied, determined not to be persuaded otherwise.
"I just came from searching his house," Tristan told her.
"Searching?"
"And I found some pretty interesting things there," he added.
"Like what?" she demanded.
"Books about angels. A tracing of Caroline's key."
"Well, what do you expect?" Ivy asked. "Of course he's read about angels.
He's trying to understand exactly what you are and why you've come back.
And we already knew he was curious enough to look in the envelope that contained the key. I would have done the same thing if I were him," she added defensively.
"There was also a copy of Beth's story," Tristan said. "The one about the woman who committed suicide, the one she recited for your drama club assignment the month before Caroline died. Do you remember it?"
Ivy nodded slowly. "The woman tore up photographs of her lover and his new sweetheart, leaving them like a suicide note when she shot herself."
"Just as Caroline supposedly tore up photos of Andrew and your mother," Tristan said.
Once before Ivy had thought about the similarity between Beth's story and the setup the police had found at Caroline's house. She had assumed it was another example of the uncanny way Beth anticipated events, but now she realized that Gregory could have borrowed the idea from Beth.
"And there's a clipping of the story about the girl in Ridgefield," Tristan went on. "The one who was attacked right after you were, in the exact same way. It worked, didn't it? The style of attack convinced everyone that it was part of a series of crimes by someone who didn't know you."
Ivy dropped her head in her hands, thinking about the girl.
"So what are you saying?" she asked at last. "That Will has figured out a lot more than we thought? I'm glad. I wanted to protect him, but now there's no reason to hold anything back."
"But there is a reason," Tristan replied quickly. "Will has something else. The jacket and cap."
Ivy sat up straight. How had he gotten the clothes? Did he know they were important evidence? Why hadn't he told her?
"Oh, he knows they're important," Tristan answered her thoughts. "They were wrapped carefully in plastic bags and hidden with everything else."
"But I never told him what I saw. I never told him what tempted me to cross the tracks, and that story wasn't released to the papers."
"So either he was in on it-" "No!" said Ivy.
"— or he's somehow figured it out. Maybe Eric told him something. In any case, he knows a lot more than he's telling either of us."
Ivy remembered the day at the station when they had caught Eric searching the drainage ditch by the side of the road. Will must have already found the cap and jacket. He was faking it in front of Eric-and her.
She stood up abruptly, pushing back the piano bench.
"Ivy?"
She mentally pushed Tristan away and walked over to the window. Dropping down on her knees, Ivy rested her arms and chin on the windowsill.
"Ivy, talk to me. Don't push me away."
"He's just trying to help us," Ivy said. "I'm sure it's nothing more than that."
"How can he be helping when he's hiding things from us?"
"Because he thinks that's what's best," she replied, though she knew it didn't make sense. "I know him. I trust him."
"Suzanne trusts Gregory," Tristan pointed out.
"It's not the same!" Ivy cried, thrusting Tristan out of her mind together. "It's not the same!"
She had cried out loud, and for a moment she thought she heard her own voice reverberating in the room. Then she realized the shouting came from below. Suzanne was calling out. Ivy heard Gregory's voice drowning out Suzanne's. She rushed down to her bedroom and raced across the second-floor hall to the back set of steps. Suzanne was hurrying up the narrow stair, her long black hair fanning out behind her, her face pale and glistening with perspiration. She clutched the copper cup in which Ivy had fixed her soda.
Gregory trailed her. "Suzanne," he said, "give Ivy a chance to explain."
Suzanne threw back her head and laughed wildly, so wildly she almost fell backward down the stair. Then she looked at Ivy, and Ivy knew something was terribly wrong.
"I can't wait," Suzanne said. "I can't wait to see how she explains this one."
Suzanne shoved the soda toward Ivy, forcing her to take the cup in her hands. Then she uncurled her left fist. In the damp palm of her friend's hand, Ivy saw a round orange pill. Ivy glanced quickly at Gregory, then back at the tablet.
"What is it?" Suzanne asked. "Tell me, what did I find in my drink?"
"It looks like a vitamin," Ivy said cautiously.
"A vitamin!" Suzanne shrieked with laughter, but Ivy saw the tears in her friend's eyes. "That's good," Suzanne sputtered. "A vitamin. What were you going to do, Ivy? Send me on a nice trip like Eric's? You're crazy.
You're a screwed-up, crazy, jealous witch." She dropped the orange tablet in the soda. "Here, let's put the vitamin back. Now you drink it, drink all of it."
Ivy stared down at the copper-colored cup. She knew that Gregory had set her up, and she figured it was harmless, but she couldn't take the chance.
"Swallow it," Suzanne said, tears running down her face. "Swallow the vitamin."
Ivy put her hand over the top of the cup and shook her head. She saw Suzanne's mouth jerk.
Suzanne turned, ducked under Gregory's arms, and ran down to the first floor. Gregory followed her. Ivy sank down on the steps and dropped her head to her knees. She didn't try to hide the tears, though she knew that Gregory paused to look over his shoulder, enjoying the view.
Chapter 13
Tristan thought that warning Ivy about Will would have made him feel good. After all, his suspicions were right. Will was not admitting to them what he knew, and he wasn't telling them how he knew it. Now Ivy could trust only Tristan. He should have felt smart and victorious-at least satisfied. He didn't. No matter how much they needed and loved each other, he and Ivy stood on either side of an un crossable river.
Monday evening the world seemed grayer, chillier to him. He stood outside of Caroline's dark house and felt the autumn coming on like a creature who has no home. When Tristan slipped through the walls, he felt like an intruder, a ghost who haunted, not an angel who helped those he loved. He longed to be with Ivy, but he didn't dare go to her now. He knew the information about Will had hurt and angered her. Now that he had told her, what could Tristan say to make things better?
"Tristan?"
He looked around, surprised.
"Tristan?"
He wanted so much to hear Ivy's voice that he thought he did.
"Are you in there?" she called. "Let me in."
Tristan hurried to the door, focusing quickly in order to materialize his fingers. They kept slipping on the latch as he struggled to undo it. He wondered if it looked strange to Ivy when the door of the darkened house swung slowly in on its hinges.
She stepped inside and stopped just within the moonlit rectangle made by the gaping d
oor. In the silver light her hair shimmered, and her skin looked as pale as an apparition's. For a moment Tristan believed something terrible and wonderful had happened, and she had come to him as a spirit like himself. But then he saw how she turned toward him, her eyes full of love but unfocused, the way eyes see a glow, but not the features of a face.
"I love you." They shared that thought, and he moved easily inside her mind.
"I'm sorry, Tristan," she said softly. "I'm sorry I pushed you out like that."
He was so glad to be with her, so glad she had come to him, he couldn't speak for a moment. "I know I hurt you when I told you about Will," he said at last.
She gave a little shrug and closed the door behind them. "You had to tell me the truth."
Tristan knew from the small shrug that the news still upset her. I should make her talk about it, he thought. I should remind her that she'll fall in love again, there will be someone else she'll love one day-"I love you, Tristan," Ivy said. "Please, no matter what happens, promise you won't forget that."
Another time. They could talk about the future another time.
"Are you listening?" Ivy asked. "I know you're there. You're cloaking, Tristan. Are you angry?"
"I'm wondering," he said. "How did you know to come here?"
He felt the smile on her lips. "I'm not sure," she said. "I guess I just needed to see you so badly, and after this afternoon, I didn't think you'd come when I called. I figured it was up to me to find you. I got in the car and drove, and here's where I ended up."
He laughed. "Here's where you ended up. After all this is over, you and Beth are going to have to open a shop-Palms, Tea Leaves, and Telepathy."
"You could join us for seances," Ivy suggested. Her smile warmed him through.
"Lyons, Van Dyke, and Spirit. Sounds good," he said, but he knew that when his mission was over he wouldn't come back. None of the angels Lacey had known ever returned.
Ivy was still smiling as she walked around Caroline's kitchen. He saw through her eyes as they slowly adjusted to the dark. "It looks as if you've been searching the house," she said, observing the open bkitchen drawers and cabinet doors that hung ajar.
"Lacey and I searched here back in August, long before you got the key, but we didn't leave the place like this," he replied. "Someone else has been here since."
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