The Wishing Tree

by Marybeth Whalen

  She waved at her mom to sit down. “It’s fine, Mom, I’ve got it.” She headed for the front door. This time there was no Elliott to help with the heavy suitcase.

  “Ivy,” her mom called just as she was about to go outside.

  “Yeah, Mom?” She turned to look at her mother, who had moved into the kitchen and was wiping down the counter.

  Margot Copeland smiled at her, a real smile that said more than they’d managed to say up to that moment. “Glad you’re here. It’s nice to have both my girls home.”

  She returned the smile. “Me too, Mom. And thanks for letting me come.”

  Maybe someday she would confide in her mother. But they were a ways away from that.

  When sleep eluded her, she threw back the covers and retrieved her cell phone from her purse, checking her messages out of habit, wondering when she’d be able to stop the reflex. She no longer had a job, and after her spur-of-the-moment decision to leave Elliott, she might not have a marriage either. Other than the occasional missive from April, that didn’t leave a lot of messages to check. Her caller ID showed several missed calls from Elliott. From the call record she saw that he’d called every two hours since the moment she left.

  A flash of guilt traveled through the length of her body. Perhaps it’d been wrong to leave so impetuously. A good wife stayed and fought for her marriage. She tried to remember the moment in the church parking lot, when coming to Sunset Beach had seemed like her best alternative. She didn’t need to start questioning the resolve she’d felt then. That could only lead to doubt and waffling. Right now resolution was her best friend.

  She systematically deleted Elliott’s voicemails without listening to a single one, anger welling in her the more she thought of it. After months of silence and avoidance he suddenly decided—after she left—to pay attention to her. What about all the nights she went to bed alone? What about all the times she begged him to talk, to get off the blasted computer, to face her instead of the television? Where was he before?

  Then she thought about his cowardly approach in telling April and letting her do the dirty work for him of telling Ivy. Her anger mounted as she thought about how, in effect, he still wasn’t really owning up to what he’d done. He hadn’t had the courage to tell her the truth, face-to-face. He’s trying, April had said. As if trying was enough when really it was too little, too late. He didn’t deserve a chance to talk to her, to explain whatever it was he’d done. There were no excuses he could offer her, no rationale for his abhorrent behavior. He’d committed the unpardonable sin. He’d broken their vows.

  She hated him for what he’d done. That was all there was to it. Their love had been dying a slow, painful death for a long time. All she had done was deliver the final blow. In truth, it was a mercy killing, like putting a sick animal to sleep. She’d ended both their suffering.

  And now they could both move on.

  She held the phone in her hand and stared at it, the message blinking that told her she had no more voicemails waiting to be heard. She clicked on the icon that would take her to her waiting emails, and found, other than some work emails, several more messages from Elliott. One had “Since You Won’t Take My Calls” in the subject line. She checked the boxes to delete each one of them, not bothering to open them.

  He had some nerve. Couldn’t he take the hint? She thought about it for a moment. If she didn’t want to hear from him, she’d have to do something drastic to get her point across. Something that would show him she was serious about taking the time she needed, serious about how angry she was. She scanned the remaining emails; all were business-related, except for a few from a church committee she’d volunteered for but never made time to follow through on. What was stopping her from just deleting her email account? Cancelling her cell service and buying a prepaid phone at the Walmart in Shallotte?

  That would make a statement.

  A smile crept over her face as she made a plan to let her business contacts know of her new email, one that only a select few would even know about. And it made sense in light of the business closing anyway. No one would bat an eye over the change, or suspect a thing. No one would guess that she was deleting her email account to dodge her husband. She powered off the phone and tossed it back into her purse, her mind running through a mental list of what she would have to do tomorrow to make it all happen.

  She fell asleep debating whether this break with Elliott was temporary or permanent, reminding herself she didn’t have to decide right away. This trip was buying her time to decide, letting the answers reveal themselves in time. Beach time.

  Six

  When her parents split up in her late teens, she and Shea went with Margot to Sunset Beach “to sort everything out.” They ended up staying, the two girls splitting their time between home and the beach, their mother and their father. Margot got the Sunset Beach house in the settlement, and the family home in Charlotte was sold, with the proceeds going into an account to support Margot in the manner to which she had become accustomed. Not one to hoard her good fortune (if a divorce could ever be called that), Margot offered a portion of the money to her sister, Leah, to finally start that bakery the family had been saying she should start for as long as any of them could remember.

  A year after they arrived at Sunset, shell-shocked and uncertain about the future, Margot and Leah had stood, side by side, and smiled for the grand opening of Seaside Bakery. The local paper had covered the story and snapped the picture, which now hung, ornately framed, on the wall of the bakery, a place that stood for broken dreams making room for unexpected happiness. When Ivy woke the next morning, that was the first place she wanted to go. Both because she wanted one of her aunt’s cheese biscuits and because the bakery was a place that always made her happy.

  And she could use a good dose of happiness.

  She slipped out from the covers of the bed she’d always considered “hers.” In the early morning light she reached into her suitcase and pulled out a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt from her university days. It took one look in the mirror to determine that her hair was a disaster and she needed a baseball hat. But she hadn’t packed one. She thought for a moment and opened the closet, hoping her mom hadn’t cleared out everything that was left from the time when this room was solely hers. She smiled when she saw many of her old things still in the closet, including her favorite pair of flip-flops, still sandy. And the baseball hat she stole from Michael. With a sentimental grin, she pulled it on and looked in the mirror, wondering if she could still pass for the girl who used to wear that hat—a girl who was five years younger. A girl who would’ve never allowed herself to end up in the situation she now found herself in.

  She blamed her dad. He’d been the one to talk her into going on that stupid ski trip, after all. Take a chance, Ivy, he’d said. Life is about venturing into unknown territory. She guessed he’d take all that back now, if he could. She studied the older version of herself in the mirror and wondered if she would still take her dad’s advice. She turned away and tugged the hat down lower, to hide her face better. No sense wondering about that now. She was here and Elliott was there, and since there was no going back, she would concentrate on going forward.

  She left the house on tiptoe, grateful her mother—or worse, Shea—was nowhere around. She could sneak over to the bakery and say hello to her aunt. Leah would brief her on the real state of things—not the sanitized version her mother presented. Then, fortified with coffee, a delicious biscuit, and the latest family gossip, she’d return home and figure out the rest of her life. That was the plan, at least.

  She drove the back way down 40th Street, taking North Shore Drive out to Sunset Boulevard, the only way off the island, crossing over the new bridge that was all the talk among the islanders. There’d been much debate about the need to replace the old bridge, quaint as it was, with one that would allow for better traffic flow and better access for emergency vehicles. Much as she’d hated to hear about the demise of that part of her chi
ldhood history, she had to admit it was nice to get in and out of Sunset without worrying about timing her trip according to the top of the hour when the bridge opened and closed. How many times had she sat in the backseat of the car while her father fumed over sitting in traffic because the bridge was up? Ah, family memories.

  She passed the familiar landmarks, glad to see that not much had changed since she’d last been there, marveling that it had been as long as it had since she’d come to Sunset. She’d missed five summers, missed the bakery really taking off after years of working to make a name for it, missed driving over the old bridge just one last time. It was hard to think about all she’d missed.

  In mere minutes she pulled up outside Seaside Bakery, putting the car in park and taking in the window display her aunt had created. It featured a large wedding cake painted on the window with the words “Congratulations, Shea and Owen!” written in hot pink across the top. Et tu, Brute? She sighed and got out of the car.

  She entered the bakery to find an older man behind the counter. “Help you?” he asked gruffly. Ivy recognized the voice as the one that had answered the phone when she called. The man behind the voice was thin and nearly completely bald, a patch of reddish-gray hair ringing his narrow head. He wore khaki pants that were cinched around his waist in such a way that Ivy got the impression they’d slide right off if not for the belt keeping them there. But the most shocking thing about him was that he was wearing a hot-pink T-shirt bearing the Seaside Bakery name and a cartoon cake on the front. The über-feminine shirt was hardly what she expected this man to be wearing. But then again, a man working at the woman-dominated bakery was hardly what she expected either.

  She glanced around. “Actually, I’m looking for my aunt? Leah? The owner?” There was a time she would’ve just walked straight back to the kitchen like she owned the place, but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate to do anymore. She eyed the man, wondering when they’d be out of his earshot so she could ask her aunt about him. Perhaps he was some sort of prisoner on work release and Leah had hired him out of the goodness of her heart. She was always doing things like that—sometimes to her own detriment.

  “Le Le!” the man yelled. “Someone here to see you!”

  Le Le? In all her days she’d never heard Leah called anything but Leah.

  Leah bustled out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, powdered sugar or flour—they looked so similar—dotting the front of a T-shirt that was identical to the man’s, except it was about three sizes larger and looked much more appropriate on her. “Ivy!” she called out as their eyes met. “Your mama said you showed up last night!” Leah wrapped her into a suffocating hug, her fleshy arms holding her tight, the human contact so warm and welcoming Ivy was surprised at what it stirred up inside of her. She found that she didn’t want Leah to let go, and she wondered how long it’d been since someone had really hugged her. She’d been on autopilot for so long, she’d forgotten what touch could do, how it could melt away all her defenses.

  She stiffened and backed away from Leah. “Yes,” she said, holding out her arms like ta-da! “It’s me!”

  “I’m so glad you decided to come!” Leah continued. “But I never thought you would.”

  “Well, it was a … good time to do it. And I knew you all could use the help getting ready for the big day.” She pointed to the sign in the window as a reference, as if there could be any question what she was referring to.

  “I guess you met Lester?” Leah asked, using the towel in her hand to wipe down the display counter even though it was already in pristine condition. Her aunt was always busy.

  Ivy nodded at Lester. “I did,” she said, even though she hadn’t really.

  “Lester’s been working here for—what is it?—six months already?” She turned to Lester for approval and gave him what Ivy could only call a flirtatious smile. He blushed and nodded, standing a little taller under Leah’s gaze. Was something going on between Leah and Lester? Her long-widowed aunt and this little wisp of a man? The first thing that popped in her mind was what a field day she and Shea would have with this. Then her heart sank as she remembered. This wasn’t old times. This was five years later and things weren’t the same between her and Shea. Not by a long shot. She looked from Leah to Lester. More than just the bridge had changed at Sunset Beach.

  “So you gonna help me out around here? You know I could use it,” Leah said, turning from making googly eyes at Lester. “You always were one of my best employees.” She turned back to Lester and hooked her arm around Ivy’s shoulder. “Ivy was actually my first employee.”

  Ivy smiled, remembering the day of the grand opening. She and Michael had made themselves sick sampling all the goodies. Later they’d tried to walk off their full stomachs down by the ocean. That had been the night he’d told her all about their shared future, the way he saw it. He’d been so full of plans. And she’d been so full of fear. She’d told herself then it was because of her parents’ recent divorce, that the fear would subside. But it never really had, and ultimately she’d elected to run from it instead of face it.

  “Yeah, those were the days,” she agreed with Leah. Lester studied her with a confused look on his face.

  “Where you been keeping yourself since then?” he asked. His deep voice belied his small frame.

  “Oh, I live in Asheville now,” she said, wondering if that was actually true. “With my husband” she was quick to add. She glanced over at Leah to be sure she heard that part.

  She did. “How is Elliott?” Leah asked. She looked around dramatically, as if she’d missed him. “Where is Elliott?”

  “Well, he had work.” She waved her hand in the air with a smile. “And he knew he’d just be underfoot down here with all this wedding business. He’ll be here for the wedding, though.” She suppressed a grimace after the words were out of her mouth. Why had she said that?

  “That’s good to hear,” Leah said, a strange look on her face that Ivy ignored. “Seen your sister yet?”

  “No. She and Owen were out last night when I arrived, and I pretty much passed out after my long drive down.” I went to bed and watched the ceiling for hours as I tried to figure out what to do about my cheating husband and adjusted to the reality that I was actually back in Sunset. “But I’m sure I’ll see her when I get back home in a bit.” I can’t avoid her forever.

  “I really just popped by for one of your cheese biscuits. It’s been too long since I’ve had one.” Her stomach rumbled as she said it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Up to that moment, the thought of putting a bite of food in her mouth, chewing, and swallowing had seemed like too large of an undertaking. Suddenly, though, she could think of nothing else she wanted more than one of her aunt’s signature items, the perfect blend of cheese and dough, comfort food at its best. “Think I could get one of those and a coffee?”

  Leah was already in motion, ordering Lester to fetch a biscuit from the display case and heading over to the coffeepot to pour a cup of steaming black liquid. Ivy knew there were just Folgers grounds in the filter, but something about her aunt’s coffee tasted unlike any other cup of coffee she’d ever had. The closest she’d ever come was that little B&B in Highlands she and Elliott had stayed in that time … She blinked until the image of the two of them sipping coffee in bed disappeared. No sense crying over past coffee.

  She accepted the cup with a smile and held it up in a toast. Inside she was thinking, To pilgrimages. But she didn’t dare say it out loud.

  After promising her aunt she’d come back to the bakery and help out with some shifts, she drove over to Shallotte to pick up a prepaid cell phone at the Walmart there, then went reluctantly back to the beach house, arriving a little after nine. Her stomach was full even if her heart remained empty, though the hug from Leah had done her good. She wondered when the last time was that someone had wrapped her in a hug that lasted longer than a second, the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. Somewhere along the line, she must’ve star
ted giving off the vibe that she didn’t need human contact. Somewhere along the line, she might’ve even started believing that herself.

  Seeing her aunt and Lester flirting had brought a smile to her face, a real smile that wasn’t for show. Maybe she would ask Shea about Lester and Leah. Maybe talking about someone else would help the two of them stay in safe territory. That had worked with them when they were kids, when they’d mutually realized that Owen and Michael weren’t just neighbors, they were boys. The two sisters had become united in their mission to make the boys next door notice they weren’t just the girls next door. The joint effort had all but stopped their rivalry. They’d even agreed on who should be with whom. Serious, studious Michael with his brooding intensity and introspective philosophies was perfect for her. Jokester Owen with his charm and ease and sunny perspective was all Shea’s. And it had been wonderful, for a while.

  She pulled the car into the driveway, lifting her coffee cup from the cup holder and taking the final, lukewarm sip, frowning at the temperature as she got out of the car. She walked into the house, expecting to see Margot and Shea sitting together at the table, talking wedding. She’d seen the expected bride magazines lying around the house, had turned away from the image of the models dressed in white lace on the cover, the headlines boasting about a day where dreams came true. Whose dreams? she wanted to know.

  But the house looked empty. She stood silently for a moment, scanning the living/dining area, the bank of windows across the back displaying the view she’d been unable to see in the dark last night, the marsh and undeveloped beach land that served as the house’s backyard. Soon she would go for a walk down Bird Island, watch the seagulls play, try to find a whole sand dollar, breathe in and breathe out … She smiled at the Sleepless in Seattle reference.

  April would love Sunset Beach. Too bad she had to stay at the cabins and couldn’t join Ivy. Though April’s job was like being on vacation constantly, it also meant she couldn’t leave and go on a vacation of her own. Ivy used to tease her about her rough life. But standing there, looking out at the beach view, she thought about what April was missing.