ʺYes, if it hadnʹt been for Will, Gregory would have succeeded. Will risked his life for me. He saved me.ʺ Will stared into the flames. Rising to her feet, Ivy went to him. Kneeling close, she put her arms around him. For a minute, he rested back against her, laying his hand over hers.
When Ivy looked up, Guy had shut the album and was watching them from across the bonfire. Dhanya sniffled loudly.
Kelsey sat up. ʺDhanya, youʹre crying for a cat and a guy you donʹt even know.ʺ
ʺI know Ivy and Will,ʺ Dhanya replied.
ʺIf somebody doesnʹt get cheerful around here,ʺ Kelsey said, ʺIʹm leaving.ʺ No one said anything cheerful. ʺAll right, boys and girls, Iʹm out of here. You coming, Dhanya?ʺ
Dhanya shook her head no. “I’ll go with you,” Beth said, standing up. Will and Ivy looked at her surprised. ʺIt’s over. Tristan is gone.” Beth told them, tossing her bouquet of salvia into the fire.
It flared, flames leaping skyward: far a moment, then dropped back. A shower off sparks, darkening to cinders, made Ivy think of falling stars.
“Rest in peace, Tristan,” Will said softly.
WILL AND IVY BURIED THE FIRE AN HOUR LATER. IVY wished she could ride home on the back of Guyʹs motorbike, but she could see that Will was still hurting and would feel betrayed if she didnʹt return with him and Dhanya.
All of them went to bed early, and Ivy slept solidly until three a.m., when she was jolted awake. Opening her eyes, she became instantly alert, as if someone had called to her.
She sat up, listening intently. Beth, Dhanya, and Kelsey remained asleep. Ivy knelt by the window, pressing her face against the screen, but she neither saw nor heard anyone outside.
Rising to her feet, she slipped on her T‐shirt and jeans, then picked up her shoes and wallet, and tiptoed down the steps. Outside the cottage the full moon was high, silvering the garden. Ivy paused only a moment to take in the quiet night, then walked to her car with purpose, as if she had planned hours ago to return to Race Point.
She coasted in neutral with her headlights off until she reached the paved road, then flicked them on and drove. There was a part of Ivy that stood outside herself, wondering at her own actions.
This feeling of being called — had it come from a dream? All she knew was that whatever had awakened her, it was something beyond herself.
Ivy left her car in an empty lot at Race Point and walked toward the sea. The rich colors of sunset and bonfire had burned away. The landscape of dune and ocean, bathed in the light of the moon, seemed otherworldly. ʺI knew youʹd come.ʺ
At the sound of Guyʹs voice. Ivyʹs heart stopped. Guy had followed her from the path through the dunes. In the moonlight his fair hair was tarnished silver.
ʹʹDid you? How?ʺ
ʺI couldnʹt sleep, and I kept thinking. Sheʹs going back. I have to be there.ʺ He stopped six inches from her. ʺWhat made you return?ʺ he asked.
ʺI donʹt know. I felt like I was being called.ʺ They walked together to the fire pit.
Ivy had left a single lavender rose on top of the buried fire. Picking it up, she touched its velvet petals with one finger. ʺHe brought you lavender roses,” Guy said. ʺYou knew that?ʺ
ʺWhen I saw the expression on your face, I knew.ʺ Ivy dropped her eyes. ʺI was trying to help,” Guy told her. ʺIʹm sorry if I made you hurt more.ʺ
ʺYou didnʹt. It felt like — a kind of miracle — getting those roses. It felt like… a message from Tristan.ʺ
Guy reached for her hand. ʺCome here. I found a good place to sit.ʺ He led her to a sheltered spot between sandy knolls that rustled with beach grass. Sitting on the sand, they rested their backs against a bleached log.
ʺWhen you and Will were talking about Tristan,ʺ Guy said, ʺI felt like I knew him.ʺ Ivy gazed into Guyʹs eyes hopefully. ʺHow did Tristan die?ʺ he asked.
ʺGregory cut his carʹs brake line,ʺ Ivy replied. ʺWe were driving on a winding road, and there was a deer, and another car. We couldnʹt stop. I lived. Tristan didnʹt.ʺ She searched Guyʹs face for a flicker of recognition, but he looked away before she could read his eyes. ʺWas Gregory jealous of Tristan?ʺ he asked.
“Was Gregory in love with you?ʺ ʺNo, I was the target. I had run into Gregory the night he killed his mother and—ʺ
ʺHis mother!ʺ
ʺ—he thought that I knew he had done it.ʺ ʺEven so,ʺ Guy said, ʺwas Gregory in love with you?”
ʺFor a while he pretended to care. I would wake up from terrible dreams, and he would be there. He was so gentle with me. He would hold me until I went back to sleep.ʺ ʺSo, maybe—ʺ
ʺNo. At the end it was clear — Gregory hated me.”
ʺLove can fuel hate,ʺ Guy observed He drew a triangle in the sand and traced it twice, frowning. ʺWhat is it?ʺ Ivy asked. He shook his head. ʺI donʹt know.
Sometimes something seems familiar, and then I lose the thread again.”
Ivy reached and smoothed his cheek with the backs of her fingers. ʺIʹm haunted by a past I canʹt forget, and youʹre haunted by a past you canʹt remember.ʺ
Guy encircled her with his arms. ʺSo. let’s live in the present. Every moment I have with you feels like a gift.ʺ
They leaned against the log, gazing up at the stars. His tender kiss became a passionate one. After a while, Guy took off his shirt and spread it on the sand, then lay back on the edge of it, leaving most of the soft fabric for Ivy. She lay down and rested against his chest.
ʺSleep, now.” he said, holding her securely in his arms. ʺWeʹre together now.
Sleep.ʺ
IVY AWOKE TO A SKY STREAKED WITH PEACH AND pink in the east. Guyʹs arms were still around her, his eyes closed. She slid onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, studying his face, the golden lashes and rough beard.
With one finger she traced the shape of his lips. His eyes opened. ʺGood morning,” he said softly. ʺHowʹd you sleep?ʺ
ʺGreat. I found a good pillow. How about you?ʺ
He raised himself far enough to kiss her shoulder. *I found a sleep mate who doesnʹt have fleas.ʺ She shoved him down, laughing. ʺWhat time do you have to be at work?ʺ he asked. ʺWork!ʺ Ivy sat up and fumbled for her cell phone. It was dead. ʺDo you know what time it is?ʺ
Guy pulled his phone from his pocket. ʺA little after five.ʺ
ʺThe innʹs almost an hour away, and I start work at six thirty!ʺ
ʺBack to reality,ʺ Guy said, rising to his feet, then extending a hand to her. She picked up his shirt and shook it clean.
Guy, who had parked his motorbike by the visitorsʹ center, caught up with Ivy and followed her down Route 6. By the time they arrived at the Seabright’s lot, the sun was shooting yellow rays through gaps in the dark scrub pine. Climbing off his bike, Guy checked his phone again. ʺFive fifty‐eight,” he told her.
Ivy leaned against her car, reluctant to say good‐bye. ʺYou know, Beth has always said that cars are like clothes — details that develop a storyʹs character.”
ʺAnd?ʺ
ʺWhat kind of car would you like to drive?ʺ she asked. ʺSomething with a lot of horsepower that looks good with dents.ʺ Ivy grinned. Hand in hand, they walked the path toward the cottage. “What do you think you did drive?ʺ
ʺProbably somebody elseʹs old car. Like my parentsʹ or — I donʹt even know—ʺ
His voice cracked. ʺI donʹt even know if I have parents.ʺ
ʺWhat kind of parents would you want to have? How about a mother whoʹs a doctor?ʺ Ivy felt Guy pull back. ʺThatʹs dangerous. Ivy.ʺ ʺWhat is?ʺ she asked defensively. ʹImagining things about me. I donʹt want to get confused. I donʹt want to mix up what really happened with the things that I wantʺ—he hesitated