Across the lawn Philip was chanting his own soft song over a pot of weedy greens. Ivy approached him quietly. When he looked up and waved a wand at her, she could fell he was making her a character in his game. She played along.
"Can you help me, sir?" she said. "I've been lost in the woods for days. I'm far from home, with nothing to eat."
"Sit down, little girl," Philip said in a quivery old-man voice.
Ivy bit her lip to keep from giggling. "I will feed you."
"You're not — you're not a witch, are you?" she asked with dramatic caution.
"No."
"Good," she said, sitting down by the "camp-fire," pretending to warm her hands.
Philip carried the pot of leaves and weeds to her. "I'm a wizard."
"Eiiiii" She jumped up.
Philip exploded with laughter, then quickly assumed his serious, wizardly look again. "I'm a good wizard."
"Phewl" "Except when I'm mean."
"I see," said Ivy. "What's your name, wizard?"
"Andrew."
The choice took her aback for a moment, but she decided not to say anything about it. "Is that your house, Wizard Andrew?" she asked, pointing to the tree house above them. Philip nodded.
The other Andrew, the one who did magic with his credit cards, had hired carpenters to rebuild the tree house Gregory had played in as a child. It was more than doubled in size now, with a narrow boardwalk leading to the maple next to it, where more flooring and railings had been hammered into place. In both trees, upper levels had been added. A rope ladder dangled from one maple, and a thick rope that ended in a knot beneath a swing seat hung from the other. It was everything a kid could want, and moreGregory and Ivy had agreed on that after climbing around in it one day when Philip was out.
"Do you want to come up to my hideout?" Philip asked her now. "You'll be safe from all the wild beasts, little girl."
He scampered up the rope ladder and Ivy followed, enjoying the physical effort, the hard rub of the rope against her palms, and the way the wind and her own motion made the ladder sway. They climbed up two levels from the main floor, then stopped to catch their breath. "It's nice up here, Wiz."
"It's safe," Philip replied. "Except when the silver snake comes."
Fifty yards beyond them was the low stone wall marking the end of the Baines property. From there, the earth dropped away steeply into a landslide of jagged rocks, tangled scrub, and spindly trees that bent in odd ways to keep their hold in the rocky ground. Far below the Baines property was Stonehill's tiny railroad station, but from the tree house one could hear only the whistles of the trains as they ran between the river and the ridge.
Farther to the north. Ivy could see a twisting piece of blue, like a ribbon cut from die sky and dropped between the trees, and, next to it, a train crawling along, flashing back die sunlight.
She pointed to it. "What's that Wizard Andrew?"
"The silver snake," he replied without hesitation.
"Will it bite?"
"Only if you stand in its way. Then it will gobble you up and spit you out in the river."
"Ugh."
"Sometimes at night it climbs up die ridge," Philip said, his face absolutely serious.
"It couldn't."
"It does!" he insisted. "And you have to be very careful. You can't make it angry."
"Okay, I won't say a word."
He nodded approvingly, then warned, "You can't let it know you're afraid. You have to hold your breath."
"Hold my breath?" Ivy studied her brother.
"It will see you if you move. It watches you even when you don't think it's watching. Day and night."
Where was he getting this stuff from?
"It can smell you if you're afraid."
Was he really frightened of something, or was this just a game? she wondered. Philip had always had an active imagination, but it seemed to her it was becoming overactive and darker. Ivy wished his friend Sammy would return from summer camp. Her brother had everything he could want now, but he was too isolated from other kids. He was living too much in his own world.
"The snake won't get me, Philip," she told him, almost sternly. "I'm not afraid of it. I'm not afraid of anything," she said, "because we're safe in our house. All right?"
"All right, little girl, you stay here," he said. "And don't let anyone else in. I'm going over to my other house and get some magic clothes for you. They will make you invisible."
Ivy smiled a little. How would she play invisible? Then she picked up a battered broom and began to sweep off the flooring.
Suddenly she heard Philip yelp. She spun around and saw him tottering on the edge of the narrow boardwalk, sixteen feet above the ground. She dropped the broom and rushed toward him, but knew she couldn´t catch him in time.
Then, just as suddenly, he was balanced again.
He dropped down on all fours and looked back over his shoulder. The rapt expression on his face stopped Ivy in her tracks. She had seen that look on his face before: the wonder, the glow of pleasure, his mouth half open in a shy smile.
"What happened?" Ivy asked, moving toward him slowly now. "Did you trip?"
He shook his head, then picked up the loose end of a board.
Ivy leaned down to study it. The bridge had been constructed like a miniature boardwalk, with two long, thin boards secured between the two trees and a series of short planks laid across them. The short planks overhung the boards a few Inches on each side. This particular plank was nailed loosely on one side — Ivy could pull the nail out with her hands; on the other side there was a hole, but no nail.
"When I stepped here" — Philip pointed—"the other side came up."
"Like a seesaw," said Ivy. "It's a good thing you didn't lose your balance."
Philip nodded. "Good thing my angel was right here."
Ivy sucked in her breath. " 'Cause sometimes he isn't. Though he usually is when you're around."
Ivy closed her eyes and shook her head. "He's gone now," said Philip.
Good, thought Ivy. "Philip, we've talked about this before. There are no such things as angels. All you have is a bunch of statues—" "Your statues," he interrupted. "I'm taking good care of them."
"I told you," she said, her throat tightening and her head starting to throb, "I told you that if you wanted to keep those statues, you must never speak to me about angels again. Didn't I tell you that?"
He lowered his head and nodded. "Didn't you promise?" He nodded again.
Ivy sighed and pulled up the piece of wood. "Now slide around behind me. Before you go any farther, I want to check each board."
"But, Ivy," he said, "I saw my angel! I saw him catch the wood on the other side and push it down so I wouldn't fall. I saw him!"
Ivy sat back on her heels. "Don't tell me. Let me guess. He was wearing wings and a night-gown, and had a little saucer of light on his head."
"No, he was just light. He was just shining. I think he has sort of a shape, but it's always hard for me to see it. It's hard for me to see his face," Philip said. His own young face was earnest.
"Stop it!" said Ivy. "Stop it! I don't want to hear any more about it! Save it for when Sammy gets home, okay?"
"Okay," he said, the corners of his mouth stiff and straight. He slipped past her.
Ivy began to examine the boards and could hear her brother sweeping the tree house behind her. Then the broom stopped. She glanced over her shoulder. Philip's face was happy and bright again. He still clutched the broom, but he was standing on his tiptoes, stretching upward.
"Thank you," he mouthed silently.
That evening Ivy wandered from room to room in the house, feeling restless and edgy. She didn't want to go out or call up a friend, but she could find nothing to do at home. Each time she heard the clock chime in the dining room, she couldn't stop her mind from turning back to the night Tristan died.