He was standing back from the water as if he didnʹt like the feel of it washing over his feet.
ʺDoesnʹt everybody?ʺ he replied. ʺNo, not everybody.ʺ He dropped his eyes.
ʺThe water… it bothers me. I donʹt want to get in. It scares me.” he admitted, climbing the bank to the dryer sand.
ʺAfter what happened to you, it should,ʺ Ivy replied, following him, laying the beach towel where he dropped his backpack, about twenty feet beyond the tidal line. ʺIt’s okay to be afraid, Guy. Anyone who had nearly drowned would be.ʺ
He pulled off his sweatshirt and T‐shirt. It took Ivyʹs breath away, the strength and the vulnerability she saw in him. His back and shoulders were broad and muscular, but his skin a pale, grayish green with fading bruises.
ʺNone of this looks familiar,ʺ he said, surveying the distant houses spread beyond the dunes.
He sat on the towel close to Ivy. The desire to put her arms around him, to shield him from the confusion and fear that haunted him, was so strong that she had to look away. Water Angel, help him, she prayed, then asked, ʺDo you believe in angels?ʺ
ʺNo. Do you?ʺ ʺYes,ʺ she said firmly. Peeking sideways, she saw the corners of Guyʹs mouth curling upward. Tristan had once worn the same amused expression.
ʺI believe there are people who act like angels,ʺ Guy added, ʺshowing up unexpectedly at the moment you need them. Like the little boy who gave me this.ʺ He inched in his pocket, pulling out a gold coin stamped with an angel.
“He came to my hospital room and started jawing with me like he had known me all his life. There was something about that kid, the way he looked at me — it was as if he could see through me and understood something I didnʹt.ʺ
Ivy took the coin from him. ʺThat kid — heʹs my brother.ʺ
ʺYour brother.ʺ Guyʹs eyes narrowed, as if he was trying hard to remember something. Ivyʹs cell phone went off and they both turned toward her bag. After a minute, the familiar ring‐tone stopped, men it began all over again.
ʺArenʹt you going to answer it?ʺ Guy asked. Ivy handed the coin back to him.
ʺLater. I, uh, want to get my feet wet,ʺ she said, and headed toward the waves.
She felt as if she couldnʹt fight it anymore than she could fight the sea, this deep connection she felt with Guy. It was a relief to stand in the surf, the ocean rushing against her legs, making her skin cold and tingly. Tristan had taught her to swim, and after Gregory had died, Ivy had taken lessons, becoming an even stronger swimmer.
Still, her feet fought the undertow and her arms prickled with the oceanʹs spray.
She was both afraid of and seduced by the sea. She stood there for a long time, then moved closer to the shore, crouching to look at a sparkling crescent of shells and pebbles. When she glanced up, Guy was standing ten feet away, watching her so closely she became self‐conscious. She stood up, and at the same time, he moved toward her, smiling.
ʺYour hair!ʺ he said
Feeling the wind tossing it this way and that, she reached back and caught her hair, holding it still. ʺWhat about it?ʺ
ʺYou should see it. Itʹs… wild.ʺ She imagined it looked like kinky gold seaweed blowing in the wind. ʺHey, do you see me laughing at yours?ʺ Not that there is any reason to, she thought. His streaky blond hair had a curl to it— like hair an Italian sculptor might give a hero.
Guy laughed, then glanced over his shoulder. Her cell was ringing again. They caught a snatch of it before the breeze carried off the sound. ʺSame ringtone,ʺ he observed. ʺFor some reason, it sounds to me like Will.ʺ
ʺIt is.”
ʺI made him nervous yesterday.ʺ When Ivy didnʹt comment, Guy went on. ʺI thought about telling him that he had nothing to worry about. . Does he have anything to worry about?ʺ
ʺLike what?ʺ
He smiled. ʺWell, when I was making the great escape from the hospital, I asked if I should say that I was your boyfriend. You quickly corrected me — brother, you said.ʺ
Ivy gazed downward and turned over a shell with her toe, as if fascinated by how it might look on the opposite side.
ʺA girl who quickly informs you that you cannot be her boyfriend is one of two things: very committed to her boyfriend, or feeling guilty because sheʹs not.ʺ
Ivy crouched to pick up the shell. ʺWhich was it?ʺ he asked. She didnʹt reply.
Rising to her feet, she attempted to distract him from the question by holding out the shell to him. But instead of looking at it, he caught a piece of her hair.
The light tug of his hand, the way he opened his palm and looked down at the lock of her hair, made her heart pound. His gaze was hidden beneath golden lashes. Then he raised his eyes and caught her mass of hair in both hands, lifting it away from her face. His hands slid to the back of her neck with the gentleness of someone cupping a flower. Gazing at her mouth, he bent his head, moving his face slowly closer to hers. A rush of cold water pushed them apart. ʺSorry, I — it startled me. The water.” he said, looking embarrassed.
ʺMe too.ʹ After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she added, ʺIʹm starved.
Why donʹt we have our lunch now?ʺ He nodded and they returned to the beach towel, where they ate in silence. As Ivy took the last bite of her sandwich, her cell phone went off again. Guy hummed along with the familiar ring, and grinned at Ivy. She dug into her bag.
ʺI knew youʹd give in sooner or later.ʺ
ʺDid you?ʺ she replied. Leaving the phone in the bag, she pulled out a paperback and sunglasses, and began to read. Guy laughed, then spread his sweatshirt behind her and his T‐shirt behind him. In five minutes he was asleep — Ivy knew it by his slow and even breaths.
She reached in her bag for her phone. Three calls and three texts from Will. One call, no message, from Beth. Ivy looked at Willʹs first text: WHERE R U?
Canʹt I go anywhere without telling you? she thought, then felt guilty. She clicked on the second message. It was an apology for whatever Will had said in his voicemails. Ivy moved on to the third, deciding not to listen to the voicemailsthings between them were strained enough.
R U OK? Will wrote. B SAYS SOMETHING IS WRONG. 1 OF THOSE FEELINGS
SHE GETS. MAKING ME CRAZY. Ivy sighed. She couldnʹt blame Will for worry-ing when Beth went on like that, but this time Beth was wrong. @ BEACH.
HOME 4 DINNER, Ivy typed to Will and Beth, then turned off her phone and dropped it in her bag.
Gazing down at Guy, Ivy reached, and with light fingers, touched his hair. She lay down close to him, wanting, for the first time in a year, to live in no other time but the present.
IT WAS NEARLY SIX OʹCLOCK WHEN IVY DROPPED GUY off at Nickerson.
Arriving at the Seabrightʹs lot, she noticed a bright yellow sports car parked next to Kelseyʹs Jeep and Dhanyaʹs Audi.
Hearing voices in the direction of the cottage. Ivy checked her messages before following the path from the lot to the cottage. Will had written that Dhanyaʹs and Kelseyʹs new friends were coming over for a cookout: Y DONʹT U STOP BY
SOMETIME? he had added. His concern had changed to sarcasm, and in a way, that was easier for her to handle.
Emerging from the path, she saw that the barbecue had begun. An old banquet table had been dragged out from Aunt Cindyʹs shed and covered with a checkered cloth. Extra chairs had been borrowed from the innʹs porch. Will was poking at coals in the grill and glanced up at her as she approached. ʺNice of you to show,ʺ he remarked, and went back to work.