Lacey returned from her exploration of the park's stage, which was set up for the five o'clock performance. She dropped down next to Tristan. "It was a silly thing to do," she chided.
He had expected her to say something like that.
"Which part?" he asked. After all, the afternoon had been long and eventful.
"Trying to get inside Gregory's head." She snorted. "It's a wonder he didn't knock you as far as Manhattan. Or LA!"
"I was desperate, Lacey! I've got to know what kind of game he's playing with Ivy and Suzanne."
"And you thought you needed a trip inside his head to find that out?" she asked incredulously. "You should have asked me. His game's no different than the kind I've seen a lot of guys play with girls. He's taking the easy one for a ride and chasing Miss Hard-to-Get." She moved her face close to Tristan's. "Am I right?"
Tristan didn't reply. It wasn't just a romantic game that was worrying him. Ever since he had made the connection between Caroline's death and Ivy's delivery to the house next door, he had wondered about the hidden purpose behind Gregory's new closeness to Ivy.
"Well, I hope you learned your lesson today," Lacey said.
"I have a pounding headache," he replied. "Are you satisfied?"
She laid her hand lightly on his forehead and said in a quieter voice, "If it makes you feel any better, Gregory probably has one, too."
Tristan squinted up at her, surprised by this small bit of gentleness.
She removed her hand and squinted back. "And why were you chasing Philip around, getting inside his mind?" she demanded. "Seems to me like another waste of energy. He already sees us glow — and gets in trouble every time he mentions it. That little conversation put Gregory in a real good mood this afternoon."
"I had to tell Philip who I was. Beth signed my name on the computer message. If Philip tells her he sees me, or my light, sooner or later she is going to have to believe."
Lacey shook her head doubtfully.
"And speaking of Philip," Tristan said, pulling himself up on one elbow, "I noticed how Gregory's mood got even better when Philip stopped talking about angels and pulled out an actual photograph of one.
What mission were you working on today when you jumped into that picture?"
Lacey didn't answer him right away. She gazed up at three women in leotards who had just been introduced onstage. "What do you suppose they're going to do?"
"Dance or aerobics. Answer my question."
"If I were them, I'd wear veils."
"Try again," Tristan said.
"I was working on my semimaterializing process," she told him, "solidifying myself enough to show a general shape but not become an actual body. You never know—1 might need to do something like that sometime in the future. To complete my mission, of course."
"Of course. And projecting your voice, so that everyone at Old West Photos could hear you — I guess you needed to practice that some more, too."
"Oh, well, that," she said with a flick of her hand. "I was working on your mission then."
"My mission?"
"In my own way." she replied. "You and I have very different styles."
"True. I'd never have thought of telling Will he has nice buns."
"Terrific buns," Lacey corrected him. "The best I've seen in a long time. ." She looked at Tristan thoughtfully. "Roll over."
"No way."
She laughed, then said, "That chick of yours, she wears her skin like a suit of armor. I thought that if I got a little joke going, I could get her to loosen up some, to open up to Will. I thought I had a chance, since she couldn't see his eyes beneath his hat, I think it's his eyes that get to her, that make her shut down like that."
"She sees me in them," Tristan said.
"Some guys will do that to you," Lacey went on. "They've got eyes a girl can drown in."
"She doesn't know it, but she sees me in them."
When Lacey did not confirm this, he sat all the way up. "Does Ivy see me looking out at her through Will's eyes?"
"No," Lacey said. "She sees another guy who's fallen in love with her, and it scares her to death."
"I don't believe it!" Tristan said. "You've got it wrong, Lacey."
"I've got it right."
"Will may have a crush, and she may find him sort of attractive, but—" Lacey lay back in the grass. "Okay, okay. You're going to believe only what you want to believe, no matter what." She stuck one arm behind her head, propping it up a little. "Which isn't a whole lot different than the way Ivy believes — in spite of what's right in front other nose."
"Ivy could never love anyone else," Tristan insisted. "I didn't know that before the accident, but I know it now. Ivy loves only me. I'm sure of that now."
Lacey tapped him on the arm with a long nail. "Excuse me for pointing out that you're dead now."
Tristan pulled his knees up and rested an arm on each one. He concentrated enough to materialize his fingertips, then dropped one of his hands and ripped up pieces of grass.
"You're getting good," Lacey observed. "That didn't take much effort."
He was too angry to acknowledge the compliment.
"Tristan, you're right. Ivy loves you» more than she loves anyone else. But the world goes on, and if you want her to stay alive, she can't stay in love with death. Life needs life. That's how the world goes."
Tristan didn't reply. He watched the three leotard ladies bounce around, then plod off the stage, shining with sweat. He listened to a little girl dressed like Annie half-sing, half-scream "Tomorrow," over and over.
"It really doesn't matter who's right," he said at last. "I need Will. I can't help Ivy without him."
Lacey nodded. "He's just arrived. I guess he's taking a break from work — he's sitting by himself, not far from the park gate."
"The others are over there," Tristan said, pointing in the opposite direction.
Beth and Philip were lying on their stomachs on a big blanket, watching the performances and picking clover, weaving it into a long chain. Suzanne sat with Gregory on the same blanket, her arms wrapped around him from behind. She rested against his back, laying her chin on his shoulder. Eric had joined them, but was sitting on the grass just beyond the corner of the blanket, fidgeting with the end of it. He continually looked over the crowd, his body twitching at odd moments, his head turning to look quickly behind him.
They watched several more performances, then Ivy was introduced. Philip immediately stood up and clapped. Everyone started to laugh, including Ivy, who glanced over in his direction.
"That will help her," Lacey said. "It breaks the ice. I like that kid."
Ivy began to play, not the song she was scheduled to play» but "Moonlight Sonata," the music she had played for Tristan one night, a night that seemed as if it had been summers and summers ago.
This is for me, Tristan thought. This is what she played for me, he wanted to tell them all, the night she turned darkness into light, the night she danced with me. Ivy's playing for me, he wanted to tell Gregory and Will.
Gregory was sitting absolutely still, unaware of Suzanne's small movements, his eyes focused on Ivy as if he were spellbound.
Will also sat still in the grass, one knee up, his arm resting casually on it. But there was nothing casual about the way he listened and the way he watched her. He was drinking up every shimmering drop.
Tristan rose to his feet and moved toward Will.
From Will's perspective Tristan watched Ivy, her strong hands, her tangle of gold hair in the lateafternoon sun, the expression on her face.
She was in a different world than he was, and he longed with his whole soul to be part of it. But she didn't know; he feared she would never know.