"What? No. Not tonight," Ivy said. "I need some sleep, and you need to finish that story I interrupted.
This was my treat," she added, scooping up the check.
In the parking lot Ivy said good-bye several times, and Beth left her reluctantly.
As Ivy drove home she thought about Beth's story. The details of Caroline's suicide had not been made public, so Beth didn't know about the photos that Caroline had torn up the day she shot herself. It was funny the way Beth came up with things in her writing that seemed farfetched and kind of melodramatic, until some version of diem came true.
When Ivy arrived home, she saw that all the lights in the house were out except one, a lamp in Gregory's room. She hoped he hadn't noticed her car coming up the drive. She left it outside the ga*age. That way, if he got worried, he could see that she had arrived home safely. Ivy planned to go up the center stairs so she wouldn't have to pass his room. In the afternoon Gregory had called the shop twice. She knew he wanted to talk, and she wasn't ready, It was a warm evening, with no moon up yet, only stars sequining the sky. Ivy gazed up at them for a few moments, then walked quietly across the grass and patio.
"Where have you been?"
She jumped. She hadn't seen him sitting in the shadow of the house.
"What?"
"Where have you been?"
Ivy prickled at his tone. "Out," she said.
"You should have called me back. Why didn't you call me back. Ivy?"
"I was busy with customers."
"I thought you'd come home right after work."
Ivy dropped her keys noisily onto a cast-iron table. "And I thought I wouldn't be questioned about going out for an hour — not by you. I'm getting tired of it, Gregory!"
She could hear him shifting in the chair, but couldn't see his face.
"I'm getting tired of everyone watching out for me! Beth isn't my mother, and you're not my big brother!"
He laughed softly. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I was afraid that Eric had gotten you mixed up."
Ivy dropped her head a little, then said, "Maybe he did." She took a step toward die house.
Gregory caught her wrist. "We need to talk."
"I need to think, Gregory."
"Then think out loud," he said.
She shook her head.
"Ivy, listen to me. We're not doing anything wrong."
"Then why do I feel so-so confused? And so disloyal?"
"To Suzanne?" he asked.
"Suzanne thinks you're seeing someone else," Ivy told him.
"I am," he replied quietly. "I'm just not sure if she's seeing me…. Are you?"
Ivy bit her lip. "It isn't just Suzanne I'm thinking of."
"Tristan."
She nodded.
He tugged on her arm, pulling her closer to him. "Sit down."
"Gregory, I don't want to talk about it."
"Then just listen. Hear me out. You love Tristan. You love him like you love no one else."
Ivy pulled away a little, but he held her fingers tightly. "Listen! If you had been the one killed in the accident, what would you have wanted for Tristan? Would you want no one else to love him? Would you want him to be alone the rest of his life?"
"No, of course not," she said. "Of course not," he repeated softly. Then he pulled her down into the chair with him. The metal was cold and hard.
"I've been thinking about you all day and all night," he said.
He caressed her lightly; his fingers tracing her face and die bones of her neck. He kissed her as gently as he would a child. She let him, but she didn't kiss him back.
"I've been waiting here all night," he said. "I need to get out. How about going for a ride with me?"
"We can't leave Philip," Ivy reminded him.
"Sure we can," Gregory replied softly. "He's sound asleep. We'll lock up the house and turn on the outside alarm. We can drive around for a little while. And I won't talk any more, promise."
"We can't leave Philip," she said a second time.
"He´ll be all right. There's nothing wrong with riding around, Ivy. There's nothing wrong with blasting the stereo and driving a little fast. There's nothing wrong with having a good time."
"I don't want to go," she said.
She felt his body go rigid.
"Not tonight," she added quickly. "I'm tired, Gregory. I really need to go to bed. Another night, maybe."
"All right. Whatever you want," he said, his voice husky. He sagged back against the chair. "Get some sleep."
Ivy left him there and felt her way through the dark house. She checked on Philip, then walked through the adjoining bath to her own bedroom, where she was greeted by Ella's glowing eyes. Ivy switched on a small bureau lamp, and Ella began to purr.
"Is that purr for me," Ivy asked, "or him?"
Tristan's picture, the one his mother had given her, sat within the yellow circle of light.
Ivy took die picture in her hands. Tristan smiled up at her, wearing his old baseball cap-backward, of course. His school jacket flapped open, as if he were walking toward her. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that he was dead. Her head knew that he was, knew that in one sudden moment Tristan had stopped existing, but her heart just wouldn't let go.
"Love you, Tristan," she said, then kissed the photograph. "Sweet dreams."
Ivy woke up screaming. Her voice was hoarse, as if she had been screaming for hours. The clock said
1:15 A.M.
"It's okay! You're safe! Everything's okay, Ivy."
Gregory had his arms around her. Philip stood next to the bed, clutching Ella.
Ivy stared at them, then sank back against Gregory. "When will it stop? When will this nightmare end?"
"Shh, shh. Everything's okay."
But it wasn't. The nightmare kept growing. It kept adding on details, continually sending out tendrils of fear that curled into the dark places of her mind. Ivy closed her eyes, resting her head against Gregory.
"Why does she keep dreaming?" Philip asked.
"I'm not sure," Gregory said. "I guess it's part of getting over the accident."
"Sometimes dreams are messages from angels," Philip suggested. He said angels quickly, then glanced at Ivy, as if he thought she'd yell at him for mentioning them again.
Gregory studied Philip for a moment, then asked, "Angels are good, aren't they?"
Philip nodded.
"Well, if angels are good," Gregory reasoned, "do you think they'd be sending Ivy bad dreams?"
Philip thought about it, then slowly shook his head. "No… but maybe it's a bad angel doing it."
Ivy felt Gregory stiffen.
"It's just my mind doing it," she said quietly. "It's just my mind getting used to what happened to Tristan and me. In a while, the nightmares will stop."
But she was lying. She was afraid the dreams would never stop. And she was starting to think that there was something more to them than her getting over Tristan's death.
"I have an idea, Philip," Gregory said. "Until Ivy's nightmares stop, we'll take turns waking her up and staying with her. Tonight's my turn. Next time it's yours, okay?"
Philip looked doubtfully from Gregory to Ivy. "Okay," he said at last- "Ivy, can I take Ella in my room?"
"Sure. She'd love to cuddle with you."
Ivy watched her brother as he carried Ella, his head bent over her, his brow furrowed..
"Philip," she called after him. "When I get home from work tomorrow, we'll do something, just you and me. Think about what you want it to be — something fun. Everything's all right Philip. Really. Everything will be all right."
He nodded, but she could tell that he didn't believe her.
"Sleep tight," Ivy said. "You've got Ella with you. And your angel," she added.
He looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "You saw him, too?"
Ivy hesitated.
"Of course not," Gregory answered for her.
Of course not. Ivy repeated to herself — and yet for a moment she almost thought she did. She could almost believe an angel existed for Philip, though not for herself. -