'And the woman with blossoms falling around her like snow,' Ivy added.
'That's right.' Will continued to work, arranging his customers before the camera.
'They were amazing!' Beth said.
'I like the snake.' said Philip.
Ivy watched Will without saying anything. He was being the cool Will O'Leary again, acting as if his paintings and what they said about them didn't matter to him. Then she saw the quick turn of the head, as if he were checking to see whether she was still there. She realized then that he had wanted her to make a comment.
'Your paintings are really… uh…' All the words she could think of sounded flat.
'That's okay,' he said, cutting her short before she could come up with the right description.
'Are you coming along for a second look?' Gregory asked impatiently.
'Be out in a minute,' Beth replied, hurrying toward the dressing room.
Philip was walking to the dressing room and undressing at the same time.
'1 can't,' Ivy said to Gregory. 'I play at five o'clock and I need to—' 'Practice?' His eyes flashed.
'I need time to collect myself, to think through what I'm playing, that's all. I can't do that with everyone around.'
'I'm sorry you can't come,' Suzanne said, and Ivy knew she was making progress. Still, it hurt her to see Gregory turn away.
She dawdled in the dressing room long enough for the others to go. When she came out, there were only two customers left, trying on hats and laughing.
Wilt was relaxing in a canvas chair with one leg propped up on a trunk, studying a photograph in his hands. He turned it facedown when he saw her. 'Thanks for stopping by,' he said.
'Will, you didn't give me a chance to tell you what I liked about your paintings. I couldn't find the right words at first—' 'I wasn't fishing for compliments. Ivy.'
'I don't care whether you were or weren't,' she said, and plopped down in the chair across from him. 'I have something to say.'
'All right.' His mouth curved up slightly. 'Shoot.'
'It's about the one called Too Soon.'
Will took off his hat. She wished he had kept it on. Somehow — more and more, it seemed — looking into his eyes made it difficult for her to speak. She told herself they were just deep brown eyes, but whenever she looked into them she felt as if she were going into free fall.
The eyes are windows to the soul, she'd read once. And his were wide open.
She focused on her hands. 'Sometimes, when something touches you, it's hard to find the words. You can say things like 'beautiful,' 'fabulous/ 'awesome,' but the words don't really describe how you feel, especially if you were feeling all that, but the picture made you — made you hurt some, too. And your picture did.' She flexed her fingers. 'That's all.'
'Thanks,' Will said.
She looked up at him then, which was a mistake.
'Ivy-' She tried to look away, but couldn't.
'— how are you?'
'I'm fine. Really, I am.' Why did she have to keep telling people that? And why, when she said it to Will, did it feel as if he could see straight through the lie?
'I have something to say, too,' he told her. 'Take care of yourself.'
She could feel him looking at her cheek, the one that had been bruised during the assault. There was still a pale wash of color there, though she had done her best to disguise it with makeup.
'Please take care of yourself.'
'Why wouldn't I?' she snapped.
'Sometimes people don't.'
Ivy wanted to say. You don't know what you're talking about, you've never lost anyone you loved. But then she remembered Gregory's words about Will having gone through a tough time. Maybe Will did understand.
'Who's the person in your painting?' Ivy asked. 'Is it someone you knew?'
'My mother. My father still won't look at the picture.' Then he waved chat thought away and leaned forward. 'Be careful. Ivy. Don't forget that there are other people who will feel that they have lost everything if they lose you.'
Ivy looked away.
He reached for her face. She pulled back instinctively when he touched the bruised side. But he didn't hurt her, and he didn't let go. He cupped one hand around the back of her head. There was no escaping him.
Maybe she didn't want to escape him.
'Be careful, Ivy. Be careful!' His eyes shone with a strange intensity. 'I'm telling you — be careful!'
Ivy blinked. Then she broke away from Will and ran.
Tristan lay back in the grass, exhausted. The park at the end of Main Street was filling up with people.
Their picnic blankets looked like bright-colored rafts on a green sea. Kids rolled around and punched each other. Dogs pulled against their leashes and touched noses. Two teenagers kissed. An older couple flipped down their sunshades and watched, the woman smiling.
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
