pointed in the direction of the garden, his hand coated with sandy soil. ?I was helping him out — just for something to do. And he asked if I liked that kind of work. He?s going to set me up with one of his parishioners who?s looking for summer help.?
?Great! He didn?t care if you had references??
?I made up a name and cell phone number/? Guy replied.
?What??
?With a little luck, the man won?t bother to check.?
?It’s just that—? Ivy didn?t finish her statement. The bruise on Guy?s face had faded beneath his tan and was barely noticeable. It was a breezy morning, and it may not have seemed odd to the priest that Guy hadn?t removed his sweatshirt or rolled up his sleeves to work.
?You don?t trust me/? he said. ?Will has been filling your head with doubts—?
Ivy felt defensive of Will. ?Don?t blame him. I?m quite capable of doubting on my own.? Guy?s eyes met hers, then he threw back his head and laughed. ?You?re so honest!? He sat down in a pew, draping his arms across the back of the bench.
?Play something for me. I have a strong feeling I?m not a classy guy and will be easy to impress.?
?The song you were humming was from a musical. 1 have a pile of Broadway songs home in Connecticut.? She flipped through the books she had brought, looking for something light and melodic. ?A guy I loved once liked musicals.?
?You don?t love him anymore?? Ivy met Guy?s eyes. ?No, I still do. I always will.?
?He dumped you,? Guy guessed. ?He died.? Guy dropped his arms from the back of the church bench. ?I?m sorry — I didn?t realize. . How?? he asked gently.
?He was murdered.? Guy rose to his feet. ?Jesus Christ!? Ivy took a deep breath.
?Is that a prayer? You?re in the right place.? Guy continued to stare at her, and she made herself busy looking for music. ?This?ll work— Brahms.? She began to play.
Guy circled the piano, still staring at her, his hands in his pockets, then he strolled down the side aisle. He stopped at each stained glass window and seemed to study it.
Was he reading the images or peering through them. Ivy wondered; was he seeing the present or catching glimpses of the past? More than ever, her past with Tristan seemed to intrude into her everyday life.
She finished Brahms, and continued with music she knew by heart: the first movement of Beethoven?s Piano Sonata, Number 14. By the final measures Guy was standing behind her.
?You?re playing from memory,? he said as the last note faded. Ivy nodded.
?I can?t remember my own name,? he observed, ?but you can play an entire song from memory.?
Ivy swallowed hard. Better to have the pain in her heart forever than to lose her memory of Tristan — Guy had taught her that much. ?It’ s a song you love, or maybe one
Ivy closed the piano and gathered up her pieces of music. ?Yes.?
??Moonlight Sonata.? Guy said. ?The first part of Beethoven?s Sonata Fourteen.?
Ivy?s turned to him, surprised. Guy took a step back. “Whoa! How?d I know that??
They gazed at each other, mirroring amazement, then Ivy smiled. ?And you thought you weren?t a classy guy!?
They had picked up sandwiches and soda at a cafe near the church, and Ivy had given Guy the beach towel she had brought along. ?Would you like me to come back in an hour? It’s a long walk to Nickerson,? she added, ?and I?ll be driving home in that direction.?
Guy kept his eyes on the beach, and after a moment asked, ?Would you come with me?? She was careful not to gush
Reaching the sand, she stepped aside to let Guy lead the way, not wanting to do anything that might extinguish a spark of memory. She followed him across the beach, removing her shoes as he did when they reached the damp sand, then walking next to him, heading south. Toddlers played at the sea?s frothy edge, running back and forth with plastic pails. A father played Frisbee with his kids.
A middle?aged woman with wet, spiky hair smiled to herself as she carried her raft from the waves. Beneath a striped umbrella a younger boy played checkers with an older one and let out a shout of victory. Thinking about the way Philip had loved to play the game with Tristan, Ivy turned for another look and saw that Guy had stopped to watch the pair. ?You were frowning,? Ivy said when they moved on. ?I thought — for a moment I thought I knew that kid, the little one.?
They strolled on in silence and passed a sign that prohibited swimming from mat point south. ?The officer who interviewed me said that they found me about fifty yards beyond the no?swimming sign.?
They walked that distance and Guy stopped to survey the area. ?Not very smart of me,? he remarked dryly, “to swim at midnight in an area with dangerous currents.?
?Are you sure you were swimming?? she asked. ?The doctors said there was enough seawater in me to drown an army.?
?Okay, but it?s obvious from your injuries you were in some kind of fight.
Maybe you were knocked unconscious at the edge of the ocean and the tide came in. Do you know how to swim?? she asked.
He was standing back from the water as if he didn?t like the feel of it washing over his feet.
?Doesn?t everybody?? he replied. ?No, not everybody.? He dropped his eyes.
?The water… it bothers me. I don?t want to get in. It scares me.” he admitted, climbing the bank to the dryer sand.
?After what happened to you, it should,? Ivy replied, following him, laying the beach towel where he dropped his backpack, about twenty feet beyond the tidal line. ?It’s okay to be afraid, Guy. Anyone who had nearly drowned would be.?
He pulled off his sweatshirt and T?shirt. It took Ivy?s 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.
?None of this looks familiar,? 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, ?Do you believe in angels??
?No. Do you?? ?Yes,? she said firmly. Peeking sideways, she saw the corners of Guy?s mouth curling upward. Tristan had once worn the same amused expression.
?I believe there are people who act like angels,? Guy added, ?showing up unexpectedly at the moment you need them. Like the little boy who gave me this.? 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 didn?t.?
Ivy took the coin from him. ?That kid — he?s my brother.?
?Your brother.? Guy?s eyes narrowed, as if he was trying hard to remember something. Ivy?s 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.
