The Wishing Tree (8 page)

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I can do it.”
This is why you came
, she coached herself.
Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is
. She gave them a brave smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

“You’re going to have to send out the tags separately. You know that, right?” Shea asked, her tone expressing her disdain.

“It’ll be fine,” Ivy responded.

“Oh, good!” Margot beamed. “That was one thing I just couldn’t see us getting to unless we burned the midnight oil.” She wiped her hands on the front of her nightgown, a flannel one that definitely qualified as a granny gown. “And I’m not much good at that anymore.”

A beat of silence passed before Margot announced that she was going to shower and get ready for their appointments. She looked at Shea, ever the mother. “You should get a move on, young lady, if you’re going to be ready.” She turned to Ivy. “You’re welcome to come with us.”

I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than hear you two go on and on with photographers and florists
. “Oh no, I was thinking of going for a walk, getting reacquainted with the place,” she said. But Margot was already walking away, assuming the answer was no.

She shrugged at Shea, who was looking at her with a strange expression. “What?” she asked, wondering if she had coffee spilled down her shirt or something.

“Speaking of getting reacquainted, you know Michael’s here, right?”

She knew her panicked expression would give her away if she tried to lie. She had a terrible poker face. “No, I didn’t know that.” She’d assumed that he’d settled in his hometown of Raleigh, like he’d always planned. Maybe even gotten married. She never dared ask and she’d avoided looking him up on Facebook or googling his name, though lately it had been tempting, proof that two could play at Elliott’s game. But it wasn’t a game. And even if it was, how did you determine a winner? And what was the prize?

“Yeah … Owen suckered him into coming here for moral support, and he got into this house renovation project. You’ll see.”

Ivy pretended to be engrossed in the view of the marsh even though she could feel Shea’s eyes on her. When she didn’t respond, Shea continued. “I think it’s pretty amazing of him to come here, considering….” She let her voice trail off. Ivy didn’t need her to finish the sentence, didn’t need her to point out whose side she was, ultimately, still on.

Ivy dropped her eyes to the floor. “Yeah.”

The silence between them stretched out for a few uncomfortable seconds until, mercifully, Shea announced that she needed to get ready and left the room. Ivy watched her go, thinking about what her sister didn’t say long after she was gone and Ivy was left alone in the very place she once vowed she’d never return to.

Ivy walked along the water’s edge, hugging herself, shivering a
bit as the wind picked up. It was May and warm, but with the breeze coming off the ocean, it could still be chilly at times. And the water was nowhere near ready to swim in. When they were kids they used to dare each other to dash into it over spring break, their lips blue when they emerged. But they always swore they weren’t cold at all. She could still see Owen and Michael, teeth chattering as they crossed their hearts, the sun glinting off their blond heads. She smiled.

She wanted to see Michael again.

The knowledge that he was nearby made her shiver all over, and this time not because she was cold. She carried the mental picture of him the last time they were together, a dismal final image to hang on to, but the only one she
had. Thanks to choices she had made—choices she wasn’t so sure were right in hindsight—she had broken his heart. “Shattered it, then stepped on it” as Owen so eloquently put it. She wondered if he’d managed to put it back together again.

The jetty that marked the end of Bird Island came into view. She made a visor with her hand and took in the vista ahead of her. She was the only person out on the beach for as far as she could see, a feeling that was at once thrilling and terrifying. She loved the solitude but was scared of it too.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she said aloud, a prayer that didn’t begin with “Dear Lord” or end with “In Jesus’ name.” It wasn’t a very official prayer, yet it felt more authentic than any other prayer she’d prayed.

She pressed on toward the end of the island, determined to touch the rocks of the jetty, to navigate her way out to the end and sit for a moment. Like she used to do when she would come out there to daydream about a future she’d thought would look much different than this. As she walked, she felt the answer to her prayer that wasn’t a prayer: “You aren’t alone.”

Then why do I feel like it?
she thought.

“You’re here to answer that question.” The answer surprised her. She wondered if she was really hearing the voice of God or merely answering her own questions on some subconscious level. She watched her footprints in the sand disappear in the path of the waves and figured that one way or the other, she would find out.

When Margot and Shea returned from their appointments late that afternoon, Margot jumped right on to the next item on her list. “I just remembered where I put that wishing tree.” She hustled Ivy downstairs to the storage room in the basement. Flipping on the light, they surveyed a jumble of artifacts from her childhood—a red kite with a rip down the center, its string tangled in the handle of a sand pail faded by the sun and missing its shovel, a box of sunscreen bottles long past their expiration dates, a bike with a flat tire, Shea’s rusted pogo stick. If she closed her eyes, she could still see her younger sister bouncing around in the carport area, her blond hair bouncing in time with her jumps.

Her mother moved things out of the way to reveal part of a tree branch. Digging farther, she excavated the rest of the wishing tree. Her wishing tree. The one she and Margot had made shortly after she’d accepted Michael’s ring, giggling together as they arranged the beach rocks and shells to anchor the branches, turning them just so. As they’d worked, Margot had shared the memory of the wishing tree at her own wedding. She’d smiled as she’d shared some of the funnier wishes, her eyes growing misty as she relayed the memory of Simon reading her the wishes before they stowed them away. Ivy had been surprised by her mother’s willingness to talk about her father and wondered where those wishes were now that the marriage was over.

Margot hefted the tree onto a bench so they could both examine it. The branches were askew and most of the beach rocks and shells they’d used to anchor the branches had fallen out. She waited for her mother to pronounce the verdict: DOA. But instead her mother cracked a smile and
clapped her hands together. “We’ve got something we can work with here!”

Ivy’s eyes widened. Why not just start over completely and throw the stupid thing away?

“You really want to try to save this?” she asked.

Her mother gave her a knowing look. “No, I want
you
to try to save it.” She clapped Ivy on the back. “And you better get to work. Time’s a wastin’!” Margot started to dig in a nearby box. “Now, I know we’ve got those tags we bought in here somewhere …”

Her tags. Tags people were supposed to write wishes for her and Michael on. It all just seemed … wrong. Perhaps she was being superstitious, but she didn’t think Shea and Owen’s wishes should be written on tags originally meant for a marriage that never happened. She was all for saving money, but … it was bad enough they were using her tree at Margot’s insistence. Still, maybe once she restored it, it would be a different tree entirely.

She put her hand on her mom’s shoulder. “Mom, I’ll just buy more tags.”

Her mom shrugged. “Okay, honey. You go ahead and take that upstairs. There’s something else I want to look for down here.” She turned her back and started digging through more boxes.

Ivy wrapped her arms around the pot and lifted the heavy wishing tree from the bench. She picked her way up the stairs carefully, the tree branches blocking her view as she entered the kitchen.

“I heard it but I didn’t believe it,” a voice said.

She started, then peered over the branches. “Hello to
you too, Owen.” She went past him and set the tree down on the counter before turning to face him. “Good to see you,” she offered, even if it wasn’t totally true. After everything happened he’d at first been icy cold, then politely distant. Now he seemed to be back to his old cocky self.

He reached out to give her a hug and she went, a bit woodenly, into his arms, forcing herself to hug back, to try to remember what it felt like for this to be natural, easy.

“I’m finally going to be your brother-in-law, like, officially.”

She stepped back, creating a comfortable space between them. “Yeah. That’s … exciting.”

He smirked at her. “You’re a bad actress.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms in front of her.

“I’d just love to know why you’re really here.” He crossed his arms too, mocking her. He always did know just how to get under her skin, the brother she never had.

“I’m here to help with the wedding. See?” She pointed at the dilapidated pot of branches on the counter. “I’m in charge of the wishing tree.”

His eyes followed the direction of her finger. “If that’s where people are putting their wishes for us, we’re in big trouble.”

“I’m going to fix it,” she retorted with an eye roll. Owen always could bring out her inner teenager.

“Where’s your hubby?”

“Home.” She added, “In Asheville,” as if he didn’t know where she lived. Of course he hadn’t ever visited. None of them had.

Owen just nodded, sizing her up with those knowing eyes of his. Five years ago he was the first one to guess that there was something she wasn’t telling them. He’d given her a look a lot like the one he was giving her now.

“Well, tell him I said hi, by all means. I mean, when you talk to him.” His eyes darted to the front window, studying the house across the street.

“I will,” she said, glancing around the room as she tried to think of an excuse to get away from Owen.

“By the way,” he added, turning back to her and fixing her with his gaze. “Shea was trying to call you earlier. Said your service has been disconnected. Isn’t it kind of hard to talk to your husband if you don’t have a phone?”

“I had to cancel my service. It was a business account and we’re closing the business, as you might’ve heard.” The lie tumbled right out of her mouth. Is this what Elliott felt like all those times he lied to her? Was he taken aback by the shock that registered seconds after the exhilaration of coming up with just the right excuse? She didn’t want to think about Elliott, and she certainly didn’t want to discuss him with Owen.

“Yeah, I heard about that. Tough break,” Owen replied without an ounce of sympathy. Looking at him, she knew he was a little glad she had failed.
If he only knew
.

“Which is also why I’m here. Elliott understood my need to get away.”
For more reasons than you need to know about
, she didn’t add.

“Well, it sounds like you’re going to land on your feet, regardless.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “You always do.”

She was about to argue with him when Shea came bouncing into the room. She didn’t need the pogo stick anymore.

“Hey, you,” Shea said, reaching for Owen and planting a kiss on his lips with a loud smack. Ivy looked away. She was never very comfortable around public displays of affection, but especially not now when her own love life was in shambles. When was the last time she’d felt free to walk into a room and simply plant a kiss on Elliott’s lips? “Just talked to Dad,” Shea said to Ivy. “He said to call him about some business question.” She turned back to Owen. “And he said yes to the extra moola we need!” Owen and Shea bumped fists over the news while Ivy secretly wondered why her father would say yes to more funding when he was already facing so much financially.

She slipped away while their attention was diverted, climbing the stairs to her room, fighting to retain control in spite of what seeing Owen, and Owen and Shea together, stirred up. She should have known better than to run back to her family. Because dealing with her family was turning out to be no easier than dealing with Elliott.

The feeling of being alone closed in on her once more.

She flopped down on her bed, looked at her pillow, and felt suddenly bone tired. She curled up and attempted to shut out the world, closing her eyes to block the images of the day: her mother in a granny gown, the deserted stretch of beach, Shea kissing Owen, and a bedraggled collection of bare branches that were supposed to somehow pass for a wishing tree. Just before she fell asleep, she thought of her answer on the beach: she was there to find out how to stop feeling so alone. Somewhere at Sunset was the answer to that question.

When she awoke it was dark outside. She looked around for the time, confused about whether it was evening or early, early morning. Maybe she’d slept for hours and hours. She sat up, groggy and disoriented. Maybe she’d slept for days.

Her prepaid phone told her it was after 8:00 p.m. Her stomach rumbled. She’d never eaten lunch and had slept through her normal dinnertime. Never one to miss a meal, she got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, wondering if her mother had cooked. On the way down she grabbed her laptop and decided to see if anyone had emailed her new email address while she ate. She found a handwritten note from her mom that said she and Shea had gone shopping and that there was some soup warmed up on the stove.

She helped herself to a bowl and crumbled saltines over the top. Balancing her bowl and spoon along with her laptop, she set up her meal at the island, taking a seat at the same barstool she’d sat on that morning. She opened her laptop and logged in to her new email account but found not one email.

She slurped her soup and closed the email account page, feeling a little bereft at the thought of all the emails she was missing. And yet, this was what she’d wanted: a nice clean break. She stared at her screen saver, a photo she’d taken of the stream that ran by the cabin she’d lived in when she first moved to Asheville. April! She’d not talked to her at all! She was probably going crazy wondering. Ivy ran upstairs, grabbed her phone, and raced back down. She took another bite of soup while she dialed April’s number.

“Hello?” April answered the unfamiliar number with a question in her voice, probably expecting a prospective renter for the cabins.

“Hey, it’s me, Ivy. I cancelled my other phone because Elliott kept calling it, so I’ve got this prepaid deal for now.” She waited for April to respond but heard only silence. “I’m sorry for getting angry earlier,” Ivy added.

“Glad to know you’re alive.” April’s voice was flat in response. Ivy knew she was still hurt over the way she left things.

“Sorry,” Ivy said again. She would have to rely on grace from her friend and play on her sympathies, hoping that deep down April understood why she pushed her away and fled. “After you told me about Elliott, I just … ran. I couldn’t put enough distance between us.”

“So you drove until the road ran out?” There was a hint of April’s humor.

Ivy envisioned herself doing that—just driving until the car dead-ended at the shore. “Something like that,” she said with a smile.

“But really? Going back to them? Was that really smart or just salt on the wound?” April had stood beside her when everything went wrong, championed her right to follow her heart, dried her tears, done everything a best friend should do—even though the two had really just met.

“I know it’s confusing. I’m confused too. I just know that there are some things I have to deal with here before I can face what’s going on there. It’s … unfinished business.”

“As long as that unfinished business isn’t named Michael.”

April wanted Ivy to be happy, but Elliott was still her
cousin. “No, nothing like that.” Was she lying? “It’s with my sister, my mom. The way we left it from before. The wedding’s brought it all back up again.”

“So you’re playing the role of dutiful daughter and loving sister and hoping that fixes it?”

“I guess.” She thought about exactly what she was doing there. And the truth was, she didn’t know. She was just taking the next step without knowing exactly what the destination was. Kind of like five years ago. Which wasn’t very wise, considering. “I’m going to help out my aunt Leah too. You remember you met her?”

“You always did have a way with frosting.” Though her responses weren’t effusive, Ivy could feel her friend softening the longer they talked.

“Yeah.” She grinned at the thought of having a job that didn’t involve spreadsheets and contracts. “And I’m helping with the wedding stuff.”

“Gonna carry her train for her?” April quipped. “Throw flower petals everywhere she walks?”

Ivy laughed. “I’m going to take care of the wishing tree.”