Элизабет Чандлер - Soulmates

"Why are you putting the tissues by us and the brownies by you?" Ivy asked. She, Suzanne, and Beth were sprawled on the floor in the middle of her bedroom.

Beth quickly pulled the brownies closer to her sleeping bag. "Don't worry," she said to Ivy, "I've got the knife."

"Suzanne will use her fingernails," Ivy replied. "Keep the pan between us."

"Now, just a minute," Suzanne said, pursing her I lips. They were paler than their usual flame red. "For the last four days I have been thoughtful, caring, polite-" "And it's really getting to me," Ivy said. "I miss the old Suzanne…

I've missed her for more than the last four days," she added softly.

Suzanne's pouty face changed, and Ivy quickly reached out to touch her friend's hand.

"Uh-oh, tissue time," Beth said.

Each of them reached for one.

"I've cried off more mascara in the last four days," Suzanne complained.

"Let's hit the brownies," Ivy suggested, snatching the knife from Beth and cutting three large ones.

Beth trailed a finger along the inside of the pan, picking up big crumbs as well as her brownie, then grinned at Suzanne. "It's been ages since I've been to a sleepover."

"Me too," Ivy said.

"How long has it been since you've had a good night's sleep?" Suzanne asked Ivy, her eyes still watery.

Ivy moved closer to her friend and put her arm around her. "I told you, I slept all the way through last night."

The other nights had been more difficult for Ivy, but she hadn't had any nightmares. At odd times during the night she would awaken and glance around the room, as if her body, having been on alert for so long, was still conditioned to check that all was well. But the fear she had lived with day and night was gone now, and with it the dreams.

The police had arrived at the bridges almost immediately on Tuesday, Lieutenant Donnelly responding to Ivy's note and to an emergency call for help by Andrew. They found Gregory on the rocks in the river below and pronounced him dead at the scene. A little while later, Philip was released from the shack.

"How's Philip doing?" Beth asked.

"He looks okay," Suzanne observed.

"Philip sees the world the way a nine-year-old does," Ivy told them. "If he can explain things with a story, he's all right. He's made Gregory into a bad angel, and he believes good angels will always protect him from the bad, so he's okay-for now."

But Ivy knew that sooner or later her brother would be asking a lot of hard questions about how someone could act nice to him and still want to hurt him. He'd ask again for all the details.

By the time Ivy and Andrew left the police station Tuesday night, the facts of the case had been sketched out. The lieutenant said the police would inform the family of the girl in Ridgefield, as well as Eric's and Tristan's parents, regarding the further investigation of the case.

Later that evening the Reverend Mr. Carruthers, Tristan's father, came to the house. He stayed with Ivy and her family for several hours, and remained close by until the memorial service three days later, which he presided over. Now that it was over, both Andrew and Maggie looked fragile and worn, Ivy thought-haunted.

"Of course they do," Beth said, as if she had read Ivy's mind. "They've seen a side of Gregory that they never knew about, and it's horrifying.

They're just starting to understand what you've been through. It's going to take them a long time." "It's going to take us all a long time," Suzanne said, blinking back tears. Then she reached for the kitchen knife. "Do you think there are enough tissues and brownies?"

There's something different about her tonight, Tristan thought as he stared down at Lacey Saturday evening. He found her where he had first met her, lounging on his grave, one knee up, the other leg stretched straight out in front of her. Her spiked purple hair caught the moonlight, and her skin looked as pale as the marble she leaned against.

Her long nails gleamed dark purple. But there was something different about her.

In Lacey's face Tristan saw a wistfulness that made him hesitate before speaking to her, some touch of sadness that was new to her or that she usually kept well hidden.

"Lacey." She looked up at Tristan and blinked twice.

"What's up?" he said, sitting down next to her.

She stared at him and said nothing.

"What were you just thinking about?" he asked gently.

Lacey quickly looked down at her hands, touching fingertip to fingertip, frowning. When she glanced up again, she looked as if she were staring straight through him.

He felt uneasy. "Is something on your mind?"

"Have you been to Gregory's plot?" she asked.

"I just came from-" "Puh-lease, don't tell me he's winging around here," she interrupted, waving her hands dramatically. "I mean, I know Number One Director chooses the least likely, but that's pushing it just a little too far."

Tristan laughed, glad she was acting like herself again. "I haven't seen a sign of Gregory," he said.

"Everything's quiet by his grave and up on the ridge, too."

She dropped her hands. "You've been with Ivy."

"I've been there, but I can't reach her," he said. "Neither she nor Philip sees me, and I can't get inside either of their minds. I need your help, Lacey. I guess you're tired of hearing that, but I need you now more than ever."

She held up her hand, silencing him. "There's something I should tell you, Tristan."

"What?" he asked.

"I can't see you, either."

"What!"

"All I can see is a gold shimmer," Lacey explained, rising to her feet, "the same thing everyone else has been seeing when they look at you." She sighed. "Which means either I'm a living person again… brrrt!"

She made her obnoxious TV game show buzzer sound, only it was a halfhearted effort. "Or you're something angelic far beyond me."

"But I don't want to be!" he protested. "All I want to do is tell Ivy-" "I love you," Lacey said quickly. "I love you."

Tristan nodded. "Exactly. And that I love her so much I want her to find the love she was meant for."

Lacey turned away from Tristan.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"I dunno," she mumbled.

He reached for her to stop her from pacing, but his hand went right through her arm.

Lacey touched her arm where he had tried to grasp it. "You're way beyond me now," she said. "I can't even guess what's happening to you. Do you have any of your old powers?"

"When I came out of the darkness the last time, I had more powers than ever," Tristan replied. "I could project my voice like you. I could write by myself. I was strong enough to hold up Ivy and Will. Now I don't have the strength to do even simple things. How can I reach her?"

"Pray. Ask for another chance," Lacey said, "though reaching her one last time may take everything you have left."

"Is that how it's supposed to end?" Tristan asked.

"I don't know any more than you do!" Lacey snapped. "And you know how I hate to admit that," she added in a softer voice. "All you can do is pray and try. If-if you don't get through, I'll let her know you wanted to.

I'll deliver your message. And I'll check on her now and then-you know, give her some angelic advice."

When Tristan didn't say anything, Lacey said, "All right, so you don't want me giving your chick advice. I won't!"

"Please check on her," he said, "and give her all the advice you want. I trust you."

"You trust me-even if I advise her on love?" Lacey said, testing him.

"Even on love," he said, smiling.

"Not that I know anything about… love," she said.

Tristan eyed her curiously. Then he stood up to get a closer look.

"What?" Lacey said. "What?" She backed away from his probing light.

"That's it, isn't it?" he said with quiet wonder. "That's what you were thinking about when I found you.