Nathan Marsh
Some hours later, getting on toward three in the morning, Ivy wakes up with a start. She opens her eyes, and I can see the light dawn in them when she figures out where she is, and remembers why she is laying there curled up against my side, both of us still naked. She burrows closer to me for warmth and I feel her starting to drift off again.
“No, dear girl,” I say, gently shaking her shoulder. “Time for you to get into your own bed.” She opens her eyes again, rubs the sleep from them, and stretches. The ground of her circle is not the best for sleeping on, and honestly, I think that more than anything is what convinces her that she should get up.
Getting our clothing back from the other space where I had tucked them is easy, but the garments are unbelievably cold when they come back. I have to bundle Ivy’s clothes up and hold onto them for a few minutes to warm the up before she can get dressed. We walk, hand in hand, out of the wood together and toward the house. Emily is sitting in the den with the lights on, and watches us as we approach.
“You should go,” she says, turning toward me. She lifts herself up on tiptoes to kiss me. I gently embrace her, as we exchange a reasonably polite kiss. I want it to last a lot longer, knowing that what had just happened between us is most likely a singular occurrence, and that this may be the last lovers’ kiss – even if it is relatively chaste – that I will ever get from her. “I made this mess. I need to deal with it.”
I am not surprised when Emily opens the door, because I felt her moving across the house, but Ivy is startled, and jumps with a little yelp.
“Both of you, inside,” Emily says.
“I am not bound to obey you,” I say.
“Just, come in, Nathan,” Emily says. She seems more weary at the moment, exasperated, than upset or angry.
As Emily walks toward the den, Ivy says, “I really need a shower before we do any of this. Please?” I am very well aware that Ivy and I smell like we have just had very hot and sweaty sex, and judging by her posture, I suspect that is part of her current discomfort as well. But she also likely just needs it as a way to figuratively wash off the stress of the day, to reacclimate to the house and to the presence of her grandmother, and take a little time to gather her thoughts and her emotions together before what she suspects is going to be a very difficult conversation.
Emily nods her assent, and says to me, clear enough for Ivy to hear it as she heads upstairs, “You might as well clean up, too, Nathan. Looks like you two did a lot of running through the woods.”
I head for the smaller bathroom, off of the guest bedroom on the first floor of the house. The dresser and closet in that room have a few changes of clothes for Kate, Carl, and myself. I step into the shower, careful to not turn the hot water all the way on, as Ivy and I need to share. As I clean the delicious scent of Ivy’s body from mine, I can feel the water also extinguishing certain fires that had still been burning bright within me since Ivy first gave me that come hither look in her circle. The memories of her body do not fade as the physical evidence is washed away, but they seem to transform by the act from things I desire to do again, to something I did once and will always remember with warmth. I hope that Ivy’s feelings toward what we had done are making a similar shift, so she can go to Carl without being burdened by a continued fire for me.
The water upstairs is still running after I am dried off and dressed, I detour through the kitchen to pour a pitcher of water, take a large glass from the cabinet, and assemble a plate of fruit. I set these on the end table beside Ivy’s chair. Even without what she and I have just done, the poor girl has been through quite a lot in the last few hours, all of it emotionally intense and physical. She needs to eat and drink, to nourish her body and to help her center and ground herself.
“I will keep up the fiction that I suspect nothing,” Emily says, as I sit down. “As long as there are no lasting effects.”
It is clear that she is talking about what happened between Ivy and I in her circle, but I cannot tell whether Emily is upset with me or not. I can tell, but the way she is sitting and the tone of her words, that she wants absolutely no details.
I briefly consider letting her know that it was initiated completely by Ivy, that I had no thought of any such thing at the time, but feel if she is not upset at me, any attempt to explain my part in it will make her so. I content myself with just a simple nod of thanks.
“But you can tell me why you two are together right now. I didn’t think you knew where she was.”
“You know that I followed Carl,” I say. “You’ve talked to him within the last hour.”
“So where is Ben?”
“From what Ivy tells me of their last conversation, he is making a very fast escape from here, doing as much as he can to make sure he gets the Negre’s attention. He knows she is a witch now, and has implied that he knows something of the future, that it is a very, very bad thing for him to get involved with a witch. She knows I am a demon, now, by the way.”
“How?”
I laugh a little bit. “She asked me what my big scary secret was, so I told her.”
“She took it how?”
“Between Ben outing himself and Carl both, she seemed unsurprised. I think it would have troubled her if I were just a plain mortal and not something other, after the events of the past few weeks of her life.”
We both hear Ivy’s tread on the squeaky step of the staircase, and stop talking about her.
Ivy sits down, and quietly mouths, “Thank you,” to me as she pours herself a glass of water. I reach over to the plate of fruit, and she slides it a couple inches my way, taking a glance at me. We lock eyes for just a second, a silent agreement that we understand that what happened inside of her circle will not be repeated, but is not regretted. That is the best outcome possible for either of us in the current situation, so I smile to her. She smiles back, and starts to tell her grandmother the story of what happened the morning she vanished, and the events that have transpired right up until the moment she saw my car parked along the highway.
“And now here you are,” Emily says, to make it clear that she has no interest in that window of time between her getting into my car, and us walking into the house. “You must be exhausted, Ivy.”
“I am. I think I could sleep for a month right now.”
“And I should get home as well, before my family knows I’ve been out all night again.”
Ivy hugs us and heads upstairs.
Emily walks me to the door. “Her feelings about Carl?” she asks quietly.
“She told me that her time with Ben made her realize what she had in Carl, and I think she looks forward to seeing him again soon. I have done my part for the piece of the future you have burdened me with, and I have not yet suffered any misfortune for it. Do not ever lay another such weight upon me again.” I make sure she understands that last part is not a request.
“I shouldn’t have, I know,” she says. “Please understand how much else I have not told you, and how much I am continuing to keep to myself.”
I can see genuine contrition in her eyes. This softens my temper, and I say, “I appreciate that. Thank you.”