The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [165]
She sat on the ornate bench overlooking the cliffs, waiting, spinning a daisy stem between her thumb and index finger. To pass the time she started plucking petals, slow and deliberate, one at a time, kissing the loves me and eating the nots.
She ate a rose the same way.
And just as a cluster of lilacs appeared on her lap, Craig—clutching a fistful of tulips—asked what the hell was she doing?
“Petal roulette, of course.”
“Oh.” Like that made perfect sense to him. “Try these.”
His hand was empty when he held it out to her, but she was just as happy taking it as any flower he might offer. “What took you so long? I could have eaten a whole garden by now.”
“I waited to make sure you fell asleep. I didn’t want to come alone.” They walked hand in hand between the trees. “I don’t want to be alone. Ever again.”
“Okay.” She wrote that down in a memo pad.
They came upon the gazebo in the niche in the woods—faded, chipped, and unoccupied. Craig crumbled like a fragile house of cards. “It didn’t work. He isn’t here.”
“Sure it worked. We’re here. Together.” She pulled him toward the canopy. “He’s here somewhere.”
They looked everywhere, leaping from one side of the clearing to the other, bouncing off trees like ninja warriors, until Ivy arrived cliffside to peer over the edge. She was reluctant at first—afraid of what she might see, knowing now how Oliver had taken his own life. But she was quick to squash her qualms—better she looked than Craig.
“Don’t,” he said from behind her. She could feel him, unsteady and fearful, all around her in a tight embrace. “Stand back. Stay away from the edge. I can’t lose you, too.”
Smiling, she turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around him. With her head on his chest she listened to the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat and felt the heavy heaving of his chest as he fought his terror. “You won’t lose me. I promise. Try to remember we’re dreaming. We’re here together. We’re safe and—”
Yo ho ho! echoed in the wind. Ahoy, me maties. Arrrg. Thrilled, they both threw wide their arms as if to burst into song.
“Oliver!”
“He’s a pirate?”
“No, he’s a jerk,” she said, marching to the rim to take a look. Craig couldn’t make himself get closer or he, too, would have seen a near-grown man bobbing erratically on the waves in a wooden rubba-dub tub. “You know, if you were my brother, I’d push you off this cliff myself. Who do you think you are? Do you have any idea what you’ve put him through?”
You gotta love her.
She spun around to see the brothers picnicking on a black plaid blanket in the shade of the trees.
“I do.” Craig patted the blanket next to him, and she was suddenly seated next to him—frowning malevolently at Oliver. “So maybe we should talk about what you’ve been putting her through. Apologize maybe?”
I tried to tell you, bro. I wanted to keep it between the two of us but you wouldn’t listen to me. I couldn’t get through all the guilt and anger and . . . His expression changed to a humble gracelessness that Ivy found extremely endearing. And the pain, the sorrow. Thanks for that, man. Thanks for missing me.
“Oliver.” He became urgent, finally taking in who he was talking to—and how. It was an opportunity not likely to present itself again. “I love you. You’re my brother. I’ll always miss you. I’ll always be sorry I wasn’t there for you that night. I failed you. I’m sorry I—ooph.”
Oliver knocked him over, sat on his chest, and closed his mouth with his hand . . . and not too far away Ivy plucked a wildflower from the grass and popped it in her mouth—the taste was bright yellow.
No more sorrys! You got it? Don’t you see that you saved me? You gave me a reason to live, man. You gave me hope. He lost a little steam. I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m not, he said after a brief search of his soul. But I should be. I was so pissed off at everyone all the time. I let my anger rule my life for so long . . . I did a lot of stupid shit. I guess I can’t blame you for just assuming I jumped. Which I didn’t. But even if I