We work in silence, and it’s the first time I’ve felt truly at peace in days, my thoughts quieting and my shame fading with each grind of the pestle. Dad hums to himself, and I work the grass in time to the melody. We look up in unison when the back door opens.
Ivy walks in with three cups of tea. “I come bearing gifts.”
“A true hero,” I say.
“I’ve got Energize, Persist, and Invigorate.”
“I’ll take Persist.” Ivy hands me a cup, and steam rises in front of me.
“I’ll take Energize,” Dad says. Ivy sets the tea down on the island next to his mortar. “Thanks, Ivy. You’re a lifesaver. Tana, why don’t you take a little break? You’ll be here all night.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’ll take this out to Ingrid, though she hardly needs it.” He winks at me, then grabs the last cup and walks out into the main store.
“Do you have time to take a break with me, or do your parents need you back at the shop?” I ask Ivy.
“We just got through the midday rush. I’m fine for a few minutes,” she says. “Want some fresh air?”
“As long as we don’t go down Main, yes.”
She holds the back door open for me, and we walk down the path and onto a trail in the surrounding woods.
“What kind of perfume were you making back at the shop? I haven’t seen that combination before,” Ivy says, and my cheeks flush. I don’t say anything and stare intently at the dirt path in front of me.
“What?” Ivy asks.
“It’s nothing,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “Just a small token for Wolfe.”
Ivy stops and raises an eyebrow. “Wolfe?”
“The boy I met on the beach.”
“So he has a name,” she says, a slight pull to her lips.
“Of course he has a name.”
She holds her hands up in defense, and we start walking again.
“What kind of token are you making?”
Embarrassment makes me look away again. “A cologne made from scents of our night together.”
“Oh, Tana,” Ivy says, her voice sad. “That’s a lovely gift. But it’s…” She struggles to find the right word.
“Do you think it’s too much? I’m not really sure what the etiquette is on thank-you gifts.”
Ivy shakes her head, then looks me in the eye. “I think it’s dangerous.”
The words make my heart race, make dread stir in my stomach, and I force the feeling away and keep my voice even. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Ivy doesn’t seem fazed, and she loops her arm through mine.
“This boy could break your heart,” she says.
“Break my heart?” I ask, laughing. “It’s just a gift.”
“Is it?” she asks.
“Of course.” I want to tell Ivy that he saved my life, that giving him something in return is the least I can do.
We’re both quiet for a while, the sounds of our footfalls on the soft earth and the leaves rustling in the autumn breeze filling the air between us.
“You want him to remember you,” Ivy says, looking at me with a mix of pity and understanding and sadness, and it frustrates me, seeing those things reflected back at me. I’m stung by her words because it’s such a ridiculous thing, but the way my face heats when she says them tells me she’s right. She’s right, and I hate it.
“You don’t need to ascribe meaning where there is none,” I say, defensiveness rising inside me. “He helped me with something, and I just want to say thank you. That’s all.”
Ivy watches me, considering my words. “How will you even find him?”
“He told me the next time he’ll be on the island,” I lie, and I’m disgusted by how easily it rolls off my tongue.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she finally says. I’m about to argue when she speaks again. “But you clearly haven’t moved on from this, and seeing him once more might give you the closure you need.”
“I don’t need closure,” I say.
“Then why do you want to see him?”
I sigh, and Ivy wraps her arm around my shoulders, leaning her head against mine. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need closure.
“Listen, if you want to give him a gift, give him a gift. Say whatever it is you need to say, then never see him again.”
“You’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it is,” I say, needing the words to be true.