Ivy nodded, then picked up an old blanket from the car floor and gently laid it on top of Eric. "Angels-" she began, but she did not know what to ask for. "Help him," she said, and left the prayer at that. As she walked away she knew that a merciful angel of the dead was looking down on Eric, weeping-just as Beth had said.
"Despite what you say, Lacey, I'm glad I missed my own funeral," Tristan observed as the mourners gathered at Eric's graveside. Some of them stood solitary and stiff as soldiers; others leaned against each other for support and comfort.
Friday had dawned pale and drizzly. Several people raised umbrellas now, like bright nylon flowers blooming against the gray stones and misty trees. Ivy and Beth stood on either side of Will, bareheaded, letting the rain and tears run together. Suzanne stood with one arm around Gregory, staring down at the bristling grass.
Three times in five months the four of them had stood together at River stone Rise, and still the police asked only routine questions about the deaths.
"No luck?" Lacey called down from her perch in a tree.
Tristan grunted. "Gregory's built a wall around himself," he replied, and walked in frustrated circles around the elm. He had tried several times during the church service to get inside Gregory's head.
"Sometimes I think that the moment I approach him, he senses me. I think he knows something's up as soon as I get near him."
"Could be," Lacey said. Materializing her fingers, she swung from a branch, dropping down neatly beside him. "In angel matters, you're not exactly a smooth operator."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, let's put it this way. If you were stealing TVs instead of thoughts," she told him, "you'd have been caught by a half-deaf, mostly blind, fifteen-year-old dog three robberies ago."
Tristan was stung. "Well, give me two years to procrastinate," he retorted, "excuse me, I meant two years to practice, and I'll be as good as you."
"Maybe," Lacey said, then added with a smile, "I tried getting inside him, too. Impossible."
Tristan studied Gregory's face. He gave away nothing, his mouth an even line, his eyes focused straight ahead.
"You know," Lacey said, materializing the palm of her hand and holding it up to catch raindrops, "Gregory doesn't have to be responsible for everything bad that happens. You saw the report. The police found no signs of a struggle."
The coroner had listed Eric's death as a drug overdose. Eric's parents insisted it was an accident. At school it was rumored to be suicide.
Tristan believed it was murder.
"The report doesn't prove anything," he argued, pacing back and forth.
"Gregory didn't have to force-feed Eric. He could have bought him a heavy dose without telling him how powerful it was. He could have waited till Eric was too high to know better, then given him more. The reason the police aren't thinking murder, Lacey, is because they have no motive for it."
"And you do."
"Eric was ready to talk. He was ready to tell Ivy something."
"Aha! Then the chick was right," Lacey needled him.
"She was right," he admitted, though he was still angry with Ivy for trying to meet with Eric on Monday afternoon. She had called out to him at the very last minute, when it would have been too late for him to save her. Rushing to her side, Tristan had found her walking with Will away from the dangerous site. Will said he had followed Ivy that afternoon on a sudden hunch.
"Are you still feeling left out?" Lacey asked.
He didn't reply.
"Tristan, when is it going to sink in? We're dead," Lacey said. "And that's what happens when you're dead.
People forget to invite you along."
˜Tristan kept his eyes on Ivy. He wanted to be next to her, holding her hand.
"We're here to give a hand when we can and then let go," Lacey told him.
"We help, and then it's bye-bye." She waved both hands at him.
"Like I said before, Lacey, I hope you fall in love one day. I hope that before your mission's done, some guy teaches you how miserable it feels to love somebody and watch him reach out for someone else." Lacey stepped back.
"I hope you learn what it's like to say good-bye to someone you love more than that person will ever guess."
She turned her face away from him. "You just might get your wish," she said.
He glanced at her, surprised by her tone of voice. He didn't usually have to worry about hurting Lacey's feelings. "Did I miss something?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"What?" he asked. "What is it?" He reached for her face.
Lacey pulled away from him.
"You're missing the final prayer," she said. "We should pray with everyone else for Eric." Lacey folded her hands and looked extremely angelic.
Tristan sighed. "You pray in my place," he said.
"I don't have many good feelings toward Eric."
"All the more reason to pray," she replied. "If he doesn't rest in peace, he may be hanging out with us."
"Angels, take care of him. Let him rest in peace," Ivy prayed. "Help Eric's family," she said silently, and gazed back at Christine, Eric's older sister. She stood with her parents and brothers on the other side of the casket.
Several times during the service, Ivy had caught Christine looking at her. When their eyes met, the girl's mouth trembled a little, then became a long, soft line. Christine had Eric's pale blond hair and porcelain skin, but her eyes were a vibrant blue. She was beautiful-an uncomfortable reminder of what Eric might have been like if drugs and alcohol had not wasted his body and mind.
"Angels, take care of him," Ivy prayed again.
The minister concluded the service, and everyone turned away at the same time. Gregory's fingers brushed Ivy's. His hand was as cold as ice. She remembered how cold it had felt the evening the police told them of Caroline's death.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
He slipped his hand through hers and held her fingers tightly. The night Caroline had died, when he had done the very same thing, she had believed that he was finally reaching out to her.
"I'm okay," he said. "How about you?"
"Glad it's over," she answered honestly.
He studied her face, every centimeter of it. She felt trapped, anchored by his hand, his eyes invading her, reading her thoughts.