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.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to downplay this, but you’ve never had a remotely romantic situation with someone before, and that’s bound to make you feel things.”
“I’m not sure I’d call it romantic.”
Ivy laughs. “You swam with a mainlander by the light of the moon. You don’t think that’s romantic?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was,” I finally say. It was necessary and intense, terrifying and relieving. I don’t think it was romantic, but I get what Ivy is saying.
“Which brings me back to my last point. Say thank you, then never see him again. Get the closure you need so he is no longer a distraction. That’s the best you can hope for.”
Hope paves the way for wanting things that were never part of the plan.
“Okay. Never again,” I agree.
She studies my face, seemingly trying to figure out how serious I am, then nods as if she’s satisfied.
She changes the subject, talking about the tea shop and different brews she’s working on. Then, as we make our way back toward Main Street, she says, “Don’t hate me.”
“Oh no.”
“My parents want me to make a new blend… inspired by you and Landon… called Tandon.”
“Absolutely not,” I say, horrified.
“I told my parents you wouldn’t like it, but they insisted.”
“And what would you magic it with?”
“Excitement and peace,” she says. She lowers her voice and gets a mischievous look on her face. “But I’d add a drop of quiet defiance, just for you.”
“Excuse me, when have I ever been defiant?”
“You’re defiant every day when you quietly insist on walking the path your parents have laid out for you on your own terms. You’re defiant when you’re honest with Landon and when you go swimming in your nicest dresses.” She pauses. “And you’re definitely being defiant by making a boy named Wolfe a memory keeper.”
“I never said it was a memory keeper.” The spell I spoke earlier rushes back to my mind, and I blush.
“You may as well have,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.
I don’t admit to it, but she knows me too well.
We walk back into the shop, and I take off my jacket and head over to the wooden island to finish Wolfe’s cologne.
Dad pokes his head into the back. “I thought that was you. Honey, we’re going to have to postpone our restock date—I forgot about the council dinner your mother has tonight. Can we do it tomorrow instead?”
Ivy and I exchange a quick glance before I answer, “Sure, Dad, that works.”
“Great,” he says, slipping back into the store and letting the door swing shut behind him.
“Tana, you can never see him again after tonight. Give him your gift, get your closure, and make sure he’s on the last ferry out.”
I nod. She’s right, so right it makes my chest ache.
“Never,” she says.
“I know.”
She looks at me, head tilted to the side. “Good,” she finally says. Then she gives me a quick hug and leaves.
fifteen
I arrive at the western shore a few minutes before midnight. That’s how he told me to reach him: whisper his name into the wind at midnight. If he hears it, he will come.
I won’t pretend to understand the way his magic works, and there’s a part of me that worries he gave me false instructions just so I’d feel foolish whispering his name on the deserted beach.
And yet, when midnight arrives, I do exactly that. His name falls from my lips and drifts into the velvety black sky.
“Wolfe.”
I say it only once. I’m self-conscious enough already, whispering his name while holding the memory keeper I made for him. I know the evening we spent together didn’t carry the same weight for Wolfe as it did for me—he saved my life, and I will never forget it. But it also might be the only night that will ever be truly mine, a night off the path I’ve been walking my entire life.
I watch the waves as they roll onto the shore, and I’m suddenly overcome with an urge to rush into the sea, to call up the wind and float above the water by moonlight. I want to be cradled by the Earth’s breath and invite the retreating waves back to where I stand.
I pace along the beach, trying to fight the desire that’s rising within me. I stop when Wolfe’s words rush back into my mind.
What should scare you most about tonight isn’t that you’re about to use high magic, Mortana. What should scare you most is that you’re going to want to use it again.
I swallow hard and let the realization crawl beneath my skin: I want to practice dark magic again. I didn’t know it until I was back on this beach, standing in the same place as before, reminded so vividly of the magic that coursed through my veins. But Wolfe was right, and it terrifies me.
I made a mistake by coming here.
I shove the memory keeper into my pocket and walk back up the beach. I hurry to the road that will lead me to the safety of my large house and dark bedroom, my mother’s watchful eyes and Landon’s sea glass.
The road that will lead me firmly back to the path I’m destined to walk.
I exhale when my feet leave the unstable rocky beach and touch the secure, steady pavement.
But then I hear his voice.