Ivy of Our Hearts

Thirty-seven

I stood, all covered in dirt, and went inside. Phillip turned in his sleep but didn't wake. I thought of waking him. I thought of screaming her name, so he'd startle out of his sleep, thinking that she'd come back to him, a pale ghost of the woman she had been. I'd like to hear him weep as I had. I'd like him to think she haunted him.

I stood over him, listening to his steady intake of breath. If he were to open his eyes now, maybe he'd mistake me for her before he realized it was me in a dirty nightgown, Ivy of his heart. I turned away and went into the bedroom. The light was on. Margaret sat up in bed. Her eyes grew wide when she saw me.

I waited for her to say something, but her mouth hung open. A gasp emitted from it. She gawked at me as if I were the crazy one, not him, not the monster who'd taken us for himself.

I stepped closer to the bed. My movement snapped her out of her trance. "Ivy," she said, as if I was unrecognizable underneath all the dirt.

I had to tell her now. I took the ribbons out from underneath my pillow, dirtying the sheets. I doubted Nora would mind though wherever she was. "He isn't who he says he is, Margaret," I said in the smallest voice. I should have said, "He isn't what we think he is."

I held the ribbons out to her. She didn't take them right away. Her mouth hung open again and this time no sound emitted from it.

"He lied to us," I said. "I saw for myself." I came closer to her, climbing up onto the bed, ruining the sheets.

She shrunk away from me. I extended my hands; the ribbons lay like dead things in them. They were as worn as I felt.

Margaret took them, like I'd offered her something alive and fragile. She held them in her hands as I did. I saw realization come across her face. The tears came; angry tears that made her eyes swell. I wrapped my arms around her, and she leaned into me.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked. "You should have told me," she said. She pulled away from me and tossed the ribbons to the floor where they looked even more dismal.

"I didn't know how," I said.

She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown. "How are we going to get away from him, Ivy?" she whispered.

We hadn't been whispering before, but this wasn't something we could say out loud in case he was awake in the other room. I'd left the door open.

"I've been marking the trees," I said into her ear. "But I haven't found a way. He knows the woods better than we do, Margaret." What she'd said to me on the night we entered the woods replayed in my mind. It's like we were in another world, but Simon found his way here, so there must have been some way to get out.

As if she'd forgotten I was covered in dirt, she asked, "What did you do?"

Outside, the dull, gray light now took on a bluish tinge. I kept my eyes on the window as I said, "I dug up Nora's grave. It's empty." Phillip would see I'd dug up the grave and his response wouldn't be pleasant.

He'd been angry when we'd try to leave before. What would he do now? Would he lock us away inside of this room? The thought terrified me. I got out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Margaret asked.

Near the foot of the wardrobe were our backpacks. I opened hers and took out the stuffed bunny. "Here," I said, tossing it to her. She caught it and held it to her chest. I hoped she smelled home on her brother's toy. It was better to have faith than none at all.

***

We went through the motions of the day like it was any other. We had the breakfast he'd made. Margaret cleared the table after and I washed the dishes. As I did, I hummed the song on the radio. I'd glance at Phillip to make sure we were still one step ahead of him. I'd given Manderley my last letter the other day, but now that Margaret knew the truth, I couldn't stand to spend my time waiting anymore. We had to go.

Any moment now, Phillip would walk outside and find the grave. I'd follow him. I'd ask him why. Any moment now, he'd realize we were no longer under his spell. This time, though, we'd be ready. I'd felt it before, his hold on me, so I'd be able to fight it. He would never have my heart again. I turned off the faucet and shook the water from my hands.

There was nothing left to do but wait.

The time came around noon. Phillip tugged on his coat and said, "I'll be back in a second."

"Wait," I said, arm outstretched. I looked to Margaret. Margaret looked to me. I needed him to see the grave. "How far are you going?" I asked.

"Not far," he said. He already had the door open. "Why?"

I got off the couch where Margaret and I had been going through Nora's photo album, searching for hints of what happened to her, but pretending we were interested in the photos themselves. We'd found nothing.

"I think an animal got into the yard last night," I said. "I heard it. I think it got into the grave. Right, Margaret?"

She nodded. "I heard it."

This got his attention. He hurried out of the door. I followed him. Margaret followed, too. At the grave, Phillip dropped to his knees with his face buried in his hands; a noise like a groan came from him.

The grave was as empty as it had been before. I folded my arms across my chest because of the chill and because I needed him to know that I had nothing to fear from him now. He took his hands away from his face, and I saw that the noise had been him weeping.

"I'm sorry," he said, rising to his feet.

"You're sorry," I said. He stepped towards me and I stepped back.

He reached his hand out for me. "Ivy, please. You don't understand." The closer he came towards me the farther I moved away from him. "She'd begun to lose her mind and I couldn't help," he said. "Margaret?" He turned to her.

I drew in the chilly air through my mouth. It made me cold and unfeeling towards anything he had to say.

"She was old. She'd wandered off in the night," he said. He bit his lip, waiting for us to say something. When we didn't, he said, "I didn't know how else to move on." He pointed at the grave.

Margaret looked away from him. "You lied to us," she said, gazing into the distance. I couldn't tell at what. "You made us believe you." She whirled on him, her eyes shining, fervent. "You are poison," she said. "Selfish and cowardly. You took us from our homes, from our parents. Who do you think you are?"

Phillip didn't say anything. He dropped the hand he'd had pointing at the grave and dug into his pocket. He pulled out something yellow.

My letter.

I took Margaret's hand and held on to her tight. "Let us go home"

"I'm sorry," he said, tossing my letter into the grave. "But I can't let you go." Manderley swooped down from the sky. She landed on his shoulder. He slanted his head, and I saw the resemblance between them, in the sharp tip of his nose. They were both monsters. "I hope you understand," he said. "This is our home. You belong here with me and Manderley. Now I'm going in and I suggest you do, too. You wouldn't want to get lost out here." With Manderley on his shoulder, he stalked past us into the cabin.

Distraught, Margaret clung to me. I clung to her.