lizabeth sat at the glass table in the spotless kitchen, surrounded by gleaming granite work tops, polished walnut cupboards, and shining marble tiles. She had just had a cleaning frenzy and her mind still wasn't clear. Every time the phone rang, she leaped at it, thinking it was Saoirse, but it was Edith checking up on Luke. She still hadn't heard from her sister, her father was still waiting in her old bedroom for her mother; sitting, eating, and sleeping in the same chair for almost two weeks now. He wouldn't speak to Elizabeth, wouldn't even let her come as far as the front door, so she had arranged for a housekeeper to call around to cook him a meal a day, and tidy up now and then. Some days he let her in, others he didn't. The young man who worked with her father on his farm had taken over all the duties. This was costing Elizabeth money she couldn't afford, but there was nothing else she could do. She couldn't help the only two members of her family if they didn't want to be helped. And she wondered for the first time if she had something in common with them after all.

They had all grown up together but separately and still they stayed together in the same town. They hadn't much communication with one another but when somebody left...well, it mattered. They were tied together by an old and fraying rope that ended up being the object of tug-of-war.

Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to tell Luke what was going on, but of course he knew there was something. Ivan was right, children had a sixth

sense for that kind of thing. He was such a good child that as soon as he sensed Elizabeth's sadness, he knew to retreat into the playroom and she would hear the quiet clatter of building blocks. She couldn't bring herself to say more to him than to tell him to wash his hands, fix his speech, and order him to stop dragging his feet.

She wasn't capable of holding her arms out to him. Her lips couldn't form the words "I love you," though she tried in her own ways to make him feel safe and wanted. But she knew what he really wanted. She had been in his position, knew what it was like to want to be held, cuddled, kissed on the forehead, and rocked. To be made to feel safe for just a few minutes at least, to know that someone else was there looking out for you and that life wasn't just in your own hands—you weren't stuck living it all alone in your head.

Ivan had provided her with a few of those moments over the past few weeks. He had kissed her on the forehead and rocked her to sleep and she had fallen asleep not feeling alone, not feeling the urge to look out the window and search beyond for someone else. Ivan, sweet, sweet Ivan was shrouded in mystery. She had never known anyone else who could help her realize just exactly who she was, help her find her feet. But she was struck by the irony that this man who jokingly spoke of invisibility actually did wear a cloak of invisibility. He didn't know himself, where he came from, where he was going, who he was. He was putting her on a map, showing her the way, yet he had no idea where he was going himself. He liked to speak of her problems, help heal her, help fix her, and he never once spoke of his own. It was as though she was a distraction to him and she wondered what would happen when the distraction ended and the realization would dawn.

She got a sense that their time together was valuable, as though she needed to hold on to every minute as if it were their last. He was too good to be true, every moment spent with him magical, so much so that she presumed this couldn't last forever. None of her good feelings had lasted for-ever, none of the people who lightened her life managed to stay. Going by her previous luck, from pure fear of not wanting to lose something so special, she was just waiting for the day he would leave. Whoever he was, he was healing her, he was teaching her to smile, teaching her to laugh, and she wondered what she could teach him. With Ivan, she feared that the sweet man with the soft eyes would reach a day when he would realize that she had nothing to offer. That she had simply drained him of his resources and had none to give.

It had happened with Mark. She just couldn't give him any more of herself without taking away the care she had for her family. That's what he wanted her to do, of course, cut the strings that connected her to her family, but she couldn't do it, she would never do it. Saoirse and her father knew how to pull those strings and so she remained their puppet. As a result, she was alone, raising a child she never wanted with the love of her life living in America a married man and a father of one. She hadn't heard from him or seen him for five years. A few months after Elizabeth had moved back to Ireland he visited her, while on a trip home to see his family.

Those beginning months were the hardest. Elizabeth was intent on making Saoirse bring up the baby herself and as much as Saoirse protested and claimed she didn't care, Elizabeth wasn't about to let her sister throw away the opportunity of raising her son.

Elizabeth's dad couldn't hack it anymore, he couldn't take the baby's screaming all night while Saoirse was out partying, Elizabeth supposed it reminded him too much of the years before, when he was left holding the baby, the baby he subsequently passed on to his twelve-year-old daughter. Well, he'd done the same again; he'd thrown Saoirse out of the bungalow, forcing her to arrive on Elizabeth's doorstep, cradle and all. The day that all had happened was the day Mark decided to take the trip over to visit Elizabeth.

One look at the state of her life and she knew he was gone forever. It wasn't long before Saoirse disappeared from Elizabeth's home, leaving her holding the baby. She thought about giving Luke up for adoption, she really did. Every sleepless night and every stressful day she promised herself she would make that phone call. But she couldn't do it. Maybe it had something to do with her fear of giving in; she obsessively strove for perfection and she couldn't give up on trying to help Saoirse. Also there was a part of her that was intent on proving that she could raise a child, that it wasn't her fault the way Saoirse turned out. She didn't want to get it all wrong with Luke; he deserved far better.

She cursed as she picked up another of her sketches, scrunched it in a ball, and threw it across the room to the bin. It landed short of it and, not being able to cope with something out of place, Elizabeth walked across the room and delivered it to its rightful position.

The kitchen table was covered in paper, coloring pencils, children's books, cartoon characters. All she had succeeded in doing was drawing doodles all over the page. It wasn't enough for the playroom and it certainly wasn't the whole new world she aspired to create. As usual, the same thing happened that always happened when she thought of Ivan; the doorbell rang and she knew it was he. She rushed to her feet, fixing her hair, her clothes, checking her reflection in the mirror, gathering her coloring pencils and paper. She jogged on the spot in a panic, trying to decide where to dump them. They slid from her hand, and swearing, she dived down to pick them up. Her papers flew out of her hands and floated to the floor like leaves diving and landing in the autumn breeze.

While on the floor, her eyes fell upon red Converse runners casually crossed over each other at the doorway. Her body slumped, her cheeks pinked.

"Hi, Ivan," she said, refusing to look at him.

"Hello, Elizabeth. Have you ants in your pants?" an amused voice asked.

"How good of Luke to let you in," Elizabeth said sarcastically. "Funny, he never actually does that when I need him to." She reached for the sheets of paper on the floor and got to her feet. "You're wearing red," she stated, studying his red cap, red T-shirt, and red Converse trainers.

"Yes, I am," he agreed. "Wearing different colors is my favorite thing now. It makes me feel even happier."

Elizabeth looked down at her black outfit and thought about that.

"So, what have you got there?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Oh, nothing," Elizabeth mumbled, folding the pages together.

"Let me see it." He grabbed the sheets. "What have we got here? Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse." He flicked through the pages. "Winnie-the-Pooh, a racing car, and what's this?" He twirled the page around to get a better view.

"It's nothing," Elizabeth snapped, snatching the page from his hand.

"That's not nothing, nothing looks like this." He stopped talking and stared at her blankly.

"What are you doing?" she asked after a few minutes of silence. "Nothing, see?" He held out his hands.

Elizabeth stepped away from him, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes you are worse than Luke. I'm going to have a glass of wine, would you like anything? Beer, wine, brandy?"

"A ssalg of klim, please."

"I wish you'd stop speaking backward," she snapped, handing him a glass of milk. "For a change?" she asked irritatedly, throwing her pages into the bin.

"No, that's what I always have," he said rather perkily, eyeing her suspiciously. "Why is that cabinet locked?"

"Em..." She faltered. "So Luke can't get at the alcohol," she explained, not mentioning anything about the fact that it was to keep Saoirse away. Luke had taken to hiding the key in his room whenever he heard his mother coming.

"Oh. What are you doing on the twenty-ninth?" He swung himself around on the tall bar stool at the breakfast table and watched her rooting through the wine bottles, face twisted in concentration.

"When is the twenty-ninth?" She locked the cabinet and searched through the drawer for a corkscrew.

"It's on Saturday."

Her cheeks pinked and she looked away, giving her full concentration to opening the wine bottle. "I'm going out on Saturday."

"Where to?"

"A restaurant."

"With who?"

She felt like it was Luke firing questions at her. "I'm meeting Benjamin West," she said, still keeping her back turned. She just couldn't face turning around right at that moment and she didn't know why she felt so uncomfortable.

"Why are you meeting him on Saturday? You don't work on Saturdays," Ivan stated.

"It's not about work, Ivan, he doesn't know anybody here and we're going to get something to eat." She poured the red wine into the crystal glass.

"Eat?" he asked incredulously. "You're going to eat with Benjamin?" His voice went up a few octaves.

Elizabeth's eyes widened and she spun around, glass in hand. "Is that a problem?"

"He's dirty and he smells," Ivan stated.

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open; she didn't know how to reply to that. "He probably eats with his hands. Like an animal," Ivan continued, "or a caveman, half man, half animal. He probably hunts for—" "Stop it, Ivan." Elizabeth started laughing. He stopped.

"What's really wrong?" She raised her eyebrow at him and sipped her wine.

He stopped spinning on his chair and stared at her. She stared back. She saw him swallow, his Adam's apple moving down his throat. His childishness disappeared and he appeared to her as a man, big, strong, with such a presence. Her heartbeat quickened, his eyes didn't move from her face and she couldn't look away, couldn't move. "Nothing's wrong."

"Ivan, if you've got anything to say to me, you should say it," Elizabeth said firmly. "We're big boys and girls now." The corners of her lips smiled at that.

"Elizabeth, would you come out with me on Saturday?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Ivan, it would be rude of me to cancel the appointment at such short notice, can't we go out another night?"

"No," he said, stepping off the stool. "It has to be July twenty-ninth. You'll see why."

"I can't—"

"You can," he interrupted her. He took her by her elbows. "You can do whatever you want. Meet me at Cobh Ciuin at eight p.m. on Saturday." "Cobh Ciuin?!"

"You'll see why," he repeated, tipped his cap, and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Before I left the house, I called in to Luke in the playroom. "Hey there, stranger," I said, collapsing on the beanbag. "Hi, Ivan," Luke said, watching TV. "Have you missed me?" "Nope." Luke smiled. "Wanna know where I've been?"

"Smooching with my aunt." Luke closed his eyes and did fake kisses in the air before collapsing into hysterical laughter.

My mouth dropped open. "Hey! What makes you say that?!" "You love her." Luke laughed and continued watching cartoons. I thought about that for a while. "Are you still my friend?" "Yep," Luke replied. "But Sam is my best friend." I pretended to be shot in the heart.

Luke looked away from the television to face me with big, hopeful blue eyes. "Is my aunt your best friend now?"

I thought about that carefully. "Do you want her to be?" Luke nodded his head emphatically.

"Why?"

"She's much better fun, she doesn't give out to me as much, and she lets me color in the white room."

"Jinny Joe Day was fun, wasn't it?"

Luke's eyes widened and he nodded. "I've never seen her laugh so much."

"Does she give you big hugs and play lots of games with you?" Luke looked at me like that was a ridiculous idea and I sighed, worried about the small part of me that felt relieved.

"Ivan?" "Yes, Luke."

"Remember you told me that you can't stay around all the time, that you have to go to help other friends and so I shouldn't feel sad?" "Yes." I swallowed hard. I dreaded that day.

"What will happen to you and Aunt Elizabeth when that happens?" And then I worried about the part in the center of my chest that pained when I thought about that.

I stepped into Opal's office, hands in my pockets and wearing my new red T-shirt and a new pair of blackjeans. Red felt good on me today because I was angry. I didn't like the tone in Opal's voice when she called me.

"Ivan," she said, putting down her feather pen and staring at me. Gone was her beaming smile that once used to greet me. She looked tired, bags hung under her eyes, and her dreadlocks were down around her face and not in one of her usual styles.

"Opal." I imitated her tone, throwing one leg over the other as I sat before her.

"What are the things you teach your students about becoming a part of your new friend's life?"

"Assist don't hinder, support don't oppose, help and listen don't—"

"You can stop right there." She raised her voice and cut in on my bored tones. "Assist and don't hinder, Ivan." She allowed those words to hang in the air. "You made her cancel a dinner reservation with Benjamin West. She could have made a friend, Ivan." She stared at me, her black eyes like coal. Any more anger and they would have gone on fire.

"Can I remind you that the last time Elizabeth Egan made a date with anyone for non-business purposes was five years ago. Five years ago, Ivan," she stressed. "Can you tell me why you undid all that?"

"Because he's dirty and he smells." I laughed.

"Because he's dirty and he smells," she repeated, making me feel stupid. "Then let her figure that out for herself," Opal said. "Don't overstep your mark, Ivan." With that she looked back down at her work and continued writing, the feather blowing as she scribbled furiously.

"What's going on, Opal?" I asked her. "Tell me what's really going on?"

She looked up, anger and sadness in her eyes. "We are incredibly busy, Ivan, and we need you to work as quickly as you can and move on instead of hanging around and undoing the good work you've already done. That's what's going on."

Stunned by her chastising, I silently left her office. I didn't believe her for one minute, but whatever was going on in her life was her own business.

She'd change her mind about Elizabeth canceling her dinner with Benjamin as soon as she saw what I had planned for the twenty-ninth. "Oh, and Ivan," Opal's voice called out.

I stopped at her doorway and turned around. She was still looking down and writing as she spoke. "I'll need you to come in here next Monday to take over for a while."

"Why?" I asked with disbelief.

"I'm not going to be here for a few days, I need you to cover for me."

That had never happened before. "But I'm still in the middle of a job."

"Good to hear you're still calling it that," she snapped. Then she sighed, put down her feathered pen, and looked up. Her eyes were tired and she looked like she was going to cry. "I'm sure Saturday will be such a success you won't need to be there next week, Ivan."

Her voice was so soft and genuine that I forgot that I was angry at her and realized for the first time that if it were any other situation, she would be right.