ome on," Elizabeth shouted, pounding on her horn, to the two coaches inching by each other slowly on the main street of Baile na gCroithe. It was September and the last of the tourists were passing through the town; after this the busy village would return to its usual silence, like a banquet hall the morning after a party, leaving the locals to tidy up and remember the events and people that came through. The students would be heading back to college in the neighboring counties and towns and the locals would once again be alone to struggle with their businesses.

Elizabeth held her hand down on her horn and blasted it at the coach before her. A sea of foreign faces turned around in the back of the bus to glare at her. Beside her, the locals spilled out of the church, after attending morning mass. Taking advantage of the glorious sunny day, they gathered around in groups on the street, chatting and catching up on the week's events. They too turned to stare at the source of the angry beeping, but she didn't care, she was following no rules today, she was desperate to get to Joe's as she knew he at least could admit to seeing Ivan and her together, putting an end to this cruel and bizarre joke.

Too impatient to wait for the coaches to pass each other, leaving the car in traffic, she jumped out and ran across the road to the cafe.

"Joe!" she called, charging in through the door. She couldn't keep the panic out of her voice.

"Ah, there ye are, just the woman I was lookin' for." Joe stepped out from the kitchen. "I want to show ye my new fancy machine. It's—"

"I don't care," she butted in breathlessly. "I've no time. Just please answer me this question. You remember me being in here with a man a few times, don't you?"

Joe looked up to the ceiling in thought, feeling important.

Elizabeth held her breath.

"Aye, I do."

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god." She laughed, a little too hysterically.

"Now could you pay attention to me new device," he said proudly. "It's a brand-new coffee makin' machine. Makes these espressos and cap'chinos and all." He picked up the espresso cup. "Sure that would only hold a drip. Brings a whole new meanin' to the phrase 'hot drop.'"

Elizabeth laughed, so happy about the news about Ivan and the coffee, she could have jumped over the counter and kissed him.

"So where is this man?" Joe asked, trying to figure out how to make Elizabeth an espresso.

Elizabeth's smile faded. "Oh, I don't know."

"Gone back to America, is he? Sure, doesn't he live there in New York? The Big Apple, don't they call it. I've seen it on the telly and if you ask me it looks nothin' like an apple at all."

Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest. "No Joe, not Benjamin. You're thinking of Benjamin."

"The fella you had drinks with in here a few times," Joe confirmed.

"No." Elizabeth's anger rose. "Well, yes I did. But I'm talking about the other man who was with me here. Ivan is his name. I-v-a-n," she repeated slowly.

Joe made a face and shook his head. "Don't know an Ivan." "Yes, you do," she said rather forcefully.

"Listen here." Joe took off his reading glasses and put down the manual. "I know just about everyone in this town and I don't know an Ivan nor have I ever heard of one."

"But, Joe," Elizabeth pleaded. "Please think back." Then she remembered. "The day we splashed coffee all around outside." She laughed. "That was Ivan."

"Oh." Joe smiled. "Part of the German crowd, was he?"

"No!" Elizabeth shouted in frustration.

"Well, where's he from?" Joe asked, trying to calm her.

"I don't know," she said angrily.

"Well what's his surname, then?" he asked.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "I-I-I don't know that either."

"Sure, then how can I help you at all if you don't know his surname or where he's from? It doesn't sound much like you know him either. As far as I remember, you were dancin' around out there on your own like a mad-woman, don't know what got into you that day, at all."

Elizabeth suddenly had an idea, grabbed her car keys from the counter, and ran out the door.

"But what about your hot drop?" he called, as she slammed the door behind her.

"Benjamin," Elizabeth called out, banging her car door shut and running across the gravel to him. He was standing among a group of builders, crowding around and hunched over documents that were spread across a table. They all looked up at her.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She was breathless and her hair danced around her face from the strength of the wind at the top of the hill.

"Sure," he said, stepping away from the silent group and leading her to a quieter area. "Is everything OK?"

"Yes." She nodded uncertainly. "I just want to ask you a question, is that OK?"

He braced himself.

"You've met my friend Ivan, right?" She cracked her knuckles and shuffled from foot to foot, in anticipation of his answer.

He adjusted his hard hat, studied her face, and waited for her to laugh or tell him she was joking, but no smile hid behind those dark and worried eyes. "Is this a joke?"

She shook her head and chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, brow furrowed.

He cleared his throat. "Elizabeth, I don't really know what you want me to say."

"The truth," she said quickly. "I want you to tell me the truth. Well, I want you to tell me you've seen him, but I want that to be the truth, you see." She swallowed.

Benjamin studied her face some more and eventually shook his head slowly.

"No?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head again.

Her eyes filled and she looked away quickly.

"Are you OK?" He reached out to touch her arm, but she swayed her body away. "I assumed you were joking about him," Benjamin said gently, slightly confused.

"You didn't see him at the meeting with Vincent?"

He shook his head.

"At the barbecue last week?"

Another shake.

"Walking through the town with me? In the playroom that day when that, that... thing was written on the wall?" she asked hopefully, her voice full of emotion.

"No, I'm sorry," Benjamin said kindly, trying to hide his confusion as best he could.

She looked away again, turned her back on him to face out toward the view. From this point, she could see the sea, the mountains, and the neat little village tucked away in the bosom of the valley.

Finally, she spoke. "He was so real, Benjamin."

He didn't know what to say, so he remained silent.

"You know when you can feel someone with you? And even though not everyone believes in that person, you know they're there?"

Benjamin thought about it and nodded understandingly, even though she couldn't see him. "My granddad died and we were close." He kicked at the gravel self-consciously. "My family never agreed on much, they never believed much in anything, but I knew he was there with me at times. You knew Ivan well?"

"He knew me better." She laughed lightly.

Benjamin heard her sniff and she wiped her eyes.

"So was he a real person? Did he pass away?" Benjamin asked, feeling confused.

"I just believed so much..." She trailed off. "He's really helped me over the past few months." She looked around at the view for another moment in silence. "I used to hate this town, Benjamin." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I used to hate every single blade of grass on every hill, but he taught me so much. He taught me that it's not the job of this town to make me feel happy. It's not Baile na gCroithe's fault that I don't feel I fit in. It doesn't matter where you are in the world, because it's about where you are up here." She touched the side of her head lightly. "It's about the other world I inhabit. The world of dreams, hope, imagination, and memories. I'm happy up here." She tapped her temple again and smiled. "And because of that, I'm happy up here too." She held out her arms and displayed the countryside around her. She closed her eyes and allowed the wind to dry her tears. Her face was softer when she turned to Benjamin. "I just thought it was important for you of all people to know that." Quietly and slowly she headed back to her car.

Leaning against the old tower, Benjamin watched her walk away. He hadn't known Elizabeth as well as he'd liked, but he had an idea she'd let him into her life more than she'd let others. Likewise, he had done the same. They'd had enough conversations for him to see how similar they really were. He'd seen her grow and change and now his unsettled friend had settled. He stared out to the view Elizabeth had been looking at for so long and for the first time in the year he'd been here, he opened his eyes and saw it.

In the early hours of the morning Elizabeth sat up in her bed, wide awake. She looked around the room at the time, three forty-five, and when she spoke aloud to herself, her voice was firm and confident. "To hell with you all, I do believe."

She threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, almost imagining the sound of Ivan howling with laughter in celebration.