Read Online The Wishing Tree by Marybeth Whalen - Free Book Online

she focused on the alternative of staying and dealing with Elliott, her “pilgrimage” sounded better and better.
    After lunch she joined the stream of cars on the highway. Six hours later, just after dinnertime, she pulled into the driveway of her mother’s house on 40th Street—the last street on Sunset Beach before Bird Island, a stretch of state-protected coastline, began. Behind the houses on 40th Street lay marsh and, beyond that, the windswept, undisturbed coastline.
    She stepped out and closed the car door, stretching her cramped legs and inhaling the beach air, the smell of the sea filling her nose. She couldn’t believe she’d denied herself the pleasure of returning for so long. She twisted her wedding ring around on her left ring finger, thinking of why she’d stopped coming, and decided then and there that that had been a mistake.
    Her eyes flickered over to the house next door. She half-expected to see two blond boys peering back at her from the front porch, eyes dancing as they concocted their next scheme that would land them all in trouble. She smiled. Whether it was putting crabs in unsuspecting relatives’ beach chairs or peeing off the deck, Michael and Owen had always seemed to know how to stir up some trouble. She looked away. With the wedding coming up, she could bet that Owen was staying there, and his parents too.
    That had been the draw, once upon a time. Owen and his cousin Michael, the next-door neighbors every summer who became playmates for Ivy and Shea. And then they became much much more. Her heart beat a little faster as she dared to wonder if she would see Michael, when she would see Michael. At the wedding, surely. And probably at the rehearsal dinner beforehand.
    She surveyed the front of the house, taking in the changes that had happened while she was away. Wind and salt air had weathered the house, which needed a new paint job. And her mother must’ve given up gardening because there were no flowers lining the walkway to the house anymore. She walked around to the other side of the car and retrieved her purse, checked her cell phone, switched to silence afterElliott had called more than once. There was a voicemail from him. She deleted it without listening. Whatever he had to say, she wasn’t ready to hear it.
    “Ivy!” She looked up to see her mom waving from the front porch. She slipped the phone into her purse and stood up, waved back, pasted on a grin that she hoped passed for authentic. Her job for the next few weeks was to focus on the wedding and keep everyone else focused on it as well, avoiding questions about Elliott until she was ready to talk about it, which might be never. She pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and headed to the house where her mom waited.
    “So glad you made it!” her mom hollered.
    She put her foot on the stairs and gripped the railing, focusing on her mother’s face and how nice it was to see her looking happy to see her. “Me too, Mom. Me too,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.
    Ivy sat across from her mother, drawing lines in the condensation on the glass of Diet Coke her mother had poured her when they went inside. The two women regarded each other silently, each one struggling for topics of conversation that didn’t veer into unsafe territory. Ivy was starting to realize that being at Sunset wasn’t going to be quite the escape she’d imagined when the idea first occurred to her. So far she and her mother had talked about Shea (out having dinner with Owen’s family), the weather (mild but warming up a bit more each day), the wedding (they were so busy every dayand welcomed her help), her aunt Leah (staying busy at the bakery, planning to do Shea and Owen’s cake, as expected), and the closing of the business (expected but still unfortunate). They didn’t mention the past or her father.
    Finally, with nothing left to ask, her mother brought up the one name Ivy didn’t want to hear. “How’s Elliott