Chapter 21: Not Yet

Douglas's POV

It was Saturday, and the park was crowded with other people's children.

I had been awake since four.

I had rehearsed four different speeches in the shower, and I had thrown away every one.

Polly ran ahead of us to the swings, and I pushed her until she told me I was doing it wrong.

"Higher," she said. "You're being careful."

"I'm always careful."

"Be less."

I pushed her higher.

Ivy sat on the bench beside the swing set with a paper cup of coffee.

She wore a gray coat, and her hair was combed back.

She had stopped combing it over her forehead the week of the gala.

The white streak showed plainly in the cold light.

Thirty feet away, on the next bench, Philip sat behind a newspaper held upside down.

"He's been there for an hour," Ivy said, without turning her head.

"I know."

"He thinks that's a disguise."

"He's your witness. The rule says witnesses."

"Witnesses are supposed to be strangers."

"Then Caleb is the witness. He's behind the hot dog cart."

She turned and looked.

A man in a baseball cap was eating a hot dog with great concentration, ten feet from the swings.

Ivy put her hand over her mouth, and her shoulders shook.

I watched her laugh, and it was the best thing I had seen in four years.

Polly swung up and down, singing the pig song at the top of her lungs.

I sat down on the bench, a foot from Ivy, and put my hands on my knees.

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