Chapter One
The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong. 'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep. "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming." Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light. "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?" He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division." "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes. "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month." Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?" "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls." Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible. "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?" Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you." "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know... "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..." Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?" "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him." Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved. "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others." Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever. "Tell me what I need to do." Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams." Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere." The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass. "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real. "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again." The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long. "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it." Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping. "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers." "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing. "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls." "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes. "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours." Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another. "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating." The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter. "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen." Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement. "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself." As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp. Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control." "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?" Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke. "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?" Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?" "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul." As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own. The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere." The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass. "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real. "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again." The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long. "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it." Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping. "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers." "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing. "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls." "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes. "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours." Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another. "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating." The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter. "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen." Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement. "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself." As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp. Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control." "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?" Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke. "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?" Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?" "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul." As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own. The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Three
They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown. "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery." The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt. "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?" Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?" "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world." Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly... They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps. "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look." Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles. "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered. As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams. "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?" Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls." The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David." The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away." "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft." The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work." Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons. "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!" Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought. With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector. "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..." "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears." For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp. The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David. What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air. "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing." The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then... They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival. "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you." Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne." Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins." As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.
Chapter Four
Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world. She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records. A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.' The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes. "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look." The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces." "He's attacking multiple targets at once?" "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond." Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?" "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty. "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..." "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger." She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory. "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago." She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight. "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..." A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently. "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly... She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare. "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power." The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map. "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne. "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time." "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..." "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?" "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..." "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?" Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others." As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had. The true game was about to begin.
Prolog Ruth
PROLOG
RUTH
Nags Head, Carolina Utara
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Di lepas pantai ini, Samudra Atlantik sangat rakus. Dia menelan kapal, barang, manusia, dan dengan lapar menjaga harta dan misterinya. Hari-hari, bulan-bulan, berabad-abad dapat berlalu tanpa bisikan kebenaran, dan kemudian air yang halus berderak, kedalaman air asin bergejolak, dan di suatu tempat jauh di bawah permukaan, cengkeramannya mengendur, dan sebuah rahasia terungkap.
Sekarang, berdiri di pantai sebelum fajar menyingsing, Ruth bisa merasakan perubahan yang membayangi tulang-tulangnya yang berusia delapan puluh empat tahun. Dia meringkuk lebih dalam ke dalam mantelnya, menghangatkan jari-jarinya yang sudah remuk ketika sinar matahari menerobos di atas awan pucat yang diangkut sepanjang cakrawala oleh angin dingin dan asin.
"Tidak ada yang melihat badai datang selain kita, Mama," kata Ruth kepada dirinya sendiri. "Saya merasakannya seperti yang pernah Mama rasakan." Tak satu pun stasiun berita yang meramalkan bahwa depresi di lepas pantai Afrika akan menuju ke barat, berbaur dengan perairan hangat Karibia, dan menghentak sebagai badai Cat 4. Tak seorang pun memperkirakan evakuasi begitu cepat. Tidak ada yang memperkirakan evakuasi begitu terlambat di musim badai. Dan tak seorang pun yang memperkirakan kerusakan yang akan terjadi.
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Lucunya, Ruth tidak merasa khawatir. Jengkel, tentu saja, tapi tidak cemas. Dia sudah tahu sebelum dia meninggalkan pondoknya bahwa hotelnya, Seaside Resort, tidak akan bertahan. Seperti dirinya, hotel itu telah berjalan dengan sendirinya. Waktu mereka telah berlalu.
Keluarganya telah memiliki dan mengelola Seaside Resort selama lebih dari seratus tahun. Ayahnya suka membual bahwa dia memenangkannya dalam permainan kartu, tetapi tempat itu tidak banyak sampai Mama merasa cocok untuk menikahinya dan mengambil alih tanggung jawabnya dan operasi sehari-hari resor itu. Pada hari ini di tahun 1938, dia lahir di Bungalow 28, yang pernah membanggakan pemandangan laut terbaik di seluruh tempat itu. Menurut cerita, mamanya menemukan Ruth terbungkus selimut merah muda, tanpa ada tanda-tanda wanita yang melahirkannya.
Edna membawa pulang penemuannya yang meratap ke rumah suaminya, Jake, dan keduanya memutuskan setelah tujuh belas tahun menikah, bahwa seorang bayi adalah hal yang tepat bagi mereka. Mereka memasukkan gadis kecil itu ke dalam kehidupan mereka dan, bersama dengan hotel, menghadapi semua pukulan Ibu Alam.
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Dia berbalik dari lautan dan berjalan mendaki bukit pasir, melewati gandum laut yang menyapu ujung jarinya. Melihat sisa-sisa Seaside Resort masih membuatnya sedih. Hembusan angin berkecepatan seratus lima puluh mil per jam telah merobek pohon-pohon dan semak-semak dan membuangnya ke kolam renang, mengoyak tempat parkir aspal, dan merobek atap sebagian besar bungalow dan bangunan utama. Galon-galon air hujan telah mengalir di dalam bangunan.
Di sisi lain bukit pasir, ia bergerak menuju bangunan utama. Karpet di lobi, yang baru saja dipasang dua tahun lalu, basah kuyup oleh hujan. Wallpaper kerang laut terkelupas dari dinding dalam potongan-potongan besar, dan sinar matahari mengalir masuk melalui atap yang retak. Seaside Resort mungkin memiliki lebih banyak nyawa daripada seekor kucing, tetapi dia telah menghabiskan nyawanya yang terakhir.
"Aku sudah menerima tawaran atas properti itu, Mama." Kepraktisan penjualan tidak meredakan rasa bersalah atau kemarahannya. "Menyakitkan bagiku untuk menandatangani surat-surat kemarin. Tapi kali ini tidak ada cara yang jelas."
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"Aku tidak cukup gila untuk berpikir mereka akan menyelamatkan hotel. Hanya orang bodoh yang akan mencobanya. Terlalu mahal." Dia menyelamatkan apa yang bisa dia selamatkan dari bangunan-bangunan yang rusak dan menyimpannya di pondoknya, mengemas setiap kamar hampir sampai ke langit-langit. Membuang apa yang telah dia bayar dengan uang yang banyak itu terasa berdosa. "Apa yang tersisa dari resor ini akan dihancurkan. Tapi mungkin itu yang terbaik. Waktunya untuk sesuatu yang baru."
Uang dari penjualan lima hektar properti tepi pantai yang utama akan menghapus hutang-hutang Ruth dan meninggalkannya dengan cukup uang untuk membawanya ke kuburan. Tidak akan ada uang tambahan untuk cucunya, Ivy, tetapi pondok Ruth, yang dibangun seabad yang lalu dengan kayu-kayu dari gereja yang dibongkar, akan menghasilkan jumlah yang lumayan.
"Diberkati oleh Tuhan," kata ayahnya tentang pondok itu. Mengingat jaraknya dua ratus meter dari Seaside Resort dan tidak kehilangan satu sirap pun, ia menganggap itu benar.
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Ruth membelakangi reruntuhan dan menghadap ke laut. Udara asin yang cepat membakar paru-parunya dan mengepal di sekitar jantungnya saat ia bergerak melintasi pasir. Angin menyapu wajahnya.
Ketika ia mengangkat pandangannya, ia melihat orang tuanya berdiri di pantai sambil berpegangan tangan dengan putrinya. Dia lelah dan siap untuk bergabung dengan mereka. Dia akan meninggalkan Ivy sendirian, tetapi gadis itu adalah yang terkuat dari semuanya. Jika ada yang bisa menyembuhkan dosa-dosa masa lalu, itu adalah Ivy.
Bab Satu Ivy (1)
BAB SATU
IVY
Senin, 17 Januari 2022, 10:15 malam.
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Sebelas hari. Waktu yang telah berlalu sejak Ivy Neale meninggalkan rumah untuk menghadiri pemakaman neneknya. Saat itu adalah jeda pasca Tahun Baru di restoran, jadi tidak ada yang keberatan ketika dia libur dua hari. Ada penerbangan tergesa-gesa ke Charlotte dan kemudian kembali ke Norfolk, diikuti dengan perjalanan sejauh seratus mil dengan mobil sewaan ke Outer Banks dan kemudian upacara pemakaman selama tiga puluh menit. Dia bertemu dengan teman dan keluarga, tetapi pelukannya cepat dan percakapannya dangkal. Tidak ada waktu untuk mantan pacarnya, mantan teman yang tidur dengannya dua bulan setelah dia pergi ke New York dua belas tahun yang lalu, anak mereka yang sangat berharga, ratusan orang yang mencintai Ruth, atau tur ke rumah Ruth.
Dia terbang kembali ke New York, udara laut masih menempel di kausnya, dan menanyakan tentang perpanjangan cuti dari pekerjaannya.
Lima detik. Berapa lama waktu yang dibutuhkan atasannya untuk menolak permintaan cutinya. Satu detik untuk mematahkan unta dan membuatnya berhenti. Tiga hari untuk membuat kesepakatan dengan pemilik rumah, menjual perabotannya, dan mengemasi apa yang tersisa. Dia telah setuju untuk membayar sisa dua bulan sewa setelah dia menjual pondok atau menghasilkan uang lagi. Dia menerimanya, karena dia tahu uang nanti lebih baik daripada tidak sama sekali.
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Seribu lima ratus dolar. Itulah harga mobil van tahun 2005 yang ia beli dari dealer mobil bekas. Mobil itu berwarna hijau dan memiliki jok berwarna cokelat yang sudah usang dan radio yang berfungsi selama Anda tidak menabrak lubang, yang merupakan trik yang rapi di hampir delapan ratus mil I-95.
Tiga puluh satu dolar dan tiga sen. Itu adalah biaya bensin dan sebungkus besar M&M'S dari pom bensin sebelum ia menyeberangi Wright Memorial Bridge dan meninggalkan daratan menuju Outer Banks, rantai pulau-pulau penghalang sepanjang dua ratus mil yang membentang di sepanjang pantai North Carolina. Pulau-pulau itu telah dihuni selama seribu tahun oleh suku-suku asli yang tertarik oleh perairan yang subur dan sejak tahun 1587 telah dihuni oleh orang Eropa.
Nenek Ivy, Ruth, telah hidup dan mati dengan angka-angka. Dia selalu menghitung hari sampai musim pembukaan, hari sampai musim ditutup, dolar dan jam kerja yang diperlukan untuk menjaga hotelnya tetap dalam kegelapan, dan mil per jam angin ketika badai menjulang dekat ke pantai. Badai terakhir yang menghantam pada bulan Desember adalah "pembuat janda", seperti yang dikatakan Ruth di telepon. Badai itu merobek dan membasahi hotel Ruth hingga tidak bisa diselamatkan. Ivy telah bersumpah untuk pulang ke rumah segera setelah kesibukan Natal berakhir.
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Di seberang jembatan, Ivy berhenti di Wendy's dan memesan dua bacon cheeseburger, kentang goreng, dan soda diet. Tidak akan ada makanan di pondok Ruth, jadi burger ekstra bisa berfungsi ganda sebagai sarapan sampai dia tahu toko apa yang buka di luar musim.
Ivy melirik ke kaca spion van, yang melemparkan kembali pantulan maskara yang tercoreng dan kerusuhan ikal hitam. Saat dia menatap kemiripannya, suara Ruth bergema: Shift Anda dimulai pukul tujuh. Kita ada tiga pesta akhir pekan ini, jadi tidak ada waktu untuk teman-teman. Kita berhasil melewati satu musim lagi.
Dia mengambil segenggam kentang goreng dan melahap beberapa saat dia mendorong mobilnya.
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Dia sudah setengah mil berlalu ketika dia menyadari kesalahannya dan melakukan putar balik. Setelah dia menelusuri kembali ke utara, dia melambat dan berhenti di tempat yang telanjang. Dalam dua minggu terakhir, tim demo telah menghapus semua jejak bangunan utama yang berwarna aqua cerah, dua puluh empat bungalow, dan papan nama neon SEASIDE RESORT.
Ruth mengatakan bahwa dia akan menjual properti tepi pantai yang berharga itu sehari setelah badai.
"Butuh waktu seumur hidup untuk melunasi utangnya, dan saya sudah terlalu tua. Saya akan melepaskannya," katanya.
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"Ada seorang pengembang."
"Tanah itu bernilai sangat mahal."
"Aku tahu. Dan itu cukup untuk melunasi pinjaman saya dan memberi saya sesuatu untuk hidup."
"Ji_kaÉ ibtu tidak cukup..w.Q."
"Sudah cukup," katanya dengan cepat. "Selain itu, saya telah mengeluh selama bertahun-tahun bahwa saya ingin lebih banyak waktu. Sekarang saya memilikinya."
"Saya bisa ke sana besok."
"Jangan terburu-buru, Ivy. Saya tahu betapa sibuknya di restoran saat liburan. Datanglah saat Anda bisa. Berada di sini tidak akan banyak berubah."
"SrayaA aikan MseGgeraP kce s)anaR."Y
Ivy telah tumbuh besar di hotel itu. Berdiri di belakang meja resepsionis ketika dia hampir tidak bisa melihat dari balik meja. Dia berenang di kolam renang persegi panjang setelah jam kerja lebih dari yang bisa dia hitung, makan semua makanannya di dapur, dan bermain skateboard di tempat parkir di luar musim.
Dapur adalah tempat dia belajar memasak. Pada usia dua belas tahun, dia mengenakan celemek, berdiri di atas bangku, dan memotong, mencacah, dan menumis makanan untuk para tamu. Jangan pernah berpikir bahwa neneknya mungkin telah melanggar semua undang-undang pekerja anak. Hanya Tuhan yang tahu apa yang akan dikatakan OSHA. Tetapi sebenarnya, Ivy menyukai pekerjaan itu seperti halnya Ruth. Dia suka memasak, berkreasi, dan mendengar masukan dari para tamu. Pada usia enam belas tahun, dia berada di dapur sebelum dan sesudah sekolah dan tujuh hari seminggu selama musim panas.
Bab Satu Ivy (2)
Dan sekarang semuanya telah hilang. Ivy dan neneknya sudah tidak memiliki hari esok.
Sambil berkumpul kembali, Ivy keluar ke jalan dan kemudian mengambil kanan cepat ke jalan masuk beton yang dibatasi oleh semak-semak tinggi, bengkok dan terpelintir oleh angin laut yang konstan. Dia memarkir mobilnya dan menatap rumah gelap yang bertengger di atas tiang setinggi delapan kaki. Goyangan kayu cedar yang terhuyung-huyung lebih suram dari yang dia ingat, dan daun jendela badai biru yang sudah usang tertutup. Tangganya tampak dalam kondisi baik dan teras yang membungkus rumah itu masih utuh. Betapa berubah-ubahnya cuaca.
Lampu depannya menyapu bagian bawah rumah ke arah gudang utilitas kecil. Pemutus listrik harus dibalik dan air harus dinyalakan. Satu jam sebelum pemanas menghangatkan pondok dan tangki air tua membuat air panas.
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Berapa kali Ruth berbicara tentang keajaiban makanan? Makanan dapat mengangkat suasana hati, menyembuhkan jiwa yang hancur, dan membuat tugas apa pun menjadi tidak terlalu menakutkan. Dia menghabiskan kentang goreng dan menyeruput soda diet sebelum dia meremas bungkusnya dan memasukkannya ke dalam tas di samping burger yang belum dimakan. "Siap atau tidak."
Setelah mengambil senter dari laci mobil, dia menyalakannya, keluar dari van, dan berlari ke ruang utilitas. Angin dingin menerobos mantel tebalnya, veteran dua belas musim dingin di New York. Dia meraba-raba kunci, jari-jarinya canggung karena kedinginan. Kuncinya, yang berkarat karena udara asin, akhirnya terbuka, dan dia melangkah ke dalam ruangan kecil itu dan menggesek-gesekkan cahayanya ke dinding dan kotak sekering. Berdoa agar udara asin tidak merusak kotak sekering dan pipa airnya tidak membeku, dia membuka pintu dan mencari saklar utama, yang mengejutkannya telah dinyalakan.
Dia tidak yakin siapa yang menyalakan jusnya, tetapi dia bersyukur ada air panas yang menunggu di tangki, pipa-pipa yang utuh, dan mungkin rumah yang hangat. Menutup kotak itu, ia mengalihkan perhatiannya ke katup air utama dan menyadari seseorang juga telah menyalakan air. "Siapa pun Anda, semoga Anda diberkati."
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Menyambutnya adalah barang-barang dari Seaside Resort, termasuk tumpukan kursi perjamuan kulit berwarna merah, kotak-kotak seprai hotel, meja lipat, peralatan makan, dan papan nama. KOLAM RENANG RESOR TEPI LAUT. RESEPSI. TIDAK ADA PARKIR. Ruth telah menyelamatkan dan menjejalkan semua korban badai Seaside Resort ke dalam rumahnya.
"Sial."
Enam puluh dua hari sampai musim semi; enam belas hari sampai ulang tahunnya yang ketiga puluh, ketika ia akan mewarisi pondok itu secara langsung dan bisa menjualnya.
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Saat soda terakhirnya mengaduk-aduk sedotan, dia bangkit dan menyusuri jalan sempit melalui labirin barang-barang menuju teras tidur belakang yang disaring. Engsel pintu yang sudah diminyaki dengan baik terbuka dengan mudah. Udara dingin yang berkilau mengalir ke arahnya saat dia menatap ke arah ombak yang menerjang diterangi oleh bulan purnama yang menggantung di langit.
Ketika dia masih kecil, Ivy dan sahabatnya, Dani, telah tidur di teras ini lebih banyak malam daripada yang bisa dia ingat. Dani dan Ivy akan cekikikan sampai tengah malam, ketika Ruth akhirnya berteriak dari kamar tidurnya di lantai satu agar mereka tidur. Ada sesuatu yang membebaskan dan menggairahkan tentang tidur di sini dengan angin laut yang menerobos udara lembab yang meneteskan kelembapan, cicit burung camar, dan hembusan angin yang membawa tawa para tamu hotel yang masih berlama-lama di tepi kolam renang hotel.
Ketika Ivy pertama kali pindah ke New York, dia mengalami kesulitan tidur. Suara klakson dan teriakan kebisingan jalanan adalah pengganti yang buruk untuk deburan ombak yang telah meninabobokannya untuk tidur sejak ia masih kecil. Dan berbaring di atas ranjang di YWCA, mendengarkan dua orang warga yang sedang bertengkar, dia bertanya-tanya bagaimana dia bisa menjadi teman yang menyebalkan bagi Dani dan pacar yang buruk bagi mantannya, Matthew.
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Ketika Matthew mengumumkan bahwa dia telah menemukan kesepakatan kerja untuk memiliki sebuah restoran kecil, Ivy panik. Dani akan pergi setahun lagi untuk sekolah, dan kemudian dia akan berada di sini bersama Matthew dalam kehidupan yang belum siap untuknya. Dan masih butuh beberapa minggu dan empat gelas bir di pesta kelulusan baginya untuk memberanikan diri mengatakan padanya bahwa dia mundur dari kesepakatan itu dan pindah ke New York.
"Apa, kau hanya akan pergi ke New York?" Senyum lebar Matthew memudar, tetapi dia masih tampak mengharapkan sebuah kalimat yang tepat.
"Aku akan berangkat besok." Jantungnya bersarang di tenggorokannya, membuatnya sulit untuk menarik napas panjang. Dia berharap mengeluarkan kata-kata itu akan melegakan, tetapi dia merasa sakit karena rasa bersalah.
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"Aku tahu."
"Apakah ini balasan karena aku lupa menjemputmu untuk pesta ini?"
"Ini bukan balas budi. Aku akan pergi."
"ApOakahl kXamu ltaah*u_ jbeta$pa &brodothnnkyan 'iunIix t!er!d*etngYatr?t" *K&eQmGamraiha^n myePnemub.us mathanbyha yangM bermkJaDcaz-ókac!a' .karenfa bi'rR.D W"Kpa&u khAanfyBad ple(rnah vke NéeZwv HYo(rk !se(kali, s,a,at kSaryajw^i,sazt^aL SMAz btah.un dlcal'u."Z
Bab Satu Ivy (3)
Luasnya kota New York telah membuatnya kewalahan dalam perjalanan itu. Tetapi ia begitu bersemangat dengan kebaruan dan energi, yang keduanya telah mengikutinya pulang. "Mungkin memang begitu, tapi aku harus mencobanya."
"Apakah kamu punya pekerjaan?"
"Tidak." Tetapi dia memiliki daftar tempat di mana dia ingin bekerja dan reservasi tujuh malam di YWCA. Jika dia terlalu terperosok dalam detail-detail dari langkah ini, dia akan mengakui betapa tidak masuk akalnya hal itu.
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"Tidak." Semakin dia berbicara, semakin kuat niatnya tumbuh.
"Ini omong kosong," katanya. "Kita seharusnya membuka tempat kita sendiri."
"Itu adalah tempatmu," katanya.
"WSrayga pikóir kxita aqdyaPlYah sgenbdu.amh! ztCim^." (DiVaO hmMempbetri Uisuylaruaét dYiW vapnKtfarAa Am'ereXkHag, meHn.uwmpaahrkanK bi(rqniyaA paYdCad gapunx psut_ihnyya.
"Maaf." Mereka bisa berputar-putar, tetapi dia tidak akan berubah pikiran. Dia tidak akan berubah pikiran. Dan ketika Dani mendatangi mereka dengan tiga bir yang seimbang di antara jari-jarinya yang panjang, dia pasti langsung melihat ekspresi tegang mereka.
"Apa yang terjadi?" Dani bertanya.
"Ivy membolos dari kita," kata Matthew. "Dia tidak menandatangani surat-suratnya, dan dia pindah ke New York."
Ivy KmeBnairdiéku npapaós.,* UbMe'rhzaérap NdiDa lebiCh _maóbuk.& "Akqu tLi&dahkT akYaWn émeénimnZgXgal&kanmYu.* ScayaS mteFlga)h Dmem,uqtyuFslka$n éu,ntukc pki^nÉdHah kze N'ew éYorkp.p"
"Tidak, kamu belum," kata Dani.
"Aku sudah." Memberitahu Dani lebih sulit untuk beberapa alasan. "Aku sudah bicara dengan Ruth, dan dia mengerti."
"Kapan kamu bicara dengan Ruth?" Matthew menuntut.
"IBeBbe(ruapra mwitnggxu by.aXnCgk *l'alu^.p"Q INeneklnyma kmeambutzuhkaXnq waSktu untMu!kW menVcfajrpiN Fjguru_ im.asQaGk) gRorMeAnQg bóarWum dBaHn mAan_a.jYeér YdaFpur. sWecbarva AkXesyeplhu&ruÉhQan.m _RutWh mTe^nCericmna !pze_nugumlu.mUanén,yTaK ^dmehnngan ymebnBgCarng(kOaté VbpahUui, !meimNelóuknyaÉ,y da'n Rber(biVsMiLkV, "Itvuvla(h yxabng( harwusV kji^t^aQ laku.kYaDn pUada (su$atuw FsaaStH."^
"Berminggu-minggu?" Matthew berteriak. "Tidakkah kau pikir aku pantas mendapatkan pertimbangan yang sama? Kesepakatanku tergantung pada kalian berdua yang bekerja di bisnis ini. Ivy, kau dilatih oleh salah satu koki terbaik di Outer Banks, dan itu berarti sesuatu bagi para pendukungku."
Dani mundur selangkah seakan-akan dia ditampar. "Kamu tidak pernah mengatakan sepatah kata pun kepadaku. Kita akan menikmati tahun depan ini, bekerja bersama."
"Dan tahun depan, ketika kamu punya uang untuk sekolah, kamu akan pergi," kata Ivy. "Matthew akan menjalankan bisnisnya, dan saya masih berada di dapur yang bekerja kurang dari satu mil dari tempat saya dibesarkan."
"SDay!aY tid)akq KbegitGu sTaLja nmpenarikd !rDenncwa,nwaw psaya! begi*tOu shaj,a,"F CtesriMa*kC aDanlir.U q"KYau Mtahu aFku aQkWanJ per&gGi. nKbaAu Xb*eÉrjCanuj^iS ZpiadaB ki)tVaé rbe(rdxua b)a)hYwOaW gkiUtal !baerUt!igam jaska,nZ ztgeItba$p rbedrsga_mat xseJtidAadknny(aQ UunrtuNkh s*aStut tayhunl laYg!i.r"
"Saya minta maaf. Saya tidak bisa menepati janji itu." Air mata mengalir di mata Ivy. "Sekarang atau tidak sama sekali bagi saya."
Dani meletakkan gelas plastik minuman merah itu dengan keras, memercikkan lebih banyak bir. "Saya melarangmu untuk pergi. Tidak sampai kita menyelesaikan masalah ini."
"Tidak," kata Ivy.
"Kacta-tkatanyaw asa*ngat bearharngba,"' SkatAa M)atrt'hLew.
"Sepertinya," kata Dani, sambil menyilangkan tangannya.
Ivy berangkat ke New York keesokan paginya, tanpa tidur dan mabuk berat.
Tekadnya bertahan sepanjang jalan di I-95 dan masuk ke dek parkir kota, di mana dia menderita sticker shock karena biayanya. Dia menemukan kamarnya di YWCA, dan selama enam hari berikutnya, dia mengunjungi restoran-restoran yang ada dalam daftarnya ditambah setengah lusin lagi. Tidak ada yang pernah mendengar tentang Seaside Resort, dan tidak ada yang punya pekerjaan.
Ptadpa haria kweenNamc,' dmiskurnyéahV ovlsehc keknaklaJhZanD,b rxasÉam $behrasaluahO, dYasn CkefsKenpicaÉn, Zdrixa mHenge$luUarkéan kUopejrnfyaU rdóa.ri JbawUahU t$empaLt tiduhrFnByial dajnA cmulaxi QberkeWmsats sa,mpai Ydia meQnainsgckaAp d$irUinylaA .senqdfi*rJih.' uDia txeilah KmSelwaMrisRiv keceirtonblohaZn ib'unlya_, teqtawpqia jugan s*ikaHp kregrasa k,e*pala, Ruth, daYn hayl t,e_rakhirÉ yvanOg farkan di.a ólankmuwkanV )aJdhalath dpTulJaOngó (ke xrJucmwaZhP d*eón(gann GekoOrP ^tdeTr!se&lLipu dbiU Mavntca)ra. keduXa kOakinIyXa.N yDTica tidakq *m^enYemntaOng ugn'tuGk _pulang* sXuTautu$ hgariJ énqapntib,y taÉpWi wiktut akJanG duiljaCklumkaHn deAngYan lxa'yar $yaBng dpeBn&uvhR dencgan kSesuRk(sce&saTn. mJaLdiq,U FiraÉ *kQeómbaSliL qmeDnQgRijnGjawkkaZnt kIaki (di tmrotoa*r kgeYesoqkan hqarinya.*
Kegigihannya memang membuahkan hasil. Dia menemukan pekerjaan di sebuah restoran Italia bernama Vincenzo's, dua blok dari Broadway, sebagai juru masak goreng dan pencuci piring. Semua stafnya masih memiliki hubungan keluarga dengan pemilik restoran, dan dia adalah anggota non-keluarga pertama yang dipekerjakan Mama Leoni selama dua puluh tahun. Mama Leoni mengatakan bahwa dia menyukai penampilan Ivy, kapalan di tangannya, bekas luka samar-samar di lengannya dari dapur penggorengan Seaside Resort, dan ya, Ma'ams yang disampaikan dengan kontak mata. Mama Leoni menjelaskan bahwa restoran ini semakin populer setelah sebuah ulasan di situs blog, dan sang koki, suaminya, Mario, dan putra mereka, Gino, membutuhkan bantuan. Dengan penuh rasa syukur, dia setuju untuk melapor untuk bekerja malam itu.
Sementara Ivy mengaduk panci-panci besar saus Italia dan memotong, menumis, dan membakar, Mario dan Gino saling berteriak satu sama lain, mengulang kembali pertengkaran yang mungkin telah mereka alami selama beberapa dekade. Setiap pertengkaran berakhir dengan Mario melarikan diri ke gang untuk merokok. Tidak begitu berbeda dengan Ivy dan Ruth dan dapur Seaside Resort.
Ketika Mario jatuh sakit karena kanker tiga tahun kemudian, ia mengurangi jam kerjanya, Gino menjadi kepala koki, dan Ivy naik menjadi sous chef.
MaOmDaK _LQemon$i meHnxgQaTtakaSnD Nkepkad&aA .IvSy bafhJwaÉ Ydita )aédQaylmahj kYeZluar$guaz. "And(a rmemirliki dra(ra.hw ItaliaX yaan.g jmpeénFggalir Bd.iC pnLaUdiR Anda.é"n
Dan Ivy ingin mempercayainya. Keluarga tidak selalu bersatu, tetapi secara teori memang seharusnya begitu. Dan ketika masa-masa sulit datang untuk Vincenzo's, dan memang demikian, Ivy bekerja dua kali lipat untuk membantu menjaga restoran tetap buka.
Dan ketika tiba saatnya bagi Ivy untuk mengambil cuti untuk kembali ke North Carolina setelah kematian Ruth, baiklah, permintaan maaf dan air mata disampingnya, Mama Leoni hanya perlu beberapa detik untuk menolak. Mereka telah meninggalkannya.
Karma. Karma itu akhirnya berayun dan menjatuhkan Ivy ke pantatnya.
Bab Dua Ivy (1)
BAB DUA
IVY
Selasa, 18 Januari 2022, pukul 07.00 pagi.
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Pada tahun terakhirnya di Vincenzo's, dia pergi ke pasar sendirian. Kanker Mario telah sembuh, tetapi lututnya mengganggunya, dan diabetesnya, yang ia tolak untuk mengakuinya, kadang-kadang membuatnya pusing. Gino memiliki tiga bayi di rumah sekarang, dan dia sudah selesai dengan pagi-pagi sekali. Tidur ekstra, kata Gino, akan membuatnya baik.
Maka ia bangun pagi-pagi dan sudah berada di pasar saat matahari terbit, bergerak di antara para pedagang, mencicipi sayuran dan buah-buahan segar, mencium bau daging, meremas melon. Pasar selalu menjadi pesta bagi indera dan meningkatkan kreativitasnya.
Ia mengenakan jaket dan sepatunya. Matahari mengintip dari bawah cakrawala saat ia keluar menuju bukit pasir dan menyaksikan ombak menghantam keras pantai, berkerikil dengan sederet kerang. Meskipun ia tergoda untuk berjalan di sepanjang pantai dan melihat pemandangan lautan, tujuan utamanya adalah untuk membeli kopi dan beberapa bahan makanan. Besok pagi, dengan kopi yang menghangatkan tangannya, dia mungkin akan berlama-lama menikmati matahari terbit.
KeémbzalDiH kTe pFonTdyok, diCa meHngelFu,aJrkaQnO ntZas jzViPp-ytoQpr ukurané *gkalovn Pberiss!iY peXrlnengFkia'paDn mXandWic darbi knoWpÉerLnya.O !Diab mkaRsuYk ke kÉama&rX maBnAdtij diiK lanFtlaig s.aMtu, mas$ih b^erishiZ s!i)kja_t gigix Rutxhp Kdlann dpa*st)ay gkiqgPi' jy.anagQ NmPasi*h sTefteynpgGahL XdiópeRras.C Duiav nmenyÉe!ntugh GsNikat gKigniZ ihtyu deBnFgYa&nQ lNefmbut.A
Sambil mengangkat pandangannya ke cermin, dia mengerang dan mengeluarkan perlengkapannya sendiri dari tas. Dia menyikat giginya, menyisir rambut hitamnya yang sangat mirip dengan rambut Ruth, mengikatnya kembali dengan ekor kuda, dan mengoleskan sedikit lipstik untuk mencerahkan wajahnya.
Dia mengambil tasnya dan bergegas keluar menembus udara dingin menuju van. Kecuali dunia telah terbalik, Dotty's Pancake House masih dua mil ke utara dan buka selama musim sepi. Perjalanan lima menit itu menghadiahinya Dotty's yang berkedip-kedip merah OPEN di bawah papan nama raksasa berbentuk pancake.
Beberapa mobil yang ada di tempat itu adalah truk dan mobil van servis, yang menandakan bahwa para pedagang lokal yang ditugaskan dengan daftar perbaikan di luar musim yang tak ada habisnya sedang sarapan. Di dalam, dia menghirup aroma kayu manis dan daging asap yang segera mengirimkan dopamin ke otaknya. Banyak tamu Ruth yang sering mengatakan bahwa aroma pai apel Seaside Resort selalu meluruskan kesalahan dunia.
IvÉy. bber_diVrYi Ndi_ jbeulakaQnbgp sgeorÉanwgU .próiag Tjangk'u'nJg damlUam qant*reanZ. Bahsun)ya, lseWba_r,s rTabmbut hittaYmnyUa DmAelHe*ngXkungé kelkuatr vdwarriF topi )rHaUjbut Yhidtam, Wd)aAn jahkeutx Vke$rhjaC JbneirzwarqnnaL cUoFkueflVat teDbbaMl. Ceplarnsa jeia$nsTn!yAa Vb^erCssibh, te(t.aApNit YmanZsMeOtnyaó compCang-!cóampiBng sLep.exrrtiI sRepCa.tu ,boUtnuya Dyalnég lecetN. NDéiNa Xme&n)cium ybqauR MsOabunQ,H se$diHkiDtx sferrb'uk kgeSrggaFjiz,D gdta*n .uhdaRrVa BdaiéngcihnN yajng asYi^n. DniC kaysuir! skGentikOan iSaS tmeémesaJnR,g lsu*aranya mDeOmVi_cUuz OgqelaoLmbaDngu kenaadn^gan. JDia IagdaYlJa'hn Dcalt(oynS Mawnchejsrtóerz,c LmHan.taÉnA 'sxaGhSa(baNt* vlamanvy&a!, tkak!ak )Dani.^
Mereka pernah bersekolah di SMA bersama, tetapi Dalton sudah menjadi senior ketika Dani masih mahasiswa baru. Pintar, atletis, baik, dia tidak gagah atau terlalu seksi, tapi mata abu-abunya selalu fokus ketika dia berbicara denganmu. Tidak ada komentar yang asal-asalan atau setengah mendengarkan. Ketika Anda mendapatkan perhatiannya, Anda akan mendapatkannya. Siapapun di kampus yang memiliki detak jantung menyadari Dalton.
Tidak siap untuk perjalanan menyusuri jalan kenangan yang penuh dengan kegagalannya sendiri, dia menunduk dan menahan diri saat dia membayar pesanannya. Di kasir, dia memilih nomor empat, yang termasuk telur, bacon, pancake, dan secangkir kopi tanpa dasar. Dia menyerahkan uang sepuluh kepada kasir.
"Itu empat dolar dan lima sen kembaliannya." Kasir itu beberapa tahun lebih muda dan rambut hitamnya dikuncir ke belakang. Wajahnya yang perunggu membuat mata birunya sudah dipenuhi bulu-bulu gagak.
"HjaZrga yDaynNg baLg*uIsA,)"W kartcax óIvMyu.
"Anda adalah orang pertama yang mengatakannya," katanya. "Kami menaikkan harga pada bulan Januari pertama kali sebesar satu dolar, dan saya belum pernah mendengarnya lagi sejak itu."
Ivy memasukkan uang kembalian ke dalam saku celana jinsnya. "Saya sudah tinggal di New York selama beberapa tahun."
"Nah, itu menjelaskannya. Satu-satunya waktu saya pergi ke New York adalah untuk perjalanan sekolah menengah pertama saya. Saya ingat membayar delapan dolar untuk sebuah bagel polos dan kopi kecil."
"AspaZk!ah bOag^eólGnayav lenak?y"c
Dia menyeringai. "Tidak buruk, tapi saya akan menaruh pancake Dotty melawannya kapan saja."
"Aku mengandalkan itu." Langkah cepat New York masih mendarah daging di tulangnya, dia melewatkan obrolan, mengisi cangkir periuk putih dengan kopi, dan menemukan sebuah meja di sudut.
Dia menyesap beberapa teguk kopi, menikmati rasa dan tendangannya, lalu meraih ponselnya. Secara otomatis, dia membuka emailnya, mencari korespondensi restoran. Tak ada gunanya untuk terus mengecek, tetapi hubungan tidak pernah terputus sebersih yang disukai siapa pun. Ada beberapa pesan dari vendor yang berharap dia baik-baik saja, tetapi sebagian besar menanyakan tentang faktur yang belum dibayar atau mengkonfirmasi pesanan. Gino telah banyak mengandalkannya pada tahun lalu. Oh yah.
"Ivy?F")
Suara Dalton terdengar seperti telah diberi tekstur pasir Tar Heel. Dia menatap mata abu-abu yang terasah selama belasan tahun dan kulit cokelat abadi yang diperolehnya di lokasi konstruksi. Jenggot tebal dan gelap mengisyaratkan pemberontak yang memanjat menara air Currituck pada usia tiga belas tahun, berkendara ke California dan kembali dengan Jeep-nya pada usia enam belas tahun, dan lulus dengan beasiswa penuh ke Universitas Duke dengan imbalan pendaftaran angkatan laut. "Dalton."
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