“Would you like to stay for breakfast? I have country ham and eggs frying.”
Harvey edged backward though the scent wafting from the front door made his mouth water. “I . . .”
“We could eat out here if you’re more comfortable.”
A loud and rude noise came from Ivy’s diaper area. Harvey gulped and cringed as the place she rested warmed.
“Are you all right?” Pearl’s forehead creased.
There was no way she hadn’t heard. “Excuse me. My . . . my stomach. Another time.” Teeth clenched, he turned and walked away, the scalding coffee sloshing over the rim as he hurried around the side of the church. He walked over the crest into the gully, his normal hideaway to feed and change Ivy.
Without quick work the diaper wouldn’t hold. He set the cup on the ground and threw out her blanket in a cleared spot in the undergrowth. “Ivy Rose, I’m beginning to think you’ve been sent for the sole purpose of stripping me of every ounce of my pride.” At least he was getting faster at changing her.
She gurgled and stared up at him while he replaced her diaper. Her eyes held a depth he could swim in.
“So, little wise one, what’s going to become of the two of us?”
Pearl watched for Harvey from her kitchen window while she washed her breakfast dish. Hopefully he was feeling better. What a shame his anxiety was so bad it affected his digestion.
Her mind flashed to the pain on his face when she’d tried to give the mug back. Rejected. The impulse to hug him in that moment had been strong enough to send tears to her eyes. Pastor Thomas was right. There was something compelling about the man.
Harvey had a way about him that reminded her of her boy, Marshall, the time he wandered off at the county fair. She saw her child before he noticed her. He spun in a slow circle with a lost look in his eyes, scanning faces for the one he belonged to.
But Harvey wasn’t a little boy. He was a tall, strange, rough-around-the-edges man.
She bowed her head.
Lord, give me wisdom. I thought I knew how to help Marshall after he got back from combat. But I didn’t understand. I missed things I should have seen. And the cost . . . Oh, Lord, forgive me. Help me know how to help Harvey. Help me lead him to your peace.
The sound of the rusty wheelbarrow screeched through her open window. It was loaded down with stray limbs and weeds from the flower beds. Harvey’s stooped-shoulder stride reminded her of a cowed dog with its tail tucked. As though he tried to make himself smaller than he was. His toes were going to get injured in those sandals he wore.
She turned from the sink and went to the room she only entered once a month to dust. It looked the same as the day of Marshall’s funeral. All his memorabilia, uniforms, and clothes neatly arranged. The tattered teddy bear he’d had since childhood sat propped in the corner chair.
Marshall had moved in with them after his second deployment, a rescue mission in Somalia, so he could heal. As it turned out, some war injuries couldn’t be seen. She hadn’t understood the depth of Marshall’s wounds until it was too late.
Blinking back tears, she dug in the closet, pulling out a box she’d shoved to the back. A Christmas gift her son never had the chance to open.
Pearl held the boots in front of her. They seemed the right size. But would Harvey accept them?
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
PRESENT DAY
After leaving Mrs. Benson’s, Ivy slumped against the passenger seat of Reese’s truck, the wind gone out of her like a deflated balloon.
Reese closed the truck door on his side. At the heavy metallic clank, Ivy jerked her head in his direction.
“Sorry. Old Bessie lacks refinement, but I can’t bear to part with her.”
Ivy was with him the day he bought the truck off an old farmer. He’d worked two summers to earn it. Reese had driven around, narrow teenage chest puffed out, proud as could be of that ugly orange and white truck. He’d likely drive the thing until it wouldn’t run anymore. Old Bessie gave Reese his first taste of freedom from the family who had too many kids and not enough love or resources to go around.
Ivy shrugged. “I’m just a little frazzled.” She pulled the faded gray seat belt across her chest as the engine cranked.
The summer they were sixteen the two of them rode all over the county every day of Ivy’s monthlong stay. Ivy didn’t think a thing about it until Lilah Hudson cornered her after youth group and told her to stay away from Reese. That it wasn’t fair for Ivy to swoop in and steal one of the few guys worth dating in that town.
She’d laughed off Lilah’s jealousy at first. Ivy and Reese had never been more than friends. But the truth was, Lilah’s words woke something sleeping—how hard Ivy had fallen for Reese without even knowing. From that day on, Ivy checked her heart at the door to protect their friendship. She’d never quite forgiven Lilah Hudson for stealing the automatic ease she’d felt in Reese’s presence.
“Hey, Earth to Ivy.”
Ivy shook herself. She’d been staring out the windshield unseeing, the idling truck a distant rumble.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
Warmth bloomed in her cheeks. “Nothing.”
A curtain slid back into place within the house. Reese’s low chuckle filled the truck cab. “I think somebody was keeping an eye on us.” He elbowed her and gave her a wry grin. “You do know that this whole town had big plans for us back in the day. We were their greatest disappointment.”
She forced a laugh. Maybe if she skipped over the last thing he said, it would go away. Her battered heart might spill out words she’d regret. “There’s always somebody watching in this little town. Somebody has to know what happened to the journal. Or about the secrets Grandma kept.”
He covered her hand with his. “We’ll figure it out. I still think it was a misunderstanding. Surely someone took it by mistake, or your grandma moved it and forgot. Seriously, call your parents. Or your uncle. No one was closer to your grandma than him.”
She slipped her hand away and tucked it under her thigh. “Maybe.” But even the thought of exhuming those long-buried conversations squeezed air from her lungs.
When eight-year-old Ivy had finally gotten the nerve to ask about the gossip she’d overheard, her parents had glanced between each other, eyes filled with worry. Their pauses and expressions spoke a thousand things Ivy couldn’t decipher.
Suffocating under the weight of the discomfort she’d brought to the room, Ivy had shut down the conversation almost as soon as she started it.
Ivy pulled her phone from her bag, running her fingers over the smooth rim.
Reese put the truck in gear and pulled out of Mrs. Benson’s gravel drive. “Just consider it, okay? What if the answer to all this mystery surrounding your adoption is you finding the courage to ask?”
As he drove on, she stared at the wild daylilies growing along the ditches. Blurred orange beacons among all the green.
It sounded simple. But Reese didn’t understand.
Tiptoeing, Ivy had spent her entire life trying not to step on any fragile feelings. Her parents chose her. She wanted to be the perfect choice. For them. She winced. For Seth.
And he had chipped away at her heart bit by bit, taking pieces so small she didn’t notice at first. By the time the ache registered, she believed the lie—the person he wanted her to be was better than the person she was.