Ivy was fast asleep in Pearl’s arms. Peaceful. Her little trusting spirit at rest. If she was okay, he’d find a way to be okay too. “You’ll get me if she needs me?”
Pearl nodded. “Absolutely. Now go on to work, dear. You’re worse than a new mother on her first day off maternity leave.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Miss Pearl.” He dipped his chin.
“We’ll see you this afternoon. Go on, now.”
Harvey forced his feet to move and left his sweet girl in the care of another. He’d thought it impossible to trust someone to care for him. This was a million times worse.
Harvey chipped at the peeling red paint of the church’s front door with a scraper. If he worked at it, he could have one of the towering arched doors prepped for a fresh coat by the end of the day.
He had to admit, he’d gotten a lot more accomplished in the past three hours than he normally did in a day. It was easier maneuvering when he wasn’t constantly worried about jostling Ivy.
A thread of tension tightened his spine. He tried to shake it, but it intensified with the passing moments. Something was wrong. Off.
He pulled his watch from his pocket. Rather, Pastor Thomas’s watch. Ivy needed to eat. He left the scraper on the church steps and hurried to the parsonage. It was funny. She’d changed his internal clock, and he knew she needed him even without her squirms.
He strode across Pearl’s porch, and as he reached to knock, a sound froze him. Singing.
“The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound . . .”
Harvey crept around to the window and peered through. Pearl was rocking the infant, bottle balanced in her hand as Ivy fed.
The tension dripped out of him as he sank to sit beneath the window. Ivy was fine. She was cared for. Which was good. But if it was good, why did it make him hurt so bad?
The front door creaked.
“Harvey James, get back to work and stop skulking on my porch. Ivy’s fine.” Her mock scold was softened by the kindness in her eyes.
He felt anything but fine.
“There you are, Harvey. Those doors are looking great.”
Harvey’s head jerked up and his breath hitched in his chest. Pastor Thomas was strolling down Pearl’s sidewalk.
“Whose do you have there, Pearl? Whose baby?” He picked up his pace and went to her. He gasped. “My, my she is a beautiful little one. Now I know why my lunch companion was absent today.”
Forgotten, Harvey slunk back to his peeling paint, willing his heart to stay inside his chest, but it felt like it scraped raw against the pavement with every step. Now two people knew he was taking care of Ivy full-time. How long could he go on without them figuring out the rest?
At the end of the workday, Harvey came down Pearl’s walk as if pulled by a string. Weary yet eager, he reminded Pearl of a fish who’d been fighting the line all day and was now relieved to jump on the plate. He froze when he spotted her sitting on the swing.
“Where’s Ivy?” His fists clenched at his sides.
“Hi, Harvey. How was your day? Mine was lovely also.” Pearl smiled. “Ivy is napping in the bassinet. I checked her two minutes ago.”
He began breathing again.
So many questions begged for answers. Where was Ivy’s mother? Did Harvey think she was coming back? But he was so edgy, so distrustful. She’d never get a word out of him in this temper. “I’ve made supper. We could let her snooze a little longer. You don’t have to, of course. If you’d rather not.”
He shifted his feet. “Sure . . . that is . . . let me check on her first. And dinner outside? If it’s not more trouble?” He motioned to the door. “May I?”
She walked over and patted his shoulder. “Of course, dear. You don’t have to ask to go in my home. When you get back, pull the table and bench over and we’ll enjoy this nice fall evening.”
She followed him into the house and fixed their plates while he was with Ivy.
Her son had been that way after his first tour of duty. Always preferring open spaces to being indoors. Though strangely enough, when he was lost in one of his panicked episodes, he’d head for the closet.
What was Harvey’s story? He seemed to have sprung up from the earth like a loblolly pine, born of the sun and water and bent by the wind.
Today she’d made a call to her friend at the police department. There were no local missing persons reports. For a woman or a child. No one knew of a man named Harvey. They couldn’t live far though. The man walked everywhere he went.
Harvey helped her carry their supper plates out, his rigid posture softening after setting eyes on Ivy. Pearl settled on the swing, and he sat opposite on the bench.
He took a bite of her buttermilk fried chicken. She swelled with delight as he closed his eyes with a sigh.
“You know what they say about feeding strays, don’t you?”
She chuckled. “Is that a promise? Because I’ve started a collection, and I kind of enjoy it, to tell you the truth. Poor Pastor Thomas doesn’t even know how to fetch his own lunch anymore.”
“If you feed him like this, why would he want to?”
Pearl reached and patted his large, rough hand. “So how was your first day without Ivy?”
He ducked his head and slipped his hand away. “Hard. Being away from her. But I put it into my work. Hopefully, Pastor Thomas will approve.”
She nodded.
“How was Ivy? Okay?”
“She’s a dream, Harvey. I don’t know if I’ve ever met a quieter newborn.”
He beamed. The first real smile she’d ever seen from him. “She’s something, isn’t she?”
“Your sister. How long did you say she’s been gone?”
Harvey swallowed the bite of chicken he’d just put in his mouth and winced as it went down. “Uh . . . right . . . uh . . . right after Ivy was born.”
“Don’t you think you should file a police report?”
Color drained from Harvey’s face. “I don’t want to get her in any sort of trouble.”
Pearl leaned toward him. “Mothers don’t usually leave behind their babies on a whim. She could be hurt or in danger.”
Harvey stared at the floor, pain marring his features. His words came out like he had to wrestle them from his chest. “Trust me. She’ll be fine. If I file a report, I’ll ruin everything.”
Ivy’s cry broke through the silence, and Harvey jumped to his feet like a shot had been fired.
Pearl tipped her head toward the house. “Go on. Go get your little one.” She nudged her toe against the porch, setting the swing into motion. Where would his sister have gone, and what would’ve forced her to leave her child behind?
Harvey returned and sat back on the bench while he fed Ivy her bottle. Little by little his tensed shoulders dropped.
“It’s getting dark. I hope you don’t have a long walk home. Where do you live again?”
Harvey, struck by a coughing fit, turned a few shades of red.
Pearl stood. “Let me get you more water.”
When she returned, he seemed magically composed and was settling Ivy in the wrap.