“Why?”
“Whenever I try to tell her I like her, she won’t take me seriously.”
“Come on. Who is she?”
“I’ll tell you what. You answer a question from me, and I’ll answer a question from you.” A dare glinted his hazel eyes.
Caught up in his mischief, she lifted her chin. “Fair enough.”
“Why didn’t you call me when you got engaged?”
Well, she’d cha-cha’d right into that one. “This box is full. You wanna take it to the truck, and I’ll start on a new one?”
He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he lifted the box and passed her. “Sure thing, Rosie-girl.”
After hours of sorting and filling boxes, Ivy had one left.
Reese returned from depositing the previous load in his truck.
She plopped a patchwork quilt into the box. “I think this is the last of it. I’m cleaning out this linen closet and then we can go.”
“Can I ask you something?”
His last question remained unanswered and fresh on her mind. A ripple of caution skittered up her spine.
“Have I done something to upset you? Is there a reason you suddenly stopped taking my calls several months back?”
She picked at the hem of her shirt, searching for an answer. She could take this conversation a couple of different directions, either one riddled with relational land mines.
“I had my phone off last night because . . .” She sawed her bottom lip between her teeth. He wasn’t going to stop asking questions. She might as well give a little and hope it was enough to satisfy his curiosity. “Because my ex was texting me. Trying to get back together with me, and I can’t deal with it right now. I can’t let myself fall back into talking to him.”
He took a deep breath and spoke through his exhale. “You’re not over him?”
Ivy ran her tongue over her teeth as she stacked an unopened pack of sheets in the box. She might never get over the way Seth exploited all the cracks in her heart. “No, I’m not.”
Reese hitched his thumb in his pocket and gave a single nod. “Gotcha.” He paced the hallway while she worked. A slow amble. “So . . . you miss him and he wants to get back together. What’s stopping you?”
Ivy sighed. “It’s not that simple. That relationship . . . it wasn’t good for me.” Understatement of the year. She reached for the stack of towels on the top shelf of the linen closet. Rocking up on her toes, she was still a half-inch short.
“I have to admit, I never really got you and Seth as a couple.”
Ivy turned and swallowed. She’d never confess why she went out with Seth that first time. She’d been waitressing at an upscale restaurant while Seth sat at a table of men and women, all dressed in power suits. The affluence dripped from them like honey. He’d flirted with the lonely wallflower struggling to land a school counselor position. She finally felt seen by someone. Someone important. She shrugged. “He’s smart, successful, and knows all the right things to say.” And all the wrong things too.
He gave her a tight smile. “I guess that’s every girl’s dream, right? Still, you never seemed happy with him, not really.” He crossed his arms and leaned into the doorjamb of her uncle’s old bedroom. “You’ve had sad eyes, Rosie-girl, and you deserve someone who makes your eyes spark.”
Exposed by his simple phrase, heat rushed Ivy’s face. She yanked her gaze to the carpet. “Sparky eyes, huh? I guess you have to know who you are and what you want to be happy. Somewhere along the way, I got a little lost.”
At the muted sound of his steps drawing nearer, she lifted her chin, doing everything in her power to keep her expression neutral. He smiled. His full-on, carefree Reese smile. The kind that lit his face when they were a couple of sixteen-year-olds cruising down the back roads with the windows down. “Well, you’re in luck.”
She fidgeted with the fresh cut ends of her hair, and then turned back to her hopeless towel retrieval endeavor before he could detect the heat radiating from her cheeks. “Oh?”
“I’m here. And that’s what lifelong friends are for. To remind you who you are when you lose your way.”
Ivy ground her teeth. The effect he had on her wasn’t fair. They were friends, just friends. Exactly as it should be. Whatever she thought she saw in his eyes last night was a figment of her lonely imagination.
She couldn’t be in this house with him anymore. She needed air. To clear her head. Get the towels and get out. She stretched her petite frame as far as it would go. Almost there.
“Hey, let me get that, silly.”
She stretched, balanced on one tiptoe. “No, I got it.”
He edged close to her, reaching around her. His chest brushed against her back. Her spine stiffened as she sucked air through her nose.
“You’re so hardheaded. Accepting help now and then wouldn’t kill you.”
She turned toward him. His face mere inches from hers. “I said, I got it. Back—”
The vulnerability in his eyes stole the words from her lips.
He raised his hands, palms out, and stepped back in surrender.
Ivy swallowed and turned, jumping to snag the corner of the bottom towel. The stack toppled, raining down towels on top of her head. A four by six paper rectangle wafted to the carpet.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
OCTOBER 6, 1994
Miriam sat in the corner booth, inhaling the yeasty scent of baking bread. The quirky soup and sandwich shop was a pleasant surprise stuck in the middle of a run-down strip mall.
She checked her watch. Thomas should be there any minute.
Miriam relaxed into the booth, reflecting on last night’s gathering. She thought of how she had worked with Ashley and her friend to make meals to stock the girls’ freezers. How they constantly asked Miriam for reassurance. Who would have thought spending an evening with those young mothers could have been so fulfilling?
Ashley’s words still warmed her. “I wish my mom would’ve done things like this with me. Taught me how to cook. Christmas cookies, or something. She wasn’t ever really there for me and my little sister though. This is so nice, Miriam.”
At her words, something sweet and tender had unfolded in Miriam’s chest. It should have amplified the opportunities she would never have with her own children or the recent loss of her mother, but the light in Ashley’s eyes woke a world of redemption for missed opportunities. She was able to be a part of that because she had opened her home and . . . her heart.
“Miri, I’m so sorry.”
Thomas stood in front of her with a tenderness in his expression that must have been there all along, but she hadn’t been of a mind to notice until lately. Her insides warmed at the sight of him in his suit and his hair a bit ruffled by the wind.
“Oh, it’s all right. I’ve been enjoying the ambiance of this place.”
He slid in beside her on the circular booth. “I had to make a quick stop by the hospital before I came.”
“Is someone sick?”
“No. Mary Grayson and Carter were in a car accident late last night.”
Her heart clenched. “Was it serious?”
“They hit a deer on the highway. She had a concussion and was unconscious, so they kept her overnight for observation. She’s being released now.”