Reese grimaced. “I wasn’t accusing you of being a bad friend. I just—” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. What did you say?”
Ivy swallowed. That wasn’t supposed to come out of her mouth, especially the bit about the ranch.
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Are you trying to tell me . . . Did he . . . Did he hurt you?” His expression pinched as if he were the one who had experienced physical pain.
“Nothing like that.” Even as she said the words, she could feel Seth’s vice-like grip on her wrist.
Reese took his eyes from the road for an instant. He wore an expression laced with doubt. “You can tell me. We don’t have to put up a pretty front for each other. You know that.” He gave her a half-smile.
“I don’t want to talk about Seth. I’m trying to heal from a messy relationship. Let’s leave it at that.”
He flicked a glance toward her, still gripping the steering wheel. “All right. If you change your mind, I’m listening.”
She shrugged. “Enough about me. What is it you wanted to show me?”
Reese glanced her way. “Roll down your window and close your eyes.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Why—”
“Good grief. For once in your life could you do one thing I ask without arguing?” A smirk teased the corners of his mouth. “Humor me for five minutes. I want to see your first reaction so you can’t pretend you like it to spare my feelings.” He turned the crank to roll down his window.
She stole a glance at the sunlight reflected in his hazel eyes and the way the breeze ruffled his hair.
With her own window down, she closed her eyes and propped her head in the crook of her arm, her elbow on the rim of the window. As they cruised down the country lane, she let the wind blow her hair wild. Everything wounded and roaming in her spirit stilled as the scent of honeysuckle tickled her nose, and she basked in the sweet southern sunshine.
She became so relaxed she forgot where she was or where she was going. When the bright sunlight shadowed, she opened her eyes without thinking and realized they’d entered into a more wooded area.
“Hey, you’re supposed to have your eyes closed.”
She sat up and turned toward Reese. There was something raw in his expression. Tender. Searching.
Ivy swallowed the lump in her throat. “One of us ought to watch the road.”
He turned his face forward. “Both of us could drive this road blindfolded, and you know it.” The husky quality to his voice jolted her middle. She snapped her eyes shut.
He cleared his throat. “You were so peaceful. At ease just being you. You want to know who Ivy Rose Lashley is? That’s her. That’s who you are.”
She took a deep breath, absorbing his words. That’s who she used to be.
After a few more minutes he took a turn, and a wide smile cramped her cheeks. “I know where we are.”
“I thought you might. But you promised. Eyes stay closed.”
It was like those childhood days of dozing off while returning from a long trip. She always had a way of waking up on the last turn. Like something inside her never forgot the path home no matter how far she’d strayed.
A moment later, he pulled to a stop. “Wait here. I’m coming around. Keep your eyes closed.”
She unhooked her seat belt before he had a chance to get closer than necessary.
The door groaned as it opened. “Give me your hands.”
Ivy gulped as his calloused hands engulfed hers. Warm. Solid.
She swayed a bit with her feet on the ground, and he led her forward before she was quite steady. A yelp squeaked out of her. “I’m going to fall. Can I open my eyes yet?”
His voice was soft and low. “I wouldn’t let you fall, Rosie-girl. Just a little farther.”
She walked a few more steps, swathed in the heady scent of magnolias. He took her by the shoulders and angled her slightly. “Okay. Open.”
Ivy blinked in the sharp afternoon sunlight. She gasped. “It’s beautiful.” The last time she’d seen the historic farmhouse she grew up in, it was well on its way to being condemned. Complete with hip-high grass, chipped paint, and a sagging porch.
Today, it shone. Bright and white against the green of the close-shorn grass and ancient oak and sycamore trees. The wraparound porch, a new addition. The windows winked in the sunlight. “Wow. It looks new. And yet, not. The character and history are still there.” She turned to face him. “You did this?”
He squeezed the hand she’d forgotten he still held. “You really like it?” Hope in his eyes warmed Ivy to her toes.
She nodded as she slid her hand away and took a step forward. “I do. Feels like coming home.”
“Come on. Let me get your professional opinion on the rehab on the inside. It’s not all pretty like this yet, but it’s getting there.”
“I guess your client must be impressed with it.”
Pride shone in his eyes. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say he’s feeling pretty good about it so far.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
OCTOBER 18, 1994
Early Tuesday afternoon, Miriam rapped on Pearl’s front door. If anyone had advice on how to engage the retired ladies in the community for her cause with young single mothers, it would be Pearl.
“Coming,” Pearl called sweetly from within.
In a few moments she appeared with a baby wrapped in a purple blanket in her arms.
Miriam swallowed and backstepped, as if the increased distance could spare her heart. How had she forgotten Pearl was babysitting?
“Miriam, what a surprise. I’m so glad you stopped by.” She motioned her in. “Sit down, and I’ll get tea started. Take Ivy for me, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Pearl thrust the baby toward Miriam as the protest formed on her lips. Miriam blinked. The older woman vanished, leaving a warm bundle in Miriam’s arms.
The vice around her battered heart squeezed tighter. The baby in her arms was so tiny. One little fist wriggled free from the lilac blanket and waved erratically. The tip of her tongue barely visible between berry-red lips. She blinked, her dark curled eyelashes brushed her plump cheeks. An ache twisted in Miriam’s chest. She was the most beautiful child she’d ever laid eyes on.
Even though the warning bell clanged inside her head, Miriam sank into the rocker and nuzzled the place beside the baby’s perfect seashell ear, inhaling her delicate scent. Miriam squeezed her eyes tight against the pain throbbing in her heart. The things she ran from.
Whenever she went to the store, she averted her eyes from the cooing babies in shopping carts. She planned her route through the aisles to avoid the racks of tiny pastel clothes. Emblems of the life she longed for but could never have. And now, everything she wanted rested against her chest but didn’t belong to her. Where is Pearl with the tea?
The rattle of cups against their saucers announced Pearl’s reappearance. Miriam tore her gaze from the baby.
Pearl had a tender smile on her face as she set the tray on the coffee table. “She’s a doll, isn’t she?”
Miriam refocused on the reason she’d come, shaking off the heartrending bliss of holding the child. “Pearl, I—”