“Oh, Ivy. You’ve got to hang on a little longer.”
“I . . .” She lifted her chin to look into his hazel eyes. Eyes full of compassion. Gentleness. Strength. Patience. Steadiness. The knot in her middle loosened a fraction.
“I’ve got the truck loaded for the homeless mission if you’re ready. Or if you’d rather, I can just take it?”
She stepped back and picked the photos off the floor, setting them on the table nearby. “No, no. I want to go. I need to get out of here.”
Ivy locked the door behind them as they headed outside. When she opened the door of Reese’s truck, a package wrapped in rumpled brown paper and topped with a lopsided bow rested in the passenger seat.
“What’s this?”
Reese snatched the package. “Oh, uh . . . well, it was meant to be a joke. Not a joke. But something funny. It’s not the right time. I’ll just . . . forget about this, okay? I’ll give it to you later.”
Ivy sighed, trying to slough the weight off her shoulders. “I could use a little comic relief.”
Though her flat tone couldn’t have been convincing, Reese handed over the package.
She pulled off the bow and unfolded the paper. Her fingertips landed on satiny smooth fabric. Ivy yanked the paper open. Her old aviator goggles rested atop the pink superhero cape Mom made for her back in her swing-soaring days.
Ivy stared. “Where did—how did—Reese?”
His low laugh filled her ears. “It was in a box of things your grandma gave me before she passed. I’d forgotten about it until we were over at the house last night with you in that swing. I think she wanted me to tell you to not be afraid. That no matter how life knocks you down, don’t outgrow the belief you can fly.”
Ivy swallowed the lump in her throat and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I thought you said this was supposed to make me laugh.”
Mischief played across his expression. He reached across her and cranked down her window. As he cruised down Grandma’s drive, he wriggled an eyebrow. “Put the goggles on, Rosie-girl.”
She dangled the goggles from her fingers. “No way. No how.”
“You’ll do it, or I’ll spend the rest of the day talking in pig latin.”
Ivy mock groaned. “That’s too far.” Back in fifth grade, Reese had spent an entire week only speaking in pig latin for the sole purpose of annoying her.
“Just do it. Put on the goggles. Hang your head out the window like Mr. Johnson’s old hound dog, and I guarantee you’ll be laughing in five seconds flat.”
“And how do you plan to compensate me if your guarantee falls through?”
He grinned, a slow lazy grin. “I dunno. How would you like me to compensate you?”
For some reason him leaning in for a kiss played in her mind. Her cheeks flamed. “You’re impossible.” She tugged the goggles over her eyes and leaned out the window before Reese could catch a glimpse.
At that exact moment old Mr. Coulter stepped out onto his front porch as they zipped past. The poor man about broke his neck spinning around to get another look at her.
Reese hooted with laughter and gunned the engine.
Ivy bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from giving in too quickly to the silliness bubbling up in her chest, but she completely lost it when he cranked up his stereo to full volume with R. Kelly singing “I Believe I Can Fly.”
She plopped back down into her seat and pulled off the goggles, gasping and gripping her sides. “Stop it. Turn it off. I can’t—” But she was laughing too hard to get words out. Tears streamed down her face.
He snorted as his shoulders shook. “Told ya I could get you to laugh in five seconds flat.”
At the homeless mission, groups of men and a few women sat at picnic tables conversing and eating lunch. Reese nudged Ivy with his elbow and jerked his head sideways.
Uncle Vee was sitting next to Leah, the director of the homeless mission. She laughed at whatever he had just said and placed her hand on his forearm.
“What’s going on over there?” Reese asked.
Ivy shrugged. They sure looked cozy, angled toward each other. Her uncle wasn’t the touchy type, but he didn’t seem bothered by Leah invading his personal space.
Her uncle frequently came to the homeless shelter to interview employees for his landscaping crew. Some came and worked with him for a few months to get back on their feet; others stayed for years. The community had once been put off by the people he employed, but after seeing the crew’s exemplary work, they overlooked their less-than-traditional backgrounds. Although, it looked like Uncle Vee was here for personal reasons today.
Ivy grinned. “I think my uncle has a girlfriend.”
As they approached, Uncle Vee jumped up from his seat and walked toward them. “Hey, you two. What’s going on?”
Ivy gave him a quick side hug. “I think the bigger question is what’s going on with you . . . and Leah?”
He scrubbed his jaw with this hand. “Just lunch. She had questions about how my new hires are working out.” He coughed to clear the gravel in his throat.
How cute. He was embarrassed.
Reese hitched his thumbs in his pockets. “You two seemed pretty cozy over there.”
Uncle Vee sputtered. “Oh . . . uh . . . yeah, no. We’re friends. Good friends.”
Ivy bit the inside of her cheek to check her smile. “Didn’t look like just friends to me.”
Her uncle glanced from Ivy to Reese and back. A corner of his mouth twitched. “Uh-huh. As if the two of you know the difference between friends and more than friends.”
Reese coughed as he headed for his truck. “Uh. I need to . . . the boxes . . . unloaded. I gotta go unload the boxes.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
NOVEMBER 6, 1994
Pearl leaned against the doorframe, her hands hugged around her teacup brimming with chamomile, watching Harvey in his favorite location—stretched out on the floor with Ivy. He was at his best in moments like these. The little places around his eyes relaxed, and the perpetual crimp in his forehead smoothed. His movements were languid instead of rushed.
Too bad she hadn’t convinced him to come to church that morning. Although right now she’d be happy to simply convince Harvey to sleep inside. Every morning for the past three weeks, she’d found him in the predawn hours curled up on the porch swing again. He had to have been freezing last night. It was fifty degrees, and he hadn’t brought out a blanket or jacket.
He made the same excuse. Blaming restlessness. Did he honestly think a bed in a home was more than he deserved?
She set her tea on the side table. Despite her stiff joints, she sat on the floor next to Harvey and the baby.
He smiled up from where he lay. “We’re an odd bunch. All sitting on the floor, surrounded by furniture.”
Pearl let out a chuckle. Maybe if she put herself on the same physical level with them, he’d let her move him up from whatever lowly cubbyhole Harvey had placed himself in. If only he’d trust her to show him just how much goodness he deserved.
She pursed her lips against the sour-tasting words about to come from her mouth. It was probably the wrong way to handle this, but she couldn’t have him spend another night shivering on her porch swing.