by Anna Burke
“This will be fine,” she said.
Ivy no longer looked quite as composed, and at her words bit her lip.
“And if it isn’t? If they don’t like me?”
“They will.” She tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace and, judging by Ivy’s expression, looked like one, too.
“Well, if they don’t, then at least you’re spared meeting my parents.”
“Do you want me to meet your parents?”
“They’ll be here all summer. It will be hard to avoid. And, yes, I do want you to meet them.”
“Even though I’m not a Rockefeller?”
“I dated a Rockefeller for a while. They weren’t that impressed with him.”
“I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“My moms can be . . . protective.”
“Are they worse than Morgan?”
“Way worse. Nicer about it, though.” Her mouth tasted coppery and dry. “It will be fine.”
Ivy didn’t point out that repeating a thing didn’t make it true, which she appreciated.
“I’m looking forward to meeting them. Come on.” Ivy opened the door and had the foresight to stand back as both Hermione and Muffin hurtled out of the car and up to the front door, scattering the chickadees at Daiyu’s bird feeder.
It will be fine.
She reached for Ivy’s hand, no longer caring about sweat, and together they walked up the shoveled path.
June and Daiyu presented a unified front. Ivy’s hand squeezed hers, and then she dropped it and extended it to Daiyu with a “Hi, I’m Ivy. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Winter sunlight lit her blond hair, and the red of her scarf complimented the bright green of her eyes. June was visibly stunned, but Daiyu simply smiled and took the offered hand, introducing herself and her wife and inviting them in. June shook off the spell that Ivy’s All-American appearance had cast and stepped back. Muffin and Hermione, who, for the first time in their lives had not been greeted with the reverence their presences deserved, pouted.
“Oh, get over yourselves,” Lillian told them. She put a hand on the small of Ivy’s back and, once boots were off and house slippers on, guided her out of the small foyer and into the living room. It looked homey and shabby. Her heart clenched as Ivy looked around.
“Sit. I’ll bring out some tea,” said Daiyu.
Lillian steered Ivy to the couch and sat beside her. June occupied the armchair. Her mother folded her hands in her lap, unfolded them, and then folded them again.
“You have a beautiful home,” said Ivy.
“Thank you.”
Silence.
The clink of cups in the kitchen seemed obscenely loud. June cleared her throat. “So, you’re working with Lillian?”
“I’m mostly in large animal, but I do see a few small animal patients. Never exotics, though. That’s all her.”
“She’s always been interested in things with scales,” said Daiyu as she appeared with a tray of tea fixings. “Used to keep snakes in her toy chest. Scared me half to death.”
“Really?” Ivy’s smile appeared to blind June, who turned accusing eyes on Lillian, as if she should have warned her about Ivy’s beauty.
“Mice, too, and we always had a bird in a shoe box.”
“That was your fault,” Lillian said. “You feed the entire bird neighborhood.”
“She’d find injured ones, and a few babies she swore she didn’t steal from the nest, though I have my doubts.”
“I didn’t!”
“Her voice always rises like that when she’s lying. Cream or sugar?”
“Cream, please,” said Ivy.
“My mom is a vet tech. It’s her fault I became a veterinarian.”
“Childcare was expensive,” Daiyu explained. “Still is, I’m sure. My boss let me bring Lillian to the clinic because she was such a quiet baby. Probably violated several laws, but she started volunteering as soon as she was old enough.”
“I cleaned kennels, mostly.”
“It’s an important job,” said Ivy.
There was an apology in those words. Once upon a time, Ivy had mocked her for cleaning kennels. Now her eyes beseeched Lillian for forgiveness.
“And what about you? How did you get interested in veterinary medicine?”
Ivy warmed her hands on her mug and met Daiyu’s eyes. “In my family, you’re either a doctor or a lawyer or a hedge fund manager. My parents were disappointed initially that I wanted to work with animals instead of people. My sister is a lawyer. She actually just made partner, which is exciting, and gives my parents something to brag about to their friends.”
“Veterinary medicine is just as difficult as law,” said Daiyu, bristling in defense of their profession.
“I certainly think so. They’re proud of me now, though, and they know I’m happy.”
“Good.”
Was she imagining the protective note in Daiyu’s voice? And if so, had Ivy intentionally played the second-best-child card? It was a brilliant move, and she studied them both the way she might have watched two dominant dogs meeting for the first time.
“Equine medicine. You’re working with Morgan, then,” said June, who approved of Morgan.
“Yes. We knew each other at school, too.”
“We’re aware.”
Daiyu shot June a warning look. “We were so happy when Morgan convinced Lillian to work at Seal Cove.”
“It’s a great practice.”
Lillian reached for the teapot and topped off her cup for something to do with her hands.
“Where is your family?” asked June.
“My parents split their time between Florida and Rabbit Island. Moving closer to them was part of the reason I took the job here, and my sister is in Boston.”
“What was the other part?”
“Mom,” Lillian said, horrified—but not surprised—by June’s bluntness.
Ivy turned to look at her, and she felt her face warm beneath her gaze. “I wanted to work with Lillian.”
“Even though you didn’t get along in school?” asked Daiyu. “We don’t mean to pry, but we were surprised.”
Oh, you absolutely do mean to pry, Mother.
“Lil always pushed me to be a better doctor. And . . .” Ivy paused, clearly unsure about how much to say.
“Is that a cardinal?” Lillian pointed out the living room window at the bird feeder. Daiyu’s head swiveled faster than an owl’s. She thanked whatever twist of fate had sent the bird at that moment.
“You work in the shipyards, right?” Ivy asked June.
“That’s right.”
“I love driving by there. It’s amazing to me we can build things that big and they still float.”
“My mom operates the cranes.”
“I bet Lillian hated ‘take your daughter to work’ day.”
“She did,” said June, allowing Ivy a minuscule smile. “She’s never had much of a head for heights.”
“I rode a horse the other day.”
“Did you really?” June exchanged a glance with Daiyu. “Was it a pony?”
“No. It was a very tall horse and I was very brave.”
“It’s true. She was,” said Ivy. “Freddie is a good boy, but he’s big.”
“Is this your horse?” asked Daiyu.
“Yes. Here.” Ivy pulled up a photo of Freddie on her phone to show Daiyu and June. The conversation strayed to animals after that, and Lillian allowed herself to relax fractionally as Ivy talked about Darwin and asked after Daiyu and June’s cats, who had never forgiven Lillian for bringing dogs into their home and who spent every visit hiding in her parents’ bedroom. Ivy laughed when appropriate and asked leading questions, even getting June to open up about her work. Watching Ivy, she wondered how much of this performance was genuine, or how much of it was simply a result of being raised a socialite. In time, would she learn to tell the difference?
Daiyu pulled her aside as they cleared t
he dinner dishes away several hours later.
“Well, she’s charming.”
“But are her intentions pure?” She meant it as a joke, but Daiyu considered the question with a frown.
“I like the way she looks at you. It’s clear she cares. Does she make you happy?”
“Yes.” And furious and frustrated and whole.
Daiyu nodded thoughtfully. “It will be complicated. Brian was easier in a way. This woman won’t settle for just a phone call every night.”
“No.”
“Which is a good thing.” Daiyu pulled her into a hug, and she breathed in her mother’s familiar smell. “It’s past time you had something that made you happy.”
Epilogue
The warm May breeze whispered through the budding apple trees as Ivy walked through the pasture behind 16 Bay Road. Freddie trotted toward her, shaking his head and showing off to his pasture mate. Olive flicked an ear at him and continued grazing.
“She’s a tough one,” Ivy told him when he slowed to nuzzle her. “But you’ll win her over.”
He snorted and flicked his tail at the small cloud of blackflies following him. His spring coat gleamed, free from bruising and cuts, and Stevie had reported seeing Freddie and Olive grooming each other on more than one occasion.
“Are you happy here?”
He nudged her pocket. She yielded the concealed biscuit and waved flies away from his nose.
“Me too.”
If she looked over the fence, she’d see the top of Lillian’s greenhouse, where she was currently potting up seedlings for the large garden plot just past the pasture. Ivy had seen Olive eyeing the young lettuces sprouting there with interest.
So much had changed since the first time she’d seen this place. Her introspective train of thought had been brought on by the announcement, made earlier that day, that Morgan was moving in with Emilia permanently. She wondered if Lillian would ever make the same decision. The greenhouse tied her here, as did her love for her friends, but more than that, there was the tension that still simmered beneath the surface of their relationship. Things were improving, yes, but moving in together would create new issues of autonomy. No matter how many times Ivy pointed out she would rather spend her money than Lillian’s, given its origins, the dangerous set to Lillian’s chin remained.
She smiled. That stubborn independence was part of why she loved her. They’d figure it out. In the meantime, Freddie was here, as were Lillian’s plants and tortoise. Splitting nights was easy enough, and she was paying Stevie and Angie generously to board and feed Freddie.
Spring had also broken the flare-up’s hold on her body. She rose with only minor pain, and had, upon Lillian’s urging, explained to Shawna that there were days she would need more help than others. Shawna had nodded, and they hadn’t spoken of it again, but her technician had taken more initiative since that conversation. Nobody else knew. She had not decided when, or even if, she would tell her new circle of friends.
What she did know: Lillian Lee loved her, and she, Ivy Holden, loved Lillian Lee.
“And you,” she said to Freddie. “I’ll always love you, too.”
“Hey,” called a voice from the yard. She squinted against the sunlight and saw Stevie’s blond hair. “Lillian says come to the greenhouse when you’re done.”
“Catch you later, old man.”
Dusting horsehair off the front of her shirt, she set off for the greenhouse. Darwin dogged her heels and snapped at bumblebees, undeterred by his previous ill-fated encounters with his winged nemeses.
The heat inside the greenhouse immediately brought sweat to her forehead. Tendrils of hair sprang free of her bun. The sharp smell of sap and the fragrance from the tropical flowers Lillian grew year-round mingled with compost and soil. She saw Lillian at the far end bent over a potting table with her sleeves rolled up and her hair in a messy bun. Darwin sneezed.
“Hey,” Lillian said, looking up at the sound. “Come here.”
“What’s this?”
A blue ceramic planter with intricate designs inlaid in a lighter blue glaze rested on the table. A dark red lily bloomed in the fresh soil. At its base, a profusion of familiar green leaves tumbled over the pot: ivy.
“It’s us,” said Lillian.
Ivy stroked the dark red petal of the lily.
“It’s not a piano or anything, but—”
Heedless of the dirt on Lillian’s hands, she kissed her. Lillian tried holding her hands up to keep Ivy’s clothes clean. She took one and placed it firmly on her hip.
“It’s so much better than a piano.”
Lillian’s lips curled in a smile against her own. “Liar.”
“It can sit on top of the piano.”
“Not enough light, and Trillium will try to eat it there.”
“Then tell me where to put it, and I promise I won’t kill it or let it kill our cat.”
“Of course you won’t. I’ll be the one doing the watering.” Lillian wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled away to see her eyes. “Do you really like it?”
Every show of vulnerability was a gift and a sign of the trust growing between them like the ivy on the table.
“I love it.”
Lillian looked away, and Ivy nudged her gaze back up with a brush of her nose to Lillian’s forehead. “It’s gorgeous, Lil, and so are you.”
“I got dirt all over you.”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a very full walk-in closet, and a high-end washer and dryer. I think I’ll live.”
“In that case . . .” Lillian grabbed the front of her shirt in both hands and pulled her close again. Ivy closed her eyes and surrendered.
Acknowledgments
I stole liberally from my own life for this book. To that end, I must first thank my family, who, in addition to standing by me at every point in my life, gave me the ocean. Thank you, and thank you especially to my grandmother, who has made so much possible.
Privilege isn’t earned. Most of us are either born with it or without it, based on factors entirely outside of our control. I am incredibly privileged. I would be remiss not to acknowledge that here in the acknowledgments section, where, if you’ve come this far, I have your attention for a few more moments. I am able to write and tell stories because I work hard at my craft, but also because I’ve had infrastructure around me for my entire life that has made it possible for me to dream and reach and achieve. I’m proud of my work. But more than that, I love stories, and I want to read more stories from voices who have not had this scaffolding. Buy queer books. Buy books from BIPOC authors. Support writing scholarship funds. Listen. Love. Vote.
My editor, Mx. Rachel Spangler, deserves many accolades. It is thanks to them that my characters express emotions instead of repressing them, and they are also always here for my snarky and periodically immature responses to their editorial comments. Many a “that’s what she said” joke was made in the margins. Ann McMan of TreeHouse Studio makes the best covers in the business. I don’t know how her shelves stand up beneath the weight of all her awards. The rest of the team at Bywater Books also came together to make this book what it is. You’re amazing, all of you.
Readers! You can’t possibly know how much I appreciate the support and enthusiasm you’ve shown me as I jump around from genre to genre. Writing Romance with a capital R has been an adventure, and I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just in the literal sense—though thank you for picking up this book—but the support you’ve shown me on social media, recommending my books to your friends, joining my Patreon, and sending me messages and emails about what these stories mean to you is such a gift, and in many ways a lifeline. Thank you. A special thank you to my Patreon Patrons, who make me laugh and smile and generally remind me why I love this crazy business.
Last here but first in my heart, Tiffany, every love story is for you. You save lives every day, and I’m so proud of all the work you’ve accomplished. Let the record show that any inaccuracies i
n veterinary medicine in these pages are entirely my fault.
The poem Ivy misquotes is Edgar Allen Poe’s “Annabel Lee.” Written and published in 1849, it is the last poem Poe wrote before his death that same year. Like Ivy, it frequently gets stuck in my head.
As I write, it is September in 2020. Many of us face uncertainty, grief, fear, and prejudice. I’m scared. I’m tired. I’m mourning what and who we’ve lost. I have no idea what the world will look like when these pages see print, but I do know this: stories are powerful. Tell yours. Tell it even if nobody seems to be listening. Tell it until we are impossible to ignore.
About the Author
Anna Burke enjoys all things nautical and generally prefers animals to people. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found walking in the woods with her dogs or drinking too much tea, which she prefers hot and strong—just like her protagonists. She is the award-winning author of Compass Rose, Thorn, Nottingham, and Spindrift.
Bywater Books
Copyright © 2021 Anna Burke
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Bywater Books First Edition: January 2021
E-Book ISBN: 978-1-61294-182-0
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Cover designer: Ann McMan, TreeHouse Studio
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination.
