Hope Springs on Main Street

by Olivia Miles

  His lips thinned. He should visit Adam’s parents while he was in town. But somehow, the thought of going back there was almost more unbearable than being here. It was just a reminder somehow that they were a family, and even now, all these years later, he was, well… still on the fringes.

  “So what should we do with everything?” Ivy asked, when they returned to the main level.

  “Get rid of it,” Henry said. He shrugged. “I don’t see any reason to keep anything, do you? It’s not like Mom was one for family photos.”

  “I guess not,” Ivy said sadly. She sighed and wandered back into the living room. Neither of them made any movement toward sitting down.

  Henry looked around the room. It was just as dark and uninviting as he had remembered. No pictures hung on the walls, and the mirror that had been hung over the mantel all his life still bore the enormous, jagged crack through the middle from the time their mother had thrown his boots at it. He and Ivy had stood frozen, not daring to speak or even breathe, as she railed about money and expenses. They waited until after she’d stormed upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut, and then Henry had quietly picked up the shards of broken glass, thrown them away, and forced his feet into the too-small boots. He’d worn those things all winter, even though his big toe ached, and he never asked for another pair again.

  The next Christmas, when his mother was in a “festive” mood, she’d brought them shopping downtown. As much as they preferred this side of her, another part of it terrified them even more. She cranked up the radio in the car and even ran the heater, singing at the top of her lungs as they swerved into town. “Pick anything you want!” she’d cried, laughing and smiling, and taking their hands. He and Ivy had glanced at each other nervously, shrugged, and then decided to enjoy it while it lasted. Ivy wanted a new doll with a pink dress and long and dark silky hair she could brush, but he told her no, first things first. They managed to get a new pair of boots each, gym shoes, and a matching hat and mittens set for Ivy before things turned sour. By the time they’d returned to the toy shop, he could smell the sourness on his mother’s breath, and the glint in her eye had returned. When Ivy whined about the doll, their mother ripped it from her hands and slammed it back on the shelf. Ivy began to cry.

  “We’ll go the library,” Henry said, as his mother headed for the car. If she bothered to reply, it was lost in the winter wind.

  With his sister at his side, he made a collect call to Adam’s mother. She picked them up ten minutes later, giving a forced, bright smile, her forehead wrinkled despite the cheerful tone she tried to maintain.

  “You know if you ever need anything, just come next door,” she said when she dropped them off later that night, a warm meal in their stomachs.

  Once, when he was playing in Adam’s room, he overheard Mr. and Mrs. Brown talking about him, using words he didn’t understand, like authorities. When he went to the library the next afternoon, he looked it up, and then slammed the book shut.

  If the police took his mother away, then he and Ivy would be sent away, possibly split up, forever. He’d read enough books to know how that worked. He couldn’t let that happen.

  From then on, when Mrs. Brown asked how things were at home, he just shrugged. She suspected things, he was sure, but he wasn’t going to give her any proof. His sister needed him. She still did.

  “How do you feel?” Ivy asked after she turned the key and checked the knob, ensuring the house was locked behind them.

  He looked at her. “Pretty crappy.”

  She gave a thin smile. “Me, too.”

  Henry gave her a long look. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

  Ivy just shrugged. “We weren’t sure what was going to happen with Mom a year ago. There was no reason for you to come back before now.”

  He opened his mouth to say something about the burial, to explain, or apologize, but no sound came out. He’d been in a small town about half an hour outside Amsterdam when Ivy called him to tell him that the time had come. It was no surprise, but still it was a punch in the gut. He’d said nothing, just held the phone to his ear for a good half hour, listening to Ivy’s breath on the other end. They didn’t discuss the arrangements. Ivy said she wasn’t going to have a service, and Henry put a check in the mail for the burial expenses. He couldn’t sleep that night, but not because of sadness. No, the only emotion he felt was anger, anger so deep he couldn’t contain it, and he cursed his mother and cursed himself for not being able to save her, no matter how hard he’d tried.

  The last time he’d spoken with his mother, he’d managed to convince her to go to rehab, only he didn’t word it quite like that. He’d found a nice place outside Orange County, where she could relax and regroup. Slowly, she’d come around to the idea, and he paid for the full thirty days, bought her a first-class ticket, and arranged for Ivy to drive her to the airport that night. She had no idea that he’d been saving his money, pinching and scrimping and hoping it would be enough, that maybe, somehow, they could find a way to be a real family.

  She checked herself out of the facility forty-four hours after she’d arrived, hit the airport bar, and was stopped by security before she could board the plane. When they called him to pick her up at LAX, he refused.

  It was his last effort, but after she died, he wondered what would have happened if he’d tried just one more time… He inhaled sharply. No point in thinking that way.

  “I’ll call a clean-up crew and see if they can come out this week or next.”

  “Thanks.” Ivy popped the locks on the car and they both slipped inside.

  Suddenly in need of a reminder that there was life outside this dreadful place, Henry flicked on the radio. Instantly, an announcer’s voice filled the air. Slowly, life went back to normal.

  They passed Adam’s old house. The light was on in the kitchen, and he strained his eyes to get a glimpse inside. It looked the same. Small. Quaint. The porch light illuminated a perfectly maintained row of hedges along the base of the front window.

  “I know it’s not easy for you, being back in Briar Creek.” Ivy paused. “I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

  “Then do me a favor,” Henry said. “Take the money I offered you and get yourself some better health insurance.”

  “Henry…” Ivy sighed. “I told you, it will all work out. This year’s just been more expensive than usual.”

  “Because of the burial. Cash the check, Ivy.”

  “No.” Her voice was sharp. “You did enough for her. It was my turn.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and stared into the dark forest. She was determined to make the arrangements her sole responsibility. Maybe he should let her.

  “Besides, that’s not the only reason things are tight,” she continued. “My rent went up on the shop this year, and my wholesaler raised prices. It adds up.”

  “I don’t like you putting money toward the business that should be going toward your health.”

  “What’s the alternative?” Ivy asked. “If I don’t have a business, then I’m really screwed.”

  “You know I have the money.” He wasn’t wealthy, not with a journalist’s salary, but he lived a comfortable life and had few expenses given how much he traveled for work. “Please let me help.”

  She said nothing more until they were in town and she pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was tired. He should let her get home to rest.

  She stopped him before he could say goodnight. “Jane mentioned to me that you were considering featuring Briar Creek in one of your articles.”

  His heart sped up. “When did you talk to Jane?”

  Her gaze was steady. “I had a quick dinner with her this evening before I met up with you. She and Sophie were at the diner.”

  He’d been in his room, preparing himself to go to the house. He suddenly wished he’d taken Ivy up on her offer to meet for dinner instead.

  “I’m not the best person to
write about this town.” He arched a brow, giving her a long, knowing look.

  “I know.” She sighed, then leaned across the armrest to give him a hug. “You’re the best, Henry.”

  He unhooked his seatbelt and crawled out of the car, waving until his sister was out of sight, her words still ringing in his ears. He wasn’t the best. Not the best son, not the best brother. Guilt burned in his stomach, leaving him uneasy and agitated when he thought of Ivy’s struggles, her bills, what Jane had said about putting Briar Creek on the map.

  Ivy was his family. She was all he had. And he’d do anything for her. Even write an article on this godforsaken town, he thought ruefully.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Grace and their mother were already gathered in the large, gleaming white kitchen of Rosemary and Thyme when Jane entered, breathless and harried. Everyone was smiling, in good spirits, and Jane tried to muster up the same energy. It was no use. Her thoughts were on one thing, or one person, really. Her daughter.

  “There you are!” Kathleen stood and gave Jane a hug. Hot tears immediately threatened, and Jane closed her eyes, holding her mother a little tighter than usual.

  Blinking quickly, she pulled back, smiling brightly and grateful she hadn’t yet removed her sunglasses. “Sorry I’m late. I had an appointment this morning and traffic was bad.”

  “An appointment?” Grace frowned at her from the marble-top pastry station. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh…” Jane waved a hand through the air and slid onto a stool next to her sister. She shoved her sunglasses into her handbag before setting it at her feet, hoping her eyes weren’t red from crying so much. “Just thought I’d try a new dentist over in Forest Ridge.” It was a simple excuse, and one they didn’t question. Jane breathed a little easier. Somehow keeping her thoughts to herself made this entire nightmare feel a little less real.

  “Well, I hope you brought your appetite.” Anna grinned, setting a porcelain plate in front of her. “Now, honesty is important. And remember, Grace, I can create anything you want, so if you like some aspects of a few, let me know.”

  Jane picked up the heavy fork and eyed the ten round cakes in front of her. Normally her mouth would be salivating by now, but her throat felt scratchy, and her hands were trembling. When she set the fork back on her plate, it clattered. “Sorry,” she said, masking her nerves with a smile.

  “Mind if we start?” Grace asked. “I skipped breakfast because I knew we were doing this today.”

  Jane arched a brow. “Luke isn’t joining us?”

  “He’s not a big sweets person. He said as long as I’m happy, he’ll be happy.” Grace’s smile turned a little wistful, and Jane felt her own expression tighten. Imagine having a guy like that, she thought, and then she straightened her back, brushing away the sting. This was Grace’s special time. She’d had hers. It was just difficult to remember that once she’d been the happy bride-to-be. She’d actually thought she was entering into years of sunshine and roses.

  She managed not to snort.

  “Besides,” Grace continued, “I think he knows that anything Mark and Anna make will be a crowd pleaser.”

  “I’ll second that,” their mother said, leaning forward eagerly.

  Anna gestured to the first cake in the row, and even Jane felt her mouth begin to water. It was coated in glossy dark chocolate and wrapped in a stunning cream-colored ribbon of pulled sugar. Anna took a large knife and cut a wedge, revealing three beautiful layers of cake. It was so moist and dense, not a crumb fell as she plated it and passed it to Grace. “This one is the least traditional,” she said as she handed Jane and Kathleen their servings. “Here you have a Belgian chocolate cake with a milk-chocolate hazelnut cream center, coated in a dark chocolate ganache. Grace, this might be an option for the groom’s cake.”

  Grace eagerly tucked into her piece, closing her eyes as she swallowed. “Don’t even bother with the rest. This is the one.”

  In the distance, Jane heard Anna and her mother laugh. She tried to join in, but her mind was spinning again, her pulse racing, and for a minute she thought she might be sick. It had all started this way for her—the wedding dress shopping, the flowers, the cake—and somehow it all ended not just with an affair, but with Adam trying to take away the one thing she had left. Sophie. She’d given her daughter life, loved her with every ounce of her being, and now she risked losing her. It was unimaginable.

  “Jane?”

  Jane looked up to see Anna staring at her quizzically. “Everything okay?” When Jane nodded, her sister tipped her head. “You haven’t tried the cake.”

  “Oh.” Jane lifted her fork and brought a small piece to her mouth. Her throat tightened. “It’s delicious,” she managed.

  She went through the motions with the next six cakes, even managing to voice her opinion about the one she liked best—a vanilla sponge cake with layers of raspberry purée and marzipan—but her heart began to twist in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Adam was going to take Sophie. Her little girl was going to live somewhere else, somewhere not with her. She wouldn’t be there to tuck her into bed at night, to pick out her clothes for school, to make her favorite foods. Instead, that woman would be doing it all.

  She reached for the pitcher of water Anna had set out, nearly knocking it onto the worktop.

  Her mother stared at her for several long seconds, her blue eyes narrowed. With shaking hands, Jane filled her glass and took a long, cool sip. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. Now was the time to take action, to think. To do… something. She just wished she knew what.

  Grace tossed up her hands and shrugged. “Well, I can’t decide.”

  Anna chuckled, shaking her head and sending her loose blond ponytail over one shoulder. “I figured that would be the case. So long as you make up your mind by a week before the wedding, it shouldn’t be a problem.” As Grace began to say something, Anna held up a finger. “But, no changing your mind. The entire town is coming to this wedding, and I can’t redo that many tiers on short notice. And once I start decorating—”

  “I understand.” Grace nodded firmly, but Jane caught the nervous twitch in her brow.

  “Once I start the fondant, that’s it. That’s your cake.” Anna stared at Grace, who was now chewing on the corner of her lip, eyeing the crème brûlée cake with the decadent caramel center.

  “It’s going to be this one or the red velvet. I’m nearly sure of it,” she added, giving an apologetic smile.

  “Take these samples home and think about it.” Anna pulled some pastry boxes from a shelf and began transferring the cakes. “Jane, bring some home to Sophie.”

  “Tonight’s Adam’s night,” Jane blurted. Quickly, she reached for the box. “Thanks. She’ll love them.”

  “If you store this in the refrigerator, they should keep until tomorrow,” Anna said kindly.

  Grace checked her watch and stood. “Oh my, I should get back to the store. I need to get it open before lunch hour.”

  Jane’s pulse skipped. “I can cover the rest of the afternoon for you, if you’d like.” If she just went home now, she’d wander the rooms, feeling the emptiness.

  Grace pulled her chestnut hair from her coat collar and fastened the buttons. “Oh, it’s a slow day, but thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Jane swallowed, managing only to nod. Maybe she’d pop into some shops, get some groceries. The thought of keeping up the pretense that everything was okay much longer was exhausting, though. She’d go home. She’d make a list and strategize. With her white pastry box in her hands, she followed Grace and their mother out of the kitchen, nearly bumping into Mark on his way inside.

  “Good morning, ladies!” He grinned, but his gaze roamed quickly to Anna. At the sight of her boyfriend, Anna’s blue eyes lit up, and the grin she wore was contagious.

  “You’re late,” she bantered, but a pleased flush spread over her cheeks. “But since you were sweet enough to remember my favorite flower, I’ll
forgive you this once.”

  It was then that Jane noticed the huge bouquet of blue hydrangeas anchoring the farm table Mark and Anna used as a desk at the back of the kitchen. Recipe boxes and cutouts from magazines littered the surface, which was nestled near the big paned windows.

  Leaving them to the cozy little world they’d created for themselves, Jane felt her heart grow heavy. She’d had a cozy little world of her own once, and she supposed she still did. But for the second time in a year it was being threatened, thanks to the one man who’d once been a part of it. Her heart was beginning to pound again, and she clenched a fist at her side. It had taken every ounce of willpower after leaving her attorney’s office not to drive straight to Adam’s office and have it out with him, to scream at him, to show him how much he had hurt her, to ask when it would end, when it would be enough, and what she had ever done to deserve it. She thought it was over. She thought that pain was finally behind her. But when she caught the whisper of joy in Grace’s voice, or that smile that lit Anna’s eyes, she couldn’t help gritting her teeth against the sting of loneliness. Not for Adam—he was no good and she knew it—but for that feeling of comfort, stability, and… happiness, she supposed. She hadn’t dared to be happy in a long time. And without Sophie… A hard lump wedged in her throat. Without Sophie she didn’t stand a chance of ever finding happiness again.

  Forcing her shoulders back, Jane heaved an unsteady sigh and pushed through the front doors of the empty restaurant. Outside, Kathleen waited until Grace was a block away before setting a hand on Jane’s arm.

  “This can’t be easy for you, seeing your sisters in love, Grace getting married.”

  Jane opened her mouth to finally release the horrible, unbearable news. Only Grace even knew that Adam was getting married and having another child. Now, standing with her mother, staring into her kind, familiar eyes, she felt as if it would burst from her. She couldn’t keep the tears back much longer.