C01 Take a Chance on Me

by Susan May Warren

  She nodded. “Thanks for the input.” Her face seemed to relax then, a smile at the edges. “I’ll keep your idea in mind.”

  He returned to the Jeep and retrieved his mother’s cookies, left them on the table in front of the maps. Jed waved to him, his radio out.

  And then Darek was heading home, away from the fire, the clatter of the camp, the lure of the past. As he drove south, the lake fanned out before him, a glorious blue, fingers of sunlight cutting through the smoke to caress the earth.

  Maybe he’d take Ivy out in a canoe to the middle of Evergreen Lake, tell her about the time he’d caught a walleye as big as his arm. Or the time he and Casper had gone bear hunting for the first time. Or when he and Jensen—

  Jensen.

  Yeah, maybe he’d tell her about Jensen and how, once upon a time, they’d had a friendship closer than brothers. How he did stare across the lake sometimes, at Jensen’s house, just as his mother accused him of.

  How, sometimes, the urge to let it all go, to forgive, seemed so big it could consume him. Yes, he’d tell her that, too. Not that Darek would forgive him, but . . . what if he did?

  What if being with Ivy turned over a fresh grace inside?

  He turned down his road, smiling. She could do that—help him forgive, help him start over.

  He slowed as he came into the parking area, a sweetness stirring in him when he saw her Pathfinder. So she’d gotten his messages. He imagined her sitting in the kitchen with his mother, maybe trying out one of Grace’s newest recipes.

  But then, beside her car, he noticed . . . a cruiser?

  He parked, shut off his Jeep. Climbed out. And that’s when he heard them.

  “You can’t take him without letting him say good-bye—”

  “Don’t make this harder than it is—”

  “Just cooperate, John, please—”

  “Mr. Christiansen, I promise we’ll get this figured out—”

  “Wait for Darek—”

  “I want my daddy!”

  Darek took off in a full-out run toward the house. The voices came from around the rear, so he took the path to the deck.

  They all turned as he vaulted the steps, found Tiger clinging to his grandmother’s neck. Ingrid looked furious—Darek had always feared that face—and his father seemed moments away from being thrown into the back of Kyle’s cruiser.

  Kyle met Darek’s eyes, something of regret in his own even as he held up his hand. “Calm down, Darek.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” This from Ivy, who stood slightly away, dressed in her lawyer clothes, her arms folded across herself, her face almost white.

  “Daddy!” Tiger reached for him, and of course Darek pulled him into his arms.

  And then he rounded on Diane, who wore her lips tightly bunched, held a file in her hands. “What’s going on here?”

  “The court has issued an emergency removal for Theo, Darek. I’m sorry, but he’s going to have to come with us.”

  For a moment—an eternal, bloodletting second—his heart simply stopped. Refused to beat as he stared at Diane.

  Then at Ivy.

  She swallowed, her expression wretched, tears glazing her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “I . . .” He closed his mouth, tried to get his wind back. “Over my dead body.”

  “Darek—” Kyle started.

  “You don’t have a choice,” Diane said. “That’s why Kyle is here. You’ll be taken into custody if you don’t release your son.”

  “What are you talking about? Why—? I don’t understand.” He turned to his mother, but she had a hand pressed to her mouth. His father looked at him, his jaw tight, and gave a small shake of his head.

  “We know about Saturday night, about Theo getting lost in the woods.”

  Ivy looked away.

  Darek blinked at that, not sure . . . “He wandered off.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The court has decided that CPS needs to take a closer look at Theo’s situation. There will be a hearing in seventy-two hours to discuss further action.”

  “Three days? And where is Tiger going to be during those three days, Diane? Please don’t tell me a foster—”

  “He’ll stay with Nan and George.”

  Of course. “No.”

  “Please, Darek,” Ivy said, coming to life now. “Trust me.”

  He stared at her, and everything inside him settled into one dark, glowing coal. “What’s going on, Ivy? Did you know about this?”

  “Don’t blame her, Darek. She’s just doing her job.”

  Doing her—? “What do you mean? Did you—did you agree to this?”

  He reached out and yanked the file Diane held, opened it, reading over Tiger’s shoulder.

  He wanted to howl when he found Ivy’s signature, petitioning for the emergency removal order.

  “Darek—” Ivy started, but his expression must have scared her because she closed her mouth. Winced.

  “I promise we’ll take good care of him,” Kyle said. “Tiger, would you like to see my police car?” He leaned toward Tiger, glancing at Darek. Mouthing, I’m sorry.

  It was the only thing that kept Darek from landing his fist in the deputy’s face, right there, and facing who knew what kind of charge.

  Instead, he took a breath and glanced at his mother, who nodded.

  Oh, he couldn’t do this.

  But despite the clawing in his chest to just run, to take Tiger and strap him into his car seat and vanish, he forced a smile.

  “Hey, buddy. Would you like to go see your grandma and grandpa for a few days?” Darek leaned back, met his son’s eyes.

  “No. I wanna stay with you!”

  “I know, pal. But your grandma really wants to see you. And Ivy will bring you there; won’t you, Ivy?”

  “Yeah. Sure, bud. Maybe we can stop and get ice cream.” She ran her hand down Tiger’s back.

  Tiger looked up, so much trust in his eyes that Darek wanted to strangle Ivy. But perhaps this was the show she put on for people. Making them believe in her, trust her, before she decimated their lives.

  A true prosecutor. A manipulator.

  He should have figured that out. Hadn’t she told him, even warned him away? I have a good thing going, and suddenly I wreck everything. And then it’s just over.

  Yes, it certainly was.

  “Go with Ivy.” He kissed his son and, despite the boy’s grip, managed to pry him off, put him on the ground. He gave Tiger’s hand to Ivy.

  She took it, smiled at Tiger. “I promise, everything is going to be just fine.”

  When she glanced at Darek, he took a second to narrow his eyes at her before he stepped away.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Diane said. “C’mon, Theo.” She led them off the deck.

  Darek followed the troupe to the edge of the parking lot and watched as Kyle buckled his son into the cruiser, as Diane slid in beside him. He barely had the courage to lift his hand and smile as Tiger pressed his little palm to the window.

  Oh, he might crumble, right here.

  His father’s hand rested on his shoulder.

  Ivy walked to her car, opened the door. Paused. “Darek—”

  “Get off my property,” he said quietly, a fire under his skin. “You don’t belong here.”

  IVY SAW NOTHING as she drove back to Deep Haven.

  She shouldn’t have gotten involved. Why did she get involved?

  She just had to keep from dissolving. Just had to pull herself together. Stay unattached.

  She followed Kyle’s squad car all the way to Nan’s house, saw Nan standing on the porch, and felt like a traitor. Diane got out of the car, holding Tiger’s hand, but the tyke broke free and ran to his grandmother.

  Ivy didn’t wait to listen, didn’t want to hear what Diane said. Never mind her broken promise about buying Tiger ice cream. In the vast array of betrayals, that seemed minuscule.

  She put the Pathfinder in drive and headed home. She’d call in sick.
<
br />   Or maybe she’d just quit.

  When she swiped her hand against her cheek, it came away wet. That stupid Darek, drawing her in, making her care about Tiger. About him. Making her believe that she could belong in his life.

  Oh, she knew better. She’d eviscerated her one rule—don’t care. Don’t get attached; stay impartial.

  But she’d make it through this. She didn’t have to fall apart.

  Ivy pulled into her driveway, still shaking. Still hearing Tiger crying, seeing the way he’d held on to Darek.

  Yeah, she knew that feeling. She wanted to wrap her arms around Darek herself and hold on. Get him to listen to her, trust her. Tell him that he didn’t have all the facts.

  Make him take back his words. You don’t belong here.

  But she didn’t blame him, not really.

  Ivy’s hand still shook as she opened her door, going inside to stand in her quiet apartment. The faucet dripped water into the sink; the refrigerator hummed as if in disapproval. Outside, the sun had unlatched from the sky and begun a slow descent, scrubbing the floor with shadow.

  She had enough money in her bank account to move to Minneapolis. Or Chicago—or how about Rhode Island?—as far as she could from Deep Haven. But what good would that do?

  Yes, God clearly hated her.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the old rush of panic inside. The one that came every time a social worker appeared on her doorstep.

  Again. It was happening again, and she was an idiot this time for letting it happen.

  Ivy managed to make it to the tiny bedroom, where she lay down on the comforter, pulled her knees to herself, and held on.

  Just hold on. The panic, the emptiness, would pass. She’d figure out how to get up, wash her face, keep going.

  I’m glad you came tonight, Ivy. Ingrid’s voice, now burning inside her. You’re good for Darek.

  Right.

  I’m not going to give up on us.

  She wanted to cover her ears.

  She toed off her shoes. Pulled out her hair band, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. Closed her eyes. Yes, it would pass. She drew in a breath.

  Leaving felt right. It wasn’t like her absence would leave a hole in anyone’s life. It never had before.

  Boxes. She needed her boxes. Tonight, after everyone left the courthouse, she could collect her belongings, meager as they were. And by morning she’d be gone.

  Vanish. Just as she had fourteen other times.

  Ivy sat up, rested her hands against her stomach. Better, much better.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror as she stood. Oh, boy, she appeared even more bedraggled than she had this morning. Her hair stringy around her face, her cheeks splotched, her eyes red. She turned away, unable to bear herself.

  Yes, she needed boxes. And she’d write a note to Liza and tell her she could keep the rent. Leave the key on Claire’s doorstep.

  “Ivy?” The voice jolted her from where she stood in the middle of her bedroom, unmoving.

  “Ivy, are you here? I knocked, but—”

  Ivy had no words for Ingrid as she turned and met her eyes.

  Ingrid looked like she’d been crying. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  Ivy just stared at her, blinking hard, a terrible rush of heat through her body, filling her throat.

  “I’m . . . I . . .” And then she felt herself crumpling. Pressing her hands over her mouth, she sank onto the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Ivy,” Ingrid said, the softness in her voice enough to unravel every last hardscrabble bit of control.

  Ivy shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Ingrid’s hand touched her back.

  “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t sign it, it would only be worse for Darek. This way . . .” She looked up. “If there was any other way, I would have found it.”

  “I know.” Ingrid sat on the bed and pulled Ivy to herself. “I know.”

  “You do?” Ivy leaned back. Met Ingrid’s eyes. “But—”

  “Ivy, I believe in you. I know you care for Darek—and Tiger.”

  “But my signature is on the petition.”

  “And the truth is in your eyes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Of course. I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt Darek or Tiger.”

  “But Darek—”

  “Darek is angry. He’s been angry for a long—very long—time. Mostly at himself, but he has a hard time seeing that. Sometimes it’s just easier to blame others than to look inside.”

  “He’s a good father.”

  “Of course he is. But he’s going to be a better father once he lets go of all that anger, when he starts to rely on God. Could be that God is using this to bring Darek to his knees.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would God let this happen to him?”

  “God sees more than we do. And I don’t understand the mind of the Almighty. But I do know His heart and the fact that He longs to rescue His children, to show them how much He loves them.”

  Ivy looked away. “I’m not a child. I don’t need God’s love.”

  Ingrid said nothing for a moment. Then, “It’s a terrible thing to believe that. We all need to believe God loves us. Otherwise, yes, we are alone.”

  Ivy blew out a breath, wiped her hands on her dress pants. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. And it doesn’t matter what the truth is. Darek is going to blame me for taking Tiger away from him, no matter what I say. People believe what they want, despite the facts. Emotions get in the way.”

  “Indeed.”

  Ivy frowned.

  “Oh, Ivy, you and Darek are so much alike. You’re basing your belief that God doesn’t love you on emotions. On your experiences. On what you think God’s love for you should look like. I felt that way once too. I lost a baby after Amelia. I’d done everything right, and I’d dedicated my life to being a mother. I was so angry at God—He didn’t have the right to take my child. I thought surely He didn’t love me. If He had, He would have saved my baby.”

  She touched Ivy’s hand. “I’d forgotten, in that moment, about the other children He’d given me. But even that wasn’t the bigger truth. Because of God’s love for me, I would see my child someday. It was that fact—and that emotion—that finally healed me.”

  Ivy frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Here are the simple facts. God gave us a law, and we break some aspect of it every day. We are greedy or selfish; we love ourselves more than God. The Bible says if we think we are without sin, we are lying to ourselves. The law, which we’ve broken, condemns us. To death, actually. But see, God, in His mercy, doesn’t want that—so He offered Jesus in your place. You get to live because Christ paid your penalty. God’s not impartial. If He was, He wouldn’t have sent Jesus. In fact, you could say God operates almost entirely on emotion—love.”

  Ivy stared at her.

  “God loves you, Ivy, and He has every day of your life. You might consider that He even saved your life by putting you in foster care. He hasn’t given up on you, hasn’t let you go, and He has brought you here, to this moment, for you to hear this truth. You have always belonged to Him.” She leaned in, pressed a kiss to Ivy’s cheek. “That truth should set you free to love, no matter what the cost.”

  “I don’t know. Emotions get me into trouble.”

  “God is a God of emotion. And it’s good. You don’t have to be afraid of caring. Of loving my son or my grandson.”

  Ivy glanced at her.

  “You look at him like I looked at John. Like I still look at John. As if he is my tomorrow. Where I belong.”

  No, she didn’t . . . did she?

  “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

  Ingrid squeezed her hand. “Take a chance on God. After all, He took a chance on you. I’ll bet He can fix this.”

  Maybe God had meant for Claire to stay in Deep Haven all along. Maybe His silence had nothing t
o do with what she had or hadn’t done with her life, and everything to do with—how had Jensen said it? You do that, Claire. Coax things back to life.

  Those words settled inside, nourished her, and for the first time, she could believe that she hadn’t just failed herself, her parents, God.

  She took off her gardening gloves, setting them beside the pruning shears, and felt deep in the soil for moisture to know how long to set the sprinklers. With the heat of July upon them, the roses needed extra TLC. Replacing her gloves, she picked up her shears.

  Perhaps, all this time, she’d just been waiting for a purpose. Like caring for her grandfather. And standing by Jensen.

  Loving Jensen.

  She smiled at that, letting the words seep through her. She’d always loved him, really, but how could she tell him that with Felicity in the way? He had a gentleness, a way of caring for others that no one else saw. And he didn’t condemn her for wanting to stay, to be safe. Yes, that he understood.

  She was still trying to convince herself that she hadn’t dreamed the moment when he’d said her name, drawn her close. Kissed her like he’d been holding his breath for three years—maybe more—and finally was drinking in air.

  But after days with no word, not even a hint that something magical had happened between them on the deck, she was trying to fight off the taste of panic. Yesterday she’d driven to her grandfather’s cabin, but even by nightfall, Jensen’s place remained dark. Maybe she should call him—or head up to his house and find the courage to knock on his door.

  It bothered her a little, not knowing where he was.

  Claire clipped off eager suckers shooting from the base of a rose, then a couple flimsy shoots that only stole life from the plant.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been busy, too, with her double shifts on Saturday and Sunday, feeding the extra firefighters holed up at various resorts around town.

  Certainly Jensen had an explanation. She’d simply trust him. Believe in him.

  He deserved that after all this time.

  She worked fertilizer into the soil before adding a fresh layer of loose mulch. Then she moved to the next plant.

  “Why are you hurting the flowers?”