Remembering Ivy

by Claire Kingsley

  “Oh, my date.” I blinked a few times, trying to get my head back on straight. What was wrong with me? I’d gone out with Blake again, this time for dinner. “Right. It was nice.”

  “Nice?” she asked. We crossed the street and she stopped. Peter kept walking until he realized we weren’t beside him anymore, and paused. “That’s it?”

  A tendril of hair tickled the back of my neck, so I adjusted a bobby pin. “What do you want to know? We went to dinner and talked.”

  “And?”

  “And, nothing,” I said. “I met him there, so I drove myself home.”

  “You’re so boring,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m sorry my fledgling love life isn’t entertaining enough for you,” I said. “I’ll try to make the next date more exciting.”

  “So there will be a next date?”

  I shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “You’re not very enthusiastic,” she said.

  “I’m just not sure,” I said. “On paper, he seems great. He’s good-looking, well-dressed, successful. I did learn he’s never been married, and he calls his mother every week.”

  “All good things,” she said. “But?”

  “But I don’t know if I’m attracted to him,” I said. “I didn’t feel much of anything. I think you were right about needing a dating ice-breaker, but I’m not sure if this is going anywhere.”

  “Well, that’s fair,” she said with a little shrug. “If there’s no attraction, you can’t really force it. Do you think you’ve given it enough of a chance?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe not? I’ll probably go out with him again.”

  She gave me a subtle smile. “How many times did you quote Jane Austen?”

  “What? None.”

  “Who did you quote, then?” she asked.

  “I don’t know… Fine, I think Melville and maybe Tolstoy. I can’t help it.”

  “If you found someone who is not a lit teacher who will ask you out again after dealing with an evening of your literary references, you need to at least give him a few dates,” she said.

  “Fair enough.”

  “If he does word puzzles, you might have to marry him,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes and started walking toward my building. “I’ll see you later, Jess. Bye, Peter.”

  Peter glanced up and nodded. Jessica caught up with him and he slipped his arm around her waist, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. They were so cute.

  My back prickled, and I glanced over my shoulder. Mr. Amazing was watching me. He stood outside the coffee shop across the street, leaning against the building like he had been when I’d seen him downtown. As if he didn’t have a care in the world, and staring at a perfect stranger was a completely normal thing to do. He had both cups of coffee in his hands, and I wondered again if he’d ordered that second one for me.

  Which was proof of how crazy I was being. Of course he hadn’t bought me coffee. That was just silly.

  Runaway

  The dog park was mostly empty—just an older man with a yellow lab who was much more interested in chasing a tennis ball than in anything Edgar was doing. Low clouds hung in the sky, threatening rain. I hoped it wouldn’t pour on us before Edgar had a chance to run his energy out. Sometimes he was happy to nap all day, but today he was antsy. He’d been driving me crazy at home, so we’d walked to the dog park where he could run free in a much larger space than my backyard.

  I threw a ball and he brought it back, covered in dog slobber. But I was used to it. In between tosses, my phone buzzed. It was Jessica, inviting me over for a movie tonight. A likely excuse. She just wanted to hear about my date with Blake.

  I’d gone out with Blake again the night before. Dinner at a nice Mediterranean bistro. It had been… okay. We’d chatted through dinner, and nothing about the evening had been bad. But I’d still felt the lack of chemistry. I couldn’t figure out why I was having no physical reaction to this man. He was always dressed in a well-tailored suit, for god’s sake. That was to women what lingerie was to men.

  Like I’d told Jessica, he checked all the right boxes. He was intelligent and successful. Attractive. He had an air of confidence: a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to go after it. I had no doubt he melted the panties off half the women he met.

  Mine, however, had remained firmly intact.

  I wondered what was holding me back. Was it simply that he and I weren’t hitting it off? He’d seemed to enjoy my company, and I knew he was going to ask me out again. In fact, I’d gotten the distinct impression that if I’d been willing, our date wouldn’t have ended with dinner.

  Maybe I was simply too out of touch with my sexuality. I’d put everything on hold to be my dad’s caregiver, and it hadn’t helped that my ex had left me in the midst of it. Was there a switch I could flip to turn it back on?

  I tossed the ball again for Edgar, wondering what my dad would have thought of Blake. It was hard to say. My dad had been a quiet man who kept his cards close. I hadn’t been sure what he’d thought of Julian until after our relationship had ended. Only then had he told me he hadn’t thought much of him, and he’d been relieved I hadn’t married him.

  It had been a bit surprising, because Julian was a lot like my dad. Studious and rather stoic. Dedicated to his work. Blake was much more outgoing. I could imagine him engaging my dad in conversation, feeling him out to see what he was interested in. Settling in on a topic they could both engage with. Blake had that sort of social acumen my dad had lacked, but appreciated in others.

  Edgar dropped the ball at my feet.

  “We’re done, buddy,” I said. “It’s time to go home.”

  He bent his legs, like he was ready to spring, and nudged the ball with his nose.

  “Nope, let’s go.” I put the ball back in the bin and took Edgar through the gate. I was just about to clip on his leash when his ears swiveled. He barked once, then took off running.

  “Edgar!”

  A squirrel raced down a tree and darted across the road, Edgar close behind. I called for him, but he ignored me, running after the squirrel. Despite getting older, he was still fast. In no time, he disappeared around a corner.

  My stomach dropped. He hadn’t run away from me like this since he was a puppy. I hurried up the street, still calling for him, expecting him to come back any second. I turned the corner, but saw no sign of him.

  “Edgar!”

  I kept going, but didn’t see or hear him. At the next crossroads, I paused, looking around. He could have gone anywhere. Up one street, down another, in someone’s yard. I had no idea which way to go.

  Picking a direction, I jogged for a while, calling his name. When I didn’t see him, I doubled back and tried another street. The longer I went without finding him, the more I started to panic. Where had he gone? What if I couldn’t find him?

  The streets around my house were all quiet, but if he went too far in any direction, he’d encounter traffic. What if he ran out in front of a car? What had gotten into him?

  I decided to circle back to the park to see if he was there. Still no sign of him—just the man with his yellow lab.

  “Oh my god, Edgar,” I muttered. I pulled out my phone to text Jessica. If she and Peter came to help, we could spread out and cover more area. I typed while I walked, heading toward my house in case he’d found his way home.

  Just as I was about to hit send, a man came around the street corner, carrying Edgar. Carrying my one-hundred-pound dog.

  I ran toward them, but stopped in my tracks when I realized who the man was. The guy from Café Lit. Mr. Amazing. My maybe-stalker.

  His face was so… calming. It was difficult to be alarmed by those dreamy blue eyes. He had the look of a man who hid nothing—who wore his soul on the outside, rather than tucked away in some deep, dark place that required a lot of digging to find.

  But if he was carrying Edgar—

  “Oh my god, is he okay?” I asked, running t
he rest of the way toward them. Edgar would never let a stranger pick him up like that. “What happened? Is he hurt? Did he get hit by a car?”

  “No,” the man said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. “No, he’s okay. He took me on quite the chase, though. He was limping a little, so I picked him up. I think he’s just worn out.”

  “He’s… you chased him?” I scratched the sides of Edgar’s face. “Edgar, what got into you? You silly old man, you can’t go running off like that.”

  The man lowered Edgar to the ground and he promptly flopped to his side. I crouched next to him and stroked his fur. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, but other than needing some water—and maybe a nap—he seemed fine. His hips were probably sore from all the running.

  “Don’t do that to me again,” I said.

  Edgar just leaned forward and sniffed my face.

  I glanced up at the man. He was watching me with a little half-smile, his hands in his pockets. His cheeks were flushed and there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. I felt like I should have been wary—my creeper-guy alarms going off. But they weren’t.

  “How did you find him?” I asked.

  “I saw him run off,” he said. “So I ran after him.”

  I stood slowly, wondering whether my intuition was failing me, and I was about to get kidnapped. But I couldn’t convince myself to be scared of this guy. “You just happened to be nearby?”

  He shrugged.

  “Do you live around here?”

  “No,” he said.

  I paused. “Have you been following me?”

  His eyes twitched, just a hint of emotion passing across his features. Too quickly for me to tell what it meant. “Yes.”

  I’d been poised to argue, assuming he’d deny it, so his reply caught me completely off guard. “Wait, did you just say yes?”

  There was that half-smile again, just the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yes, I have been following you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re Ivy.” His tone was completely serious—not a hint of sarcasm—as if that should explain everything.

  “I… I don’t know what to say to that.”

  He stepped closer and held out his hand. Edgar glanced up at him, but didn’t so much as growl.

  “I’m William,” he said. “William Cole.”

  I slipped my hand into his. My skin tingled at his touch. “Ivy Nichols.”

  He nodded and squeezed my hand, more of a caress than a proper handshake. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Ivy.”

  “Finally? I… What?”

  William crouched down and rubbed Edgar’s belly. His back leg twitched. “You gave your mama quite a scare, buddy. Don’t do that again.”

  I was so bewildered, I had no idea what to say. This man—William; at least I knew his name now—had just appeared out of nowhere, carrying my dog. He admitted to following me, and was now giving Edgar—who hated people—a belly rub.

  A few drops of rain fell, splattering against the pavement. One landed on my cheek, a little shock of cold on my skin. I blinked and glanced up at the sky. It was definitely going to rain.

  Edgar stood, as if he didn’t want to get soaked any more than I did. William straightened and gave me a warm smile.

  “You should probably get inside,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

  As William turned and started walking away, the rain got heavier. Large drops pattered against the ground and Edgar shook his head. I wanted to say something else, but it was like I’d forgotten how to speak. I watched, dumbfounded, while William walked down the street, pulling his hood up against the rain.

  Edgar nudged my leg with his nose.

  “What just happened?” I asked. He looked up at me as if to say, why are we standing here getting wet? “Good question, buddy. Let’s go.”

  With one more glance at the retreating figure of William, I turned toward home. Edgar stayed by my side—no more chasing squirrels, thankfully. The rain got heavier, and by the time we got to my house, my coat was dripping wet. Edgar shook himself before we went inside, but I still had to towel him off. He went to the kitchen, drank down half a bowl of water, and promptly fell into his dog bed, exhausted.

  “Oh sure, you scare the crap out of me and then you get a nap.”

  He ignored me.

  I glanced out my front window. The sky was dark with clouds and the rain came down hard.

  Who was William Cole? Why had he been following me? It occurred to me then that he’d known my name. When I’d asked him why he’d been following me, he’d said because you’re Ivy. What did that mean? How did he know who I was?

  Once again, I had to acknowledge that everything about this should be alarming—but wasn’t. He’d admitted to following me, and that should have thrown up red flags all over the place. But I wasn’t concerned. I was intrigued. More than intrigued, I was fascinated. Who was this man?

  I didn’t know the answer. But I was sure about one thing. That wasn’t going to be the last time I ran into William Cole.

  Because You’re Ivy

  It didn’t surprise me to see William standing outside Café Lit Monday morning. The sky was cloudy, but it was dry, and he wore a black coat. He smiled at me as I approached and held out one of the two coffee cups he held.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  I hesitated, but reached out to take the coffee. “Morning.”

  “Sixteen-ounce latte?”

  “How did you know?” I asked, curling my hands around the warm cup.

  “I asked the barista,” he said.

  At least that made sense. Some of the baristas here remembered my usual drink. “Okay… thanks.”

  “Can I walk you to work?” he asked.

  I glanced through the window into the coffee shop.

  “She’s not here,” he said.

  “Who?”

  “Your friend,” he said. “Jessica.”

  “She’s… oh.” I pulled out my phone and sure enough, I had a text from Jess, saying she was running late this morning. “Wait, how do you know her name?”

  “The barista.”

  “You asked the barista for her name?”

  “No, the barista calls out names with orders.” He shrugged. “I just pay attention.”

  I eyed him for a second. That must have been how he knew my name. “Well, okay then.”

  He smiled again, and it gave me funny tingly feelings in my tummy. He fell in step next to me and we crossed the street.

  “Thanks again for getting Edgar for me the other day,” I said. “I can’t remember the last time he ran off like that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So… you were just walking by and happened to see Edgar bolt?”

  “I was in the neighborhood, yes.”

  “Because you’ve been following me.”

  “Yes.”

  God, this was so strange. “Do you know where I live?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what have you been doing? Trying to peek in my windows?”

  He glanced at me with his brow furrowed, like he was confused. “Why would I try to peek in your windows?”

  “Well… I don’t know,” I said. “Isn’t that why a man would follow a woman around? Trying to get a peek at something he shouldn’t?”

  He stopped and put his hand gently on my arm, turning me to face him. He looked so concerned. “Has someone been peeking in your windows?”

  “What? No.” His touch was so distracting, even through my coat. “That’s not what I meant. You’re the one who’s been stalking me, so if you’re not peeking in my windows, then I guess no one is.”

  “Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “But if someone ever does, let me know.”

  I gaped at him for a second. He gave my arm a gentle squeeze and started walking. As if propelled by a force beyond my control, I walked with him, staying by his side. I noticed he knew exactly where to go; he obviously knew which building
was mine.

  “Listen, you need to tell me what’s going on,” I said. “You can’t just admit to following someone without offering an explanation.”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Try.”

  “I’ve just been looking out for you,” he said.

  “Why?”

  He paused again and met my eyes. “Because you’re Ivy.”

  “You said that on Saturday,” I said. “And it still doesn’t make sense.”

  He smiled and there was that funny feeling in my insides again. We resumed walking.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “Just because my name is Ivy?”

  “No, not because of your name,” he said. “Because that’s who you are.”

  “Still not making sense, William.”

  “I said it was hard to explain.”

  “Why do you think I need someone to look out for me?” I glanced around and didn’t bother to keep the hint of sarcasm out of my voice. “Am I in danger?”

  He hesitated, as if he was giving my question a lot of thought. “I don’t know.”

  That sent a chill down my spine. “You don’t know if I’m in danger?”

  “I don’t think you are now,” he said. “But you might be someday. I’m not sure.”

  This conversation was making less sense the longer it went on. “I really don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to worry about it,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Who are you?” It probably wasn’t the right question, but it was all I could think to ask.

  We’d reached my building and he stepped back, that cryptic almost-smile on his face. “I told you, my name is William Cole.” He gestured to my building with his coffee. “And I think you have to go to work.”

  “Well, yes, I do.”

  “I’ll see you later, Ivy,” he said.

  I stood there, staring at him as he walked away. My sense of equilibrium was gone, like the ground and sky had switched places.

  “Bye, William,” I muttered.

  “Are you okay, Dr. Nichols?”

  I gasped at the voice. One of my students was looking at me with her head tilted to the side.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.