by Lori Ryan
“That I am.” She leaned back in the chair and smiled, closing her eyes. “It’s sour cream. That’s Ivy’s secret ingredient.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to tell me.” Devlin dove into the sandwich, taking a bite as she began to realize just how hungry she was. She’d gone from barely being able to look at food without throwing up, to wanting to eat everything in sight. She hoped things didn’t swing back the other way.
“Oh, please.” Sally shook her head. “I hear you can’t boil water. There’s no chance of you reproducing Ivy’s recipe.”
“True,” Devlin murmured around her mouthful of food. She held up the sandwich. “This is incredible, too.”
“You won’t get any more secret ingredients out of me, Devlin Darby.”
Devlin wiped her mouth and laughed. “Okay.”
“How you feeling today?”
“Good. Sore, but good. The doctor said that was normal.”
“Are you taking pain meds?”
“Just Tylenol.” Devlin patted her stomach. “It’s all I’m allowed, but I’m fine, I don’t need anything stronger.” It was a lie. She was in horrible pain, especially her ribs, but she didn’t want to endanger the baby, and Tylenol was all she was allowed. “I am due for another dose, though. Would you mind grabbing them for me? They’re on the table, there.”
“I should make you sit there and suffer for what you’ve done to me.” She turned and reached for the medicine.
Devlin swallowed hard, afraid to hear the laundry list of wrongs she’d done in the past few days.
Sally handed her the pills and held up her glass of water.
Devlin took them without protest. “What did I do?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.
“You and junior there,” Sally pointed to her stomach, “cost me the biggest bet of my life.”
Devlin remembered the bet between her and Valerie, and the shirt the loser had to wear. She laughed but sucked in a breath and clutched her ribs when searing pain shot through her chest and abdomen.
“Oh, Devlin, I’m so sorry.”
“I, c-can’t…breathe,” Devlin choked out through tears of laughter, and pain.
“Here, I’ve got you.” Sally slid her hands around Devlin’s shoulders and eased her back. “Take a deep breath.”
“Can’t. Hurts too much.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m horrible at this.” Sally sat back down. “My kids always wanted one of their sisters to sit with them when they were sick.”
Devlin was finally able to catch her breath. “Horrible at what?”
“Empathy,” she said. “I’m more of a ‘Suck it up, buttercup’ kind of person.”
“But you have six girls.”
“I blame it on them. Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Sally said, sitting back down in her chair. “I love my girls, but come on, there were six of them. I didn’t have time to coddle them.” Sally glanced at Devlin’s stomach. “Stop at one, trust me. And whatever you do, stay awake during the delivery.”
“Uh, that’s my hope. Why would you say that, though?”
“You know all the girls are named after flowers, right?”
“Yes, I think it’s sweet.”
Sally narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not. Trust me. It’s ridiculous. And done behind my back.”
Devlin could sense a story but wasn’t sure if she should ask.
“My ex-husband was an alcoholic,” Sally said with no prodding. “He named my girls on a bar-room bet.”
“What? How? Didn’t you have to sign the birth certificate?”
“Yeah, but I was seriously doped up.”
“Why?”
Sally drew in a long breath and exhaled as if this would be a difficult story to tell. “With my first girl, I had a full placental abruption. Had to go under so they could save the baby.”
“Oh, no.” Devlin couldn’t imagine the pain Sally must have been in.
“They ended up doing an emergency C-section.” She continued. “Then with the second, they planned a C-section but she started to come early and by the time we got to the hospital, she was in distress so they knocked my butt out again. Long story short, I always wanted to name my daughter Sherrie.”
“Sherrie? Why?”
“From ‘Oh Sherrie,’ one of Steve Perry’s best songs. It was written for a muse he had a short love affair with.”
“You wanted to name your daughter after the lover of Steve Perry?” Devlin stared at her blankly, trying hard not to laugh.
“Yeah, my friends used to think it was weird too, but, whatever. I would pretend Steve was singing the song to me and it made me feel better.”
“Something’s wrong with you, you know that, right?”
Sally nodded with a smile. “Oh, I’m completely aware that my obsession borders on the insane.”
Devlin worked hard to bite back a laugh. “Okay, as long as you know.”
“So anyway, when I woke up, my dick of an ex-husband—Dick was his name, by the way.”
“Seriously?” Devlin asked.
“Well, it was Richard, but Dick is a nickname so…”
Devlin, bit back a laugh. The pain would be too intense. “Got it.”
“So anyway,” Sally said, “Dick named our daughter Ivy instead of Sherrie. He was always jealous of Steve, but who can blame him, really? I mean, come on, he’s Steve Perry.”
A small chuckle burst from Devlin and she winced. “Okay,” she said, holding her side, “but why Ivy?”
“Another long story,” she sighed.
“I like Ivy. It suits her.”
“It does,” Sally said, leaning back in her chair. “I hate to admit it, and I never would to her father, but he picked a good name. She grows on you, like ivy.” Sally laughed.
“I think the flower names are really sweet.”
“Yeah, well you won’t when you hear the story of why they’re all named after flowers.”
“Ivy isn’t really a flower though, is it?” she asked.
“Exactly,” Sally said, punctuating the word with a finger in the air. “Dick wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree, if you know what I mean. Some species of ivy do bloom though so, he’s not a complete moron I guess.” Sally turned to stare at her, cupping her mouth. “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Devlin nodded and mimed zipping her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.” She patted her chest. “So, what’s the story on the flower names?”
Sally let out a heavy sigh. “One of the assholes down at the local bar bet my ex-husband that I would never have a boy. Well, Dick was so sure our next baby would be a boy that he bet the guy and said we’d name every girl I had after a flower until we had a son. Of course, you know I only had girls, hence the names.”
“What did he bet? Couldn’t you have stopped it?”
“He bet my new Toyota Celica Supra, my pride and joy, the asshole. Hence, the ex part. I’d saved up years for that car.” Sally stared off into space as if reliving her love affair with her car. “If he didn’t name the kids after flowers, the guy would get the title to my car.”
“So, you had to keep naming them after flowers, if they were girls, or else lose the car?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Sally sat quiet. “Joke was on me, though.”
“Why?”
“I lost the car anyway.”
“How?” Devlin asked, setting the tray on the table.
“Because apparently Dick the prick thought gambling his monthly wages at a poker table was more important than paying our mortgage. Lost the car. And the house.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. Well, next came another girl, as you know. I was out for that one, too, and he named her Mia.”
“Mia’s not a flower either,” she said.
“It’s short for Camellia.” She turned and looked at Devlin. “And yes, before you ask, it’s a flower. But there was no way in hell I was going to call my daughter Camellia for the rest of her life.
I still have no friggin’ clue how the dipshit came up with that flower. I mean seriously, there was Rose and Heather and a shit ton of others.”
Devlin laughed and groaned in pain.
“Oh, sorry.” Sally patted her shoulder.
“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “Go on, this is a great story.”
“Maybe to you.” She scoffed. “Anyway, by the time we got to the third girl, flower names had kind of grown on me, not that I would ever admit that to Dick. Eight years later, no boys, and I end up with a flower shop of daughters.”
“Well, I love it. And I love your daughters too. They’re amazing.”
Sally’s smile held a mother’s pride. “They are. Despite what I put them through, they’re amazing girls.”
“What do you mean, what you put them through?”
“My ex-husband wasn’t just an alcoholic.” Sally paused and something in Devlin’s gut tightened. “He was abusive, physically. To me.”
She slipped her hand over Sally’s and squeezed.
“I should have left him. So many times, I should have left.”
“It’s hard,” Devlin said. “I get it.” And part of her did. Sally was one of the strongest, fiercest women she’d ever met. If she hadn’t found the strength to leave an abusive marriage, how could her mother have?
They sat in long silence, both reliving memories best kept in the past.
“What if I screw this up?” Devlin said softly, almost to herself. “For life, I mean.”
“Oh, you will,” Sally laughed, “trust me.”
Devlin swatted her hand. “I’m serious. I’m not maternal. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here, Sally.”
“None of us do, in the beginning. Thirty years later and I’m still clueless.”
“That’s comforting.” Devlin grinned.
“Hey, I’m a realist.” She shrugged. “The only advice I can give is to love them, more than you love yourself. That’s all I can say.”
Devlin thought about Sally’s advice for a moment. The thought that she might have lost this baby because of the car wreck had almost brought her to her knees in the hospital. She already did love this baby more than she’d realized. She thought back to her father. Had he ever loved her that much? Loved her mother that much?
“What happened?” Devlin said. “I mean with your ex-husband. I know you moved back to Canyon Creek when the girls were young.”
Sally sat quietly for a moment, in reflection.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s all right.”
“It’s just, I’m kind of inspired by your courage.”
Sally’s brows knitted together. “What courage?”
“You left him, left an abusive situation, right?”
“It took me a long time, but I did, finally. I know I stayed too long, though. There were times when he was great. We even went for several years when he got sober and we were in anger counseling or whatever, and everything seemed to really turn around. He just never seemed to be able to hold onto that.”
Devlin watched helplessly as Sally’s usually vibrant smile vanished.
“By the time it ended, things had gotten really bad,” she said, speaking softly. “It wasn’t an occasional slap here and there anymore. I had to start hiding the bruises. And then one day I came home and found Lily playing with her Barbies.” Sally sat silent, lost in a daze, or a nightmare.
Devlin swallowed hard, not sure if she should ask what happened next.
“She was holding Ken in one hand and Barbie in the other. Ken was yelling at Barbie, calling her names and then…” Sally bit her lip.
Devlin rubbed her arm.
“She swung her Ken doll into Barbie so hard, it tumbled to the floor. When I asked Lily what she was doing, she said, ‘That’s how boys treat girls.’ It hit me in that moment like a bat to the gut, and I knew I was screwing them up more by staying. I had to get the girls out of there.” Sally’s gaze met Devlin’s, a sheen of unshed tears glimmering in her blue yes. “The girls had problems for years.”
Devlin twisted her fingers in her lap and lowered her voice. “At least you left. My mom never did. I’m so afraid sometimes that I’ll end up like her, even though she always tells me I’m nothing like her.”
Sally reached out and touched her arm. “Was your father abusive?”
“Not physically. He was just…” how could she explain it?
“I understand,” Sally patted her arm. “There are always bruises you don’t see,” she said quietly. “It’s those bruises I worry the most about for my girls.”
Devlin could hear the heartache in Sally’s voice.
“You did the right thing, Sally. No matter what.”
“You know what I’ve learned, Devlin? How I’ve kept some of the guilt at bay?”
She shook her head, feeling as if great words of wisdom were about to fall from this otherwise lighthearted woman.
“It can happen to anyone. You don’t have to be weak or stupid, or anything like that to end up in an abusive relationship. I know a lot of people who are raised in dysfunctional homes find themselves in abusive situations,” she said. “But the funny thing is, I had a great childhood—parents who adored me, two brothers who loved and protected me—and I still ended up with an abusive spouse.”
Devlin sat quietly, knowing Sally wasn’t finished.
“It was stupid and rash. I knew it when I married him. But I was angry and hurt about someone else, and I thought Dick was my dream guy. He was, sometimes. But most of the time...”
Devlin looked at Sally, the older woman’s usual carefree attitude gone.
“Most of the time, he was my worst nightmare.” She turned and Devlin could see the anguish in her eyes. “I was afraid to leave, but I thought of the girls. I couldn’t put them through that, risk having them be abused too. Physically, I mean. So one day I sucked up my pride and did what I had to do. I asked for help.”
They both sat silently, the only sound coming from the leaves moving in the early evening breeze.
“I couldn’t have done it without Valerie and John. Or Mark and Lisa. If they hadn’t have taken us in, the girls and me, I just couldn’t have done it.”
“That was probably my mom’s problem,” Devlin said. “She really had no one. My father had isolated her a long time ago.”
“You know you’ll always have family here in Canyon Creek.” She smiled and Devlin felt a bubble of hope rise in her chest. “You’re carrying a Sumner now.”
She’d thought about that fact a lot lately. She’d be tied to this family, this town, forever now that she was carrying Max’s child.
“Don’t be too hard on your mom, Devlin. I know it seems easy enough to walk away, but trust me, it isn’t, even if you have a support group of family and friends. It’s hard to admit you were wrong when you’re afraid of what people will think. You’re afraid people will stand in judgment, waiting to say they told you so.”
Devlin sat and contemplated Sally’s words for a moment.
Sally broke the silence. “Is that why you’ve never settled down? Because you’re afraid you’ll end up in a situation like your mom was in?”
“I think so. I didn’t realize until recently that I was doing it, but yeah, I guess. I don’t really know.”
“That’s what I worry about for my daughters too. The example I showed them growing up, putting up with an abusive spouse, has put them off of marriage.”
“My father was very controlling over my mother, and me to some extent.” Devlin said. “I never wanted that when I grew up, but I think maybe I’ve taken that to the extreme.”
“A man telling you what to do?” Sally asked.
“Exactly.”
“Makes sense. I can see that in my girls.” She nodded and paused. “But not every man is like that, Devlin.”
“What’s that?”
“When you have the right man, it’s totally different. I never knew. I just lumped them al
l together.”
Devlin looked at Sally with surprise. “Maggie told me a little about you and Warner Noble. You were high school sweethearts?”
“Something like that. But life got in the way, stupid misunderstandings, and immature actions by a silly teenage girl cost me a lot in life.” Sally turned and faced Devlin. “It took me over thirty years to figure it out. Don’t let it take you that long, sweetie.”
“Hey,” a voice called from the doorway.
Devlin’s heart tripped in her chest at the sound of his deep, rich voice. She turned and looked up at Max, feeling relief and excitement at the sight of him.
He stood tall in the doorway, strong hands on either side of the frame, his T-shirt pulled taut across his broad chest. His dark hair was mussed and sexy as hell and his hazel eyes were trained on her. God, he was gorgeous.
“Am I interrupting a girls-only meeting?” He laughed, and the sound traveled straight between Devlin’s legs. The books were right. Pregnancy definitely heightened your sexual desire.
Sally stood and strode to Max. “Hey, sexy.” She smiled.
“You know that’s totally gross considering you’re my aunt.”
She nodded as she wrapped her arms around her nephew. “I know. I do it for the shock affect. Keeps you guys on your toes.”
Max engulfed her in his arms. “That’s why you do everything,” he laughed, kissing her head, “for the shock effect.”
“And usually it works.” She pulled back from Max’s embrace and glanced back over her shoulder. “Make her eat the rest of her dinner, then put her into bed.” She winked at Devlin.
Devlin felt her face flush.
“Will do.” Max smiled, but his eyes were on Devlin now, not his aunt.
“Bye kids.” She waggled her fingers in the air. “Her ribs are cracked, Max,” she called from inside the house, “use caution, get creative. I have faith in you, stud muffin.”
“Oh, my God,” Max shook his head.
“Sally!” Devlin shrieked, clutching her ribs in pain. But somewhere inside all she could picture was getting creative, with Max Sumner.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Max was still shaking his head as he walked toward Devlin. “Sometimes late at night, I pray that she was left on my grandparents’ doorstep, just so I can believe we’re not blood-relatives.”
