"Get it in gear, Nielsen," he muttered to himself as he trudged up the hill. "You must have faith. What kind of pathetic old man have you become not to believe in the most enchanting woman you ever met? You must believe that Ivy will come back to Spook Hills, back to her new home and back to you."
***
After five empty days in Bar Harbor, Ivy drove the expressway down to Boston and flew to London, registering at a small hotel where she had stayed several times before. From there, she rented a car, drove down to Cornwall and sat by the sea, thinking of all those Rosamunde Pilcher novels she had read long ago with her simplistic approach to romance. No one snuck around her corners of Cornwall shooting with intent to kill. The aura of Pilcher's ghost would have to be her protection on the rocky coast with its dramatic cliffs and hidden sandy beaches.
Following three days in Cornwall with its summer weather turning hot, on her birthday of June 15th, Ivy drove back to Heathrow, turned in the rental car, took the train into the city, and stayed overnight in a trendy hotel. The next morning, she checked out and took an early train to Edinburgh, surprising herself by enjoying a hearty Scottish breakfast in the dining car. As she savored the simple tastes of thick, ham-like bacon and English-style scrambled eggs, she realized her appetite was coming back. More than that, she wanted Steve. She could envision him sitting with her on the train, sharing what should be a vacation adventure with him.
After a couple of days in Edinburgh at a small, quiet hotel, she took a train to Glasgow, overnighted in a non-descript tourist hotel and drove to Portree on the Isle of Skye where she moved into a bed and breakfast. As she walked around that rugged, windswept isle, she could feel herself coming back together. The shattered sensation that had been haunting her was retreating. Bit-by-bit parts of her essence were refinding each other and knitting new, and hopefully stronger, bonds. Her nervous system was becoming more reliable, her heart had ceased its sporadic fits of pounding, and that elusive part of her that must be her soul crept out of wherever it had been hiding, making her feel more complete.
She spent a week wandering the rocky coastline and seeing the Isle of Skye. One day, she hired a local guide to take her hiking into the highlands. Walking the cold, wind-blown path up the side of the mountain to a hidden loch, she discovered that she needed Steve more than she feared the bad guys. The time had come to do more than send a short email.
Secure Email from Ivy Littleton, June 27, 2013
My Dearest Steve,
I have left Scotland after spending some days in Edinburgh and then more than a week on the Isle of Skye, roaming its highlands and rugged coastlines. While you have never been out of my thoughts, by the time I boarded the train from London to Edinburgh, some of my depleted reserves had returned and I had the energy to daydream about you. Until that time, so little of me was alive that the part of my brain that dreams had no ability to function. I can appreciate that these weeks have been devastating for you. However you must know in your heart that when I am sufficiently healed, when I have my inner strength back, and when I can no longer stand being apart from you, that I will return.
In my mind, you sat across from me on the Edinburgh train eating a full Scottish breakfast. You walked around that historic city with me, reveling in the twisting, scenic streets, the views, and the sheer Scottishness of it all. You snuggled with me at night, warming me with your love. You were on the Isle of Skye as I roved the Highlands and braved the winds on the coast. At night, I let my thoughts linger on memories of you kissing me, holding me, and becoming as much a part of each other as it is possible to be. Those thoughts and memories have helped to heal me.
I fear I have let you down, the way I crumbled so seemingly easily. What you don't know, because I could never talk about it and made every effort not to show it, is that work had stolen my life. When I met you, years of continual stress had so worn me down, that my life had become one gray series of days to plow through. Oh yes, I kept up a facade, but inside I had nothing left to give. Then you came and made the world have color again. My blood began to hum in my veins. Suddenly I had positive forces to bolster me up. However only time without the negative grind could repair the underlying damage and time was what I was not to have.
So many things changed so quickly -- you and Mathew moved in. FBI agents were staked out in the garage and following me everywhere I went. You and Mathew left the FBI. You bought Spook Hills together to make it our new home. You proposed, giving me a new life. I retired and thought that working with you on Spook Hills, I could recover. Then all too quickly, that peace was shattered. As soon as I had a glimpse of that man on my deck at the Portland house, the threads that were holding me together snapped, flew about the room and lay in shards around me. I could no longer keep up the pretense that all was well with Ivy.
Please believe that I did not leave because of you. I left for you. I left for us. I left for me. I had to find what was left of me, pull the shattered pieces back together, put as much heavy-duty glue as possible in the cracks and plug up the holes so that I can be strong again.
I cannot tell you when that will be -- next week, next month, next year. I only can tell you that it will be. I hope that you still love me enough to be there when I can come back to you. You are the center of my world that has kept the essence of me breathing.
With all my Love,
Ivy
P.S. Give Mathew and my dear corgis and Druid hugs for me and remember the feel of my arms around you, as I cherish the memories of the warmth of yours around me.
***
Steve pushed back from his laptop after reading Ivy's email. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, one that seemed like he had been holding since she departed, leaving him standing and crying in the lobby of the Heathman Hotel. She still loves me, he whispered. Now he better understood what caused her to crumble. While he was sorry that she had not told him at the time, he well understood having a misplaced sense of pride. She still loves me, he said out loud, no longer whispering. He could feel the joy spreading outward from his heart, filling him up. He wanted to be with her. While he wanted at least to call her, he understood that this opening up had been hard for her. He remembered when he first met her, he had noticed a flickering emotion that would creep into her eyes -- fear, conflict or a troubling memory -- and she would quickly push it back out of sight. Now he understood that even then she had been fighting to hold herself together. He had to give her the time to rebuild in her own way. Perhaps if she found she was not the only one with issues, it would make the healing process a little easier for her.
Secure Email from Steve Nielsen, June 27, 2013
Oh, my darling Ivy, how precious having you open up is to me! I have been living in a quagmire of guilt and despair, fearful that my crazy life had driven you away from me forever. I have been so worried that not only had I put you in mortal danger, but also I had robbed you of your home, your peace of mind, your health, and your strength.
To hear that you still want me and to understand that more was happening with you than I appreciated have combined to raise my spirits. For the first time in weeks, my inner self has a chance of becoming whole again. You had woken up parts of me that were in hibernation. Having felt those parts come alive, I no longer wanted to revert to the half-man I used to be.
If it is any comfort, let me tell you something about me that I held back from you. Heck, I held it back from myself for a long time because I refused to admit that age was catching up with me. My reactions started slowing down. While not a lot, it was enough to make a difference in situations where split second timing is required. The last four missions I was on only went as well as they did because of the teams I had, the planning we did, and support from other units. That last one, the one on the yacht, was the worst. I damn near got us all killed. I never had the courage to discuss it with you -- I was so afraid you would think less of me. When we are together again, I will tell you how it played out, but that was the reason I told you one of yo
ur angels was riding on my shoulder.
If we learn nothing else from this time apart, we should learn to be open with each other. We should not hide what is troubling us from pride, from fear of appearing diminished in each other's eyes or from the terrifying thought that our honesty about natural human changes would drive us apart. We must have more faith in ourselves and in each other. While the love we share is as ethereal as the gossamer wings of a butterfly, it is also stronger than any substance we know.
If one of us is unable to talk about a troublesome topic, thought or emotion, then let us commit to sending each other emails now and again. They can be love letters or confessions of inner doubts or soul searching we are doing or reminders to each other of who we are. I have spent years searching for you. We must not allow our overgrown senses of personal dignity to get in the way of deepening our love.
Take as much time as you need, my dearest Ivy. If you want me, I will be there by your side as fast as a jet can transport me. Until that time, I will be at Spook Hills, making the land we bought into a home for you to fill with love and happiness. When you are ready, we will enjoy each other and grow old together.
Ivy, my Ivy, I love you more than I ever thought was possible,
Steve
***
Ivy took a circuitous route back to Portland, first staying in London at a modern hotel for a few days, testing her newfound strength. Early on the fourth morning, she checked flights online, found one with some open seats and packed, planning to take the train out to Heathrow, buy a ticket at the airport and fly from London to Washington D.C. From there she would book a flight to Denver and then another one to Portland.
Once in Portland, she found a vacation rental of a studio apartment in the Pearl that she took for a week. In the apartment or out walking, still in her disguise, she spent three days making sure she was confident in her decision to rejoin Steve. The next day she planned to leave for Spook Hills by a roundabout route to shake anyone who might try to follow her. She wanted to surprise Steve. He needed to understand that she would not leave again. Wandering and being away from him were not how she could live. She was determined to stand by his side to face whatever might lie ahead and not take this coward's way out. She had to get her nerves under control; she accepted that. Now it was time to be there for Steve.
She was full of joy at the prospect of seeing him. She found she was eager to see Mathew too. She wanted her corgis and cat around her. Now was the time to pick up the threads of her old life at Spook Hills. Her heart was suddenly so hopeful and full of promise that she wanted to leave right away, however she had been cautious over the past weeks. She could be watchful for another day, or two, or even three, until she was safely back with Steve.
PART III
Chapter 15
Mathew sat near Ivy's and Steve's beds at the hospital in Portland. Neither one had fully regained consciousness after the shooting at Spook Hills and their surgeries. A bullet hit Ivy within minutes of her arrival back at Spook Hills. She woke up on and off but was too disoriented to talk. Steve lay in the bed opposite in a coma after losing a great deal of blood when he was shot twice as he spun around to fling himself in front of Ivy after the first shot hit her in the shoulder.
With each of them lying in front of him, Mathew wondered if he should be out trying to catch whoever was responsible for this travesty, but he felt compelled to stay with Steve and Ivy as their personal guard and friend. FBI agents were on duty in the hallway; they covered for Mathew in the room when needed. The Bureau had a team after the perps with Brian and Moll acting as consultants, making Mathew glad that the Bureau took care of their own, even former agents. This was his time to be there for his two friends, even though he felt useless just sitting there and waiting. While he could not make them better, Mathew could help them when they woke up. He prayed he would get that chance.
He was so saddened and angered that Ivy and Steve had been attacked so viciously and devastatingly. Similar to the shooting at the Portland house, this shooting had all the earmarks of a vendetta, where the attackers also went after Ivy first. He was thankful that Steve and Ivy did have their reunion, even though it only lasted a minute. At least they had that to hang onto. Mathew had to believe they would both recover and live to get married because their hearts were so intertwined.
He noticed that Ivy had moved again. This time her eyes were open and she was trying to sit up. He jumped out of his chair and rushed to help her.
"Steve?" she asked weakly.
Mathew nodded over to the next bed. The nightstand hid Steve’s face from Ivy's view. She began to struggle to get out of bed. He gently pushed her back and rang for the nurse. Once she had fussed over Ivy and checked the IV and monitors, the nurse left the room. Ivy whispered. "Is he sleeping?"
"He's in a coma, Ivy. The doctors aren't sure why. He lost a great deal of blood."
"Have to see him. Touch him."
Mathew nodded, moved the IV and monitor trolley and helped her sit up.
"Where do you think you're going?" The same nurse bustled back in with a refill for one of the substances going into Ivy.
"To see Steve."
"Lay back down," the nurse ordered Ivy. "And Agent, don't tell me this is protocol. You get back to your post in that chair."
"I have to see him," Ivy said in what was supposed to be a firm voice, but it came out as a rustling murmur.
"Please nurse," Mathew interjected. "These two have the most incredible bond. They are engaged to be married. Ivy might be able to reach him and bring him back to us."
The nurse gave him a steely glare, then handed Ivy two pills and a paper cup of water. "Take these."
As she left the room, the nurse turned to Mathew. "That medication will start working in 10 minutes. Right now, I am going on break. When I come back, I expect to see her exactly as she is. And you," she said sternly, "You had better be sitting in that chair like their guardian angel. A doctor will be in shortly."
As soon as the nurse's footsteps faded, Mathew scooted over to the bed, gently pulling Ivy up. She helped as she could even though she was weak and only had use of one arm. Once her feet were on the floor, Mathew supported her by her waist, taking most of her weight and helping her shuffle over to Steve's bed.
She reached down to take Steve's hand, leaned over and began calling softly. "Steve, Steve, wake up. I need you. Come back. Come back to me." She stroked his cheek and kept calling him, but he lay there as impassively as he had since his surgery. Tears ran down Ivy's face and Mathew could feel her sagging heavily against him. He slowly moved her back to her bed, settled her under the covers and arranged the IVs and monitor cables. She closed her eyes, lying there with a very troubled expression on her face. Mathew took a tissue and wiped away the tears on her cheeks, pressed her hand and went to sit down, making it back right before the nurse's footsteps approached.
The nurse checked both patients, nodded at Mathew and left. Every few hours Mathew helped Ivy over to Steve's bed. Several nurses yelled at them and threatened Mathew, but he would give them a charming smile and say that they needed Steve awake to question him about the shooters. One by one, through a mixture of charm and persistence, he wore the nurses down. Each time Ivy was getting stronger when she woke up, always wanting to be near Steve. The nurses began taking the monitors and drips off.
Towards dinnertime on the day she first woke up, Ivy whispered her concerns about Steve. "What will we do if he doesn't wake up? What if he has brain damage from the blood loss?"
"He will come back to us, Ivy. He has a great constitution and he is fit. Inside of that body of his, he is healing. Give him time and try not to worry."
"This is my fault. I shouldn't have come back."
"Ivy, this shooting would have happened sooner or later. If you did not come back, Astuto would have sent some goons after just Steve and me. The Bureau is on it. The bastard will be caught, even if I have to rejoin the FBI to do it. You stay calm and heal for Steve. He w
ill need you when he wakes up."
The next morning, Ivy put on make-up and fixed her hair as best she could with one arm. Color was starting to return to her face. Mathew could not help but smile watching her primping.
"From the first time I saw you together at the airport last fall, I was struck by how you would lean towards each other. I have seen you in the same room standing or sitting several feet apart, yet leaning towards each other. You are so drawn together."
"You're exaggerating."
"A compelling force pulls you together. If you get within a certain distance of each other, you are always in physical contact. Never before had I understood Aristotle's comment that love is composed of one soul inhabiting two bodies. You two illustrate that concept."
"Actually I think that love is a merging of two souls into one. We are each too independent not to have individual souls."
Mathew was glad to see that despite her injury and the drugs she was on, that Ivy's mind remained sharp and even argumentative. However the conversation and the primping had tired her and she slid groggily back against the pillow. Mathew went over to make her more comfortable and watched her go to sleep in a few seconds. He put her makeup away, then went over and talked to Steve for a bit, but had no response. Could Steve hear him and either could not, or given his stubbornness, would not react? He went over to his backpack, took out the electric razor he had brought with him and gave Steve a shave. Every day the hospital staff bathed him. A physical therapist came in the afternoons to exercise his legs and right arm. His hair needed a trim, but that was more than Mathew could do.
Mathew wanted to pick up lunch for himself, and judging by Ivy's disgust with the hospital's food the previous evening, he would get some light fare for her too. He asked one of the agents in the hall to stay with Steve and Ivy. Maybe he would try putting food under Steve's nose. If Ivy failed to wake him, maybe food could.
Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) Page 18
