by Arlene James
“Ivy, how could you take him back after that?”
“I didn’t have anyone else,” she pointed out, sounding somewhat desperate for him to understand. “My father wouldn’t speak to me, told me never to contact him again. It had been years since I’d lived anyplace long enough to really make friends, and I was such a wreck after the baby was born. Brand took care of me until I could cope again, and I convinced myself that he truly loved me. I think I had to believe it. I found out later that we’d been offered a national syndication deal and that he needed me as part of the team to get it.”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds like a courageous social hero, all right,” Ryan sniped sarcastically. “He’s willing to challenge all the social norms except those about making money.”
“You don’t know how right you are. When the contract offer first came to light, it seemed like such a stroke of luck. But I couldn’t help thinking that if it had only come before I signed those adoption papers, I wouldn’t have had to give her up. I wanted to reclaim her. We fought about it endlessly. And then it was just too late.”
“But you stayed together?”
“More or less. I could never get over my resentment. For a long time, I just went through the motions to keep the peace, while Brand became ever more outrageous on air to keep the ratings up and the money coming in. The whole thing became a terrible, sick parody. I knew he played around, cheated on me. It didn’t seem to matter. That’s just Brand, his cynical, self-centered view of the world, and we hadn’t been anything more than roommates for a long time by then.” She shook her head. “It all used to sound so exciting, back when I was young and stupid. The tripe he spewed about marriage being antithetical to human nature actually made sense to me at one time.”
“With your parents to go by, I’m not surprised,” Ryan muttered. Then he realized what he had said and sat up a little straighter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s perfectly true,” she insisted. “Everyone in Eden knew that my mother cheated on my father as casually as she waved at our neighbors in the street. Why he put up with it as long as he did, I’ll never understand. I was about eleven when she took off the last time. After a while when he realized she wouldn’t be back, he divorced her, and that was that.”
“I think that must be when I really came to know your dad,” Ryan mused.
“That’s because he started going to church then,” Ivy said. “But his religion didn’t seem to lessen his bitterness. Rather, it seemed to increase it, as if it made her even more wrong and forgiveness was impossible. By the time I met Brand in college, I wanted nothing to do with my father’s religion. Then a few months ago I met someone who made me see that it isn’t about religion. It’s about Jesus and what happened on that cross.”
Ryan smiled, relieved to the soles of his feet. “I am so glad to hear you say that.”
Ivy laughed, actually laughed. “I may have messed up my life, but at least I found my soul. You can’t know how rich forgiveness really is,” she went on, “unless you’ve sinned, really sinned, against God. For all that, though, I pray no one ever makes the mistakes that I have. Does that make sense?”
Ryan nodded. “I think so.”
“Once I had made my peace with God,” she said gently, “I could no longer live the lie.”
“What happened?”
“Just what you’d expect. Brand told me in lurid detail what an idiot I am. To his way of thinking, everyone in the world is an idiot except him. He derided every tenet of Christianity, and ultimately offered me a choice.”
“The same as before, I take it; his way or the highway.”
“And I chose the highway, literally. He chose the divorced receptionist at the radio station in Tulsa where we were working,” she added wryly, eyebrows raised. “Apparently she was smarter than me. He married her before I could get my stuff out of the apartment.”
“Oh, Ivy. How awful for you.”
“Humiliating, frankly.”
“You must hate him,” Ryan whispered. He knew without a doubt that in her position that was how he would feel.
“I pity him,” she said. “I wish him well. Truly I do. As impossible as it seems now, I loved him once, and I don’t blame him for my mistakes. I should have known better. The truth is, I did know better, and eventually I couldn’t outrun that fact anymore. Now all I care about is trying to make up for some of the damage I’ve done.”
“That’s why you came home,” Ryan realized, somewhat humbled by her attitude.
“Yes.”
Ryan thought of Olie and the ugly, bitter, judgmental attitude about his own daughter. He couldn’t imagine his father or grandfather doing any of the things Olie had done, regardless of the circumstances. “I’m so sorry that your father hasn’t welcomed you as you’d hoped.”
“It’s important that I reach out, but I can only do my own part and let Dad do his,” she said. “I’m terribly thankful for Rose and that I could be here for her and the boys. I’m just so sad that she’s had to go through losing a child.” Tearing up again, she croaked out, “Oh, Ryan, there’s no other pain like that. None.”
He understood now how Ivy had suffered. For her, Rose’s loss was like giving up her own daughter all over again. He saw, too, that she had risked, and received, her father’s rejection for a second time. Some in town might condemn Ivy for her past, but he could only admire her courage, which he found somewhat unsettling. Glancing at his watch, he rose to leave.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he told her.
“I understand.” She got up, and together they walked toward the front door. “Thank you, Ryan. For everything.”
“You’re very brave to have faced your mistakes, Ivy. I want you to know how much I admire your courage.”
“And I want you to know how much I admire all of the Jeffords. Honestly, Ryan, I was terribly confused for a very long time about what the church actually taught, but whenever I thought of what Christians ought to be, I always thought of your family. You’ve shown me how right I was to choose that example for myself.”
He blushed. Working around teenagers for so long, he thought he had forgotten how, but the heat that crept up his throat and burst into his cheeks proved otherwise. Before he could formulate a gracious reply to that very fine and probably undeserved, at least on his part, compliment, she opened the door and walked him outside.
“I’ll be leaving Eden as soon as my sister is well enough to take care of her boys,” she revealed. “So, have a wonderful life, Ryan, and thank you again.” Framing his face with her cool, slender hands, she stretched up and tenderly kissed him on the lips. “Goodbye.”
With that, she went back inside, but her light kiss had so stunned him that he couldn’t be sure. He stood there like a dummy until the sound of a dog barking in the next-door neighbor’s yard finally brought him back to his senses.
Troubled by his own visceral reaction to that light, friendly kiss, he turned and tramped to his car, telling himself that Ivy’s leaving would no doubt be a good thing for him personally. So why then, he wondered, did he feel not one iota of relief at the thought?
The following Friday, Ivy let herself into the bland, impersonal motel room and tossed her bags onto the foot of the bed. It had broken her heart to see Rose return home with empty arms. Thank God for the boys. Their delight in welcoming their parents back and their obvious reluctance in letting their aunt go had made both the homecoming and the leave-taking easier.
Ivy hadn’t known what she was getting into when she’d agreed to stay at the house and take care of those two little scamps. She had been shocked more than once over the past few days, but she smiled now to think of the time they had shared. Hunter and Scott had given her a taste of what she’d missed out on with her daughter, but all in all it had been a positive experience for her. She would no longer view every child as a breathing reminder of her own loss.
Rose had looked puffy and pale and on the knife-edge of h
er composure. Daniel hadn’t had two words to say to Ivy herself, but his attentiveness to his family had warmed her. After settling Rose in their bed, he had taken the boys off to play so that she and Ivy could have some time together. They had held each other and wept while talking softly about all that had happened.
It had hurt Ivy to have to tell Rose that she couldn’t attend the baby’s memorial service the next afternoon, but it was for the best. Their father would, should, be there, and even the small service that her sister and brother-in-law had planned was no place for the confrontation Olie would surely force. Rose understood that, of course, but naturally she wished it might be otherwise.
Dan hadn’t seemed pleased to find his wife weeping when he’d finally come back into the master bedroom to check on her, and his expression of gratitude to Ivy had sounded more like a dismissal than anything else, but Ivy couldn’t blame him. She agreed that the family should get back to normal as quickly as possible. Despite Rose’s weak protests, Ivy had gathered her things, kissed the boys and come back here to the Heavenly Arms to try to rest.
Suddenly chilled and anything but restful, she folded her arms and glanced around the room. With its plain beige walls, boxy, outdated furniture bolted in place and the dark, heavy drapes covering the only window, the place felt rather dreary. Lonely.
She wondered what Ryan might be doing, but quickly turned off that train of thought. She very much feared that she had begun to care for him more than was wise. Besides, they had already said their good-byes. She probably would not see him again.
A glance at the radio clock on the beside table told her that she had hours yet before she had to think of dinner. Determined to be optimistic, she told herself that it was not too late to call the radio station in Oklahoma City and check on that job. Best do it now before the weekend.
Going to her briefcase, she took out her electronic organizer and looked up the number. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed, picked up the telephone receiver and prepared to be disappointed. Twenty minutes later, she fell back on the bed and smiled up at the ceiling.
“Thank You, Lord God. Thank You.”
The job was hers. Time to begin her new life. She could head up to the city tomorrow. She could sleep late and take her time. The drive wouldn’t take more than two or three hours, and she didn’t have to report to the station before Monday morning. Maybe she would see Ryan again, be able to thank him for his kindness once more.
She tried to put thoughts of him away, aware of a tenderness toward him that she had no right to feel. After the life she had led, a kind, upright, responsible man like Ryan could never truly care for her. Could he? She thought of Matthew Barston and the great love that he bore Devony. But no, what Matthew and Devony had was truly special and extremely rare.
With great determination, Ivy turned her focus to the future. If God willed it, she would be on the air a week from the coming Monday.
But she would still be alone.
Wrong again, she told herself, smiling. Perhaps, Ivy mused, that had once been the case; she just hadn’t had sense enough to know it before Devony had come on the FireBrand Phillips and Ivy show. Hearing Devony tell of the peace that Christ’s love had brought her had changed Ivy forever. As Devony would say, no one who carried the Spirit of the living Christ in her heart could ever truly be alone.
Ryan rang the doorbell, remembering the last time he stood on this porch and the kiss that had rocked his world. Heat enveloped him, but it had nothing whatsoever to do with the hot, heavy glass casserole dish in his hands. When Daniel opened the door, Ryan felt both relief and disappointment.
“My sister-in-law, Cara, asked me to bring this by,” he said, proffering the casserole. “All of our condolences come with it, of course.”
Dan smiled wanly. “Thanks. Just bring it through here.”
They walked into the family room, Ryan carrying the casserole by folded dish towels at each end. The boys lolled on their bellies on the floor, playing a board game of some sort, while their mother reclined on the sofa. Hunter’s head popped up, and his face split into a wide smile.
“Mr. Jeffer!”
“Who’s winning?”
“Me!” he crowed.
“Uh-uh, me!” Scott argued, coming up onto his knees.
“So it’s a draw, huh?”
“What’s a draw?” Scott asked, wrinkling his nose.
“A tie, honey,” Rose explained, starting to sit up. “Hello, Ryan. It’s good to see you.”
“You stay just as you are,” he told her, even as Dan came forward to take the casserole. “Careful. It’s hot out of the oven.”
Rose ignored him, swinging her legs off the sofa, blankets and all. She patted the cushion next to her, saying, “Sit, please. I want a chance to thank you.”
“No need for that,” he insisted, sinking down on the very edge of the cushion so she wouldn’t have to look up at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“No, no,” she said. “How could you possibly have done more? It wasn’t just getting us to the hospital. The boys and Ivy have told us all you did for them. We are so very grateful.”
“I’m glad to have been of help,” he said. “I’m just so sorry for all you’ve been through.”
Her eyes filled. “Thank you. Please continue to pray for us.”
“Absolutely.” Hoping to change the subject, he glanced around, but the only topic that came to mind was Ivy. Finally, he came right out and asked. “Is Ivy around? I didn’t see the hybrid when I was at the motel earlier.” He hadn’t seen it out front, either, but Cara had said she had not checked out yet.
Rose shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. She’s too afraid of running into Dad.”
Ryan let that pass. The last thing Rose needed to be concerned about right now was her father’s behavior.
“We won’t have to cook for a week,” Daniel announced, coming back into the room, “which is good since my kitchen skills stop at being able to operate a can opener.”
“One of the benefits of living in a small town, I suppose,” Ryan said. “Folks aren’t too busy to stop to help.” With that, he rose to go, but Rose reached out and snagged his hand. He sank back down.
“I hate to ask this,” she said, “after all you’ve done, but could you do one more favor?”
“Rose,” Daniel said, his tone part censure but mostly concern.
“We’re having a small, private memorial service for the baby late tomorrow afternoon,” she rushed on, keeping her voice low. “If you could persuade Ivy to come, it would mean so much to me.”
“Honey, you know that’s not wise,” Daniel said, sitting beside her to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Ivy and your father can’t be trusted in the same place together, you know that.”
Ryan bit his tongue to keep from correcting Dan. As far as he had seen, the only one who couldn’t be trusted was Olie, but again, Rose didn’t need to worry about that.
“Please, Danny,” she whispered. “She’s my sister, and she’s grieving just like the rest of us. I can’t let her go without knowing she’ll be all right.”
He didn’t know where it came from, but suddenly Ryan heard himself proposing a solution, one that would address both Daniel’s very justified concern and Rose’s very understandable need. “I’ll speak to Ivy,” he said, “but it might be wiser if she came after the service or at least remained out of sight.”
“That could work,” Rose agreed. “Dan, you can ask Dad to go pick up the boys at your cousin’s after the service and meet us here at the house afterward. That would give Ivy and me some time alone together in the chapel.”
Dan nodded reluctantly. “But if something goes wrong and Olie refuses to cooperate—”
“He won’t,” Rose insisted. “I’ll speak to Pastor Latimer myself so if Ryan can just convince Ivy…”
Ryan suddenly wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but he could not deny that he was glad to have a reason to see Ivy again. Perhaps it was f
oolish. Nothing, after all, could come of it. Even if Ivy had not been about to start a new life in Oklahoma City, they could have no future together. Not only was he too busy, too dedicated to his work, he was not ready to trust his heart to anyone and doubted he ever would be. Nevertheless, he would see Ivy and try to convince her to attend the service, although it meant saying goodbye to her again.
“I’ll do my best,” he told Rose, because that’s what a Jefford always did. And because he wanted to see Ivy again, no matter the reason.
Chapter Nine
“So,” Ryan said to his grandfather, wrapping up his story, “I have to speak to Ivy when she comes in.”
Hap rocked in his great oak chair, contemplating the black pot-bellied stove in the corner of the front room, before commenting. “You don’t seem too keen on it.”
Sighing, Ryan sat forward on the black leather couch and pushed a hand through his hair. “I admire Ivy. She’s made some mistakes, sure, but she’s faced up to them, and she’s paid big-time along the way. I think it must be God’s will that she make peace with her father, for Olie’s sake as much as hers.”
“But?” Hap pressed.
“But.” Ryan spread his hands. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed, I guess. I mean, you know how demanding my job is, and then there’s this thing with Matt Barston.”
Hap grunted. They had discussed Matt’s situation in detail, and Hap had advised Ryan to speak to Matt and get his side of the story, but when Ryan had admitted that he remained uncomfortable with that idea, Hap had advised him to continue to pray about the situation.
“And you really think that befriending Ivy is too great a risk for you to take?” Hap asked. “Is that it?”
Ryan squirmed. “Not befriending her, no, but she’s at least peripherally involved in Matt’s situation, and it just doesn’t seem wise to get in deeper than I already am.” He winced, hoping that didn’t sound as self-righteous as he feared it did.
