Their Small-Town Love

by Arlene James

  “Ah,” Hap said. “I think I’m finally getting it. Your problem is that you already have feelings for the girl.”

  “I don’t have feelings for her!” Ryan retorted, more forcefully than he’d intended. “Not like you mean. I—I hardly know her now. She’s…” Beautiful. Wounded. Heartbreakingly brave. He gulped and slumped forward. “Besides, what difference does it make? She’ll soon be gone again.”

  “So all you’re worried about is a bit of gossip?” Hap mused.

  “Well, of course, I’m worried about gossip,” Ryan admitted. “Scandal is never a good thing for someone in my position. Just look at Matt.”

  “Hmm,” Hap said, just that.

  Ryan rushed on. “I mean, I feel sorry for Matt, and I want to help him.”

  Hap nodded. “I’d expect no less of you.”

  Ryan gulped. “As for Ivy and the Halseys, the whole thing is heartbreaking, and I’m obviously in the middle for a reason, so I’ll do whatever is needed, whatever God wills. I just can’t help thinking that I ought to be careful, all things considered.”

  Hap said nothing for several moments, but Ryan could sense that his grandfather did not entirely agree with his assessment of the situation. It was then Ryan realized that he had come seeking Hap’s approval for his reticence in getting involved with both situations. He wanted Hap to tell him that he was right to keep his distance from both Ivy and Matt. What, Ryan wondered, did that say about him? Was Hap right that his budding feelings for Ivy scared him? And what about Matt? What was he supposed to do there? Confused, Ryan scrubbed his hands over his face.

  “Well, you won’t have to wait much longer to talk to Ivy,” Hap informed him. “She told Cara earlier that she was running up to Waurika for something to eat. Ought to be back soon.”

  “She told Cara this when?”

  “When Cara and Holt invited her to join them for catfish at the Watermelon Patch.”

  Ryan grimaced. Every other Friday Holt took Hap out to dinner while Ryan or Cara watched the motel desk. This was not Hap’s usual Friday out, which might explain why Cara and Holt had invited Ivy to join them—especially as they’d invited Ryan, to join them, too. He’d begged off because he had to finalize next year’s football schedule, so Cara had asked him instead to come by the motel when he’d finished, get the casserole out of the oven and deliver it to the Halseys. Obviously, Cara and Holt were doing everything they could to throw him together with Ivy. What was it about married people that made them try to pair up everyone else?

  He tried to feel outraged but only felt confused and almost regretful, which made no sense because, any feelings aside, Ivy was about to leave again for good. Surely anyone who looked at this situation clearly would see that was for the best. Getting roped into an unwise romance would be foolish. Matt’s situation proved that point. Right?

  Just then, Ivy’s boxy little hybrid turned off the highway and into the motel lot. Ryan welcomed the sight, visible through the large picture window in the outside wall, with equal amounts of relief and dread. With a quick prayer for guidance, he thanked his grandfather and hurried out to fulfill his promise to Rose.

  Plucking the room key from the outside pocket of her fashionably oversized handbag, Ivy reached toward the lock in the door, only to turn away when Ryan called her name. She watched him jog toward her in the muted light cast across the motel lot from fixtures atop a pair of tall poles. Dressed in jeans, athletic shoes and a light orange polo shirt beneath a jean jacket, he looked fit and fine, a big, solid, handsome man, supremely comfortable in his own skin, and she felt an unwelcome yearning. Why hadn’t she wound up with a man like this instead of Brand Phillips? Shaking her head, she admitted to herself that she had not even known that men like Ryan existed.

  He drew up, smiling at her. “How was your dinner?”

  She shrugged. “A sandwich is a sandwich.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I had bologna and crackers at my desk myself.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, Ryan lifted a hand to the back of his neck, his face half in shadow. “I was over at Rose and Dan’s earlier.”

  Sobering instantly, Ivy bowed her head. “How is she?”

  “Emotional. Worried.”

  “Worried about what?”

  “You. Basically, Rose wants you to come to the memorial service. She needs you, and she’s concerned that you aren’t properly dealing with your grief. I suspect that she fears that her loss has brought up old feelings having to do with the adoption.”

  Ivy blinked. She had never discussed her daughter with Rose. “Did she say that?”

  “No, of course not. I assume that she doesn’t know you’ve told me about Chelsea.”

  Ivy closed her eyes. That was the first time she had ever heard another person say her daughter’s name, and just that was enough to make her eyes brim with tears.

  “I think she’s right,” Ryan went on gently. “Obviously you need some sort of closure.”

  “There is no closure for this, Ryan.”

  “Perhaps not for Chelsea,” he said, “but saying good-bye to Rose’s child could help. Without that, Ivy, it seems to me you’re carrying a double load of grief.”

  She shook her head. “Rose is the one who needs closure.”

  “True enough, and she needs you to be there with her when she says good-bye to her child,” he argued.

  Ivy sighed. She wanted that, too, but she could not risk it. She looked down at the keys in her hand and said, “I can’t. My father will be at the service. He should be at the service. But you know what he thinks of me. He’ll make a scene. I know he will. He won’t be able to help himself.”

  “We thought of that,” Ryan told her, explaining the plan. “Afterward, you and Rose can have some private time in the chapel together. She’ll feel better about everything then, and so will you, I suspect.”

  Ivy sucked in a deep breath and lifted her head. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Then it’s settled,” he concluded, smiling. “I’ll pick you up here about four.”

  She knew it was not wise for her to keep spending time with him. Nothing good could possibly come of it, especially considering that she was half in love with him already. Who wouldn’t be? His kindness and sweetness alone would captivate most women. Add to that his innate goodness, compassion, strong sense of responsibility and masculine good looks, and she could not imagine what woman could resist him. Given her past, however, she was undoubtedly the last one whom he would, or ought to, consider. Yes, keeping her distance from here on out definitely made sense.

  “You’ve done enough,” she told him, “more than enough. I can get myself to the chapel.”

  “No doubt you can,” he said, looking down so that his face was hidden in the inky shadow, “but I promised Rose.”

  Ivy bit her lip. She couldn’t argue with that. Still, he had already done so much. “We seem to have dragged you into our problems, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “No, no. If I’ve been of some help,” Ryan said. “I thank God.”

  “That makes two of us,” she whispered. Stepping forward, she meant to lift up and kiss his cheek, but she instantly thought better of that. Remembering the unexpected charge that seemed to course between them the last time she had been so foolish, she stepped back nervously.

  “Have a good evening,” he said in an oddly thick voice before turning away.

  She went inside, telling herself, one more time. She would see him one more time and then, very likely, never again, which would no doubt be the best thing, even if it gave her one more reason to grieve.

  The small, closet-sized antechamber to the modest sanctuary inside the Magnolia Christian Church provided privacy and little else, with only a single folding chair, a pair of garment hooks on opposite walls and two mirrored doors, one in each end of the narrow room. Davis Latimer had escorted Ryan and Ivy there well before the service began, apologizing for the inconvenience. Ivy quite liked the young pastor, though she fo
und his pale blue eyes somewhat disconcerting, as if he could see straight to the heart of a person. At Ryan’s insistence, Ivy occupied the chair while he leaned against the wall, arms folded. In silence, they listened to the short, solemn ceremony.

  For several minutes in the beginning, someone played soft piano music with surprising skill. Following this, the pastor read a passage of Scripture before an ethereal female voice sang a poignant song about joy in the presence of God. It was the same voice that had moved Ivy so at the Easter sunrise service. Ivy could hear sniffs and muffled sobs as the pastor briefly spoke about the hope and unrealized desire of the Halsey family to welcome a new member into its heart. With tears dripping from her chin, Ivy heard the name of her little niece for the first time, Angela Faith.

  “An appropriate name for a precious child who will never know sin,” the pastor said, “chosen by loving parents who dwell in the faith that the arms of the Savior will forever hold her close.”

  Ryan’s strong hands gently gripped Ivy’s shoulders. She closed her eyes, drawing strength from his comforting presence.

  Pastor Latimer spoke for a few moments more about how God never promised us a pain-free existence or a life without disappointment. Rather, said the pastor, God pledged always to be with us, even when we railed against the unfairness and difficulties of this world, and to soothe our hurts in the hereafter.

  The pastor closed the brief ceremony with prayer. Another instrumental piece followed. At length the music ended, and shuffling feet and murmurs could be heard. Finally, the door opened, and Ryan helped Ivy to her feet.

  “Ms. Villard,” Davis Latimer said. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to your sister. Ryan, perhaps you’d best come, too. Rose is understandably distraught.”

  Ivy sent a despairing glance at Ryan, who clasped her hand with his. Together they followed Pastor Latimer from the tiny room and out into a small sanctuary fitted with dark gold carpet and pale oak pews set against bright white walls. They walked across the raised platform at the front of the church, passing the small grand piano where a thin blonde woman in silver, wire-rimmed glasses, whom Ivy recognized as Becca Inman, sat with folded hands. Before the simple oak altar at the front of the platform stood a bier draped in pink satin and holding a tiny white coffin bedecked with a single spray of pink rosebuds. Beyond this sat Rose in the front pew. As planned, Daniel had walked Olie out into the parking lot with instructions to pick up the boys from their cousin’s house and take them home.

  Rose reached up her arms as Ivy drew near, and they came together in a tearful embrace. Ryan slid into the pew behind them. Ivy barely noticed as the pastor slipped away.

  “My beautiful little girl,” Rose whispered, sobbing.

  “I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “Did you hear what we named her?”

  “Angela Faith. Lovely, and so appropriate.”

  Rose drew back a little then, her brown eyes strangely calm in her ravaged face. “I never knew,” she said, “the name of your little girl.”

  Ivy felt her throat close. “Ch-Chelsea.”

  “Tell me about her,” Rose insisted, laying her head upon Ivy’s shoulder. “I was afraid to ask you before, but I’ve always wanted to know.”

  Ivy gasped a shuddering breath, but after a moment she began to speak, telling Rose, with tears and sniffles, everything she could about the niece whom Rose had never known. In the end, they were both somewhat calmer.

  “So she’s well and happy and loved,” Rose concluded at last. “That must comfort you.”

  “It’s all that’s kept me sane,” Ivy admitted.

  Rose sat up and turned slightly to look her sister in the face. “We may not have our children with us, but my little one will never know a moment’s pain, and yours will grow up knowing that she is wanted and loved.”

  Ivy managed to smile. “That’s true. That’s so true.”

  “I’m so glad you were here when this happened,” Rose said, hugging her. “I thank God that I didn’t have to go through this without you, and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

  Ivy framed her sister’s beloved face with her hands. “No, no, that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t even know where to find me.”

  “All the same, I wish I’d been there.” Rose clasped Ivy’s wrists. “If anything good has come of this, it’s that I have my sister back.”

  “Rose.”

  “You have to promise me that we’ll stay in touch,” Rose said lowering both of their hands to her lap.

  “Of course.”

  Rose shook Ivy’s hands with hers. “And now that you’re going to be living closer, we’ll see more of you. Promise that you’ll come next month for Hunter’s birthday.”

  Ivy thought of her father and instinctively drew back. “Oh, honey, I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do,” Rose insisted. “It’s the twenty-sixth, and that’s a Saturday this year, a perfect time for celebration. Besides, I think we need a reason to celebrate, something to look forward to.”

  “Rose, you know how Dad feels.”

  “He’ll just have to get over it,” Rose decreed, “because I’m not giving up on this. Now say you’ll come.”

  “We’ll see,” Ivy hedged. “I have to figure out how this new job is going to go before I make any promises.” Rose frowned, but then, to Ivy’s relief, she nodded.

  “But don’t think I’m going to forget about it,” she warned.

  Ivy smiled and laid her head against her sister’s. “It’s good to be wanted,” she said. “I can’t tell you how good it is to be wanted by someone.”

  “Oh, Ivy!” Rose exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her sister. “I’m so glad you came home.”

  Ivy closed her eyes, basking in the joy of her sister’s love, but in her mind’s eye she saw the anger and derision on their father’s face. He was not happy that she had returned. Behind her, she heard Ryan shift on the pew, and she wondered what he thought about her coming home. He probably wished she had stayed away, too, and who could blame him? To her father she was an unwanted reminder of past shame, and to Ryan she had been nothing but trouble. Unfortunately, she did not see either circumstance changing. She could do nothing to remove the shame of her past, which meant that associating with her could do nothing good for Ryan. In truth, raising her sister’s hopes was all she had succeeded in doing with her return.

  Perhaps, she told herself, staying away might have been kinder to everyone.

  In his thirty-four years, Ryan had attended more than his fair share of funerals, but nothing, not the passing of his grandpa Mike or the stunning dual loss of his parents, had moved him quite like the grief of Ivy and Rose. He had wanted to hold Ivy and protect her from her tears, which told him that he was much more deeply involved with her than he’d even realized. When Rose had asked Ivy to attend Hunter’s birthday party next month, Ryan had waited with bated breath, both hoping and fearing that Ivy would agree. Instead, she had danced around the promise her sister asked of her, and it was that unmade promise that troubled him as he escorted Ivy from the church and drove her back to the motel.

  “Once again, Ryan,” she told him as they sat in his car in front of her room, “I am deeply indebted to you.”

  He shook his head. “I’m just sorry this all happened, the baby, your father, everything.”

  “Not everything,” she said, smiling gently. “I’ve gotten to know you again.”

  Ryan gulped mentally. He knew that she expected him to say something to that. He even thought about saying that they were friends, brother and sister in Christ, but his tongue felt welded to the roof of his mouth. After a moment, she bowed her head and went on.

  “Most importantly, I’ve reconnected with my sister and met my nephews. I have family again, Ryan. You cannot know what that means to me.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be back in April for Hunter’s birthday?” he managed to ask, desperate to know one way or another.

 
; She sucked in a deep breath, as if she had to steel herself just to think about it. Part of him hoped she would say yes; part of him hoped not. Both told him that he would be wise to avoid her if she did return to town, that his feelings for Ivy were too tender, too…dangerous. At last, she shook her head.

  “I just don’t know.”

  The relief he had hoped for eluded him; a disappointment that he did not want to acknowledge rushed in instead. He fought it, telling himself that he had done his Christian duty by Ivy and her family, and now the time had come to permanently part ways with her. But she was so achingly beautiful and brave. Could it be possible that he really would not see her again?

  She opened the door and got out.

  “Take care of yourself,” she said.

  “You, too.”

  At the last moment, before the door closed, she fluttered a little wave at him, and something about that seemed so sad, so bereft, that it haunted him. Ryan sat for a long time after she’d gone into her room, dissatisfied with their parting but sure that it was for the best. Wasn’t it?

  Finally, he started the car and drove home without stopping in at his grandfather’s apartment. He did not want to talk to Hap just now or anyone else, for that matter. Yet, when he arrived back at his place, he walked from room to room, on edge and uncertain why.

  The large, airy chambers, arched doorways and multi-paned windows usually pleased him. Something about the solidity of the house itself, the heavy plaster moldings, the luster of the red oak floors, the warm, cozy elegance of the fireplaces and the enduring air of it all had always comforted him. But not today. For the first time his lovely old house felt cold and empty and bare. He wandered around the sparsely furnished rooms, noticing a problem here, a lacking there. For the first time, the house felt almost right, not quite complete. Something seemed missing, but he could not for the life of him imagine what.

  He tried to ignore the feeling, sure that he simply wasn’t used to having so much free time. Usually he would be designing teaching plans or chaperoning some student gathering or grading papers or…The list sometimes seemed endless, but now suddenly it also seemed trivial.