Their Small-Town Love

by Arlene James

  “Sweetie, we’d better go. I think I need to run over my notes again before I sleep.”

  “Dev’s been invited to speak at one of the local churches tomorrow,” Matt announced proudly. “We’re hoping they’ll pledge support for the counseling ministry.”

  “I’ll be praying for you,” Ivy told her, kissing her friend’s pale cheek.

  “Ditto. Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Devony gushed, hugging Ivy.

  Matt started digging out his wallet, but Ryan stopped him. “No way. Get on out of here. Just see you stay in touch.”

  “Thanks, man. Will do,” Matt agreed, shaking Ryan’s hand and clapping his shoulder.

  The Barstons took their leave with more hugs for Ivy, while Ryan signaled the waiter. A short while later, they were on the road back to Eden.

  “That was a wonderful surprise, Ryan. Thank you so much.”

  “Entirely my pleasure,” he replied, confessing, “and not nearly penance enough for having listened to gossip and misjudged Devony.”

  Ivy sent him a tired smile. “She understands. And forgives. It’s amazing really. It’s as if God has given her grace in full measure for all that she’s suffered and done and she just extends that out to everyone she comes in contact with.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s such a role model for me in so many ways.”

  “For all of us,” Ryan said.

  Ivy nodded and leaned her head against the window. He could tell that she thought herself more in need of that role model than him, but she was wrong about that. He’d always believed, without quite realizing it, that he had suffered the greatest challenge to faith that anyone ever could when both of his parents had died, but he knew now he’d overrated his own trials. The Bible said that God did not test His children beyond what they could endure, which made Ryan wonder if he could have withstood what Devony or even Ivy had experienced. That was a humbling thought.

  They made the remainder of the drive in near silence, each caught up with their own musings. When they pulled into the motel lot, Ryan felt an instant of letdown. He didn’t want the evening to end. He knew then that he didn’t want Ivy to go back to Oklahoma City. He realized how much he would miss her. He would make sure he could see her again tomorrow, before she left.

  He parked the car in front of her room, then sprinted around to get her door for her. Apparently, her thoughts were not so far removed from his because the moment Ivy stood on the ground, she asked if he would walk her to church tomorrow.

  “You must be reading my mind.”

  She ducked her head, fishing her key from the front pocket of that voluminous bag of hers. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “You can take that as an, I would be delighted.” He lightly grasped her elbow and walked her the few steps to the room. She put her key into the lock and turned it.

  “See you tomorrow, then.” Opening the door, she stepped up those four inches or so into the room, then turned. “Good night, Ryan.”

  “Good night, Ivy.”

  She started to close the door, but somehow his hand came out and blocked it. “Wait.”

  She pushed the door wide again, backing up in order to do so. He stepped up into the room, decided that was foolhardy and stepped down again, bringing her with him, his hands on her upper arms.

  “Let’s try that again,” he said, sliding his arms around her and bringing her against him so that her head fell back.

  He saw the flare of delight in her eyes just before he kissed her, kissed her this time for all he was worth. He poured everything he had into it, everything he’d been feeling these past weeks: the thrill of seeing her again, the disappointment for what her life had been, the pity and the admiration, the confusion and protectiveness, affection, frustration, admiration, gratitude, fear and, finally, hope.

  Kissing Ivy woke something dormant in him, evoked something new and rocked his tidy little world on its wobbly axis. It told him absolutely everything he needed to know, things he hadn’t even suspected, and demonstrated quite clearly that his own road was destined to be much rockier than he’d ever dreamed.

  For one instant of blind panic, he wished he could go back. Then he found himself staring down into Ivy’s wide, stunned eyes, and he knew that going back would never again be an option. Against every instinct he possessed, he made himself release her and walk calmly back to his car.

  “Good night, Ivy,” he called.

  “G-good night.”

  The quiver in her voice and the rigidity of her stance told him that she had not quite found her equilibrium yet. Clearly, that kiss had knocked her back as hard as it had him. Pleased, he considered the ramifications of what he’d just done.

  What the gossips might think no longer truly mattered, not insofar as he and his career were concerned. For the first time, Ryan had found something that he wanted more than he wanted the job at Eden Memorial High School. In his mind, that kiss was a declaration of the fact that he wanted Ivy to be a part of his life. An important part. Perhaps, when the time was right, even a permanent part. He wanted to know that she would always welcome him with a smile on her lips and the glow of delight in her eyes. He wanted to see her at ease, content, happy, and he no longer feared what that might mean. He understood now that he had been afraid to trust Ivy, or any woman, with his heart, which really meant that he hadn’t trusted God to help him overcome his fears. Wasn’t that exactly what his mother had done?

  He thought of Devony’s Web site, Reclaiming Purity, and recalled that old parable of the sheep, how the shepherd had rejoiced more over the return of the one lost lamb than the ninety-nine safe in the barn. Grover had once preached a sermon on that subject, describing how, when a rebellious lamb refused to stay with the flock, the shepherd would break the leg of that lamb and carry it about across his shoulders until the lamb healed, all the while learning to depend totally on its caretaker. Never again would that lamb stray from its master’s side.

  Ryan had suffered the loss of his parents, and God had carried him until he had learned to depend upon his Savior. Likewise, Ivy had suffered the brokenness of giving up her child and incurring the wrath and contempt of her father, and even now the Good Shepherd carried her across His shoulders. Whatever happened, they were both safe in the care of their Master. That did not mean, of course, that Ryan would be granted the desires of his heart, but he could hope, and he could take a stand in that hope, not just as his own man, but as God’s man.

  Kneeling beside the bed in her room at Heavenly Arms Motel, Ivy covered her face with her hands and prayed.

  Oh, Lord God, don’t let my foolish heart lead me astray again.

  She wanted to believe that Ryan’s feelings for her went beyond pity and his natural inclination to set every situation to rights, but a man in his position would have to be an idiot to get romantically involved with her. Wouldn’t he? Just look at what had happened to Matt Barston and Devony, who was twice the Christian Ivy could ever hope to be. Ivy’s own father would make Ryan’s life miserable if he thought anything more than friendship existed between them.

  Suddenly she wished that she had not allowed Ryan to accompany her to her sister’s today. Olie had held his tongue at Rose’s request this afternoon, but Ivy knew that she could not count on that continuing. She didn’t want Ryan to wind up in the line of fire.

  With any other man she would have shrugged off their few kisses—especially tonight’s as simple, if potent, passes, a prelude to an attempt at seduction, but Ryan didn’t fit that mold. A kiss for Ryan meant more than that. Surely, though, it did not mean that he was truly considering a serious relationship with her. Didn’t he see how impossible that was? Or had he been fooled by Olie’s silence this afternoon? Had he not felt the ice-cold enmity that had chilled Ivy to her marrow?

  For his sake, she wondered if she ought not to just leave now and never return. It would be so easy to just disappear again. Unless she missed her guess, she would be moving on soon to another radio market
anyway, because it did not appear that the current management would ever be pleased with her show.

  Somehow, though, she couldn’t make herself leave without a word. Thoughts of Rose and the boys and even her father intruded. She had come here to make amends. Running away felt cowardly and self-indulgent, the way she’d behaved way back before her daughter had been born.

  The decision to give up her child to a better situation and better parents had been the crucible in which that old, immature Ivy had been burned away. The one who had been left behind had been even more miserable than before, but she’d no longer looked at the world through a hazy film of selfishness. All that Ivy had been able to see had been ugliness, especially her own, until Devony had showed her a new vision, a better vision, a godly vision. What Devony had shown her was the Ivy she could be if she would only let God have His way in her life.

  The new Ivy would not run away. She would face head-on whatever God sent into her path, trusting that He would work it to her good, however painful that process might prove. The least she could do was give Him a chance to work.

  With that decided, Ivy slept, rising in the morning in time to finish dressing only moments before Ryan tapped on her door. She opened it to find him standing there with two disposable cups of coffee in hand, his coat pockets bulging suspiciously.

  “You are a darling man.”

  “I seem to recall that you take it black,” he said, smiling. “If not, we can raid Granddad’s kitchen for cream and sugar, but I warn you, the whole family’s in there.”

  “Black is perfect. Give me one minute.”

  Quickly, she stuffed her Bible into her handbag and slung the twin straps over her shoulder, careful not to snag the loose weave of the bright orange jacket she wore over a closely fitted tan knit sheath. She stepped down next to Ryan seconds later and eagerly took one of the cups into her hands, inhaling its delicious aroma. He immediately produced a napkin-wrapped, toasted English muffin, split and spread with cream cheese.

  “Compliments of my sister-in-law, who has us all eating healthier these days. I have another one in the other pocket, by the way.”

  Chuckling, Ivy took half of the muffin and began to munch, sipping the fragrant coffee as they strolled. “My thanks to you and your sister-in-law.”

  “She’s determined to get your feet under the family dinner table, you know,” Ryan commented just before he bit off a huge hunk of his muffin.

  Ivy said nothing. What could she say to that, after all? That she’d love to sit down to dinner with his family? That she didn’t dare? That she was waiting to see what God was doing in this situation? Every option seemed too presumptive.

  Ryan swallowed his half of the muffin and produced the second. While he demolished that, he kept up a running commentary on the weather. The clear, fine days were pleasant and good for the construction of Charlotte and Ty’s massive house, he decided, but they were due for rain. Otherwise, the crops and grazing would suffer.

  “We haven’t had any precipitation to speak of since the ice storm,” he mused, “and that was over two months ago.”

  Ivy finished her half of the first muffin and accepted another from the second as they walked up Mesquite Street toward the church, but midway through that last bite, she’d had her fill of both the muffin and the small talk. She wanted this kiss business resolved, so she could stop obsessing about it.

  “Want the rest of this?” she asked, offering the nibbled muffin half.

  His big hand swooped down. “Sure.”

  “Want to tell me why you kissed me so thoroughly last night?”

  Ryan stopped dead in his tracks, the muffin clamped between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked. He chewed briefly, giving her time to turn to face him, and gulped before saying, “Because I wanted to.”

  “Oh?” She sounded skeptical because she was. Ryan did not strike her as the kind of man who simply followed his desires without careful consideration.

  “Mmm.” He ate the rest of the muffin, watching her the whole time, while she fought back a number of rioting emotions.

  “And do you always do what you want to?” she challenged, lifting her chin.

  He lowered his eyelids until only slits of mottled green and gold remained. “If I did, I’d kiss you again right now.”

  Joy and expectation exploded inside her, followed quickly by sheer terror, because this could not possibly work out. Could it?

  Ryan tossed away his coffee, saying he’d pick up the cup on their way back home, and took her by the elbow, his big, warm hand turning her toward the church. “Now let me ask you something. Why did you let me kiss you?”

  She first tried to find a way to ignore the question, then studied several possible answers that might let her off the hook. Finally, however, she reluctantly gave him the truth, “Because I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Good,” he said, just that and nothing else, which proved to be a wise thing because she couldn’t have concentrated on an actual conversation just then to save her life. It was as if she existed within a whirling maelstrom of hope and fear.

  She barely heard the greetings of those who had arrived ahead of them, dimly registered the arrival of his family, failed to follow the music, only faintly regarded the sermon and could never remember afterward how she’d gotten rid of her coffee cup. Knowing she was in over her head with Ryan, she kept closing her eyes to pray, but instead found herself repeatedly reliving that kiss. She’d managed to hold those memories at bay, until she’d so foolishly broached the subject herself, and now she could no longer relegate them to the category of wishful thinking.

  That kiss had happened. It was real, as real as the man at her side. It had curled her toes and fogged her brain and scared the living daylights out of her, and she had no idea what she should be doing about any of it. Her head-on approach had brought only one confusing emotion after another.

  The service ended, and Ivy allowed herself to be herded into the crowded aisle along with everyone else, Ryan’s strong hand resting in the small of her back. They worked their way to the door in the rear of the stark sanctuary, where the pastor engaged individual members of the congregation. The press of bodies thinned around Grover as those ahead stepped out into the sunlight. Ivy smiled at the rotund preacher, murmured a greeting and slipped by as Ryan stopped to shake hands and exchange words.

  Out on the narrow stoop, she put her back to the open door, trying to stay out of the way. On the other side of that door, on the very edge of the stoop, two women were talking, and every word poured straight into Ivy’s ears. It was as if she’d just awakened from a stupor.

  “I cannot believe she has the guts to show up at church,” one voice said.

  “The gall, more like,” the other muttered.

  “I suppose if you don’t believe in God, you have no fear of entering His house.”

  “Now, I haven’t heard that she doesn’t believe in God.”

  “How could she and have relations with all those men?”

  “Relations, that’s a nice way of putting it.”

  “They say she discusses it all on the radio, the acts themselves. Did you ever think that someone from our little Eden would do such a thing?”

  “You must not remember her mama…”

  Ivy reeled away, gasping for breath and sick to her stomach. They were talking about her! That’s what was being said about her? Lies! And no telling who had heard them! What if Ryan had heard? What if Rose—

  Suddenly, Ivy remembered the way Daniel and his mother had all but sneered at her at the birthday party the day before. His mother’s lip had curled, and twice she’d appeared to deliberately ignore Ivy’s greeting. Daniel, too, had seemed distant and cold, but Ivy had chalked that up to his and Rose’s continued grief. Rose reached out in her sorrow, but she’d worriedly mentioned to Ivy that Daniel held his inside.

  Chilled, Ivy recalled something else, something Devony had said when they’d gone to the ladies’ room together.

  “We wer
e so glad Ryan called, and when he said he wanted to get you out of Eden, we naturally suggested Duncan because we had to be here anyway.”

  He wanted to get you out of Eden. The words had seemed unimportant at the time, completely unexceptional, but now Ivy thought about the way he had shifted in his seat when she’d assumed they would be dining at the Watermelon Patch. Clearly he hadn’t wanted to be seen with her where the whole town routinely gathered.

  No. That wasn’t right. He’d gladly escorted her here to church today, after all.

  Because he’d believed that gossip would have no hold here.

  Which meant that he had avoided the local catfish restaurant for her sake, not his.

  The very idea brought tears to her eyes. He’d tried to protect her. But who, she asked herself, would protect Ryan? Didn’t he understand that he could not afford to be seen with her, now more than ever?

  “Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet.”

  Ivy gaped at him, thinking only that she had to get away from him for his sake. She stumbled, literally, down the shallow steps to the paved walk below and hurried away, crossing the lawn when clusters of people stood in her way. Without thinking, she dashed across the street. Tires screeched, but she ignored them. She ignored everything, everything but the sound of Ryan’s voice.

  “Ivy! Ivy, wait!”

  She closed her eyes against it, but that voice tugged at her, trapped her. The hand that reached out, catching her arm and spinning her around had no more impact than the sound of his spoken words.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she gasped, realizing only then how near she was to losing her breakfast.

  “Stop and catch your breath,” he ordered, once more the authority figure. “Get your head down. Swallow as much air as you can.”