by Kimber Davis
"You didn't think about trying to change things? You didn't think that maybe, just maybe, you could do things differently than your father did?"
He shook his head, his gaze focused on the bottle in his hand. "I was weak. I still am."
"Not really," Ivy said. "If you still were, you wouldn't have sent for me. You have to know that I hate you."
This time, a large tear rolled down his cheek and he nodded. "I'm sorry. It doesn't make up for the years I skirted my responsibilities, but I hope you believe it."
"I'll try." She knew she should just nod and say yes, offer comfort to a dying man, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do that. Spending her formative years without a father still weighed on her. Remembering the times she'd hear her mother crying into her pillow at night still hurt her.
"I hear you have things you want me to look at. Family items."
"Yes." His breath was more labored now. "In the attic. You go down the hall, the stairs at behind the last door on the left. I would like you to go through them, take anything you like."
She managed a smile. "I have to tell you that I feel a little weird about going through stuff. Almost like I don't have a right."
"You're still my daughter," he said. "Even if you hardly know me."
"You couldn't prove it by me." The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to pull them back in. She may hate the man, but she had to remember what he was going through. She had to remember he was about to leave this Earth, and the last thing he needed was her being rude to him.
When he laughed, she stared at him. "What?"
"You may not know me, but you have my mouth." He coughed, and then took a drink of water. "Hiding behind sarcasm, saying whatever pops into your mind. That's me, and that's you, I can tell."
"So, my being a smart ass to you makes you ass?"
"Yes. I was afraid you'd tiptoe around me, that you'd sit there and we'd never get to know each other. I don't want that. Promise me you'll speak your mind, no matter what."
"Oh, that's a promise," Ivy said. "The people around you may not like it, though."
"To hell with them," Hamish said. "What I want, is for you to be yourself around me. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Good."
His breathing was labored, and Ivy knew he needed to rest. "I'll go upstairs, then, and leave you to rest. Tonight, do you think you can tell me about how you met my mother."
A look of pain crossed his face. "She never told you?"
"She's told me nothing. Absolutely nothing. Like I said, all I've seen is an old photograph."
Sorrow replaced the pain. "That's my fault. I thought she would at least tell you a few things. Come back tonight. I'll tell ... you how I met her ... and how we fell ... in love."
Ivy stood. She could tell he wanted to touch her. He at least wanted her to pat his hand, she could see that in the way he was looking at her. But she wasn't ready for that.
"I'll go upstairs, then, and you go to sleep."
He nodded, his eyes closing. "I'll have a tale for you tonight. I'll love telling it as much as you'll love hearing it."
* * *
Ivy stared at the mountain of boxes in the attic. She wasn't sure where to start, and truthfully, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Her short talk with her father had been an eye opener. She loved the fact that he wanted her to be herself around him. She would show him bits and pieces, but showing him the exact amount of anger she felt wouldn't be a good thing. She'd thought of nothing else as she'd walked down the hall, opened the door and climbed the old, rounded staircase.
Of course, now that she knew her mother had been sending him information about her, she felt anger toward her, too. It wasn't fair that she'd kept that from her. It wasn't fair that she'd been left out of the loop.
She went to the first box and opened it. A cloud of dust rose up, and Ivy waved her hand in front of her face. She wondered how many mice lived up here, chewing on the paper and clothing packed away in these boxes. She hated mice. If she saw one, she'd squash it the first chance she got. She needed to remember to ask Constance for a few traps, to set them to catch the little varmints so she didn't have to worry about it.
She carefully took out a few things from the box. Old photo albums, full of pictures of people she had no clue about. Would her father know who they were? From the looks of it, the photos dated back to the thirties. That would have been before he was born. Could these be her grandparents? And if they were, were they still alive?
Yet one more thing she needed to ask about. She sat the album aside and picked up a small box inlaid with green stones. It was very pretty, and when she opened it up, she found a necklace of the same gems nestled inside. She held it up, marveling at the fact that the stones seemed so clean. Of course it had been resting inside the box, which was resting inside another box.
"Beautiful. I wonder who this belonged to." She put the necklace back in the box and set it on top of the photo album. She made her way through the rest of the box, found a few books, some clothing had seen better days and another photo album that looked as if it had been visited by mice.
She was partway through the second box when Stuart's voice sounded from the staircase.
"I'm coming up. Didn't want to frighten you."
"Too late." His boots made noise on the stairs, which creaked under his weight.
"I think those stairs are about to give," she said when he made it to the top.
"You might be right. Perhaps I should work on shoring them up tomorrow. Are you having fun?"
"I wouldn't go straight to fun," she replied. "But I've found quite a lot of things that are interesting. Photographs of people I don't know. Clothing that needs to be thrown out, since it's already been eaten by moths and mice. And a few pieces of jewelry that I'd like to keep."
"Himself will be glad to hear that," Stuart replied. "I heard you and he had a short talk this afternoon."
"We did. I slept very late, so I think he was awake, waiting for me, while I was sleeping. Sorta makes me feel bad."
She took the green necklace out of its box and showed it to Stuart. "It's old, you can tell by the clasp."
He took it and nodded. "I say from Victorian times, maybe a little older. Your da might know who owned it."
She put it back in the box, and then cleared her throat. "Speaking of, um, him. He told me today that he wants me to be myself around him. I thought you should know that."
"So, he wants you to be a bitch?"
"Thanks a lot," She put the box down on the photo album, maybe a little harder than she should have.
"I'm sorry, lass, but you were rather bitchy last night."
"Maybe I was, but you know what? This isn't easy on me, no matter what you're thinking."
He gave her a sheepish look, then sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"So am I. Listen, there's a big part of you that's right, you know. I was a bitch last night, and I'm afraid that if I'm myself around my father, given how I feel about him, I'll be a bitch to him, too. I don't really want that to happen. I want to be myself, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to control my emotions. I won't be able to keep myself in line."
"What are you saying, lass?" He looked at her intently, making her feel as if he could see into her soul.
"That I want you to sit with me while I talk to him tonight. I want you to poke me, or interrupt me if you think I'm going overboard. I've thought about this a lot, and it's the only way that I think I can be myself, but not hurt him. I don't want to hurt him."
His smile was genuine. "I appreciate that. And, I'll do you one better. Do you remember what I said I'd do to you, if you didn't behave?"
"Oh yes, and you can take that idea and shove it."
"Well, I won't do that, but I can guarantee you, that if you don't behave, and you don't follow my lead when I tell you that you've gone overboard, then after we leave your father's room tonight, we'll go to mine, and you'll be soundly spanked. That w
ill keep you in line the next time, I guarantee it."
Chapter Three
"That'll keep you in line, I guarantee it." Ivy muttered the words under her breath, saying them just low enough so that Stuart couldn't hear her, or so she thought.
"You're the one who asked for help." He turned a grin on her. They stood in front of her father's door, waiting for Beth to tell them it was all right for them to come in.
"I asked for a poke, or a nudge, not for a spanking."
"Well, I don't think you're little nudge will keep you in line, so I'm doing things my way. Deal with it."
"Screw you. You have no authority over me, so you can just blow it out your as..."
"Oh lovely. Did they teach you that in school, or is it something you picked up later in life?"
"Well, from what my father tells me, it comes from him. He says he's rather outspoken."
"Being outspoken is one thing, spewing garbage is another."
"Would you prefer I used the f word? Or do you use that here? Perhaps you have another cuss word you'd like me to use, like shi..."
He wheeled on her. "Listen, I meant what I said, watch your tongue, or be prepared to meet my lap, and the business side of my hand on your bare ass."
Ivy took a step back from him, her hands holding tightly to her skirt. The door opened and Beth stepped out. "He's ready, and he's very excited about this. You've been good for him."
"Too bad I can't say the same thing. He hasn't been good for me." Ivy pushed by Beth, her anger with Stuart raging inside her. Arrogant SOB. How dare he?
"Hello lass, how was your day?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
She started slightly when Stuart came up behind her and goosed her. "On the company I've been keeping. I think perhaps Stuart should go, and it should be just the two of us talking tonight."
There, that would fix his wagon. She might have asked for help from him earlier in the day but she'd changed her mind now.
"I'd love to stay," Stuart said. "Hearing Ham's stories always make me laugh."
"Yes," her father replied. "He always knows just what to put into a story to increase it's punch. Let him stay, lass."
Her father didn't seem as strong tonight as he had that afternoon, but at least he wasn't gasping for air. She nodded, then sat in the chair Stuart pushed up behind her. He brought up one of his own, turned it then straddled it backward.
"What are we telling her tonight?"
"About how I met her mother. Seems the lass knows nothing."
"I'd believe that," Stuart said, grinning at her when she slapped his thigh.
"Your mother was here to visit a friend," he said softly. "Someone she'd known all her life, I'm not sure how."
"Here, in Scotland?" Her mother had never mentioned that to her, either. It made her wonder what else she'd not told Ivy.
"Aye, some friend of the family that lives a ways down the road. The MacNeills." He took a deep breath. "They invited us all to a dinner, to welcome their American friend. And when I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."
"She always was pretty," Ivy said. "Even now."
"You've got a lot of her in you," her father replied. "I remember going up to her and sticking out my hand. She batted her baby blue eyes at me and I was a goner. I had to have her."
"You feel in love with her that fast?"
"I fell in lust with her. Generous curves and full lips. I wanted her very badly."
"Figures." Ivy shook her head. "Just like a man, never wanting anything but sex. No wonder it didn't last."
Stuart poked her side and she pushed at him. "Stop that!"
"You asked."
"Yeah, well then you can just forget about..."
Her father's voice boomed out again. He didn't acknowledge her comment, or the tugging match she and Stuart were having.
"She led me on a right merry chase," he said. "She wanted me as much as I did her. But she didn't give in right away. She made me take her on picnics, and to the museums in town."
"Town? Here?"
"No, in Edinburgh. I even took her all the way to London. And that's where she finally gave in, but not before I'd confessed my dying love to her."
"Yeah, that lasted."
Her father's hurt look made her swallow hard, and the hard jab Stuart gave her made her gasp out loud.
"What did I tell you?"
"What? I'm only stating facts. It didn't last. They were together what, a few months before he was off lifting someone else's skirt?"
"Last warning, and remember, you asked me to help you stay in line."
"Well, I've changed my mind. Did you mean it, when you told her you loved her, or was that just a way to get her to part her thighs for you? You're a real bastar..."
"Ivy!" Stuart stood so fast his chair almost toppled. Beth, who had been sitting quietly by the other side of the bed, shot daggers at Ivy.
"It's fine," her father said. "She's a right to be angry."
"Angry yes, foul-mouthed no."
"I did love her," her father said. His eyes were drooping an she knew he was fading fast. "I didn't want to hurt her anymore, and that's why she left."
"Bullshit. You just told yourself that to make it better for you. You didn't give a damn about either of us, admit it. I was just a product of your lust, not your love. And you kept thinking with your dick, didn't you? That's why mom left, because you were sticking it into..."
"All right, that's enough." Beth pointed toward the door. "Out with you."
"No," her father said, even as his eyes closed, then reopened seconds later. "We're not done. She needs this, and I want to at least give her the chance to let me know how she feels."
"No," Beth said. "I won't stand her and let her cuss you. She needs her mouth washed out with soap is what she needs. Take her away, Stuart. If she's better behaved tomorrow, she might be able to come back."
Ivy looked down at her father, whose eyes were now closed. His chest rose and fell softly in sleep.
Stuart took her arm and pulled her toward the doorway. He pushed her through, then wheeled her around to face him.
"Didn't you listen to me? Or did you not take me seriously? It's to the woodshed with you, and right now." He drug her toward the stairs and she tried to gain a foothold to stop her forward progress.
"Don't you dare! I swear I'll call the cops, get your hands off me!"
When they were at the stairs, he turned to her, backing her up until she was against the wall, his chest pressed right into hers. "I warned you, didn't I?"
His breath was hot on her face.
"Don't think I'm just going to go lightly into what you want. If you lay a hand on me, I swear...oh!" The breath went out of her lungs as he reached down and swooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder and starting down the stairs.
She beat her fists against his back, hoping to hurt him enough so that he would drop her. Is grip was tight, though, and he reached the first floor without missing a step. She tried to grab at lamps and candlesticks as they walked by, intent on hitting him upside the head with it. He moved through the kitchen, which Ivy was happy to see was empty, then out into the cold Scotland night.
Mist rose from the ground as she continued to fight him, and when they walked by a tree, her efforts at grasping things paid off. She grabbed a branch, and held tight, it broke in her hands and she clasped it tight, striking his lower legs with it.
It distracted him enough so that he tripped, and the two of them went tumbling down. Once on the ground, she tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her leg and crawled up behind her, his hands moving her skirt aside. She continued to try and flee. One quick pull and she heard her panties rip.
The first strike of his hand made her gasp. The sting rang through her body and she tried to turn, but he had her firmly in place under him now, her body pressed into the cool, damp earth.
"You will behave." And with that he started to spank her, his hand landing harder wi
th each stroke.
Ivy clawed at the dirt and grass as she tried to get away, the pain radiating through her buttocks and thighs.
"What happened to you saying you felt back, huh?" He moved his hand back and forth between her buttocks, landing the swats on first one, and then the other. "Weren't you the one who said you wanted to behave? And then you spout your garbage at him."
"I'm allowed! He deserted me!" The swats grew harder and she screamed in frustration. After a few long minutes he stopped, his body still on hers to keep her in place. She could hear him doing something, but she wasn't sure what.
"You know, my ma used to tell me, when I'd had a fight with whatever girl I was with at the moment and she hadn't called, that the phone worked both ways. I could have called her, and worked things out. Likewise, you could have called your da. You're not a child, you're a woman, and if you were that angry about it, then you should have done something."
"OW!" She knew now what he'd been doing. He'd been cleaning off the branch she'd hit him with, pulling away the tiny twigs and bark so that he could use it to strike her ass. "That hurts! Stop it."
Three more landed and she cried out.
"You need a good switching. I can't believe you were the same woman I'd talked to that afternoon, who said she didn't want to push him into the afterlife."
The switch came own over and over and Ivy sobbed. She could feel the lashes on her bottom. She tried to concentrate on the number, hoping it would take her mind off the pain that was seeping into her body.
She'd reached seventeen when he stopped. She could hear his breath, heavy with anger and exertion.
"Do I need to continue? I trust this will serve as a reminder to behave yourself in the future."
"Yes." She bit her tongue to keep the rest of what she wanted to say inside. She was in too vulnerable a position right now to say, "You can kiss my ass, you moron. And I'm glad you've left bruises, so I can show them to the cops and then laugh when they arrest you."
When the pressure was gone from her body, she stood quickly, trying to run for the house. He grabbed her wrist, though, and pulled her toward a small cottage.
