by Olivia Miles
“You mean you’ve kept this from us for all these years?” Grace looked so hurt that instantly Ivy regretted her decision.
“With all the talk about my mom, I never felt like a regular kid. I just wanted to be a regular kid.” She swallowed. “Then, when I grew up, I finally had a chance to be my own person. Not Debbie’s daughter. It was liberating. I didn’t want to do anything to taint it.”
“And no one else knows?” Kara blinked rapidly, as if trying to process this.
“Henry and Jane.” She glanced guiltily at her future sister-in-law and back to Grace. “I asked her not to say anything.”
“I think I understand.” Grace smiled sadly. “I just wish it hadn’t taken you this long to know we don’t care. Well, we care, but it doesn’t change the way we think of you.”
“Some people would care, though,” Ivy said, thinking of Brett. He didn’t want to be burdened by her condition. Didn’t want to deal with the complications that could arise. Didn’t want to get close to someone who came with risks.
“Well, you’re the only person I will say this to, then, but Ivy, do not buy one of my cookies. Ever.” The women all laughed, and even Ivy joined in. Phrased any differently, that type of remark would have been her worst fears coming true, but in the company of true friends, it was just what she needed to lighten the mood.
Ivy wondered if she should take the opportunity to tell them about Brett and decided against it. Some things were worth sharing. Some were better forgotten.
The emergency room was quiet, but Brett roamed its halls just the same, trying to push back the urge that wouldn’t go away. Finally, in the break room, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
One of the nurses was eating a microwaved dinner, one eye on the evening news, one eye, he noticed with chagrin, on him. She’d been here the night they’d brought in the woman. The woman he’d thought for a fleeting moment had been Ivy.
He never asked. Never in all his time working, but this hit too close to home, as did Ivy’s words.
“You know that woman that came in last week? Hypoglycemia?”
The nurse pushed air out of her lips and squinted at the wall, as if trying to recall. “I think so. Thirtyish?” She poked her plastic fork into the dish. “Why?”
“I was just wondering if there was any follow-up on her condition.”
“Check the system,” the nurse replied, and Brett blinked. He’d never considered it. Never, in all his years learning and practicing medicine. He wondered what that said about him. As a doctor. As a person.
Quickly, he went to the nearest computer and pulled up the logs from the night she’d been brought in. The cursor hovered over his name, and then he clicked it, scanning the information on the screen as quickly as his eyes would let him. It wasn’t until he saw that she’d been discharged with no complications that he was able to let out a breath.
He turned from the screen and took the next clipboard from its rack before pulling back the curtain of an exam room. An older woman sat on the edge of the table, looking at him worriedly.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Hastings.” He glanced down at the chart again before setting it on the counter. “Let’s see what’s going on here.” He set his stethoscope against her back and instructed her to take a big breath in. He listened carefully and then reached for the chart, making a note.
“It’s these headaches,” the woman was saying. “They won’t go away.”
He nodded, frowning, and began strapping the blood pressure cuff on her thin arm. He already suspected the issue, and the results proved it. “It says in your chart that you take medication to control your blood pressure. It’s elevated today, and that could be one of the causes of your headache. It’s a serious condition.” And a silent killer, he thought to himself.
“I wasn’t able to refill my pills this month,” the woman explained.
He stared at her, his jaw tensing as he considered the situation, thinking of Ivy, of what his mother had said, of how many other people were dealing with this same dilemma. There were plenty of doctors who would write the script, tell the patient what they needed, give them a stern lecture if needed, and then move on to the next patient. But this woman was alone, she was old, and she needed his help. And somehow, he was going to find a way to give it to her. It was why he’d gone to med school, why he’d left his family behind. Why he’d made every choice he had over the years. To help people the very best way he could, plain and simple.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, I’m glad you came in when you did. Let’s see what we can do about this.”
After an in-depth examination and sample of pills that should last until her next scheduled appointment, Brett told the nurse he’d be back to check on the patient in an hour and walked to the nearest elevator.
He had an idea. And something told him it might just be the best one he’d ever had.
CHAPTER
28
The hospital fundraiser was off to a good start, Ivy noticed with satisfaction, but it still did little to keep her nerves at bay. She couldn’t help it. The thought of talking to Brett—heck, even the thought of seeing him—made her stomach feel all queasy and her heart speed up. It had taken everything in her to come today—at least a dozen times she’d almost turned the car around. But she was too close, and she’d come too far, to let this latest setback get her down.
After all, she was used to dusting herself off, even if she was growing tired of it.
The white hydrangeas were the perfect complement to the small candles that lit every table and created a glow out on the veranda. The sun was starting to set over the hills, and soon dinner would be served. Brett was yet to surface, at least as far as she could tell from the frantic sweeps of her eye around the room, but he’d have to show up for the meal, thank everyone for coming, and explain where the proceeds of the event were going.
And she, well, she would just have to keep her back to him, focus on the pretty centerpieces she’d made and not the ache in her chest.
Kara came up beside her as she was studying the silent auction table, pleased to see that several bids had already been added to her sheet and that her stack of business cards had been cut in half.
“I hope dinner is ready soon, because I feel like I could fall over.” Despite her complaint, Kara had never looked happier.
Ivy was happy to have someone to talk to. The worst thing that could happen was for Brett to find her unaware, alone, to want to talk or explain himself again. She’d heard enough. “Don’t tell me you’ve been baking all day,” she said, noticing a bit of shadowing under her friend’s eyes.
“Try all night.” Kara grinned. “Anna let me use the kitchen at the restaurant, but I had to clear out before the staff took over this morning.” She leaned in closer. “My mom saw the cookies.”
Ivy looked at her, startled. “Didn’t she know?”
“I never found a way to tell her. But… she was happy for me. I think she almost seemed… relieved.” Kara smiled.
“All she wanted was for you to be happy,” Ivy said.
Kara nodded. “We’re going to meet for lunch next weekend. She’s going to give me some tips on running a business. I was hoping you might share a few, too.”
“Me?” Ivy was flattered. “Sure, but I’m not certain what I could add.”
“More than you know,” Kara said. “Look around, Ivy. You’ve got your name stamped all over this event. You’ve made it.”
Ivy looked around the room, from the crisp white tablecloths to the tasteful arrangements, neither too big nor too small, and then, realizing she might accidentally catch the eye of a certain someone she didn’t want to see, turned back to her friend. Maybe she had made it, without even realizing it. And maybe, like Kara, it would be enough. Enough to fill her heart. Enough to give her purpose.
Not everyone was meant to have the cookie-cutter family life. She’d never had that, and she’d ended up just fine. Somehow.
The girls promised to meet later and hurried to tak
e their seats as the bell was rung for dinner and the waiters began filling the Champagne glasses at each place. Ivy kept her head low, weaving her path to her assigned table, and slid in next to Henry.
“Beautiful event,” Henry said, holding up his glass of Champagne. Ivy reached for her water glass, but he grinned. “One sip won’t kill you.”
She blinked in surprise and reached for her Champagne glass. It was slightly reckless, but not overly so, and it was the gesture that meant more than the drink. She held up her glass and clinked it with Henry’s before taking a minuscule sip—one that would last her all night.
Feeling better than she had since Brett had ended things, she turned just in time to see Brett lift the mike. At once, she felt her smile slip, but she lifted her chin, determined to stay strong, to remind herself that it wasn’t meant to be, that he wasn’t the man for her, even if at one point she might have wished he could be.
She glanced around the room, at so many familiar faces that made up her life. He was just one person who had come and gone through it. But the others… they were permanent fixtures.
Brett tapped the mike, and the room quieted. Pausing, he tucked one hand in the pocket of his black suit pants and welcomed everyone to the event. He paused to thank the staff, the contributors, and, catching her eye, Ivy.
She looked away quickly, hating the flush that worked its way up her cheeks. She reached for her water glass with a shaking hand, and then, on second thought, left it on the table, where it couldn’t tip or spill. So he’d thanked her. It was the polite thing to do, and really, she had done quite a bit.
“As most of you know, this year’s proceeds are going to support the new oncology wing, scheduled to break ground next spring.” He motioned to a rendering of the expansion, and the crowd clapped. “However, we’ve decided to do something a little different this year, and that is to ask for your support in another endeavor, one that we don’t want to put off until next year’s fundraiser.” He paused to straighten his tie. He looked handsome, standing at the head of the room, the tall, dark-haired doctor, but that’s all he was. A good-looking man. And the one who had broken her heart.
“Many of you in the crowd are people who know me. People who know my family. Maybe even the reason why I became a doctor to begin with.” He looked at Ivy, and she glanced away. This was the hard part, she knew. Soon, he would take his seat, and that voice, those eyes, would be out of her mind. “Most of us become doctors for one reason: to help people. And I’m happy tonight to announce that in a few short months, Forest Ridge Hospital will be opening a free clinic so that everyone who needs medical care can access it, twenty-four hours a day.”
A cheer went up in the crowd, and Ivy scanned the room before returning her attention to Brett. This couldn’t mean… But why hadn’t he told her?
Dr. Feldman took the microphone. “On behalf of Forest Ridge Hospital and everyone who participated in tonight’s event, I’m happy to announce that Dr. Hastings will be overseeing the clinic, as an extension of his emergency department duties. We’re lucky to have him.”
Ivy felt the color drain from her face as she gaped at Brett. He was staring at her, his eyes dark and penetrating, but she couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t understand what he wanted her to feel, or if he even cared at all.
She looked over at the table where Sharon Hastings sat with Mark and Anna. No one looked surprised by the news, not even Kara. So they’d known all along. He’d told them, everyone, just not her.
“I think I see an arrangement that needs tending to,” she whispered to Henry as she set her napkin on her plate.
A look of alarm flashed over her brother’s face, pulling his attention from the front of the room, where Dr. Feldman was explaining the benefits of the clinic, the people it would help, the care they would finally receive, closer to home.
“Is everything okay?” Henry hissed.
“Yes, of course.” Ivy managed a tight smile and hurried away from the table, desperate to leave, to get some air, and to get away. She’d thought she was over him. She thought she’d finally put this silly crush to rest once and for all. But then Brett had to go and do something nice… something noble. Something respectable. Something that reinforced all those feelings she didn’t want to have, because he didn’t hold any of them for her.
“Ivy.”
She turned, her heart pounding, and saw Brett standing in the lobby behind her, his jaw tense, his eyes flat. They stood like that for several seconds, until she had the nerve to speak.
“Sticking around town after all, then?” Her tone was bitter, betraying her hurt, and she hated that he had the satisfaction of knowing just how much pain he’d caused her. “Why the about-face?”
He shrugged, a small smile playing on his mouth. “You.”
She blinked. He hadn’t just said that. It was her imagination, running wild again. “Me.” She folded her arms across her chest, not buying it.
“It was what you said… about not caring about my patients enough. About not getting invested. Not getting close.” He took a step toward her, and she backed up until her heel caught the bottom of the coat rack. She had to steady herself with it to keep from falling over. With nothing to do other than turn and bolt out the doors, she sighed and stayed put. She’d hear him out, and then she’d go. Home. To her apartment. To the bed she’d so recently shared with him. To her little shop that was the corner of her world that would always be sunshine and roses, no matter how rough things got.
“I’m happy to hear I could help.” She pursed her lips together, wishing he would just go away.
“You did help. More than you know. You opened my eyes, Ivy. You made me look inside myself. Face my fears. Question what I want for myself. For my life.”
Ivy wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d taken a breath, but all at once the smell of warmth and musk washed over her as he stepped closer, then closer still. There was nowhere to run, even if she wanted to, and she wasn’t so sure she did anymore. He was walking slowly, closing the distance between them, his eyes so dark and earnest, his smile gentle, his voice kind.
She wanted to believe him. Every word he was saying. Every good deed he’d done. She wanted to believe he was the good, kind, solid man she’d known since he was just a boy, but she still couldn’t see past the jerk, the cold heart, the man who had told her he couldn’t be involved with her, couldn’t deal.
While she… she had no choice but to deal. And that’s what she’d always done. Sucked it up. Put one foot in front of the other.
She didn’t run. And she wouldn’t run now.
“Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, Ivy. You made me want to be a better man. You saw me as a man I could have been, and maybe still can. The man I want to be.”
She now wasn’t sure when she had last blinked. But when she did, a single tear rolled slowly down her cheek. “But those things you said—”
“I was scared.” He shook his head, frowning. “Scared of getting close. Scared of losing everything I cared about, really. People. My work. You.”
She almost smiled at that. “Guess that made two of us.”
“I want to try again, Ivy. What do you say?”
“I…” She was scared. Scared to give in again, to the feelings, to him, to have this exact scenario repeat itself in another few weeks. But then she thought of what he was saying, what he was asking. He’d taken a leap of faith. Could she do it, too?
“I’m not a perfect man, Ivy. I’m not a perfect doctor. I thought I was, but… now I think I can be even better.” He reached out and took her hand, holding it between his two warm palms. “I messed up, Ivy. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I promise you, I never make the same mistake twice.”
She looked up at him, noticing the calmness in his face, the peace that hadn’t seemed to have been there all summer. The line between his brows was gone, and there was a light in his eyes, which had once been flat. He’d found peace with himself. She�
��d seen it with her brother, when he finally discovered where he was meant to be.
Here, she realized. In Briar Creek. At the community hospital. With her, if she’d have him.
“Your boutonniere is all crooked,” she mumbled, reaching up to adjust the single white rose that was pinned on his lapel. “I’m surprised you even agreed to wear it, given how you feel about flowers.”
“Actually, I’ve had a change of heart about that, too.” He grinned, and her heart began to flutter.
“Oh?” She slid the stem to the left, letting her hand rest on his chest. “Any reason in particular?”
Brett sighed. “Well, there’s this girl…”
“Ah, it always starts with a girl.” Ivy grinned.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, but how does the story end, Ivy?”
She held his gaze warily, her chest rising and falling with each breath as the weight of the moment bore down on her. The choice was hers. To run or leap. And she’d never been a quitter. For some reason, life was determined to make her work for the good times, but she’d learned to spot them, reach for them, and fight for them. And this was one of those moments.
There was only one way her story could ever end, she thought, smiling. She reached up and flung her arms around his neck. “Happily,” she said before planting a kiss on his lips.
EPILOGUE
There was a decided chill in the air, even though it was only September, and Ivy swore she had seen a tip of red on a few maple leaves this morning. She took a bucket of sunflowers from Chloe, her new full-time assistant, and got to work on an arrangement for Rosemary and Thyme, humming under her breath.
Anna and Mark were having a goodbye party for Kara tonight, now that her bakery was ready to open. It was the first party where she wouldn’t have to worry about fake-eating cake, or pretending to sip Champagne, or claim she had more stomach issues. It was freeing, and a weight on her shoulders she hadn’t even known was there all these years was now finally lifted.
When the arrangement was finished, Ivy turned to the computer screen and looked over her schedule. She’d expected some uptick in business after the fundraiser, but she hadn’t prepared herself for the windfall of orders that hit almost immediately following the event. In addition to Jane and Henry’s wedding next weekend, she had ten more to plan for, eight baby showers, six bridal showers, and enough Christmas parties to keep her busy all year round, not to mention a waiting list for her monthly flower arranging classes.
