When I’d arrived at Sawyer’s home earlier, the piano music had drawn me in, captivating and sad and beautiful, carrying me through the door like a leaf in the wind, unaware I was about to step on a landmine.
Sawyer’s arrogant demeanor from the other day had disappeared, and the brokenness and vulnerability in his expression sliced right through me. I’d wanted to help, to be there for him. But he’d stared at me like I was the last person he cared to see, with accusing eyes, as if I caused his pain.
I’d be crazy not to rethink this whole thing—this job. I’d had enough drama in my life, and I didn’t need more. Moving to Alabama was supposed to be peaceful. A new start. Instead, I felt overwhelmed and lost like a boat adrift in the sea.
Get out and don’t come back. Isn’t that what he’d said? I was totally fired.
After what seemed like hours of quiet contemplation but was most likely only a few minutes, I picked up the phone and called Hayden Jeffries.
“Hi Mr. Jeffries, this is Ivy. Are you free to talk?”
“Great to hear from you, Ivy. Yes, I’m available. How is everything going?”
I hesitated. “Not good. There was an incident.”
“Oh?” He spoke in a low, concerned tone.
“Sawyer texted me not to come today, only I didn’t see the text. When I got to the house, he seemed pretty upset. He looked almost broken, Mr. Jeffries. He shouldn’t be alone, but he made it clear he doesn’t want me back.”
There was a long pause. “Oh, no. I forgot what today is.” He blew out a breath. “This whole thing’s my fault.”
“Mr. Jeffries, what’s going on? He practically exploded.”
“Today is the anniversary of his family’s accident.”
There was silence and my throat constricted. “And I made it worse by barging in on him during his grief.” My hand covered my forehead. “I feel terrible.”
“You had no idea what you were walking into. I should have anticipated this day and warned you,” he said, voice grave. “I’m upset with myself for losing track. I’ll talk to Sawyer and straighten this out.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. If he didn’t hate me before, he does now. To be honest, I’m not so sure I’m cut out for this.” I ran a hand back and forth across my neck, attempting to loosen the tension that had built up. “Besides, he only agreed to my employment with him so you wouldn’t quit. And he refuses to interact or give me tasks.”
“He told you about my ultimatum?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Ivy, I’m going to tell you something Sawyer didn’t want you to know, for pride’s sake really, but I think we’re past that now. I insisted he hire a companion. He’s alone all the time, doesn’t go out except for church on Sundays, and even then, he sits in the balcony and talks to no one. He needs human contact. The assistant position was an excuse to find someone to keep him company.”
“I see.” The puzzle pieces began to make sense: the vague description of job duties, the resistance on Sawyer's part, and Mr. Jeffries' overzealous desire for Sawyer to hire an assistant.
“You don’t need to worry if he doesn’t give you tasks. Just be there with him and try to draw him out.”
If his admission was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t. I was no psych major, definitely not a social worker, and the last thing I knew how to do was help someone who clearly didn’t want me there. I would rather shuffle paperwork or take out his dry cleaning. Not that I didn’t care, but was I the right person to help Sawyer?
“Mr. Jeffries, is Sawyer suicidal?”
“Not that I’m aware. He’s sad, yes. But he’s never made a comment that would lead me to assume he wants to end his life. Ivy, if you’d seen the way he was as a teenager, you’d understand why I’m so concerned. He used to be outgoing and so filled with life, playing basketball and spending time with friends. He was involved at church and looked forward to the future. But now . . .”
“I’m a math major. I don’t know anything about working with someone like Sawyer. I don’t see how this will work.”
“Please don’t quit. Just give it more time. I believe you’ll make a difference in Sawyer’s life if you give it a chance.”
“I’ll think about it.”
After we said our goodbyes, I hung up. I’d thought earlier I could stick it out and prove to Sawyer that I wouldn’t let him get the best of me. But I was in over my head, and working with Sawyer was more complicated than I’d originally thought. I should cut my losses and move on before things got worse.
I would have to find another job—it was as simple as that. Even though I didn’t want to ask, Mom and Dad would have my back if money got tight. They didn’t have much, but they’d help me in a tight spot. Tomorrow I’d call Mr. Jeffries and tell him my decision. He had enough to worry about today.
***
I met Sammie and Skylar for dinner at a local college hangout. According to Sammie, it was the “it-place” to be, not only because it had the best food in Tuscaloosa, but because it featured different live bands every week. The restaurant was packed with students. An eight-foot circular light fixture with individual bulb lights hung overhead. Brick walls, rectangular tables, and stairs leading to a second level emitted a fun and lively ambiance.
The hostess led us to a table on the second floor, and a waiter took our orders while a band played an upbeat song. But even the music didn’t lift my spirits.
Sky laughed and chatted about her classes. She and Sammie commiserated about research papers, and they both looked at me for input, but I remained quiet, inwardly beating myself up for how I’d handled things with Sawyer. I kept replaying in my head the moment he told me to leave, and how angry and hurt he’d appeared.
Sammie put a hand on my arm. “What’s wrong? How was your day at the mansion?” In jest, she’d started referring to Sawyer’s house as “the mansion” after I’d described the home in detail.
The question drew Sky’s attention. “You work at a mansion?”
“Worked at a mansion,” I said. “Today was my last day.”
Sammie’s eyes widened. “Whoa . . . Did something happen?”
My stomach tightened. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “He told me to get out.”
Sammie leaned forward on the table. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” I glanced around the room, making sure no one could hear us, which was overkill since the music drowned out all the voices in the area. “You know how you’re always telling me I should check my text messages more often?”
“Uh-huh. You’re a hard girl to reach sometimes.”
“Well, Sawyer sent a text asking me not to come to work today, only I never saw it. When I arrived at his home, he exploded. Turned out today was the anniversary of his family’s car accident. They didn’t survive.”
“Oh, Ivy, that’s terrible,” Sammie said. “He must have been going through a lot.”
“Unfortunately, I think I made his day worse.” I sunk down in my chair and crossed my arms. “I tried to comfort him, but he asked me to leave. This is way beyond my skillset. Tomorrow, I’m letting Mr. Jeffries know I’m not coming back.”
Sammie squeezed my shoulder. “Well, I support whatever choice you make, but my best advice is to pray on it before you decide.”
I glanced between her and Sky. “The Lord will have to change my heart if He doesn’t want me to quit. I moved to Alabama for a drama-free life, and working for Sawyer is not drama-free.”
Sammie smirked. “Drama-free lives only exist in heaven.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Sky declared. Then she sobered. “You said it was the anniversary of an accident? What happened? And who is this guy?”
My phone rang, and I glanced down to see who it was from. “I have to take this,” I said apologetically. “Mom’s been trying to get a hold of me all day.”
I’d been avoiding her calls, sure that if I spoke with her my sullen mood would only make her worry. I mo
tioned to Sammie and Sky that I’d be outside and strode out the door and down the street until the pulsing beat of the music faded enough that I could focus.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi sweetie, I miss you. It’s not the same with you gone.”
“Miss you too.” Tears stung my eyes. Hearing her voice made me homesick, especially after the day I'd had.
“Do you have a second?” she asked. “We need to talk about something.”
“Sure. I’m out to dinner with friends, but I always have time for you.”
“Thank you, baby. I’ll be quick.” I heard the smile in her voice.
There was a short pause. “Your dad fell yesterday and broke his leg.”
My body tensed. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“He’s all right. His pride’s a little injured, but he’s fine. I mopped the kitchen floor and told him to stay off it, but he forgot. He was going for a glass of water, but he slipped and went down so hard it scared both of us. Anyway, we sat in the emergency room for hours. He’s got a cast and he’ll be off work for a while.”
I sucked in a breath. “Poor Dad. Is he there? Can I talk to him?”
“He's sleeping right now. Call back tomorrow.” She hesitated. “There’s more. Larry hired another part-time waitress. Said he can’t afford to keep paying overtime to those of us who’ve been working double shifts.”
My heart sank. I’d asked my parents over and over to move out of California because the living expenses were too high for their meager salaries. They’d always refused, stating they liked the weather. “Are you and Dad going to be okay? Will you have enough money to get by?”
“We’ll have to watch every penny but we’ll be fine.” Mom’s voice wavered, and then she remained quiet for a few moments. “But Ivy . . .” In the background, I heard sniffling. “We won’t be able to help you out if you’re in a bind out there.”
“Are you crying, Mom? Please don’t cry. Should I come home? I can try to get my old job back. Help out.”
“No. Don’t worry about us.” Her voice was firm. “You’ll miss a whole semester if you leave. I want you to stay where you are, but I thought you should know.”
“I hate thinking about you and Dad struggling. I should come home.”
“Don’t you dare. We all worked hard to get you where you are now. Coming home would only set you back, and Dad and I don’t want that. God has always provided for us and that won’t stop now.” I could tell she was crying again but trying to muffle it. “This all came at the worst time. Are you okay? You aren’t hurting for money, are you?”
My shoulders sagged, disappointment settling like a heavy load. I couldn’t quit. That wasn’t possible anymore. Not when finances were tight and there’d be no safety net. “Everything’s fine.” My voice sounded too high-pitched.
Sawyer may not want me to return, but maybe Mr. Jeffries would smooth things over.
“Don’t worry, Mom. It’ll be okay. I have a good job and I’ll send money home once I pay off the rent and get my expenses situated.” I made my voice more convincing that time, and after Mom and I chatted for a while longer, I told her I had to go.
When I walked back inside the restaurant, Sammie and Sky watched me expectedly. I grimaced. “Looks like God just changed my heart.”
Chapter 12
Ivy
The next day I cleaned my room while thinking about the conversation I’d had earlier in the morning with Mr. Jeffries.
He’d informed me I was free to return and resume my duties. And he’d made it sound as if Sawyer was in full agreement—that it had taken little to persuade him. I somehow doubted that was the entire story. Not that I thought Mr. Jeffries wasn’t honest, but I had a feeling he embellished a bit because he wanted this to work out so badly.
I folded and put away clean clothes in the dresser and glanced at the clock, scrunching up my face when I realized it was almost time to leave. Was I ready for another round of this?
Did Sawyer change his mind about me, or was he simply holding to an agreement with Mr. Jeffries? Either way, I had to be more careful. Unless I wanted to set myself up for a repeat, I needed to start checking my text messages—often.
I prayed God would help me have a better attitude.
A few hours later, I climbed the stairs of his home, heart pounding and palms sweaty. You can do this, Ivy. He’s just a regular guy. No need to work yourself up.
Who was I kidding? This was the most daunting situation I’d ever dealt with.
I took a few steps inside the parlor, not sure if he’d heard me approach. He stood at the window in his standard uniform: black jeans hanging low on his hips, black t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and scary black combat boots worn to make a statement—a reminder he could kick me out of his house anytime he wanted.
Despite that reminder, my traitorous heart fluttered when he turned to look at me.
Today, he varied from said uniform by wearing a dark gray skull cap, fitted over hair that hit the bottom of his neck and curled just slightly at the ends. He didn’t vary the tight-lipped, cold glare thrown my way. That was exactly the same.
He was utterly . . . standoffish.
Indifferent.
Intimidating.
He’d put emotional distance between us; I saw it in his stiff spine, arms crossed at his chest, and the determined clench of his jaw that suggested an unwillingness to budge an inch. It was rude, exasperating, and completely unnecessary.
I speculated that he depended on no one and put up walls to keep everyone out. Anyone who managed to crack one of his dividing barriers would find a new one slammed into place within seconds.
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward. “Sawyer.”
He remained silent, intent on ignoring me.
Biting down on my lower lip, I crossed the room to the window where he stood and handed him my schedule for the week. “I wrote this down so you’ll know when to expect me.”
He took the paper and crumbled it into a ball, tossing it like a free-throw into a trash can by his desk. “Come whenever. It’s not as if I’ll keep track.”
Okay, that was . . . not very nice. Take the high road, Ivy. I lingered for another moment. “I want to apologize for intruding the other day.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, voice gruff.
His disdain rattled me to the core. Why did I care so much?
Lord, help me deal with this. Help me know what to say next.
“Can we start over?” I asked. “We got off on the wrong foot.”
He moved away from the window and lowered himself into the chair at his desk, fingering a brown, leather book. It reminded me of a Bible, but seemed too thin, though it could have been a New Testament.
“Why bother? Nothing’s changed.”
Pressing my lips into a hard line, I threw a glass of cold water on the hot frustration bubbling up within me. But when my eyes fell to the weariness etched on his face, my heart turned over. He was so alone in this big house. I wanted to say something encouraging, anything to lift him out of his fog, but words evaded me.
I watched him for a few moments, and then sighing, moved to the couch and sat down. Why hadn’t I brought schoolwork? Now I had to hang around like a lurker staring into space. I checked my cell phone. Great. It had barely been two minutes since I’d arrived.
“Would you like to play a game?” I asked, glancing at the back of his head as he sat ram-rod straight at his desk. “Mr. Jeffries mentioned you like chess.”
He let out an exaggerated breath. From my vantage point, I could see him flipping through the book, but it didn’t look like he was reading anything—more like he wanted to appear busy. “You don’t need to entertain me,” he said. “I know how to keep myself occupied.”
“I’m sure you do. But I’m here, so let’s find something we can do together.”
He didn’t turn around. “If you’re bored, I suggest you bring a book. Don’t you have required reading for college?
”
“Sure. But it seems silly you’re going to pay me for doing my own work.”
“Look, Hayden wants you here, so you’ll get paid no matter what you do. You’re a warm body filling space. The sooner you get that through your head, the better.”
Warm body filling space. He had such a way with words. “What is it you want, Sawyer? Please, tell me.”
He pivoted in his chair, and the full force of his gaze fell upon me. “To be left alone.”
It was hard not to take his statement personally, though he may have said the same to anyone.
“I have a feeling Mr. Jeffries had a different plan in mind when he asked you to hire me.”
He didn’t blink. “He’s not here, and you answer to me. Find something to do, and stay out of my way.”
With enormous effort, I kept my expression neutral. It wouldn’t help to meet his brisk manner with impatience. I could call Mr. Jeffries, but tattling on Sawyer would only make the situation worse.
“Can I borrow a book?”
He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “Go ahead.”
I wandered down the hall to the library and browsed the volumes on the shelves, running a finger along the outside bindings. Some appeared really old, ready to come apart at the seams. I walked over to the section with contemporary selections and pulled out a few to peruse. I felt a stab of guilt. It would be so easy to hide in here, but that wasn’t what Mr. Jeffries had in mind. His whole purpose was to hire someone who would connect with Sawyer.
The classic novel, The Hobbit, by J. R. R. Tolkien caught my eye, so I took it and strode back to the parlor with an idea. Maybe he’d notice my book choice and it would spark conversation. Yes, I was grasping at straws, but at this point, I had to do something.
As I walked in, I made a show of plopping down on the couch. Sawyer’s eyes slid to the book in my hand, but he said nothing, and the quiet in the room thickened with unease.
The Unwanted Assistant Page 9
