Igniting Ivy (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Ivy

  I look at myself in the mirror, thinking I look kind of green. I’m not sure why I woke up feeling so crappy. Last night was incredible. It was even better than Hawaii. It was better because I think we both knew last night was only the beginning. Maybe the reason I look like death warmed over is because today will be my first day back at work.

  I know Dahlia will be everywhere. At the table in the corner that I had set up with arts and crafts. At the counter, charming customers. In the back, putting together flower arrangements with Aunt Holly and me.

  I walk back into my bedroom and sit on my bed, pulling Dahlia’s blanket into my lap. I page through the scrapbook of her drawings. Did she always make this many pictures of daisies? I don’t even remember some of them. Then again, they were her favorites, so maybe I was just blocking it out—my subconscious’ way of protecting me.

  I think about how in Hawaii, daisies seemed to be everywhere. I trace the outline of one of her creations, remembering her.

  I look up and study my favorite picture of her hanging over my bed. The one where she’s all dressed up and smiling for the camera. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was Valentine’s Day and Eli took Dahlia on a date. We went out and found a pretty red dress for her. I did her hair in the fancy braids she always liked. Eli brought her flowers and took her out to dinner. It was one of her good days. She wasn’t quite five years old and we hadn’t yet found out that her transplant was failing.

  I think of what a good father Eli was. He really knew how to make Dahlia laugh. While I was the one she lived with, the one who managed all of her appointments and hospital stays, he was the perfect part-time dad—the person who always made her smile even when there was nothing to smile about.

  I make it a point to remember to call him later. We haven’t spoken in a week.

  “Ready?” Holly asks, peeking her head in my doorway.

  “Just about.”

  I fold up the blanket and put it on my pillow. I’m not sure why I keep it there instead of on the foot of my bed. I guess I like the idea of her lying close to me. I run my hand over the soft material. “I love you, baby girl, but please, please don’t come to work with me today. I’m not sure I could handle it.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Holly asks from down the hall.

  “Nobody,” I say, grabbing my purse.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “You still talk to her, don’t you?”

  I shrug.

  “Does she talk back?” she asks warily.

  “I’m not crazy, you know.”

  “I never said you were. I was just wondering.”

  “She talks to me in my dreams sometimes,” I admit.

  “She does me too.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “She’s the one who told me to get rid of your apartment and move you in with me.”

  “It’s not really her, Hol. You know that, don’t you? Our dreams are just our subconscious talking.”

  “Believe what you want to, little sister. But I’m telling you, my niece and I have had some pretty interesting conversations.”

  I roll my eyes at her.

  “What? It’s true. And Grandpa Joe—he stops by, too. We party sometimes.”

  I laugh at her as I grab a muffin off the table. “Come on. I don’t want to be late for my first day back.”

  Twenty minutes later, I stand on the sidewalk as Holly unlocks the gate that covers the storefront windows. I watch her push it to the sides and then open the front door. I haven’t been here in months. I tried to come back to work in February, and then again in April, but both times I had anxiety attacks and had to leave.

  The first thing I notice when I enter the shop is that Dahlia’s corner table is gone. I wouldn’t let anyone move it before, but now, just like she did with my apartment, Holly has taken it upon herself to change things. I walk over to where it was. Tears well up in my eyes when I look at the wall. It has photos of Dahlia when she was painting. And there are framed pictures of her artwork, similar to the artwork Holly bound in the scrapbook at home.

  I turn around to see Holly staring at me.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  I reach out and touch Dahlia’s face. “Mommy is going to be okay.”

  The back doorbell chimes with our morning delivery and Holly runs back to get it. I set about checking on which flowers on the floor are still good enough to sell and which aren’t. I go around the store with my plastic bin, throwing the old ones into it, knowing they will be put to good use. We have a lady down the street who buys our older flowers, using the petals to make soap, bath bombs and perfume.

  I walk into the back and see Holly finishing up with the delivery guy. I start to unwrap everything when I notice something. “Holly, since when have we ordered this many daisies?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure. A month or so maybe. We’ve started to have a run on them for some reason.”

  My lips curve up into a smile. I can’t help but remember my daughter and her love of daisies. ‘Daisies gonna make everything better,’ I can almost hear her sweet voice say.

  Then my hand comes to my mouth and I feel sick. I quickly grab a bottle of water from our refrigerator and drink it to tamp down the acid in my throat. Then I hold the bottle to my forehead.

  “You okay?” Holly asks, putting a supportive hand on my arm.

  “Yeah. Just dealing with memories, I guess.”

  I busy myself cutting stems and arranging flowers. “What did Janie say when you told her I was coming back?”

  “She was happy for you. She’s working over at the Manhattan shop now.”

  I give her an accusing stare. “You mean she’s waiting for your call after I freak out and leave.”

  “That’s not how it is, Ivy. She’s helping out Mom and Dad. They are trying to cut back on their hours. They aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

  “Whatever.”

  It’s a lie. My parents haven’t even hit sixty yet. They love to work. Everyone is waiting for me to fail.

  At nine o’clock when the shop opens, I help the first few customers, happy to be back in the swing of things. I glance over to catch Holly smiling. She nods at me. Then I see her pull out her phone and tap on it. My bet is she’s sending a progress report to Mom, Dad, Alder, and Christina.

  “Tell them everything is A-Okay,” I shout from across the room.

  She laughs and gives me a thumbs-up.

  By lunchtime, it feels like I never left. I even managed not to break down when a long-time customer expressed her sympathies over Dahlia’s death.

  I can’t wait to tell Bass about my day. He’s going to be so proud of me.

  “Are you okay here while I run out and grab lunch for us?” Holly asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Any requests?”

  “Whatever you get will be fine.”

  “Okay. Be back in fifteen.”

  While she’s gone, I help a few customers and then I start on a new flower arrangement. It’s a mixture of dahlias, daisies, and baby’s breath. By the time I’m done, I know I won’t be selling this one. I set it aside to take home with me later. I have just the spot for it in our apartment.

  Holly comes through the door, carrying our lunch. As she takes it into the back room, the pungent smell of barbeque assaults my nose, making my stomach turn. I race past her and into the bathroom, just in time to heave over the toilet.

  Holly comes up behind me, holding my hair until I’m done. Then she hands me a wet paper towel and rubs my back as I clean myself up.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know how hard this must be on you.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that. I’m fine, Hol. Today has gone much better than I imagined. I mean, I felt a bit nauseous this morning, but it was to be expected.” I look over at the bag of takeout and nod to it. “It was the smell of the food. It was the strangest feeling. When I got a whiff, I just knew I was
going to throw up.”

  Holly closes the lid of the toilet and sits down on it. “Shit, Ivy, really? You don’t think you’re pregnant, do you?”

  “Pregnant?” A maniacal laugh escapes me. “Are you crazy? I’m on the pill, Hol.”

  She raises an accusing brow. “We both know you suck at taking it, Ivy.”

  “But Bass and I used condoms, too,” I say.

  Except for that one time on the cliff, my subconscious tells me.

  “Think about it,” she says. “The same thing happened to you the last two times. The first time, you couldn’t stomach the smell of bacon. Mom couldn’t make it for months. And what was it with Dahlia?”

  I close my eyes as my heart sinks. “Fish,” I say. “I couldn’t stand the smell of fish.” I look up at her. “Oh my God, Holly.”

  My throat becomes thick. It couldn’t be.

  “Wait here,” she says. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  I hear her go through the front door and lock it. Then a minute later, I hear her unlock it and then lock it again from the inside. She runs back into the bathroom, handing me a bag from the small market next door. “I bought three tests,” she says, walking out the door and closing it behind her.

  I stare at the pregnancy tests, not wanting to take them, but knowing I should. I think about the past few days, how I’ve been feeling off, but I did just come back from Hawaii, and my body is still getting used to the time difference. I try to remember the last time I had my period, but even on the pill, I’m not sure I’ve had a normal one since Dahlia died, so it’s hard to tell.

  Then I reach up and grab my breasts, thinking of how they’ve gotten heavier lately. But I guess I just thought it was all the food I consumed in Hawaii.

  No. I’m not pregnant. No way.

  By the time I’ve peed on all three sticks, I’ve convinced myself that Holly and I are crazy to even think it. I open the door and hand her the sticks. “No way am I pregnant,” I say, giving dirty looks to the takeout food on the counter as I make my way across the room for a bottle of water.

  Then I watch her as she looks at the clock on the wall for two more minutes.

  She looks down at the tests and then at me. “Then we better go get some more tests, because all of these are faulty.”

  I calmly walk back over to her, thinking she’s pranking me. But when I look down at the tests and see what she sees, I drop my water and run back to the bathroom to vomit once again.

  I sit down on the floor of the bathroom, wanting to shrivel up and make it all disappear.

  “I’m not surprised,” Holly says. “With all the sex you guys had in Hawaii. According to you, you fucked like rabbits.”

  Tears blur my vision and I close my eyes, causing warm droplets to fall onto my cheeks. “I-I can’t, Hol.”

  She takes a seat on the floor next to me and grabs my hand. “This won’t be like the others, Ivy. Maybe this is a blessing.”

  I look up at her, wanting so desperately to believe that’s true. “I’m terrified.”

  “It’s going to be fine,” she says. “You’ll see.”

  “What am I going to tell Bass? We’ve only been together for a few weeks.”

  “He loves you, Ivy. Everyone can see that. He’ll be okay with it. I promise you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head in denial. “I can’t tell him. Not until I know for sure. I have to know for sure, Hol.”

  She stands up and holds her hand out to me. “Okay, then. Come on, let’s go find out for sure.”

  “What do you mean? You know it takes weeks to get in to our gynecologist.”

  “We’re not going there, we’re going to the emergency room.”

  “This isn’t exactly an emergency,” I say.

  “Look at you,” she says, eyeing my face that’s smeared with mascara. “You’re a mess. You’re shaking uncontrollably. I’d say that’s an emergency. We’re going.”

  She wipes my face with a wet paper towel and then grabs our purses on the way to the door. She puts up the closed sign in the window and locks up. Then we walk four blocks over to the nearest hospital.

  It’s the longest walk of my life.

  ~ ~ ~

  I stare at the tiny blob on the ultrasound screen, unsure if I want to laugh, cry, or scream.

  Holly squeezes my hand. “It’s okay, Ivy. Everything will be okay.”

  Then I realize I’m feeling something I didn’t expect. I think I’m feeling … happy.

  “I can do this,” I say, already in love with the little life growing inside of me. “Even if he doesn’t want to do it with me, I can do this. Maybe this was meant to happen.”

  She smiles at me. “I think it absolutely was.”

  I can’t stop staring at the screen and the tiny pulsating heartbeat. But then I see something that makes me feel sick all over again. I see Dahlia’s birthdate in the corner of the screen. “What’s that?” I ask the technician, pointing to it.

  “That’s the EDC,” she says. “The day you got pregnant.”

  “What?” I try to sit up, but she’s still got the ultrasound wand stuck up my vagina. “No. Get it out,” I say, feeling bile rise up in my throat. “Now!”

  She pulls the wand out of me just in time for me to hurl over the side of the hospital bed.

  The tech rushes out of the room, presumably to fetch someone to clean up the mess I’ve made.

  “What is it?” Holly asks, seeing the terror on my face.

  “The d-date,” I say, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. “Dahlia’s b-birthday. It was weeks before I even met Bass. And Eli and I … We were sad. It just happened. And we didn’t use … Oh my God.”

  “Oh, Ivy,” she says, her face falling in understanding. “You slept with him?”

  My sister stares at me, knowing my world just fell apart for the third time.

  “How could God be so cruel?” I say, bringing a shaky hand to my mouth to cover my sobs.

  “There are no guarantees it will happen again,” she says. “Odds are the baby will just be a carrier.”

  Someone comes in to clean up my mess. “Are you okay?” the ultrasound tech asks, peeking around the curtain at us.

  “She’ll be fine,” Holly tells her. “This may not have turned out the way she wanted, but she’ll be fine. They both will be.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Hours later, I’m at home in my room, paging through Dahlia’s scrapbook, knowing I’m not strong enough to go through it all again. My first thought after seeing the date on the screen was to admit myself to the hospital so I could have an abortion. But my second thought, the one that kept me from doing it right then and there, was of my precious daughter. Would I have given up my five and a half years with her had I known what would happen? And maybe having an abortion would be selfish. I have to ask myself if I’d be doing it for myself or for the baby.

  I stare at my phone with the picture of Bass and me on the beach as my wallpaper. Why couldn’t it have been him?

  I know I need to make the call. I need to say the words. Get it over with. But I know it will wreck him as much as it has me. Can we even get through this?

  I dial the number.

  “Hello?”

  I break down in sobs. I can barely even breathe.

  “Ivy, is that you? What is it? Are you okay? Tell me.”

  “I … I’m p-pregnant, Eli.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Sebastian

  It’s not like Ivy to ignore my texts and calls. For two days now, I’ve been waiting on her to reach out to me. I was giving her some space because I know how hard it must be for her to be back in these surroundings and have all the memories she must be having.

  But two days?

  I push open the front door to The Greene Thumb and look around. Nobody is behind the counter, but I hear someone in the back.

  “Be right there!” someone shouts after hearing the bells over the door ring.

  It’s not Ivy’s voice. A second later, H
olly comes around the corner. When she sees me, her look says a thousand words. It’s the same look Aspen gave me when I said I loved her. It’s the same look Brooke’s dad gave me right before he said there wasn’t going to be a wedding.

  “What’s going on, Holly?” I ask.

  “I think you need to ask Ivy.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve been trying to?” I say. “I’ve been texting and calling her for days. What happened? Why isn’t she at work today? We had a great night the other night and then complete radio silence.”

  “Bass, you really need to talk to her. It’s not my place to say.”

  “How can I talk to her if she won’t take my calls?” I shake my head. “I don’t even know where she lives because the address she gave me when we were in Hawaii isn’t valid anymore since she moved in with you.”

  Holly grabs a note card off the counter and scribbles something on it. She hands it to me. “Here’s our address. She should be there now. The code at the bottom is for the front door of the building.”

  “Is she depressed?”

  “Bass,” she says, looking irritated.

  “Holly, I love her.”

  “I know you do. But you need to understand there is only so much loss a person can take. When you see her, please remember that.”

  “Loss? What loss?”

  “Just go see her.” She turns me around and pushes me toward the door.

  My mind is spinning, wondering what could be going on. Did she lose someone? Obviously not a family member or Holly would have been devastated as well. My walk turns into a jog and then I find myself practically sprinting to the address Holly wrote down for me.

  I have to punch the code in three times before the door unlocks, because each time I mess it up. I don’t bother with the elevator. I run up the three flights of stairs to the fourth floor. Then I stand at her door, catching my breath before I knock.