Their Small-Town Love Page 4

  She sent an elbow to his ribs, just hard enough to make him laugh. “Basically, the same way I wound up here with you,” she retorted. “Now, enough about me. We were talking about Charlotte and Tyler Aldrich.”

  “Right. Charlotte and Ty and how they got together.” Ryan cleared his throat of his laughter. “Simple really. Ty got stranded here overnight back in the fall. One night became a week. Later, his visits pretty much became dates. The next thing we knew, they couldn’t live without each other. You know how it goes. Now they’re building a big new house here and hoping that our grandfather, Hap, will move in with them once it’s finished.”

  “Is that likely?”

  Ryan sucked in a deep breath, mentally shifting gears. “I’m not sure he’ll have any other choice in the end. He’s almost eighty-one, and his arthritis isn’t going to get any better. If not for Cara, he couldn’t manage the motel now.”

  “And if she has a new baby, she won’t be able to help out,” Ivy concluded.

  “Exactly. I can’t see Holt letting her continue much longer in any event,” Ryan mused aloud. “Quite the protector, our Holt. Can’t say I blame him, though. It’s physically demanding work, and as you know, Cara’s a little thing.”

  “What will happen to the motel if your grandfather gives it up?” Ivy asked.

  “Ty and Charlotte have a young Hispanic couple they’d like to bring in to take over, with an eye maybe to buying the place. Makes sense when you think about it. None of us is going to take on the place. But, as I said, it’s Hap’s decision.”

  “Will he be unreasonable?”

  “No, I don’t think so. That’s not Granddad. In the end, I think he’ll give it up for the great-grandbabies.”

  “Babies? Plural?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Holt and Cara make no secret of their intentions, and Charlotte and Ty will start a family eventually, I’m sure. Probably sooner rather than later. And there’s Ace, already.”

  “Hap accepts him as part of the family?”

  “Of course. We all do.”

  Ivy turned a look up at him that seemed part hope and part doubt. “Just like that?”

  Ryan chuckled. “You obviously haven’t met my nephew yet. He’s quite the little charmer.”

  “Actually,” Ivy said, ducking her head, “I think I have. He seems to have that confidence peculiar to children who are greatly loved.”

  “You bet. That’s what babies are for, isn’t it? Loving?”

  She didn’t answer that. After a moment, Ryan felt compelled to ask, “What about you? You interested in having children some day?”

  Ivy tucked her chin to her chest. “I don’t think I’m meant for that.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” he said, needing, for some reason, to validate her choice.

  Her head popped up. “Really? You don’t want a family of your own?” She sounded affronted, yet she’d just basically said the same thing, hadn’t she?

  “The way I look at it,” Ryan explained carefully, “I already have a family, a suddenly growing family, and of course I have my students.”

  “They must mean a lot to you.”

  He smiled. “Can’t seem to help it. You might even say the thing’s gotten a bit out of hand. Some of them really need an adult to just listen.”

  Ivy tilted her head, the sleek curtain of her long dark hair sweeping across her shoulder blades. “Is that enough for you? Listening to other people’s kids?”

  Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Well…my job and my family keep me very busy, and…” He rubbed a hand over his face before abruptly deciding to give in to the impulse to say what he had never said to anyone else. “You probably remember what happened when my dad died.”

  “Your mom’s suicide,” Ivy whispered, nodding.

  “Marriage seems like a really big risk to me,” he admitted.

  “I used to think so, too.”

  “Not anymore?”

  She pondered that before shrugging. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Love is risky, no doubt about it, but family…” She looked up at him with wide, pain-filled eyes. “Family is worth very nearly everything.”

  She had a point there, Ryan admitted silently. He would risk much for his family, not just Hap and Holt and Charlotte, but for his brother-in-law and sister-in-law and nephew, too. What would he risk for a wife and child of his own? He was almost afraid to find out.

  “Quite a crowd this year,” Ryan remarked softly, looking around at the people already spread over the gently rolling landscape.

  Ivy nodded in agreement. There were more people present than she remembered from years past, but it had been so long that she had no idea if this had become the norm.

  The simple service of yesteryear had obviously given way to a more sophisticated approach. She noticed an outdoor sound system tucked into inconspicuous places, and flickering patio torches had been placed at intervals to mark the space from which the service would be conducted. Atop the hill behind that space, in increasingly stark silhouette, stood three crosses temporarily erected for the service. Around the topmost section of the center cross hung a crown fashioned of thorny vines.

  In the center of the marked-off space stood a large rock, across which a length of purple fabric and several long-stemmed lilies had been arranged in artful abandon. This apparently served as a makeshift altar as two men knelt next to it in fervent prayer. One of them she recognized as Grover Waller, the middle-aged pastor of First Church, a little older and rounder and with thinner hair, but the same pastor nonetheless. The other was a younger man Ivy did not know. At her whispered query, Ryan informed her that his name was Davis Latimer, the new minister of the church on Magnolia. He, along with his congregation, had been invited to participate in this earliest Easter morning service.

  Ivy felt a chill. Glancing around, she wondered if her father might be in attendance. She looked down, telling herself that if he saw her he would surely avoid her. Perhaps it would be best if he did see her. It would spare Rose the awkwardness of having to inform him of her visit.

  A reverent hush enveloped the ever-growing crowd, some of whom stood or crouched. Others had possessed the foresight to bring along lawn chairs, while still others simply sat or knelt on the ground.

  “I should have thought to bring something to sit on,” Ryan told her apologetically, leaning close.

  Ivy gripped the sides of her wrap and held them out. “This will do.”

  “Won’t you be chilled without it?”

  “We’ll find a sheltered spot that blocks the breeze.”

  “Let’s try over here,” he suggested, taking her hand to lead her down the gentle slope a little way to a cluster of boxy shrubs. Ivy spread the paisley shawl on the ground in front of the shrubs and sat, folding her legs back to one side. Ryan followed suit, scooting close to offer her the warmth of his large, muscular body, one palm braced flat on the ground behind her. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the gradual lightening of the sky, before the pastors stood, Bibles in hand, and took up positions in front of the makeshift altar. Utter stillness descended, then Grover opened his Bible and in a clear but gentle voice began to read the prayer of Jesus from the seventeenth chapter of John. The other man picked up with the eighteenth and nineteenth chapters, telling about the betrayal and arrest of Christ, which included the Apostle John’s moving account of the crucifixion, before Grover began the twentieth.

  “Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb….”

  The pastor went on as the sun rose over the hilltop behind him, its golden rays seeming to reach out to all the world. He read how the risen Savior showed Himself to His astonished, jubilant followers and became the Light that pierces the darkness. Finally, Grover closed his Bible and stepped forward to speak.

  “Mocked, stripped, scourged until His
flesh hung in strips and, finally, in the company of murderers and thieves, nailed by the hands and feet to a cross,” the preacher began. “That is the picture that His enemies would have had you remember, but they did not recognize what was really happening, what they themselves were a part of. They did not see a willing sacrifice, a life laid down in recompense for the sins of humanity or a love so great that it could allow such a thing. And they were not there when Christ took up His earthly form once more and stood among His beloved, proving Himself to be the Son of God, worthy and perfect in every way. So today, as we, His children, bask in the radiance of His resurrection, grow in the glow of His love and rejoice in the light of the forgiveness and grace with which He gifted us, let us praise Him.”

  Lifting their hands, the pastors began to pray, one after the other praising and thanking God with simple eloquence and humble gratitude. At the end, they spoke a gentle “Amen” together, which the congregation echoed. Then a woman whom Ivy recognized as former classmate Becca Inman stood in the midst of the crowd and began to sing a well-known Easter hymn in a clear, beautiful voice. Others began to join in, coming to their feet as they did so. With the song gaining in volume, Ivy, with Ryan at her side, also rose.

  She did not realize that tears streamed down her face until Ryan pressed a clean linen handkerchief into her hand. With her thoughts elsewhere, she barely managed a smile for him. Instead, she envisioned that glorious day of resurrection. That miraculous event proved the sacrificial intent of the crucifixion, but for so long Ivy had ignored it, seeing it as just one more improbable, two-thousand-year-old story that had nothing to do with her own life today.

  Ivy knew now what a fool she had been. She’d looked at her father, a man who had always gone to church, and seen the bitterness that had marked his life. She’d wanted no part of that, and somehow that bitterness had equated with church in her mind, and church had equated with Christ. Only when she’d been introduced to her Savior and surrendered her life to Him had the stories of Easter become dear to her, more dear than all she had given up to follow her Lord.

  She had found forgiveness and a new beginning by surrendering her heart and soul to Jesus Christ. In many ways, she felt resurrected herself. But sin, as she had learned, still has consequences. She understood that, like everyone else, she lived with the consequences of her choices in the here and now. Thankfully, she could trust God to give her everything she needed to cope with those consequences. He would help her stop making the mistakes that had so devastated her life.

  Ivy closed her eyes and claimed that promise again now. Dear Lord, show me how to live to please You, and help me make up for all I’ve done. Help me mend what I’ve broken and ease the pain I’ve caused. Help me endure the anguish I’ve caused myself and find some measure of peace. Most of all, show me Your will for my life, and help me to live it. Thank You for Your Son and His sacrifice. Thank You for Your forgiveness and for choosing to see me through Him. Amen.

  She felt a moment, an instant, of that longed-for peace. Then, suddenly, there came a shift in the atmosphere, a literal tightening of the air around her, like the moment before a lightning strike. Ivy opened her eyes to encounter the angry visage of her father. Stunned, she could do no more than stare back at first.

  He looked worn and tired, far older than his fifty-four years. The skin of his long, narrow face drooped in loose wrinkles, while gray streaks roughened the thatch of his light brown hair and liberally salted his bushy eyebrows, giving him the hangdog expression of a man who had seen and lost too much. As her heart lurched into her throat, Ivy’s conscience cried out, I did that to him! Thankfully, the words did not make it to her mouth. Ryan spoke first.

  “Hello, Olie. I was just telling Ivy last night how long it’s been since I saw you.”

  Her father ignored Ryan, his icy, gray glare burning into her like the flames of the still-flickering torches. Ivy glanced around, realized that the service had ended and took a tentative step closer, saying urgently, “Dad, I—I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Me?” he mocked. “You didn’t expect to see me here?” He stabbed a finger at the ground, declaring, “This is my home, girl, not yours, not anymore. I thought I made that plain when you showed up the last time!”

  “Dad, please,” she begged softly, all too aware of Ryan standing there. “That was a long time ago. I know I disappointed you. I disappointed myself, and I’ve paid a heavy price for it. Can’t we at least talk about it?”

  “Talk?” he scoffed. “Not likely.”

  “I just want to tell you how sorry I am, Daddy.”

  “Don’t call me that! I’m not your daddy. No tramp like you will ever be a daughter of mine.”

  “Olie!” Ryan exclaimed, his tone that of the scolding assistant principal.

  “You don’t know the truth about her,” Olie told him roughly. “No one does, because I’ve kept her secrets.” He shook a finger at her. “But only so long as she stayed away. Now she’s here, the truth will finally come out, and the truth is she sleeps with a man she never married and makes her living spreading filth. She even got herself—”

  “Please don’t!” Ivy cried, interrupting him before he could spew the worst of it. “Please! I’ve changed.”

  “Change?” Olie ridiculed. “It’s too late for change! Just go slither back under your rock and leave us be!”

  Ivy couldn’t bear anymore. Clutching Ryan’s arm, she stammered an incoherent apology.

  “S-So sorry. I—I never thought he’d be here. Excuse me! I—I need…” She took off at a run, fresh tears streaming down her face.

  Behind her, she heard Ryan speaking in his stern, assistant principal’s voice, but she didn’t even try to register the words. What did it matter anyway? What did any of it matter? Her father would never forgive her, never let her forget, even for a moment, what she’d done. As if she could!

  Ignoring the curious stares of others, she hurried away, wanting only to reach the privacy of her room, where she could pour out her heart to God and see if she could recapture even a glimmer of the peace she so desperately wanted.

  Chapter Four

  Ryan parked his hands at his waist, watching in shock as Ivy fled the park in tears. Turning back to the author of this ugly public scene, he pinned Olie Villard in place with a glare before stepping close to growl, “Good grief, man! What’s wrong with you?”

  Even slightly cowed, Olie remained unrepentant, sticking out his long, narrow chin at a pugnacious angle. “She’s what’s wrong with me, Ivy and her filthy ways. Like mother, like daughter, I tell you, and if you’re smart you’ll keep your distance from her!” Swinging his lanky frame around, he stalked away, his hands fisted at his sides.

  Sighing, Ryan cast a wary glance over the area, wondering who might have overheard. He saw several curious onlookers but turned aside their attention with a level gaze and pointed smile before bending to sweep up the shawl that Ivy had left behind in her haste. He shook out the thing, telling himself that he would return it. Frowning, he considered Olie’s unpleasant words and Ivy’s tearful response.

  She hadn’t exactly denied her father’s accusations or, in all fairness, admitted to them. Still, at this point, Ryan could not escape the unhappy conclusion that Ivy had made some big mistakes in her life.

  He was not one to judge; he’d made his own blunders. After the deaths of his parents, Ryan had figured that he had no reason to live an exemplary life. Why should he live his life, according to the godly rules and ethics taught him by his father and grandparents? What good had it done his dad?

  His mother had always been rather fragile. The only child of a doting, widowed, older father, she’d been too well protected in many ways and more than a little self-centered. When her husband had died so unexpectedly in a freak accident on the job, her chief concern had been who would take care of her with him gone? No one had realized until it was too late, that in her grief and panic, she would swallow every prescription pill she could find.
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  As a college student separated from his remaining family by just enough distance to guarantee no interference from them, Ryan had buried his grief and anger with months of partying. He had told himself at the time that it was nothing more than a rite of passage. Only after returning home for the summer and reconnecting with his older brother, younger sister and paternal grandparents did he find enough peace to reclaim God’s purpose for his life.

  The rest of the family had been struggling, too, but together they had all managed to put the dual tragedy behind them. In helping to assuage their pain, Ryan had found balm for his own. The steady, sturdy love of his family had given him strength and direction, and their wise counsel had helped him find his calling. He’d learned to value the integrity of his own soul above gold or anything else the world had to offer.

  He knew too well how easily rebellion could be justified by a spirit blinded with grief or rage or the lure of worldly things, so he would not judge Ivy. Getting caught up in a public family feud made him distinctly uncomfortable, and he certainly wasn’t ready to upset the order of his life, no matter how drawn he felt to the beautiful woman Ivy had become. Still, he could not help wanting to protect Ivy from her father’s anger.

  He would return the shawl, but perhaps, Ryan decided, it would be best to give Ivy some time alone. Maybe, in the meantime, he could figure out the best way to deal with this mess. Her wrap in hand, he trudged back to the motel to seek the counsel of his family. So much for his intention to keep them in the dark concerning his date, if that was the word for it, with Ivy this morning. Along the way back to the motel, he prayed for guidance, knowing that if he was not very careful he could find himself more involved than seemed wise for a man who had never been comfortable with the idea of trusting his heart to any woman.

  “I admit I heard some talk about Ivy,” Hap Jefford said in his gravelly voice, “and I been concerned for some time now ’bout Olie.”

  Dropping down into his usual chair at one end of the oval maple dining table in the apartment behind the lobby of the motel, Hap bent and began the process of lacing up his boots with fingers gnarled by age and arthritis.