Twenty-Eight—Ivy
T
he power of suggestion: my grandmother had made it an art form. But she would tell you that the secret to her mysticism is no secret at all—it’s grounded in predictable human response. Bullies live to bully, and they cannot handle being outsmarted, especially when they don’t even know it’s happening. Geneva has always told me never to underestimate the power of intense eye contact, or the intimidation you can impose by stepping uninvited into someone’s personal space. She insists these tools are available to everyone, even if few utilize them with her proficiency. My grandmother was able to get close to Peter Diamond because she posed no perceived threat to him, and, of course, she wore the presumed irrelevance of an old woman, which she always said was her secret weapon. Naturally, it didn’t hurt that her roadmap of a face and the crag in her ancient voice had spell-casting powers of their own. Nope. Geneva Talbot was her own perfect storm that had left Peter Diamond almost certain that cardiac arrest was an imminent threat. And goodness, it would have been so much simpler had it been true! Sadly, my granny’s actual abilities are quite limited, convincing though they may be.
“Bo, is your sister here?” Geneva asked again.
“Ummm, yeah.” Bo, said, seeming unsure.
“I’ll get her,” Eileen said, looking like she was on the cusp of breaking down.
Mia stepped up to her father and wrapped him in a hug. “You, okay, Dad? ”
Jack was looking at my grandmother with his mouth slightly agape. “I’m fine, honey. Geneva, what just happened? I don’t know how to thank you. That was about to get very ugly,” he said.
“Yes, it was,” Gran agreed. “He’s clearly a very dangerous man.”
I felt Bo’s eyes on me and walked over to him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded and continued to stare at me. “I think so. Never a dull moment around here,” he said. “I like your hair.”
I’d forgotten about my hair. “Do you?” I said touching it. “It’s a bit drastic.”
“No, it looks good. You look good. You look… really good .”
I was about to be ridiculously self-conscious when Camille and her mother walked into the room. They were each holding a little girl who’d been crying. The littlest one was in a cast, and I swallowed my surprise. “Where have they been?” I asked Bo under my breath.
“In their car, in the dark garage. This day’s been hell.”
“Maybe we should leave,” said Mama to my grandmother—she looked uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure I agreed, but that may have been just because I felt better with them right where they were. Geneva nodded but seemed reluctant. Camille set Scout on the sofa and walked over to my family. She looked tired and unkempt and undone, and I wanted to cry for her. I wanted to cry for everyone. She put her arms around Geneva like she’d known her forever.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “Sounds like you said all the right things to make Peter leave. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
Geneva leaned in and studied Camille. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. He’ll be back. Probably not tonight, but he’ll be back, and I can’t be here.” She looked over at her mother, who was snuggling a little one. When she again saw the cast on her daughter’s arm, Camille’s breath got jagged, and my heart broke for her.
My grandmother looked around, and I followed the trail of her gaze. There was Jack, looking older and smaller than he had two nights ago—helpless anger etched in lines around his eyes. Eileen looking beat up, like the day had pushed her down the stairs. She never took her eyes off Camille. And Camille, whose prettiness had been stripped away along with the meat of what I could only assume was her Suttonness , having seen it in everyone else in her family. She now stood there reduced to a woman I’m sure she never intended to be.
“I’m very sorry for what has happened to you,” my grandmother said to her. “To all of you,” she then said to everyone. “This is an untenable situation.”
Camille nodded and started to cry.
Geneva took her hands. “This might sound completely crazy, but have you ever been to Savannah, my dear?”
Camille sniffed. “What? Georgia? No, why?”
“I’m just going to throw this out there as an option. I live in a lovely area called Isle of Hope—it’s just southeast of Savannah. I have a small home on my property—a guest cottage that I keep for friends. You’re welcome to use it until you decide what to do.”
Eileen let go of a little sob.
“I don’t understand,” Camille said. “Come to Georgia?”
My grandmother looked hard at her. “You don’t know me; it probably sounds like the strangest offer in the world. But you and your girls will be safe there. I’ll see to it.”
Camille swallowed and then broke down.
“Oh, Mrs. Talbot…” Eileen breathed.
“It would be perfect,” Bree added, nodding her head. “There are less than three thousand people on the island. If your husband is not familiar with Georgia, he’d probably never find you, because he’d never find it .”
“That’s true,” I said. “It’s very quiet. Very pretty. And my grandmother would take good care of you. That’s what she does.” I nodded at Mia’s mama, who suddenly looked very overcome. “And your little sugar plums would love it there.”
Camille’s mouth had fallen open. “Why? Why would you do that for me? ”
Geneva eyed her. “Because you’ve been placed in my path, and you’re wounded. What kind of woman would I be if I didn’t offer to help you?”
“I don’t…Who does that? Who just opens their life and lets a stranger walk in?”
“Mia,” I blurted. “In case you didn’t notice, she did the same thing for me.”
“I did?” Mia said. “Oh, I guess I did.”
“Y’all did,” I said, shrugging, meeting Jack’s eyes.
Geneva smiled. “And we can’t thank you enough. So, let us repay your kindness. The Universe always knows what needs to happen, and then she just hopes someone is paying attention. I guess we’re just paying attention.”
“Oh, my goodness,” rasped Eileen, holding her throat. “I don’t know what to say.” Then to Camille. “Honey, what do you think?” Camille broke down then, and Eileen took my grandmother’s hand. “We’ve been at a loss all day trying to come up with some way to keep her safe.”
“Well, the offer is there,” Geneva said. “Bree, what time is our flight?”
“11:40 in morning,” Mama said. “I’ll text Ivy the flight number when I get back to the hotel.”
“11:40.” Geneva nodded. “Why don’t you just discuss it and let us know what you decide,” she said to Camille. Then she made the rounds, first hugging Jack, who was very emotional in his appreciation. Eileen seemed to melt inside my grandmother’s embrace. Geneva cupped her chin. “If they come, I’ll take good care of them. And you are more than welcome to join them. Now or later. Whatever you think is best.”
Eileen couldn’t speak, but she nodded, tears rolling down her face.
When she got to Bo, she smiled and gently touched his arm. “Well, sir, it seems clear to me that you did everything just right today. Well done. ”
“Thanks, Geneva,” he said shakily. “I appreciate that.” They shared a smile that held a touch of conspiracy. Then my grandmother turned to my mom. “Ready, Bree?”
“I think so.” Mama looked at me with soft eyes. “I guess this is it, Ivy,” she said. She hugged me hard, and when she pulled back, I could see we were almost, but not quite, back to us —if we’d had just a bit more time, all the harsh words would have been erased and forgotten. But her smile was the tiniest bit stiff as she pressed an envelope into my hand. “I love you, Ivy,” she whispered. “You know I do…”
“I love you, too, Mama.” Assuming it was money, I stuffed the gift into my pocket.
Then Geneva was there enfolding me, squeezing the breath out of me, kissing my face. “Oh, my sweet girl!” she sang. “It was so lovely to spend time with you. Take care of yourself.”
“I will, Gran.”
“You are my heart.”
“I love you too, Gran.”