4. Ivy
4
IVY
Mariposa Market sat proudly on one of Main Street’s prized corners, opposite the square. It took its central position quite seriously, showing off its emerald green awning and wooden crates lining the front laden with brightly colored produce. The excess continued as I stepped inside, every available surface bursting with clusters of fruit, a selection of spices and chutneys or cellophane-wrapped baked goods.
It was owned by Marisol and Carmen, Dominican sisters who took great pride in expanding Starlight Grove’s palate and waistlines.
Carmen greeted me from her usual spot — the little raised table where she doled out free samples. Her neat braids were aptly formed in a crown on her head, her shimmering eyeshadow catching the light as she looked me over.
“Ivy! You and Felix! When’s the wedding?” she gushed effusively.
“He attacked me out of nowhere, Carmen,” I said exasperatedly, patting down my coat some more.
“Darling, that doesn’t sound like him. Don’t worry, I know what will make you feel better.” Carmen approached me, plate in hand. “Try some jalao.”
“Mmffhgh!”
Suddenly there was a honeyed, coconut confection in my mouth. It was almost too sugary, but the more I chewed the more I craved a second.
“Aisle four.” She swanned away, no doubt looking for more victims. “Thank me later!”
Giving an omega a single sweet was mean . I meandered down aisle four and tucked the tray of sugared candies under my arm. I seriously debated eating the whole thing during the ten minute drive to my parents’ place.
Not that I would actually do it. Turning up to dinner with a full stomach was far too rebellious.
I turned into the wine aisle and crashed directly into a solid, extremely large male chest.
“I’m so sorry!” I winced and held up my hands, shuffling away like an apologetic crab.
Logan Bennett bent down to pick up my candy. “Did Carmen make you get that?” he asked shortly.
“N-no. I wanted it,” I stammered, taking it back from him.
He grunted in reply. The language I was most familiar with from him. Logan was a silent, aloof grizzly bear of a man. He was Starlight Grove’s electrician and very good at his job — not so much with people. I think he preferred hiding. Hunching his shoulders in an attempt to minimize his size. The rugged growth of facial hair masked most of his features and he compulsively tugged his flannel shirt over his thick waistline.
Logan turned back to the wall of wine. He was standing in front of the one I wanted but I was too scared to ask him to move. I hovered instead, pretending I was examining bottles on another shelf.
A bitter scent hit me. I wrinkled my nose. Soured sap and hardened resin, murky and brittle on the bark of an old pine. Logan was tense, his alpha scent betraying him. My eyes drifted to the side and watched him run a harried hand through his hair.
I could feel my omega wanting to help. Responding instinctively to the stress pheromones he was exuding.
“Are you…having trouble picking one?” I asked tentatively.
Logan’s face clouded over. “Didn’t realize there were so many ways to bottle grape juice,” he muttered.
He reminded me of my students, lashing out from frustration when they felt lost.
“What’s the occasion tonight?” I kept my voice light and conversational.
Logan tugged at his beard. “Dad’s introducing his…girlfriend to me.”
There it was.
I had noticed Chester Bennett with an extra spring in his step around town. Suddenly taking lots of trips to neighboring Briar’s Landing. He deserved it. The alpha had raised a barely teenage Logan entirely on his own. Considering Logan was pushing forty now, it had been a long time coming.
Seeing the sharply dressed older man holding a bouquet of flowers ready to woo his lady love had almost made me weep.
A deep line appeared between Logan’s brows. “This is the happiest he’s been since Mom passed and I need to make a good impression.”
Oh. He was nervous because he thought he could somehow mess this up. Not because he didn’t approve.
I wanted to hug him around his middle. Squeeze him extra tight and tell him he was going to be wonderful and there was no need to worry.
Instead, I gestured at the gift he had tucked under his arm. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
He turned away from me, clearing his throat into his fist. “Trying to be…I guess.”
“Let me help,” I offered. I walked slowly down the aisle, surveying the labels. Logan hovered at my back.
Despite living in the same town our whole lives, I’d never been close enough to scent him properly before.
It was different to getting a flash when passing someone on the sidewalk. Logan’s tension was subsiding and with it the bitter edge to his scent. Slowly it invigorated. A pine forest rose up protectively around me, my breath dissipating in the frost-laden air.
It took me a moment to remember what I was supposed to be doing.
If you perfume, Carmen will never let you hear the end of it.
I pointed out a dark bottle with a burgundy capsule. “Well, you can’t go wrong with a great red with dinner. This winery is only a few hours from here.” My fingers trailed across and stopped at one wrapped in yellowed parchment. “But if you want something that feels a bit more important and fancy?—”
“Don’t make me try and pronounce extra French words in front of them,” Logan implored.
I didn’t laugh. It was a legitimate concern if you weren’t familiar with wine. I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “What are they serving tonight?”
“Dad’s showing off his lobster.”
Oh, that clinched it. I pulled a greenish bottle off the shelf, its label depicting a sprawling vista. “New Zealand sauvignon blanc. Sorry, I can’t avoid French entirely,” I apologized ruefully.
Logan took the bottle from me, staring down at it and then back up at me. “No, this is…thank you, Ivy,” he said quietly. “I’m…”
His eyes were the loveliest shade of forget-me-not blue.
“You’re nervous. It’s natural,” I said. Why did my hand itch to stroke through his burnished bronze hair? “I’m sure she’ll be equally as nervous wanting to make a good impression with you.”
He gave a little huff like the thought was preposterous. “I doubt it.”
“Well, I know for certain there’s one thing you’re both fans of.” I smiled. “Your father. Talking him up will definitely win you points.”
The faintest pink hue colored his cheeks. “I can do that. Thank you. Again.”
“Of course. Anytime.” I grabbed the red wine Logan passed on. Mom’s favorite and Dad was guaranteed to be cooking something that came from a cow.
Logan watched me, his face unreadable. “Have a good night, Ivy.”
The low timbre of his voice rippled down my spine. I blinked, shaking it off and returned his well wishes.
“You too.”
The usual garden gnomes lining the brick path to the door of my parents’ home had been swapped out for equally garish Christmas elves the moment the calendar flipped over to December 1st. I was sure Mom had something extravagant planned for the rest of the charming gray home that Dad would inevitably be roped into helping her pull off. She’d already hung a humongous wreath on the cherry red door, embellished with dried orange slices, red berries and cinnamon sticks she had tied on herself.
I pushed open the unlocked door and was immediately hit with the smell of a roast that had been cooking low and slow for hours. Teddy came bounding up to me, his nails clicking on the floorboards.
“Hello, you big dork,” I said, affectionately rubbing his floppy ears. Teddy’s expression was extra goofy as he sniffed me. “I know I smell like Felix but I haven’t got him stuffed in my pockets, I swear.”
Teddy ignored me and conducted a thorough search with his wet nose.
Mom’s head poked out from the kitchen and lit up.
“George! Ivy’s here! And she’s brought the Moonfall Valley merlot, bless her.”
I hung up my coat and fussed over my unruly windswept hair in the hallway mirror. Entering the kitchen was like being folded in a warm, nostalgic hug. I kissed both my parents on the cheek and went digging in the cupboards for wine glasses to add to the table.
“Try.”
Dad pressed a spoonful of gravy into my mouth. Why were people feeding me against my will today?
Not that I was mad about it but still…boundaries and all that.
“More salt?” Dad asked quizzically, looking at me over the top of his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Our blue eyes were twins, just as my dark mahogany hair was a match for Mom’s, though hers was streaked with a dignified gray now.
I smacked my lips thoughtfully. “Maybe just pepper, actually.”
He clicked his fingers and returned to the stove.
Mom was busy beautifying the dishes Dad had cooked — swirling the top of the mashed potatoes just right, a flutter of parsley over the brown sugared butternut squash.
“I can’t believe it’s almost winter break, Ivy.” Mom shook her head. “Golly this year has gone by fast!”
I risked stealing a green bean behind Dad’s back. “I know, it always creeps up on me,” I said, chewing rapidly. I thought about the updates to policy documents and assessment plans I still needed to make before next year.
Maybe I should do a version that factors in the grant money.
I nixed that idea almost immediately. Getting my hopes up would only make the disappointment even more crushing.
“Marisol told me she saw your car at the school today, Ivy Noelle,” Mom said warningly.
I only got middle-named when a lecture was about to come my way.
“Does Marisol have some sort of hidden camera network set up in this town?” I grumbled.
Mom ignored me. “You already give so much of your time to that school, going in early and staying late. You don’t need to give them your weekends too.”
I sighed. “I was only there because the Russells?—”
The crash of the front door opening was heralded by Teddy’s excited yowl.
“Teddy, at least buy me dinner first!”
My younger sister Caitlin blew in like a hurricane, shedding her coat, hat and various layers in piles over the furniture. She yanked at her hair tie, freeing her long brown hair with a vigorous shake.
She recoiled when she noticed the wine in my hand. “God, it was my turn to bring that, wasn’t it? Sorry Ivy.”
“It’s ok, I don’t mind.” I smiled. After we had gone wine-less the last few dinners, it seemed better to play it safe.
Caitlin hugged Mom hello as we took our seats at the table. “Sorry I’m a bit late, my car was making a funny noise so I thought I’d better drive a bit slower,” she said breezily.
Dad froze halfway through carving up the roast. “What kind of noise?”
“I dunno, like a—” Caitlin proceeded to make a sound that I could only describe as an angry cat fornicating with a clanking robot.
“Caitlin Georgie Winter.”
Oop, guess I wasn’t the only one getting middle-named.
“When was the last time you had it serviced?” Mom admonished her.
Caitlin made the exact face she used to make whenever she was about to lie about her grades.
“Please don’t say that time when I took it in for you before you moved out,” Dad said warningly.
“Ok, I won’t,” she said a little too quickly.
“ Caitlin .”
“Sorry. I’ll take it to Gavin’s garage straight away. Promise.”
Mom and Dad sighed in unison. I knew they wished Caitlin still lived at home so they could keep her wrapped up in cotton wool. She’d come to me quietly last year and asked for advice on moving out. With my help, she avoided three rental scams and she now lived in Briar’s Landing with roommates. When she wasn’t making the most of her twenties, she worked as a hostess at a local upmarket seafood restaurant.
“How’s work?” I asked her.
Caitlin gasped sharply, her eyes alight with excitement. “Want some goss, Ivy?” she asked with a suggestive raise of her brows.
“Sure,” I agreed cautiously.
Caitlin and I’s idea of gossip was very different. I wanted to know who stuck ‘HONK IF YOU LOVE CAKE’ signs in Stanley’s front yard and Caitlin…
“Sean came in with his wife the other day. They ended up arguing and left before dessert. Sounds like he’s having some regrets, Ivy,” she said gleefully.
“Oh.” I couldn’t even force any enthusiasm.
“Oh? Ivy, I thought you’d be glad to know your douchebag alpha ex is realizing he got the short end of the stick.” Caitlin waved her fork at me, the limp green bean in danger of flying off. “Isn’t that like, I dunno, omega crack for you?”
I knew Caitlin thought she meant well. As the only omega in a family of betas, my designation was a conundrum they never quite understood. Not that they didn’t try. Mom and I waded through an agonizingly awkward conversation about omega heats and alpha ruts right after I presented at eighteen. I don’t think I would ever wipe the memory of her explaining that one day I would not only crave group sex but require it for my health.
We mutually and silently agreed on rug-sweeping after that.
My knowledge of pack life subsequently came from books, movies and gawking at the few who had made their home in Starlight Grove. Several alphas, sometimes a beta or two, all focused on an omega like spokes on a wheel.
The idea of finding one boyfriend was already far-fetched, so several was incomprehensible. Maybe that’s why I was so quick to accept Sean’s offer of courtship when I was twenty-three. He was an alpha who had also grown up in Starlight Grove. He professed to have waited for me while I ‘did my college thing’ and I was relieved that life had presented me with an option so easily on a platter.
But it was also my first year teaching and I threw myself into doing the best job possible. I guess I could understand why Mom chastised me for going in early and staying late because that’s exactly what I did.
Sean didn’t really understand why I couldn’t just turn up and then leave when the bell rang. Resentment grew and he eventually broke up with me, marrying a beta woman from Briar’s Landing and moving there to start a family with her.
I couldn’t even blame him. I felt like I was waiting our entire relationship for my fabled omega instincts to kick in and show me what I was supposed to do. But as my twenties passed by, it became clear that I was not wired that way. Now here I was at thirty-one, no closer to finding an alpha, let alone a pack. No closer to experiencing that all-consuming, head-in-the-clouds kind of love.
Tick tock, went that biological clock. I would be on suppressants forever and never experience a proper heat at this rate. Sean did ask me to go off them, of course, but there never seemed like a good time. Now I was on the merry path to spinsterhood one daily pill at a time.
But thanks to my bleak love life, I’d watched hundreds of kids in my classroom discover what made them spark. If that was my legacy, then so be it.
I let Caitlin’s comment about my designation slide and took a little longer than I needed to chew my mouthful.
Later as I helped mom wash up in the kitchen, she enfolded me in a side hug, her cheek resting on my hair.
“Do you know how many parents come up and tell me how wonderful you are with their children? It’s a relief that all I worry about with you is that you’re too good at your job,” she laughed lightly, giving my arm a squeeze. “Caitlin struggles a little more to find her way than you ever did. I’m glad that you’re doing so well.”
I don’t know if that’s true.
I pushed the thought aside and returned her smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
I returned to scrubbing a particularly stubborn bit of grease and never did end up telling Mom and Dad about my fish tank.