Chapter Eight
Ivy
In an unexpected turn of events, Jace and I spent time with each other at the Christmas Village a few days ago, and somehow, I survived.
When I showed up and discovered that I’d been tricked, I tried to leave, but the crowd (and Ollie and Gladys) forced us together.
It turns out that it was an opportunity to talk to the man I once knew, but the experience might as well have been walking through a metaphorical graveyard that refused to revive the man I once knew.
It’s not like we waited for each other. We had one impromptu date that I’ve thought about for the past eight years, but now he’s all rough edges where once he seemed so smooth. The shock that he was and is still single rattles my heart.
I’ve thought of him. I pictured him married and raising kids.
It turns out that at least part of what I imagined is true.
His daughter is the most adorable little girl I’ve ever taught.
When she joined my class, I felt that same sense of knowing each other before we even met that I felt with Jace. My heart wishes I knew the reason.
And now, tonight is Birch Borough’s Christmas Parade.
As the end of November merges into December, our town enters a season of event after event to celebrate the holiday spirit.
I love it; I really do. But I’m just not sure I’m in the mood to see Liam dressed as Buddy the Elf and his social-media famous cat, A-cat-pella, on a float, followed by Mayor Brooks in a Santa suit riding on top of a Wicked Good Farms pickup truck.
If we’re lucky, some of the local high school kids will launch snowflake confetti into the air out of miniature cannons to mark the official start of the season. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of it.
I tap my boot on the sidewalk, focusing on the unlit LED snowflakes that have been strung across the street. Their clear structure sticks out against the milky grey sky. With a shiver, I wrap my coat more tightly around my waist, waiting for Grey as I wrestle with my thoughts.
This year, not only has Jace been on my mind ever since he showed up at my dance studio, but all I can think about is how much I still need someone to help me with my Christmas ballet production.
The start of this season of spirited events just means that we’re that much closer to our performances, and I still don’t have a set or a backdrop for our condensed version of The Nutcracker and a holiday special.
When I took over the studio, instead of putting on a whole big production of the famous ballet, I decided to take a few of the famous numbers, make them my own, and then add in a few festive pieces to round it out.
That way, I ensured every one of my students could get involved and feel like they matter to our success without the pressure of competing with every other nearby studio and company who also perform the celebrated ballet.
In addition, I also knew I could never achieve the level of performance I’ve done in cities across the world on my own. And besides the few people who have volunteered to help with setup, I’ve pretty much been on my own as the town’s resident dance teacher.
But since Andy from Fixin’s Hardware Store fell off a ladder a few weeks ago (thankfully, he only sprained his ankle and his pride), my go-to set designer is out of commission.
I don’t know how to do the production this year without him, and everyone else in town has been signed up since last year with their own respective holiday duties.
I could seek out help from someone in a surrounding town, but that feels like sacrilege, considering this is a Birch Borough event.
For town events, we don’t bring in outside assistance. Our general sentiment is Why would we?
“Ivy!”
I hear a masculine voice behind me, the single word cutting through the wind.
When I turn, Edgar is walking toward me.
He’s nearly running to catch up with me even though I am standing still.
I’m guessing he always moves as if he’s approaching a finish line.
We’ve never become close friends since he moved to town, but we’ve been friendly.
Edgar is a nice guy. We don’t see him as often as his sister.
But as he approaches, I feel the flush creeping up my neck because I can’t believe I didn’t see the similarities between him and Jace before.
In the past, when Edgar mentioned a brother, it was always an abstract reference.
Now that I know his brother is Jace, all the times he talked of a brother feel like I’ve been living in a dream, a whole series of unknown events orchestrating me back to that one night.
One night that ended up being a dream turned nightmare that I can’t seem to escape from.
“Do you need me for something, Edgar?” I ask, finding my voice. I want to try to end this conversation before it has even started.
“Yeah,” he says. “I just wanted to say that I found someone who could help you with your production. I was going to volunteer, but I think I’d do more harm than good . . .”
At the look of possibility on his face, I will him not to say what I think is coming.
“But Jace can build anything,” he continues.
My heart sinks. And there it is. I look at the bunches of snow hovering near our feet. There’s no chance I will recruit Jace to help me, no matter how desperate I am for my sets to be built before our production. “That’s very kind of you to try to help me,” I begin.
Edgar’s brow furrows at my hesitation, a line between his eyes appearing. “He really is good. I can have him send some samples or photos or something?”
I cringe, partially because I do need the help, and I’d do anything for my students.
The other part of the cringe is because, for once, I don’t know how to gracefully get out of this one.
He’s clearly not aware of the tension between Jace and me.
And if Edgar doesn’t know that Jace and I connected years ago, that doesn’t bode well for having a lasting impact on his life.
After all, I couldn’t wait to tell Grey and my family after I had the best date of my life.
“I appreciate the thought, Edgar. I do. But . . .” My words trail off as I see Jace leave Angie’s pie shop, a box of one of her delectable pies in hand. His other hand is holding Emmy’s tiny mittened one. She catches sight of me with her uncle across the street.
“Miss Ivy!” Emmy’s voice rings out through the night, causing a few people to chuckle nearby. If only I could fuel this night with her energy. “Miss Ivy!” she yells again, her little frame pulling Jace toward us, even though I know that’s impossible, given his strength.
The fact that he follows her means he’s either in shock at seeing me again so soon or is content to follow Emmy’s will. I fold over to get to eye level with Emmy as they cross the street, willing my gaze not to sneak its way toward Jace.
“Are you ready for the parade tonight, Emmy?” I’m proud of the way I was able to get the words out.
Focus, Ivy. It’s not Emmy’s fault that her dad doesn’t want to be around me.
The little girl practically squeals and turns toward the line of townspeople gathering along the streets, all of us waiting for the mayor to announce the parade’s start.
“Bro,” Edgar announces while patting Jace’s back in that semi-affectionate hug that only men seem to get away with.
“Eddie,” resounds the gritty voice that I’ve been dreaming about for only the past eight years and eighteen hours.
Over the course of my life, I’ve received hundreds of comments on my own voice—its smokiness and tone—but if I could choose one male voice to narrate the story of my life or just the directions on my phone, I’d choose his.
Hearing it now, even after all these years, even after all that’s transpired, it makes me want to dance and stand still simultaneously. I’m restless and calm all at once.
“Dude, you know you can’t call me that.”
“I can and I will,” Jace retorts.
I hold back a silent laugh at the look of indignation that flashes across Edgar’s face. Sneaking a look at Jace, I catch a grin hitching up one side of his still-moody mouth. The sight of it nearly makes me dizzy.
“Listen, Ivy needs some help . . .” Edgar starts, and my mind goes blank.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. “Really, it’s fine. I’m fine.” The lie feels salty on my tongue.
“You have someone else?” Edgar asks quickly.
“Well, not exactly, but there are some . . . prospects.” The last word causes me to wince.
It’s what my parents call the men they try to set me up with when a new guest stays at the inn and recommends their son or grandson.
If I had a fish bowl of all the business cards that I’ve gotten from my parents with the numbers of strange men on them, it would be overflowing.
I’m convinced they have a picture of me hidden near their front desk that they whip out to show anyone eligible visiting Birch Borough.
It’s the stuff of romance, their matchmaking skills.
Jace’s eyebrow lifts in my peripheral vision. Suddenly, we’re in a battle of wills. I’m determined not to look at him again, but I can feel that his gaze doesn’t leave my face, the fire from his eyes like a laser beam burning up my cheeks and bringing a flush of heat to my bones.
“What exactly does she need?” Jace asks, the question clearly directed to his brother as I become a third person in this sentence structure. I don’t know what metaverse we’ve entered, but it’s clear we’re trying to draw lines in the sand while the tide is coming in. It’s impossible and messy.
“Sets. For her Christmas show. Her contractor was in an accident.”
I focus on Edgar, hoping he doesn’t wonder why I’m only staring at him and Emmy and not looking at his brother. But I just can’t give in to the desire.
“Miss Ivy, my daddy builds things! Don’t you, Daddy?”