Chapter Nine #2
Her eyes drift to the inn behind me. When I turn to look over my shoulder, a couple is staring out of one of the windows. They are waving, and a grandmotherly woman beside them is giving a thumbs-up.
“Do you know those people?”
“Yes,” Ivy says with a laugh and a half-wave in their direction. “That’s my family. Well, some of them. My parents and grandmother. They own the inn.”
“Ah, I see. I didn’t know that.”
“Well, we’ve never had a chance to talk much about each other’s lives.” Her words could sound harsh, but instead, they’re laced with sadness.
I stare at her as Resin leans against my leg. “No, we didn’t.” My voice is equally sad.
“So, Emmy is a trip.” Ivy’s eyes brighten when she mentions my daughter.
I hum. “Yes, she is. Big heart. Lots of dreams.” I force myself to say something nice to the unique woman in front of me, something that will test the tension between us. “Thank you for teaching her to dance.”
“It’s my job.”
“Yes, but I know it could be challenging since she’s my kid. I don’t mean that arrogantly. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”
“Please, don’t say that.” Quickly, her face whips toward me, eyes more fiery than I’ve ever seen them.
“I don’t want my presence in Birch Borough to bother you—”
“It doesn’t. At least, not in the way you’re implying.” Ivy’s sigh cracks a part of my heart open. “So, Emmy? Dancing is important to her?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, she—she stopped dancing about a year ago. She asked about her mother one day, and she just . . . stopped.”
Her eyes widen.
I continue, “And I—I just wanted to see her dance again. Needed to, I think. And yours is the only dance studio in town.”
“Not to mention the best one in the county.” Ivy’s voice is quiet. “I’m sorry Emmy has experienced so much loss.”
Blinking rapidly, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from pouring out the truth of every other part of our lives that has tanked since I last saw Ivy. There have been good things too, but it’s the loss that stands out.
Ivy leans in slightly, and I’m pulled to her like a magnetic energy still lives between us. “So, you need help building your sets. Why?”
She looks alarmed at first. Ivy’s shoulders lift in a delicate shrug, but then she straightens her spine in a way that makes me proud. She’s a fighter, this one. And I respect her for her bravery.
“The guy who always helps me accidentally injured himself, and everyone else is pretty much booked. It’s an unspoken rule around here that we don’t get people outside of town to help, but we’re only weeks away from the performance.”
“When is it?”
“It runs right after Christmas, before New Year’s,” she replies. “We’ve found a greater turnout when all the families are in town. If I don’t have the sets ready in time . . .” She pauses abruptly, softly clearing her throat.
“Makes sense.” I pause, watching as Ivy focuses on a distant tree dusted with snow. “What else?”
“What do you mean, ‘what else’?” The narrowing of her eyes assures me I’m right to pull at this thread.
“There’s more to this. I can tell it’s important to you. Before we freeze out here, I’d like to know why.”
Ivy shakes her head, and there’s a hint of a chatter in her jaw.
It’s the New England marvel where you see and feel the sun but still can’t get warm with the temperature this frigid.
“Scholarships are at stake with this performance. Birch Borough is pretty well off as far as towns go. Still, I have so many students who may have what they need to survive daily, but the extra income for dance just isn’t there.
And I know it’s helped me tremendously to move through life.
The end-of-year performance is when most of our donations for the whole year come in. I can’t let my students down.”
Resin tugs her in the direction of the smell of caramelized popcorn near the gift shop on the corner. I can literally see it popping through the window, as fresh as fresh gets. The thought that the scene could be on a greeting card feels typical of how this town operates, and it’s wild.
“Not now, love bucket,” Ivy says affectionately, redirecting Resin to go the other way.
“Love bucket?” I hold back a rusty chuckle as Ivy’s cheeks warm.
“He’s been the steadiest man in my life.” She smiles, looking down at him, but I watch it fade when her eyes lift to me again.
An ache resurges deep in my chest. I wish I could’ve had the chance to hold that title.
Even bundled in her red winter coat, I sense how fragile she is next to me.
I want to reach out and hold her, to remember just once what she felt like in my arms, and to show her how much affection I’m capable of giving.
Instead, I give her another reason to push me away, clearing my throat and letting my learned abruptness slip through.
“I don’t think helping you with sets would actually be helpful. Ivy, I’m sure it’s clear to you that I’m not the same man that I was when we first met. And I wish I could change it, but you should hear the truth from me.”
I think it’s going to push her away, but Ivy simply shifts closer, her head tilting up until her hot-chocolate eyes look into mine.
“Yes, I see that. But just so you know, I’m not the same woman.
” With a small nod, she turns toward the bridge, Resin stepping into place beside her.
She takes a few steps away then pauses. Her profile is etched against the winter white sky as she continues, “I still may not fully know what you’ve been fighting inside, but I can see that you’ve lost your hope, Jace.
” Her rose-colored lips quirk to the side.
“And I think you should allow yourself to hope for everything.”