Chapter Thirteen #2
“Well, you’re doing much better at it than my attempts to give Emmy what she needs.
” My fear—that I’m not a good enough dad for my daughter—hovers between us.
Its uncertainty is laced in my words, filling the air around us.
I expect her to agree or, at the very least, to look at me with pity for not knowing how to navigate all the unknown firsts of having a daughter that seem to be piling up around me at an alarming rate or even question my ability to provide for Emmy.
But her reply is so full of compassion that it sends an antsy tingle up my spine. “Hey, no, don’t do that, Jace. You’re giving her everything you can. It’s clear how much you love her. And the dance world isn’t easy for anyone, not even the ones who grew up in it.”
I’m not sure I’m worthy of her kindness, but she grins, and my knees buckle. With relief, I take the reprieve she’s offering. “I mean, the numbers on all the shoes. That’s confusing.”
Ivy laughs and picks up a keychain with a miniature pointe shoe on it, spinning it and fidgeting. Her eyes lift to mine again, and her hands go still. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out.
“We have the shoes!” Ms. Phoebe interrupts with a flourish as she holds Emmy’s hand and walks her toward us.
“Right, yes. The shoes!” Ivy smiles at Emmy, replacing the keychain on the checkout display. She turns to me. “Okay, well, I should . . .” She gestures upstairs.
I find myself not wanting to let her go. It feels like the most inopportune moment for Ivy to walk away. I’m not even sure why I feel that way, except that her presence has a way of reminding me of the parts of myself I used to really like but have since long forgotten.
“When does your shift end?” I find myself asking as Emmy raises her hands for me to lift her up, which I do. Just yesterday, I proposed a twelve-days-of-Christmas-get-to-know-each-other experiment to Ivy. We haven’t yet set up our plans for today.
“Oh, I don’t work here,” she replies, glancing around. “I used to, as a teenager, with Ms. Phoebe over here. But I was just checking her stock for some items we’ll need for the show. I get insider privileges in this town.”
I nod, an idea forming. “Would you like to get lunch with us?”
A weird-looking cuckoo clock behind the counter chimes just as I say the words. A miniature nutcracker pops out at the last chime. Ivy’s eyes widen, her lips parting in a knowing grin.
“Please! Please! Please!” Emmy holds her hands under her chin in the way she does when she wants me to cave.
While I make sure to keep discipline and boundaries gently established in our parent-and-child dynamic, this is the move that usually derails my plans.
And Emmy knows it. Ivy’s smile tells me she’s not immune to Emmy’s charms either.
“Go on, dearie,” Ms. Phoebe coaxes. “It’s not every day you get asked out by the most adorable pair I’ve seen in a long time.
I can text you the numbers later tonight.
I think I know by now what you need.” She looks at me with a wink.
“Besides, if this one stays here any longer, I think he might break everything in my shop.”
As if on cue, I overestimate the space I have available to reach into my coat pocket for my wallet and knock over a display of wooden Mouse King ornaments. “I’m so sorry. I’ll clean that up.”
Ms. Phoebe waves me off. “Please don’t touch another thing. I know a good story when I see it. Besides, I really do think you’re just too big for my place.”
Ivy laughs. At the sound, I decide my embarrassment is worth it as I one-handedly give Ms. Phoebe my credit card, still holding Emmy with the other hand.
Offering us a smile, Ivy turns toward the stairs. “Let me just grab my things.”
And my heart soars, because I’m having lunch with Ivy for the first time ever.
∞∞∞
We walk about Birch Borough, having just finished lunch at the juice bar and café that recently opened.
People keep nodding at us like we’re the king and queen of the region, with Emmy as the princess.
Too bad it isn’t true. Though maybe it could be if you’d just give in to what you really want, my love-starved mind interjects unhelpfully.
“So, ‘The Battle’ scene in The Nutcracker,” Ivy cuts through my thoughts with her striking voice.
Though it still sends a smoky shiver through my frame, I’m getting increasingly used to hearing it again. Just like the classical music I love, I have a feeling that just her voice alone has been rewiring my brain. I feel happier every time I hear it.
“I have all the little mice and soldiers ready,” she continues. “And, of course, my nutcracker prince. We just need to figure out a way to get the tree to grow from the start. That’s really what sets off the scene.”
Little does she know that I’ve already studied the entire ballet.
She gave me a list of the numbers the students will be performing, and I searched for them on YouTube.
I even found one by the dance legend, Mikhail Baryshnikov.
One doesn’t need to even know ballet to have heard of him.
I studied each recording late into the night with my reading glasses and a cup of peppermint tea in hand.
After familiarizing myself with each scene, I’m even more fascinated with what Ivy’s world consists of.
I hurry to answer her question. “I think I can figure out a way to make it happen. If we get some scrim or even some other great fabric, we should be able to create the illusion of the tree growing. I just need more lights and a better sense of the space for the height I’m building to.”
Ivy pauses on the sidewalk, her eyes bright. “You’ve researched this.”
“Of course I’ve researched. This is important to you.”
She brushes the wisps of hair around her face that I’ve long appreciated out of her eyes. “Yeah, it is.”
“Well, then it’s worth researching.”
We resume walking again. Emmy’s face is cuddled into the side of my neck.
I think the grilled cheese she ordered for lunch was truly a comfort food because her chest rises slower and slower as the minutes tick by.
She’s close to sleep, and it’s these moments that I want to bottle and never forget as she gets older.
Ivy looks up at me and then tips her head forward toward Emmy. “She’s out,” she whispers.
I sigh and reply with a bit of a smile.
“Do you need to head back?”
“Yeah, I probably should. She’s usually wound up until naptime, but I think the excitement of the season has been wiping her out.”
“Makes sense.”
I want to capture Ivy’s grin in a bottle too. I’d gladly become a scientist or a historian if it meant the ability to research and catalog all the things that make Ivy as wonderful as she is.
“Jace, I know you need to go, but can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She sighs, leading us under the awning of a nearby store. There’s a view of the river across the bridge in front of us. A brass band plays jazzy Christmas music on the next corner, a space heater and an extension cord powering their holiday spirit.
“Ask me anything,” I encourage, just to make sure she knows I mean it.
“You once asked me what I wanted to be known for. Do you remember that?”
I hate the hesitancy in her tone, but it’s appropriate given all the other things that transpired that night and after.
“Yes.” The single word is all I can grit out, even though I want to tell her I memorized every word of our conversation back then.
What we shared has been a soundtrack for me during the hardest seasons of my life.
She captures my gaze with her own. “I’d like to ask you the same question now. What do you want to be known for?”
The question pushes the air out of my lungs.
I readjust my grip on Emmy, and she shifts.
I think of Ivy’s brother, the one who would most likely come after me if he knew I’m not only talking to her again, but I’m also helping her with the show and trying to spend as much time with her as possible before I leave yet again.
But he’s not here. And I am. “That’s a big question,” I breathe.
“It is. But you used to seem so sure of what you wanted. I’m wondering if those hopes and dreams have changed as well.”
I want to tell her that I feel like I’ve been through the blender of life and have come out as a completely different mixture of a man.
But the one thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m drawn to her now just as much as I was when we first met.
The first time I saw her again, I knew. Despite all the factors keeping us apart, my feelings for her have remained untouched by time and space.
Emmy’s delicate weight in my arms reminds me of the time lapse.
There’s another life for which I’m now responsible.
A precious life that I’ve vowed to prioritize above all else.
My daughter needs me just as I need her, and putting her first is the driving force in my mind.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t long for the gentle woman in front of me.
“That’s a complicated question for me now, Ivy.” The faint gruffness in my voice startles both of us. “Things have shifted since I first asked you that question.”
Ivy nods.
“I want to be known for being a good father to Emmy. Anything beyond that, I need to think about to answer honestly. Is that okay?”
Truthfully, I do need to think about it.
Because there’s so much emotion wrapped up within both my memory of Ivy and her literal presence.
I still need to sort through everything that I feel.
There’s so much in my life that is yet unknown.
We’re walking through the archetype for all enchanted forests.
Here, magic abounds, and life isn’t complicated and confusing.
Birch Borough is a place where life once seemed to suspend itself to bring us together.
But then it also tore us apart. In the stage of friendship that Ivy and I find ourselves at the present, I’m not sure how much of the deepest parts of my heart to share with her quite yet. But I’ll learn.
“Of course, Jace.” Ivy’s voice is warm, her tone assured, with no hint of hesitation. “But just so you know, I’m here when you have your answer. I have a feeling I’ll really want to know what it is.”
“Same, Ivy,” I mutter as she walks with me until we have to go our separate ways. “Same.”