19. Ivy
IVY
T he drive to the hospital took twenty minutes through midday traffic.
I found Mom in the courtyard garden, exactly where she'd said she'd be when she called and asked us to come for a visit, sitting on a bench beneath a flowering dogwood tree.
She wore a soft pink headscarf that complemented her complexion, and despite the obvious weight loss and pallor, her smile was radiant when she saw us approaching.
"There are my babies!" she called out, her voice carrying across the small garden space.
The triplets needed no encouragement. They broke free from my supervision and rushed toward her, Elena reaching her first and climbing carefully onto the bench beside her. Sammy and Chrissy flanked her on either side, chattering excitedly about everything they'd done since she'd last seen them.
"Grandma, look what I can do!" Sammy announced, then proceeded to demonstrate his newfound ability to hop on one foot while counting to ten.
Mom clapped enthusiastically, her laughter genuine and bright. "That's incredible! You've gotten so good at that."
Chrissy pulled her stuffed elephant from the stroller and presented it to Mom for inspection. "Peanut missed you," she declared solemnly.
"Well, I missed Peanut too," Mom replied, accepting the worn toy with appropriate reverence. "And I missed all of you more than you can imagine."
We'd been there for about thirty minutes when Dad's car pulled into the hospital parking lot.
I watched him walk across the courtyard, his steps quickening when he spotted Mom surrounded by the children.
His face softened in a way I rarely saw anymore, the stern businessman facade dropping away as he took in the scene.
"Look who's holding court out here," he said, settling onto the bench beside Mom. She leaned into him naturally, and for a moment they looked the way they had when I was young—united, content, whole.
Elena immediately began regaling him with a detailed account of her morning activities, while Sammy showed off his hopping skills for a new audience. Dad listened with patience I hadn't seen him display toward anyone in months, including me.
"Ivy," he said eventually, his tone carefully neutral. "Don't you have that work function tonight?"
I nodded, conscious of how he avoided my eyes even while addressing me directly. "Yes, the charity fundraiser."
"You should head home and get ready. I can stay here with your mother and keep an eye on the children." He turned to Mom. "If you're feeling up to it?"
"I'd love that," she said, her eyes bright with the prospect of more time with her grandchildren.
I hesitated, torn between wanting to stay and knowing I needed to prepare for the evening ahead. "Are you sure? They can be a handful, especially when they get tired."
"I think we can manage," Dad replied, his first direct response to me that didn't carry an edge of suspicion or reproach.
I gathered my purse and bent to kiss each of the kids goodbye, explaining that Grandpa would stay with them and Grandma for a while longer.
Elena barely looked up from the flower petals she was collecting, while Sammy and Chrissy were engaged in showing Mom how fast they could run between two trees.
"Extra snacks are in the blue bag," I told Dad.
"And if they get cranky, Elena responds well to the tablet with the educational games, but limit screen time to fifteen minutes.
Sammy will need to use the bathroom soon—he's been holding it since we got here but won't admit it.
Chrissy gets overwhelmed in crowded spaces, so if she starts clinging, find somewhere quieter. "
Dad nodded, taking in the information with the same attention he brought to business meetings. "What time should I have them home?"
"By eight, if possible. Bath time is usually around seven-thirty, and they get difficult if their routine is disrupted too much."
"I'll make sure they're ready for bed when you get back," he said, and for the first time in weeks, his voice carried no underlying tension.
After transferring booster seats to Dad's car, I climbed in my van and started it up.
The drive home felt strange without the constant chatter from the backseat.
The house was empty when I walked through the front door, Dad's study door open and vacant, no sounds of life echoing from upstairs.
I stood in the foyer for a moment, adjusting to the quiet.
In my bedroom, I closed the door and sat on the edge of my bed, taking in the rare solitude. When was the last time I'd been alone in this house? Alone anywhere, for that matter? The stillness felt foreign after months of constant motion and noise.
I opened my closet and pulled out the dress I'd chosen—a deep navy sheath that skimmed my curves without being too revealing, with a modest neckline appropriate for a charity function. It was one of the few formal pieces I owned, purchased years ago for a college event and rarely worn since.
My hands shook as I applied makeup, something I rarely bothered with beyond basic concealer and mascara. Tonight felt different, though. Tonight I would be on Duncan's arm at a public event, introduced to his colleagues and peers, stepping into a role I wasn't sure I was ready for.
I chose jewelry carefully—pearl earrings that had been my grandmother's, a delicate gold bracelet Mom had given me for my twenty-first birthday. Nothing too flashy, nothing that would draw attention to itself or raise questions about where it came from.
By six-thirty, I was ready and waiting by the front window, my heart hammering against my ribs. Every car that passed made my pulse spike, even though I knew Duncan wouldn't arrive for another fifteen minutes.
At exactly six-forty-five, his black sedan pulled into the driveway.
I grabbed my clutch and headed for the door, but froze when I saw Dad's minivan turning onto our street.
He pulled into the driveway behind Duncan's car, and I could see the kids' faces pressed against the windows, tired but happy from their extended grandparent time.
I stepped outside, closing the front door behind me, and walked toward Duncan's car.
He was already out of the driver's seat, looking devastating in his black tuxedo, his silver-streaked hair perfectly styled.
He stood by the passenger door as I walked to my minivan and grabbed a small bottle of perfume from the glovebox.
When I straightened I noticed him staring.
Duncan gave the minivan a thorough once-over as I spritzed my perfume and walked toward him, his expression thoughtful.
When I joined him, he smiled, but there was something curious in his eyes.
"Didn't picture you as a minivan girl," he said, his tone light but probing.
He opened the door for me and I slid in, though my hands were shaking a little.
I forced a smile, my chest constricting around the lie I was about to tell. "Got a good deal on it. Hard to pass up reliable transportation."
The words felt wrong in my mouth, another deception added to the growing pile between us, and I only prayed he didn't ask about the baby on board sticker clinging to the back window. This was a bad idea, but it was too late to back out now.