Chapter 29 Alexander
Alexander
I can still feel Ivy’s lips on my cheek.
I’m certain she didn’t mean to, but that tiny kiss made things a thousand times harder for me.
As much as I hate it, I’m glad she stopped me when I lost my better sense and tried to kiss her.
I don’t want to ruin this, and I think a kiss would have done just that.
Her lips on my cheek, though? I don’t know when I’ll be able to push it aside and stop wishing for more.
The clerk at the inn we are staying at, a tiny woman with short silver curls, hands us our keys with a grin. She’d recognized me and hadn’t said anything, but it seemed she could no longer hold in her comments.
“I’ll never forget the first film I saw you in. I said to my friend, ‘He’s quite tidy, isn’t he?’” She giggles. Giggles. Like a schoolgirl. This is already in the top ten percent of my favorite fan interactions.
I grin. “I appreciate that. I hope you enjoyed the film.”
“Ah. I’ve enjoyed all your films.” She waves her hands, sort of shooing us away. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. You guys enjoy your stay.”
“I’m sure we will. Thank you.” I extend my hand to her. “And it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“No, lad. The pleasure is all mine.”
We’re walking toward the stairs and our second-floor rooms, when Ivy leans in and whispers. “Did she just call you tidy?”
The next morning, I knock on Ivy’s door. I texted her, but she hasn’t responded. I don’t want the breakfast in my hands to get cold.
She opens the door, and I am not prepared.
Not in the least. Her eyes are half closed, an endearing grumpiness emanating from her pajamas.
A black, pink-flamingo-covered tank top with matching hot pink short shorts.
And as exciting as that entire situation is, it’s, once again, her hair that draws the eye.
It’s like she’s been electrocuted. I cannot express how much I love the look. She must notice my particular attention to her hair because she deepens her scowl.
“Alex,” she says in a tone that tells me I’m about to get scolded. That makes me smile in a way that I’m certain won’t help. “It is eight-thirty. I’m still not adjusted to this time. Why on earth didn't you just wait for me to message you?”
“I didn’t want your breakfast to get cold. I assumed since I have nearly adjusted, you would have too. I thought you’d be up by the time I got back with breakfast.”
She stares at me, still blocking her doorway.
“I brought eggs and scones.” She continues to stare.
“And lemon curd.”
The staring continues.
“And clotted cream.”
Her face doesn’t change, but she takes a step back. “Come in.”
“Still want to know about my parents?” she asks.
“I would, yes. Only anything you don’t mind sharing.” I peek at Ivy, all wrapped up in her blanket in my car, and I wish she could always be with me on adventures. I can’t help but think she would be an amazing partner for anything and everything.
“Do I seem like someone who would let you force me into sharing something I didn’t want to?” She grins over at me, and I laugh.
“Definitely not.”
She laughs. “Val and I never knew our father. To this day we don’t know who he is.
Our mother would never talk about him. As a child, I used to imagine he was an incredible man, who somehow didn’t know we existed.
You could believe that with one kid, but two?
” She was shaking her head when I glanced in her direction.
“Anyway, I would imagine he would come get Val and me. He would love us, and treat us well, and take me to snow tube on my birthday. That was a very specific dream. Birthdays were always a disappointment with mom.”
“Did she not care about your birthdays?”
“She didn’t really care about us in general.”
“That’s terribly sad.” As strict and formal as my parents could be, I always knew they loved me and that I was their priority. I can’t imagine growing up with a parent who didn’t care.
“Yeah, well, it just meant that I was the parent of our family. Outwardly, it seemed like we had a great mom. She dressed us up and paraded us around. She loved to brag about her beautiful daughters. But it was all for show. She ignored us at home, and only talked to us as much as she deemed necessary when she took us places. Which wasn’t often.
Thankfully we lived in town, so Val and I would walk places just to get out.
When I was old enough, I got a job so when I was sixteen, I could buy a car. ”
“What was your job?”
“I was a waitress. It’s where I fell in love with the restaurant business.
There’s something extra special about it in a small town.
I loved seeing the regulars. Remembering their usuals.
I had one woman who wrote a Bible verse on every receipt she signed.
I started bringing a notebook with me to work to copy them into since the receipts had to stay with the restaurant.
Her name is Fran Randolph and she always got the soup of the day.
It didn’t matter what kind it was. And now she eats at my restaurant, and it’s always a treasure to come across one of her receipts. ”
“Wow. That’s really special.” No wonder she doesn’t want to leave home. I turn on my indicator before turning into the car park nearest the cliffs.
“It is. I’ll be glad to see Fran when we get home.”
“And your mom? Is she still around?”
“She is, but we don’t see her. She seemed glad to see us go when the time came. Val’s building her own family, and I … well, I have my restaurant.”
That makes me unexpectedly sad. I wonder why she hasn’t married.
Is she scared? She did say she has a hard time trusting.
That makes a lot of sense now. Surely, she’s met enough people to show her that there are plenty of people who are trustworthy.
Or what if she doesn’t feel like she deserves love?
Maybe logically she knows that she does, but deep down her mum left scars.
I pull into one of the many open spots and decide against asking any of my burning questions. Not yet, anyway.
“You both came out of a bad situation and made something better with your lives. That’s admirable.”
She nods, seemingly lost in thought or memory—I’m not sure which. Either way, I feel the need to bring her back to the present.
“You ready to see the cliffs?”
Ivy has a death grip on my hand. We stand behind a fence at least five meters from the cliff’s edge.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“Yes.”
For some reason, her weak answer doesn’t have me convinced. I remembered her fear of heights on the Tower Bridge, but thought being here on solid ground, far from the cliff's edge would be different.
“What’s that land over there? An island?” she asks as she stares across the English Channel, doing a nice job distracting herself.
“That’s actually France.”
She turns to me, surprised, and the grip she has on my hand slackens. I’m relieved that, at least for the moment, her anxiety has eased.
“Really?”
“Yes. You can’t always see it, but it’s a nice clear day, so there it is.” It’s a truly beautiful day, and the wind off the sea makes it nearly cool enough for a jacket.
“How far is it?”
“Hmm … something like twenty miles? Perhaps more, I’m not certain.
There’s a sign over there.” I point to a sign on the fence, and I take a step toward it.
Ivy doesn’t budge. I look at her and find her staring at something over my shoulder.
I turn and find three teenagers over the fence, nearing the edge.
“Why are they doing that? What if one of them trips? Or even has a powerful sneeze? What if one of them is secretly mad—”
“Hey.” I turn and take her other hand. “None of that is going to happen.”
She has tears in her eyes. “You don’t know that. It could definitely happen.” Her eyes, which had been on mine, turn back to the teens. “We have to get them to come back.”
Ivy looks as if she is trying to move, then instead looks up at me. “Will you go closer to them? Still behind the fence. Maybe take off your glasses and hat so they recognize you. They’ll want to come away from the edge.”
I want to say something to her about the wisdom of me taking off my glasses near a cliff, but I refrain. “Okay, sure. You want to wait here?”
She nods and as I’m stepping away, I let go of her hand, or at least I try to. I look back at our hands, then up at Ivy.
“I guess I’m coming,” she says with an anxious and apologetic smile. I’m about to tell her something about not worrying or how sorry I am that I brought her here, knowing how bad the tower bridge was for her. Instead, she continues, “Let’s get a move on. There are lives to save.”
I lead Ivy slowly along the fence until we’re as close to the teens as we can get without crossing. I take off my glasses and hat, then look at Ivy. “I’m afraid of calling out and startling them.”
“See? Even you think anything could happen.” She stands slightly behind me, both arms wrapped around my arm. I swear I feel her heart pounding against my tricep.
I’m contemplating how to get their attention when one of them looks in our direction. I wave, then wave him toward us. He takes a couple of steps toward us, then recognition lights his face, and he calls for his friends.
“Alexander Henry,” the guy I waved at exclaims, in what I believe is a German accent, as he approaches. I notice Ivy relaxing her grip on my arm with each step they take closer.
“Hey, guys. I thought I’d say hi because my friend and I were a little worried about you all being so close to the edge.” I turn to Ivy and she’s looking up at me with the sweetest smile I’ve seen from her yet. I don’t want to look away, but one of the teens speaks.
“Ah. We’d have been fine. But I’m glad you waved. Really cool to meet you.”
“And,” a girl speaks up, “you care enough to hope we don’t die. That’s awesome.”
I’m about to open my mouth to tell them that while I do care, this was all Ivy, when Ivy speaks. “That’s just who he is. He cares.”
I look down at her with a teasing smile and lightly elbow her, which just sends her whole body backwards since she’s still holding on to me.
It shouldn't have been a problem, but apparently her feet get tangled and despite her hold on my arm, she starts to fall.
I turn and get my other arm behind her in the nick of time.
“See? Anything can happen. I’m glad we weren’t close to the edge,” she calls to the group from where her cheek is pressed against my chest. They don’t respond, and I don't know what their faces are doing because I’m too busy enjoying this moment with Ivy in my arms.
She steps out of my hold. “You guys want a picture with Alex?”
“We’d love that,” the girl responds. “Would you mind taking it?”
They climb over the fence and take several photos with me. Ivy seems to have forgotten where we are until the teens leave and the cliff’s edge is once again in the forefront of her vision.
“There’s a nature reserve where you can see the cliffs from below. Would you like to do that? I would have taken you there in the first place, but—”
“It’s totally fine. We saved at least one life today.”
I grin at her and her sparkling eyes. “We did indeed.”
The only people we come across in Samphire Hoe nature reserve are an older couple wearing matching wool caps.
They take a photo of Ivy and me in front of the cliffs.
We’d seen them walking around holding hands and whispering in each other’s ears.
We thought, perhaps, it was because they were hard of hearing, but they heard us just fine. Ivy declared it just romance.
And hey, if it takes a lovely old couple to get Ivy thinking about romance, so be it.
“Did you send the photo to Mr. Crawley?” Ivy asks.
“I did. Right after they handed me back the phone.”
“Good. I’m ready for another puzzle.”
“Hopefully he sends it soon.”
We walk along the beach, enjoying the blue waters and the view of the alabaster cliffs from below. And once again, she holds my hand.