Chapter 8 #2
Safe. Ivy had never heard a better compliment, not that she heard many compliments at all, outside of Cora and the parents of her former pupils.
The warmth of relief filled Ivy’s chest, and she was sure color showed on her face because her cheeks turned hot.
“I suppose not needing to be as vigilant will take some getting used to.”
“I suppose it will.”
“When was the last time you took a leisurely, solitary walk?”
“I haven't taken a walk just for my own pleasure in...” He trailed off, brow furrowing, obviously trying to remember. “Years. Probably twelve.”
“Then you're long overdue.” She caught the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Pleased at their progress, Ivy made a little shooing motion.
“Jewel and I will manage quite well. We’ll go outside for a little while in the opposite direction you’re heading.
Give her a chance to move around in the fresh air.
We’re going to work on counting next. By the time you return, hopefully, she’ll have some numbers for you. ”
Because the sky was blue and the air smelled of pine and new growth and the lake glittered like hammered silver, Torin ambled.
For the first time in twelve years, he didn’t have to keep eyes and ears focused on his daughter.
He could stay out as long as he wanted without feeling obligated to Brian or Hank, even though he knew they enjoyed spending time with Jewel.
He stood at the edge of the lake and watched a pair of swans glide past, their reflections perfect on the still water. A red-tailed hawk circled overhead. The mountains rose, white-capped and ancient, indifferent to the small struggles of the people at their feet.
This is what freedom feels like. The thought startled him.
Torin hadn't realized how imprisoned he'd been—not by Three Bend Lake, which he loved, but by the relentless weight of being Jewel's sole protector. Then guilt assailed him for thinking about being a father as a prison. He loved being Jewel’s father.
Nor was he her sole protector. Just her primary one.
But truly, keeping her alive and, not just well, but happy, constantly weighed on him.
He stayed out for over an hour, walking farther around Brian’s end of the lake than he’d ever gone before, just to explore.
Hiking up the mountainside about fifty yards, he found a long, low rock in a small clearing that provided a clear view of the lake, high enough to see over the trees to the three bends that gave their little valley its name.
He sat for a while, not thinking, just communing with nature. But then his dilemma with Ivy intruded on his peace.
He’d watched the patient, unhurried way she guided Jewel's hand on the slate.
The way she praised each small attempt as though it were a marvel.
The way she spoke to Jewel—not in the slow, exaggerated tones some people used with those they considered simple—but in a warm, natural voice that assumed intelligence and rewarded effort.
Ivy’s a good teacher. She's exactly what Jewel needs.
And that was the problem.
Last night, he'd looked up from his book and found Ivy watching him. Just for a moment—a heartbeat, no more—but in that unguarded instant, the lamplight had caught the soft curve of her cheek, the warmth in her brown eyes, and something inside him had turned over.
He'd felt it before, this treacherous pull. With Mary Beth, his interest had started the same way—stolen glances, a growing awareness of another person's presence in a room. He knew where it led. He knew the cost. A cost I’m not about to pay.
The cold of the rock penetrated to chill his legs.
As Torin stood, he saw a game trail heading in the direction of his home, providing a shortcut that avoided him having to follow the bends of the lake. I’ll be home in minutes.
He returned to the house, his cheeks stinging with cold and his spirit lighter. Once he removed his coat, he followed the sound of voices to the dining room and watched Ivy teach Jewel to count dried beans on the table.
“Ten!” Jewel announced when she saw him. “Pa-pa, I count ten!”
“You counted to ten?” Torin stared at Ivy. “She can count to ten? How did she go from three to ten?” The guilt came again—that he hadn’t really tried to teach her more numbers.
My daughter counted to ten! His Mongoloid daughter, whom the doctors said would never learn to speak more than a few words to communicate and master the most rudimentary skills. His daughter, whom Mary Beth had called that creature.
Perhaps, the doctors’ comments about her never being able to learn had constrained him more than he’d realized.
“She's been working very hard.” Ivy's smile was warm but careful. Obviously, she was still navigating the distance he'd imposed. “Jewel has a real talent for numbers, actually. Better than her letters, in some ways. Basic counting,” she nudged one bean toward him, “is tangible.”
Maybe that’s why I didn’t push numbers more, thinking she’d have the same struggles as with letters. Torin pulled out a chair and sat heavily. “Show me, Sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough.
Jewel happily demonstrated, touching each bean and counting aloud. She stumbled at seven, saying “sen.”
“Seven.” Ivy gently corrected her.
Jewel carried on to ten without further error.
When she finished, Torin gathered his darling daughter into his arms and held her tight, gratitude filling his heart. Over Jewel's shoulder, his gaze found Ivy's, and this time he didn't look away.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Two words. Wholly inadequate. But Ivy seemed to understand everything they contained, because she nodded once, and her careful composure softened into something that made his chest ache.
The walk, Ivy’s patient and creative teaching of his daughter, and the joy of Jewel’s counting had faded Torin’s nightmarish fears.
“I found a scenic spot to look out over the lake and, at night, provide a perfect view of the Northern Lights. Would you be interested in seeing them sometime this week? The air will be cold.”
Ivy’s eyes widened. “The Aurora Borealis?” she breathed. “That will be an adventure.” She glanced down at Jewel, engrossed in scribbling As on her slate. “What about this one?”
“We won’t go for long, and she sleeps deeply throughout the night.”
They ate while Jewel chattered of As and numbers.
Then, Jewel took a nap, and Ivy went to her room to rest.
Torin went to the dining room and picked up his book, “The Three Musketeers,” an old favorite, and moved to the more comfortable wingchair in the parlor, finally allowing himself to read.
At first, he barely concentrated on the words, still edgy about the governess.
But the more he released his vigilance, the more he was drawn into the story.
When he’d finished, he held the book, taking a while to transition from 1628 France to modern-day Three Bend Lake.
Oh, the luxury of relaxing with a book! Usually, he only read during stolen moments while Jewel slept, and he finished up with chores.
He used to be an avid, book in-a-week, reader—to the point Mary Beth complained about wanting more of his attention.
But since Jewel’s arrival, two months was a more likely timeline.
When he’d moved here, he’d chosen not to subscribe to any newspapers. He didn’t want to know about the town’s happenings or even learn about people he’d never meet. As for the wider world…he just pretended it didn’t exist.
He wasn’t a complete ignoramus. Brian and Hank kept him apprised of the important facts. Their conversations usually went along the lines of, “William McKinley was just elected president. Garret A. Hobart is Vice-President.” Or “Turkey and Greece have gone to war.”
He’d nod but wouldn’t ask anything more, and the conversation died. He’d always appreciated how Hank and Brian didn’t push the issues.
With Ivy’s arrival, Torin had become aware of how ignorant he was about what was happening outside of Three Bend Lake. He felt rather appalled at how much he’d allowed his brain to atrophy.
Somehow, he’d equated the wider world as bad—to be blocked out. And since newspapers mostly reported the darkest news—daily dealings, difficulties, and disasters—he had no desire to read about the pain of others. He had enough to do with suppressing his own and making a happy life for his daughter.
But I’ve also turned away from all the good out there.
I could subscribe to newspapers again.
The idea was both liberating and unsettling. Opening a newspaper meant acknowledging that a world existed beyond Three Bend Lake. A world that had rejected his daughter.
But also a world that produced competent, kind women like Ivy.
He closed the book on that thought before it could go any further.
But now that he’d have time to peruse them, Torin decided to subscribe to some newspapers. He’d start with the Sweetwater Springs Herald and, even though they’d be dreadfully out of date by the time of their arrival, perhaps a state newspaper, as well as a national one.
Imagine that. Torin Rees opening to the wider world.