4. Honor Her Memory
HONOR HER MEMORY
Oliver
The park hadn’t changed in all the years we’d been coming here.
The tiny baby swings made of rubber that I was so sure Hudson would slide right out of when he was nine months old, sat on one side.
Another rack of swings for everyone else next to it.
A massive jungle gym in the middle with five various slides of different colors.
Ramps and bridges connecting each one. Different types of ladders and rock walls that climbed up to the various platforms. Monkey bars, see-saws, and so many colors that a kid’s mind went crazy the first time they were able to truly take it all in.
Every year, January the twelfth, Hudson and I were here. Rain, snow, blistering winds, we were here. And we were always alone, except today.
Hudson grabbed a swing, his favorite thing to do since the moment his mom slid him into one that first time here and started swinging himself as high as he could.
Normally, I grabbed a swing with him, contests to see how high we could go until he’d get up the courage to launch himself off and fly through the air and into the mulch, my heart stopping for a brief second as he hit the ground and only restarting when he turned back around and smiled at me.
Today was different though, because it was eight in the morning on a Friday, and Ivy Tinsley sat on a park bench, all alone, her green eyes staring off into the distance at nothing.
I wasn’t even sure she’d noticed we’d arrived.
She was wearing a pair of black leggings, tan boots with the white fur inside I’d seen Payton wear a hundred times, a pink puffer jacket, and a pink beanie with a white puff ball on the top.
She looked like a tiny hot pink marshmallow, and part of me wanted to make a joke, but the expression on her face wouldn’t let me.
Not a speck of makeup decorated her face, which I’d come to learn over the last few months wasn’t normal. Not that I watched Ivy Tinsley in any sort of way, but it was just something I’d picked up on.
When she worked at The Roadhouse? Makeup. Out at The Raven? Makeup. Dinner at any of the family functions my brothers and their fiancées put on? Makeup. Truly the only time I’d seen her without it was the night she’d rushed over to stay with Hudson while I’d helped Rowan find Aspen.
But here she was, on this icy park bench.
Her round green eyes were red, her face splotchy.
She looked like she hadn’t slept well and needed a hug.
Not that I was going to offer a hug, or even say anything to her at all.
I was, however, going to sit on the bench—the other side of the bench.
Not directly next to her. Just on the same one while I watched my son swing until he was too cold and requested we continue to the next part of the day.
Nothing nefarious or weird about sitting on a bench next to a woman like Ivy Tinsley.
Leaned back against the old wood, arms crossed over my chest, thighs wide, boots dug into the icy sidewalk, I forced my eyes to watch Hudson. Demanded that my gaze stick to him and not drift over to the woman next to me.
“Isn’t it kinda cold for him to be out here swinging?”
Her light, melodic voice drifted across my skin in a way that left a mental burn. I shrugged, deciding silence would be my best bet here.
“You’re right. Not my business. I’m not his mom, or even a mom, for that matter.
I wouldn’t make a good one anyway, I’ve been told.
Maybe the cold is good for him. You’d know, being his dad.
So feel free to ignore me. Actually, I’ll just leave.
That would probably be better. Let you two enjoy your chilly morning together on the swings. ”
She started to stand and brush herself off, but nothing could stop the growl that reverberated through my chest. “Sit, Ivy.”
Her wide green eyes stared down at me, locked within my own as she slowly lowered herself back down, her hands in her lap.
I swallowed down the praise that sat on the end of my tongue, and my gaze returned to Hudson.
My mind slowly went over everything from her previous ramble.
Truly, only one part of it stuck out to me, though.
I spoke slowly, hoping the words would stick within her mind. “Whoever told you you wouldn’t make a good mom is a fucking idiot.”
Her eyes were staring at the side of my head, but I still refused to look at her.
Couldn’t bring myself to look at her, if I were being honest with myself, at least not when she was looking back at me.
The other thing I’d learned since that first night when she stood in my living room in her fuzzy slippers and oversized hoodie was that the less she and I locked gazes, the better.
I thought she wouldn’t respond at first. Maybe I’d rendered her speechless like she often did me, even when she didn’t mean to or expect it, but I was wrong, as always with Ivy Tinsley.
“Do you know those moments when something happens, and you think it’ll play out like it does in the movies or the books? Where the guy steps up and says something that makes all the previous bad stuff okay, because he’s there now? And he’s ready to be your prince? Your knight in shining armor?”
My gaze finally slid to hers, and fuck me, I shouldn’t have done it. But I did, and I shook my head because I had no idea what she was talking about. Not even close, but that didn’t deter her one bit.
“I have moments like that all the time. For example, last night I told my boyfriend when he asked about an appointment next week that it was for a birth control refill. I had this split-second moment, ya know? Where I thought he’d take me into his arms and kiss me.
He’d tell me we didn’t need a refill because he wanted to get married and have kids with me.
The whole family dream with a couple kids and a cute dog.
I want that, ya know? But he didn’t do any of that.
Why would he?” She scoffed and shook her head, her eyes turning over to Hudson as he launched himself off the swing for the third time.
“He told me it was good to get the refill done, and logically I know he’s right.
We don’t need kids, especially when he’s gone for hours or even days at a time.
I’m not sure if this is even a forever relationship anymore.
That would be a recipe for disaster.” She trailed off, her voice quiet as Hudson got back on the swing, a smile on his face, his cheeks and nose red from the cold.
She was leaving out the part of the conversation where he’d said she’d make a terrible mom, but it didn’t need to be repeated. I understood the gist of it just fine.
“Sometimes it isn’t that we’d make bad parents.
It’s that who we’re with aren’t the people we should parent with.
” Part of me worried I’d crossed some invisible line again, but she didn’t say anything.
She didn’t yell at me or tell me to fuck off with my comments.
She just sat in silence next to me for a while.
Silence next to Ivy Tinsley was something I hadn’t experienced before, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to again.
It felt heavy and suffocating right now.
Not because she had to fill the silence for me, but because Ivy was the definition of the sun, and she wasn’t shining, so the world felt dark and the air felt thick.
So I did something I never did—I talked.
“Today is—was—Emily’s birthday. My wife, Hudson’s mom.
Not my ex-wife, right? I mean, she’s gone, but not an ex.
Just…gone. Sometimes I still forget, and I wake up and think I smell pancakes, but I don’t.
A phantom smell. Apparently it’s normal for PTSD.
Escaped the army without a drop of it, only to watch my wife die, and there it was.
A ghost of a mental disorder.” I cleared my throat and glanced over to find her watching me.
“On her birthday, she got to plan the whole day, and every year she came here to swing, even heavily pregnant with Hudson. So, we kept coming back.”
“To honor her memory,” she whispered, and I nodded in return. “That’s a sweet scene from a movie, Oliver.”
Here I was rambling on about my dead wife, and then she whispered my name like that, and my wranglers felt tight and the self-loathing sank in.
It was Emily’s birthday, and the only thing that should be in my head right now was making sure my son was okay without his mom and that he felt close to her on her birthday, and I was wishing she’d say my name again.
“Ivy!” Hudson yelled as he ran over from his fourth jump off the swing. “Did you see how high I got that time? What are you doing here, anyway? It’s cold as heck out here.”
His face lit up anytime he saw Ivy Tinsley, and truly, I got it. I felt the same way on the inside. Anytime he saw her at functions, he ditched every other person around to sit with her and tell her about anything and everything. She never faltered on listening to him.
“Hey Sunny!” I glanced over in time to see a smile light up her face, and just like that, she looked like herself again.
It should make me happy, but it just made me wonder how many times she smiled, and it was all fake.
“I did! Your dad and I have been watching you. Four massive leaps, kid. I’m impressed. ”
“Did he tell you about hockey?” Hudson asked, his hands shoved in his pockets as he tried to keep the conversation casual. But I knew my son. He was chomping at the bit to tell her all about hockey.
Ivy turned to look at me, eyes wide in mock surprise, before she turned back to Hudson.
“I haven’t told her, no.”
“Dad said I could do hockey this year with my friend Colby! I need skate lessons first and some camps, but I know I’ll make the team.” He smiled over at me before turning back to Ivy. “Dad used to play hockey, and Grandma says he was really good. So I think it’s in my blood.”
“Oh that’s awesome, Sunny! Do you think I could sneak into a couple games when the season starts? I’m thinking giant glitter posters with your number on them and matching face paint in your team colors.”
Hudson’s eyes went wide, and his head tilted to the side. “Deal.”
My eyes darted between the two of them, but the speechless feeling she often left me in was back. Hudson ran back to the swings, hollering over his shoulder that he wanted one more jump before we headed out to get pancakes for breakfast, and I found myself back next to Ivy in the silence.
“I used to figure skate as a kid if he ever needs extra skating help, too. Just an offer,” she said with a shrug.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll let you know.”
“Cool. I’ll, um, go say bye to him, and I’m going to head home. So I guess I’ll see you later? Or at whatever the next Carragan function is at your brother’s.” She smiled, the move not meeting her eyes this time, and I watched as she walked over to say bye to my son.
It wasn’t until he leapt off the swing and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug that I realized, for the first time in years, maybe a hug from Ivy Tinsley would fix me, too.