Chapter 14
Ivy had just finished taking a hot shower and was about to make herself a cup of tea when she heard the doorbell ring. Glancing at the clock on the stove, she saw it was a little past eight. Most likely, it was her father stopping by on his way home. Or maybe Rebecca, who owed her a visit.
Ivy unlocked the door and was about to open it, when she remembered to turn on the light on the front porch. When she opened the door, she fully expected to see her father or Rebecca. Anything but what she saw. For several seconds, she thought she was imagining the small, tear-stained girl standing on the other side of the door.
“I’m sorry,” the little girl said. “I mean, I am sorry to bother you, but I’m lost, and I just need to use your telephone.”
A few more seconds passed before Ivy was able to move. “Of course, please come in.” She opened the door, and the little girl took a few steps into the entryway and looked down.
“It’s okay, come on inside.”
Holly knew that her sneakers were muddy, and did not want to ruin the woman’s floors. “My shoes,” she said, looking down. “They’re muddy.”
Ivy took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. “A little mud never hurt a thing. Now come inside so you can call your parents. I’m sure they’re very concerned about you.”
This meeting was the last thing Ivy expected. And today of all days. Ivy’s hands shook, and she would have liked a tall drink right about now, but she had made a promise to stop the alcohol, and stop drinking she would.
After she turned off the light on the porch, Ivy said, “I have a phone in the kitchen. Follow me, please.” This child’s parents must be worried sick. What in the world was she doing out at night, alone?
Without waiting for the girl to say anything, Ivy headed back to the kitchen. Thankful there were no empty booze bottles lying about, and even more thankful that she had cleaned the place, Ivy found the phone and handed it to the girl. She almost dropped it when she saw her in the bright light of the kitchen. Her hair had golden streaks throughout. Her heart-shaped face was beautiful. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. Ivy was so overwhelmed, she wanted to wrap this child in her arms and never let go. But the poor girl would think her out of her mind if she did.
“Would you like a cup of hot tea before you make your call? It will warm you up while you wait.”
Holly had never had hot tea before. She smiled and nodded. “Thanks, but I need to call my house first.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.” Ivy stepped into the living room so the little girl could have some privacy. She gave her a few minutes; then, as she was about to return to the kitchen, the little girl found her and held out the phone. “My dad needs your address.”
“Oh, sure.”
She took the phone from the little girl, prepared to hear an angry parent, but what she heard was the complete opposite. “It’s 6190 Huckleberry Way. Of course she can.” Ivy gave the phone back to the girl, who did not look happy.
“Okay, Dad,” she said, then hung up without bothering to say good-bye.
“Dad mad at you?” Ivy asked as she motioned for the girl to follow her to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water from the sink and placed it on the stove.
She took two bright yellow cups and set them side by side on the counter. “What flavor would you like?”
“I don’t know. Just regular, I guess.”
“I take it you’re not a big tea drinker? It’s okay, I’m just starting myself. I’m a coffee drinker, mostly, but tea is supposed to be good for you. I was going to make myself a cup of green tea. Would you like to try some?”
“Please,” the girl said.
It suddenly occurred to Ivy that this little girl must think she was incredibly rude, as she had never introduced herself. “My name is Ivy. What’s yours?”
“Holly,” she said, and Ivy turned around to see she was smiling.
“Ivy and Holly, like the vines, that’s . . . Well, I do not know what you’d call it, but Holly is a beautiful name.”
“Thanks. So is Ivy.”
Ivy turned her back to Holly while she placed tea bags in the mugs. “So, Holly, tell me about yourself.”
“There isn’t much to tell, really. I’m eleven. In fifth grade. I don’t like math at all, which is why I’m here.”
Ivy slowly poured hot water over the tea bags. Elizabeth and James would be eleven. Her hands began to shake, and she placed the teakettle down for a minute. She took two spoons from the drawer and placed them in the mugs.
She did not want to frighten Holly if she saw how badly her hands were shaking. It was not from lack of alcohol. It was the day. The entire day had been unlike any in so many years, but Ivy found that she was quite comfortable with this child. She had made a point to avoid being around children whenever possible, for they brought back too many memories, but not this child. It was odd, as though she were drawn to her in some way.
“Not a math person, huh?” Ivy said to let Holly know she had heard her.
“No. I like spelling and English, but math is just too hard.”
“Well, sometimes people are born with an aptitude for math, while others have an aptitude for English, or science, even foreign languages. I majored in business, so math was pretty easy for me, but I had a terrible time with spelling.” Ivy had no clue why she was telling Holly all of this. She had not spoken of her college years in so long, she had thought they were nothing but distant memories.
“Dad says I have to study harder, and I’ll figure it out, but it’s hard for me on my own. My friend offered to tutor me, but I can’t let her.”
Ivy heard a trace of something in Holly’s voice, but she did not know her well enough to know exactly what Holly had said that bothered her. “So why can’t you let your friend tutor you?” Maybe this was being a bit nosy, but Ivy was very curious about the girl, that’s all.
“Dad says I won’t ever get it unless I learn it on my own.”
Ivy was not so sure about that, but it was not her place to voice an opinion. “I bet you’re a hands-on kind of learner. Maybe if your dad showed you how to work out your numbers, you’d understand better.” It probably was not the best response she could have made, but it was her first thought.
“Sometimes in class, if the teacher shows me a few times, I get it, but then I freak out when it’s time for a test and forget everything. That’s why I’m barely making a B minus.”
“That’s not a bad grade at all,” Ivy said. “I carried a few B’s in college.”
“I make straight A’s in all my other classes. I just can’t seem to get math. My best friend Kayla is a real brain in math. She offered to help me, but I do not think Dad will allow it.”
Even though it wasn’t any of her business—after all, she did not know this child or her family, but she couldn’t help herself—she had to ask, “Why not?”
Holly blew on her cup of tea; then she took a sip. “This is good.”
Was that Holly’s way of avoiding her question? She certainly had every right to keep her family issues private.
Ivy took a drink of her tea, too. She waited a couple seconds, then spoke. “You really like the tea? If you don’t, it’s okay with me. I think it needs a pound of sugar, what about you?”
“I like it, really. It’s good. Sugar might make it better, though,” Holly agreed.
Ivy rifled through the cupboards until she located some packets of sugar. She had not bought a bag of sugar since . . . since she and her kids had bought the makings for sugar cookies just a few days before they died.
She took a deep breath. I’m fine, she told herself. And if she wasn’t, she had to be, at least until Holly’s father took the girl home. She would not have a meltdown in front of this little girl, who seemed wise beyond her years. Still, there was something else, but Ivy could not decide what it was about the child that nagged at her. It didn’t matter, she supposed. Once Holly was safe at home, she would likely forget all about Ivy.
“Here you go,” Ivy said, and handed her three packets of pure sugar. She dumped five packets in her tea, took a sip, then added another.
“You like sweet stuff?”
“I do in green tea,” Ivy said, and laughed. She actually laughed! And it felt nice. She would not overanalyze this. Not now.
Holly added one packet of sugar to her tea, stirred it with her spoon, then took a sip. “It’s really good with a bit of sugar.” She took another drink, and Ivy hoped she wasn’t just drinking the tea to be polite. It wasn’t going to be her favorite, that Holly knew, but she would finish her cup.
“Dad thinks if I study hard, alone, I’ll grasp math better, but I have tried, and I just don’t understand fractions. I would rather wash dishes.”
Ivy smiled. She remembered feeling that way when she was about her age, only it was spelling. She hated it, but her father spent as much time as she had needed to go over the words with her, teaching her ways to remember the correct spelling of each word. She would never forget in second grade learning to spell together. Her father had made it very simple when he’d told her to remember it by breaking it down: to get her. She would never forget that word. And she learned that dessert was always spelled with two S’s because it was twice as nice as the desert sand. Silly when she thought about it now, but it had worked because her father made the effort to help her.
“What about your mom?” Ivy asked.
“I don’t have a mom,” Holly answered.
Ivy’s heart flip-flopped. Poor kid . . . that’s it, she thought as she took another sip of tea. She had made a connection with Holly, and that had to be it. She was a young girl without a mother. Just like she had been at her age.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy said. She was not sure what had happened, so the typical I’m sorry would have to suffice.
“It’s okay, really. She died when I was really little. I don’t even remember her all that much. I have a picture, though. Dad says I look just like her.”
“Then your mother was a beautiful woman,” Ivy replied. She must have been because this child was unusually pretty. “I’m sorry you lost her.” She was about to tell her she had lost her mother, too, when the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably your dad,” Ivy said, stating the obvious.
Holly quickly jumped off the bar stool and took her cup of tea with her, placing it in the sink. “Dad doesn’t allow me to have much sugar or caffeine,” she explained.
Ivy ran her finger across her mouth as if she were zipping it shut. “It’s our secret.” Poor kid, she’s deprived. Green tea was an antioxidant. Of course she would not know that, but still. A kid and sugar were meant for one another, in the appropriate amounts, of course.
“Why don’t you wait here while I answer the door. Maybe your dad can stay for a cup of tea.” Ivy said this because she wanted to see what kind of man would not allow his daughter to have help with math and would forbid sweets. Holly had not actually said sweets were forbidden, just that she was not allowed much. Maybe she had health issues? Either way, she wanted to meet the man who allowed his eleven-year-old daughter to get lost in the woods at night.
Filled with dislike before she even opened the door, Ivy remembered to turn the porch light on first; then she opened the door.
She stared at a tall man with hair that was too long, shoulders that were too broad, and eyes that were too sad. She was staring at the man who’d tried to help her at the cemetery today.