by Sarah Hualde
Someone knocked on the Everette’s front door, causing Lydia to splash coffee on the arm of her couch. The harried surrogate rushed to the front door, tripping on her own robe belt.
“Ms. Lana, come on in.” She opened the door and invited the woman inside. Ms. Lana toted an awkward cardboard box and a duffle bag into the room. Lydia offered her coffee and a Christmas pastry and joined her at the kitchen table.
“Thanks,” the woman glanced around the room nervous and hurried. She sipped her coffee with false calmness and stumbled over small talk.
“Now, Ms. Lana, I’m happy to have you here. But I don’t think you made the cold trip from Ashton for my coffee.”
An anxious laugh escaped as Ms. Lana geared up. “I know you’re looking for Ivy. The police brought my car back and I’ve been worried about her ever since. I let her borrow the car, to get out while her stepfather was still steamed.”
“I knew I recognized the car. You must have let her borrow it for tutoring sessions.” Ms. Lana nodded and blushed.
“I’ve been watching Don’s house, hoping she’ll come up the walk. I haven’t seen her, but I saw the mean creep toss out this stuff.” She motioned to her baggage. “It’s not anything useful, but a couple photos and an old quilt. But I recognized them as Ms. Annie’s.”
“Why did you bring them here?”
“Ivy and Ms. Annie spoke of you, often. I figured, you’re probably Ivy’s last safe place."
Lydia knew it was a complement, but it jabbed at her conscience. Maybe she had been a safe place for Ivy and Ivy had been waiting only to be noticed. Lydia had failed to see a girl in need and only saw a teenager with normal attitude.
The ladies continued to chat for a long hour. They speculated on Ivy’s whereabouts and the involvement of Martin Levere. Lydia sent Ms. Lana on her way with an open-hearted invitation to come visit again. They were at the door when the baby monitor crackled. “Oh,” Ms. Lana winked. “So, Ivy has been around?”
“What makes you say so?”
*****
Preacher Steven prayed over the community and then invited Sam up to the podium to give his speech. To Kat’s surprise and jubilation, Sam remembered all his lines. He stood tall and gave great care to each word in the text. He emoted and made eye contact. All her fretting had been over nothing. Her son was trying to impress his mother and his friends with his wit and joking, but when needed took his role to heart.
She was so proud of him and so softened by the praises of the surrounding crowd, she couldn’t imagine how she ever allowed herself to grow so grumpy over celebrating Christmas. She felt the latecomer slide into the pew before she spotted them. Intent on Sam, her attention did not allow for additional input.
When she gazed at the guest, she nearly flew off the pew sideways. Ivy Hooper sat, shivering, two yards away from Kat. She wore a jersey hoodie, not adept at keeping out the December chill, ratty jeans and boots. Her once electric blue locks, were now a dingy greenish gray. Her skin was pale, saving for the dark circles under her eyes and the fading bruise on her left cheek. Her lips trembled, and she released a weak whimper. Kat swung her leg off the pew and scooted closer to the teen. Ivy jumped, skittish and solemn.
“You look cold.” Understating, Kat took the excuse to fling her new quilt around the girl’s shoulders.
“Thanks.” Ivy managed, still shivering.
“No problem.” Kat waited for the girl to warm, watching her in her peripherals. Ivy was not slipping out the door without Kat trailing after her. As her shaking slowed, Ivy searched the room distraught with concern. “Looking for someone?”
“Sort of.” Ivy shrugged. “I was hoping someone would be here. But I don’t see them.”
Braving a closer scoot, Kat slid down the pew and landed shoulder to shoulder with the lost girl. “Lydia?”
Ivy’s eyes scanned the probing thirty something. “Sure.” She answered. “She's here?”
Kat shook her head, and the teen removed the borrowed blanket. “She stayed home with the baby.”
*****
Ms. Lana returned indoors at Lydia’s eager prompting. She helped herself to another cup of coffee while Lydia retrieved the awakening Bea. She watched while her hostess heated a bottle and nestled the little one against her shoulder.
“Is she hers?” Ms. Lana peeked over at the tiny face yawning and stretching before latching on to the bottle nipple.
“Whose?”
“You’re real funny. Ivy’s, of course. That girl may have hid her condition from everyone else, but no one can hide from me. I have a sixth sense for pregnant mama’s. I figured she’d been due about two weeks ago.” Lana stroked a tiny hand and cooed at the baby. “Why she up and told Don I’ll never understand.”
Livid, Lydia snapped, “Don knew and said nothing.”
“Oh, he said plenty. Just not to us. This baby is the whole reason he kicked Ivy out. Terrible thing to do but not the worst he’s capable of.”
Lydia’s head swirled with new thoughts. All this time, her pupil had been hiding her pregnancy. Lydia hadn’t noticed. She’d was too wrapped up in her own loneliness and couldn’t see anyone else’s. She asked the Lord to forgive her ignorance and apathy as she kissed Bea’s sweet head. The Father granted Lydia nine months of chances to rescue Ivy and her child. Nine months, to see someone else’s pain other than own and she had failed. God had protected the baby, despite Lydia’s stubborn ignorance. She prayed, begging for Ivy's safety.
“Nine months.” She repeated out loud. Ms. Lana looked at her new friend. “Around the time Ms. Annie passed.”
Ms. Lana nodded, following Lydia’s thoughts. “Yep, that was when Ivy moved in with that jerk from the mall. Only lasted two weeks, but I guess things like this only take one night.”
*****
Ivy turned to Kat, chancing eye contact. “Baby?” She croaked.
Flora turned to check on Kat in time to catch Ivy’s eye. Flora waved, at the girl, a little too excited to greet the acquaintance. Ivy returned the wave, letting the quilt fall to her waist. Kat noticed Flora’s eyes widen and her smile stretch across her face. She followed her gaze and noticed the small pools on the front of Ivy’s hoodie.
“Yes,” Kat chimed filled with wonder, “your baby?” Ivy startled, her mind arguing with itself as her body decided running away was out of the question. She was spent, sore, starving, and close to frozen. “Lydia, has your baby. She’s safe and warm and beautiful.”
The artifice that allowed Ivy to survive the last month alone, collapsed in a clamor of crying. Kat tugged the girl’s head to her shoulder, while Flora circled the pew and held her from the other side. The encircled embrace lasted until Ivy could breathe without blubbering.
“You ready to go see your little girl?” Flora asked. She texted Kevin and escorted both Ivy and Kat to her truck.
Chapter 12
Lydia welcomed Ivy with a bear hug. Ivy stiffened, abrasive and defensive but her exhaustion and burden were too heavy to ignore and she sobbed into the embrace. Kat and Flora ushered the distraught youth into the house.
Kat hobbled around from closet to closet. First, she gathered clean towels and set them in the bathroom. Then she invaded Joan’s room, with Lydia’s blessing, for some clean clothes. She laid them beside the fresh towels. After that she was too winded from rushing about on crutches to be much more help and resigned herself to two kitchen chairs, one for her bum and one for her foot.
Meanwhile, Flora busied herself in the kitchen. She set bone broth on the stove and made drop biscuits. She tossed some roasted chicken into the broth along with a can of mixed veggies and swayed as she stirred.
Lydia guided Ivy to the master bedroom where Bea slept in the second-hand Moses basket. Ivy’s sorrow amplified at the sight of her slumbering daughter. Her legs wouldn’t hold her and she rested beside the basket on the bed. Without a clue what to do next she placed a hand on the baby’s tummy and soothed herself with the rise and fall of Bea’s breath.
“I’m all dirty.” She whispered, as if the words applied to more than just her clothing. Lydia followed her thoughts and put a hand on her shaking shoulders.
“We all are, baby. We all are.”
At Ivy’s request, Lydia sat next to the steamy shower on a stool. Ivy was dizzy with hunger, fright, and stress. She doubted she was strong enough stand through the entire shower. Flora, without a pump nearby, explained how to express built up breast milk under the hot water. The pressure relief was immediate and overwhelming.
Bundled in clean sweats and an oversized t-shirt, Ivy sipped on Flora’s soup and nibbled on a couple biscuits. She was hungry but her throat wouldn’t let her swallow as quickly as her stomach wanted. She'd gone too long without a real meal.
No one questioned her as she ate. No one spoke. They each supported the new mother with their silent service and expectations of her needs. Still refusing to hold Bea, Ivy slid into the guest bed and its clean smelling blankets and breathed her first relaxed breath in months. The running was over. What happened next, only God knew, she would let Him handle it.
Lydia shut the bedroom door. Ivy was already sleeping. Bea stirred and Lydia hurried to her, so she would not awaken her mother. Flora and Kat snoozed on the couch but came to full attention when Lydia brought Bea into the room.
“Any guesses what Ivy will do?” Flora asked.
Lydia only shrugged and fed the little one in her arms.
“Will Gus have to bring Ivy in for abandonment?”
“I'm not sure. But I don’t think so. I think he has enough of the story to weed out the true villains.”
“I sure hope so.” Flora added, kneading her hands and rocking.
“I guess it depends on Ivy. I mean she might still split. This may have been a huge uncomfortable coincidence. She might have never intended to come back for Bea.”
Flora gasped but Lydia smiled. “No, I bet she’ll stay. She had forty weeks to decide differently and instead she braved childbirth. She'll brave motherhood. She’ll just need a lot of coaching and a lot of love."
*****
Lydia soothed the infant as she stirred breakfast. Once downstairs with the baby, she turned on the tree lights and adjusted the thermostat. Frost decorated the sliding glass door in the dining room. Anyday the delicate frost would become ice. She re-wrapped Bea into burrito form and snuggled her into the portable basinet by the couch. Ivy slept on.
Lydia decided food was the first job of the day. She would make pumpkin flap jacks and a red pepper frittata. She tied on a cheesy Christmas apron and started gathering ingredients. Cracking eggs and whipping batter, she prayed. “Father, show me how to be a friend to Ivy. A better friend than I’ve been so far. Give me the strength to represent you and not throw stones.” Pepper and ginger flavored the air. Right on cue Bea wriggled at the sound of the coffee pot finishing its brew.
Ivy stumbled down the stairs, wearing the quilt like a robe. She didn’t speak, just scanned the room. “C’mon, Mama.” Lydia called to her without turning. “She’s ready for breakfast. I didn’t want to wake you.” Ivy sat sore and scared. Lydia locked eyes with her guest. “We’ve got a lot to talk about today. But for now, relax. When you’re ready, we’ll eat.” Bea stopped sucking, cooed, and craned her neck. “She knows you’re here.” Ivy’s eyes sparkled and then saddened.
“She just has gas.” Ivy’s voice crackled and squeaked.
“Nope. Look at her. She knows you.” The baby twisted in Lydia’s arms. “She recognizes your voice. She’s missed you.” Tears escaped onto Ivy’s cheeks. “You want to try feeding her?” She shook her blue green hair. “Okay, I’ll heat up a bottle. Maybe we’ll try, later.”
“Maybe.”
Lydia coaxed Bea to finish her bottle before handing her off to her mother. Ivy took the baby into her arms and then squeezed the tiny girl close to her face. She smiled and cried and smiled and cried, kissing her daughter’s dimples, fingertips, and eyelids. Lydia placed a gentle hand on Ivy’s knee and waited. Happy Ivy loved her baby, Lydia settled into a sense of peace. This mama wasn’t leaving her girl a second time.
When the reconciliation was over and Ivy laid her child back down to sleep, the teen turned bloodshot eyes toward her host. “You said there was breakfast?”
Lydia hopped to her feet and tossed opened the oven. “If I haven’t cremated it! Take a seat at the table; we’ll chat as we eat. You want coffee, orange juice, almond milk, or water?”
“Coffee sounds great. But it’s not good for her, is it?” Ivy didn’t take her eyes off the couch until Lydia set down the full plate of pancakes and frittata. “I’ll take water, please. And thank you.” Lydia smiled and slid into the seat next to Ivy. Her plate was as full as the teen’s. The day would need a lot of comfort food and require a lot of energy.
“I’ll make more if we run out.” Ivy had scarfed down three cakes before Lydia handed over the powdered sugar. “So, I don’t want to push you, but I’m a mother and a nosey lady and I will expect you to give me the full scoop. In your time, but the entire story.”
Ivy shifted. The food was too delicious to ignore and too available to pass up. She trusted Lydia. Lydia was always kind to her, tutoring her for free, letting her come at odd hours, and giving her a warm place to sleep. She had taken care of her baby and even found breast milk for her. But her husband was the sheriff. They could take her baby away whenever they wanted. They might lock her away for stealing, and again for abandoning her baby. Would she buy Ivy’s story or would she kick her out too? Ivy refilled her plate before deciding.
“Her name’s Scout.”
“Scout? I like that. It suits her.”
Ivy smiled, unrestrained. “It does, doesn’t it?”
She shuddered and sighed before she resolved to share her secrets. “I found out I was pregnant and hid it as long as possible. But I got scared. On Thanksgiving, I decided to ask Don for help. Instead, he kicked me out because I would not get rid of it. Didn’t matter I was too far along for that.” Lydia didn’t flinch. She sipped her coffee and listened. “I had no other options. So, I visited my ex at his work. I hoped he’d give me a place to stay, though I knew it was hopeless. He said he’d let me stay with him for, but he wanted sex and I wouldn't give it to him. Didn’t want to give it to him. So…”
“He kicked you out too.” Ivy took a gigantic chunk of egg and chewed, trying to swallow her rage and sadness along with her breakfast.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I drove Ms. Lana’s bug to Honey Pot hoping to find help. I talked with my friend Emily but her situation was hard enough. I didn’t even tell her about the baby. I tried the B.F.F. There was always something happening. I poked around and found the storage attic. Nothing but boxes and dust. Still, it was warmer than outside.”
“Not much.”
“No, not much. I made a nook out of boxes and a bed out of some quilts and slept on the floor. After the first night, I was freezing.” Lydia shrugged a response. They would talk about the quilts later. “I ventured out during the day and did my best to be back before someone locked up.”
She pushed her plate away and shivered. “I got locked outside once.” The light in her eyes settled back into her mind. Ivy was far away remembering something she deemed unnecessary to share. Lydia reached over and squeezed her hand in encouragement and comfort. Such a simple gesture and tears jetted from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why I’m crying.”
“Baby girl, you’ve been through a lot. You’re a sixteen-year-old girl and you gave birth. Childbirth always messes with a woman’s hormones. Get used to it. For a while, you will be a mood swinging mess,” Lydia took the girl’s shoulders into her hands. Ivy jumped, breaking Lydia’s heart. She backed away, lowering her arms but not her gaze. She stared right into Ivy’s eyes with as much strength and softness as she could fo
rce into them. “If you’d like, I’d love to be here for you while you’re going through it.”
Hope flashed and vanished from the new mother’s face. Scout whimpered. “It’s almost time to feed her again.”
“Could you show me how?” Embarrassed Ivy nodded to her chest.
“I’ll do my best. And if you and I can’t figure it out, I know someone who can.”
*****
Kat’s family donned their traditional Christmas Eve pajamas, their slippers, winter coats, and beanies. They piled stacks of wrapped presents in the back of their van and laid trays of Christmas breakfast treats next to them. Since discovering Scout, Kat had stepped away from school work and service “obligations” and poured her heart back into her own family. She spent her spare moments in scripture reflection and contemplative prayer. In trying to become the perfect Christian wife and leader, she’d become a Pharisee and a pouty pants. She judged volunteers and non-volunteers and everyone fell short compared to her glorious glow of godliness.
In her season of spiritual headiness, she let a lot of important issues slide. She failed to notice the hurting girl gone missing. She failed to understand Lydia’s loneliness and worry. She failed to care whether Flora was making ends meet. She failed to love her family, her Savior, and herself. She’d honored only their service to her and her self-made notoriety. No more, she vowed.
Late Christmas Eve night, early Christmas morning the Millers drove across town. They buzzed with the secret and the energy of sacrifice. Each child and parent selected some of their own gifts to relinquish in the name of love. Nervous her children were being forced to give up their presents, Kat had not asked them to take part in such a way. Glad, to have their mom back and happy to be helpful Sam and Jess had volunteered to give their Christmas away. The truth that Ever and Eden were their best friends made their choice much less complicated.
Thaddeus and Kat had also surrendered their stocking gifts, generic gender specific frivolities, for their friends. Flora and Kevin would be the first to refuse such blessings. Two of the humblest people in Honey Pot, they strove to savor joy in giving and receiving often embarrassed them. A break-in was the only way to share with them, without making things awkward.