It Took a Rumor

by Carter Ashby

  “Honey, is something bothering you?”

  She looked up. Richard stood at the edge of the room. He rarely came in. Through some unwritten agreement they’d decided that this room was her private space. Richard had always respected that. “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You seem distracted. Upset.”

  “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Honey, I’m worried.”

  “Well, don’t be,” she snapped.

  Richard stepped into the room. He took her by the arm and led her down to the sofa. “I’m worried about us.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I think you know what’s wrong.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!” she snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply, struggling to control her temper. “I’m sorry,” she said more calmly. “I just need some time alone.”

  Richard sighed. Instead of leaving, he leaned back in the chair. “One of my jobs as a pastor is to counsel people. I counsel a lot of couples. Molly, honey, something’s not right between us, and I don’t know what. If it’s something I’ve done, I wish you would tell me.”

  Molly tried to push the guilt away. Usually this wasn’t a problem with her, but this time, she couldn’t manage it. She fought as hard as she could, but still ended up weeping into her hands.

  “Molly, talk to me. I promise, there’s nothing you could tell me that would make me love you less.”

  “Oh, Richard!” she cried. She turned into his arms. He held her. Rocked her. Kissed the top of her head.

  And then her phone buzzed in her pocket.

  Boone waited until everyone was asleep. He hadn’t been planning on contacting Molly anymore. He’d been getting kind of bored with her, truth be told. But after three days and no luck at the bars that weekend, he was beginning to get the itch. Besides which, all the tension at the dinner table gave him that antsy feeling of wanting to run away or do something bad.

  Granted, screwing the preacher’s wife had become rather blasé, it was still the baddest thing he was doing at the moment. He texted her and waited. After about fifteen minutes, she texted back.

  Where do you want to meet? She asked.

  Motel?

  Someone will recognize my car.

  Use Ivy’s truck.

  The phone rang. “Hey, beautiful,” Boone answered.

  “Richard’s getting suspicious.”

  “You want to cool things off for a while?”

  “Honestly, Boone, I thought we already had. I thought you were done with me.”

  He flicked a piece of lint off his jeans. “No, baby, of course not. How could you even think that?”

  “It’s just you haven’t called—”

  “I’ve been really busy. But I’ve been thinking of you the whole time.”

  He heard her sigh. And sniffle. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’d thought she was cool, but if she was getting too attached, he should let her go. When she spoke again, it was in a soft voice. “Okay, I can meet you tomorrow night. I’ll see if Ivy can help me, and I’ll text you a time and place.”

  “Perfect. I can’t wait.”

  “Me, either. Boone?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I just want you to know…you mean so much to me. So much.”

  “Uh, yeah. You do too, babe. See you tomorrow.” He hung up, tossed his phone on the nightstand, and went into the bathroom to take a shower before bed.

  Part 3: Tangled Webs

  Myra’s Blog

  As promised, I have some inside information to share. But who would have thought Sunday would yield such drama?

  Ivy Turner has now been spotted in public with two of the four Deathridge boys, which narrows things down considerably. Of course, Ivy is a modern girl. Perhaps she’s seeing them all. In any case, the most likely candidate is the bestower of a very public kiss…one Dallas Deathridge. Although it does appear to have been a goodbye kiss. Is our Ivy broken hearted? Or will she simply move on to the next brother? Time will tell.

  But folks, that’s not what I want to talk about today. It’s come to my attention that there might be more to the Turner/Deathridge rivalry than a patch of land and a daughter of ill repute. I can’t say for certain, but my vast experience when it comes to angry, competitive men, says that there is a woman involved. Did the two men once battle over little Clara Deathridge? Or was it the lovely Penelope, rest her soul?

  As always, I’m thrilled to hear from my viewers if anyone has information on this or any other juicy topics.

  Ta-ta, for now!

  Ivy’s relationship with Tim, her boyfriend from Tulsa, had been a practical affair. They’d spent two years having practical conversations and practical sex and practical goodbyes. It wasn’t in her nature to behave in a dreamy manner. But the next day, no matter how she tried, she could not come down off the high of being in Jake’s arms. So she stubbed her toe, locked her keys in her truck, forgot the main thing she went to the grocery store for, and just overall botched the day. Edna at work didn’t say anything, but she cast Ivy occasional, suspicious glances.

  It was through sheer force of will that Ivy refrained from calling Jake, or even sneaking over to his ranch to find him and throw herself at him. No, she was determined to be a lady and wait for him to pay proper suit. Still, if she’d known what obstacles were about to present themselves, she might have thrown her principles to the wind and seized the impulse.

  Her first hint of trouble happened that evening. At six, she started dinner preparations. It was a quiet time for her, her father still out with the cattle while she put together a heart-healthy dinner for him. Tonight it was a thin slice of marinated chicken breast with a side of arugula salad and whole grain croutons. The great thing about cooking for her father was that the meals were in line with her own dietary preferences. Although she did occasionally sneak out for a pizza now and then.

  As she was plating dinner, there was a knock at her front door. Rather, a pounding. She hurried to open it, finding Reno Yates, one of her ranch hands, frantic and out of breath. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you. There was a fight at the bunk house. Jordan’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  “Oh, my God. Can he be moved? Do we need…”

  Just then, Reno stepped aside, making way for three men. Two were ranch hands with Jordan’s arms over their shoulders, practically dragging him between them as blood poured from his nose down his mouth and chin. Ivy rushed into action. She ran to the laundry room where she had a basket of towels fresh from the dryer. She grabbed an armful and covered the couch. The boys lowered Jordan while Ivy wet one of the towels to start cleaning up Jordan’s face.

  “Is there anything besides the broken nose?” she asked, cleaning Jordan as gently as she could.

  “I don’t think so,” Jordan rasped.

  “If he doesn’t have a broken rib or two, they’ll at the very least be severely bruised,” Reno said.

  “Let’s get him cleaned up and to the hospital,” Ivy said. “One of you guys call the police.”

  Jordan shook his head. “No police. It’s just a fight.”

  “It’s assault. You’ll press charges, of course.”

  “No. Come on, Miss Ivy. Let’s just handle it among us. Please.”

  She looked into his blood-shot, watery eyes. Men. Of course, it would be a whole lot easier if they did handle it themselves, but Jordan deserved justice. She’d better figure out what happened first.

  Having got the worst of the blood off Jordan’s face, Ivy reclined him against the arm of the sofa with an ice pack and a whole lot of tissues. Then she turned, took in a deep breath, and faced the three ranch hands. “All right. Spill.”

  The two behind Reno ducked their heads and shuffled their feet. Reno cleared his throat. “Beau and Wylie.”

  Ivy nodded, not at all surprised. “Okay. So how did it start?”

  For this, Reno looked to Jordan, who closed his eyes and said, “They found some gay porn on my phone.”


  “Why did they have your phone?”

  “Beau just grabbed it from me. Wanted to check baseball scores or something.”

  Ivy sighed. It was all the more reason for them to handle things in-house. Spare poor Jordan the embarrassment of being outed to the whole town. “You’re sure you don’t want to press charges?”

  “What would they do, a couple nights in jail? Pay a fine? Not worth it. Just leave it, Miss Ivy.”

  She studied him to make sure he was serious. Then she nodded. “Okay. Well, let’s get you to the hospital and checked out. Terry, you and Billy wait here for Jared. When he gets back, give him the whole story, okay?”

  “No hospital. It’s just a broken nose,” Jordan said.

  “We want to be sure there’s no other head injury.”

  Jordan started to object again.

  “It’s non-negotiable, Jordan. I’m your employer and I won’t risk it. Reno, you’ll come with us?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reno said.

  The guys helped Jordan to the truck while Ivy gathered her purse and keys.

  On the ride there, as Ivy drove, Reno cleared his throat again. “Uh, so, are you really gay?” he asked.

  Ivy bit her tongue as Jordan turned and glared at his coworker.

  Reno put his hands up. “I’m not judging. I got a cousin who’s gay. Of course, she’s a lesbian, so it’s kind of hot.”

  Jordan dropped his head back and pressed the ice pack to the bridge of his nose. “You’re an asshole.”

  Reno laughed. “Yeah, but that’s what you like, right? Assholes?”

  “Jesus, Reno,” Ivy said, though she found herself fighting back laughter.

  When Jordan started laughing, it gave Ivy and Reno permission to let loose. By the time it was over, Reno was giving Jordan’s shoulder a friendly squeeze and promising to watch out for him on the ranch from now on. Ivy didn’t tell him it was completely unnecessary. Beau and Wylie would be gone by morning.

  At the hospital, Reno and Ivy sat in the waiting room while a doctor examined Jordan. Ivy decided it wasn’t her place to contact Cody, so she waited until the doctor was finished and went into Jordan’s room.

  “Will they do X-rays?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that’s next.” His voice sounded restrained. The swelling in his nose made him sound like he had a bad cold. Ivy could barely look at him. The bruising spread beneath his eyes and over his nose.

  “I was wondering if there’s anyone you want me to contact?”

  “You mean my folks? No way. This’ll be all healed up before I see them next. Thank you, though.”

  “Okay. What about Cody?”

  Jordan’s head snapped to the side as he frowned at her. “No. Thank you.”

  Ivy bit her bottom lip. “I can’t help thinking he’d like to be here for you.”

  Jordan laughed bitterly and looked away. “Nah. That’s over. But thank you for thinking of it.”

  Ivy might have argued, but the guy was so damned polite. She simply said, “You’re welcome,” and returned to the waiting room.

  All told, they spent almost five hours in the ER. The X-rays revealed two cracked ribs. Reno reminded Ivy that Beau wore steel-toed boots. The image hit Ivy with clarity, and her emotions suddenly burst through the protective layer of shock that had helped her remain so level-headed. She took Jordan home, giving him a room in the main house for the night. Once he was settled, she went with Reno and her father, who kindly let her be the one to fire Beau and Wylie.

  The two men argued with her, which only fueled her anger. By the time she was finished with them, they were packing their things and starting the long walk to the bus station in town. Ivy wasn’t sure if they feared her or were simply anxious to get away from the crazy screaming lady, but either way, she felt better.

  Unfortunately, it was nearly eleven by the time she got showered and settled into her bedroom. All afternoon, she’d harbored the hope of another connection with Jake. But he’d have gone to bed hours ago so he could be up at the crack of dawn to work and sweat and just generally be the man he was meant to be. Still, with a sigh, Ivy lay back on her bed and lifted her phone screen. She pushed the home button and smiled.

  I wanna see you.

  The text had come three hours ago. It must have disappointed him not to receive a text back. At least she hoped it did. She hoped he stared at his phone a good fifteen minutes before setting it aside. And then stopped to check it every time he walked by it throughout the evening. And then lay in bed staring at the ceiling just hoping and yearning. Poor man! He could very well be awake and torturing himself.

  Ivy started texting him back, but jumped when the phone rang in her hand. She tapped the green button and pressed it to her ear, smiling in spite of her best efforts to remain calm. “Hello,” she said. She almost said, “Hello, Jake,” since she hadn’t seen the name on the screen.

  “Ivy, it’s Boone.”

  Her anticipatory fervor vanished. “What do you want?” she snapped, more harshly than was necessary.

  “Is Molly at your place?”

  “No, Boone. Why are you still seeing her? I thought that had fizzled.”

  “Shit,” he muttered. “She was supposed to meet me an hour ago. She was gonna walk up to the covered bridge from her house, and then I was going to pick her up.”

  “So she decided not to come. What’s the big deal?”

  “She’s not answering her phone.”

  “Boone, she’s probably changed her mind. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea, right?”

  “I’d feel better if I knew she was okay. You’re right, it’s not that big of a deal. But she’s never failed to show up or answer her phone. So, I mean, could you check on her?”

  Ivy sighed. “I’ll call her in the morning. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll drive by and see.”

  Silence.

  “Boone, seriously, it’s almost midnight.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Fine. Stay there. I’ll call you back.”

  Ivy hung up, found Molly’s number, and called. No answer. She thought about calling Richard, but what was she going to say? Hey, Richard, your wife failed to show up to meet her lover, do you happen to know where she is?

  She lay in bed, hoping her phone would ring. After a while, though, she sat up and swung her legs out of bed. It was ridiculous. Nothing. Molly was likely sleeping soundly in her room. Besides, if she knocked on the door, Ivy would be confronted with the same dilemma as a phone call: what to say to Richard.

  Even so, she dressed and quietly slipped out of the house. Her father slept on the opposite side of the house on the second floor. A jackhammer couldn’t wake him up between the hours of ten and four.

  Ivy drove towards the parsonage. It was weird being out at night. It took more effort, maybe because she was tired, or maybe because the whole world was asleep. But as she drove, she only got sleepier and more doubtful of her actions. It just didn’t feel right.

  She parked at the church building, got out, and walked the little trail through the woods that led to the house. Naturally, all the lights were off. Molly’s car was in the driveway next to Richard’s. Ivy hesitated at the edge of the front lawn. The night air cut right through her sweatpants and t-shirt. The grass was wet and so was the air, dampening her skin and chilling her to her bones.

  Some of the windows in the house were open. Perhaps she could get a peek inside. She took one step and stopped. Nope. This was going too far. She wouldn’t trespass to assuage her curiosity. She would simply wait until morning like a sane person.

  Retreating into the woods, she called Boone.

  “Find her?” he asked.

  “I was going to peek in the windows of her house, but figured that was going too far. Her car’s here. The lights are out. I’ll just check on her in the morning.”

  “Ivy, please. Just see if she’s in there.”

  “I can knock on the door, but it’s going to look pretty weird.�
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  “Don’t. Don’t knock. Just go look in the window.”

  Ivy sighed. “If she’s home, she’s home. If she’s not, what do you want to do?”

  “I’ll keep looking for her. If something happened to her because she was walking through the woods alone in the dark to meet me, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what? Suddenly sprout a conscience?”

  He sighed. “Please. Please just look.”

  She hung up again, took a breath, and used the flashlight function to work her way around the edge of the yard to the side of the house. She’d been to Molly’s plenty of times and knew exactly where the bedroom was. As she got closer to the house, she turned off her phone light, fought to control her breathing, and tip-toed up to the window.

  Fortunately, a shaft of moonlight shone straight into the open window and onto the bed. Unfortunately, Molly wasn’t there. What was more, neither was Richard. The bed was made and not a sign of anyone in the room.

  Ivy backed away, frowning. She pulled out her phone to text Boone. She barely heard the footsteps rushing up behind her before something blunt slammed into her head. The rest was blackness.

  Ivy woke up to bright lights and the wrong Deathridge brother gazing down at her with deep concern.

  “And you say she fell?” asked a female voice.

  “Yeah. We were getting kind of rowdy, dancing. I spun her, she fell, hit her head on the corner of a table,” Boone said. “She gonna be okay?”

  “Let’s check her out. Ivy?”

  Ivy turned her eyes to the female voice. “I was just here,” she said, because it was true. Hadn’t she just been in the hospital with Jordan?

  “Let’s get you sitting up.”

  The doctor and Boone pulled on her arms. She laughed as they pulled her upright. The room seemed to rock. “Are we on a ship?”

  “Is this normal?” Boone asked.

  “Confusion is a symptom of a concussion. Ivy, I need you to focus on my finger and follow it with your eyes.”

  Ivy squinted and followed the doctor’s movements. “I’m getting seasick.”