Something Lovely

by Brooke St. James

  Dad came into the kitchen, smiling and shaking his head. "I've found that little girl's signature in about twenty different places in the house," he said. "I went to fix a hinge on a cabinet the other day, and there it was, plain as day on the inside edge of the cabinet door, I-V-Y in black marker."

  Everyone laughed, and I smiled and shrugged innocently. I found a spot to lean against the counter at the edge of the kitchen near the drink station. Shug had an area set up with a pitcher of sweet tea, a pitcher of water, a two-liter of Sprite, and a stack of plastic cups. There was a Sharpie near the cups, and everyone had another laugh when Mom told me to write my name on my cup.

  I poured myself some iced tea, and as I was setting the pitcher down, a stack of papers caught my eye. Shug and Doozy had a small desk at the end of their kitchen, near the place where she had the drinks set up. It was a catchall and often contained their mail, their keys, Shug's purse, and anything else that would fit on it.

  There was a stack of papers sitting on the edge, and I blinked as I stared at it. It was some official paperwork for the motorcycle company. I knew this because the logo was front and center.

  It wasn't the logo that caught my eye, though. It was the writing underneath it. I would know it anywhere. Straight as an arrow, perfectly neat, block print—all caps. It even had the right kind of "E's"… the ones where the top line was a little too short and didn’t quite touch the vertical line.

  Chapter 11

  A great number of bodily sensations happened all at once.

  My heart began racing.

  My eyes burned and blurred.

  I felt a jittery, fluttering sensation in my chest like I couldn’t catch my breath. I experienced a burst of adrenaline, and I was doing nothing but standing still.

  I was stunned and confused as I stared down at the paper. It had been over a year since I had found that note in the front seat of my car, but I had looked at it what must have been a hundred times. I read it every day for the first month, and since then, I had read it as needed for strength and encouragement, or simply to put a smile on my face. I thought of it as lovely and excellent because reading it always made me think of that verse, which brought those words to mind. That being said, I had read that dang letter enough times to know the handwriting—the perfect, all-caps handwriting with the tell-tale "E's".

  Why was the handwriting on this Bishop Motorcycles paperwork? Had my father written the letter? That thought gave me the weirdest feeling. Had my dad even known about Derek when I got that letter? No, Kade was the only person I had told.

  I experienced a rush of emotions as I blinked at it. What was this, anyway? It seemed to be a cover letter of some sort. It contained serial numbers along with surface level information about a motorcycle—a new model maybe.

  Courtney asked me a question about work, and I answered it. I was entirely preoccupied, but I did my best to engage with her.

  Had my father written that letter? I thought back to it. Things like 'you deserve someone who would never betray you', would be something he would say, but other parts, like 'maybe forgiveness is the route you should take'—that was not something my dad would say if he knew what had happened. In fact, now that I was thinking about it, I remembered his reaction a few days later when I told him. I remembered how enraged he was at Derek. Had he been pretending that whole time?

  I thought about sifting through the pages to see if I could see more, but I had never taken the liberty of going through my family's personal things, even if they were sitting out in plain sight. There was only one thing for me to do. I had to ask someone about it.

  Shug was busy talking to Taylor about her pork roast recipe, so I glanced around for other options. My grandfather had gone into the living room, and I walked in there as casually as possible. I still felt breathless, shaken, and utterly confused.

  "Hey Dooz," I said, calling him the shortened version of his name.

  "Hey baby," he said.

  He put his arm around me, rubbing my shoulder and smiling at me as if he was happy that I had walked over there to stand next to him. I started to make small talk with him so that it didn't seem like I was anxious, but I was just too anxious to pretend I wasn't anxious.

  "Hey, what is that over there on the desk?" I asked.

  "What is it, baby?" he asked, looking around curiously.

  I pointed toward the catchall in the kitchen. "There's some papers in there," I said. "It's Bishop stuff." I glanced at him, and he squinted curiously as he regarded the desk, looking like he was trying to figure out what I was talking about. "There's a whole stack of papers on the desk," I continued. "It looks like some information about a motorcycle or something."

  He took a second to think about it, and then he shook his head like he just wasn't sure. "Why don't you bring it to me?" he said.

  I flinched, starting to take off to the kitchen in order to retrieve the papers, but he gave my shoulders a squeeze.

  "Oh, oh, oh, I think I know what you're talking about," he said. "That's that new model. It's the contract on that new one, the, uh, Ace. We're gonna make the Ace LT and MT models," he added with a smile.

  "Well, who, uh, who wrote on it?" I asked. "On the front of the paper."

  I felt so awkward asking that question. It was something I would've never normally noticed or asked about.

  "Whatcha mean?" he asked, sweetly curious, but having no idea what I was asking. He was trying his best, but he simply wasn't answering me quickly enough. I motioned with my hand in the air like I was holding a pen and writing with it.

  "The handwriting," I said "There's handwriting on the front of that paperwork. It's printed. It's just capital letters. Who wrote that?"

  "Oh, that must have been, uh, Luke. If we're talking about the same thing. He's the one who designed those bikes. That's why it's called the LT, for London Town. He lives over there in London. He designed a MT model with some modifications. MT is for Memphis Town." Doozy smiled as if this detail pleased him. "That one's more of a ladies' bike—a little smaller than the LT. They're both real nice. I think they're gonna be top sellers for us next year."

  I really couldn’t even hear or comprehend the things he was saying. I had stopped listening after he said the word Luke. Was he talking about Jolene's brother? My mind was racing as I tried to remember the details of getting that note. Luke had been at my house when everything went down with Derek, but he didn't know about it. There was no way he could've…

  "He had the choice between a cash prize and commission from the models sold. He opted for the commission." Doozy smiled and gestured toward the desk. "That's what that contract's all about. Your mama helped our lawyers draw it up. He's smart. If that bike does as well as I think it will, that boy's about to get rich."

  "Are you talking about Jolene's brother?" I asked, beginning to physically shake. I was breathless and my voice came out too high-pitched.

  He stared down at me with a little grin as he nodded. "He won that contest," he said. "There were three finalists, but it was really down to him and this boy in L.A. who designed a big cruiser." He shook his head. "We didn't even know who the designers were when we chose the winner. It was unbiased. It was a total coincidence that Wes's wife was related to the winner." He grinned. "Your dad said he remembered him saying he was gonna win it."

  "So, for sure that's his handwriting on those papers?" I asked.

  "I think so," he said. "If we're thinking of the same thing. Why?"

  "Oh, no reason. I just thought I recognized it and I… I thought maybe dad wrote it."

  Doozy shook his head. "I don't think so, baby. Not if you're talking about that contract over there on the desk."

  "Okay, y'all can come pray and make plates!" Shug yelled from the kitchen.

  Doozy gave my shoulders another squeeze, assuming we'd go into the kitchen with everybody else. I smiled at him, and we made or way in that direction. Everyone bowed their heads, and Doozy blessed our meal, thanking God for food, and family, a
nd the opportunity to share a life together.

  People lined up in the kitchen and began making their own plates just as soon as he finished. I was still confused, trying to reconcile the similarities in handwriting from someone who didn't even know what happened with Derek and me.

  "Is this what you were talking about?" Doozy asked, pointing at the stack of papers on the desk.

  I was glad he drew attention to it. I wanted to ask about it again, but I didn't want to be obvious.

  "Yes sir," I said, joining him casually. "I love that handwriting. I wish my handwriting was that good."

  Shelby was standing close by when I said that, and she said something about changing her own handwriting when she was in her twenties. I responded to her and we had a little exchange, but I was totally focused on trying to get another glimpse of the paperwork.

  "Can I look at it?" I asked.

  Doozy nodded. "You're welcome to look at it, sweetie, but there's no picture of the bike in there. It's just the contract and his bank information and everything."

  "That's that Ace model coming out next season," Owen said, coming to stand next to us as he moved up in line.

  "It's gonna sell like hotcakes," Dad said, looking over his shoulder. "It was really no contest between him and the other finalists. They were good, but we were almost unanimous voting for this one."

  "Jolene's gonna be excited when she hears," I said, trying to act nonchalant.

  "Oh, she already knows," Doozy said. "The contest was over a month ago."

  "She was thrilled," Dad added. "Her brother flew over here to celebrate."

  "When? He came over here? When was that? Recently?"

  "Not here," Mom said, overhearing us and offering an explanation. "He came to the U.S., but not to Memphis. He met Wes and Jo a few weeks back when Wes was playing on the East Coast. He and Jolene have family in Philadelphia, so he flew in to meet them there. I think he wanted to see Wes play and catch up with their grandparents."

  I felt frustrated that no one had thought to tell me that. But then again, why would they? I had gone to see Wes play in California and I didn't call Luke and tell him. Plus, I had been really busy with work and there were a lot of details I missed hearing about because of that.

  I thumbed through the paperwork even though it was really none of my business. I had to see more of that handwriting just to make sure. It was, no doubt-no question, the same handwriting that was on my note.

  My heart felt funny because of it.

  I remembered how I felt during those first weeks—I felt like I could be in love with the person who wrote it. I even tried to make myself be attracted to Kade.

  Then, I thought about Luke.

  I pictured his face, his handsome face with that gorgeous mouth and those dark eyes. I remembered conversations we had and how I loved his kind, forgiving spirit, and his grit and determination. He was funny and smart and everything I should have been looking for in a man. I thought of the way my heart sped up when he brushed up against me and how I had to will myself not to look at him, lest I fall into temptation. I suddenly had the feeling that I missed out on something great by not falling for Luke.

  Then I remembered that photograph of him with his girlfriend. The image of it flashed through my mind, and I felt nauseated. All of a sudden, Shug's pork roast didn't smell very appetizing. I was shaken to my very core—unsettled to say the least. I could not rest or think of anything else until I found out for sure if Luke was the one who had written that note.

  "I'll be right back," I said to no one in particular.

  There were so many people around and so much commotion that no one really cared that I was walking away. They just assumed that I was going to use the restroom. I went down the hall and into the spare bedroom where I took out my phone and dialed Jolene's number.

  I held the phone to my ear, praying she would answer. Usually, we communicated with texts, so I wasn't sure. It was the fourth ring when she finally picked up. I thought it was going to her voicemail, but then I heard her voice.

  "Hey Ivy, what's up?" she said.

  Adrenaline was coursing through me, and I paced the floors wondering what in the world I was going to say to her.

  I should have made a plan.

  "Hey, what are y'all doing?" I asked.

  "Just about to get some dinner," she said. "We're eating with Uncle Gray's family, and then they're all coming to the show."

  "Aw, that's cool," I said. "Tell them all 'hi' for me."

  "We will."

  I was going to ask her how they were doing or how she was feeling with the pregnancy, but I couldn’t resist getting right to the point.

  "I just heard about your brother winning that contest," I said.

  "Oh, yeah, isn't that awesome? He was so excited."

  "Doozy said it's a nice bike," I said.

  "I knew he'd win," she said. "He's talented and he's really passionate about motorcycles."

  "Mom said he met y'all in Philly to celebrate," I said. "I've been so busy with work that I didn't hear about it."

  "I know," Jolene said. "Your mom keeps us posted on all the work you're doing. I know you've been busy. We're all really proud of you."

  There was no tactful way to ask, but I had so many questions just bubbling up, ready to come out. How was Luke? What was he doing? Does he have a girlfriend? Was he capable of writing a magical note and leaving it in my car? I had to know. I couldn’t fake disinterest any longer.

  "JoJo, I think Luke might have left something at the house when he came to visit," I said. "I was wondering if I could get his phone number from you so I can call him and see."

  "Sure," she said. "I'll text you his number when we hang up."

  I was almost sure she'd ask what he left or question me further, but she didn't.

  "Thank you," I said. "Hug my brother and yourself for me, and my little niece or nephew, and tell Uncle Gray's family we said 'hi'."

  "I will. We miss you guys. We'll be home next week."

  "I can't wait," I said.

  We exchanged 'I love yous' and 'goodbyes' before hanging up.

  Seconds later, I got a text with Luke's contact information.

  Chapter 12

  I didn't hesitate.

  I didn't Google the time difference or anything. That didn't even cross my mind.

  I clicked on Jolene's text, saw Luke's contact information, and pressed the 'call' button. It was only after his phone rang three times that I remembered that it might be in the middle of the night over there.

  "Hello?"

  His deep voice answered, and my stomach tensed up at the sound of it. I was already nauseated, and now I was short of breath. I should have given myself a second to think of what I was going to say before I called. I could barely breathe.

  "Hello," I said. "I'm sorry. Is it the middle of the night over there?"

  "It's midnight," he said.

  I could hear some commotion, and I wondered where he was. Also, it sounded like he had a British accent.

  "Why, what time is it where you are?" he asked.

  He definitely had an accent.

  "Six," I said, hesitantly.

  "In the morning?" he asked.

  "Evening," I said.

  "Where are you calling from, exactly?"

  "The United States." I answered vaguely since I was relatively sure I wasn't talking to Luke, and I didn't want to give my location. "I'm trying to reach Luke Wright."

  "What's Luke doing getting a call from the United States?" the person asked, as if calling into the room.

  "It's probably his sister," I heard another man say.

  Then I heard, "What are you doing answering my phone?"

  There was some rustling around, and then there he was.

  "Hello?" he asked.

  No accent.

  It was Luke; I knew it.

  I was out of my head with nerves.

  I paced the floor.

  "Luke?" I said.

  "Yeah, han
g on. Let me… Is this Jo?"

  "No, it's not. Is it a bad time?"

  "No. It's fine. Who is this?"

  "It's Ivy Bishop."

  "Really?" I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made me smile.

  "Yes really."

  "How are you? Is everything okay with my sister?"

  "Yeah, she's fine. She's good. I just got off the phone with her."

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "I'm fine."

  I continued to hear commotion.

  "Where are you?" I asked.

  "One of our customers owns a pub over here in Chelsea. A bunch of us came over here to hang out and listen to some music. What's going on? It's good to hear from you."

  "I worried, after I called, that you might be sleeping," I said, since I was a huge, nervous dork.

  "Not on a Friday night," he said.

  There was a smile in his voice, and I felt jealous that he was doing anything but hanging out with me on a Friday night. I felt an astounding amount of nerves and butterflies just from the sound of his voice.

  I continued to pace. I could hear him changing locations. The commotion died down. I could still hear sounds, but they were quieter.

  "I'm stepping outside," he said. "I could hardly hear you in there." He took a deep breath. "Am I dreaming, or did you say this was Ivy Bishop?" he asked.

  "You're not dreaming," I said. I was so excited to talk to him that I felt as though my face could crack to pieces with a smile. I opened my mouth really big to stretch it out, trying to get myself together enough to speak like a rational person.

  "What are you doing calling me, Ivy Bishop?"

  "I, uh, had, I had a question for you."

  "Ask away," he said.

  Again, I could hear him smiling. His deep confident voice sent chills up my spine. I was nervous to the point of breathlessness, but I spoke anyway.

  "Luke, did, uh, you leave a… was there a… the day you left… did you happen to leave… a note?"

  A long pause followed my question.

  Maybe it was just a few seconds, but to me, it felt like a lifetime. I was just about to ask if he was still there when he answered.