"Special Agent Tovey, we are here today to recognize your achievements with the FBI and to honor you for your recent performance in a critical case during an operation in Sofia."
Brian's surprise showed on his face as he scrambled to push himself up straighter in the bed, wincing when he moved his hurt leg. Steve adjusted the camera and microphone, then nodded to Brian to respond.
"It was a team effort, sir. I only did what was necessary in the line of duty."
"That is not what I hear from Special Director Nielsen. Agents often put their lives on the line in the call of duty. You also had to put your reputation on the line. Nielsen, would you elaborate?"
"Yes, sir. Not only did Special Agent Tovey perform his impersonation superbly, as required for this sting and under very adverse conditions, he also had the courage to take a bullet for a fellow agent. Only a courageous man and outstanding agent would perform either one of those valiant acts. Brian Tovey did both during the most important humanitarian sting I have been on."
Steve opened a box and held it towards the camera.
The Director continued, "I find it an honor to present Special Agent Tovey with the FBI Medal of Valor. Usually we make these presentations in Washington, however given your injury, we decided to advance the timing. Agent Tovey when you are able to travel, please come to Washington and get on my calendar. I would like to talk with you in person.
"For the rest of the team, thank you for your many contributions to the FBI and in particular for bringing this case to conclusion. You should take pride in knowing you resolved a critical humanitarian case.”
Steve handed the medal to Brian who appeared dumbfounded by the award. Mathew found himself smiling during this presentation. The FBI has four of these types of medals, which are highly prized when awarded. Steve glanced over at him and he nodded his approval. All too often Steve was impervious to what he asked of agents, yet today he found a way to make every agent in the room feel it was worth it.
Mathew noticed that the other agents treated Brian with more respect. No one made jokes about his masculinity or his impersonation. Receiving the award awed Brian, and yet he remained the unassuming man he had always been. Maybe that sting made him more confident in who he was. Mathew discerned that the public recognition contributed, as did the knowledge that he had the courage to save his best friend.
They continued working with local authorities in the U.S. and in other western countries to shut down the brothels and start to rehabilitate the children, although they wondered how a kid finds any kind of life after the kind of experience those children went through. During this time, Steve was often impatient, pacing around, responding snappishly and acting preoccupied, even though he was determined to see it through. Mathew could tell that he was eager to fly back to Frankfurt, pick up his personal cell phone and hear Ivy's reaction to his email. A couple of times Steve tried to break away and fly out, however some new communication or finding would keep him in Bern. Rescuing those kids still trapped in their hellish lives kept him going. Besides as long as his personal cell phone stayed untouched, he still could hope that Ivy had called him. Mathew regarded him with new admiration. He was glad to see Steve wanted to be in a relationship based on truth and trust. He smiled to himself, thinking of Steve's worry about Ivy -- at Spes non Francta, but Hope is not Broken.
Chapter 7
Nearly two weeks had passed since Ivy emailed Steve and no call back had come from him. She was holding onto the hope that he was in the field and unreachable, yet she wondered if a sting took this long. In the movies they were always fast-paced with the agents in and out with lightning speed. How long would one of Steve's operations last? Would it have made a difference if she had responded to him the same day that he sent the email? As the days stretched out, she was increasingly worried that he would never call, fearing that he found the Ivy beneath the surface not what he expected.
How foolish she had been not to ask for a response one way or the other. He may have so romanticized her based on their limited contact, that what she revealed in her email might have tainted her in his eyes. If Ivy's life was bleak before she met Steve, how much more desolate it would be now if she had lost him. He set a new standard for her expectations of what a man could be. While they had known each other only a short time, she would have trouble finding another man to step into those big shoes of his. Even though she suspected that he had read her email and the truths it contained turned him off, Ivy still hoped he would call. She began to wonder if she should call his personal cell. She carried that thought with her to bed that Tuesday night of Thanksgiving week and fell into a fitful sleep.
Four hours later, Ivy's cell phone rang. She fumbled for the light and grabbed the phone out of her purse, clicking it on with a sleepy hello.
"Ivy, its S . . ." Line dead.
She dialed him back, hearing only a fast busy signal. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she glanced at the clock. Two a.m. -- she entered a quick text, hoping it would go through: "U CLLD? CALL or TXT ME." She waited. Nothing. She tried dialing again. Same fast busy. She was about to email Steve when the tone signaling a new text sounded on her cell: "TKNG OFF. DP FF. U ME GD. CLL U SEATAC. YR BG." She sure hoped that meant "Taking Off. Departing Frankfurt. You and I are good. Call you from SeaTac. Your Big Guy." SeaTac -- Seattle! He was heading her way. She could feel herself smiling. Suddenly the tiredness that had been plaguing her was gone. She jumped up and twirled in a circle, picking up Druid as a dance partner. The corgis shook themselves awake and wriggled at her feet as she began sashaying down the hall and into the kitchen. Steve would be here in her house this afternoon!
Suddenly her mind was racing with things she had to do before he arrived. Luckily the housecleaners were scheduled for the coming morning. She would have to leave work early and stock up the house with groceries. She went to her wine closet to check her inventory, noting that she should pick up a bottle or two of champagne. Her first order of business was to make a couple of lists – things to get done and all the food and munchies for the long weekend. She decided to make a reservation at the coast for two nights. It would be rainy and windswept, but even so the Oregon coast was irresistibly romantic. All through these thoughts, her heart kept humming – Steve is on his way, he still likes me, he wants me!
***
Steve flew from Frankfurt directly to Seattle, calling Ivy at work as the plane taxied to the gate. He cleared immigration and customs, checked case progress with Mathew and ran for the next flight to Portland, texting the flight number to Ivy as he scrunched himself into the small seat on the shuttle flight, sitting with both legs stuck out in the aisle. Although he had slept for a time on the plane out of Frankfurt, the long weeks on the case had worn Steve out. Even so, his heart buzzed with triumph that he and Ivy had survived their first crisis. He needed the comfort of her calm assurance, he wanted to watch her smile at him and he longed to have her soft yet strong body near him. These cravings for another person were new to him and the dependency made him uneasy, but Steve recognized if he failed to forge ahead with this stimulating woman, he might not have another chance at a broader life.
As soon as Steve called her from Seattle, Ivy scooted out of the office, did an accelerated shopping trip for a full turkey dinner and then zoomed out to the airport to pick him up, weaving through side streets to avoid the backed up holiday traffic on Interstate 84. How wonderful their reunion was when she ran towards him the moment he rounded the turn into the airport walkway where she was waiting. He dropped his bags and engulfed her in his embrace. They stood, hugging and kissing, oblivious to the crowd of holiday travelers pushing their way around them.
After battling the traffic on the drive back to her house, Ivy was in the kitchen putting away groceries. While she was worried that the long weekend could be a disaster if they realized they had nothing in common, the airport greeting was a good start. Hopefully the magical evening and breakfast they shared a few weeks ago marked the begin
ning of a promising relationship. While she pushed things around in the fridge to make room for the turkey, Steve was out in the living room, coaxing some logs in the fireplace into a steady flame.
"Ivy, Ivy, Ivy," he whispered coming into the kitchen. He pulled her into a big hug, stepped back, gazed at her intensely, and then kissed her so tenderly and so long, that Ivy thought her heart would burst.
"Oh God, holding you is like coming home. You feel fantastic in my arms. My Ivy Vine." He bent down again and nuzzled her neck.
“Steve, I am so glad you made it here.”
"You smell wonderful, like baking spices and yet like you too," he whispered in her ear.
He kissed her again, this time more deeply, pulling back reluctantly and leaving her wanting more.
"Why don't you show me around?" he asked. Cleo and Harry followed them as they moved to the front of the house. The two corgis had given him an excited greeting and inspection, trying to figure out who he was and why he was in their house. Steve poked his head in Ivy's office by the entry foyer and then tried out the easy chair in the little library nook off the hall. He checked the bookcase, his hands lingering on the spines of books as if they were treasures. From there, they stopped in the open dining room to pick up glasses of pinot noir.
Opening the door to the little upper deck off the living room, he checked out the distant lights in the misted view, the driveway below and the pots of herbs, smiling when he turned back to her. The house was built into the hillside with the living space on the upper floor which was street level. The downstairs was for the garage and the guest rooms.
The kitchen had a thorough going over as he poked through what she had bought to cook that evening. They walked through a small den that was open to the kitchen where he went out to the larger deck and checked the views in all directions. Down below was the backyard, its walkways dotted with white winter pansies in pots. Steve was quiet, only sometimes asking a question or making a comment.
"Are you always this thorough?" Ivy asked, as he nosed around the big pantry and the laundry room.
"Have to be." Steve stopped then and glanced at her as if realizing that a man on a date usually behaves differently.
"I should explain. First I am curious. I want to see where you live, so that when I'm not here, I can picture it in my mind's eye. For instance, if you say that you are curled up with a book, I'll know what that chair in the library area is like."
"And second?"
"You know that I deal with high impact cases against big-time bad guys. One of them could come after me. While that has never happened, procedure dictates that I have to be prepared. Most importantly, I don't want to endanger you by not being familiar with the layout of your house."
"That's comforting," Ivy said drily. "I suppose you want to see the bedrooms too."
He arched an eyebrow at her, making her blush. She led him down the hall to her master bedroom, letting him step into the room first while she watched him from the doorway. Suddenly Ivy was a bit leery of this big man prowling around her house. After all how well did she really know him? Steve peered out the windows and then stared at her big bed with its curving metal frame.
"Ivy leaves," he muttered. "Her bed is decorated with twining ivy leaves and vines."
His color rose as he realized he had spoken aloud. They each took a big sip from their wine glasses and headed downstairs where the guest rooms were. He checked the window locks and then stood quietly with Ivy while the corgis took a break in the fenced yard.
"They from the same litter?"
"No. If you look close, you will see they are really quite different in markings, body shapes and personalities, however both have big corgi hearts."
Ivy whistled for the dogs, clapped her hands and watched them as they flew past in that romping way corgis have, ready for their dinners. Steve and Ivy sipped wine, ate crab cake appetizers by the fire and talked while she cooked. Steve assigned himself to cleanup and had things rinsed and in the dishwasher almost before they hit the sink. When Ivy could, she glanced over at him and realized that he appeared more tired than the last time she had seen him. She noticed that Steve only sipped a little wine and she asked if the pinot was okay.
"Wonderful. Soft and delicate. Full too. Rather like you, it deserves to be savored.” He would have liked to have winked, but it was a skill he had never mastered, so he just gave Ivy a subtle smile. He found it endearing that she blushed a little at the compliment.
“Besides Ivy, I am really tired and I don't want the wine to put me to sleep, so I'm pacing myself."
At their dinner in the open dining room, Steve ate everything Ivy had prepared for him and then finished her salmon and sautéed potatoes too. After a tossed salad of local organic greens, Ivy suggested that they poke up the fire and have dessert in the living room. Steve had two helpings and then sat back, eyeing the rest of the tart. He sighed, pulled Ivy closer to him, and they reclined together, cuddling close without talking. Ivy felt warm and safe in Steve's arms and her earlier concerns drifted away. The evening was turning out as she had hoped. She snuggled closer to him, only to realize that he was asleep with his arm lying heavily over her waist. Her seductive powers were simply not working that night.
She had a bed made up for him downstairs where he could sleep his cares away. She tried to rally him. He woke up, snuggled and kissed her sleepily, then mumbled. "Need hotel. Call car." and he fell asleep again. She managed to pull him to his feet in a semi-conscious state. Moving him was difficult and Ivy knew she would never get him down the stairs to the guest room. They stumbled along the hall and he flopped on her bed. Ivy tugged his shoes off and then with some half-conscious help from him, wrestled him out of his suit, shirt and socks and into bed, pulling the covers over him. That was it -- he was gone into a deep sleep. She hung up his clothes, set the house alarm, put on a lacey nightie, grabbed her robe and went downstairs to sleep in the guest room.
The next morning at about eight, after having the dogs out for their morning walk, Ivy came back into the house. The master shower was running, so she went to brew fresh coffee. Within a few minutes, Steve came out, hair still wet, dressed in a crisp white shirt and suit pants. He gave her a lingering kiss and asked where she had slept.
"You missed a glorious night," Ivy teased him. "I slept in my bed and took full advantage of you."
His jaw dropped in surprise. "You're kidding, right?"
"You'll never really be sure, will you?"
"That was the best and longest night's sleep I've had in years. Usually no matter how tired I am, six hours is my limit. Most of the time I only get four. Did I dream it or did we eat a wonderful pear tart in front of the fire?"
He began snooping around in the kitchen. She moved to pour him coffee.
“When does the turkey go in?”
“Let me get breakfast done and then I can worry about the turkey.”
“I thought I might mix up some bloody marys or mimosas or something and we could watch the Thanksgiving Day parade on TV.”
“Mimosa for me. Sounds like a plan. We have no schedule today, except relaxing and getting to know each other.”
“Now that is a plan!”
They spent the day bundled by the TV in a little den off the kitchen that Ivy called the cozy room with its big windows and warm gas fireplace. Sometimes they would be in the kitchen cooking or pulling on raincoats to walk the dogs. Steve admired their holiday feast when it was ready late that afternoon and ate more turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy than Ivy thought one person could hold. After dinner, they took their wine in by the fire and cuddled, this time more passionately until Steve pulled back.
“Sorry Ivy, I’m moving too fast. One step at a time.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. We are not going to rush this. Besides I am so full of turkey that I can barely move. Let’s cuddle and take this slowly.”
Even though Ivy was mystified by Steve’s pulling back, she curved
herself around him, willing for that night to follow his slow lead. This time he slept in the guest room where he had moved his luggage and she crawled alone into her own bed. The next morning he woke her up by slipping into her bed, freshly showered, pulling her close and smiling at her.
"This morning I’m taking my best woman, heck my only woman, out to breakfast at that place she took me to last time and then she is going to spend the day showing me this great city of hers."
"She is, is she?"
He nodded. Ivy noticed that his eyes were warm with anticipation. While Ivy showered and dressed, Steve made coffee and then took the corgis out for a morning walk. As independent as she was, Ivy found she liked the way he made himself useful. Ivy drove them down to the restaurant called Mother's where she had their scrumptious Eggs Benedict and Steve had a large order of buttermilk pancakes with thick marionberry syrup, along with apple pork sausages.
As they sat holding hands and finishing their lattes, Steve surveyed the room and leaned closer to her. "I'm the only suit in here -- no problem finding the federal agent in this picture. Ivy, you have to take me shopping and dress me like a Northwest native."
A couple of hours later after stops at Patagonia, REI and Nordstrom, Steve was laden with packages and dressed like a newly minted Portland arrival. He had been putting things on as he bought them -- striped turtleneck and jeans that miraculously fit his long legs, navy fleece vest and windbreaker, and low hiking boots and socks. In the bags were corduroy pants, more socks, tee shirts, two fleece tops, two sweatshirts, a pair of sweatpants, a rain jacket, flannel pajamas, a wool Pendleton robe and sheepskin lined slippers.
"Will I pass?" he asked
"In about two years when everything is broken in and worn-looking."
"That means you have to give me at least two years."
Ivy smiled at him.
"And I hope longer. Oh jeez, slow down Nielsen." He turned away from her, shaking his head at himself.
As he wanted, that day they toured Portland. While it was wet and the mountains were hidden, Steve enjoyed the views of downtown from Council Crest where they took the dogs for a walk. From there, they drove up to the Pittock Mansion to see its annual Christmas display, thankful that the heavy rain kept the line short. After having cheeseburgers for a late lunch at the Heathman Pub, they rode the Max line around downtown and then took the aerial tram up to the teaching hospital of OHSU at dusk, watching the city lights come on as the short late autumn day ended. At that point, Steve seemed ready to return to Ivy’s house. Once inside, he took his packages into the guest room and came back up, dressed like an overgrown kid in his new pajamas, robe and slippers.
Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) Page 9