Holly and Ivy

by Fern Michaels

  She just wanted the keys to the locks. Her personal life was none of his business. He was just making conversation, but she wasn’t quite ready to talk about her past. So she said, “No, it’s just me. I . . . well, I have things that keep me busy.” Lame as ever, but she was not about to tell Andy that she spent the mornings in bed, drank coffee like an addict, and spent her afternoons traipsing the trails behind her house, then boozed it up in the evenings. No, that truly was not his business, either. “If you’ll just get the key, please. I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She wasn’t, not really, but she did not want to stand here and discuss life and death. That’s all she ever thought about, day and night.

  “Sure, sorry. I get carried away. Be right back.” He opened a door behind the counter, which led to some kind of storage area. He returned with a small manila envelope. “Here you are. If the locks give you any trouble, spray a little WD-40 on the key and the lock. Should slide right in.”

  Her only thought was she did not have any WD-40, but she had yet to make the decision to unlock the doors. One step at a time. “Uh, sure, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for keeping the keys for me. I’m sorry about your son.” She knew what it felt like to lose a child.

  “You have any troubles, just call me,” Andy said as she made her way to the door.

  Ivy waved good-bye, and once she was back in her car, she took several deep breaths. Her heart was pounding like a Gatling gun. One step at a time. This would be her new motto. Wasn’t that what alcoholics said to get through the day? She had heard it somewhere, probably on TV or the Internet. She backed out of the parking lot and thought about driving to Dad’s house, but he was probably working, making preparations to sell his house and the airline, so he could start his new life. Somehow she did not see him fully retiring. He was not the kind of man who could sit around and do nothing, or play golf all day.

  He’d worked so hard to make Macintosh Air a success. Could she really just walk away from the family business? She had already, but she knew how passionate her father was, knew all the blood, sweat, and tears he’d poured into the airline to make it as successful as it was today, in spite of the crash. They’d had a perfect record before that crash and one ever since. She read the papers online, so she was not totally out of the loop, though Ivy would never tell this to her father.

  She thought about it as she drove along Main Street. Many family-owned shops lined the street. Some had already started putting up Christmas lights; giant pine wreaths and pots of bright red poinsettias flanked their doors. Pine City was such a simple little town, just an hour from Asheville, and she had always loved living here. Every year, Main Street was decorated to the nines for Christmas. She could never leave her hometown, that much she knew. She had too many good memories here.

  What the heck was she thinking, anyway? She was not going anywhere. Her dad’s visit, it seemed, had affected her more than she wanted to admit. He’d made her think about her future. One step at a time. That was the best she could do for now.

  * * *

  With all the positivity flowing through her, she suddenly knew what she had to do. She had only been there once. It was the second worst moment of her life. It had been a cold, dreary day. Temperatures had plummeted into the teens, the wind sharp and cutting, whipping at the dark wool skirt Rebecca had given her. She had been in such a state of shock, she had not been able to focus on Father Angelo’s words.

  It was like a bad dream. She remembered thinking she would wake up, and they would finish decorating the tree. But standing in the bitter cold, listening to words that offered no comfort, the cold wind biting at her bare legs, her father at her side, Ivy had wanted to crawl into the ground, into one of the three empty graves with caskets that held nothing but the mementos Rebecca had picked out just so there would be something placed in the two small white coffins and John’s larger one.

  She did not remember much after that. She had lived in a complete and total fog for months after their deaths. Every time Ivy tried to imagine the last few minutes of her family’s life, she had to drink to block out the horrifying images that plagued her every waking moment. The alcohol became her best friend. It helped to blur the vile images, to still the screams she imagined the passengers uttered as they felt the plane hurled toward the ground.

  To this very day, the true cause of Macintosh Air’s fatal crash was a mystery, since the nature of the supposed error had never been revealed. The media had tossed out everything from a drunk pilot to a fight in the cockpit. Her father had other ideas, but she refused to listen to them. In her mind, Mark had somehow made the deadly error and killed over one hundred people.

  She made a right turn, then a left, where the road narrowed to two lanes, and merged into one at the cemetery’s entrance. Giant black gates reminded her of two black widow spiders, their fuzzy tips coming together to form a barricade. Clearing the insane image from her head, she pulled up to the gates and pressed a button to open them.

  There were no special codes, no mechanical voice coming from the small speaker and asking her questions. The gates slowly opened. Ivy could hear the mechanical grinding as they slid aside, allowing entrance to grief-stricken mourners and others. Before she changed her mind, she tapped the accelerator a bit too hard, sending little bits of dust whirling behind her. The gates closed as soon as she had entered, and for a minute, she was not sure she should be there. Her heart pounded and her hands clutched the steering wheel in a death grip, fear and nerves causing her hands to feel damp and slippery. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her car off to the side, where two other cars were parked. Probably belong to people who work here, she thought. She forced herself to focus on her surroundings, anything to keep her on this path, literally, or she was going to run back to her car and leave this horrible place, where memories of her babies were buried.

  A small cry came from her lips when the sidewalk curved to the left and she saw the small rise in the earth. A giant oak tree, its leaves all but gone, shadowed the three headstones that memorialized all that she had lost. The graves were well tended. Her father, she thought. Artificial fall leaves were placed in special vases on the ground above each grave.

  The trees whirled around her, and the bluish-gray sky began spinning like a globe. Reaching for something, anything but the headstone to steady her, Ivy screamed when a hand touched her on the shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” a masculine voice asked. “You look a bit . . . unsteady.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Ivy realized she had been on the verge of fainting. To the best of her knowledge, she had never fainted in her entire life. Her hands shook, and her heart raced, but she was okay. Ivy nodded to the stranger, then pushed herself up. “Yes, I’m . . . okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ivy closed her eyes, hoping to block out the engraved words she had just read on her family’s headstone, but the image was now branded on her brain, and she knew it would never leave her. It had been a bad idea to come to the cemetery.

  “Ma’am?” the male voice came again.

  Ivy shook her head, as if she were clearing away a cobweb, and turned around so she could see who was there.

  He was very tall, and his shoulders were so wide, they looked as though they were about to pop the seams on the yellow windbreaker he wore. Pale blue denim encased long, muscular legs. Dark hair curled around his collar as Ivy looked into a pair of clear blue eyes. What calming eyes, she thought as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I’m sorry. It’s my first . . .”

  “Your first visit?” he finished for her.

  She nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, tears filling her eyes and clouding her vision.

  “I can help you to your car,” he offered.

  “No, no, I’m fine, really.” She raked a hand through her hair, used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her eyes. “I’m going to go now. Thanks.” Before he could say another comforting word, Ivy turned and walked back to her car as fast as she could. When she r
eached her car, she cranked the engine over, turning the heat on as high as it would go. She was so cold, her teeth chattered.

  Unsure of the temperature, Ivy knew that her shivering was more of a nervous reaction rather than a response to the cold. It was cool outside, but not so cold that it would have brought on a case of the shivers. No, she was simply overwhelmed. This trip to the cemetery was not a good idea at all.

  She sat there with the engine running, the vents blowing hot air in her face. Feeling the warmth, she huddled even closer to the vents, so the air could warm her face. What made her think she was ready for this, she did not know. Her father’s visit, she supposed. When she felt warmer, and in control, she backed out of the parking space and turned the car toward the closed gates. She pulled her car as close to the metal box as possible and pushed the button that opened the gates. As soon as they were open, she raced away from the cemetery as fast as possible. Her hands still shook, but she was able to drive safely.

  After such a harrowing experience, all Ivy wanted to do was go home and pour herself a drink.

  Chapter 11

  “All you have to do is tell your dad that Ms. Anderson insists on tutoring you, Holly,” Roxie explained as they boarded the bus. “She said she would tutor you. It’s simple, really. She can give you an hour in the afternoons, you focus on every single thing she says, show your dad how hard you’re trying. Then, if you’re lucky, he’ll leave you alone, and you can sneak to Miss Carol’s and do your thing while he is busy planning a dinner date with Ms. Anderson.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Holly said. But she knew her father better than anyone. No way was he going to allow Ms. Anderson to come to the house every day just so Holly could bring up her math grade. He’d already told her she had to study her math on her own. And the dating part, that was a total joke. She decided she would either beg or throw a temper tantrum; she would play it by ear. She had to have a few hours each week in order to secure her future, but she could not tell him that. One thing at a time.

  Once they were in their usual seats at the back of the bus, they continued to discuss ways for Holly to meet with Miss Carol so she could practice.

  “Why don’t you just tell your father how important this musical is to you? Surely, he’ll understand.” Kayla, ever the sweetest and most upbeat of the three, always seemed to have a simple solution for everything.

  “I don’t think it would matter. You know how he hates music and anything to do with it. I just might as well forget the whole idea, it’s just too much trouble. Believe it or not, I do not like lying and sneaking around,” Holly said. Saddened at the thought of missing the opportunity of a lifetime, she just had to come up with a solution. Most dads would be thrilled if their daughter had this kind of opportunity, but he didn’t know she even had an opportunity like this. Her two best friends did not even know. Maxine said it was best to keep this between them in case it did not work out, since then she would not have to explain if he did not show up.

  Her dad was nothing but a total bummer, and that was becoming more so with each passing day. He did this every year around the holidays, so it wasn’t like she didn’t know what to expect. He hated Christmas, he hated music, and Holly wondered if he hated her, too.

  “You are not giving up! We’ll come up with a plan, trust me,” Roxie said. “Why don’t you come home with me today? You can talk to my mom. About your mom and dad. She might be willing to help us, but you can’t tell her what I said about women giving their right tit. I’d be in big trouble!”

  “Left tit,” Holly corrected. They all laughed. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Dad was in a supercrappy mood when I left. If he stops by the house to check on me, and I’m not there, I’ll be in a lot more trouble.”

  For once, Roxie was quiet. Kayla and Holly both stared out of the window as the bus stopped and started. Uphill, downhill, the streets were as familiar to Holly as her own house. Ranch-style houses, big front yards with trees still clinging to the last few colorful leaves of fall, Holly loved Pine City and could not imagine living anyplace else. At least not until she started college, and that was a superlong time away. She had traveled to Asheville with her father, and to a few other small towns throughout the state, but that was it. Why was she even having these kinds of thoughts? She was eleven—well, she would be until the last day in December—a horrible day for a birthday as far as she was concerned. While the rest of the world prepared to bring in the New Year, she would get to pick out a movie to rent, and her dad allowed her to stay up as late as she wanted, which was totally cool, but it was time her dad allowed her to have more freedom.

  “I’ll go home with you,” Holly said, “but your mom will have to call my dad. I do not like the way I feel when I tell lies.” Holly did not like it at all and knew that neither Roxie nor Kayla did, either, unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “Okay. Kayla, can you stay, too? Maybe I can talk Mom into ordering a pizza or subs from Ollie’s.”

  “Sure, but I’ll need to call my mom, too. I don’t want to worry her, you know how she is.” If Kayla was one minute late from anything, her mother freaked out, but that was because Kayla was an only child, and her mother and father were a lot older than some of the other parents. But she was the sweetest mom ever, and Holly loved it when she spent the night at Kayla’s house. Kayla’s mom would always make sure to have all kinds of snacks on hand, good and bad, and anything Kayla wanted to do was fine with her mother as long as it was age-appropriate. They were even allowed to watch horror movies, which they all loved, especially the Freddy Krueger ones. Holly was not sure if her father cared if she watched these kinds of movies because the topic never came up. When she did go to the Redbox by Walgreens with him to rent a movie, she always tried to pick out a movie he would enjoy, too, just in case he wanted to watch it with her.

  He usually spent most of his time in his den when he was home. She had no clue what he did, but he seemed to spend a lot of time in there. He had tons of horticultural books and read a lot. He did not have a computer, and Holly thought that was odd, but she was used to her father’s strange ways.

  When the trio stepped off the bus, the afternoon air was chilly, and they all shivered as they walked up the long drive to Roxie’s house. Of the three houses, Roxie’s was the biggest and the prettiest. It was three stories tall, with lots of wood, and the big glass windows faced the mountains. There was an Olympic-sized pool in the backyard surrounded by lots of tables and lounge chairs. There was even an outdoor kitchen. It was the coolest place to hang out in the summer.

  Roxie’s dad was some kind of insurance executive and made gobs of money, but Roxie was not spoiled at all. Like Holly and Kayla, Roxie did not have all the gizmos that many other kids their age had. They’d once said they had each other, and that was enough for them.

  As soon as they entered the house, Roxie called out, “Mom, I’m home. Holly and Kayla are here, too.”

  Jen Pellegrino was an older version of Roxie, or vice versa. She had beautiful, silky, long blond hair and hazel-colored eyes that sparkled with mischief. Her long, tan legs were so pretty, Holly thought she could have been a model, had she wanted to be.

  “Hey, girls, great to see you. I bet you’re all starved,” Jen said. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see what I can come up with.”

  “Mom, Holly’s dad doesn’t know she’s here. Could you call him for her? He’s kinda mad at her.”

  “Oh, Holly, I’m so sorry, sweetie. Did you two have a fight or something?”

  Holly set her backpack down by the table. “No. He’s just upset over my math grade.” There was more to it than that, but it was all she needed to say. Jen knew that Holly’s home life was rather strange. Not really bad, just different.

  “Then let me call him now. I do not want him worrying about you.”

  “Thanks,” Holly said.

  “Can we order something from Ollie’s?” Roxie called to her mom, who was already on the phone with Holly’s dad.
She nodded yes, and Roxie gave Holly a big high five.

  Jen put the phone down. “Your dad said it’s fine if you want to stay for dinner, as long as I can drive you home, which I can. You girls want that pizza now, or do you want to wait?”

  “Now,” Roxie said. “I’m starving.”

  Holly shot Roxie a questioning look. Lunch had not been that long ago. Roxie shook her head, and this was yet another signal between them. It meant to go along with whatever she said.

  “Me too,” Holly added.

  “I’m famished as well,” Kayla said, and they all laughed.

  “Such a big word for such a young girl,” Jen said teasingly.

  “She’s the lady in our group,” Roxie said to her mother.

  “You’re all young ladies, each unique in your own special way.”

  Roxie giggled. “You sound just like the camp counselor I had last summer. Promise me I don’t have to go back next summer? I want to stay home this year.”

  “You can stay here, Rox, if that’s what you really want to do. But I thought you liked camp.”

  “I did, but I’m too old for that now. I’d rather stay home and hang around with my friends.”

  “Then I’ll make it happen. Maybe we can host a pool party this summer, and you can invite your entire class.”

  “Mom! Please do not start planning stuff already,” Roxie pleaded. “No way would I ever invite my entire class.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. They all giggled, including Roxie’s mom.

  Holly thought Roxie was lucky to have such a fun, cool mom who really cared about her. Again she thought of her mother, and how her life would have been different if her mom had lived. She did have Miss Carol, who was like a grandmother to her, and she totally loved spending time with her, but still, Miss Carol was not her mother.

  Jen called Ollie’s and ordered a pizza, submarine sandwiches, and a giant chocolate chip cookie pizza for dessert. Holly was not even remotely hungry, but no way would she pass on this feast.