Their Small-Town Love

by Arlene James

  “Carrying around that much bitterness can’t be good for a fellow,” Holt put in, turning away from the high chair where he had just deposited Ace. Going down on his haunches, he began to help his grandfather with the boots.

  The two so resembled each other, despite the forty-four years between them, that old photos of Hap were often mistaken for current ones of Holt.

  The family had just returned from the late service at First Church, and while Charlotte and Cara had gone into the small kitchen to get dinner on the table, the men had made themselves comfortable in the apartment dining room. For Holt, Ty and Ryan, that amounted to removing their jackets and ties and rolling up their shirtsleeves before taking their customary chairs at the table; for Hap it meant shucking his decades-old black suit and trading it for his usual flannel shirt, denim overalls and work boots. Emerging from his bedroom once more, he had picked up the conversation about Ivy where they’d left off earlier.

  “Care to elaborate on just what it is that you’ve heard?” Ryan asked. Much as he disliked gossip, he wanted to know what caused Ivy’s pain and Olie’s anger.

  Hap shrugged and rasped, “Mostly it was about that radio show of hers. I’ve heard the term vulgar in connection with it.”

  That, unfortunately, dovetailed with what Ryan had heard at the banquet the previous night.

  “I’ve listened to that show,” Ty admitted. “I’m ashamed to say it used to be one of my favorites. For what it’s worth, it was mostly her partner, FireBrand Phillips, saying and doing the risqué things, but vulgar isn’t too strong a term for what I heard. I guess the thing is that when being outrageous is your trademark, you have to find a way to constantly outdo yourself. It got to be too much for me even before I met the Lord.”

  Hap made a mournful, disapproving sound deep in his throat. “Pitiful way to make a living.”

  Ace growled in an attempt to copy the old man’s sound, and Hap smiled indulgently at the boy. Theirs was a mutual admiration society.

  Charlotte came in from the kitchen bearing china dishes and flatware, which she carried to the table before heading over to the maple hutch to gather tablecloth, place mats and napkins. “According to what they said when they recognized her at the banquet last night,” Charlotte reminded them, “that’s all behind Ivy now. She and that Phillips have broken up the act.”

  “That is what it sounded like,” Holt agreed.

  “Look, for all we know, Ivy had a change of heart about the way she was making her living,” Charlotte said. “I, for one, think she should get the benefit of the doubt.”

  “She did go to early service with Ryan this morning,” Holt pointed out.

  “Which had nothing, I’m sure, to do with him personally,” Ty quipped, “him being such an unappealing cuss.”

  Ryan pulled a face at his brother-in-law. “I don’t think she’d have gone at all if she’d known Olie would be there.”

  “Shame, what he did,” Hap said.

  “She ran off in tears,” Ryan recalled softly. “It was heartbreaking.”

  “Even if what the gossips say about Ivy is true,” Charlotte went on, “Christians should show her the love of Christ, as I’m sure you all know.”

  “Well, that settles it then,” Hap announced, slapping a knee for emphasis.

  Ace smacked the tray of his high chair.

  “Settles what?” Ryan asked in confusion, unaware of anything that needed to be settled.

  “We’re inviting her to dinner, that’s what,” Charlotte answered briskly. Charlotte had been thirteen when their parents had died and, with both of her older brothers out on their own, she’d moved into the motel with their grandparents. At twenty-seven, having lived more than half her life with Hap Jefford, she could practically read the old man’s mind. Charlotte and their grandfather had grown especially close after the death of their grandmother a few years ago, so close that her brothers had feared she would devote herself to Hap and never marry.

  “You’ve got to take her key over anyway,” Cara told Ryan from the kitchen doorway, an apron cinched around her slender waist. “That’s what she said when I let her in the room earlier, that you were holding her key for her and she’d forgotten to get it back.”

  That and the shawl, Ryan reflected unhappily. Shifting in his chair, he pressed his elbows to the tabletop and spread his hands, saying, “I’m not sure I’m the one who ought to speak to her.”

  “Of course you are,” Charlotte retorted dismissively. “Who else?”

  “Maybe she’d rather have a woman to talk to,” he suggested hopefully.

  “Instead of a strong shoulder to cry on?” Cara asked in a skeptical tone. “I don’t think so.”

  Exasperated, Ryan sighed, knowing he was on the hook but still squirming. “Well, she might need a little more time to compose herself.”

  “Nothing raises the hair on the back of a man’s neck like a woman’s tears,” Holt observed wisely, “because he’s either got to run or let her use his shoulder for a hanky.”

  “Running would be cowardly,” Charlotte sniffed.

  “And the other doesn’t sound very heroic, either, put that way,” Cara chided lightly.

  Holt lifted his eyebrows. “That’s because you’re not a man, thank the sweet Lord.” That won him a warm smile and the glint of a promise from his wife’s big, worshipful eyes. He smirked at Ryan. “Coward or hero? Your choice, little brother.”

  “Maybe because you’re so experienced, you should do it,” Ryan snapped.

  Cara waved a hand to let them know she would be making that decision. “Uh. No.” With that, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a smugly grinning Holt behind her.

  Ty cupped his hands behind his head and looked at Charlotte, who snorted and said, “Don’t even think about it.”

  Ty turned to Ryan. “Sorry, pal. It’s you or Hap.”

  “You took her to sunrise service,” Hap grated out.

  Rolling his eyes, Ryan pushed up to his feet, snagged his coat from the back of his chair and tossed it on. Obviously, he would get no peace until he’d done what they wanted. Why had he wanted their advice, anyway?

  “Just for that,” he scolded, wagging his finger between his brother and brother-in-law, “you two can set the table without my help.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Jefford, sir,” Tyler quipped, winking at Holt. “He does love that mantle of authority, doesn’t he?” Holt chuckled.

  Ace put back his head and laughed, not having the least idea what might be funny.

  Ryan didn’t dignify their laughter with a reply, but it was clear that no one here gave one instant’s consideration to his discomfort. Didn’t they realize that a small-town assistant principal and coach lived in a fishbowl? He couldn’t be caught in the middle of a public family dispute—even if it wasn’t his family.

  “I’ll get an extra place setting,” Charlotte announced as Ryan turned toward the front room, adjusting his collar. “Way this family’s growing,” she went on, “we’re going to have to buy more china soon.”

  Shaking his head, Ryan gathered up the paisley shawl and went out into the lobby, pulling the door closed behind him. Once alone, however, he paused to close his eyes and send up a quick prayer. He felt mixed emotions—guilt about his reluctance to face Ivy, yet a growing excitement at seeing her again.

  Lord, I’ve always liked Ivy, and I can’t help feeling sorry for her. I’ll help her if I can, but please don’t let me get sucked into something that I have no business getting involved in. I saw the hurt on her face and felt the sting of Olie’s words, and I know that she needs comfort and support. I want to be her friend, I really do. And yes, I have to admit she’s beautiful. Just show me how to help her without… He bowed his head a little lower, suddenly feeling chastised, and went on. Just show me how to do it in a way that honors You. Amen.

  Couldn’t go wrong with that, he told himself, patting his pocket to be sure the key hadn’t gone missing and heading for Ivy’s room.
/>   This had to stop, Ivy told herself, sighing. She’d put it out of her mind for fifteen or twenty minutes, then she’d think of the look of contempt on her father’s face, of the acid tone of his voice, and the pain would return. Feeling so hurt was stupid, because she’d expected him to react as he had. She wouldn’t have believed it if he’d acted any other way. Still, it felt as if her heart had been cut out and handed to her on a platter, and all she seemed able to do, besides cry, was pray for strength.

  Squaring her shoulders, she faced her image in the mirror over the dresser and took several deep breaths. She was in the midst of giving herself a stern, mental talking-to when the telephone beside the bed rang.

  She’d noticed as soon as she’d arrived that her cell phone didn’t have reception, and she hadn’t made any calls from the room, so she couldn’t imagine who besides her sister would be calling her. It wouldn’t have been difficult, of course, for anyone who knew that she had taken a room at Heavenly Arms to reach her. Warily, she walked across the industrial-style carpeting and lifted the old-fashioned, corded receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Rose.”

  Ivy smiled tremulously. “I thought it might be. Couldn’t imagine who else would be calling me here.”

  “How was the sunrise service?”

  Ivy sighed. “The service itself was lovely. What happened afterward…” She went on to glumly explain the confrontation with their father.

  “I’m so sorry, Ivy,” Rose said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him that you’re in town.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Ivy told her sister. “I blindsided you, and now I’ve blindsided him, but it wasn’t my intention. I went to the sunrise service in the first place because I thought Dad would be attending church with you guys.”

  “We thought so, too, but he didn’t show up, and now I guess I know why.”

  “I hope I haven’t caused trouble for you,” Ivy said worriedly. “I first thought that you could mention you’d run into me at the reunion, sort of prepare him for meeting me face-to-face, but that was before I realized your condition.”

  Rose laughed at that. “I’m pregnant, sis. That’s hardly a debilitating condition. I had every intention of telling Dad over dinner today that you’re in town, but because he missed church, I doubt he’ll show up for dinner, which is why I’m calling. Why don’t you come over, meet the boys and have Easter dinner with us?”

  Meet the boys. Rose’s two sons would be under six years of age because neither had been born the last time Ivy had seen her sister. Rose hadn’t even been noticeably pregnant. Then again, neither had Ivy. Noticeably, that was.

  Ivy bit her lip, tears threatening once more at the thought of her daughter. Funny how she’d been able to put that pain away for a while, and now suddenly it was like being flayed alive every time she thought about Chelsea. Ivy knew that she was in no shape to meet her nephews at the moment. Gulping, she tried to keep her voice even.

  “I’m sorry, Rose, but n-not today. Dad might still show up, and I’m afraid I’ve developed a killer headache since our run-in this morning. I’m just going to hang out here today. We’ll talk again tomorrow morning and arrange something then.”

  Rose sighed. “I understand. But tomorrow, okay? Scott and Hunter are anxious to meet their Aunt Ivy.”

  Not as anxious as their Aunt Ivy was to avoid meeting them, Ivy told herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. She just didn’t know if she could bear meeting Rose’s children.

  For the first time, she wondered if she’d made a horrible mistake in coming here. A knock at her door saved her from having to pursue either that idea or the conversation any further.

  “Rose, someone’s at my door. I’ll call you in the morning. Thanks for the invitation. Bye.”

  Rose reluctantly let her go. Ivy placed the receiver in the cradle of the phone, calling out, “One moment!”

  Rushing back to the mirror, Ivy sniffed and smoothed her hair. Nothing she could do would lessen the redness in the tip of her nose, however. Accepting that fact, she took the time to straighten the hem of the baggy, dark blue T-shirt that she wore with a comfortable pair of faded jeans before heading to the door. After one more deep breath, she reached for the knob.

  For the second time that day, Ryan stood smiling at Ivy’s door. This time, however, no answering smile lit her face. Instead, the gaze from her red-rimmed eyes barely touched on his before sliding away. Obviously embarrassed about what had happened that morning, she folded her arms in a protective posture. He said the first thing that popped into his mind.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, but he saw her swallow and cleared his throat in sympathy.

  “We, um, thought you might like to join us for dinner.” Ivy bowed her head, prompting him to add, “Charlotte and Cara together lay as fine a table as you’ll find anywhere.” She took a breath, and he rushed on. “There’s always plenty.”

  Sighing, she lifted a hand to her head and said, “I’m sorry, but I have a terrible headache just now.”

  He didn’t doubt it a bit. Still, he hated to think of her weeping alone in her room. “You’ve got to eat.”

  She shook her head, muttering, “I’m not hungry.”

  “Aw, come on,” he urged. “It’s just the family. What can it hurt?”

  “I’m not hungry!” she snapped. The next instant she squeezed her eyes closed and softened her tone. “Sorry. I—I just can’t think of food right now. I’ll get something later.”

  He didn’t point out that there would be nothing to get later. Neither the diner downtown nor Booker’s Grocery Emporium opened on Sundays, and the catfish joint outside of town would close after the midday rush, as it always did on Sundays.

  Realizing then that he hadn’t yet delivered her shawl and key, he hurried to rectify that oversight. “Oh. Uh.” He lifted the hand with which he grasped her shawl and dug into his coat pocket with the other. “I almost forgot. You left these.”

  Gingerly she took the silky wrap from his hand and draped it over her arm then reached for the key. “Thank you. I’m afraid I wasn’t…that is, I…” She took a deep breath and finally met his gaze with hers. “I owe you an apology for what happened this morning.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly, but she seemed intent on explaining.

  “From what you said last night, I assumed Dad would not be at the service. I didn’t realize the Magnolia church would be included.”

  “You’re not the one who created that scene,” Ryan pointed out. “He accosted you.”

  “He was right,” she admitted bluntly, bowing her head. “I’ve done some things I’m not very proud of, Ryan.”

  “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, Ivy,” he told her gently.

  She shook her head as if to say he couldn’t possibly understand. “I just never thought that he would say those things. I mean, I never really thought he’d want anyone else to know about—” She broke off, biting her lip.

  Ryan’s heart felt like it weighed about fifty pounds. “You don’t owe me any apologies or explanations, Ivy.”

  “That’s kind of you to say,” she mumbled.

  “Your sister doesn’t seem to agree with your father,” he noted.

  Ivy gave him a smile then, just a small one. “Thankfully. She invited me to Easter dinner, too, but this blasted headache…” She rubbed her forehead. “If you’ll excuse me, I—I think I’ll just rest.” Abruptly, she stepped back and closed the door.

  Ryan lifted his hand, but then paused. For several long seconds he stood there, turning away, then back. Part of him couldn’t help feeling sorry for Ivy or wanting to comfort her. Another part, even though it left him feeling like a heel, almost wished she hadn’t come back to town, that he hadn’t sat down at her table last night or issued his ill-fated invitation. He had the feeling that his life had suddenly become much more complicated somehow.

  Finally, he faced the fact that the moment to reac
h out had passed. His steps dragging uncertainly, he took himself back to the apartment and the disappointed faces of his family.

  Chapter Five

  “Martin and Maria Esquivel are the perfect solution,” Charlotte insisted gently.

  “Martin does have a background in hotel management,” Ty pointed out, glancing around the table. “He’s worked at everything from night clerk to concierge.”

  “And Maria is as hardworking as they come,” Charlotte added.

  “I don’t know,” Hap said, grimacing at Charlotte. “I suppose they could have your old room, then if they don’t work out—”

  “No, Granddad,” Charlotte interrupted. “They have an eight-year-old daughter who will need a room of her own. Besides, we can’t very well ask them to give up their jobs in Dallas and move here on a trial basis.”

  Hap sighed and looked down at his hands. The motel had been his livelihood for nearly half a century, his own personal calling, and Ryan’s heart went out to him. So much had changed so fast lately.

  For years it had been just the four of them, him, his brother, his sister and their granddad. Now, within the space of mere months, both Charlotte and Holt had married, and while everyone was happy about it, it had taken a toll on Hap’s well-ordered existence. No longer able to manage the physical work that came with running the motel, he had relied first on Charlotte and then on Cara for assistance. Holt and Ryan had pitched in for a little while before Cara had come along—okay, mostly Holt—and they had discovered then how difficult, if not impossible, hiring good help had become, given the area’s small labor pool and the demands of the booming oil and gas industry on it.

  Had Cara not been running from her overbearing in-laws and desperate for work, the motel would likely be sitting on the auction block now. Holt could not have continued neglecting his drilling business for much longer, and the demands of Ryan’s profession had certainly not abated, nor would they until the summer and then only for a short time.