The Unwanted Assistant

by Evangeline Kelly

  I pushed down my growing anger as I stood to my feet. “You think I would care what people said? Wow, you really do think I’m shallow if that's what you believe. Because honestly, Sawyer, there’s nothing anyone could say that would ever change my opinion of you. Maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to get rid of me.”

  “You think I don’t want to be with you?” His voice rose a notch and his nostrils flared. “There’s only one thing I look forward to every day, and it’s the moment you walk into this house!”

  I wanted to believe his words. Wanted that more than anything.

  “You’re not shallow,” he said. “But you have to face reality. What happens when you want me to go out to dinner with you and your friends? Or you want me to attend a wedding? Or meet your parents? I’m not ready for that.”

  “I can wait until you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

  “No, Ivy.” He spat the words out so harshly I drew back. He looked tortured like he was in actual physical pain. “I may never be ready.”

  Tears pricked my lids at his statement. Was he seriously giving up? An uncomfortable silence hung between us. I had to fight for him. He was like a wounded animal, unable to see the truth of the situation. His fear held him back.

  “Sawyer, your scars are a testimony of God’s grace. He protected you during the accident. Don’t you think He wants you to live and breathe and interact with other people? There’s a reason He kept you alive, but don't you see—you’re throwing it all away by locking yourself up in this house.”

  His expression darkened, and he clenched his jaw like he was holding back an explosion. “You don't understand. I should have been the one to die, not my family.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “It matters to me.”

  “Please, Ivy. Let it go. Just let it go.”

  “Not this time. Why did you say you should have been the one to die?”

  “Because the accident was my fault!”

  And then he charged out of the room.

  Chapter 25

  Ivy

  I followed close behind Sawyer, down the stairs and out the back door of the sunroom. “Wait! Let’s talk about this.”

  “That’s enough, Ivy. I’m going for a jog.”

  I let him go. Didn’t even try to catch up as he disappeared down the pathway leading to the woods. He ran too fast, and I lacked the stamina to keep up. I continued down the path, the fresh air beckoning me forward and promising gentle breezes and clear skies to calm my frayed nerves.

  Gold and amber leaves crunched underneath my feet. I lifted my face towards the wind as it whipped through my hair and rustled swaying treetops, all the while praying God would help Sawyer come to terms with his past. I asked for wisdom of my own to navigate this situation.

  The shade of the woods cooled my flushed skin as I continued to walk and pray for a good twenty minutes.

  My foot caught on a raised tree root, and before I even realized what happened, I hurdled to the ground, screaming as I fell. Moaning from the sudden impact, I got up on all fours and then stood, legs wobbly. I glanced around at a small clearing with a fallen tree a few yards ahead.

  Sawyer must have heard my scream because a few minutes later, I spotted him running towards me. In the distance, he shouted, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” I yelled, brushing off my jeans, frustration sweeping through me at how klutzy I could be. My face heated as he approached. “I’m fine. Just tripped.” I rolled an ankle to make sure it was okay and gingerly placed my weight on it. “How did you hear me? I thought you’d be far away by now.”

  “I was on my way back. You shouldn’t have followed.” He surveyed me, searching for injuries, and then put his arm around my waist and led me to the fallen tree. “Does anything hurt?”

  “Just my pride.”

  “Can you sit?”

  I nodded and eased myself onto the tree trunk. Sawyer sat next to me.

  “The trails in these woods aren’t your average hiking paths. You need to be more careful. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

  “Really, I’m okay.” I glanced at him. “What about you? Are you okay?”

  His head dropped forward. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sorry our conversation got so intense. There's stuff you don’t want to talk about. I can respect that.”

  A muscle pulsed at his jaw, and he tensed. “I’ve been doing some thinking, and we do need to talk.” His shoulders slumped with resignation.

  A wave of nausea passed through me. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Things got a little heated. I overstepped, kissed you.”

  “Sawyer, what are you saying?”

  He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. “I’m so bad at this—can’t even voice what’s going on inside my head.”

  “Please try because I’m really confused right now.”

  He straightened and gave me a hard expression. “You tried to quit not long ago, and I should have let you. I hung on to you because I couldn’t bear to see you leave. That was wrong.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn't want to tell you this—delayed this conversation as long as possible. But it’s come to the point where we can’t move forward unless you know. You deserve the truth.”

  “Whatever it is, I won’t judge you.”

  He leaned down, head in his hands for a long moment. “The night of the accident, we had a fund-raising dinner for muscular dystrophy.” He rubbed the area around his temples and continued to stare at the ground. “I dragged my feet because I hated those events. They reminded me of Zach’s frailty and how I might lose him one day.”

  He glanced at me, and I nodded to indicate I was listening.

  “That evening I played basketball with my friends again. The same friends I’d ditched Zach for the night before. It was easy to forget about everything when I played. My mind would go into this space where I didn’t have to think—I just moved.” He stood and walked several steps ahead, his back to me. “Exercise has always been an escape for me. Anyway, I let myself lose track of time. We scheduled to leave at six, but I’d decided it wouldn’t hurt if I delayed a little. I’d only planned on lagging about ten minutes, but when I finally looked at my cell, I had seven missed calls from my mom and way more than ten minutes had passed.” He turned around and glanced at me, taking a breath. “I knew she’d call, but I’d put my phone on silent because I didn’t want any interruptions. Honestly, I never meant to be that late.”

  “I believe you.”

  “When I got home, it was a quarter to seven and Mom and Dad were furious. The event started in fifteen minutes, and we needed at least forty-five minutes to get to the hotel banquet room. My parents would have already left but Zach insisted they wait.” His voice trembled. “He refused to go without me. Loyal to the end.” He swiped at his eyes. “I took a few minutes to shower and change, and then we left. On the way, the highway was dark. The street curved around a blind spot, and by the time Dad saw the car driving on the wrong side of the road, it was too late. Mom yelled, 'Boys' just before the impact. The vehicle hit us head-on.”

  “Oh, Sawyer . . .”

  “Our car flipped over, and I was disoriented. The smoke was so thick it burned my eyes. And then intense heat filled the car, and searing pain struck the right side of my face. The sound of the crackling fire—of my own screams of agony—still haunt my dreams at night.” His lips formed a tight line. “My parents, Zach, they were quiet. I think they were knocked unconscious.”

  He shuddered and placed both hands over his face. I stood and walked over, placing a hand on his back.

  “A man pried the car door open and pulled me out of the car, smothering the flames on my face with his jacket. There were other bystanders with him, but the fire had spread, and they weren’t able to get to my family in time.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sawyer.”

  His lips tigh
tened, and he swallowed and then swallowed again so hard it looked painful. “Paramedics rushed me to the hospital, and when Hayden found out, he and Sarah stayed by my side the entire time. The police report said the man who hit us was drunk when he left the bar at seven-thirty in the evening. He’d only been on the road about five minutes before the crash.” His expression darkened. “If we’d left at 6:00 pm when we were supposed to, we would never have encountered that driver. I'm the one that held everyone up. They died because of my selfishness.”

  His words at my interview came back to me. I don’t allow any alcohol in this house. If I ever catch you with even so much as an ounce of liquor, you’re fired.

  It all made sense now.

  “No, Sawyer. That man chose to drive when he had too much to drink. You didn’t cause the accident.”

  “Logically, I understand what you’re saying, but it doesn’t take away the guilt. I only cared about myself that day and how I didn’t want to go to the dinner. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own agenda, they might still be alive today.”

  “Since when are you in control of other people and their actions? Even if you’d left on time, another driver could have hit you. No one can change the will of God.”

  A shadow fell over his face. “That doesn’t remove my responsibility in this.”

  “I read about this lady who lived in Los Angeles. She was afraid she’d die in an earthquake, so she moved to Oklahoma, assuming it would be safer. Three months later she died in a tornado.”

  “Your point?” he asked.

  “We can’t run from God’s plan. It’s better to trust Him and live each day to the fullest than to hold onto fear or guilt and think you have the ability to alter things you have no power over.”

  He closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to let it go. I’m not sure I ever can.”

  “You may have been self-centered and caught up with your friends and your own schedule. That might be something you have to grapple with for the rest of your life, but it’s hardly the same thing as intentionally drinking and then driving.”

  Sawyer pulled his hand away and walked a few paces ahead. “Maybe not, but it’s still hard to live with myself.”

  “Do you realize your guilt has completely immobilized you? It’s keeping you from letting go of the past, from trusting God’s plan for you. He let you live for a reason.” My voice turned pleading. “Don’t squander the time you've been given. You’re using your wealth as a shield to protect you from having to take part in life.”

  His face crumbled, and I reached for him and pulled him close. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and his entire body shook with quiet sobs. I rubbed his back and silently prayed God would heal his heart and help him move past this. When he calmed, he took my hand and held it against his cheek. “I don’t deserve any of what’s happened between us.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “I want you to know I cherish the time we’ve had together and I’ll never forget you, Ivy.”

  That almost sounded like goodbye. “Why are you talking like this? I’m not going anywhere.”

  He wouldn’t make eye contact. “Come on, let’s go back to the house.”

  I stood my ground. “You understand your confession didn’t change anything for us, right?” When he turned away, I squeezed his hand. “Sawyer, look at me.”

  As he did, his eyes filled with so much sorrow I had to suck in a breath.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  He paled, and the shadows on his face gave him a sickly appearance. “I expected this to be the conversation that would end things. Thought you’d hate me after you knew the truth.”

  “Well, I don’t. And I’ll stand by you.”

  His brows drew together, and he appeared troubled. “You remind me of Zach.”

  “Yeah? How so?”

  “You’re loyal to a fault.”

  Chapter 26

  Sawyer

  A few days after the conversation with Ivy in the woods, I rummaged through the downstairs closet, pushing blankets and unused electrical appliances out of the way. The space appeared unorganized, crammed with items I needed to trash. I’d tackle that another day. When I found the item I’d been looking for, I closed the door, just as Ivy walked in.

  Her cheeks were pink, most likely from the cold, and her eyes were unusually bright this morning. Her long hair, full and shiny, begged me to reach out and touch the smooth strands. Good thing I held the ball because I might have done exactly that.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen you hold a basketball,” she said, gaze falling from the ball in my hands to my feet. “And I see you’ve got your sneakers on. Care to play a few rounds?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Her eyes widened. “You want to play?”

  “You seem shocked.”

  “No, not shocked. Happy.”

  “Look, Ivy, the other day our conversation got a little heavy. I want you to know I heard everything you said, and you were right, I’ve been letting guilt keep me from participating in life.” My fingers tightened around the ball and I licked my lips, aware I was about to step over the line of a professional relationship. “I want more with you. I’m willing to make changes, do whatever it takes to make it work between us.” Lifting my gaze to hers, I cleared my throat. “Starting with this. It’s been way too long since I’ve played.”

  Her green eyes were liquid pools, ready to spill over.

  “Don’t cry . . .”

  She wiped a finger over her eyelids and let out a laugh. “I’m such a cry-baby sometimes. I can’t even watch a Hallmark commercial without bawling.” She smiled. “But these are good tears. I’m happy because I want more with you, too.”

  “For the first time in five years, I feel motivated,” I said. She stepped closer, and I stared at a freckle on her nose. I wanted to run my finger over it and kiss it. Letting out a breath, I gathered every trace of discipline I had and restrained myself. I tossed the ball in the air and caught it. “Let’s go.”

  She nodded, following after me. “I used to play with some kids in the neighborhood. It’s been years since I’ve done anything sports-related, but I can wing it.”

  We walked through the house to the backyard where the basketball hoop hung over the detached garage. Bouncing the ball around my feet and in between my legs, I got comfortable with the feel and rhythm. I took a shot, and the ball went right in. Grinning, I caught it on its rebound and dribbled for a while before taking another shot. “That’s how it’s done.”

  Ivy laughed. I expected her to stand on the side and watch for a while, but she jumped in and stole the ball, making a shot of her own. It bounced against the headboard and fell into the hoop. “Not too shabby.”

  She didn't need to know that I'd let her make the shot. “Good job, Shortcake.”

  I swiped the ball away from her and dribbled in a figure eight. She followed, sticking close behind. When I attempted another shot, she stepped in front of me and held her arms up to block. It wasn’t difficult to shoot over her head considering she wasn't very tall. The ball bounced off the headboard and didn’t go in, but I caught it on its way down.

  Moving in closer, Ivy waved her arms about. I hid a grin because it was cute how hard she tried. I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her to the side. With the opposite hand, I made another basket.

  “Hey, not fair. I may not know all the rules, but I’m pretty sure that’s a foul.”

  I laughed. “You’re right. Make a shot.” I tossed the ball to her.

  She centered herself in front of the hoop and then lifted the ball over her head. Just as she was about to throw, I tickled her armpits. She screamed and dropped the ball. I snatched it up and handed it back, lifting an eyebrow. “What happened?”

  She gave me the evil eye. “You know exactly what happened.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She made the shot and did a little dance when it
went it. “Not so bad if I say so myself.”

  “You’re awesome,” I said, high-fiving her.

  We played for about thirty more minutes and then headed back towards the front door, sweat dripping down the side of our faces. Like two kids in high school, we fought over who would go through the door first, neither one of us wanting to give in. Ivy elbowed me in the ribs and pushed her shoulder against my arm. I stuck my huge foot in the doorway, refusing to budge an inch. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt, and then I finally gave in because it was time to be a gentleman and stop messing around.

  I headed towards the kitchen and Ivy followed. Minutes later, we stood in front of the open refrigerator, looking for a snack.

  “You know what sounds really good right now?” Ivy asked.

  “What?”

  “Ice cream.”

  I smiled and shut the door. “I don’t have any left, but I’ll give you my card if you want to run to the store.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “There’s an ice cream parlor in town. Why don’t you come with me?”

  The smile dropped from my face. “If you bring some back, we can watch a movie and relax.”

  “Come on. It’s just one trip. We don’t have to stay long.”

  I scratched the back of my neck and glanced around the room, uneasiness washing through me. Going to church and hiding out in the balcony was one thing. I got there early and left late and never had to rub shoulders with anyone. Hanging out in a tiny ice cream parlor with people milling about would be a different story.

  “I don’t know . . .”

  We left the kitchen and took a seat on the sofa in the living room.

  “Just come. I’ll be with you the whole time,” she said. “I’ll stay close. Promise.”

  I scrunched my forehead and tried to lighten the mood by pretending to consider the offer. “How close exactly?”

  Her lips twitched as if trying to hold back a smile. She grabbed one of the throw pillows and threw it at my head. “Come with me and you’ll find out.”