A Moment in Time, page 18
Her stomach tightened at the thought of going back to Savoy’s Spicy Sauce on Monday. She didn’t dislike working at the store, but it certainly wasn’t her passion. Not like it was for her father and Kurt. At the sound of someone clearing their throat, Ivy turned her head, happy to see Claire standing behind her holding a large sketchpad.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to say hello.” Claire eyed the flowers draped in front of Violet’s headstone. “Beautiful yellow roses you brought for your sister.”
“They’re not from me. Probably Violet’s fiancé. He knew it was her favorite.” Ivy looked up at Claire. “What are you doing here?”
“I haven’t visited my mom’s grave since being back. Plus, this is the best place to see the sunset.”
“I was just marveling at the view myself.” Ivy gazed at the glowing yellow ball and watched it melt into the horizon. She motioned to the pad in Claire’s hand and asked, “Were you drawing?”
“Just a rough sketch with colored pencils so I can recreate the scene on canvas. It’s funny, but ever since I’ve been back, I’ve had an urge to paint.”
“Can I see it?”
Claire sat and handed Ivy the sketchpad. Rough drawing or not, it was beautiful. In fact, it looked like a finished piece. Claire had captured the vibrant hues perfectly, along with the many headstones, one in particular, which had a name engraved on it.
“Is that your mom?” Ivy lightly ran a finger over the name Frances.
Claire nodded.
“What was she like?”
Sadness filled Claire’s eyes as she looked at the drawing. Plainly it didn’t matter that her mother had died over twenty-five years ago. She still missed her. Ivy’s heart not only went out to Claire but Blaze as well. He must have been devastated to lose his wife and be faced with the task of raising a young daughter on his own. Claire had said that Henny had helped, but it still must have been difficult.
“She always seemed to be filled with joy,” Claire said with a faraway look on her face. “I’m sure she had bad days, but she never showed it even when she was sick. She always said that the purpose in life was to look for the positives and enjoy every moment. She lived by that motto.”
“Frances sounds amazing.” Ivy felt the need to say the woman’s name aloud, as though that would make her more real. She wished she could have met someone who had been so important to Claire.
“I wonder sometimes if she’d be proud of me.”
Ivy gawked at Claire, incredulous. Who wouldn’t be proud of her? “I’m sure your mom is looking down on you and smiling. You’re successful, beautiful, talented, kind.”
Claire’s cheeks tinted pink, probably because of the compliment, but Ivy had meant all that and much more.
“Before I came to St. Augustine my friend, Denny, was preaching to me about not living in the moment. I didn’t let on at the time, but he was right. I’m forever waiting to be happy. When I get the promotion or the relationship or the new car and on and on.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. Everyone does that.”
“My mother didn’t, and she was the happiest person I’ve ever known. She didn’t let the past or the future stop her from enjoying every moment.”
“I could learn a lot from her. I’ve certainly been living in the past.” Ivy placed both feet flat on the ground and hugged her knees tight. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday after I found Violet’s bucket list. You were right. She wouldn’t want me to blame myself.” Ivy paused and chewed her lower lip. “I’ve also been thinking that maybe I should quit the hot-sauce store and go to that clock-restoration college in Philadelphia. Working in the shop was always Violet’s plan, not mine.”
A bright smile transformed Claire’s face. “That’s wonderful! You should totally do that.”
Suddenly a car pulled into the gravel parking lot, and they both looked toward the entrance of the cemetery. Bruiser got out of the driver’s side, opened the passenger door, and held out his arm for Myra. That was weird. Myra insisted on walking everywhere and never let anyone drive her, especially a stranger. Ivy watched as they walked down the path, heading straight toward them.
“What brings you two out here?” Ivy asked, studying Myra closely for any signs of distress.
“It’s getting dark, and I didn’t think it was safe for Myra to walk here alone, so I gave her a lift,” Bruiser said.
Ivy squinted, not liking that he’d answered for them both. She turned her attention to the elderly woman. “Is everything okay? What are you doing at the cemetery?”
Myra drew her eyebrows together. “The same thing as you, I imagine. Talking to the dead.”
“Who are you visiting?” Claire asked.
“My sister. She’s over there.” Myra pointed.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry you lost her.”
Confusion flashed across Myra’s face. “I didn’t lose her. I told you she’s over there.”
Ivy grinned. “I’m here visiting my sister, too. And Claire is seeing her mom.”
“Lots of dead people in this world,” Myra mumbled as she walked away, presumably heading for her sister’s grave.
Without an invitation, Bruiser plopped down next to them. Ivy scooted over several inches since he’d totally invaded her personal space.
“It’s great to see you two together,” Bruiser said, brightly.
“What do you mean?” Ivy asked.
“You’re not letting the family feud stop you from being friends.” Bruiser looked at Claire. “I was telling Ivy the other day that it’s a real shame about Hubert and Blaze, and if there’s anything I can do to help them get together, I will.”
“Thanks, but I doubt anything could accomplish that,” Claire said.
Ivy studied Bruiser closely. “How do you know Myra?”
“We met by the St. Augustine statue in the park. It’s a beautiful likeness of the saint.” Bruiser released a contented sigh. “Do you know how the town got its name?”
The hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stood up. He was obviously attempting to steer the subject away from him and Myra.
Claire raised her hand, as though answering a question in grade school. “A Catholic priest named it St. Augustine in the 1800s.”
“That’s only part of the story.” Bruiser leaned over and pulled out a stick, which had probably been poking him in the butt, and adjusted his position before he continued.
“In 1812 there were two brothers, Louis and Charles Rousseau. Louis was a land developer, and Charles owned sugar-cane plantations. They both claimed to have founded the town, which sparked a huge feud between them.” Bruiser paused, cocked his head, and said, “Kinda like your two families.”
Ivy and Claire quickly glanced at each other.
“Anyway,” Bruiser said. “When their dear mother was on her deathbed, she made them promise that they’d end the disagreement or else she’d never rest in peace. After she died, the stubborn brothers didn’t do as she asked but instead continued to bitterly disagree over naming the town Louisville or Charlestown. They decided to settle it in a gunfight, which, unfortunately, resulted in the death of both of them.”
“That’s terrible.” Claire said.
“That’s when Father Paul Du Ru stepped in and was credited for naming the town after St. Augustine, since he was a saint who preached about forgiveness. It’s why that particular quote is engraved on his statue in the park.”
“What quote?” Claire asked, wide-eyed with interest.
“To withhold forgiveness is to take poison and expect the unforgiven to die.”
Ivy had noticed the engraving on the bottom of the statue but had never taken the time to read it. She repeated the words in her head several times. It was a powerful statement and one that rang true. On many occasions she was sure if Blaze and Hubert had been holding a gun, they would have fired out of anger. They were just like Charles and Louis Rousseau.
“That goes for forgiving oneself as well,” Bruiser said.
Chills ran up and down Ivy’s spine when he looked directly at her. It was as though he knew she blamed herself for Violet’s death. That was impossible, though. The only person she’d ever confided in was Claire.
“That’s really interesting,” Claire said. “How do you know so much about the history of the town?”
“I’ve been around a long time,” Bruiser said with a slight grin. “A really long time.”
* * *
Ivy sat in her car outside her parents’ house and mindlessly drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, attempting to muster the courage to go inside. It was simple, really. All she needed to do was get out of the car, walk down the sidewalk, and open the front door. Anyone with feet and hands could accomplish that task. Why then did she want to put the car in reverse and speed away? Probably because she was about to reveal a secret that her parents might despise her for. It was a horrible thought, but in Ivy’s dark nights of the soul she’d often wondered if they’d wished she’d died instead of Violet.
Regardless, that was the chance she’d have to take, since she’d never be able to move forward with her life until the truth came out. Even admitting her secret to Claire had left her feeling like a heavy boulder had been lifted off her chest, and she’d been able to breathe freely again after many years. Ivy had been atoning for the self-imposed sin by working at Savoy’s Spicy Sauce far too long. The joy she felt restoring antique clocks these past few days was proof that she needed to follow her passion. This was supposed to be her life, not Violet’s.
Feeling suddenly self-assured, Ivy exited the car and strode confidently into the house. Her mother was sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine, and her father looked relaxed in his recliner watching the History Channel.
“This is a nice surprise,” Sherry said when Ivy walked into the living room. “Both of my kids are here at the same time.”
Katy must have dropped Kurt off, since his car wasn’t in the driveway. Ivy knew he’d be supportive, so she was thankful he was here. He bounded down the stairs, stopped when he saw her, and glared at her with a sour expression. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t be supportive after all, considering he was probably still upset she was working at the Old-Timer with Claire.
On now-shaky limbs, she stood in the center of the room and said, “I need to tell all of you something.” Her voice sounded strong, even though she was quivering inside.
Hubert leaned over since Ivy was blocking half of the screen, and Sherry still had her head buried in a page. Ivy glanced at Kurt, who had a what-are-you-about-to-do expression.
Ivy cleared her throat. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
“What is it, honey?” Sherry asked without taking her eyes off the magazine.
“Could you move over? I can’t see.” Hubert waved his hands.
“What are you doing?” Kurt asked warily, probably thinking she was about to tell them about the Old-Timer.
Ivy snatched the remote control from her father’s hand and pressed the power button, the room suddenly eerily quiet. Shock covered everyone’s face; no one ever touched Hubert’s remote.
“What the…” Hubert blinked rapidly with his mouth wide open.
“I need to say something that isn’t going to be easy, and it requires everyone’s full attention.”
“You don’t need to do this,” Kurt said sternly and sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Yes, I do, and this isn’t what you think.”
“Wait a minute.” Hubert raised an eyebrow. “The last time you said that, you told us you were gay.”
Sherry closed the magazine and placed it on the coffee table. “This sounds serious. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mom.” But she wasn’t fine. Now that all eyes were on her, she felt sick to her stomach. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back now. She inhaled a shaky breath and said, “It has to do with the day Violet died.”
Three faces turned ghostly white. Ivy couldn’t blame them. No one liked to think about the horrid day that had changed their lives forever. A wave of nausea washed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not sure she could continue. She wished Claire was standing beside her, giving her strength like she’d done before. Obviously, it was Ivy’s imagination, but she felt Claire’s reassuring touch on her lower back and the kind look in her eyes. With Claire at her side, she could accomplish anything.
Ivy’s eyelids fluttered open, and she said, “For the past six years, I’ve blamed myself for Violet’s death.” Ivy turned to her father. “Remember when you said that Violet could go on the first ride, but I convinced you to let us flip a coin?”
Hubert nodded, looking grief-stricken.
“It was a double-sided coin. I tricked Violet into letting me go first. I should have been on the second ride. I should have died, not her.”
Ivy’s voice trembled as she spoke, but she’d gotten it out. They finally knew the truth. Her entire body tensed, and she shoved her fists into her pockets to hide her shaking hands. Within seconds, Hubert crumpled into a ball in his chair, shoulders shaking and deep guttural cries escaping his lips. Ivy had never seen him so distraught before, even at Violet’s funeral.
“No,” he said through gasps. “It was my fault. I was the one flying the plane. I should have steered clear of the trees. I should have tried to land in a different place.”
Sherry jumped up and hugged her husband. “You’re not to blame. No one is to blame,” she said and looked directly at Ivy.
It had never dawned on Ivy that her father might feel guilty for Violet’s death as well. Had he been torturing himself all these years like she had?
Ivy knelt in front of him. “Mom is right. It’s no one’s fault. If Violet were here, she’d say, ‘You two are such drama queens. Get over it already,’” Ivy said in an impressive impersonation of her sister.
Hubert snorted and wiped his eyes. “That sounds like her.”
Ivy held his hand. “It was a horrible accident, but that’s all it was…an accident. I’m just so sorry it was Violet and not…”
Sherry crouched beside the recliner and faced Ivy. “What were you going to say?”
“It’s okay, Mom. I know Violet was everyone’s favorite.”
“Wait a second,” Sherry said, firmly. “We love both of our amazing daughters. You can’t possibly think we’d be any less devastated if you had died.” Tears swelled in her eyes.
Ivy’s throat tightened, so much so that it was painful to swallow. “That has crossed my mind.”
Sherry put a hand over her heart. “Oh my God. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. We love you so much.” She threw her arms around Ivy’s neck.
Hubert squeezed her arm. “Of course, we do. You’re our precious girl.”
In the warmth of her mother’s embrace, Ivy felt more cherished and accepted than she ever had. It wasn’t so much the words that her parents had spoken but the palpable emotion emanating from them. That couldn’t be fabricated. All the years of not feeling good enough melted away. Obviously, she had projected her own sense of low self-esteem onto her parents, but that wasn’t how they felt. After a hug that seemed to last forever, Sherry released her hold.
“I love you, too,” Ivy said and wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. The last six years would have been a lot different if I had.”
“What do you mean?” Hubert took a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. They were all a crying mess.
“I started working at Savoy’s because that’s what Violet had planned to do. In some twisted way, I was trying to make up for what I’d done.” She paused and looked at her mother and then her father. “I want to go to the college I planned to attend. Being a horologist and restoring timepieces is the career I’ve always wanted.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Sherry said, brightly. “Your grandmother would be so proud.”
Ivy looked at her father. “Dad?”
“Well,” he said, looking none too pleased, “I’d hate to lose you at the shop, but I don’t want you to be there for all the wrong reasons.”
Ivy was so happy she felt like she could levitate off the ground. This had gone better than she could have ever imagined.
“I triple that.” Kurt put a hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “Do what makes you happy. I can’t believe you never told me about what happened with Violet.” Hurt flashed in his eyes.
Ivy looked up at her brother. “I’m sorry, but I never told anyone until now.” Ivy lied, knowing he’d be devastated to know that she’d confided in Claire instead of him.
Chapter Eighteen
Claire entered the Blazing Chili Pepper, doing a quick sweep of the shop for her father. They hadn’t spoken since he’d caught Ivy at Aunt Henny’s house. Being at the cemetery last night reminded Claire that she had only one parent left, so she wanted to smooth things over. She walked to the back and rang the bell by the cash register. Within seconds, Blaze came out of the storeroom.
“What are you doing here?” His expression was stern and his eyes cold. Obviously, he was still upset.
Claire picked up a bottle of hot sauce and pretended to read the label. “Just wanted to say hey.”
“That girl still working in Henny’s store?”
Claire sighed and placed the bottle back on the shelf. “Her name is Ivy, and tomorrow is her last day.”
“You gonna tell your aunt about this?” he asked, curtly.
“Of course. And I’m calling Jimbo this morning.”
“Good, ’cause Henny will be back tomorrow, you know.”
“I know. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Blaze huffed as an awkward silence settled between them. Apparently, things were still tense.
“Well,” Claire said. “Guess I should go open the store. Will I see you tomorrow night at Aunt Henny’s to welcome her back?”
