Arlene James

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CHAPTER ONE

It looked just the same.

Ivy let the hunter green, barn-style door slowly swing closed behind her as she surveyed the homey lobby of the Heavenly Arms Motel. Hap’s old rocking chair still sat before the potbellied stove in the corner, and the game table, its surface worn by the shuffle of countless dominoes, still claimed center stage. On closer inspection, one of the black leather couches appeared to be a replacement for a former version, but it all felt just as she recalled, much more of a living room than a motel lobby, despite the chest high counter behind her.

In nearly seven years, nothing appeared to have changed, not at the motel and apparently not in her hometown of Eden, Oklahoma. On one hand, Ivy found that comforting; on the other, she prayed that this was not a harbinger of things to come.

The sound of a door opening made Ivy turn just as a petite blond in slender jeans and a striped T-shirt emerged from the office to smile across the counter at her. Ivy masked her surprise, partly relieved and partly disappointed. She’d expected Charlotte or one of the other Jeffords. The presence of this small, pretty stranger demonstrated that some things had changed around here, after all.

“Hello. Can I help you?” the blond asked, swinging a chunky toddler up onto her trim hip. Dressed in olive green corduroy overalls and a bright yellow Tee, the boy twinkled blue eyes at Ivy, expecting instant acceptance.

Ivy smiled, despite the pang in her chest, and addressed the blond. “I have a reservation.”
The other woman seemed relieved. “That’s good. We’ve booked a full house.” As she pulled a registration form from beneath the counter she asked, “Here for the reunion?”
Ivy accepted an ink pen and began to fill in the required information as best she could. “That’s right. The reunion.” More than one hopefully.

“Seems to be a big deal around here,” the blond went on.

That, Ivy thought, is an understatement.

The annual high school reunion, perpetually scheduled for the Saturday before Easter, counted as one of the highlights of the year in the small town of Eden and had for as long as Ivy could remember. Tonight’s banquet would be the first that Ivy, at thirty years of age, had attended, however. In the twelve years since she had graduated from Eden Memorial High School, she had returned to her hometown only rarely and not at all for well over six years.

Truth be told, she’d gladly have skipped tonight’s festivities, had they not been her excuse for returning after all this time. She trembled a little, recalling her father’s last words to her.

“If you have any shred of decency left, you won’t ever show your face around here again. You’ve got nothing to say that I want to hear, so don’t bother calling or writing, either.”

She had honored his wishes and had planned always to do so⎯until several months ago when she’d found herself on her knees in a break room at the radio station where she’d worked in Tulsa. The good friend who had knelt with her had held her hand as she’d wept and confessed her many failings.

In the time since, Ivy’s world had literally turned on its head. She had learned that God’s forgiveness had removed the eternal ramifications of her sin and that she owed it to herself and others to try to make amends to those whom her actions had most harmed. But how did she approach someone who never wanted to see her again, let alone ask for forgiveness? She already knew that turning her life over to God did not mean that everything would suddenly start coming up roses. Quite the opposite in some respects. It could make, and had made, life very difficult. Then again, most of the mess was of her own making.

Ivy pushed the form back across the counter and smiled at the pretty blond. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a permanent address at the moment.”

The blond glanced down at what was written on the form before saying, “Oh, that’s all right, Ms. Villard. Your credit card has been approved, and that’s what counts. Welcome back, by the way.”

That might well be the only welcome she would receive, Ivy mused. She hoped, prayed, that her sister Rose would be glad to see her, but their father undoubtedly would not be. Ivy expected that he would refuse to meet with her. Still, she had to try. He had been right, after all, about everything.

Ivy had elected not to inform Rose of her plans to attend the reunion, despite their recent tentative communication via e-mail. As much as Ivy would have liked to spare her younger sister the shock of seeing her unexpectedly after all these years, she knew that she would do better to protect Rose from their father’s anger. Should Olie conclude that Rose had participated in, or even kept mum about, Ivy’s plan, he might well cut Rose and her family from his life as he had Ivy. It seemed best just to show up where she expected her sister to be and let matters proceed from there. Or not, as God willed.
Forcing her thoughts back to the young woman across the counter from her, Ivy trotted out her politest behavior. “Thank you. That’s very kind. Do you mind if I ask your name?”

“Oh.” The blond ducked her head shyly, hunching her slender shoulders. “Sorry. I’m Cara.” She laid a key on the counter and offered her tiny hand, saying, “Number four ought to suit you.”

Ivy accepted the other woman’s hand, clasping it briefly with her own. “Nice to meet you, Cara. Do you mind if I also ask about the Jeffords?”

“Not at all.”

“Do they still own the place then?”

Cara laughed. “Absolutely. Although Hap is thinking about retiring when Charlotte and her husband get their house finished.”

“Charlotte’s married?” Ivy asked, pleasantly surprised. Charlotte had always seemed utterly dedicated to the care of her grandfather.

“She married Tyler Aldrich,” Cara said, rocking back on her heels as if to give the words greater significance.

Ivy could only shake her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know a Tyler Aldrich. I’ve been gone a long time, you see. Is he new to the area?”

Cara chuckled. “Oh, yes. The Aldrich family hail from Dallas. Maybe you’ve heard of the Aldrich grocery store chain?”

“That Tyler Aldrich?” Ivy straightened, blinking. It all but boggled the mind, to think of mild, dutiful Charlotte married to the Aldrich fortune.

Cara nodded, grinning. “He is such a nice a man.”

Before Ivy could inquire further the telephone rang, and Cara hurried to answer it, tossing an apologetic smile over her shoulder. Ivy slid the key into the outer pocket of her soft, roomy leather handbag and left the other woman to her business. The child on her hip watched Ivy as she turned away. He watched still when Ivy glanced back, one hand on the door, as if he sensed the longing in her, bone deep, forever unfulfilled. She gave him a wistful little wave, her bag clutched under her arm, and went out into the blustery, late March afternoon.

Wind spun her long dark hair about her face as she hurried toward the small, boxy SUV hybrid that she’d left parked under the drive-through. Its bronze-brown body and darkly tinted windows hid the fact that it carried the majority of her earthly possessions, everything she hadn’t sold, given away or put into storage before embarking upon a new life.

She tossed the handbag into the passenger seat atop the small suitcase she had packed for what would undoubtedly be a short stay here in Eden. Holding closed the sides of the long, tailored tan jacket that she wore over comfortable black leggings and a matching top, she slid beneath the steering wheel and set the flat sole of one calf-high boot against the brake peddle. A sultry warmth already softened the edge of the stirring breeze, so the boots soon would have to be retired for the season.

Easter had come early this year, but as always it brought spring with it, an appropriate time for, God willing, renewal. It seemed right to journey out on faith, trusting that if the job for which she had applied at the radio station in Oklahoma City did not come through, something else would. Thankfully, Ivy still had connections in this part of the world, though explaining the break-up of the “Firebrand Phillips and Ivy” format was proving difficult. Still, being half of what had once been the most popular program on commercial radio didn’t hurt.

Except that it had. Did.

It was never easy when you turned out to be exactly the fool that others had claimed.

She had reason to hope, though. As sorry as she was for the wrong choices she had made in the past and as willing to atone for them, she knew in Whom she had placed her faith, and she trusted Him to bring a brighter future. Perhaps it would never be what she had once dreamed it might, but she was content to do her best and leave the rest to her Lord.

Yes, she very much wanted to see her sister, to hear the sound of her voice and be enfolded in her embrace. Most of all, she wanted to recognize welcome in Rose’s tawny brown eyes, but what would be, would be. With God’s help, Ivy could survive her disappointment if Rose turned her back. She had survived before when their father had done the same, but this time she would not be all on her own. Never again would she be all on her own, even if she should forever be alone as Brand had predicted.

As she donned her ubiquitous little black dress with its flirty, knee-length hem and crisscrossing spaghetti straps that so closely matched those of her spiked heels, Ivy imagined the look of surprise that she would undoubtedly see on Rose’s face. She prayed that she would also see welcome and pleasure there⎯and that ultimately her father would agree to meet with her, as well. She asked for the right words to say and the right tone to take and for strength and grace in what would surely be a difficult moment.

Ivy never expected that, when she finally laid eyes on her sister again, she would find Rose obviously pregnant with her third child or that the depth of pain and envy that she would feel at the sight of that big rounded belly would diminish the much anticipated joy of her only sister’s loving embrace.



As assistant principal, history teacher and all-around coach, Ryan Jefford was well known around the alma mater, a permanent fixture, as some had said. He liked it that way. After college he had returned to Eden and devoted himself to educating the youth of his hometown. It was a decision he’d never regretted.

He loved these yearly Easter-weekend reunions, delighted in seeing his old classmates and, at the advanced age of thirty-four, even former students. Easily recognizable, despite the soft light from the candles that glittered around the decorated cafeteria, he’d long been the unofficial host of these annual events, no matter the ever-changing composition of the committee in charge. As he worked his way through the milling, chattering throng, dispensing handshakes, back-slaps and smiles, he felt a sense of pride in this place and all who had passed through its portals over the years, and that definitely included his older brother, whom Ryan spied in the distance.

At four-and-a-half inches over six feet, Holt tended to stand out in a crowd. It came as no surprise to see Holt’s pretty, petite wife Cara at her husband’s side, beaming. Ryan wondered if she’d stopped smiling in the three weeks since their wedding. As he moved toward them, he saw that his sister Charlotte and brother-in-law Ty stood near by, surrounded by a crowd of curious alumni anxious to meet the wealthy grocery store magnate.

Ty seemed politely amused by the interest, while a surprisingly polished Charlotte looked on with subdued pride. Ryan chuckled to himself, imagining that some of those gathered around Tyler were disappointed to find that such a wealthy man seemed so ordinary and down-to-earth. That everyman persona could be a tad misleading, however, as Tyler Aldrich could, and did, get things done with speed and ease, things that the average fellow could barely imagine. Only a few weeks ago, he’d helped Cara and Holt settle a tricky custody battle with her late husband’s parents via a single phone call and, in Ty’s stated opinion, modest check. It hadn’t hurt that Holt and Cara had quickly married, either, ostensibly to provide her delightful baby boy Ace with a stable, two-parent home. In truth, Holt and Cara were as deeply in love as Charlotte and Ty, and Ryan took no small measure of credit for having helped them realize it.

Now everyone said that Ryan’s turn would surely come to take that much vaunted hike down the aisle, but Ryan himself discounted that. He remembered the difficulties of his parents’ marriage and knew too well the great time demands of his calling. As an educator, he took his work very seriously. He loved his family, and they truly came first in his heart, but he had to admit that their needs often came second to those of his students and school. His family and his passion for education centered his life, just as his faith, church and convictions centered his spirit. He simply had nothing left over for romance. Fortunately, he found great contentment in his work.

“Looking sharp there, Mr. Jefford,” his big brother greeted him, flicking the lapel of Ryan’s black suit.

Ryan straightened the knot of his silk tie, grass green in keeping with the school colors. He had a yellow one, as well as several yellow-and-green striped varieties, at home in his closet, but the reunion committee always went with yellow rosebud boutonnières, so he routinely chose the green silk for these events.

“You’re looking better than usual yourself,” he said to Holt, then, bending slightly, he winked at his sister-in-law. “Well done, Cara.”

She laughed while Holt rolled his eyes, but he snaked an arm around his bride’s slender shoulders as if to prevent some other slob from snatching her away in an excess of sartorial envy. Ryan smiled to see it. Holt and Cara’s helpless, starry-eyed delight in each other pleased Ryan as much as Charlotte and Ty’s settled contentment. An old married couple of almost four months, this sister and her husband had displayed a firm, harmonious ease from the beginning, despite the vast differences in their backgrounds.

Distracted momentarily by the chairwoman of the reunion committee, who wanted to make sure that he was prepared to welcome the returning alumni as soon as they sat down to the dinner, Ryan turned away from his siblings. That’s when he saw Ivy Villard.

He knew her identity at once, though it had been many years since he’d last laid eyes on her. Back then she’d been wearing a green-and-yellow cheerleader’s uniform, not so different from those that the girls serving the tables wore tonight. For some reason she was the very last person he’d have expected to attend the reunion. Yet, there she sat at a table with her sister Rose and brother-in-law Daniel Halsey, a teacher and baseball coach at the Junior High School.

She looked almost the same, her long dark hair hanging straight down her back without part or bangs, a perfect frame for her slender oval face and big, deeply-set, cinnamon brown eyes. That cunningly simple dress emphasized an edge of sophistication and maturity, honed, no doubt by the years that had passed. The dusky tone of her creamy skin gave testament to the thread of Native American ancestry, which he knew came from her maternal grandmother, and called attention to the shimmering pale pink lipstick that adorned her wide, mobile lips.

He’d thought her pretty back in high school. Now she was nothing less than stunning, and he wondered what she’d been doing without herself all these years. He wasn’t the only one to notice her.

“Isn’t that Ivy?” Charlotte asked, coming to stand beside him.

“Why, yes, I believe it is.”

“Who’s Ivy?” Tyler asked, appearing at Charlotte’s other side.

“Used to be head cheerleader around here,” Holt supplied. “She was what, two or three years ahead of you, sis?”

“Three,” Ryan said. “Class of ’95.”

“Oh, I know her!” Cara exclaimed. “She’s staying at the motel.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at this news. Why, he wondered, did she not stay with her father? It occurred to him then that he hadn’t seen Olie Villard in some time. He’d seen and heard even less of Ivy. Now Ryan wondered just how the old man fared, and if some difficulty with him might account for Ivy’s sudden reappearance after all these years. Concerned, he addressed his brother.

“Have you seen Olie around lately?”

Holt shook his head. “He’s always been one to keep to himself. I have heard, though, that he’s attending the Magnolia church with Rose and her family.”

The church on Magnolia Avenue, which happened to be situated quite near Ryan’s house, was a “plant” of First Church, which, being landlocked, could no longer meet the needs of its burgeoning congregation. The pastor at First Church, Grover Waller, had encouraged several young families to consider transferring to Magnolia Christian in order to help support that fledgling congregation and its young pastor, Davis Latimer. Ryan had considered making the move himself, but the Jefford family had been members of First Church for three generations.

Ryan couldn’t resist the urge to glance back in Ivy’s direction. “You don’t suppose Olie’s ill, do you?”

Holt’s expression grew troubled. “He didn’t look well the last time I saw him, but with Olie it’s hard to tell.”

Not the most pleasant of men, Olie had always worn a rather sour expression. Some said he’d been that way since his wife had abandoned the family many years earlier, but that seemed like an unreasonably long time to hold a grudge to Ryan. He just barely remembered the woman himself, but he knew that Ivy had resented her. He’d once overheard her say, with that certainty peculiar to teenagers, that it would have been easier for everyone if her mother had died when she, Ivy, was a baby.

Ryan vehemently opposed that notion himself, since his own mother had taken her life after his father had died in an oil field accident. That experience had been anything but easy, though it had all happened long ago, almost fourteen years. Shocked to realize that it had been at least that long since he had last spoken to Ivy, he abruptly decided to rectify the situation at once.

“I’ll be back.”

“But you just got here,” Holt protested. Ryan ignored him and fixed his gaze on Ivy’s table as he made his way through the chattering throng. His siblings he could visit with anytime. This might be his only chance to catch up with Ivy Villard, and suddenly that seemed much more important.



“You haven’t changed a bit.”

Ivy looked up. This was not the first time she’d heard that particular sentiment tonight. It could not, of course, have been less accurate, but at thirty she was old enough to appreciate hearing it. She was not sure how she recognized this particular speaker, however, for he had changed immensely. Memory slid along her nerve endings, recalling a tall, thin young man with heavy features and extremities and too much thick, wavy, golden brown hair. He’d grown into those features, and those hands and feet no longer looked like they belonged to someone else. Even the hair fit now. She smiled.

“Hello, Ryan Jefford, and thank you.”

Ryan’s oddly familiar hazel eyes warmed. “It’s good to see you, Ivy. It’s been too long.”

“Yes. Yes, it has,” she agreed, shifting sideways to drape an arm across the back of her folding chair. She let her gaze sweep down and then up again. “You don’t look anything like your brother or Hap,” she told him. “I saw Holt standing over there and knew him at once.”

Ryan chuckled. “I take after our other grandfather, Michael Carl Ryan, or so I’m told. Seems appropriate since I get most of my name from him.”

“He must have been a handsome man,” she said bluntly, making a show of reading his name from the badge pinned to his chest, “because you, Ryan Carl Jefford, look great.”

Inclining his head in thanks, Ryan said, “Well, then, that makes two of us, Ivy Madeline Villard.”

She laughed. To her surprise, he pulled out the chair on her right and sat down. After exchanging words of greeting with Rose, he began to chat with Daniel about an upcoming track and field event, allowing Ivy a moment to take stock.

In the past, she had found Ryan to be a very nice person, but rather stolid and even a little boring. She no longer trusted the judgments of the foolish young woman she had been, however. That dope had chosen the flash and dash of Brand Phillips⎯he wasn’t called FireBrand for nothing⎯over marriage and family.

Looking back, she marveled at how easily she had jettisoned the idea of a normal, responsible life. She could not claim that she hadn’t known what she was doing. Brand had made no secret of the fact that he considered marriage and parenthood unnecessary, confining, boring and a trap. He’d promised her a grand adventure, however, and in all honesty she had to admit that he had delivered, but at what cost to her!

For one horrible moment, Ivy hovered on the verge of tears. The pain never seemed to leave her for long or diminish in intensity. Ryan stunned her by seeming to read, with appalling ease, the distress that she had hidden for so very long. Abandoning the discussion with her brother-in-law, he reached toward her, his big, heavy hand covering hers lightly.

“You okay?” Blinking, she stared in stupefaction for several seconds before he went on. “I can’t help wondering if all is well or if some problem has brought you back just in time for the reunion.”

“Problem?” she echoed.

“Is your father all right?” he asked.

Ivy swung her gaze back to him, her mouth opened to blurt that she wouldn’t know, but then Rose jumped in, the stylish cut of her nut brown hair swinging jauntily above her shoulders as she nodded. “Dad is fine,” she supplied.

“Looking forward to another grandchild,” Daniel added, smoothing a hand over his wife’s distended belly.

Ryan chuckled, and Ivy felt his hand relax atop hers just before he took it away. “Home to greet the new baby, then?”

“Not exactly,” Ivy hedged.

“That is,” Rose interjected uncertainly, “the baby is still two months or better away.”

Ivy frowned, her gaze going at once to Rose’s greatly expanded waistline. Though shorter and sturdier than her, Rose looked much too large to be eight or more weeks away from giving birth.

“Are you sure you’re not having twins?” Ryan joked, apparently agreeing with Ivy’s assessment.

Rose crinkled her pert nose. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I’m like an elephant.”

“You are not,” Daniel insisted. As near to full-blood Choctaw as could be found, Daniel surprised Ivy by flushing hotly. Even the scalp beneath his ink black hair seemed to glow a dark, dusky red. “It’s what they call a high pressure pregnancy, lots of fluid.”

“All the more cushion for our little girl,” Rose said, smiling down at her stomach.

Little girl.

Ivy’s heart cracked open inside her chest, and the grief she’d kept bottled up for all these years poured out. Memories stormed her; yet, she managed, just barely, to maintain a rigid calm.

“It’s a girl,” she heard the nurse say, cold metal gliding over her skin as the fuzzy, confusing, black-and-white image coalesced on the screen beside the examination table.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor announced months later, whisking the baby away.

A little girl, whom Ivy had never held or even seen, except at a distance.

A little girl who called someone else “Mommy.”





































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