Page 23 of Salvation
“I almost died.” She says it casually, like those three words aren’t enough to bring me to my knees. I nearly fall right there at her feet. The only thing that keeps me up is the knowledge that I need to hear the rest of her story.
“How?” I croak, my voice cracking. I’m breaking, and I’m all too aware that if I do, there will be no coming back from it.
Maybe that’d be what I deserve.
I’ve spent all these years hating Ivy for what she did when, in reality, I was the villain. She needed me—nearly died—and I wasn’t there.
“Does it matter?” She’s not looking at me again. I don’t blame her. I’m only now realizing how much I failed her, but I need her eyes anyway because I need her to understand that everything about this matters.
“Sunshine, look at me,” I demand, but she shakes her head, her curls flying wild. “Ivy, please.”
Another crack forms inside my chest when she finally turns her head again, and the depth of her despair hits me full force.
“It matters.”
She always mattered—even when I didn’t want her to.
Ivy swallows and then spins toward the counter, bracing her hands against it as if to hold herself up as she stares out the window.
I’m worried she’s dismissing me—she’d have every right to—but after a moment, she begins to speak.
“From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I had this feeling in my stomach—like something awful was going to happen. I couldn’t explain it. At first, I chalked it up to beingscared. I was sixteen and terrified you would hate me for it, and when I finally worked up the courage to tell you, you just stood there, saying nothing. It was my worst fear come to life—”
“Ivy—” I interrupt, but what else is there for me to say? I owe her a million apologies, and that still wouldn’t be enough to change any of this.
She continues as if I haven’t spoken. “Everything after that was just a matter of bad timing. My grandparents weren’t supposed to be home that day, but they were. They stood in the foyer, waiting for me. My grandmother was holding the pregnancy test in her hand when I walked through the door, and my grandfather didn’t give me a chance to explain before he grabbed me by the ear and dragged me into his study. He made it clear that my choices had ruined your life.” She stops, scoffing as she looks back at me over her shoulder. “Never once did he mention my life—only yours.” Looking back out the window, she doesn’t give me a chance to say anything before she continues, “Anyway, the decisions were made for me after that. My grandparents didn’t want to stay in Benton Falls. They couldn’t have anyone knowing I was pregnant. It would have ruined their reputation as upstanding Christians. I put up a fight, but in the end, it didn’t matter. We left the next day to move into their summer home. I tried to talk to you before we left, but they watched me every second. I left a letter with one of the maids, though. She was supposed to give it to you.”
Ivy turns her head again to look at me as if confirming she did, but I shake my head.
“I didn’t get it, Ivy.”
A deep sigh pushes through her lips, and I can’t tell if she believes me.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, finally turning all the way around to face me. I want to argue with her, but I’m afraid she’ll stop if I do. So I stay quiet, and she keeps talking. “After weleft, that bad feeling didn’t go away, but I tried to ignore it. I was determined to be a good mom, even if I had to do it alone. My grandparents tried to convince me to give the baby up for adoption, but I refused. She was—she was a part of me and you, and I’d already lost you. I couldn’t lose her, too. Each day that passed, though, that bad feeling grew stronger and stronger up to the day I went into labor. I drove myself to the hospital. When my grandparents finally showed up, they were furious, but I—I just wanted one moment with my baby that wasn’t shadowed by their presence. In the end, I didn’t get it. After I had her, they placed her in my arms. I got five minutes with our baby while my grandmother scowled down at me the entire time, and then chaos ensued. Willow started turning blue. They pulled her out of my arms, and I tried to follow. But I—I started to hemorrhage, lost too much blood at once, and when I woke up, my grandmother was still standing over my bed. She wouldn’t look at me when she told me our baby didn’t make it. I always thought it was because she was disgusted with me—that I had done something wrong—but she lied. My grandfather made her. He was so afraid of what others might think. I don’t understand everything, and I’ll never get a chance to ask. That letter in the envelope is all the information I have. My grandfather paid off a lot of people—forged my signature—and signed away my rights to our daughter. She was placed into foster care and then was adopted at six months old. But I guess my grandmother had a little bit of a conscience over the years because she kept up with her through a private investigator. That’s what the pictures are.”
Pure rage burns through my body until my blood feels like molten lava. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I do Henry Cunningham. It eats at my soul, chipping away another piece of me, but I can’t let it take me—not yet.
“I’m sorry, Ivy, that you ever had to go through that alone, but you aren’t alone now.”
Somehow, I would make this better for her.
Chapter 12
Ivy
My thumb hovers over a number I’ve come to know by heart. Campbell left hours ago, but my skin still feels raw, like I’ve scratched it too hard and now I’m about to bleed.
I don’t know what to do with it—any of it—so instead, I dial the number and press the phone against my ear, listening to it ring as I wait for my fiancé to answer.
My pulse kicks up, and I slip my thumb into my mouth, chewing at the side of my nail.
Don’t pick up. Don’t pick up.
The chant is so loud inside my head that it starts to ache. I sewed myself together a long time ago, but the stitches are beginning to come undone.
It’s not supposed to be this way. Brecks and I are getting married at the end of the year, yet the idea of that turns my stomach inside out. We’ve hardly spoken since I’ve been in Benton Falls, only texting in passing. The moment I found out about my daughter, I should have wanted to call him—to confide in him—but all I felt was dread.
“Hello.” Brecks’s strong voice rumbles through the line, and that dread sinks deeper.
