Page 50 of Salvation
I rub the back of my neck, knowing my time of peace—if it can be called that—is up. “Yeah, Mom. I guess we should.”
“I’ll just be going,” Ivy says. “It was good seeing you again, Della Rae.”
She spins, ready to sprint inside, but my mother’s voice brings her to a halt. “I think this conversation involves you, too, young lady. You get back here.”
Slowly, Ivy turns back around, looking like a scolded puppy with her head tucked down as she avoids my mom’s gaze.
“Now, would someone like to explain how, after sixteen years, I’m just now finding out I have a granddaughter?” Mom’s hands go to her hip, her foot tapping out a steady beat as she waits for our answer, and I wince at her bluntness.
I haven’t had a chance to tell Ivy that my parents know about Willow, not since I showed up at her house to find our daughter there. When I look over at Ivy, though, she doesn’t look mad. Instead, she almost looks relieved. Ivy’s always had a good relationship with my mom. I never thought about how hard it would be for Ivy not to have her to confide in.
My fingers curl into fists, and all I want to do is slam them into something. We were robbed—all of us. And there’s no one to blame for the injustice of it all, but I’m still angry anyway.
“Because we don’t talk about our problems, Mom, “ I spit out. “We gloss over them and pretend they don’t exist. We’re still doing that with Isaiah.” I look at my dad over my mom’s shoulder. “We’re supposed to be men, and men man up and fix their problems on their own. That’s what you always taught me to do, and it’s what I did. I tried to at least, but I was sixteen. A kid. Not a man.”
“Now, Campbell, I never meant you couldn’t talk tous.”
I shrug, still burning up from the inside. “Maybe not, but that’s how it felt.”
My dad opens his mouth as if he has more to say, but it comes as no surprise when he clamps it shut again and shakes his head.
I refuse to look away from him, though. Logically, I know this isn’t his fault. The only two people to blame are dead and gone, but logic rarely prevails in the face of anger. And Ineedsomeone to be angry at. So I keep his gaze, not backing down from this emotion coursing through my veins. My chest heaves up and down, hating the man in front of me for making me feel weak—and hating myself even more for that hatred.
A soft hand presses against my arm, and I turn my head to find Ivy staring at me. The anger melts away, and sadness replaces it, washing over me until I’m drowning in it. But I guess at least I’m not numb—not right now, anyway.
I rip my gaze away from hers, feeling too raw and exposed with her eyes on me. My mom is staring at us with a look I can’t read. She looks like she knows something. At least someone does because I feel like I know nothing anymore. Everything I thought I knew has been turned upside down and emptied out, and now I’m walking through life blind.
I blow out a breath, unable to take my mom’s knowing look anymore, either. “Look, for now, all you need to know is that we were lied to. Ivy and I both thought our baby had died, and talking about it wasn’t going to change anything. But thingshavechanged, and there’s an opportunity for us to be in her life now. We are going to have dinner with her adoptive parents next week so they can get to know us better. They are good people—good parents from what I can see—but they have questions. And so do we.”
“Alright,” Mom says, clapping her hands. “I’ll make my pasta salad.”
Ivy fidgets beside me, and I already know what she’s thinking. If my mother is involved, the whole community will be involved. It’s just the way she is, but this is our chance to get to know Willow, and I won’t have it ruined by a bunch of nosy busybodies.
“That’s okay, Mom. We have it handled.”
She looks as if she wants to argue, but I cut her off, placing my hand on Ivy’s back. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your door.”
As we walk away, Ivy leans in closer, the smell of jasmine wafting over me, and whispers, “Thank you.”
Sadness grips my throat and squeezes. On instinct, I reach up, wrapping my favorite curl around my finger and tug before I place a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ve got you, sunshine.”
And I guess it’s better late than never.
Chapter 25
Campbell
16 Years Old
Ihaven’t seen Ivy since her birthday two days ago. Now she’s sitting in a pew three rows ahead of me, and I can’t stop looking at her.
Friday night, I’d walked her home and kissed her while her cheeks flushed with heat. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she pulled away, giving me one more lingering look before climbing the tree outside her bedroom window and disappearing inside. I don’t know how long I stood there, staring up at her window, but at some point, the happiness I’d felt while she’d been in my arms turned to anxiety, bubbling in my stomach.
What if she regretted what we’d done? What if this ruins our relationship?
I spent all day yesterday worrying. I had to convince myself not to march to her house and demand to talk to her. The only reason I didn’t was because I knew it’d only get her in trouble with Mr. Cunningham. I’d planned on talking to her today at church, but she’s hardly looked my way. The knot in my stomach tightens.
“If you stare any harder at her, you’re going to bore a hole in the back of her head.” Hayes’s whisper is low enough thatnone of the adults turn to look at us, but I still pull my gaze away from Ivy to glare at him.
