Take a Chance on Me (11 page)

Now she had a date. With an entire family.

She pushed out through the double doors onto the sidewalk, where the moon, already hung in the sky, draped a golden path home. The air smelled of barbecues caught in the fresh wind off the lake. She had chosen to walk to work today, delighted that the courthouse sat only three blocks from her apartment.

The charms of a small town.

Like the sound of live music drifting from a nearby outside eatery. And unknown neighbors who waved to her from their porch. And . . . meeting someone’s entire family.

Ivy pressed a hand to her stomach, empty since she’d forced down the deli ham sandwich at lunch. But the waves inside had nothing to do with hunger.

She was suddenly sitting again in a waiting room, about to meet a potential adoptive family. All her dreams curled up into one hot ball inside.

She was ten years old, thinking
maybe
. Maybe they’d like her instantly. Maybe the father would swing her up into his arms, the mother would smile at her, beaming, call her a princess, make her their own.

Yes, and maybe they’d take her home, where she’d never have to leave, where she could have her own bed, maybe carve her name into a backyard tree.

She ran her hand across her cheek, dispelled the moisture there. Foolish maybes. She would harbor no such what-ifs for Darek.

So what that he had those amazing eyes that turned all soft and sweet when he looked at his son. And that more than once she’d let herself wonder what it might feel like to step into those arms, thick with hardworking muscle. She too well remembered the tangy scent of the night when they parked on the overlook, and she simply couldn’t erase the way he’d soothed Tiger’s fears in
the ER with soft, tender tones, or the way he’d taken the little boy onto his lap to read to him.

Or even today, watching his son as he’d recited the book back to Ivy in the grocery store. Pride amid all that affection.

She could be in big trouble if she didn’t stop this nonsense before it even started. Tiger was sure to get hurt if Darek decided he wanted to keep redeeming himself.

No, despite his sudden turn away from the dark and crabby side to a man she might actually enjoy, she’d seen his shadows—and not only on their date, but today, when wrestling with his son over cereal. Didn’t he know you never fought a battle over food with a child?

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just trying to figure it out, trying to be both mother and father. But—oh no. She stopped, wincing. He didn’t ask her out for her parenting skills, did he?

This could only be a very bad idea.

She rounded her corner, where the Footstep of Heaven Bookstore and Coffee Shop sat, facing the lake. The hostas had grown up along the walk, the smell of roses fragrancing the air. The light above the porch buzzed with suicidal moths.

Under it, in a pool of wan light, sat her neighbor, the young woman who lived in the apartment above the shop.

“Claire?” Ivy said as she opened the gate. “Are you okay?”

Claire sat on the front steps, arms around her legs, staring out at the lake. Ivy would have continued on the path around to the back, but Claire looked so miserable that she stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Claire finally glanced at her. “Sorry—yes. I’m okay. I just got back from Duluth.”

“I noticed your place looked pretty dark the past week or so. Were you on vacation?”

Claire gave a harsh laugh. “No. I wish. My grandfather drove his four-wheeler headfirst into a tree a couple weeks ago. Our neighbor up at the lake found him.” She made a face then and picked up her cell phone. Sighed and put it down. “They transferred him to Duluth for surgery, then moved him back up to the Deep Haven hospital today.”

“Are you expecting a call?”

“My parents, checking up on Grandpop. They’re worried. They sent me an e-mail and asked me to be available tonight. I get better cell service out here and besides, the night is so beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ivy didn’t have to look to nod in agreement.

“I used to live in rural Bosnia and there were nights, sitting outside my parents’ clinic, when the sky looked close enough to touch. It’s the only time I really miss it.”

“You grew up in Bosnia?”

“Only until I was fourteen; then I moved to Deep Haven. My parents are missionary doctors.”

“Wow. When did they go back?”

Claire glanced at her. “Oh, they stayed there. I lived with my grandparents. They raised me through my high school years. I visited Bosnia when I was fifteen for a couple weeks, but . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Ivy didn’t chase the thought. “My parents came home every four years and sometimes for Christmas. We e-mail and Skype, but they’re busy, important people. Doctors—did I mention that?”

“Yes,” Ivy said. “That’s amazing.”

“What, that I have such talented parents, or that they have such a waste of a daughter?”

Huh? Ivy had no words for that. She just frowned at Claire.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t really know me.” Claire forced a kind of smile. “I work at Pierre’s Pizza. And two weeks ago, my boss told me that if I didn’t take the manager position, he’d probably have to cut my hours.” She looked at the phone again. “I’m twenty-five years old and all I have to show for it are my fabulous pizza-making abilities.”

“Some people would love to be able to make a fabulous pizza. Or eat a fabulous pizza.” Her stomach growled at the suggestion.

Claire smiled. “You’re really nice. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just in a bad mood. I hate when they call. They always ask me if I’ve applied for colleges or what my plans are. I feel like an idiot.” She looked up at Ivy. “It’s a terrible thing not to have any plans.”

Ivy set her briefcase on the step, climbed up to sit beside Claire. Thought through her life. Yes, maybe. She hadn’t ever lived without some idea of her next step. Until she arrived in Deep Haven, her destination.

“It’s not like I don’t have things I love to do. Like garden. And yes, I love working at the pizza place. But . . . I guess I always thought I should do something big, like my parents. And try as I might, I can’t hear God telling me what to do. Where to go. So here I sit, waiting, while people get married, build families and careers around me, and I get offered the job as pizza manager.”

“I never considered that God might have an opinion about where I live. What I do. I mean, I believe in God—enough Sunday school and it’s embedded in me. And I remember as a child wanting Jesus to ‘live in my heart.’” Ivy finger-quoted the words. “But as I got older, I kept looking for Him to show up in my life, even a little bit. I guess it’s easier to think that He’s not interested.”

Ivy didn’t look at Claire, instead watching a light on the
water—some distant ship—carving out the horizon. “The spiritual detritus of growing up in the foster system. You never really feel like people are going to stick around. Or that you belong to anyone.”

“You can belong to God, if you want,” Claire said softly. “God may be silent, but He’s never absent.”

Ivy turned to Claire. “I’ve made it this far on my own. I guess I’ll keep it that way.”

“You’re never on your own, Ivy.”

“Spoken like a woman who’s grown up with family.” But she said it kindly, with a smile.

“I suppose,” Claire said. “Speaking of, how did it go with Darek the other night? He comes attached with a passel of family.”

Ivy stared at her. “How did you know?”

“I was there. With the band. I saw you buy him.”

Of course she was. The entire town seemed to be there. “It was so awful. Everyone was so . . . quiet. Why didn’t anyone bid on him?”

“Because . . . well, because he is still married in their minds.”

“He’s not really—”

“No. He’s a widower. Three years now. But he was married to this beautiful, strong woman. She was loved by everyone in town. When she died . . . a little bit of everyone else died too. Especially since she left behind Theo.”

“Theo?”

“Tiger. Sorry.” She checked her phone again. Sighed and put it beside her on the porch. “People probably just can’t forgive Darek for moving on.”

“Has he?”

She glanced at Ivy. “I don’t know; you tell me.”

“He invited me over for a campfire tomorrow night.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Really?”

Claire laughed. “The Christiansens are a force, for sure, but I think they’ll like you.”

There it was again, the feeling of being auditioned.

“How many are there?”

“Six siblings. There’s Darek, of course—he’s the oldest. The protector of the family. He used to fight fires with this hotshot team in Montana. Now I think he’ll probably end up taking over the resort. And then there’s Eden. She’s a journalist, or wants to be, although I think she’s writing obits for a Minneapolis newspaper. And then Grace, who works with me at Pierre’s. She’s an amazing chef and is saving up money to attend Le Cordon Bleu. The troublemaker of the bunch is Casper, who is attending college in Duluth. I think he wants to be an archeologist–slash–treasure hunter–slash–adventurer. I suppose they all do, in a way. And after him is Owen, who plays hockey—”

“For the Minnesota Wild. I heard about him that night at the auction.”

“Right. He was supposed to be the feature attraction.”

“Poor Darek.”

“Exactly. Owen is a bit of a legend in our town. Never went to college—he got drafted straight out of high school. He’s only twenty and playing in the big leagues. The youngest is Amelia. She just graduated from high school this year and is making a name for herself as a photographer. She did a number of the senior pictures, and occasionally her photos make the front page of the paper.”

“I think I saw Amelia and Grace at the hospital a couple weeks ago. They showed up, along with Casper. Lots of drama.”

Claire winced. “I should have been there.”

Ivy frowned. Why—?

“Darek’s wife was my best friend. It tears me up to see Theo without her. I know in my heart that he’s in good hands. Ingrid and John are wonderful grandparents, and they own Evergreen Resort, up on the lake. They go to church; John works as a volunteer EMT. Ingrid helps out at the senior center sometimes. They’re fourth-generation Deep Haven.”

Ivy swallowed, tried a smile. But oh, was she in over her head. These kind of family roots . . .

Claire was checking her phone again. “How is work at the county attorney’s office?”

“Busy. I thought Deep Haven would be more peaceful.”

Claire laughed. “Oh, the summer is just getting started. We’re sleepy in the wintertime, but we grow 200 percent during the summer. That’s when the fun really starts.”

“Super.” She sighed. “How did Darek’s wife die?”

“A terrible car acci—”

Claire’s cell phone buzzed on the step beside her. She picked it up. Grimaced.

“Good night, Claire,” Ivy said as Claire answered it.

She waved to Ivy. “Hi, Mom.”

Ivy moved out of earshot and up to her garage apartment. Turned on the light and dropped her briefcase on the table.

Listened to the silence, the waves on the shore, the wind in the poplar outside her window, and wondered what it might be like to have a tribe like the Christiansen family welcoming her home.

“Grandpop’s fine, Mom. He survived the trip back to Deep Haven just fine.”

Claire watched Ivy walk away in her trim black suit, her auburn hair tied up in a prim ponytail, her heels clicking on the pavement.

Claire didn’t own a business suit. She reached up and pulled off her beret, working her fingers through her hair.

“I just keep thinking about what might have happened if he hadn’t found him,” her mother said. “I always thought he was a nice boy.”

Jensen. She was talking about Jensen. The connection was dismal at best, a fifteen-second echo behind every sentence. Claire could hear her own voice repeat her words on the other end. They were probably calling from their hospital line, had probably spent the last thirty minutes dialing over and over to get out. Or maybe they were both huddled over the phone in some still war-torn or primitive village, even at a public phone booth, the smell of dust and heat in the air. She wished they’d just opted to go to the mission headquarters in the capital city of Sarajevo and call over Skype. Then she could read their faces, assure them that she hadn’t left her grandfather alone, hadn’t been the cause of his accident.

Did they have any idea how hard it was to corral a Vietnam War vet who had a mind of his own?

Or how hard it might be to convince her parents that yes, she had everything under control? An e-mail updating them on his condition should have sufficed.

A mosquito buzzed over her head, landed on her bare leg. She slapped it and flicked it away. Ignoring her mother’s comment, she continued. “They expect a three-to-six-month recovery time, but you know Gramps—he’s already talking about going home. I am going to take some time off—”

Well, mandatory time off. Because how could she become a
restaurant manager and care for her grandpa? She was still thinking it over, but it felt like the right decision. Right?

“Don’t worry about it, honey. He’ll be fine in the Deep Haven Care Center. He knows so many—”