The Wishing Tree (22 page)

She walked down Beach Road, feeling spread out, strung out, and yet, happy. Peaceful. Her mother’s advice had been good for her to hear. She could face whatever happened and not fear being alone. She could hang her wishes for the future on God and let him fulfill them however he saw fit. It was time to stop pinning those wishes on people who could not carry them any better than that tree. Every time she’d expected them to, she’d hurt them—and herself. Elliott and Michael, her mother and Shea, Leah and April had all suffered under the weight of her expectations, her needs. Needs and expectations only
God could fill. When she saw Elliott, she planned to tell him that.

Funny how she’d left Asheville fuming over the apology he owed her—and while he was totally wrong in what he’d done, she had come to understand that it was the weight of her expectations that had started unraveling their marriage long before he acted on his impulses. Elliott could not complete her. Elliott could not meet her needs. Elliott could not make her happy. And neither could Michael. She saw that now, all too clearly. She’d run to Michael, thinking a relationship with him would erase the hurt from Elliott, just like she’d run to Elliott, thinking a romance with him could erase the hurt from her father. But no one on earth could fix her, make her whole.

She needed a stronger foundation than wishes, nice as they may be. She needed more than just a rush of romantic feelings and a whirlwind courtship under starry skies. She needed to find what her mother had found, a strength outside herself to help her go the distance, to love someone other than herself. As wrong as Elliott had been, he wasn’t the only wrong one. Ivy sensed that her first step was to tell him that, to own her part in what had happened between them. Beyond that, she didn’t know what would become of them.

She smiled as the Sunset Inn came into view. The best part was, she didn’t have to know. She would hang her wishes somewhere else from now on—on a sturdy branch that could support all her prayers, hopes, and dreams.

Ivy woke the next morning with a mingled sense of dread and
anticipation. It was a day to be filled with the bridesmaids’ luncheon and the rehearsal dinner, expected traditions with the added element of cameras and crew recording it all. She grimaced at the toast she had yet to write, yet another tradition she’d be held to. The thought of it all made Ivy want to crawl back into bed, but Margot and Shea appeared at her bedroom door looking like eager horses loaded in the gate, ready to charge ahead.

The doorbell rang as they were pouring coffee, and Margot got up to find a wrapped package sitting on the front porch. She brought the package into the house, and they launched into speculating over what could be inside, guessing everything from the practical (a wedding present delivered by a neighbor) to the truly romantic (diamond
earrings from Owen that would perfectly match the dress April had delivered). It was Margot who found the tag marked “To Ivy” stuck to the bottom of the package. Shea’s eyes gave away her surprise as she handed over the gift to Ivy, who was just as surprised as she was.

She fumbled with the wrapping paper, a fussy floral print that smelled faintly of mothballs. She was all thumbs underneath the weight of Margot’s and Shea’s curious stares. The only thing she could think of was Elliott and their heart-to-heart the night before. It would be like him to leave her some symbol of what he hoped was a new future for them, a future she’d promised to consider. He’d said that was all he could ask for and thanked her for the chance, his eyes earnest and intense as he cautiously reached for her hand.

The paper tore away to reveal a white box. When she shook it she heard the unmistakable clink of china rattling inside. She raised an eyebrow at Margot and Shea, who looked as perplexed as she was. She and Elliott had never registered for china, never found much use for the trappings of formality. She opened the box, anxious to see what waited inside.

It was a piece of china, but it wasn’t from Elliott. She pulled the teapot from the box and set it on the kitchen table, thinking of her conversation with Michael that day in Mrs. McCoy’s kitchen, when the memories had floated in the air along with the dust. Then she had hoped for a different ending for the two of them. He had been resistant, guarded, smart. He had known she wasn’t done with Elliott, no matter how much she told herself otherwise. By keeping her in the friend zone, he had been a good friend.

“Hey, I recognize that teapot!” Shea said. Ivy looked up
and met her sister’s gaze, so many things passing between them, the strength of their shared past forging this new, unexpected present. Shea was marrying Owen but Ivy would not be marrying Michael. And for the first time, that was okay. She’d found someone else, the person who, for better or worse, she was forging a life with. There was work ahead for each of the sisters, but now they wouldn’t be doing it alone.

“It’s from Michael. I … told him I wanted it.” She glanced down at the card he’d included—no bigger than a business card with just enough room for a few short lines: “Take this home to remind you where you came from and that you have people who care about where you’re going.” She slipped the card into the teapot and placed the lid back on it. She would find a place for it in her own kitchen.

“Well, if he’s cleaning out that house, I’m going to put in my order for what I want! Owen and I have a whole house to furnish!” Shea said, scampering off to call Michael, Ivy guessed, and lay claim to some free antiques.

Margot called after her, “Don’t forget we’ve got the luncheon at eleven, young lady! And the fitting after that!”

There was no response from Shea. Margot turned back to Ivy and shook her head. “If we’re on time for that luncheon, it’ll be a miracle straight from God.”

Ivy grinned, knowing the rest of this day would pass by in a blur. She wondered if all of the formalities and festivities leading up to a wedding weren’t designed to distract the loved ones from focusing on the changes they were facing—parents losing the children they’d loved and raised, siblings losing the person they’d shared a home with, two people losing their individual lives as they promised to live for
another, forever. Had she even grasped what she was saying as she recited her vows to Elliott? Could anyone really?

“How’d things go with Elliott?” her mom asked, tapping into her thoughts as only a mother could.

“We had a nice long discussion. We’re … going to work on it.”

Margot gestured to the teapot. “And Michael?”

“We’ll always be friends,” she said, thinking of the words he’d scrawled for her on the little card tucked in the teapot. She believed that things would work out for all of them. They had so far.

Her mother moved over to the wishing tree, sitting whole and perfect after the unfortunate accident and repair efforts. Her mother had even managed to find another pot somewhere, and the tree sat once again filled with tags bearing wishes for Owen and Shea. She still needed to add her own.

Ivy watched as her mom rehung some of the tags, filling bare spots. A few weeks ago that action would’ve driven her crazy, been taken as a criticism of Ivy’s work. Now she saw it for what it was: Margot trying to make everything perfect for her girls, doing what she could with what she had just like anyone else.

“I remember putting this tree into storage after you called off your wedding,” Margot said, still fussing with the tags so Ivy didn’t see her face. “I shoved it a little too hard into a corner of that storage room, never dreaming I’d ever pull it out again. I didn’t care if the pot got cracked and the branches broke because I didn’t ever consider that something that was over could have a new life.”

Ivy knew they weren’t just talking about the tree. They
were talking about their marriages and the new life they were each embarking on—a life that required faith and forgiveness. She looked over at the teapot. Michael had extended her forgiveness, something she’d craved more than love or happiness or kindness. She had clamored after him, not knowing it was his forgiveness she sought. When she looked in Elliott’s eyes last night, she’d seen that same hunger and known it was her turn to extend forgiveness.

“I’m supposed to give a toast at the rehearsal dinner tonight,” Ivy said. She picked up the teapot to take it upstairs. “I still haven’t figured out what to say.” She sighed. “I don’t do awkward situations very well, but I don’t suppose I can run away this time.” It was her backhanded way of apologizing to her mother for fleeing so many things.

Satisfied with the tree, Margot turned back to face her. She rested her hand at the base of the tree and gave Ivy a knowing smile. “Just tell everyone about the wishing tree and what it taught you.”

She searched her mother’s face. “You think that would be good? I just don’t want to say something dumb.”

“If you speak from your heart, you’ll never sound dumb.” Margot reached for her, and as Ivy stepped into her mother’s arms, she felt safe and loved and more than a little hopeful that she could rise to the task. She would let her heart speak for her and trust it to have something valuable to say.

Ivy was surprised to see her father at the bridesmaids’ luncheon, sitting off to the side sipping punch and making small
talk with cousin Dory, who was really only there because of the cameras. Shea narrowed her eyes at her. “Opportunist,” she muttered. “She thinks she’s going to get discovered.” Shea had never gotten over her making up an off-color nickname for her when they were twelve.

“No home training,” Margot tsked from behind them, her eyes focused on cousin Dory, who looked up and caught them staring. They all gave a little wave, forcing smiles. Her father saw them too and his eyes lit up. When Dory looked away, the forced smiles gave way to real laughter.

Simon joined them, the relief on his face visible. Ivy wasn’t the only one who’d learned a few lessons recently. Her mother’s reappearance in Simon’s life, combined with the failing business, must’ve softened her father, humbled him. He was, Ivy realized, genuinely glad to be part of this family event instead of merely tolerating it like the father she remembered. Her eyes filled with tears. That summer she’d aimlessly ridden her bike up and down beach roads and avoided her sad mother, she’d never dreamed this could be possible.

One of the bridesmaids called Shea over, and she tugged Margot along with her, leaving Ivy and Simon alone. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said. “In the midst of all this estrogen. I thought you were allergic.”

Simon set down his empty punch glass on a nearby table and gave her shoulders a little squeeze once his hands were free. “I outgrew my allergies, I guess you’d say.” They both laughed. “That Dory …” He gestured at the cousin. “She’s a piece of work.”

Ivy nodded her agreement. “I’ve got a reporter I should introduce her to. They’d be fast friends.” She realized as she
said it that her toast would be filmed. That Vivienne would be staring her down as she spoke. As she shared her heart, she would be exposed. “Excuse me, Dad. I’m going to go try some of that punch.” She picked her way through the tables to reach the punch bowl, poured herself a glass, and sucked it down in one big gulp.

“That stuff’s so sweet, it’ll make you sick if you drink it so fast.” She heard a familiar voice behind her just as she went to refill her glass.

She turned to find Leah, the expert on sweetness, standing there in a canary-yellow dress with matching hat. She looked out of place there, much less at home than in the bakery. Ivy didn’t know if it was the yellow dress or the lack of flour on it.

Leah helped herself to a cup of the punch, clinking it with Ivy’s as soon as she’d finished ladling it. “You did a good thing, coming here,” she said. “Good for you. Good for us.”

“Thanks.” Ivy nodded, looking into her punch cup.

“Don’t expect I’m going to talk you into staying here, though. Now that the big day’s here and your job is done.”

“I’m going to go back to Asheville, Aunt Leah. It’s … time.”

She looked up to find Leah smiling at her. “I told myself I’d support you no matter what you decided, but I have to say I’m glad to hear it. ‘Course I’ll miss you at the bakery. But Elliott needs you a whole lot more than I do.”

Ivy couldn’t resist. “And you have Lester.”

Leah winked. “Indeed I do.” She waved at Shea and Margot. “I see Simon’s making an appearance. Wonders never cease.”

Ivy smirked. “Guess he’s got some work to do, huh?”

“Oh, honey, we’ve all got some work to do.” Leah nudged her. “I’m proud of you for being willing to do the work. Loving someone, and living with them, is some of the hardest work you’ll ever do. But it’s worth it. I wouldn’t take a thing for the time I had with my husband, short as it was. He was a good man. But he wasn’t perfect either.” She raised her eyebrows and bent closer to Ivy as if she were going to tell her a deeply held secret. “None of ‘em are.”

Ivy laughed so hard, she nearly choked on her punch. “I’m going to miss you, Aunt Leah,” she said after she’d recovered enough to speak.

“Well, the good news is, now I expect you’ll be back. It won’t be like before, and that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, it is.” Ivy scanned the room as everyone began taking their seats. Servers began carrying in plates of grilled fruit, crab quiche, field greens with champagne vinaigrette, and a pasta salad with sun-dried tomatoes. Ivy’s stomach rumbled in response. They’d never had time to eat that morning in the rush to get ready.

But Leah didn’t seem to notice everyone taking their seats or the plates of delicious food being carried past. “Your mother told me you’re going to talk about the wishing tree tonight when you do your toast.”

Ivy rolled her eyes at her mother’s ability to relay news at the speed of light, especially news about her. “If I get the courage.”

Leah shook her head. “You will. You didn’t come this far to stop now.” She scratched her head, shifting the hat as she did. “You know that wishing tree tradition is special in our family.”

“Yeah, Aunt Leah, I know.”

“It was—” Ivy turned to stare at her aunt as her voice broke. “It was special to me too.” Leah began fishing around in her purse, searching for something as Ivy waited. After a few seconds she produced a yellowed piece of paper with a frayed ribbon looped through it. “This was from my wedding. I thought you might like to see it.”

Ivy forgot about the people eating, the delicious smells. She took the treasured memento from Leah’s hands and read it, her eyes taking in the faded ink, the obviously masculine handwriting. She looked up at Leah, blinking away tears as she tried to hand it back to her, but Leah shook her head and gently pushed it away as her eyes also brimmed with tears.

“He wished he’d come back to me from Vietnam. But he didn’t. And for a long time I was alone, and lonely. But I had you and your mom and your sister. And later I had a business, a future that—while it wasn’t what I’d wished for—was good. And now, I have this wonderful life.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye, making a track down the length of her cheek through the carefully applied foundation and powder Leah usually eschewed. “Wishes don’t always come true, but joy? Joy is always possible. That’s what you should tell everyone tonight.”

She took a deep breath, composing herself as Ivy did the same. “I think your mama’s fixing to blow a gasket if we don’t sit down.” She tucked her hand into the crook of Ivy’s elbow and steered her toward the table where Shea and Margot and Simon sat waiting for them. Ivy tucked the tag into her own purse, thinking that it would fit perfectly in her
teapot, nestled beside Michael’s note, another little reminder of where she was from, and where she wanted to go.

She was going to be brave, but she wasn’t going to go first. She listened patiently as friends and family stood at the rehearsal dinner that evening to pay homage to Shea and Owen, sharing funny stories and happy memories, giving wise advice and making dumb jokes. She reached into her purse and rubbed her thumb along the tag Leah had given her, bolstering her courage. When it was silent again, she stood up before she could chicken out, her eyes scanning the gathering of familiar faces and coming to rest on her sister’s. Shea gave her a smile and a wink. She did her best to ignore her wildly pounding heart.