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Their Small-Town Love
Arlene James
Her school reunion was just an excuse.New Christian Ivy Villard really returned to Eden, Oklahoma, to reconcile with her father, her sister…and Ryan Jeffords, the high school boy she left behind. Ivy chased adventure in the big city, but she's learned her lesson.Of all her mistakes, there's nothing she regrets more than throwing Ryan's love away. Now they have a second chance, if they're brave enough to take it.




“What about you? You interested in having children someday?”
Ivy’s eyes filled with pain. “I don’t think I’m meant for that,” she mumbled.
“Well, that makes two of us,” he said, needing instinctively to erase that pain.
“Really? You don’t want a family of your own?”
“The way I look at it,” Ryan explained carefully, “I already have one. My students mean a lot to me.” He smiled. “You might even say my devotion to my work has gotten a bit out of hand. I spend most of my time occupied with coaching, administrating and just spending time with the students. Some of them desperately need an adult who will listen.”
Ivy tilted her head. “Is that enough for you? Listening to someone else’s kids? I used to think work was enough, too.”
“Not anymore?”
She pondered that before shaking her head. “No,” she said softly. “Not anymore. Family is everything.”

ARLENE JAMES
says, “Camp meetings, mission work and church attendance permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He has blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”
The author of more than sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside of Fort Worth, Texas, with her beloved husband. Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade! She loves to hear from readers, and can be reached at 1301 E. Debbie Lane, Suite 102, Box 117, Mansfield, Texas 76063, or via her Web site at www.arlenejames.com.

Their Small-Town Love
Arlene James


And after you have suffered for a little, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you. To Him be dominion forever and ever. Amen.
—1 Peter 5:10–11

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Questions for Discussion

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 the one hand, Ivy found that comforting; on the other hand, 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 blonde 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 blonde asked, swinging a chunky toddler onto her trim hip. Dressed in olive-green corduroy overalls and a bright yellow T-shirt, the boy twinkled blue eyes at Ivy, expecting instant acceptance.
Ivy smiled, despite the pang in her chest, and addressed the blonde. “I have a reservation.”
The 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 blonde went on.
That, Ivy thought, is an understatement.
The annual high school reunion, always 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 thirty-year-old Ivy 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 more than 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 to keep doing 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 Ivy wept and confessed to God her many failings.
In the time since, Ivy’s world had literally turned on its head. She learned that God’s forgiveness removed the eternal ramifications of her sin and that she owed it to herself and others to try to make amends to anyone she’d ever harmed. But how did she approach someone who never wanted to see her again, let alone ask for his forgiveness? She already knew that turning her life over to God did not mean that everything would suddenly become perfect. 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 hotel clerk. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a permanent address at the moment.”
The woman 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 prepare her younger sister for 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 to see him, he might well cut Rose and her family from his life as he had Ivy. It seemed best to just 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 pulled out her best manners. “Thank you. That’s very kind. Do you mind if I ask your name?”
“Oh.” The blonde 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 Cara’s 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. Bag clutched under her arm, she gave him a wistful little wave 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 big, puffy 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 pretty, babydoll 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 would soon 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 state, though explaining the break-up of the FireBrand Phillips and Ivy radio show was proving difficult. Still, being half of what had once been one of the most popular programs on commercial “rock/talk” 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 “FireBrand” had predicted.
As she donned her 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 pleasure and welcome 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, some 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 hadn’t regretted so far.
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 even in 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, backslaps and smiles, he felt a sense of pride in this place and all who had passed through it over the years, and that definitely included his older brother, whom Ryan spied in the distance.
At six foot four and a half, Holt tended to stand out in a crowd. It came as no surprise to see Holt’s pretty, petite wife, Cara, beaming at her husband’s side. Ryan wondered if she’d stopped smiling even once in the three weeks since their wedding. As he moved toward them, he saw that his sister, Charlotte, and brother-in-law, Ty, also stood nearby, 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 great speed and ease. Only a few weeks ago, he’d helped Cara and Holt settle a tricky custody battle with her late husband’s parents with a single phone call and, in Ty’s stated opinion, a 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 had come to take that much-vaunted hike down the aisle, but Ryan doubted 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. After what love had cost his mother—her life—he was okay without it. 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 boutonnieres, so he routinely chose the green silk for these events.
“You’re looking better than usual yourself,” he said to Holt, then bent slightly to wink 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 in clear possession of the pretty blonde. 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, Charlotte 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 dinner, Ryan turned away from his siblings—and saw Ivy Villard.
He knew her at once, although 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, a perfect frame for her slender oval face and big, deeply set, cinnamon-brown eyes. Her 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 her Native American ancestry, which he knew came from her maternal grandmother, and called attention to the shimmering, pale-pink lipstick that adorned her 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 with herself all these years. He wasn’t the only one to notice her.
“Isn’t that Ivy?” Charlotte asked, coming to stand beside him.
“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 ’96.”
“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. Ryan 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 Ivy was a baby rather than just take off and leave her.
Ryan vehemently opposed that notion himself, since his own mother had taken her life after his father had died in an oil field accident when he was twenty. 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 decided to rectify the situation.
“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. He could visit with his siblings 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 was, of course, less than accurate, but at thirty she was old enough to appreciate hearing it. She was not sure how she recognized this particular former schoolmate, however, for he had changed immensely. She recalled a tall, thin young man with large 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. Ivy 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’m named after 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 of the familiar-yet-unfamiliar man beside her.
In high school, she had found Ryan to be a very nice guy, but rather stolid and even a little boring. She no longer trusted the judgment of the foolish young woman she had been, however. That former version of herself had chosen the flash and dash of Brand Phillips—he wasn’t called “FireBrand” for nothing—over any chance of marriage and family.
Looking back, she marveled at how easily she had jettisoned the idea of a normal, responsible life. She could not even 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 only promised her a grand adventure and she had to admit that he had delivered, but at what a high, painful cost to her!
For one horrible moment, Ivy suddenly hovered on the verge of tears. The pain never seemed to leave her for long or diminish in intensity. Ryan turned to her then and 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, solid hand covering hers lightly.
“You okay?” His hazel eyes peering intently into her darker ones. Blinking, Ivy said nothing 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, wondering what troubled this beautiful woman whom he remembered only as a teen.
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. Although 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 big as 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, 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.”

Chapter Two
“My sister-in-law, Cara,” Ryan said, standing in front of his chair. He’d stayed longer at Ivy’s table than he’d intended, so long that his family had finally wandered over in search of him, necessitating a spate of introductions.
Ivy clapped her long slender hands to her cheeks, gaping at Cara. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were part of the Jefford family.”
Ryan glanced from one to the other, surprised that they had evidently already met.
Cara laughed. “No reason why you should have known. I understand you haven’t been around for a while, and the wedding was just three weeks ago. I should have made my identity clear when we met at the motel.”
“I just never dreamed that Holt had married,” Ivy said, exclaiming, “And you, too, Charlotte! It’s been a season of weddings for the Jeffords.”
Charlotte laughed. “So it has.”
Ryan said, “I was telling Ivy about the house you and Ty are building.”
“Yes, the old Moffat place, just east of here,” Charlotte said, smiling that utterly content smile of hers.
“What a beautiful spot,” Ivy murmured. “I’ve always loved that place.”
“Listen, Cara’s been on her feet all day,” Holt interrupted, his arm curling around Cara’s shoulders as he addressed his brother. “We’re going to find our seats now.”
Ryan nodded saying, “You go on. I’ll be along shortly.”
“I could use a chair myself,” Ty announced, urging Charlotte to follow Holt.
“Nice to see you again, Ivy,” Charlotte said, falling in line.
“You, too. And congratulations! Both of you. I mean, all of you!”
The family moved away with smiles and little waves. Ryan intended to say a quick goodbye and take his leave as well, but then Rose began to push up from the table, muttering that she should visit the ladies’ room before dinner. Daniel stood to help her to her feet, and then trailed along behind her protectively, leaving Ryan alone with Ivy. Not only did it seem rude to walk away at that point, he found that he did not want to. Ivy had always intrigued him, and that appeared not to have changed. He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that he had about a quarter-hour before he must report to the head table, so he sat down again.
“You don’t have to keep me company,” Ivy said with a gentle smile.
“Nonsense,” he told her. “We have lots to catch up on. So what have you been doing with yourself? Why haven’t I seen you in all these years?”
Ivy’s smile wilted around the edges and shadows darkened her warm brown eyes. “I’ve been on the move pretty much the whole time. That’s how it is in my business. You go from one radio market to another, hoping to catch on in enough places to build a national following so you can squeeze a few more dollars out of the next contract.”
To Ryan, that seemed a singularly unappealing way to live. He couldn’t imagine pulling up roots every few months. “Where are you working now?”
“If all goes as planned, Oklahoma City.”
“Ah, so that’s what finally brings you our way.”
She shrugged delicately. “It just all sort of worked out.”
“Must be difficult to make friends and build relationships, moving around so much,” he surmised. “I assume you’re not married since I notice that you’re unescorted and not wearing a ring.” He reached for her left hand and turned it over atop the table as if to prove his point.
“I’m not married,” she confirmed before looking pointedly at his own hand. “Neither, apparently, are you.”
He laughed. “Never married. Never even been close.”
“And here you’ve stayed all this time?”
“And here I’ve stayed all this time. Maybe that’s the problem. There aren’t many single women here in Eden.”
“Oh, but there are many ways to meet people, surely. I mean, stranger things have happened.”
“You’re telling me! Just look at Holt and Charlotte.”
“So why not you?” Ivy asked, her eyes locking with his.
“To tell you the truth, I think I’m just too busy. I don’t have time to date, let alone fall in love and get married.” He spread his hands, and smiled. “So what’s your excuse?”
Ivy looked down, saying, “I drove a nail in that coffin a long time ago.”
The forced lightness of her tone hinted at sadness, and Ryan suddenly felt ill at ease. Shifting in his seat, he strove to bring back a casual, chatty air. “Career girl, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“I understand devotion to one’s career, believe me,” he said, sounding a little too hearty even to his own ears yet somehow unable to stop himself. “Education is my calling, and let me tell you, it’s more than a full-time job. Much as I love it, though, it gets in the way of normal life. Take your dad, for instance,” he blundered on. “I’m ashamed to say I haven’t seen him or even thought of him in a long time. Until I saw you here tonight, I didn’t realize how long it’s been.”
“Really?” she asked, looking slightly stricken. “You haven’t seen him at all?”
Ryan wanted to bite his tongue. Now she sounded worried.
“No, I’m sorry, not in…well, months, at least.”
“Not even at church?”
“Not even at church,” he confirmed.
“I’m assuming you still attend First Church,” she said anxiously.
“Yes, I do, but—” He gulped. Where was a hole when he needed one? And why didn’t she already know this? “Olie doesn’t.”
“He doesn’t?”
“According to Holt, he goes with Rose and Daniel and their boys to our new sister church, Magnolia Christian.”
Ivy seemed to ponder that. Gazing off into the distance, she murmured, “I see. Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” She glanced back at Ryan, straightened, put on a smile again and said brightly, “I’m sure his grandsons decided that for him. Rose says he dotes on her two boys.”
Disturbed, Ryan studied that smile and found that it did not quite reach her eyes. The Ivy that he glimpsed there in those cinnamon brown depths seemed once more sad, a little lost, uncertain. He had the urge to take her hand again, but didn’t.
“I guess you’ll all be attending Easter services at the Magnolia church together,” he ventured cautiously.
Her chin lifted as if she would nod, but then she looked away again. After a moment, she haltingly told him, “I can’t quite see myself attending Easter services anywhere but at First Church.”
Ryan nodded, pleased and troubled at the same time. “That’s good to hear. We’d love to have your family join us.”
He caught the sharp edge of agony in her eyes and wondered what he’d said before her gaze skittered around the room. Suddenly, he understood that if Ivy attended First Church tomorrow, she would do so alone. Before he even knew what he intended, he heard himself saying, “N-naturally, Rose’s family will want to be at their home church, so maybe you’d like to go with us. I mean, you’re at the motel already, and—”
She stopped his flow of ill-considered words by grasping his sleeve lightly with her fingertips. “That’s very sweet of you, Ryan, but not necessary.”
The touch of her fingers cemented his resolve to keep her from attending Easter services alone.
“No, really. Since the weather’s nice, we’ll probably all just walk over from the motel together. Won’t have to fight for a parking space that way. Why don’t you come with me, er, with us?”
“Does First Church still do a sunrise Easter service in the park?” she asked.
Ryan nodded. “Granddad can’t quite manage it anymore. Too much walking and standing.”
“But they still do it?”
“Absolutely.”
She sat back with a look of anticipation on her face. “Well, then, that’s where I’ll be.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind a little company,” he suggested, surprising himself.
Ivy sat forward again, looking as surprised as he felt. After a moment, her warm, brown eyes began to glow. “Really?”
“It’s a beautiful service, and I’d like to go. No reason we can’t walk over together.”
“That sounds lovely, Ryan.”
Ryan was relieved to see that she meant it. The shadows he glimpsed behind her smile seemed to have fled.
He spied the Halseys returning then, Daniel following as Rose maneuvered her belly through the tables and chairs. He saw, too, that most people had taken their seats, and he knew the moment of his departure had come. Oddly reluctant to go, Ryan nevertheless got to his feet squeezing Ivy’s hand once more as he said, “Shall I knock on your door, say half past six?”
“That sounds about right. It’s number four, by the way.”
“Number four. See you in the morning, then.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Ivy smiled warmly. He flipped a wave at the Halseys and turned toward the dais, smoothing his tie with one hand.
What had he just done? Ryan wondered as he made his way to the front of the room. Escorting a single woman to a sunrise church service was one thing, but dealing with his family’s questions about it would be something else. Then again, they didn’t really have to know, did they? It would mean attending regular services later with the family, but two church services in one morning never did a fellow harm. That way, everyone would be happy. Ivy wouldn’t have to go alone, he’d get to take part again in a service he truly enjoyed, the family would be together as usual, and that would be that. Satisfied with his plans, he turned his attention to enjoying the festivities.
The committee chairwoman beckoned to him, her smile looking a tad strained, and he put Ivy Villard out of his mind as best he could, focusing instead on his duties. That, after all, was what Ryan Jefford did best. Some might even have said that it defined him as a person, and he wouldn’t have argued with them. It would not even have occurred to him to do so.

Ivy remained at her sister’s side throughout the banquet. They’d had little time to talk as yet, but Ivy did not doubt that Rose was glad to see her, and for now that was enough. Ivy laughed at Ryan’s witty welcome and sat patiently through the less entertaining speeches that followed, accompanied by a plate of unremarkable food served by girls in short-skirted, green-and-yellow uniforms emblazoned with the white Eden lightning bolt. Ivy remembered well doing the same thing, serving tables for tips on reunion night to raise funds for the cheer squad, and she had come prepared with a generous donation.
All in all her plan had thus far been even more successful than Ivy had hoped. Meeting Rose in a public place had been both more difficult and easier than Ivy had imagined. Rose had been shocked to see her, yes, but no more so than Ivy had been upon realizing that her sister was already the mother of two and expecting another child.
Rose’s welcome had been all that Ivy could have asked for, warm, exuberant, even tearful, but the time and place of their reunion had relegated all but the simplest of exchanges to the future. Ivy sensed that Daniel might not be best pleased with her at the moment, but Ivy couldn’t blame him. Had she realized Rose’s physical condition beforehand, she would not have risked stressing her sister emotionally. That, too, however, was a subject for the future.
While her attention and intent centered on Rose, many of Ivy’s old classmates had wandered by for a greeting and quick conversation. She’d been hugged and patted and smiled on. No one had surprised her as much as Ryan, though, and she silently thanked him for providing her with an easy out when Rose tentatively suggested that she join the family for Easter services the next day.
Rose interrupted her musings with the whispered invitation, “Daniel and I wonder if you’d like to join us for Easter tomorrow?”
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry,” Ivy replied softly, “but I’ve already promised to go to the services at First Church with Ryan Jefford. Besides, I don’t think Dad would be very pleased.”
Rather than press Ivy to reconsider, Rose’s tawny brown eyes were suddenly alight with speculation. She leaned close to whisper, “With Ryan? Really? He’s considered quite the catch around here, you know.”
“We’re just old friends, Rose,” Ivy pointed out softly. “Mere acquaintances, really, but he invited me, and I said I would go.”
Fortunately, before more could be said on the subject, the master of ceremonies, a retired former superintendent of Eden schools, announced that the highlight of the evening would commence. Each of the alumni present would stand and be recognized, in alphabetical order, while moderators read a list of his or her accomplishments. In this way, it was explained, they could all “catch up” with each other.
Ivy cringed at the idea and even considered pleading exhaustion or headache in order to slip out before her turn came. In the end, however, she did neither, reminding herself that turning over a new leaf meant putting away cowardly and dishonest habits once and for all. Besides, how much could anyone in Eden, other than her family, really know about her life? When the moderator at last called her name, Ivy stood and inwardly gulped as a paragraph taken directly from her personal promotional Web site was read.
“Ivy Villard has enjoyed a successful career in the highly competitive field of commercial radio. As half of the popular FireBrand Phillips and Ivy duo, she has logged thousands of on-air hours as an announcer, commentator and DJ, bringing her own special brand of humor, wit and organization to the new rock/talk format. As producer of the show, she has been instrumental in achieving the ratings that propelled it to the top of the heap. With the changing tastes of today’s marketplace, however, the time has come to break up the act and branch out in different directions. Look for Ivy, a graduate of Southeastern Oklahoma State University with a degree in communications, at the helm of her own show in a market near you very soon.”
The moderator went on to list awards that the show had won. Fan Favorite, Industry Pick, Top Market, Best New Format…Ivy closed her ears and barely heard the applause that followed. She couldn’t help thinking that if the whole truth about Ivy Villard had been read, her reception would have been far less cordial. Clutching her sister’s hand, Ivy dropped back into her chair and waited for the evening to be over.

Applauding for the umpteenth time, Ryan watched Ivy sit back down, one hand smoothing the seat of her chic black dress. He’d sensed her unease even before her name was called; then he’d caught the gossip being bandied about the head table.
“Have you ever listened to that show?” one of the women muttered.
“They say it’s raunchy,” another whispered, shaking her head.
“Disgraceful, I’ve heard,” put in another.
Ryan squelched a spurt of disappointment. He disdained gossip of any kind, and he would not make judgments based on it, but in this case, if the rumors should be true, he would be very sad to hear it. Ivy could be considered little more than an acquaintance, really, even if he would be escorting her to sunrise service tomorrow, but he still hated to think that she might be involved in a show with a reputation for raunch.
He still wondered why he had offered to accompany her. If the service meant as much to her as it had seemed to earlier, he had nothing to worry about on her behalf. Except…Something was definitely going on behind those brown eyes. A blind man could have seen it. That troubled him as did his unexpected protective impulses where she seemed to be concerned.
Another name was read, and another alumni rose. Ryan shifted his attention to Garth White, class of 1970, owner of the largest independent insurance agency in Lawton. Garth hammed it up for the crowd, passing out business cards to those around him while the moderator cataloged his accomplishments, including record-breaking revenues, four sons and a number of grandsons. Ryan tried to pay attention, but his gaze kept straying back to Ivy. She looked poised and lovely, but he still could sense sorrow in her, a deep well of pain. He found himself wanting to walk over to her table again.
As he watched her, Ryan noticed a tall, painfully thin blonde in a short-sleeved, lilac print dress winding her way through the tables in a half crouch. When she reached Ivy’s side, the two embraced warmly. Ivy pulled the blonde down onto the chair that Ryan had occupied earlier.
Ryan couldn’t help wondering who the woman might be and what connection she had to Ivy. That the two were fond of each other was obvious. They clasped hands, whispering back and forth and exchanged grins. Ivy beamed, and for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her that evening, she seemed relaxed and happy. He watched as she whispered apparent introductions to her sister and brother-in-law while Cotton Carlson, the retired superintendent of schools, announced from the dais that door prizes would now be awarded.
The blonde stayed to chat with Ivy throughout the dispensing of such donated items as flower arrangements, a free alignment from Froggy’s Gas &Tire, bottle openers that played a tune every time a top popped and a fifty-dollar gift certificate from Booker’s Grocery Emporium. When the program finally ended, Ryan rose to shake a few more hands and greet a few more familiar faces, while Ivy and her companions melted into the crush.
The crowd had begun to thin by the time Ryan came across his old buddy Matthew Barston. An algebra and Spanish teacher, Matt had worked for years at the small school district in Hilltown, a neighboring community some dozen or so miles to the east.
“Matt! I didn’t know you were here. Why wasn’t your name called tonight?”
Matthew flushed as red as his copper hair and shoved the hand that Ryan had just gripped into the pocket of his tweedy brown jacket. He cleared his throat before saying, “I asked them not to read my name. Call me odd, but I prefer not to stand up and have it announced that I’m out of a job.”
Startled, Ryan seized his friend by the arm, demanding, “How could this happen? When did it happen?”
“As to when,” Matt said, snorting with disgust, “Monday morning, less than forty-eight hours after I got married.”
“Married!” Ryan exclaimed. There seemed to be a wedding epidemic going around.
“Why I’m out of a job is the real issue, though, isn’t it?” Matt went on, grumbling, “Sanctimonious snobs.”
Just then the skinny blonde Ryan had noticed at Ivy’s table came into view, halting at Matt’s side. Matt immediately straightened and slid an arm around her waist, his smile wiping all traces of anger from his face.
“Honey, this is my buddy Ryan Jefford, I’ve told you about him. Ryan, my wife, Devony.”
Devony Barston’s beautiful smile brightened her otherwise rather plain face, and her enormous green eyes regarded Ryan with warmth. “It’s so nice to meet you. Matt has told me what a good friend you are.”
Surprised, since he and Matt didn’t talk all that much anymore or see each other outside of work but a few times a year, Ryan just nodded and smiled.
Matt gave Devony a squeeze and said, “Honey, could you give us another minute? Won’t take long, I promise.”
“Sure.” Devony smiled again, nodded at Ryan and moved away.
Ryan realized that he should have told Devony congratulations on their marriage, but it was too late for that.
“Sorry,” he muttered to Matt. “I seem to be a step behind. Congratulations on your marriage. Please give my best wishes to your wife.”
“Thanks. I hope you’ll still feel that way after I ask you a favor.”
“Well, sure, Matt,” Ryan answered readily, “anything I can do.”
“I’m getting ready to look for another job. Will you write me a recommendation?”
Ryan opened his mouth, then shut it again before carefully saying, “My impulse is to give you a flat yes, but I make it a policy to pray over every decision.” That happened to be absolutely true, as far as it went, but said nothing to the fact that Ryan sensed more to Matt’s story than his friend had revealed.
Matt ducked his head. “Sure. I understand.”
“Give me a call in a few days,” Ryan went on with a smile. He didn’t have the faintest idea what had happened, whether Matt had been let go or why Matt should ask him for a recommendation; he only knew that he needed more information before he committed himself. On the one hand, Ryan could not imagine that Matt had done anything to get himself fired. On the other hand, this was not the time of year when normal budgetary constraints would dictate layoffs. A clash of personalities perhaps? He prayed that it wasn’t something worse. Educators, after all, held positions open to public censure. Christian educators, especially, should aim to be above reproach.
Ryan watched with a heavy heart as Matt walked away. What a rotten break, Ryan thought, just married and out of a job. He bowed his head to say a quick prayer for his friend. A moment later, he found himself scanning the room for Ivy. How, he wondered, did she know the new Mrs. Matthew Barston? And why had Ivy’s eyes been shadowed with pain?

Chapter Three
Night still blanketed the town when Ryan knocked on the door of Ivy’s room early the next morning. He hunched his shoulders beneath the nubbly, caramel-tan fabric of his sport coat. The jacket, worn with a pale yellow shirt, dark brown slacks and a patterned tie in rich tones of gold, provided little comfort from the early morning chill, but he trusted that the temperature would soon warm.
The door opened to reveal Ivy in a pale pink knit sheath with fitted, three-quarter-length sleeves and a straight neckline. Her dark, lustrous hair hung straight down her back.
“Hello,” she said, smiling broadly. The warmth of her welcome went a long way toward wiping out Ryan’s nebulous regret at having offered to escort her this morning. He was too busy to get involved with anyone, no matter how much he liked Ivy.
“You’re looking very pretty,” he told her truthfully, “especially for such an early hour.”
“Why, thank you. You’re turned out quite nicely yourself.”
He tugged on the cuffs and lapels of his jacket, preening comically and enjoying her laughter. She interrupted his performance by asking, “Do I need a coat?”
“Something light, I’d think. It’s not cold but still a little cool out.”
Ivy went to the suitcase atop the nondescript dresser, picked up a silky, oversized shawl in a pastel paisley print and tossed it about her shoulders. “Will this do?”
“Perfect,” Ryan decreed. “You look like a spring morning.”
Laughing again, Ivy retrieved the key and stepped down out of the comfortable room, pulling the door closed behind her. She locked the door and handed the key to Ryan, saying, “I don’t have any pockets and would prefer to leave my purse here. Would you mind holding this for me?”
“No problem.” Palming the key and the hard plastic tag attached to it, he slid his hand into his coat pocket, then ushered her along the row of rooms, each one separated from the next by a parking bay open on one end. Her perfume wafted on the still, cool air, a combination of spicy cinnamon and sweet camellia well matched to the woman who wore it.
The barest glimmer of light showed in the east as they strolled along, side by side. Ahead, Ryan could make out cars jockeying for parking space and people moving about; yet, despite that, a certain expectant stillness lay over the place.
“Hard to believe we were socked in with a nasty ice storm just a month and a half ago,” he ventured after several moments.
“Yeah, we got hit up in Tulsa, too,” she said, “but then that area almost always gets it. You guys down here not so much.”
“Usually once a year,” he noted, “and this year it got us really good.”
“Holt and Cara must have been in a panic, with the wedding coming up and all,” Ivy commented idly.
Ryan chuckled. “Nope. Nobody was thinking wedding then. Well, Holt and Cara weren’t. The rest of us could read the writing on the wall. I have to hand it to them, though, once the idea hit, they didn’t waste any time. Almost before we knew it, we were standing up there in front of the altar watching them do the deed.”
Ivy shook her head. “Maybe that’s how it has to be sometimes,” she mused, “fast and furious. What’s that old saying? ‘Don’t let the grass grow under your feet’?”
“No danger of that,” Ryan quipped. “We’re already expecting to hear any day that they are expecting.”
A tiny gasp escaped Ivy. “So soon?”
“Why not?” Ryan asked. “Ace, Cara’s little boy, is just a year old, but chances are he’d be at least two before Cara could give him a brother or sister, and as Holt points out, they would like them to be close in age—similar to the two years between Holt and me.”
“What about Ace’s father?” Ivy asked carefully.
“He died not long after Ace was born.”
She hunched her shoulders, drawing her wrap tighter. “How sad.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Ryan didn’t say that from the sound of things, the marriage hadn’t been a very good one or that Ace’s natural father had looked on him as more of a means to extract cash from his own parents than as a treasured son.
They walked on in silence for a few moments. Dawn hovered over the horizon now, ready to illuminate the city with the softest tendrils of day and outline the still-leafless skeletons of the stately pecan and hickory trees. It felt as if the world waited for the dawning of the Easter sun.
“I’d forgotten that sound,” Ivy said suddenly.
“What’s that?”
“The oil pumps.”
“Yeah,” Ryan lifted his head to catch the rhythmic ka-shunk, ka-shunk. “I never notice it. Unless it’s not there. And one day it won’t be. They’re gradually replacing these old pumps with a quiet electric system.”
“That’s too bad,” she said wistfully. “I find it a comforting sound.”
“Yeah, I guess I do, too. It nearly drove Ty crazy at first,” Ryan divulged with a chuckle. “Turns out that a penthouse is a very quiet atmosphere.”
“How did Charlotte and Tyler Aldrich ever get together?” Ivy asked, looking up at Ryan.
Suddenly struck by the elegant perfection of her features—delicate chin and brows, high smooth forehead, large, deeply set eyes of warm reddish brown, glossy pink lips bracketed by the most beguiling dimples, and a straight, slender nose—he couldn’t respond for a moment. Then a memory intruded, one he hadn’t even known he’d locked away, and before he could think better of it, he heard himself blurting it out.
“Wait a minute. Didn’t you used to have a little bump on the bridge of your nose?”
Ivy lifted a hand to that spot on her face, patches of dusky red blossoming on the apples of her cheeks. “You aren’t supposed to know that!”
“You did,” Ryan teased. “You had a cute little bump right at the top of the bridge of your nose.”
Dropping her hand, she grimaced. “Cute stops being cute at about twenty-four, thank you very much.”
“So you had it removed.”
“Yes, if you must know, I had it removed.”
Grinning, Ryan couldn’t resist the urge to tease her a little more. “You were the envy of every girl in town back in high school, and all along I’d bet you were obsessing about that tiny bump.”
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “Well, maybe a little bit, but it was my boyfriend who insisted I do it.” Abruptly, she snapped her mouth closed, as if regretting that last part. Ryan felt a pang on her behalf.
“What a jerk,” he declared.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered darkly.
Again, a question fell out of his mouth without routing itself through his brain first. “How’d you wind up with a jerk like that?”
She sent an elbow to his ribs, just hard enough to make him laugh. “Basically, the same way I wound up here with you,” she retorted. “Now, enough about me. We were talking about Charlotte and Tyler Aldrich.”
“Right. Charlotte and Ty and how they got together.” Ryan cleared his throat of his laughter. “Simple really. Ty got stranded here overnight back in the fall. One night became a week. Later, his visits pretty much became dates. The next thing we knew, they couldn’t live without each other. You know how it goes. Now they’re building a big new house here and hoping that our grandfather, Hap, will move in with them once it’s finished.”
“Is that likely?”
Ryan sucked in a deep breath, mentally shifting gears. “I’m not sure he’ll have any other choice in the end. He’s almost eighty-one, and his arthritis isn’t going to get any better. If not for Cara, he couldn’t manage the motel now.”
“And if she has a new baby, she won’t be able to help out,” Ivy concluded.
“Exactly. I can’t see Holt letting her continue much longer in any event,” Ryan mused aloud. “Quite the protector, our Holt. Can’t say I blame him, though. It’s physically demanding work, and as you know, Cara’s a little thing.”
“What will happen to the motel if your grandfather gives it up?” Ivy asked.
“Ty and Charlotte have a young Hispanic couple they’d like to bring in to take over, with an eye maybe to buying the place. Makes sense when you think about it. None of us is going to take on the place. But, as I said, it’s Hap’s decision.”
“Will he be unreasonable?”
“No, I don’t think so. That’s not Granddad. In the end, I think he’ll give it up for the great-grandbabies.”
“Babies? Plural?”
Ryan shrugged. “Holt and Cara make no secret of their intentions, and Charlotte and Ty will start a family eventually, I’m sure. Probably sooner rather than later. And there’s Ace, already.”
“Hap accepts him as part of the family?”
“Of course. We all do.”
Ivy turned a look up at him that seemed part hope and part doubt. “Just like that?”
Ryan chuckled. “You obviously haven’t met my nephew yet. He’s quite the little charmer.”
“Actually,” Ivy said, ducking her head, “I think I have. He seems to have that confidence peculiar to children who are greatly loved.”
“You bet. That’s what babies are for, isn’t it? Loving?”
She didn’t answer that. After a moment, Ryan felt compelled to ask, “What about you? You interested in having children some day?”
Ivy tucked her chin to her chest. “I don’t think I’m meant for that.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” he said, needing, for some reason, to validate her choice.
Her head popped up. “Really? You don’t want a family of your own?” She sounded affronted, yet she’d just basically said the same thing, hadn’t she?
“The way I look at it,” Ryan explained carefully, “I already have a family, a suddenly growing family, and of course I have my students.”
“They must mean a lot to you.”
He smiled. “Can’t seem to help it. You might even say the thing’s gotten a bit out of hand. Some of them really need an adult to just listen.”
Ivy tilted her head, the sleek curtain of her long dark hair sweeping across her shoulder blades. “Is that enough for you? Listening to other people’s kids?”
Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Well…my job and my family keep me very busy, and…” He rubbed a hand over his face before abruptly deciding to give in to the impulse to say what he had never said to anyone else. “You probably remember what happened when my dad died.”
“Your mom’s suicide,” Ivy whispered, nodding.
“Marriage seems like a really big risk to me,” he admitted.
“I used to think so, too.”
“Not anymore?”
She pondered that before shrugging. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Love is risky, no doubt about it, but family…” She looked up at him with wide, pain-filled eyes. “Family is worth very nearly everything.”
She had a point there, Ryan admitted silently. He would risk much for his family, not just Hap and Holt and Charlotte, but for his brother-in-law and sister-in-law and nephew, too. What would he risk for a wife and child of his own? He was almost afraid to find out.
“Quite a crowd this year,” Ryan remarked softly, looking around at the people already spread over the gently rolling landscape.
Ivy nodded in agreement. There were more people present than she remembered from years past, but it had been so long that she had no idea if this had become the norm.
The simple service of yesteryear had obviously given way to a more sophisticated approach. She noticed an outdoor sound system tucked into inconspicuous places, and flickering patio torches had been placed at intervals to mark the space from which the service would be conducted. Atop the hill behind that space, in increasingly stark silhouette, stood three crosses temporarily erected for the service. Around the topmost section of the center cross hung a crown fashioned of thorny vines.
In the center of the marked-off space stood a large rock, across which a length of purple fabric and several long-stemmed lilies had been arranged in artful abandon. This apparently served as a makeshift altar as two men knelt next to it in fervent prayer. One of them she recognized as Grover Waller, the middle-aged pastor of First Church, a little older and rounder and with thinner hair, but the same pastor nonetheless. The other was a younger man Ivy did not know. At her whispered query, Ryan informed her that his name was Davis Latimer, the new minister of the church on Magnolia. He, along with his congregation, had been invited to participate in this earliest Easter morning service.
Ivy felt a chill. Glancing around, she wondered if her father might be in attendance. She looked down, telling herself that if he saw her he would surely avoid her. Perhaps it would be best if he did see her. It would spare Rose the awkwardness of having to inform him of her visit.
A reverent hush enveloped the ever-growing crowd, some of whom stood or crouched. Others had possessed the foresight to bring along lawn chairs, while still others simply sat or knelt on the ground.
“I should have thought to bring something to sit on,” Ryan told her apologetically, leaning close.
Ivy gripped the sides of her wrap and held them out. “This will do.”
“Won’t you be chilled without it?”
“We’ll find a sheltered spot that blocks the breeze.”
“Let’s try over here,” he suggested, taking her hand to lead her down the gentle slope a little way to a cluster of boxy shrubs. Ivy spread the paisley shawl on the ground in front of the shrubs and sat, folding her legs back to one side. Ryan followed suit, scooting close to offer her the warmth of his large, muscular body, one palm braced flat on the ground behind her. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the gradual lightening of the sky, before the pastors stood, Bibles in hand, and took up positions in front of the makeshift altar. Utter stillness descended, then Grover opened his Bible and in a clear but gentle voice began to read the prayer of Jesus from the seventeenth chapter of John. The other man picked up with the eighteenth and nineteenth chapters, telling about the betrayal and arrest of Christ, which included the Apostle John’s moving account of the crucifixion, before Grover began the twentieth.
“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb….”
The pastor went on as the sun rose over the hilltop behind him, its golden rays seeming to reach out to all the world. He read how the risen Savior showed Himself to His astonished, jubilant followers and became the Light that pierces the darkness. Finally, Grover closed his Bible and stepped forward to speak.
“Mocked, stripped, scourged until His flesh hung in strips and, finally, in the company of murderers and thieves, nailed by the hands and feet to a cross,” the preacher began. “That is the picture that His enemies would have had you remember, but they did not recognize what was really happening, what they themselves were a part of. They did not see a willing sacrifice, a life laid down in recompense for the sins of humanity or a love so great that it could allow such a thing. And they were not there when Christ took up His earthly form once more and stood among His beloved, proving Himself to be the Son of God, worthy and perfect in every way. So today, as we, His children, bask in the radiance of His resurrection, grow in the glow of His love and rejoice in the light of the forgiveness and grace with which He gifted us, let us praise Him.”
Lifting their hands, the pastors began to pray, one after the other praising and thanking God with simple eloquence and humble gratitude. At the end, they spoke a gentle “Amen” together, which the congregation echoed. Then a woman whom Ivy recognized as former classmate Becca Inman stood in the midst of the crowd and began to sing a well-known Easter hymn in a clear, beautiful voice. Others began to join in, coming to their feet as they did so. With the song gaining in volume, Ivy, with Ryan at her side, also rose.
She did not realize that tears streamed down her face until Ryan pressed a clean linen handkerchief into her hand. With her thoughts elsewhere, she barely managed a smile for him. Instead, she envisioned that glorious day of resurrection. That miraculous event proved the sacrificial intent of the crucifixion, but for so long Ivy had ignored it, seeing it as just one more improbable, two-thousand-year-old story that had nothing to do with her own life today.
Ivy knew now what a fool she had been. She’d looked at her father, a man who had always gone to church, and seen the bitterness that had marked his life. She’d wanted no part of that, and somehow that bitterness had equated with church in her mind, and church had equated with Christ. Only when she’d been introduced to her Savior and surrendered her life to Him had the stories of Easter become dear to her, more dear than all she had given up to follow her Lord.
She had found forgiveness and a new beginning by surrendering her heart and soul to Jesus Christ. In many ways, she felt resurrected herself. But sin, as she had learned, still has consequences. She understood that, like everyone else, she lived with the consequences of her choices in the here and now. Thankfully, she could trust God to give her everything she needed to cope with those consequences. He would help her stop making the mistakes that had so devastated her life.
Ivy closed her eyes and claimed that promise again now. Dear Lord, show me how to live to please You, and help me make up for all I’ve done. Help me mend what I’ve broken and ease the pain I’ve caused. Help me endure the anguish I’ve caused myself and find some measure of peace. Most of all, show me Your will for my life, and help me to live it. Thank You for Your Son and His sacrifice. Thank You for Your forgiveness and for choosing to see me through Him. Amen.
She felt a moment, an instant, of that longed-for peace. Then, suddenly, there came a shift in the atmosphere, a literal tightening of the air around her, like the moment before a lightning strike. Ivy opened her eyes to encounter the angry visage of her father. Stunned, she could do no more than stare back at first.
He looked worn and tired, far older than his fifty-four years. The skin of his long, narrow face drooped in loose wrinkles, while gray streaks roughened the thatch of his light brown hair and liberally salted his bushy eyebrows, giving him the hangdog expression of a man who had seen and lost too much. As her heart lurched into her throat, Ivy’s conscience cried out, I did that to him! Thankfully, the words did not make it to her mouth. Ryan spoke first.
“Hello, Olie. I was just telling Ivy last night how long it’s been since I saw you.”
Her father ignored Ryan, his icy, gray glare burning into her like the flames of the still-flickering torches. Ivy glanced around, realized that the service had ended and took a tentative step closer, saying urgently, “Dad, I—I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Me?” he mocked. “You didn’t expect to see me here?” He stabbed a finger at the ground, declaring, “This is my home, girl, not yours, not anymore. I thought I made that plain when you showed up the last time!”
“Dad, please,” she begged softly, all too aware of Ryan standing there. “That was a long time ago. I know I disappointed you. I disappointed myself, and I’ve paid a heavy price for it. Can’t we at least talk about it?”
“Talk?” he scoffed. “Not likely.”
“I just want to tell you how sorry I am, Daddy.”
“Don’t call me that! I’m not your daddy. No tramp like you will ever be a daughter of mine.”
“Olie!” Ryan exclaimed, his tone that of the scolding assistant principal.
“You don’t know the truth about her,” Olie told him roughly. “No one does, because I’ve kept her secrets.” He shook a finger at her. “But only so long as she stayed away. Now she’s here, the truth will finally come out, and the truth is she sleeps with a man she never married and makes her living spreading filth. She even got herself—”
“Please don’t!” Ivy cried, interrupting him before he could spew the worst of it. “Please! I’ve changed.”
“Change?” Olie ridiculed. “It’s too late for change! Just go slither back under your rock and leave us be!”
Ivy couldn’t bear anymore. Clutching Ryan’s arm, she stammered an incoherent apology.
“S-So sorry. I—I never thought he’d be here. Excuse me! I—I need…” She took off at a run, fresh tears streaming down her face.
Behind her, she heard Ryan speaking in his stern, assistant principal’s voice, but she didn’t even try to register the words. What did it matter anyway? What did any of it matter? Her father would never forgive her, never let her forget, even for a moment, what she’d done. As if she could!
Ignoring the curious stares of others, she hurried away, wanting only to reach the privacy of her room, where she could pour out her heart to God and see if she could recapture even a glimmer of the peace she so desperately wanted.

Chapter Four
Ryan parked his hands at his waist, watching in shock as Ivy fled the park in tears. Turning back to the author of this ugly public scene, he pinned Olie Villard in place with a glare before stepping close to growl, “Good grief, man! What’s wrong with you?”
Even slightly cowed, Olie remained unrepentant, sticking out his long, narrow chin at a pugnacious angle. “She’s what’s wrong with me, Ivy and her filthy ways. Like mother, like daughter, I tell you, and if you’re smart you’ll keep your distance from her!” Swinging his lanky frame around, he stalked away, his hands fisted at his sides.
Sighing, Ryan cast a wary glance over the area, wondering who might have overheard. He saw several curious onlookers but turned aside their attention with a level gaze and pointed smile before bending to sweep up the shawl that Ivy had left behind in her haste. He shook out the thing, telling himself that he would return it. Frowning, he considered Olie’s unpleasant words and Ivy’s tearful response.
She hadn’t exactly denied her father’s accusations or, in all fairness, admitted to them. Still, at this point, Ryan could not escape the unhappy conclusion that Ivy had made some big mistakes in her life.
He was not one to judge; he’d made his own blunders. After the deaths of his parents, Ryan had figured that he had no reason to live an exemplary life. Why should he live his life, according to the godly rules and ethics taught him by his father and grandparents? What good had it done his dad?
His mother had always been rather fragile. The only child of a doting, widowed, older father, she’d been too well protected in many ways and more than a little self-centered. When her husband had died so unexpectedly in a freak accident on the job, her chief concern had been who would take care of her with him gone? No one had realized until it was too late, that in her grief and panic, she would swallow every prescription pill she could find.
As a college student separated from his remaining family by just enough distance to guarantee no interference from them, Ryan had buried his grief and anger with months of partying. He had told himself at the time that it was nothing more than a rite of passage. Only after returning home for the summer and reconnecting with his older brother, younger sister and paternal grandparents did he find enough peace to reclaim God’s purpose for his life.
The rest of the family had been struggling, too, but together they had all managed to put the dual tragedy behind them. In helping to assuage their pain, Ryan had found balm for his own. The steady, sturdy love of his family had given him strength and direction, and their wise counsel had helped him find his calling. He’d learned to value the integrity of his own soul above gold or anything else the world had to offer.
He knew too well how easily rebellion could be justified by a spirit blinded with grief or rage or the lure of worldly things, so he would not judge Ivy. Getting caught up in a public family feud made him distinctly uncomfortable, and he certainly wasn’t ready to upset the order of his life, no matter how drawn he felt to the beautiful woman Ivy had become. Still, he could not help wanting to protect Ivy from her father’s anger.
He would return the shawl, but perhaps, Ryan decided, it would be best to give Ivy some time alone. Maybe, in the meantime, he could figure out the best way to deal with this mess. Her wrap in hand, he trudged back to the motel to seek the counsel of his family. So much for his intention to keep them in the dark concerning his date, if that was the word for it, with Ivy this morning. Along the way back to the motel, he prayed for guidance, knowing that if he was not very careful he could find himself more involved than seemed wise for a man who had never been comfortable with the idea of trusting his heart to any woman.

“I admit I heard some talk about Ivy,” Hap Jefford said in his gravelly voice, “and I been concerned for some time now ’bout Olie.”
Dropping down into his usual chair at one end of the oval maple dining table in the apartment behind the lobby of the motel, Hap bent and began the process of lacing up his boots with fingers gnarled by age and arthritis.
“Carrying around that much bitterness can’t be good for a fellow,” Holt put in, turning away from the high chair where he had just deposited Ace. Going down on his haunches, he began to help his grandfather with the boots.
The two so resembled each other, despite the forty-four years between them, that old photos of Hap were often mistaken for current ones of Holt.
The family had just returned from the late service at First Church, and while Charlotte and Cara had gone into the small kitchen to get dinner on the table, the men had made themselves comfortable in the apartment dining room. For Holt, Ty and Ryan, that amounted to removing their jackets and ties and rolling up their shirtsleeves before taking their customary chairs at the table; for Hap it meant shucking his decades-old black suit and trading it for his usual flannel shirt, denim overalls and work boots. Emerging from his bedroom once more, he had picked up the conversation about Ivy where they’d left off earlier.
“Care to elaborate on just what it is that you’ve heard?” Ryan asked. Much as he disliked gossip, he wanted to know what caused Ivy’s pain and Olie’s anger.
Hap shrugged and rasped, “Mostly it was about that radio show of hers. I’ve heard the term vulgar in connection with it.”
That, unfortunately, dovetailed with what Ryan had heard at the banquet the previous night.
“I’ve listened to that show,” Ty admitted. “I’m ashamed to say it used to be one of my favorites. For what it’s worth, it was mostly her partner, FireBrand Phillips, saying and doing the risqué things, but vulgar isn’t too strong a term for what I heard. I guess the thing is that when being outrageous is your trademark, you have to find a way to constantly outdo yourself. It got to be too much for me even before I met the Lord.”
Hap made a mournful, disapproving sound deep in his throat. “Pitiful way to make a living.”
Ace growled in an attempt to copy the old man’s sound, and Hap smiled indulgently at the boy. Theirs was a mutual admiration society.
Charlotte came in from the kitchen bearing china dishes and flatware, which she carried to the table before heading over to the maple hutch to gather tablecloth, place mats and napkins. “According to what they said when they recognized her at the banquet last night,” Charlotte reminded them, “that’s all behind Ivy now. She and that Phillips have broken up the act.”
“That is what it sounded like,” Holt agreed.
“Look, for all we know, Ivy had a change of heart about the way she was making her living,” Charlotte said. “I, for one, think she should get the benefit of the doubt.”
“She did go to early service with Ryan this morning,” Holt pointed out.
“Which had nothing, I’m sure, to do with him personally,” Ty quipped, “him being such an unappealing cuss.”
Ryan pulled a face at his brother-in-law. “I don’t think she’d have gone at all if she’d known Olie would be there.”
“Shame, what he did,” Hap said.
“She ran off in tears,” Ryan recalled softly. “It was heartbreaking.”
“Even if what the gossips say about Ivy is true,” Charlotte went on, “Christians should show her the love of Christ, as I’m sure you all know.”
“Well, that settles it then,” Hap announced, slapping a knee for emphasis.
Ace smacked the tray of his high chair.
“Settles what?” Ryan asked in confusion, unaware of anything that needed to be settled.
“We’re inviting her to dinner, that’s what,” Charlotte answered briskly. Charlotte had been thirteen when their parents had died and, with both of her older brothers out on their own, she’d moved into the motel with their grandparents. At twenty-seven, having lived more than half her life with Hap Jefford, she could practically read the old man’s mind. Charlotte and their grandfather had grown especially close after the death of their grandmother a few years ago, so close that her brothers had feared she would devote herself to Hap and never marry.
“You’ve got to take her key over anyway,” Cara told Ryan from the kitchen doorway, an apron cinched around her slender waist. “That’s what she said when I let her in the room earlier, that you were holding her key for her and she’d forgotten to get it back.”
That and the shawl, Ryan reflected unhappily. Shifting in his chair, he pressed his elbows to the tabletop and spread his hands, saying, “I’m not sure I’m the one who ought to speak to her.”
“Of course you are,” Charlotte retorted dismissively. “Who else?”
“Maybe she’d rather have a woman to talk to,” he suggested hopefully.
“Instead of a strong shoulder to cry on?” Cara asked in a skeptical tone. “I don’t think so.”
Exasperated, Ryan sighed, knowing he was on the hook but still squirming. “Well, she might need a little more time to compose herself.”
“Nothing raises the hair on the back of a man’s neck like a woman’s tears,” Holt observed wisely, “because he’s either got to run or let her use his shoulder for a hanky.”
“Running would be cowardly,” Charlotte sniffed.
“And the other doesn’t sound very heroic, either, put that way,” Cara chided lightly.
Holt lifted his eyebrows. “That’s because you’re not a man, thank the sweet Lord.” That won him a warm smile and the glint of a promise from his wife’s big, worshipful eyes. He smirked at Ryan. “Coward or hero? Your choice, little brother.”
“Maybe because you’re so experienced, you should do it,” Ryan snapped.
Cara waved a hand to let them know she would be making that decision. “Uh. No.” With that, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a smugly grinning Holt behind her.
Ty cupped his hands behind his head and looked at Charlotte, who snorted and said, “Don’t even think about it.”
Ty turned to Ryan. “Sorry, pal. It’s you or Hap.”
“You took her to sunrise service,” Hap grated out.
Rolling his eyes, Ryan pushed up to his feet, snagged his coat from the back of his chair and tossed it on. Obviously, he would get no peace until he’d done what they wanted. Why had he wanted their advice, anyway?
“Just for that,” he scolded, wagging his finger between his brother and brother-in-law, “you two can set the table without my help.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Jefford, sir,” Tyler quipped, winking at Holt. “He does love that mantle of authority, doesn’t he?” Holt chuckled.
Ace put back his head and laughed, not having the least idea what might be funny.
Ryan didn’t dignify their laughter with a reply, but it was clear that no one here gave one instant’s consideration to his discomfort. Didn’t they realize that a small-town assistant principal and coach lived in a fishbowl? He couldn’t be caught in the middle of a public family dispute—even if it wasn’t his family.
“I’ll get an extra place setting,” Charlotte announced as Ryan turned toward the front room, adjusting his collar. “Way this family’s growing,” she went on, “we’re going to have to buy more china soon.”
Shaking his head, Ryan gathered up the paisley shawl and went out into the lobby, pulling the door closed behind him. Once alone, however, he paused to close his eyes and send up a quick prayer. He felt mixed emotions—guilt about his reluctance to face Ivy, yet a growing excitement at seeing her again.
Lord, I’ve always liked Ivy, and I can’t help feeling sorry for her. I’ll help her if I can, but please don’t let me get sucked into something that I have no business getting involved in. I saw the hurt on her face and felt the sting of Olie’s words, and I know that she needs comfort and support. I want to be her friend, I really do. And yes, I have to admit she’s beautiful. Just show me how to help her without… He bowed his head a little lower, suddenly feeling chastised, and went on. Just show me how to do it in a way that honors You. Amen.
Couldn’t go wrong with that, he told himself, patting his pocket to be sure the key hadn’t gone missing and heading for Ivy’s room.

This had to stop, Ivy told herself, sighing. She’d put it out of her mind for fifteen or twenty minutes, then she’d think of the look of contempt on her father’s face, of the acid tone of his voice, and the pain would return. Feeling so hurt was stupid, because she’d expected him to react as he had. She wouldn’t have believed it if he’d acted any other way. Still, it felt as if her heart had been cut out and handed to her on a platter, and all she seemed able to do, besides cry, was pray for strength.
Squaring her shoulders, she faced her image in the mirror over the dresser and took several deep breaths. She was in the midst of giving herself a stern, mental talking-to when the telephone beside the bed rang.
She’d noticed as soon as she’d arrived that her cell phone didn’t have reception, and she hadn’t made any calls from the room, so she couldn’t imagine who besides her sister would be calling her. It wouldn’t have been difficult, of course, for anyone who knew that she had taken a room at Heavenly Arms to reach her. Warily, she walked across the industrial-style carpeting and lifted the old-fashioned, corded receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Rose.”

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