A Broken Kind of Beautiful (13 page)

Hot wind tangled through Ivy’s hair. Early July in South Carolina was an awful time to drive around a rented car with a faulty air conditioner. Davis watched from the corner of his eye as she gathered it into a bundle and held it captive with one hand, stray wisps fluttering in her eyes. “Your grandfather’s a charming man.”

He pulled into the entrance of the Primrose Plantation. Before he left last night, Marilyn had taken him aside and told him about the conversation Ivy had overheard before dinner. It had made his chest ache, and as far as he knew, he hadn’t inherited any of Grandfather’s heart problems.

“I mean, seriously, charming.”

“He’s picky about who he likes.” That was a gross understatement. Grandfather rarely approved of anybody, which meant Ivy didn’t stand a chance.

“Well, he definitely likes me.”

“I wouldn’t let it upset you.”

“Do I look upset?”

He turned from the road and stared at her arched eyebrows. No, she didn’t. She looked bored or maybe untouchable. The ache in his chest returned. And with it, his father’s words …

Yet when it came to the woman in his passenger seat, Davis wasn’t sure Dad was right. He wasn’t sure he knew what he saw at all. The brakes squealed as he pulled the borrowed Mazda up to the gate where a boy sat inside an entrance booth. He slumped in the window, his hair sticking up from the back of his head like a broken mattress spring, eyelids tottering halfway between opened and closed. Davis slung his elbow over the side of his door and leaned his head outside the car window. “We’re here to see Mrs. Lipowitz.”

The kid pushed a mop of bangs around his forehead. “She’s out for the day.”

“We’re supposed to meet with her this morning.” Joan had said Sunday, and today was Sunday. He needed a storyboard prepared by Tuesday, but he couldn’t do that without seeing the place first.

“She called this morning.” The kid yawned. “Some kind of family emergency.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“She didn’t say.”

Davis scratched the back of his neck, then plucked his phone from the console and checked for messages. There were none. “My name’s Davis Knight. I’m doing a photo shoot for
Southern Brides
here on the property next week. We were supposed to meet with Mrs. Lipowitz today to tour the grounds and the home so we can prepare for the shoot.”

Another yawn split the kid’s mouth wide open; he didn’t even try hiding it with his hand.

“Is there any way we could meet with somebody else?” Davis asked. “Somebody in charge?”

“Tour guide can show you around.”

“Great. We’ll do that.”

“You’ll have to wait till he gets here, and he don’t do private tours.”

“When will he get here?” Davis mashed the words through his teeth.

The kid looked at his watch. “Forty minutes.”

“Okay, then. Could you let us inside and we’ll wait for him there?”

“I’m not allowed to open the gate to the public till nine thirty.”

By the time they made any leeway with this conversation, it would be half past ten. “Listen, we’re not technically the public. We were supposed to meet with Mrs. Lipowitz, and she was going to give us a private tour, remember? I’m sure, if you called her, she’d confirm everything I’m saying.”

“Sorry, mister, but I can’t bother her right now. And I’m not allowed to let anybody in without special permission.”

What did he need—a badge? He had special permission.

Ivy set her hand on Davis’s knee and leaned her body across his lap.

He pressed back against the seat, away from the scent of lilacs in her hair. What did she think she was she doing, leaning over him like this?

“What do people call you, handsome?”

The kid’s mouth dropped open, only this wasn’t a yawn. He’d probably never seen a woman like Ivy Clark in his life, let alone heard one call him handsome. Davis would have felt sorry for the young man if Ivy hadn’t gone and draped her body across his lap. The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Colton.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Colton.” She extended her arm toward Davis’s window and offered her hand. Colton stared at it with round eyes. When it was obvious he couldn’t, for whatever reason, reach his own hand out of the booth and shake Ivy’s, she brought it down on the steering wheel. “Listen, Colt, I’m having a rotten morning. The air in this car doesn’t work, and my hair’s all a mess. You know what would turn everything around?”

Colton did something with his head that looked like half nod, half shake.

“If you bent the rules a teensy tiny bit and let us in.” She pinched at the air with her fingers. “I promise we’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Um, yeah, sure. I guess I could do that.” A dazed-looking Colton reached for a button, and the gate squeaked opened.

“I sure appreciate it, Colt. We’ll make sure to tell the tour guide what a polite young man you are.” Ivy removed her body from Davis’s lap.

Shaking his head, he drove through before the kid regained his senses and changed his mind. “Poor Colton didn’t stand a chance.”

“Hey, everybody has to be good at something, right?” The faintest hint of something broken distorted her voice. It was a thousand times more intriguing than her winks or her touches or her smoldering stares.

Davis cocked his head. “That’s your talent—enchanting young men?”

“They don’t have to be young.”

An odd weight plunked on top of his shoulders—it had nothing to do
with Sara or photography and everything to do with Pastor Voss’s words gathering inside his brain:
“Maybe God wants to show Ivy Clark the same freedom.”
Davis was ninety-five percent sure Ivy didn’t want to leave her chains. Ninety-five percent sure she didn’t see them as shackles. But what about that other five percent? What if a piece of her—no matter how small—needed, maybe even wanted rescuing? The heaviness grew. And with it, that same pull, that same fascination he’d felt for Ivy when she was nothing but a ghost in Marilyn’s home, roaming the halls. Barely there. “You don’t have to resort to that to get a man’s attention.”

She lifted her shoulder. “It works for most men. At least, most normal men.”

“The implication being I’m not normal, since I haven’t fallen under your spell yet?”

“ ‘Yet’ is the key word.”

“You’re underestimating me.” This time when he got behind the camera, it wouldn’t be about women or fame. It would be about capturing beauty—like Dad had taught him. The beauty of weddings and marriage, a lifetime commitment, an institution created by God. He pulled into a parking space and unbuckled his seat belt.

“You’re underestimating me,” she said.

“I think you underestimate yourself.” His words came out quiet and gentle, but she flinched when he delivered them.

“You liked the plantation?” Marilyn asked as she zipped up the dress.

“It was fine.” More like captivating, but Ivy wasn’t in the mood to gush. Not when her head still spun from Davis’s morning yo-yo act. One minute, annoyed. The next, cautious. And the minute after that, so tender it stirred up a longing she didn’t want to feel—one that chafed like sandpaper. Annoyed. Cautious. Gentle. Annoyed. Cautious. Gentle. One-two-three. One-two-three.
Until Ivy’s head spun into a knotted spool of thread. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he act like a normal guy?

In an attempt to set her thoughts aside, Ivy focused on the dress. The strapless sheath hugged her body and stopped short of her knees, the silk cool and smooth against her skin. Marilyn held out a pearl-white shrug that matched the dress. Ivy slid her arms through and fit the garment over her shoulders. The high collar circled around the back of her neck like poppy petals, leading the eye down to her exposed clavicle, highlighting the honey-colored tone of her skin.

A dreamy look took hold of Marilyn’s face as she studied Ivy’s reflection in the mirror. Her mouth looked full of words, lots of them, but ever since last night’s dinner their interactions had turned into a stilted waltz—leaderless and clumsy. The kind of dance that fumbled through the song and fizzled out before the music ended. Marilyn clasped her hands beneath her chin. “I’ll go get your accessories.”

Ivy pivoted in front of the mirror to see her back and ran her hands down her front. The dress fit like Marilyn had stitched Ivy inside it. For one uncensored moment, she imagined herself walking down a rose-covered aisle, the church filled with faceless people as she headed toward her faceless groom. She let the image fade to black, hating the pin-sized hole it left behind. Falling in love and staying in love were two totally different beasts. While Ivy had mastered the art of getting men to fall in love with her, she stayed clear of the latter, and a wedding day most definitely required the latter. She pulled her shoulders back in an attempt to repair the pinhole leak and searched for Marilyn. The stupid dress fit fine. So get her out of it already. Who cared about the accessories?

“You’re a stunning bride.”

A young lady with carrot-colored hair stared at Ivy’s reflection, a spark of jealousy glinting in her almond-shaped eyes. “I could never wear a dress like that.” She adjusted the dress draped over her forearm, her opulent
diamond catching on some of the beading. “Those kind only look good on mannequins. Or people like you.”

Ivy made a coquettish turn in front of the mirror. “You like it?”

“It’s to die for.” The redhead looked at Ivy’s left hand. “Who’s the lucky man?”

Ivy hid her ringless finger behind her back, a delicious idea drizzling over her thoughts. Just how fast did the rumor mill spin in a town the size of Greenbrier? Maybe she couldn’t get into Davis’s bloodstream like she got into most men’s, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get under his skin. She turned around. “Davis Knight.”

The dress slipped down the girl’s arm. “Shut the front door!”

“Do you know him?”

“Know him? Girl, every bachelorette in Greenbrier knows him. He doesn’t exactly blend in, if you know what I mean. But then, neither do you.” She repositioned the dress over her arm. “Name’s Rachel Piper. My grandpa pastors the church where Davis works. The two of us went to school together. He graduated a year ahead of me. I didn’t even know he was dating anybody.”

“We haven’t made any announcements yet. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind romance.”

“Well, I’ll say. There’s going to be a lot of broken hearts in Greenbrier when y’all decide to spill the beans.”

A middle-aged woman with matching red hair waved from the back of the boutique.

Rachel rolled her eyes in an amused sort of way. “This is the twelfth dress I’ve tried on today. Mama’s on a warpath to find me the best one in South Carolina. But I’m sure you know how that is.”

The pinhole widened. No, Ivy didn’t.

“Well, you go on and tell Davis congratulations for me. You two make a gorgeous couple.” Rachel waved at Ivy’s reflection and hurried toward her mother, who held up a beaded ivory dress like a winning lottery ticket.

The widening leak left Ivy feeling like a deflated air mattress. She glared at herself in the mirror. She needed to get out of this dress and blow herself back up again. Find something entertaining, something loud and exciting to fill up the empty space. She snuck a glance at Rachel and her mother, heads together in the back of the boutique, gushing over their latest find, Rachel’s engagement ring refracting the light when a question whispered across Ivy’s soul.

She could reinflate herself all she wanted, but who was going to fix the leak?

Her shoulders wilted.

Marilyn returned and Sara followed behind, as blind as she was yesterday. She held on to the harness wrapped around Sunny, her guide dog. The yellow lab led her around the furniture and stopped in front of a cushy chair. Sara felt for the seat and sat down. “Marilyn said you look beautiful.” She clasped a necklace in her lap. “I wish I could see you.”

Unsure how to respond, Ivy placed her hand against her middle as Marilyn stood on tiptoe and pinned the birdcage veil with French netting to her hair. It was amazing how much the accessory completed the ensemble. Maybe Bruce was right. Wearing this dress at the Primrose Plantation with Davis behind the camera would make for some stunning photographs.

With the short veil fitted into place, Marilyn took the three-strand pearl necklace from Sara and fastened it behind Ivy’s neck. Ivy slipped on the high heels and examined her reflection. In a few days, she’d have to play the role of blushing bride. A woman in love. She smiled big and wide—like happiness bubbled up from her insides and spilled over onto her outsides. It looked too forced. She’d have to keep practicing.

Marilyn stepped back. “Someday you’re going to make a breathtaking bride.”

Ivy’s smile died.

Sara petted the top of Sunny’s head. “Davis is late. I was supposed to meet with my tutor twenty minutes ago.”

“Your tutor?”

“I’m learning to read Braille. Davis arranged it.”

“You two seem close.”

“I like to think so,” Sara said.

“I’ll be right back to get you out of this dress.” Marilyn touched Ivy’s elbow with cold fingers and excused herself to assist the mother-daughter duo—Big Red and Little Red—in the corner of the boutique.