Deep Down (Lockhart Brothers #1) (18 page)

“I don’t know what to say, Walter. I’m so sorry about your daughter.”

He shook his head as we turned a corner. “No one forgets their darkest moments, Ivy. Just like you can’t forget it, neither can he. He’ll carry the shame until he takes his last breath. Nothing you could ever do or say could hurt like the truth he has to live with. Now, that’s not meant to minimize what you feel, because you’re very entitled to those feelings. I just want you to know that pain can seem inescapable, but it isn’t. Guilt, however, is inescapable.”

“He should feel guilty.”

“Damn right. And you should feel like a survivor.”

“I do.”

“After I read what you wrote, I went into my office and wrote for ten hours straight.” He laughed softly. “I haven’t done that in years. Do you know why I did it?”

I shook my head silently.

“Because you moved me, Ivy. With the raw honesty of your words. I felt the pain in that letter.”

I swallowed hard, pleased by the compliment. “I couldn’t think of anything else to write about.”

“Ah. Because those are strong feelings. How in the hell
could
you write about a tree or your favorite vacation when you’ve got that inside you?”

I smiled. Walter stopped at a bench in the park and gestured for me to sit down beside him.

“Putting things into words is cathartic, no?” he said.

“Very much. I should send him the letter, but . . . I’m not there yet.”

“Keep writing, Ivy. You have a leg up on other writers. You’ve experienced the depths of loss and hurt and love. Through not just your mother’s loss and what your father did, but the joy you experience through your son. Use those things. Draw on them and show others they aren’t alone. Tell stories that matter. Fiction is about characters who don’t exist, but their pain and sorrow and joy are very real.”

“I wanted to major in English in college but I wasn’t able to go.”

Walter furrowed his brow and looked at me over the thick rims of his glasses. “My books had made me seven figures before I went back and finished my degree. The only thing that can keep you from writing is you. Don’t let that happen.”

His words warmed me. “Okay. I won’t let that happen. Thank you, Walter.”

“And now we need to talk about the Lockhart boy,” he said, his grumpy tone returning.

“Reed?”

“I think that’s the one who’s been pestering me to convince you to go on a date with him.”

I laughed. “Sorry. I had to tell him something, and I figured you’d chase him off.”

Walter eyed me over the rims of his glasses again. “Because going out with an attractive, intelligent man who is obviously ass over teakettle for you would be so awful?”

I sighed deeply. “Well, now you know why, Walter. I closed myself off a long time ago.”

“You may have, but you’re fighting your way back.”

I gave him a skeptical glance.

“Ivy, as long as you keep your feelings deep inside, your father wins. You’re letting it come to the surface because you want more than that now. Let the anger and betrayal boil over and you’ll feel stronger. You’ll
be
stronger. All this time, you’ve survived, and I admire you for that. But maybe it’s time to do more than survive.”

“You’re telling me to go out with Reed?”

“I think you’d be crazy not to. I really believe he’s going to ask me every day for as long as it takes. He’s persistent, loyal and protective. And from what I know of them, the Lockharts are good people.”

“I think so, too.”

“So open up and try it.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling excited by the prospect.

“Walter, I feel like I’m the one who owes you a tip this time.”

“I won’t disagree.”

“Just don’t expect more than fifteen percent.”

I RAN MY FINGERS
over the small silver butterfly pendant on the necklace my mom gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I hadn’t looked at it since before she died. It had been tucked away in its box which, in turn, was wrapped up in a scarf, in a drawer of my dresser.

It was time to wear it again.

When I’d dropped Noah off at Margie and Gene’s earlier, she’d given me a gift box from a downtown boutique.

“I wanted you to have something new to wear tonight,” she said as she handed it to me after work. The hopeful, happy look in her eyes had made my throat tight.

Inside the box was an emerald green, cashmere V-neck sweater. It was more beautiful than anything I’d ever owed. I cried and then Margie did, too. Even Gene’s eyes looked misty.

When I got home and put the sweater on over a white cotton camisole with my favorite old jeans, I felt beautiful. Not just because of the sweater, but because Margie gave it to me out of love. Whether or not any of us said it out loud, she and Gene were family to me and Noah. They’d never had children of their own, and I knew we’d found our way to each other for a reason.

Since I had a token from Margie to wear on my date with Reed, it seemed right to wear the necklace, too.

I called April, but she didn’t answer so I left a message telling her I was going on a date. I knew she’d be happy and that she’d call tomorrow expecting details.

A knock sounded at the door and my stomach flipped over nervously. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and made the short trip from the bedroom to the door. When I opened it, Reed stood there smiling at me.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously. “I’m ready. I just need to get my coat and purse.”

I closed the door and turned to grab my stuff from the couch. A soft knock on the door made me open it up immediately.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking at Reed through the crack of light filtering in.

“Uh . . .” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Can I come in? I wanted to, um—”

I opened the door all the way, seeing the long white box in his arms for the first time.

“Oh. What’s that?”

He pulled off the lid, revealing a dozen long-stemmed red roses.

“Oh my God.” I met his eyes with surprise. “Reed, you didn’t have to do that. No one’s ever given me flowers. Unless a junior prom corsage counts.” I laughed nervously.

“Can I bring them inside?”

I stepped aside. “You can, but . . . my place isn’t much. You probably guessed that based on the proximity to the railroad tracks. And the missing siding on the outside of the building.”

“Ivy.” Reed stepped inside and looked around. “Don’t be nervous, okay? Your place is great.”

He looked around the living room, which consisted of a threadbare green couch with a blanket covering the cushions, a coffee table and pictures of me and Noah on the walls. I’d also framed several pictures he’d drawn or painted.

I reached for the box in his arms. “I guess I should put these in water, right? I don’t have a vase, but maybe I’ve got something else that will work.”

The kitchen was just a few feet away, and I stepped into it and looked through my cabinets, my heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t been alone with a man since . . .

I couldn’t think about that. Not now. I’d think about the sweater and the necklace and Reed, who had just brought me a dozen red roses.

My kitchen was filled with practical essentials. I didn’t own a single item that red roses would look pretty in. But I had to make something work.

There was an empty milk jug on the counter, waiting to be taken out to the trash. I grabbed it and rinsed it out in the sink. After I cut the top of it off to make room for the stems, it looked . . . hideous, but it was all I had.

I trimmed the ends of the roses, filled the empty jug with water and arranged the flowers in it. When I put it in the center of my small, scratched up kitchen table, I heard Reed laughing softly.

“Clever,” he said.

“Thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. You look gorgeous, by the way.”

My cheeks warmed as he looked at me. “I was hoping jeans would be okay.”

“Perfect.” He reached his hand out to me. “Are you all set?”

I took his hand and we walked out together after I grabbed my coat and purse, bundling it up under one arm so I could keep my hand in his.

For nearly four years now my gut had told me not to let men touch me. I wasn’t sure if it was my heart or my gut telling me now that Reed was different, and that I didn’t need to worry. Much as I wanted to be a strong, independent woman who didn’t need anyone but Noah, this felt good. When Reed opened the passenger door to his dark pickup truck, he kept hold of my hand while I stepped inside.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

His expression turned sheepish and he smiled. “Have you ever been to Stumpy’s?”

“No, but I think I’ve driven past it. Stumpy’s Supper Club?”

“Yeah. It looks like a dive, but the food’s the best.”

“Is Stumpy the owner?”

“Yeah. I don’t even know his real name. He started going by Stumpy after he lost his hand to a wood chipper.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I’m failing at romantic date talk here, aren’t I?” he said, grinning. “Stumpy’s the happiest guy you’ll ever meet. I think you’ll like his place.”

Reed closed my door and I watched him walk around the front of the truck to the driver’s side. He wore jeans and a navy blue sweater with a white dress shirt beneath. It was the best of both his sides. I liked rugged Reed from the barn dance, in jeans, a flannel shirt and boots, the best. But I also appreciated the way he looked in the suits that fit the lines of his large frame just right.

He got in the truck and had just started it when I blurted, “I haven’t been on a date in more than four years.”

His lips parted for just a moment, like he was about to speak. Instead, I continued. “I just . . . wanted you to know. My last date was in high school, and it was probably a trip to the Shack O’ Shakes for some ice cream. I’ve never been on an adult date. I’m kinda nervous.”

“The Shack O’ Shakes?” Reed arched his brows and smiled. “That sounds like a hometown favorite.”

“Kind of a tie with the Double Dipper,” I admitted.

“And what town was this in? Where’d you grow up?”

I looked away from him. “It’s a town in Michigan. A place of bad memories that I’d like to forget.”

“Consider it forgotten.” He put his hand on the back of my seat as he looked over his shoulder to back out.

We made small talk about Noah and his parents as he drove. I kept my hands in my lap, where I hoped Reed couldn’t see me squeezing them together so hard my knuckles turned white.

The gravel parking lot of Stumpy’s was so full when we arrived that Reed had to park in the grass. When we walked in to the dimly-lit restaurant, the savory smell of grilling steak made me remember how hungry I was.

A greeter led us to a wooden booth in a corner and Reed hung our coats on an ornate hook that adorned a rustic wood post next to our table. A waitress approached and we both ordered water.

“So,” Reed said when we were alone again. “You grew up in Michigan, and you like to dance. Tell me something else about you.”

I considered. “Hmm . . . well, I once won a spelling bee by spelling the word ambidextrous.”

“How old were you?”

“I was in fifth grade.”

“So you’re smart. I already knew that, though.”

I gave him a skeptical glance. “How would you know that?”

“You finally said yes to a date with me.” He grinned and I laughed at his sheepish expression. “Seriously, tell me about yourself.”

I shrugged. “I grew up in Michigan, as you know. My mom was a stay at home mom and my dad was a sheriff’s deputy. I’m an only child. I was planning to go to Stanford and major in English, but then I had Noah, so . . . there was change of plans.”

“Are you still in touch with his father?”

I shook my head. “It’s just me and Noah.”

“What about your parents? Do they ever visit?”

“My mom died when I was eighteen. And I don’t have anything to do with my dad anymore.”

“I’m sorry about that, Ivy.”

I shrugged. “I have Noah. He’s enough.”

The waitress returned with our water, a basket of bread and a big salad. I sipped from my glass and buttered a piece of bread, feeling self-conscious as I felt Reed’s intense gaze on me.

“You’re looking at me,” I said. “It makes me feel like maybe I have food in my teeth or something.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “There’s just nothing else here I’d rather look at.”

My cheeks warmed and I cleared my throat. “So, will you tell me more about you? I know you’re an attorney from a family with a crazy good gene pool and that you were once engaged. What else?”

“A good gene pool, huh?” Reed arched his brows with amusement.

“Well, look at you. All five of you. I assume your other brother’s attractive even though I’ve never met him.”

Reed shook his head. “He’s a troll.”

“I doubt that.”

“More about me . . .” he said, seeming to think about it. “You know I love basketball and boxing. I’ve got a black lab. I like to cook.” He shrugged as if to say, ‘That’s about it.’

“Why’d you move back home?”

“The short answer is to help out with my dad’s practice. He’s getting older and wants to slow down soon.”