Page 52 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)

Campbell

Six Months Later

I run up a set of stairs, glancing at my watch. I’m late, and it’s all Zane’s fault.

Toward the end of my shift, I’d been working a small wreck, which had also involved the fire department, and just like every other time there is something to gossip about in this town, Muriel and Ethel had shown up.

They had spotted Zane first, and I had been content to let him deal with the two troublemakers.

But, somehow, he’d managed to talk them over to me, and then he’d promptly disappeared.

I spent an hour trying to escape their clutches, but it’s okay.

I’ll bide my time and get my payback when he least expects it.

Bursting through the doors, I find six eyes staring back at me.

“Wasn’t it you who told me not to be late?” Willow quips as I take a seat on a brown leather couch beside Ivy.

Kissing Ivy’s cheek, I turn back to our daughter. “Yeah, but I’m an adult.”

Willow huffs, but a secret smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Barely.”

This is my favorite part of our relationship, and six months ago, I was terrified I would never get it back.

She was angry with me for saving her. After Ivy had shown up, I carried Willow to her car, and I held her in my lap all the way to John and Jackie’s house.

Once we were there, the four of us sat down together and came up with a plan.

We started by enrolling Willow in a four-week program that focused on getting her on the right medicine and starting therapy.

She was angry about that, too, not just at me, but at everyone.

I was the one who took the brunt of her anger, though.

It took almost a full month before Willow would talk to me again, but I kept showing up, taking the punishment.

I needed her to know that I wasn’t giving up on her, no matter what.

Our relationship is slowly starting to heal.

One of the things the doctors suggested after Willow completed her program was family therapy.

Now, every Thursday at five o’clock, that’s what we do.

Sometimes it’s all of us—John, Jackie, Kolton, Willow, Ivy, and me—and sometimes it’s just us—Ivy, Willow, and me.

Those are the days I think she lets me in the most.

“If you two are finished,” Dr. Kline, our family therapist interrupts with a bemused smile, “we will get started.”

“Sorry,” Willow mutters.

I dip my head. “Yeah, sorry.”

Dr. Kline leans back in her chair, clearly not fooled. “Mmm-hmm, I’m sure you are. Campbell, since you were late, let’s start with you. You know the drill. Close your eyes and assess your feelings, your real feelings.”

I do as she asks, letting my eyes slide closed and taking stock of the emotions running through my body.

I don’t rush it because I’ve learned that sometimes feelings lurk beneath the surface, waiting to send me into a tailspin if I try to work through them too quickly, but not today.

Today, there’s only one thing I’m feeling.

Opening my eyes, I meet the doctor’s stare. “Well, what do you feel?”

A smile splits across my face as I drop Dr. Kline’s stare and turn to my daughter and Ivy.

“Happy,” I say to them. “I finally feel happy.”

______________________

Ivy is standing in the middle of a crowd. A hundred people vie for her attention, yet, despite all the chaos, all I see is her. I’m standing on the outskirts, letting her have this moment, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

Today is the unveiling of the mural. Ivy and Willow have put in a lot of work to get it back to what it was before Willow painted over it.

Willow has spent every second of her free time, trying to make up for that one mistake, not that she had to.

Ivy wasn’t mad at Willow, but I did sit her down and talk about the dangers of what she was doing.

She glared at me the whole time, but she listened—and that’s all that matters to .

Once the mural was close enough to completion, Ivy had a tarp put up so no one could see what she and Willow were working on.

The whole town has been buzzing with gossip about it, taking their guesses for what the painting will be.

Ethel and Muriel seem to be under the impression that it’s a portrait of them.

“You’re being a stalker again. Just go talk to her.”

I jump as Willow walks up beside me. I’d been so caught up in watching Ivy that I didn’t hear her approach. When I recover, I turn my head and glare at the pure satisfaction glimmering in her eyes.

“It’s not stalking when you are dating,” I argue.

Willow gives me a look of pity and pats my arm. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, Dad.”

Even though she’s making fun of me, my chest warms every time she calls me dad. After that day at the bridge, she never stopped, even when she was at her angriest, and I cherish it every time.

“Are you two picking at each other again?” Ivy’s voice runs along my skin, and I smile, turning to find her standing only a few feet away now. Her eyes flick between Willow and me, standing with her arms crossed over her chest and a bemused smile on her mouth.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about. Right, Dad?” Willow says, taking the same stance as Ivy.

Ivy purses her lips, waiting for my answer, and I scratch at the back of my neck. “Well—” Willow elbows me in the rib. “I mean, right. Willow wasn’t bullying me.”

Rolling her eyes, Ivy steps forward and presses up to her toes kissing my cheeks.

“Well as long as she wasn’t bullying you,” she says, amusement coloring her voice. Turning to Willow, her face turns serious. “Lily is waiting on us. Are you ready?”

Willow’s lip slips between her teeth, and even though I know she will never admit it, I can tell she’s nervous. Reaching out, I tug on one of her curls. “It’s going to be great.”

She swats my hand away, pretending to be annoyed, but the anxiety in her eyes doesn’t shine as bright. “Yeah, whatever. I know that.”

She waves me off as she walks away, and I chuckle as she goes.

Ivy still stands by my side and when Willow is no longer in view, I grab her waist, pulling her so we are hidden behind a car.

Then I press my lips to her, kissing her like I’ve been wanting to do since the moment I laid eyes on her today.

She kisses me back, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding me to her, and when she pulls back, there is a smile on her face that lights up my whole world.

“What was that for?” she asks, her words coming out breathless.

I press my lips against hers one more time before giving her an answer. “For good luck. Not that you’ll need it, but Ethel and Muriel might be a little mad if the painting isn’t of them.”

Her head tilts back, and her laughter spills into the sky. I watch, taking in the kind of moment I thought I’d never have again.

“I have to go,” Ivy says, pulling out of my hold, “but I’ll be on the lookout for when they find it isn’t.”

She leaves me with a kiss on the cheek, and I watch her until she disappears back into the crowd.

Once she is gone, I walk over to find a spot for the unveiling.

John, Jackie, and Kolton all stand toward the front.

John waves me over to stand by them. When I reach them, he sticks his hand out, shaking mine.

The Bryants have become like family over the last six months.

It’s not been easy, but we’ve done it for Willow.

“Campbell,” Jackie says, pulling me into a hug as a way of greeting.

I hug her back, and then a microphone crackles to life, pulling our attention to the wall.

“If I could have your attention,” Lily says, and the crowd starts to quieten down, turning their attention to her.

“As you know, I was placed in charge of the rebuilding of the community center. This is a place that is very dear to my heart, and I want it to be a place that represents this community and all the people who make it great. As a way to remember that, I hired Ivy to paint a mural for the grand opening, and without further ado, I am going to turn the mic over to her so she can tell you about her vision.”

The microphone changes hands, and Ivy steps forward. But she’s not alone. Ivy and Willow stand hand in hand, a replica of one another. The picture of the two of them together is every dream I’ve ever had, and I can’t take my eyes off them.

“Hello,” Ivy says into the mic. “I just want to start by saying that Benton Falls has always felt like home to me, but it wasn’t the buildings or the scenery that made it home.

It was always the people—the ones who welcomed me with open arms and helped me remember that family isn’t just the ones who share your blood.

It’s also the ones who see you through life—both the good parts and the bad.

” She stops, finding my eyes, and I smile.

Taking a deep breath, she continues, “This painting is for the people here who have seen me through.”

Ivy hands off the microphone to Lily and walks to where the tarp still hangs. Willow follows, standing on the other side, and when they lock eyes, they pull away the tarp, revealing the mural.

A round of appreciative murmurs rumbles through the crowd, but I’m frozen, staring at a painting that will forever be my favorite.

Just like in the painting I bought from Ivy’s first art show, a willow tree stands in the center.

Ash still covers parts of the ground, but for each speck of gray paint, there is also green.

New growth is peeking through the places that were burned.

The limbs of the willow tree sway in the wind, healing from the destruction, and the words, rising from the ashes, are painted into the bark.

It’s a picture of healing and hope. A story of who we are as a community.

And as I take in the girl I’ve always loved and the daughter I wasn’t supposed to know about, I can’t help thinking back to all those times I thought my prayers weren’t being answered. I couldn’t see it then, but they were just leading me here—to my salvation.