Page 13 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls (Ivy Falls #3)

PIPER

The Uncomfortable Pause

I did not have to say a word. Barb and Susan rushed behind me into the kitchen and helped loosen the ties on my apron.

‘Now don’t get in the way,’ Barb started. ‘When you get to the clinic, stay in the reception area until they come out.’

‘She knows, Barbie. Piper can’t go in anyway cause old Mrs V won’t hear of it. She loves getting into everyone else’s business, but when it come to her own privacy that woman is Fort Knox.’ Susan grabbed the apron once it was over my head.

‘Fine.’ Barb sagged against the counter. ‘Just be sure to tell Mrs V we’re here if she needs anything.’

‘Of course.’ I grabbed my purse from under the counter and raced out of the café. Tourists took their time ambling along the sidewalks and I quickly skirted around them.

The sun cooked the top of my head as I rushed along the block it took to get to the clinic.

My heart shouldn’t have been racing, but the minute I saw Mrs Vanderpool go whiter than the half-and-half on the table, slump down like a wet blanket, a breath caught in my chest. She acted like a cranky old bird, but she loved this community with her whole soul.

Her getting sick, possibly losing her, would change Ivy Falls forever.

I pushed away the darkness crowding my head. After years in therapy, I’d learned to recognize that even though my mind always went to the worst-case scenario, it was not the only outcome possible.

At the edge of the brick-paved path that led to the clinic’s front door, my thoughts went to Ford.

When we locked eyes across the café, it was like he could see all the dire endings playing out in my head.

As if he knew that I might crumble if Mrs Vanderpool didn’t get help.

Once he was beside me, he was as calm as a morning ocean.

The gentle tone of his voice stilling the panic that zipped through my veins.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to have him around.

When I reached the clinic’s door it wouldn’t open. Crap. Ford probably locked it behind them. The clinic was closed on Saturdays and I was sure he didn’t want anyone wandering in.

I sat on a wrought-iron bench beneath a massive magnolia tree and waited.

Cars buzzed through the town’s only stoplight.

Red, white and blue streamers dangled from light poles.

The city workers hadn’t taken down the decorations from the town’s Fourth of July celebration yet, and they resembled old, tattered flags floating on the breeze.

My nails dug into my palms leaving half-moon shapes.

Two years.

Over 740 days since that awful night.

At one time, I would have let the memory overwhelm me.

Drag me down into a dark and foreboding hole, but now I viewed the day I destroyed the Huckleberry Lane house like a rope drop at the beginning of a marathon.

It was the start of my new life. A path out of a dark and sinister chapter in my short existence.

I’d been to enough recovery meetings to know that I should take it one day at a time, but I saw the broader picture.

It wasn’t about forgetting the past but embracing it.

Remembering how my heart disintegrated when I woke to find Beck at my hospital bedside.

How he explained the destruction at the house caused by the partiers I hardly knew.

The deep purple smudges beneath his eyes sinking deeper as he told me about the pain I’d caused Torran and Manny.

That part of my life was a hell of my own making.

In that moment I swore I was never going back, and so far I’d made good on that promise.

As I waited, the wet heat of a Tennessee summer snaked its way around my bare neck, twisting the loose hairs at my shoulders into waves. I closed my eyes. Spoke my short mantra in my head until it was interrupted by the sound of repeated thuds.

Dex rode his skateboard in my direction. When he noticed me, he did a skidding maneuver, coming to a stop a few feet away.

‘Hey, Miss Piper. Whatcha doing here?’

Not wanting to add to the Ivy Falls gossip train, I replied, ‘Enjoying the morning. How about you?’

He stomped down on the back of his skateboard and caught the tip in his hand. ‘My mom was still sleeping when I woke up. Thought I’d let her have some quiet. She’s been working a lot lately.’

‘Have you been practicing your lines? The choreography for “Step in Time”?’

A flicker of worry flashed behind his eyes. ‘Uh. Yeah. Sure.’

‘The dance routine can be tricky at first. Do you need more help?’

‘No,’ he said too quickly.

‘All right, but if you need extra practice I’m happy to stay late at the theater any night you want.’

He scrubbed at his messy tangle of brown hair. ‘Like I said, I’m good.’

We both knew he wasn’t being honest, but I wouldn’t push. More times than I cared to count he’d tripped over his own feet while trying to learn the routine. His friends were beginning to razz him about it too.

He flipped the board around in his hands, looking everywhere but at me. A gurgle that sounded too much like the creature from Alien came from his stomach.

‘Have you eaten?’

He shook his head.

‘Head over to Sugar Rush. Go to the counter and tell Barb you need the morning special.’

‘I didn’t bring any money, and I got in big trouble the last time I was there.’

The guilty look in his eyes made my chest tight.

I remembered how hard it was to be his age – not quite a kid but not an adult either.

How the ups and down of puberty shifted faster than your growing body could handle.

Visions of me towering over seventh-grade boys, them taunting me with phrases like ‘Giraffe Girl’ and ‘Toothpick Legs’, weren’t memories easily forgotten.

‘It’s okay. Tell them I sent you.’

He started to argue until the door to the clinic opened and Silvio shuffled out with Old Mrs V on his arm.

‘I won’t take no for an answer.’ He gaped at the couple before I added, ‘Dex. Go now.’ The firmness in my voice had him dropping his board and skating in the direction of Sugar Rush.

‘Piper, what are you doing here?’ Mrs Vanderpool’s gaze was sharper than the tools Barb used to cut through rough dough.

‘I wanted to check and make sure you’re all right.’

She let out an agitated huff. ‘Like I told the doc, these old bones are doing absolutely fine.’

Dr Foster slid out the door and locked it behind him.

‘Doc, tell Little-Miss-Panties-In-A-Twist that I’m okay so she’ll stop looking at me like I’m headed for the great playground in the sky.’

‘Nope. We’re nowhere near that.’ His attention went to Silvio. ‘I’ve made a call. They’re waiting for you at the ER.’

‘I’m gonna dash over to the hardware store and grab my car,’ Silvio said.

‘What’s happening? Why are you going to the hospital?’ I said.

Mrs V patted my hand. ‘A precaution, sweetie. The doc says my vital signs are stable.’

‘If she’s stable, why can’t she go home?’

He went mute as he looked to Mrs Vanderpool.

‘The doc’s being cautious,’ she said. ‘Wants me to have a few tests to make sure my heart is in good shape. No need to worry.’

Silvio pulled up to the curb and Dr Foster escorted her to the passenger door.

She took a few steps and tossed over her shoulder, ‘Tell the gossips I’m tougher than the old clock tower. That you’re not getting rid of me so easily.’

‘Sure you don’t want to call and tell them that yourself?’ I said.

She gave me the one-finger salute and Dr Foster let out a thick laugh as he helped her into the car.

I waved at them as they drove off. Dr Foster stepped beside me, the scent of antiseptic and soap wafting off his skin. ‘That lady is tougher than an army howitzer.’

‘Yeah, she is, but that’s why everyone loves her.’

When they were out of sight, a sudden pain crowded my chest, forcing the air from my lungs. My legs shook, and my heart took off faster than a horse let loose from its corral. I started to gasp, dark spots clouding my vision.

‘Piper?’ He grasped my hand and led me to the bench. With a gentle touch, he eased me down beside him.

‘Tell me what’s going on?’

‘Panic attack,’ I gasped.

‘Close your eyes. Listen to the sound of my voice.’

I did as he said, the blood in my veins stretched and thrummed like it was desperate to burst from my skin.

‘Focus on the solid weight of the bench beneath you.’

‘Okay,’ I said, clamping my fingers around the curve of wrought-iron.

Like Dr Catherine told me, I tried to imagine my favorite spot. What it looked like. Was I near a lake or a mountain? Did I picture the day or night? The problem was I could never settle on a place or time. Ideas were always changing, shifting in my head like the current in a rapidly moving river.

‘Tell me where you were born,’ he said in a soft voice.

‘Fort Myers, Florida.’

My head throbbed. The scratch in my throat drier than desert sand.

Dammit. Why couldn’t I ever pick a place?

‘How old were you when you moved to Ivy Falls?’

‘I was seven.’

My heart slammed against my breastbone like an animal intent on bursting from its cage.

‘What is the first thing you remember about that time?’

‘The backyard was big. There was all this green grass. My dad hung a tire swing from a thick branch on a magnolia tree.’

‘The first time you used the swing, what color was the sky?’

‘A deep azure blue,’ I said, finally pulling in a solid breath.

‘How did it make you feel?’

‘Happy. Content. Like if I could pump my legs hard enough, I’d be able to touch the clouds.’

The weight of his hands, the press of his skin, grounded me. I let myself ease into the feel of him. How his voice was a cascade of warm water. His breath a gentle brush against my cheek.