privacy,” I said.
“I want you here,” said Ivy. That seemed to close the subject.
After a deep silence and a long sigh, Linus looked at Ivy. “Your mother promised me when we married that if the day ever came when you had reason to suspect that she’d tell you everything. I’m sorry she’s not being more forthcoming. She really hadn’t planned for you to ever find out. I won’t make her tell you what she doesn’t want to. But if you have questions I can answer, I’ll try. I know it’s not the same.”
“It’s something,” said Ivy.
Linus nodded and sipped his coffee.
“She didn’t trap you did she? I mean you knew when you married her right?”
“About you?” asked Linus.
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“Was she seeing both of you at the same time, or was it...? I don’t know how to ask it? Did she beg you to marry her, or what?” asked Ivy.
“She was in the choir, they both were, and even then I was the director. I showed up early for a rehearsal and overheard her tell Dylan that she was pregnant. He told her to get rid of it. They fought. When I realized the next day he had simply left town, I drove straight over to her Aunt’s house and proposed to her.”
“So she never really came clean with you. You just knew what was up,” said Ivy.
“She tried to tell me. But I stopped her, and explained how I’d heard the fight. She didn’t need to tell me the rest. We were married three days later.”
“I can’t believe she’d just marry you. Did she even really know you? Did she love you? How mercenary!”
“Don’t be so hard on her. She was a just a girl alone in the world. You’re older now then she was then. Think about it. What if it had been you? What if you’d turned up pregnant your sophomore year of college?”
Ivy sighed. “I guess you guys would have helped me. You wouldn’t have been happy about it, but you would have stood by me,” she said.
“Yes. But now what if it had been Kay here who turned up pregnant at twenty?”
They both looked at me, and I felt myself go a bit pale at the thought. “I couldn’t have gone back to my father. He’d have taken me back, but it would have been no way to raise a child,” I said.
“Exactly. Dory didn’t have anyone except her Aunt Susan. I know you never really knew Susan, so you’ll have to trust me. She wasn’t a kind woman.”
Ivy disengaged from the conversation by leaning back in her chair and taking several long sips of coffee.
“She’s been a good wife to me. I’ve tried to be a good husband to her.”
Ivy did not answer him, or look at him. When it became clear that she was done with the conversation Linus turned to me, and continued on with what he had to say as if she had not just ignored him. He often used this tactic when we were younger to get through to Ivy. Speaking to her; looking at someone else. Looking at me.
“You must not think I saved her. She saved me too. Maybe even more than I ever saved her. She gave me the family I’d always wanted, the sort of home I’d always wanted. No matter what you think at first glance it’s not false. We’d known each other, well, all her life. We both knew what we were getting. It is love. Me for her, her for me. We do love each other.”
I nodded, and tried to look empathetic but Linus and I knew it did no good. Ivy had already cast the villain of the piece. Not the bolting boyfriend. Not the bitter maiden aunt. Not the lonely old bachelor. Oh, no. Her own mother, and no one else.
Eleven
After Linus went back to his work, Ivy and I needed to find neutral ground. We tried the craft co-op first. I did buy the green sweater; Ivy had been right, it suited me. But the co-op was too close to home. Porter could have spotted us, or Mrs. Clack, or a dozen other people. I couldn’t relax, and neither could Ivy. Neither of us was in the mood for small talk. So in the end we headed to the nearest mall. What could be more neutral than a mall?
We combed through the
“I want you here,” said Ivy. That seemed to close the subject.
After a deep silence and a long sigh, Linus looked at Ivy. “Your mother promised me when we married that if the day ever came when you had reason to suspect that she’d tell you everything. I’m sorry she’s not being more forthcoming. She really hadn’t planned for you to ever find out. I won’t make her tell you what she doesn’t want to. But if you have questions I can answer, I’ll try. I know it’s not the same.”
“It’s something,” said Ivy.
Linus nodded and sipped his coffee.
“She didn’t trap you did she? I mean you knew when you married her right?”
“About you?” asked Linus.
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“Was she seeing both of you at the same time, or was it...? I don’t know how to ask it? Did she beg you to marry her, or what?” asked Ivy.
“She was in the choir, they both were, and even then I was the director. I showed up early for a rehearsal and overheard her tell Dylan that she was pregnant. He told her to get rid of it. They fought. When I realized the next day he had simply left town, I drove straight over to her Aunt’s house and proposed to her.”
“So she never really came clean with you. You just knew what was up,” said Ivy.
“She tried to tell me. But I stopped her, and explained how I’d heard the fight. She didn’t need to tell me the rest. We were married three days later.”
“I can’t believe she’d just marry you. Did she even really know you? Did she love you? How mercenary!”
“Don’t be so hard on her. She was a just a girl alone in the world. You’re older now then she was then. Think about it. What if it had been you? What if you’d turned up pregnant your sophomore year of college?”
Ivy sighed. “I guess you guys would have helped me. You wouldn’t have been happy about it, but you would have stood by me,” she said.
“Yes. But now what if it had been Kay here who turned up pregnant at twenty?”
They both looked at me, and I felt myself go a bit pale at the thought. “I couldn’t have gone back to my father. He’d have taken me back, but it would have been no way to raise a child,” I said.
“Exactly. Dory didn’t have anyone except her Aunt Susan. I know you never really knew Susan, so you’ll have to trust me. She wasn’t a kind woman.”
Ivy disengaged from the conversation by leaning back in her chair and taking several long sips of coffee.
“She’s been a good wife to me. I’ve tried to be a good husband to her.”
Ivy did not answer him, or look at him. When it became clear that she was done with the conversation Linus turned to me, and continued on with what he had to say as if she had not just ignored him. He often used this tactic when we were younger to get through to Ivy. Speaking to her; looking at someone else. Looking at me.
“You must not think I saved her. She saved me too. Maybe even more than I ever saved her. She gave me the family I’d always wanted, the sort of home I’d always wanted. No matter what you think at first glance it’s not false. We’d known each other, well, all her life. We both knew what we were getting. It is love. Me for her, her for me. We do love each other.”
I nodded, and tried to look empathetic but Linus and I knew it did no good. Ivy had already cast the villain of the piece. Not the bolting boyfriend. Not the bitter maiden aunt. Not the lonely old bachelor. Oh, no. Her own mother, and no one else.
Eleven
After Linus went back to his work, Ivy and I needed to find neutral ground. We tried the craft co-op first. I did buy the green sweater; Ivy had been right, it suited me. But the co-op was too close to home. Porter could have spotted us, or Mrs. Clack, or a dozen other people. I couldn’t relax, and neither could Ivy. Neither of us was in the mood for small talk. So in the end we headed to the nearest mall. What could be more neutral than a mall?
We combed through the
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