A Broken Kind of Beautiful (34 page)

Ivy looked past a lane of light-up games lined with tacky stuffed animals and pointed to a large, roundish metal contraption sporting a long tail of kids and teenagers. “What’s that one?”

“Tilt-A-Whirl.”

“What does it do?”

He set his palm against his chest. “It breaks my heart that you don’t know.” He stepped closer, an enticing five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw. “It spins really, really fast and makes you stick to a wall.”

“Seriously?”

“I never joke about Tilt-A-Whirls.”

Her smile grew bigger.

“That’s what you want to ride?”

“Who doesn’t want to stick to a wall?”

“I should have known you wouldn’t pick the Ferris wheel.” He steered her toward the Tilt-A-Whirl line and deposited her at the end. “You want some cotton candy while we wait?”

Ivy shrugged. “Never had it.”

Davis shook his head, like it was all too much. “You hold our spot. I’ll be right back.” He dug his wallet from his pocket and melted into the sea of bodies.

She swiveled her head, following Davis with her gaze, an unfamiliar feeling of lightness stealing through her body. First crabbing in the marsh? Now cotton candy and a Tilt-A-Whirl, followed by fireworks on the beach? If she wasn’t careful, Davis and Greenbrier might do a number on her heart.
She placed her hand over the spot, as if to make sure they hadn’t already, when hot breath tickled her ear.

“Hey, sweet darlin’.”

She spun around, coming face to face with a man she didn’t recognize. He wore a smirk and a red hat with
Gamecocks
written across the front. He had the distinct bearing of a man who was once handsome and fit in his high school glory days but had lost his six-pack and chiseled jaw to beer and potato chips. He took a long swig from his plastic cup, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do I know you?” she asked.

“You should.”

Ivy rolled her eyes at the lame pickup line. She knew drunk when she saw it, and this man was clearly beyond. She made to move away from him. The Tilt-a-Whirl would have to wait. But he stepped in front of her and held up his cup, foamy liquid sloshing over the side. “Hey now, let’s not be so hasty. Why don’t you let me introduce myself?”

Ivy crossed her arms. “Okay. What’s your name?”

“Now that’s the spirit.” He tottered closer, his body reeking of stale beer.

Ivy leaned away.

“Name’s Doyle Flanning, retired quarterback of the Greenbrier Gremlins, the only one to ever lead his team to back-to-back state championships.”

“Impressive.”

He stepped closer, his head wobbling a bit on his neck. “Don’t think I don’t hear the sarcasm in your tone. Because I do, Ivy Clark. I hear it loud and clear.”

A shiver skittered its way up her spine. It wasn’t so much that he knew her name—since most people in Greenbrier seemed to—as it was the look in his eye when he said it—half lustful, half contemptuous. She glanced around Doyle’s large frame, searching for Davis. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Doyle. I should probably find my date.”

He snagged her elbow before she could walk away. “Where you off to so fast? We haven’t even finished our conversation yet.”

“Maybe you haven’t.” Ivy yanked her arm from his grip. “But I have.”

He reached out again, but before he could make contact, familiar hands shoved Doyle back. He stumbled backward, then popped up awfully quick for a man his size. “Hey now, was that really necessary?”

Davis stepped in front of her. “Looked to me like the lady didn’t want to be touched.”

Ivy couldn’t seem to find her voice, and not because of creepy-boy Doyle. Guys had touched her like that since she was fourteen. This was just the first time somebody got angry about it.

“You can get lost or I can make you get lost. Your choice, buddy.”

“Think you’re a tough guy, huh?” Doyle raised his cup into the air, beer splattering his forearm, and took several steps backward. “To Ivy Clark. A beautiful face. A gorgeous body. And an empty heart. Women like you get off on teasing men like me.”

Davis lurched at him.

Doyle brought down his cup and stumbled away.

But his words stayed behind. They hung in the air, taunting her with the truth. Beautiful and empty. That was her.

When the final fireworks boomed over the marina and the smoke hovered over the ocean like mist, Davis’s aunt and sister got up from the quilt. Marilyn shook sand from the fabric and folded it into squares. “You coming with us, Ivy?”

Ivy stared at the waves. “I’m going to stay here.”

Marilyn looked at Davis. Even with the faint light of a slivered moon, he could see his aunt’s raised eyebrows. All through the show, while he described each firework to Sara, Ivy hadn’t made a sound. Not a single appreciative
ooh or aah. Davis shrugged, though he suspected the reason for her melancholy. “I can take her home.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

Sara clapped her hands against her thighs. “Thanks for helping me enjoy the show.”

Davis wrapped her in a hug. “Anytime.”

He kissed Marilyn on the cheek and watched as she and Sara shuffled along with the thinning crowd toward the darkened boardwalk. Davis dug his toes into the sand, remembering a night similar to this one. Alone with Ivy. On the beach. When she’d told him her friend died of a cocaine overdose and he’d watched her cry. Davis nudged aside his flip-flops and joined her in the sand.

“Not impressed with the fireworks?” he asked.

She lifted her shoulders. He looked at her through the night, wishing he could see inside her mind and read her thoughts. “Ivy, please tell me you don’t believe a word Doyle Flanning said about you. Sara’s known him since high school. He’s twice divorced with at least one restraining order.”

“You think he was lying?”

“I think he was drunk.”

“So you don’t think anything he said was true?”

“Not one bit.”

She turned her face toward his. “Even the part about being beautiful?”

His skin flushed. Okay, so that part had been true. In fact, with the glow of the moon spilling over her bare shoulders and the ocean breeze ruffling her hair, Davis wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman more beautiful. Or broken.

“Trust me, Davis, Doyle knew what he was talking about.”

The words riled him. He wanted to kneel in the sand, grab her face, make her see. But somehow, he didn’t think his touch was what she needed. “Doyle doesn’t know you.”

“Neither do you.” The breeze blew a strand of hair in her face. Ivy peeled it from her cheek and brushed it away. “He was right. I tease men. I like to be wanted. It feels good.”

“God wants you.”

Ivy released a hollow laugh and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Come on.”

“I’m serious. He wants you more than any man ever has or ever could.”

“In case you forgot, my dad was married to another woman the night I was conceived. I might not know much about Christianity, but I know enough. Adultery is a sin and my life is the result. I was messed up from the beginning.”

“I don’t think you were messed up; I think the situation you were born into was. But you know something? God has a way of taking messed-up situations and flipping them on their heads.”

“Oh yeah? Give me one example.”

“Turning an executioner’s cross into a symbol of hope.”

Ivy hugged her knees tighter and looked out at the surf.

“Trust me, God wants you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I promise I’m not.”

“You don’t get it. I’m not clean, Davis. I’m about as far away from clean as a person can get.”

“He’ll forgive you.”

She shook her head. “If God hasn’t forgiven somebody like you, what chance is there for someone like me?”

He leaned back. What did she mean, if God hadn’t forgiven somebody like him?

“Ivy, God has forgiven me.”

She looked at him with eyes that crashed like the waves. “You don’t live like it.”

30

Ivy’s phone buzzed against her thigh. She snuck it from her pocket and peeked at the display. One new message. Bruce. Her gut twisted. The man went from ignoring her phone calls to leaving a message a day—always the same.
“I need to give Juliette an answer, Ivy. We’re running out of time here. Is Davis in or out? For your sake and mine, he better be in.”

She prodded the phone with her finger. How long would he let her ignore him? He was Bruce Olsen, after all. Her uncle, yes. But also one of the most influential modeling agents in New York City. He wasn’t accustomed to waiting.

“Everything okay?” Davis asked.

With his camera hanging around his neck, his face looked the exact opposite of her unease. After a week of tiptoeing around each other, the air between them was finally starting to normalize. Their night on the beach after the fireworks last weekend had flipped some sort of invisible switch that threw them both into uncertainty. She still wasn’t sure what to do with a man who rejected her advances but told her about God’s love with a conviction that puzzled her.

“Ivy?”

“Of course I’m all right.” She stepped onto the rickety porch of Twila’s home and winked at the frail girl wrapped inside a blanket in her wheelchair, despite the humid warmth of late morning. Before Bruce’s phone call, she’d been more than okay. Twila had loved every minute of the photo shoot.

Davis turned the wheelchair around and clunked it up the steps.

Twila laughed, her heart-dotted kerchief fluttering in the breeze like a boat sail.

Ivy’s heart lifted. She’d been right to talk Davis into this. Right to indulge Twila. Birds chirped from the trees as the sun rose toward its peak, the air filled with just the right combination of magnolia and sulfur—a scent she was growing to love.

She cast a secretive glance at Davis. Golden sunrays highlighted his profile. Smooth forehead—unwrinkled and relaxed. Blond hair recently trimmed. “You’re glad you did this, aren’t you?”

“I guess I owe you thanks.” He gave Ivy a reluctant grin, then twirled Twila around on her wheelchair. “And thank you, young lady. For giving me one of the most enjoyable experiences behind a camera I’ve ever had. You are truly an inspiration.”

Twila blushed.

So did Ivy.

The front door squeaked open. Annie stepped onto the porch, the screen door whapping shut behind her. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, Mama, it was so much fun!” The girl bounced in her chair. She seemed so much healthier today. It lifted Ivy’s spirits. “And Ivy gave me a free ticket to the fashion show! She said I can come backstage and everything.”

Annie’s smile didn’t match the pinch in her eyebrows.

“Is that okay?” Ivy asked. “I guess I should have checked with you first.”

Davis rolled Twila inside the home.

When the little girl was out of earshot, Annie scratched her elbow and leaned closer to Ivy. “The doctors stopped Twila’s chemo treatments.”

No wonder she looked better. “That’s not a good thing?”

“They want to build her strength. My sister got tested and we found out she’s a match. I think we might be doing a bone marrow transplant real soon.”

All of a sudden, the air felt thick. Unbreathable. “Is it safe?”

Annie’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s sort of like a Hail Mary pass, you know?”

Those words would not leave Ivy’s head. Not on the drive home and not when Davis walked her to her door, the consummate gentleman. She didn’t stop talking the entire way. Maybe, if she talked long enough and fast enough, Annie’s news about Twila wouldn’t have time to settle over her heart.

“The fashion show’s in two weeks, and we really don’t have that much to do. I mean, we have to do the fitting with the models, and I should probably teach them to walk. I can make some calls. Confirm things with Arabella. Make sure everybody who promised to auction off packages is still willing. That sort of thing. But other than that, I think we’re good to go.”

She inhaled and kept going. “Then there’s Sara’s surprise party. I promised your aunt I’d help her organize it. So I’ll keep busy doing that too. Marilyn said your mom would be coming to town for it. When do you think you’ll have those pictures ready, by the way?”

Davis blinked.