A Broken Kind of Beautiful (25 page)

Sara came into view, struggling with a box in one hand, holding Sunny’s harness with the other. Ivy met her at the door and relieved her of the heavy bundle.

“Sorry I’m late. We lost track of time at the tutoring center. I’m finally starting to get the hang of Braille. I never thought I’d say it, but it’s kind of exciting.”

Ivy brought the box to the leather sofa by the display window and set it on the ground. “Haven’t you heard of an iPod?” she said, rummaging through dusty record jackets. “I didn’t even know cassette tapes and record albums existed anymore.” She pulled out a CD case. “Even CDs are endangered species.”

“I have a lot of songs on my laptop, but there’s something about holding
the music in my hands. And besides, we Knights never throw anything away.” Sara crouched low and patted the ground for the box. Her fingers brushed against Ivy’s. “Marilyn loves Big Band music. I was thinking we’d go that route. Classy and wedding-ish, but also high energy.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Like Count Basie. Have you heard ‘One O’Clock Jump’?”

“Nope.”

“It’s a blue CD case with black lettering.” Sara stood and gave a soft-toned command to Sunny who led her to the register. She fumbled around underneath the counter and came back with a CD player, stopping when her toe touched the box. She walked her fingers down the wall until she found the outlet, plugged in the player, and held out her hand for Ivy to hand her the correct CD.

“What’s up with the rubber bands?” Ivy asked. There was at least one strapped around every single CD case. Some had as many as ten.

“I’m trying to come up with a system so I know which CD is which, but I haven’t perfected it yet.” Sara removed three rubber bands and slid the CD into place. When the music came out of the speakers, Sara tapped her foot to the beat.

“Oh, can all y’all turn that up? Best song ever.” Arabella had stepped out from the dressing room and did an odd sort of wiggle with her body. Ivy’s insides warmed. Not because of the dance, but because of the dress. Ivy had chosen well. It looked amazing. “Gotta love Bing Crosby,” Arabella said.

Sara turned up the music. “It’s Count Basie, Bella.”

“Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.”

“More like tomato, rutabaga,” Sara mumbled.

Ivy laughed.

Arabella did another wiggle, then gave Ivy two thumbs up. “Are you a fashionista or what? This is the dress. I’m putting it on permanent hold, and maybe my Prince Charming will find me soon so I can move out of Doc’s
house. A girl my age shouldn’t be living with her daddy.” She hitched her thumb toward Ivy. “Mare, what are you paying your girl?”

Marilyn winked from across the boutique. “Not enough.”

Ivy looked at the floor, her cheeks warm.

“I heard the funniest rumor from Lena Bully—horrible last name, isn’t it? We were in line at Gumbo’s Grocer, both of us buying pickles, when she tells me Davis is engaged. But that’s not what got me laughing. She hands her pickles to the clerk and says he’s engaged to his cousin. And I said, well, this wouldn’t be the first time two cousins got married. But then I thought, no, Davis wouldn’t propose to his cousin.”

“Ivy isn’t our cousin.” Sara pushed aside a stack of cassette tapes bundled together. “At least not by blood.”

“It’s a rumor, anyway,” Ivy said. One she started to get under Davis’s skin. She had no idea it would eventually get under her own.

“Well, that’s a relief. My friend Connie—you remember Connie, don’t you?” Arabella turned from the mirror and pointed her words at Sara. “Davis’s old sweetheart? She would never say it, but if she got wind that Davis had dropped down on one knee for another woman, she’d be flat-out devastated.”

Ivy’s attention perked. Davis’s old sweetheart?

The song ended.

Marilyn shuffled Arabella into the dressing room.

Another song came and went. The CD spun inside the player. Arabella came back out, dressed in her regular clothes, and stopped in front of a display case of necklaces. Hangers scraped against metal as a customer browsed around the far side of the boutique.

Sara tucked a strand of limp hair behind her ear. “Do you like my brother?”

“Like him?”

“I’m trying to figure out why you started that rumor. Is it because you have feelings for him? Were you trying to prove something?”

“I started the rumor because I was bored.” Ivy crossed one leg over the other and bobbed her foot. Arabella’s comment about Davis’s old flame had flung the door to Ivy’s curiosity wide open. “Does your brother ever date?”

“You mean girls?”

“Well, he doesn’t date men, does he?” Although that
would
explain his lack of interest.

Arabella laughed, slowly turning the display case. “If Davis is gay, then he sure fooled Connie.”

“Davis is not gay,” Sara said, adjusting extra large rubber bands wrapped around an old album. “Please don’t start that rumor.”

Arabella clasped a rhinestone choker around her neck. “Hey, you have a birthday coming up, don’t you?”

Sara put the album in the box. “Over a month away, but Marilyn’s already planning a surprise party for me. You can come if you want.”

Arabella unclasped the necklace. “It’s at my restaurant, honey.”

“How is it a surprise if you know about it?” Ivy asked.

“This is Greenbrier. Secrets don’t exist. But people like to pretend they do.” Arabella brought her white-framed sunglasses over her eyes. “Sara, you make sure Marilyn keeps that dress on hold for me. I’ll never find anything more perfect.”

“Will do.”

Arabella wiggled her fingers and stepped out of the boutique.

Sara held up another CD. “Is this Ella Fitzgerald?”

“Yes.” Ivy tucked her hair behind her ear. “So, this Connie woman. What’s she like?”

“She goes to our church and writes for the
Greenbrier Tribune
.”

“And she’s still in love with your brother?”

“I’m sure Arabella was exaggerating. They dated a while ago.”

Ivy wondered how much digging she could get away with before Sara’s suspicion reached its threshold. She watched as Sara swapped CDs from the
player, returned Count Basie to his case, and wrapped it with three rubber bands. “Who does your brother date these days?”

“He doesn’t really.”

Ivy laughed. “A good-looking bachelor like Davis? Of course he does.”

“As far as I know, he hasn’t dated anyone since he came home from New York.”

Ivy’s jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me he hasn’t dated in two years?”

Sara shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

Ivy scooted to the edge of her seat, remembering the hot-and-cold game she and Mom used to play. Hot. She was getting very, very hot. “I don’t understand why he left. I mean, he’s amazing at photography and he just got that job with
Vogue
.”

Sara dropped the CD into the box. “It’s a long story.”

Something clicked like two puzzle pieces coming together—Sara’s blindness. Davis returning. “He came back to take care of you, didn’t he?” That sounded one hundred percent Davis. Only he would throw away his career and abandon his dreams for his beloved sister.

Sara’s fingers wrestled in her lap.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” Ivy said.

“Maybe you should ask him. It’s more his story than mine anymore.” Sara sighed. “He and I see my blindness differently. At least we do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thinks it’s an affliction. I’ve come to see some blessing in it.”

The words roused Ivy’s skepticism. “Blessing?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not easy. In fact, I have plenty of moments when I still hate it. There are times I miss seeing so badly that I don’t want to face a dark world one more day.” Sara pulled a rubber band onto her wrist and stretched it with her thumb. “But good has come out of it too.”

Ivy shook her head. What good could come out of Sara losing her eyesight? “I don’t understand.”

“Before, when I could see”—Sara stretched the rubber band farther—“I had everything planned out. I knew exactly where I was headed. After college, I’d spend some time in France. Study watercolor. Gain some experience and move back to Greenbrier. Rent the studio above an art gallery in Hilton Head and sell my pieces there. The owner already loved my work and promised to show it.” Sara recited her long-ago plans without inflection.

“But you lost all of that. Blindness stole everything.” Ivy failed to see the blessing.

“I know. I was angry for a long time. I lashed out and blamed a lot of people. I said a lot of hurtful things.” Sara’s brow wrinkled. “For the first time in my life, I wasn’t comfortable here anymore.”

“Here?”

“This world. I longed to see. I longed to paint. And then I realized …” Sara stopped stretching the rubber band.

Ivy scooted to the edge of the couch. What? What did she realize?

“This world was never meant to be comfortable. It was never meant to feel like home. It took darkness to show me truth.”

“What truth?”

“I will see again. One day, I’ll open my eyes and I’ll see Jesus. I’ll see my Savior.” Sara’s face radiated with a determination, an assurance Ivy had never seen before. “He’s saving my sight for that day. When I’m finally home.”

Goose bumps crawled up Ivy’s arms.
Home
. The word reverberated inside her like a giant gong, echoing in the empty places of her soul. Sara said that word with such conviction, as if she held it to her chest with a white-knuckled grip.

“It’s brought about other things too. Like starting to teach piano lessons. I never would have done that if I could see, which means I never would have met Twila—one of my students. I never would have considered becoming a music teacher either.” Sara set her hands on her knees. “And strangely enough, I see people better this way.”

“See people better?” How was that possible?

“The physical doesn’t get in the way.”

Sara’s face shone like the moon reflecting the sun. It radiated an assurance and a simplicity more beautiful than any pose or any look Ivy could ever give a camera. Somehow, Sara’s beauty worked from the inside out. Ivy nudged the box of music with her toe. She should be putting together a plan of attack, a strategy for getting Davis to New York. But her mind couldn’t focus. It kept repeating that one word—
home
. The kind of home Sara talked about was a home Ivy had never known.

23

Charlie’s Crab Hut overflowed with chatter and the smell of seafood, especially at the noon hour. Davis slid a saltshaker back and forth across the table, volleying it from palm to palm like a hockey puck. Sara gave her order to Becky-Sue Bruckle, who was working very hard to catch the dim lighting with her engagement ring.

Sara stopped midsentence and addressed him. “You okay?”

He sent the saltshaker sliding toward the pepper. It hit the wall, tottered, but remained standing. “I’m good.” This, of course, was a lie. He was tired. Last night the same two words hovered over his sleep—
see her
. He’d tossed and turned, his thoughts forming pictures in his mind, a whole photo album of Ivy Clark—broken Ivy at James’s funeral, untouchable Ivy at the luncheon afterward, tearful Ivy on the beach, hungry Ivy when she tried kissing him after the last photo shoot. Once he finished with the pictures, his thoughts turned to his camera, and right when he was on the cusp of sleep, they reeled him two years into the past like a kick to the groin, and the whole thing started all over again. He plucked a menu from the caddy. “I’ll take the shrimp and grits. Heavy on the gravy.”

Becky-Sue didn’t write anything down. “Got it. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As soon as she left, Sara spread her napkin on her lap. “Davis, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe a little tired.” He folded his hand on the table. “Now, do I flatter myself into thinking you simply wanted to eat lunch with your big brother, or is there something specific on the agenda?”

“Both.”

“Okay.”

Sara’s face lit up. “Ivy and I sat in Something New for almost two hours yesterday listening to Benny Goodman. Can you believe she’d never heard of him before? She thinks I made some really good choices for the fashion show.”

So Ivy was the agenda. Davis’s unease doubled. As much as he wanted to give Ivy the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was after something. That she had a reason for hanging around Greenbrier, one that was bigger than boredom or convenience.

“Do you know she’s walked in over fifty fashion shows? Can you believe that? She’s been to almost every place on the map. Russia. Tokyo. Australia. She thinks that if we do a good job getting the word out, this show could turn into something really big. Well, big for Greenbrier anyway.”

“Sara, you should be careful.”

She dipped her chin. “Be careful about what?”

“I don’t want you to get too attached to Ivy.” Sara loved too easily, gave her heart too readily. He didn’t want to see her get hurt. Especially not as a result of his photography.

“I like her.”

“She’s going to leave as soon as the show is over.” He grabbed the saltshaker again and resumed his volleying. “I think she’s after something—from me in particular.”