Deep Down (Lockhart Brothers #1) (5 page)

Miss Byerly closed the door to her classroom and gestured to her small metal desk.

“I’ll pull up a chair and we can have lunch at my desk if that’s okay. I’ve got a chicken salad sandwich and homemade cookies, and I have plenty to share.”

“Okay. Thank you, Miss Byerly.”

“Call me April unless we’re in class.”

April Byerly was a young teacher with long curly brown hair and a pretty smile. I’d heard she dated Mr. Schultz, the teacher who was rumored to be the father of my baby. My cheeks burned as I remembered hearing the girls laughing about it in the bathroom.

I sat down in the chair April had pulled up to one side of her desk.

“Um, you know . . . I mean, I want to say that I’ve never even spoken to Mr. Schultz. People are saying that he and I . . . that’s only a rumor and I have no idea how it started.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile and passed me half of her sandwich.

“I didn’t give it a second thought, Ivy. Matt and I went out a couple times earlier this year, but it wasn’t a love connection for either of us. I know he’s a good guy, though. He wouldn’t abuse the teacher-student relationship in any way.”

“Good. I’m glad you know that. And . . . are you sure you have room for me at your place?”

“I’ve got a guest room in need of a guest. So, have you been to the doctor yet? And are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

“No. I’m doing my best to eat healthy. No soda or anything like that.”

“We’ll stop for vitamins on the way home later. And I can set up a doctor appointment for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not asking anything specific here, Ivy, so don’t take this that way. Is the baby’s father part of your life?”

I shook my head adamantly. “I’m on my own now. It’s just me.”

April opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.

“What is it?” I asked.

She sighed and bit her lip, looking unsure. “I don’t want to overstep. I just want to make sure you know you’ve got options. If money is an issue—”

“Do you mean abortion?”

She gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “I know this is a difficult, overwhelming time for you. I don’t want to make it worse. But do what’s best for you, Ivy. No one but you knows what that is. Maybe you aren’t even sure right now.”

“I got a full scholarship to Stanford,” I said softly. “You’re the only person I’ve told about that.”

April’s face broke into an excited grin.

“Ivy! What an accomplishment. That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Thanks. Please don’t tell anyone, because I’m turning it down.”

Her happy expression morphed into one of concern. “You don’t have to decide that right now. Take some time—”

“I already know. I can’t take a baby to Stanford. There’s no way.”

April brushed the crumbs from her hands and passed me a chocolate chip cookie. “You have options, though.”

I smiled, grateful to be talking about this with someone. “Before my mom had me, she had two miscarriages. When she was so sick and the doctors said she might not make it, she . . .” I cleared my throat, the image of my mom in the hospital bed still bringing me to tears. “She got this warm, happy look in her eyes when I was holding her hand and she said she knew it was the end. That she loved me and wanted to stay with me, but it wasn’t meant to be. And that she’d finally get to meet her other two babies.”

“Oh, Ivy.” Tears shone in April’s eyes, too.

“She loved those babies. And I love mine. I don’t judge people who make other decisions but, for me, there is no decision. I wasn’t planning on being a parent yet, but I’m going to be, and I’ll never be a parent who hurts my child.”

April sighed deeply. “My heart feels heavy, Ivy. I know enough about you to know something’s not right. Don’t be afraid to speak the truth. No matter what, no matter who.”

“I just want to move forward. And you’re helping me do that.”

We switched to lighter talk about music and the weather. But in the back of my mind, I was still thinking about our earlier conversation.

As much as I wanted my dad to answer for what he did, I couldn’t expose myself to the shame of everyone knowing the truth. Only he and I knew what had happened between us, and only I knew about the pregnancy. And I planned to keep it that way.

AFTER MOVING IN WITH
April, I found my way out from under the dark cloud I’d been living under. I could sleep peacefully at night. I still had the dreams, but they rarely woke me up. Her tiny guest room with a single bed and desk was my little slice of heaven. I was safe there.

I’d left my dad a one line note telling him I was moving out. I put my cell phone next to the note with all the contacts deleted, both because I no longer wanted the phone he was paying for and because I didn’t want him to have a way to reach me.

April would always greet me with a good morning when I wandered into her kitchen after my shower. She’d ask me how my day was shaping up and we’d talk about hers. We’d watch movies and go grocery shopping together. She went to my doctor’s appointments with me and she was an amazing support. Having her in my life had helped me banish the thought of walking off a cliff.

Even school felt survivable now. I had lunch in April’s classroom every day, rode home with her after school and brushed off the rumors that I’d moved in with her because of our lesbian relationship.

My only invite to prom was from an asshole on the football team who asked in the middle of English class if I’d go with him so he could get laid with no fear of getting me pregnant. I was just two months away from graduation, and though I told myself I could get through anything at this point, the snickers from people whom I used to think were friends still burned.

For prom night, April and I wore the circa-1985 taffeta gowns we’d bought from a secondhand store. She gave me a teased side ponytail and I gave her spiky bangs. We put on frosty pink lipstick and dark blue eyeshadow, posed for pictures in her living room and then watched
Pretty in Pink.

“This is better than my actual prom was,” she said, arching her brows and nodding seriously.

I burst out laughing. “It’s hard to take you seriously with your bangs five inches in the air.”

“I wish I’d grown up in the eighties. My prom was in 2005 and it was all about how much skin the girls could show.”

“What was your dress like?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Uh . . . I wore a strapless blue dress.”

“Sounds modest.” I elbowed her as we both laughed.

She tipped the fancy bottle of sparkling apple juice we were sharing and took a swig, passing it to me.

“I was supposed to have sex for the first time tonight,” I said, clutching the bottle as I thought about the prom night that wasn’t meant to be. “With Levi.”

“I’m sorry,” April said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got that sad look in your eyes again.”

“Sometimes things don’t go as planned.” I smiled weakly.

“So true. I wish I hadn’t gotten the Seattle job now. I’d really like to be here to help you and the baby. Are you sure you won’t consider moving with me?”

I shook my head. April had found out last week that she’d gotten a job she’d interviewed for a month ago and figured she was a long shot for. It was a great opportunity for her but it meant she was moving at the end of the school year.

Which meant I was moving, too.

“I want to start over somewhere new,” I said. “I’m twenty percent scared and eighty percent excited about it.”

“Well, you’re one hundred percent amazing, Ivy. You’ve got more strength than a lot of people twice your age. And maybe you’ll meet your Blane in this new place.”

I smiled at her reference to the movie we’d just watched. “That’s not what I want. I just want a quiet place where I can raise my baby and be anonymous.”

“If anyone deserves to find that place, it’s you.”

I SET OFF IN
search of my new place the morning after graduation. I’d walked across the stage, which hadn’t been all that scary since April was the one standing next to the principal handing out diplomas. I’d kept a hand on my slightly rounded belly and my eyes on April the entire time. My gut told me my father wasn’t watching the graduation ceremony from the football stadium’s bleachers, and I didn’t have any other family to speak of.

April had taken me out to dinner after the ceremony and given me the keys to her 2007 Honda Accord, telling me it was mine now. We’d gone back and forth for several minutes—me crying while saying I couldn’t accept it and her saying I had to. I’d been planning to take the bus out of town. A car of my own that was a tangible reminder of April changed my feelings about the trip. Now I was fifty percent scared and fifty percent excited.

We both cried while saying our goodbyes. April tearfully assured me she was going shopping that day for a car fit for a single Seattle woman.

“I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me,” I said, holding her close.

“I’ve loved having you here, Ivy. I told you my guest room needed a guest, and you were the perfect one.”

“I’m not talking about the room.” I burst into tears again.

“Alright, you,” she said, pulling away and wiping my tears away with her thumb. “Go find where you’re meant to be. And let me know when you get there.”

“I don’t have a phone anymore, and I can’t afford one.”

“Find a payphone. Borrow someone’s phone. Go to the library and email me from a computer. You stay in touch with me, Ivy. I mean it.”

“I will.” I covered my red, swollen eyes with my sunglasses and got into the car.

Seeing April waving goodbye made me cry some more, but once she was out of sight, I turned on some music and let the sense of freedom wash over me.

This was the most exciting thing I’d ever done. No map and no plan. I was just driving and I planned to stop when I found a place that seemed right. Leaving Lexington behind was a physical relief. I hoped the shame and bad memories wouldn’t follow me.

I stopped in Indiana to fill up with gas and get something to eat and by afternoon I was in Illinois. The roads weren’t busy and I just kept driving, putting Lexington well and truly in my rear view mirror. When I crossed into Missouri I was surprised at how many miles I had traveled and I was tired, but I felt good. The sun was just starting to go down and I was keeping my eyes open in hopes of coming across a cheap motel for the night. And then, as if by providence, a road sign caught my eye.

Lovely—14 miles

A town called Lovely? I’d never heard of the place but I was intrigued enough to investigate. When I reached the turn-off, I followed the signs directing me to “Beautiful Downtown Lovely.” The downtown was built on a square and brick streets surrounded the square’s center, which had bright green grass, colorful flowers and a wooden gazebo.

It was quaint and charming. Nice. But was it my future home? I pulled into a parking place and considered my options. I could always find a motel here and explore Lovely tomorrow. Movement near a flower basket that was hung on an old-fashioned black iron light post caught my eye. A bright blue butterfly landed on the greenery.

My breath caught in my chest. My mom had loved butterflies. This was the sign I needed. I determined right then and there that I’d try to make a life for me and my baby right here—in Lovely, Missouri.