Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

 Ivy viewed herself as selfish and
cowardly to run away, but her life had changed so radically in the past year,
culminating in the shooting at the Portland house.  She needed time alone
to regroup.  Even though most of those life-changing events were positive,
altogether on top of the accumulated years of work pressures, she had reached a
point where a complete breakdown was inevitable.  Her nervous system was
short-circuiting.  She did not want to leave Steve or Mathew.  She
wanted Harry, Cleo and Druid with her for comfort.  Still, she had to be
practical.  For her own safety, she would need to travel incognito and
change locations frequently.  Her three little protectors would have to
stay at Spook Hills.

Once she decided what her undercover
appearance would be, she had photos taken, Steve arranged an alternate set of
IDs through the Chief at the Bureau that were overnighted to her.  She
crammed her hair under a short fluffy silver wig, wore a different style of
glasses and packed only casual clothes -- all things she could leave on a
moment's notice and be Ivy Littleton again.  Her new name was Anna S.
Foley from Boothbay Harbor, Maine.  The "Anna" was her middle
name, the "S" stood for Stephanie, the female version of Steve, and
the "Foley" was her grandmother's maiden name on her mother's
side.  The familiarity of the names comforted her.  Steve hoped they
were not too traceable.

Leaving Steve at the downtown hotel
when he dropped her off was the hardest thing Ivy had ever done.  That
tough man had tears streaming down his face and she could only give him a hug
and one last kiss.  If she let her own tears start, she was afraid they
would be unstoppable.  To be any good for him again, she had to retreat
like a battered female fox going underground to lick and heal her wounds. 
She forced herself to walk away and then exited through the front of the big
hotel, found a taxi and went out to the airport. 

She had a new debit card and two new
credit cards as Anna S. Foley.  Steve funded an account in her new name
via a trail of other accounts he set up at various banks under an old false
identity that he had kept when he left the Bureau.  Mathew coached her on
how to check for being tailed, how to lose a tail, where to go for safety, like
a police station, and to always map out where the next one was.  She had a
new cell phone, a new laptop and a new iPad that Steve ordered for her. 
Steve bought a new iPhone with a new number for himself that Ivy was to use
instead of the old one.  She left with only a small rolling duffel bag, a
light expandable briefcase, and her purse.  In her jeans, tee shirt,
windbreaker and walking shoes, Ivy had the appearance of any other newly minted
retiree off to see the world. 

Steve slumped in a deck chair outside
their trailer at the vineyard, staring vacantly up at the house construction
site.  With Ivy's departure, the light she had given him went with
her.  His emptiness was worse now from having his life so illuminated. 
Without the glow that she cast, everything around him was dull as if thickly
tarnished.  Steve knew she had to make a change to get relief from the
life-threatening trauma that he had brought to her.  He recalled how
lovely, vivacious and spunky she had been and however unintentionally, he had
made her into a shadow of herself.  Her lively spirit that challenged him
had disappeared.

He was thankful that Brian agreed to
be her secret protector.  Since that first traumatic experience against
Matka last fall, he was becoming skilled at disguises.  Steve wished Ivy
had let him go with her.  He believed she blamed him.  She became
remote and then left him downtown, not shedding a single tear.  He felt so
guilty -- he had driven her from her home and her life.  She had to leave
behind her dogs and her cat, as well as her clothes and identity.  The
only hope Steve held onto was that she had taken her engagement ring, strung on
two gold chains around her neck and tucked out of sight.  A small part of
him clung to the belief that its closeness to her heart would bring her back to
him.  While Mathew insisted that they continue work on the house, it
seemed a feeble task with her gone.  Never had he been so bereft, not even
after his parents died.  How would he go on without Ivy?

That same afternoon, Mathew was
working at the construction site and thinking.  He had to burn off some
frustration with Steve or his temper would get the best of him.  Steve was
driving him so crazy, he could take the tractor and send it right off the
hillside with Steve on it.   In the days since Ivy left, he had
folded up.  He showed no interest in anything -- not the house, not the
vineyard, not even food.  Almost overnight, Steve had become an old
man.  It was beyond Mathew's comprehension.  Less than a year ago,
Steve worked extremely long hours on challenging cases, and while he was always
demanding, sometimes crotchety and occasionally impatient, never did he buckle
under pressure.  Steve had to appreciate that Ivy's love of him would compel
her to come back.  How could he have so little faith in what she felt for
him? 

Mathew used to think he was important
to Steve.  Here he was, trying to start a new business, struggling against
a steep learning curve, dodging bullets for chrissakes, worrying about the next
attack, taking over building a house, and Steve picked this time to stop
contributing.   What about me, Steve?  Remember me?  Your
almost son? 

He was digging the footing for a
retaining wall on the slope behind the house.  The local soil was called
Decaan
Basalt and was high in iron oxide which glowed a
deep brick red in the sun as he turned it over.  He dug hard in his
frustration even though his muscles protested.  Maybe the truth lay
deeper.  Maybe the issue was not only Steve.  Perhaps it was also
within himself.  He had that same sense of abandonment as when his parents
flew off to different parts of the world, leaving him to wander through their
big, empty house with only a housekeeper for company.  Ivy was gone. 
Steve was not there for him.  They were in their own worlds and here
Mathew was, reduced again to the little boy left alone at home.  Well damn
it, this time he was not staying silent.  Steve was going to hear about
the impact he was having.  Mathew stopped to catch his breath, leaning on
the shovel.  At least dealing with his emotions had the digging job almost
done. 

Was this core loss from his childhood
ever going to let him grow into the man he wanted to be?  
Manet
Cicatrix
,
The Scar
Remains.  He went back to digging.  He had to trust that Ivy would
return.  He had to believe that kind of love existed.  What would Ivy
do if she were here?  Mathew thought about the two times he had seen her
angry -- the time she and Steve argued over the mission in the Caribbean and
the time right after that when she sent him out of the kitchen with a kick in
the butt.  The same image came to mind.  Ivy standing, hands on her
hips, and speaking in a harsh tone that was so unlike her.  Each time she
brought Steve or him to reason.  Mathew guessed that every now and then,
each of them needed a hit on the back of the head to move along on their
journeys.

Maybe this was his time to do that for
Steve.  He had to believe that Ivy would come back to him.  Mere
bullets could not tear their great love apart.   Steve had to realize
that Mathew mattered too.  While he could give this time away to Ivy to
grapple with her fears, he needed Steve contributing at Spook Hills.  He
threw down the shovel and stomped from the jobsite down to the trailers. 
The digging made him hot; he pulled off his chambray shirt as he strode along
and wiped the sweat off his face with it, streaking the pale blue shirt with
the damp red soil.  Steve was sitting outside, not moving.  Mathew
stopped and stood in front of him.  Steve slowly looked up.

"Enough."  Mathew said,
striving to remain calm.  "Ivy will come back.  You have to
realize that."

Steve went back to staring at the
ground and shook his head. 

Mathew could feel his temper
rising.  "Damn it.  This is about believing.  Remember
believing?"

"She is gone.  I did this to
her.  Me.  I brought the danger into her life."

"Ivy needs time.  Get that
in your stubborn head.  She loves you.  She became overwhelmed. 
She was scared."

"She doesn't call.  She said
not to call her.  I email every day, but only every few days, when she
changes cities, do I receive a short email that she left the last one."

  "Get over it.  She
loves you." 

Steve gazed off into the distance,
still shaking his head.

"For the more immediate issue --
remember our partnership?"

Steve gazed at him without interest.

"Damn it.  We are in this
vineyard together.  You have a house to build for Ivy for when she
returns.  What the hell is wrong with you?  You told me that I am
like a son to you.  I matter, Steve.  I am trying to get this
vineyard going and keep your house on track.  I can't do it all. 
Maybe you don't need me, but I sure as hell need you." 

Mathew threw down his shirt and
stomped back up the hill.  Having no reaction from Steve was far worse
that having him become angry.  He was mad and unhappy that he failed to
get through to Steve and worse, he was unsure what to do next.

***

Ivy stood at the rail on the Bar
Harbor ferry crossing Frenchman Bay to Winter Harbor, Maine.  Even though
she cared little about where she went, she hoped that new experiences would
refresh her senses.  The day was cloudy with a stiff breeze coming off the
steely gray of the Atlantic Ocean.  As the white boat intrepidly moved
towards the distant shore, small waves hit its bow, giving off a stiff
spray.  She barely noticed the movement, lost as she was thinking over the
weeks since leaving Steve.

She had plotted her initial course
that first day by getting on a plane to Salt Lake City.  From there, she
bought a ticket to San Francisco and stayed at a Kimpton hotel she had used
years before when traveling on business.  For two days she hid in her
room, ordering from room service and either staring mindlessly or crying. 
On the third day she left her room and walked out of the hotel to buy a second
pair of walking shoes.  After three nights she checked out, rented a car
and drove up to Sonoma, choosing lodging at random.  From there she drove
to Sacramento, stayed a couple of days in a modest hotel downtown and flew in
two hops to Phoenix, using different airlines, and then drove up to Sedona
where she stayed at a resort, taking the smallest of their rooms.

Every day for that first week, she
cried for hours until she was drained of emotion.  She spent a week in the
Sedona area, going out occasionally to sit and stare at the rock
formations.  That second week she was so tired that she slept more than
she was awake.  She napped for a few hours during the day and slept 8, 10,
12 hours at night.  At the end of the week in Sedona, she flew to Boston
and drove up the coast of Maine, stopping at two different inns as she went,
winding up in Bar Harbor at the end of the week, which was where she was now,
still sleeping long hours.  She only ventured out to walk the short sand
beach near her inn or to sit on the rocks above the coast.  One day she
drove up Cadillac Mountain, blending in with the other tourists.  She
wandered around, bought a coke and drove back to the inn where she was
staying. 

She sent a short secure email to Steve
after she left each town.  She was too drained to do more.  While she
felt rotten to be so uncommunicative, she had to rebuild herself in her own
way.  Every day Steve sent her a secure email, full of tender thoughts. 

She saw a man she thought was Brian a
couple of times.  Having a highly skilled FBI agent trailing her gave her
comfort.  He would be reporting to Steve every day about where she was and
what she did.  Steve needed that lifeline to her, in the same way she
needed one to him.  However, only she could rebuild her inner
strength.  If she failed, then Steve would be better off without
her.  She could not tie him to a shattered shell.  If she could not
come back to herself, then she had to find the strength to end their engagement.

***

Steve watched Mathew go off up the
hill.  He had never lost patience with him like that before.  Mathew
was working double shifts between the vineyard and the house, keeping the
vineyard workers and the builder's crew organized.  One of the workers was
a young Hispanic fellow named Fred, short for Federico, who followed Mathew
around like a lost kid eager to find his place in the world.  Even he had
noticed how badly off Steve was.  He overheard a comment Fred made to
Mathew that "Big boss, he no happy.  Better he drive tractor. 
Wreck things."

Steve wanted to believe that Mathew
was right.  He must not give up hope about Ivy coming back to him. 
Maybe the time for that would be when she did not come back.  Brian
reported in daily with details about her solitary wanderings, although at the
beginning she disappeared inside her hotel rooms for days at a time.  Only
trays of food appearing at the door or left outside mostly uneaten indicated
she was there.  Now she had flown to Maine and was staying in Bar
Harbor.  Brian was seeing her more, sitting on the cliffs, staring at the
ocean or walking the beach in town.  Steve wanted to fly to be with her
even though he knew if she needed him, she would call.  Did she detest him
for the danger he had put her in?   Was she afraid of him as well as
the perps?  What else could explain her long silences?

Again Steve told himself that Mathew
was right.  He must not despair.  He must put his head into building
their house for when Ivy returned.  He would put in every security gadget
available -- cameras, alarms, motion detectors, sound surveillance inside and
out -- anything to help her feel protected.  Above all Steve wanted to
make it an "Ivy home".   What was it Mathew had said once
about her Portland house?  Ah yes, the expression he used was "
Utile
Dolci
" -- combining the useful with the
agreeable.  Steve decided to decorate the little balcony off the master
with metal railings designed like twining ivy and think up other embellishments
that would delight her. 

He stood, picked up Mathew's shirt,
shook it out, folded it neatly and turned to walk up to the house construction
site.  He would take Mathew into Dundee that night so they could talk over
dinner and update their plans.  He would have him order a great bottle of
wine and they would have steak.  Mathew always enjoyed a perfectly cooked
steak.  He smiled a little remembering the steak dinner the day they left
the Bureau.  That steak was so full of flavor and tender.  When Ivy
returns, he would take the three of them to the same place again.

As Steve recalled what Mathew said
about needing him as a partner and as a friend, some warmth seeped back into
him.   They had been a team for some time now.  Mathew had never
let him down.  He had believe that long term, Ivy would never let him down
either.

"Get it in gear, Nielsen,"
he muttered to himself as he trudged up the hill.  "You must have
faith.  What kind of pathetic old man have you become not to believe in
the most enchanting woman you ever met?  You must believe that Ivy will
come back to Spook Hills, back to her new home and back to you."

***

After five empty days in Bar Harbor,
Ivy drove the expressway down to Boston and flew to London, registering at a
small hotel where she had stayed several times before.  From there, she
rented a car, drove down to Cornwall and sat by the sea, thinking of all those
Rosamunde
Pilcher
novels she had
read long ago with her simplistic approach to romance.  No one snuck
around her corners of Cornwall shooting with intent to kill.  The aura of
Pilcher's
ghost would have to be her protection on the
rocky coast with its dramatic cliffs and hidden sandy beaches. 

Following three days in Cornwall with
its summer weather turning hot, on her birthday of June 15th, Ivy drove back to
Heathrow, turned in the rental car, took the train into the city, and stayed
overnight in a trendy hotel.  The next morning, she checked out and took
an early train to Edinburgh, surprising herself by enjoying a hearty Scottish
breakfast in the dining car.  As she savored the simple tastes of thick,
ham-like bacon and English-style scrambled eggs, she realized her appetite was
coming back.  More than that, she wanted Steve.  She could envision
him sitting with her on the train, sharing what should be a vacation adventure
with him.