Take a Chance on Me(106)

Nan had turned away from her and was staring at the lake, only her tight profile visible for Ivy to read.

“I know you love Tiger, Nan. Of course you do. But do you want to raise Tiger, or do you just not want Darek to have him? Do you want to punish Darek or bless Tiger?”

“I think you should leave.”

Ivy sighed. This hadn’t gone at all how she’d hoped. Unless . . . “I love him too, Nan.”

Nan looked over her shoulder. “Darek?”

“And Tiger. I see a wounded boy who needs a mom—”

“He had a mom.”

“Yes, he did. But he doesn’t anymore.” She expected the flinch across Nan’s face but braced herself for it. “And you can’t be it. You’re the grandma, and that is a wonderful thing. But it will never be a mom. Please, let Tiger have a family.”

“You?”

“Maybe. Or someone else someday. Let Darek start over. Let him be the husband he should have been to Felicity.”

Nan sighed.

The day was still a tin-like gray, smoke thick in the air, nothing of the sunrise rescuing the shadows.

“He didn’t love her like he should have,” Nan said quietly. “She adored him.”

Ivy nodded.

“I’m just so angry all the time. It’s like a vise around my chest. It keeps me from thinking straight. I need to blame someone. Anyone.” She met Ivy’s eyes. “I want to blame Darek.”

“But the more you blame, the more your anger burns, the more it keeps you from seeing the blessings you still have. You have to stop blaming and forgive. Forgive Darek and Felicity and Jensen.” She took a breath. “Forgive me.”

Forgive me. She let the words hang there.

Nan frowned at her. “Why?”

Ivy swallowed. “Because I’m the one who arranged the plea agreement for Jensen.”

“I don’t understand,” Nan said, sinking into the opposite chair.

“It’s a long story, but I was the one who recommended Jensen be given the community service hours in exchange for a guilty plea.”

Nan just stared at her.

“You should know that while I feel great sadness for your loss, Jensen might have been exonerated if he went to trial. I’m not sure he was really guilty of negligence.”

Nan looked away. “Me either.”

“What?”

“I knew Jensen—of course, we all did. He was a great kid, straight A’s, a good athlete. I felt terrible for him when his parents split. I actually wanted Felicity to marry him . . . but . . . she loved Darek, and, well, she would do anything to get him. Including get pregnant.” She reached up, wiped her cheek. “I was so angry with her for her behavior, but she was so . . . so happy to marry Darek. And then Tiger came along and I thought everything would be fine . . .” She ran her thumb along the lid of her coffee cup. “I probably should give Darek a little more credit for all he’s been through.”

“Darek made his choices. But he’s trying, Nan. Really, if you could see him with Tiger, you’d know that the child is . . . active. And Darek is doing all he can to help his son grow up safe and healthy.”

Nan nodded. “Last night Tiger climbed on the table and leaped onto George’s back as he came in the door.”

Ivy chuckled.

Nan took a sip of her coffee. Cradled it in her hands. Overhead, the smoke had shifted some, just a hint of rose gold in the sky. “Okay. I’ll call Diane at a more decent hour and talk to her.”

Okay? Ivy hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “Thank you, Nan. I promise everything will be just fine.”

Funny how suddenly that line felt true.

Nan nodded. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Tiger?”

“Darek.”

Ivy shook her head. “Well, he’s pretty angry at me right now. I’m not sure—”

“Are you the assistant county attorney or not?” Nan smiled, something kind in her eyes. “For cryin’ in the sink, go win your case.”





When he woke up, Jensen smelled bacon, and from the kitchen he could hear the sounds of pots banging. It suggested the sense of family—or at least guests in his home.

He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, dressed in a pair of loose but clean jeans and a gray T-shirt. His mouth tasted of last night’s pizza as he rose and headed for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and tried to look presentable, unable to remember the last time he had guests. It had been so long that he’d forgotten, really, what it felt like to have people connected to his life.

Ruby, the Garden house manager, was in the kitchen, an apron tied around her waist, flipping pancakes. “Hello, young man. I hope I didn’t wake you.”