Take a Chance on Me(86)

Ingrid kept holding her. Not shushing, not becoming uncomfortable with the tragedy of Ivy’s emotions, just holding her. As if Ivy belonged there after all.

So she closed her eyes and let herself feel Ingrid’s embrace, breathing it in. Just breathing.

She finally hiccuped back a breath and pulled away, pressing the dish towel to her eyes. She might even have a bit of a runny nose.

“Sorry,” she said, removing the towel.

Ingrid nodded, her eyes so much like Darek’s—blue, compassionate. She caught Ivy’s face in her hands, now dry, although a little cold and wrinkly. “No sorrys. You feel free to come and get a hug anytime. Or maybe I’ll just come after you with one.” She winked.

Ivy smiled, not sure what to do with that.

Ingrid turned back to the sink, running more hot water. Dumping in the hamburger serving platter.

Ivy stood there, wrung out.

“There you are.” Darek came in through the sliding-glass door. He held a jar of pickles, the bag of marshmallows. “Where’s Tiger? I wanted to show him the northern lights.”

“The northern lights are out?” Ingrid said, grabbing a towel.

“Isn’t he with you?” Ivy said at the same time.

Darek froze. Then he set down the pickles, the bag.

“I cleaned him up, and he went back out to the lake. I saw him—”

“He didn’t come back,” Darek said.

Ingrid set down the towel, said, “He was playing with Butterscotch. Maybe he’s with her.”

Darek disappeared out the door. “Tiger!”

Ivy ran after him into the yard, while Ingrid went out the front door. The air smelled thicker with smoke, but maybe that was just the campfire. In the darkness, the hover of orange flames on the far horizon seemed more ominous, as if Mordor might be just beyond the trees.

“Maybe he’s at the cabin,” Darek said and took off down the trail.

Casper and his sisters had come up from the fire—John also, carrying a flashlight. He handed it to Casper. “Check the other cabins.”

“I’ll see if he’s in Butter’s doghouse,” Grace said.

Amelia headed toward the lodge. John went around the back. Ivy could hear Tiger’s name called in the air.

How could she have lost Darek’s son? So much for fitting into the family.

If she ever needed fate to be on her side . . .

Or . . . You’re not a commodity to Him. You’re His precious child whom He loves.

Okay, if God loved her—really loved her—then . . . then He’d help her think.

Think.

Once, when she was about ten, she’d wandered away from her foster home, following a labyrinth of alleyways, dreaming up the families living inside the homes.

I’m going to have an ’venture, Tiger had said.

What was an adventure for a five-year-old? A motorcycle?

Or maybe . . . the dozer.

Where had Darek said he’d left it? On the old logging road around the property? She’d seen a rutted trail across the road from the parking lot when she drove in.

In the wan light, she headed toward the lot, hoping to find John, but it was empty. Still, she spied the trail and ran toward it, feeling the ruts of freshly churned-up dirt.

“Tiger!”

She didn’t want to think of what might happen if they didn’t find him, if they called in search and rescue. Especially with the CPS file sitting on Jodi’s desk.

Her career would be over. At least in Deep Haven. Worse, Darek might lose custody of his son.

But that all paled against the reality that in these woods . . . “Tiger!” She picked up her pace, saw the dozer in the distance, a dark hulk against the darkness.

She reached it, found her footing, and climbed up to the cab, yanking open the door. “Tiger?”

Empty. She stared into the darkness, her heart sinking, her breath catching up to her.

And then she heard the sniffles. She closed the door, climbed down. Listened.

They came from the front of the dozer, near the scoop. She moved around the side. “Tiger?”

There he sat, his hands scraped, a raw place on his skin where he’d scuffed it hard on something. She couldn’t see the full extent of his injuries, but he seemed more scared than hurt.

Ivy crouched next to him. “Are you okay, bud? We were so worried.”

“I fell.”

“I see that.” She took his hands. “We’ll get you cleaned up, make it all better.”

And then he launched himself into her arms. She held him there, rocking him. “It’s okay, buddy; we found you.”

His body was warm, his grip iron around her neck. She gripped him back just as tightly and stood, his legs going around her. Then she hiked down the trail carefully, feeling her way along the rutted surface.