Yuri stopped short when he encountered Harold standing on the porch. A few seconds later, the door opened again, and Ivy pushed her way out, a loaded suitcase in each hand.
“What are you doing?” Harold asked again. Ivy shouldered past him. “Come on, Yuri. Those boxes should go in first. There’s another stack in the kitchen that’s all ready to go. Bring them, too.” Obediently, Yuri shoved the boxes into a spot left in the back of the already loaded pickup. Then without a word to Harold, he turned and headed back into the house.
Ivy was short, stocky, and solidly built, an exact duplicate of her mother. After years of hard physical labor, of digging fence-post holes and wrestling stock, Ivy Patterson was far stronger than she looked.
She reached down and effortlessly tossed the suitcases into the bed of the truck. “Are you leaving?” Harold asked, unwilling to believe the evidence offered by his own eyes.
“You could say that,” Ivy answered. She didn’t look at him as she hurried past to retrieve the next stack of boxes Yuri was in the process of depositing on the front porch.
“But what’s happening? Where are you going?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“None of my business?” he echoed. “How can that be? I’m your father.”
“Well, pin a rose on you!” The cold bitterness in Ivy’s usually kind voice shocked Harold as much as if she had slapped his face.
“Ivy, please. I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Don’t bother. I already know. Burtie called and gave me the news.”
“He shouldn’t have done that.”
“Well, he did. And if you think I’m going to live here and share my home with that woman, you’re crazy.”
“But, Ivy, she’s your sister, and you have no idea what she’s been through. She’s had some bad luck, some really hard times.”
“Haven’t we all. Get the tarp, Yuri,” Ivy said, turning her back on her father. “I doubt it’s going to rain anymore, but we’ll lash it down just in case. That way, nothing will fly out of the truck once we hit the highway.” Together they spread the tarp over the load.
While Ivy began expertly tying it down, Harold limped over to the edge of the porch.
On either side of the top steps, framing the entrance to the porch, stood the knotted trunks of two huge wisteria vines. Harold had planted them himself when they were little more than twigs.
Those two vines had been Emily’s pride and joy, coming to the house with her when she first arrived as a bride.
He had always teased Em by telling her that those vines with their generous summer shade and sweet-smelling flowers were the best part of her dowry. In actual fact, they had been Emily Whitaker Patterson’s only dowry.
Slowly, struggling to steady his breath, Harold eased himself down against one of the trunks and looked up at the twining branches, leafless, now, and empty with the approach of winter. The twisted wood looked ancient, brittle, and felt as though a strong breeze would splinter it into a million pieces. Harold felt the same way.
“As soon as we unload this, we’ll come back for the horses. Natasha Robertson said Bimbo and Sam can stay on their place until I make other arrangements. They sure can’t stay with me at an apartment in town, and Yuri can look after them when I can’t.”
“Ivy, please listen to reason. You don’t have to leave home. It isn’t like that. You’ve got to understand.”
Handing the rest of the lashing process over to Yuri, Ivy Patterson stalked over to the bottom of the step. “What do I have to understand?”
“Why I’m doing what I’m doing. I have to talk to you. In private. I can’t say what I have to say in front of anyone else, anyone outside the family.
She eyed her father coldly. “Yuri is family,” she answered. “We’re going to be married as soon as we can make arrangements. Look.”
Ivy held up her left hand. Harold was astonished to see a ring where there had never been one before.
“Don’t you recognize it?” Ivy asked. “It’s Mother’s. The one she gave me before she died. On what little he makes, Yuri couldn’t afford to buy me a ring. It’s lucky I happened to have one.”
Harold Patterson was dumbfounded. “How can this be? How come I didn’t know anything about it?”
“Because you weren’t interested,” Ivy responded. “Because you were so wound up worrying about what was going to happen with Holly that you couldn’t see the nose on your face.”
Harold glanced at Yuri, who was standing by the truck. The Russian was looking up at them quizzically, his huge hands dangling awkwardly by his sides.
“But you haven’t known him very long, have you?” Harold objected. “How can you be……?”
“How long did you know Mother?” Ivy countered. “And I’m a lot older now than either of you were then. I’m forty years old. I’ve got a chance to grab some happiness before it’s too late, and I am by God taking it.”
“Does Burton know about this? Did you tell him anything about it?” Harold asked.
“No, I didn’t tell Burton. Why should I? This isn’t the old days, Pop. I don’t have to ask permission from every male relative before I make a decision. It’s my life. I’ve spent all these years putting other people first. Well, I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not going to do that anymore.”
“But what about the ranch? What about the Rocking P?”
“What about it?” she raged back at him. “Have Holly come take care of it.”
