Ivys fall, p.1
Ivy's Fall, page 1
IVY’S FALL
LINDA WINSTEAD JONES
Copyright © 2021 by Linda Winstead Jones
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover design by Elizabeth Wallace
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Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Linda Winstead Jones
CHAPTER 1
Ivy hated change with a passion, and these days that meant she was shit out of luck.
Mystic Springs was growing and changing day by day, bit by bit. Everyone but Ivy seemed to be happy about the shift, but then they were all getting married and having babies and starting new businesses. It was like life had been stalled, and now it was on the move again. For everyone but her.
There were only two empty spaces on Main Street, when not so long ago there had been more storefronts vacant than occupied. Fewer homes were for sale in her small town that was suddenly not quite as small as it had once been. For Sale signs had come down; lawns were mowed regularly. There was a sense of life that had been missing for a very long time, in the air and in the people all around her. For this school year, more kids had been enrolled in the K-12 school. She’d heard they’d had to hire two new teachers.
On occasion Ivy wondered if someone had managed to cast a spell on the sly, but all indications were that this was a completely natural shift in the makeup and atmosphere of the town. Natural. Bah!
Her twin, Eve, was not only married and disgustingly happy, but newly pregnant.
Quite a few Springers who’d moved away over the last several years had come back. Returnees included a candy maker, one of the new teachers, and a doctor, as well as a couple of retirees. Elaine Forrester’s niece Molly had come back in the middle of summer and had been renovating the bed and breakfast, which was due to reopen in a matter of weeks. Molly was a sweet girl, energetic and friendly and full of life, nothing at all like her old biddy aunt who’d tried to kill the new town librarian. After she’d killed the old one. Naturally Molly knew nothing of her aunt’s misdeeds. If she did she’d be shocked. It would break her naive heart.
It was hard to like Molly Duncan. She was everything Ivy Franklin was not.
A couple times a month two or three more people—not a Non-Springer among them—returned. With each new resident, it was as if the magic in the little town grew stronger. It was almost tangible, the sensation of magic, of power old and new. Ivy felt more and more out of sync with every day that passed; with every new resident or business. Once she’d truly belonged here. Now… she wasn’t so sure.
Was it too late to get on the bandwagon to cast a spell to isolate this town? That would stop the growth here and now. No one in, no one out…
She was tied to Mystic Springs by magic and by blood. Leaving town would break her. Right out of high school she’d given it a try. She’d moved to Georgia, where she’d attended college for a full year. It had been the worst year of her life, and that was saying something. She’d lost her mother at the age of thirteen, then her father less than ten months later. An aneurysm had claimed her mother. It had happened so fast, too fast. That entire year had been a nightmare. They said her father had a heart attack, but she’d always believed it had simply been broken by the loss of his wife. She still believed that.
You’d think in a town lousy with magic every resident would be blessed with good health and a long life. Sometimes that was the case, but for the most part Springers were just like ordinary people. They got sick, they had accidents, they suffered from devastating bouts of bad luck. Some had great genetics, others not so much.
She and Eve had never had to worry about a place to live, a roof over their heads and food on the table. An elderly aunt had taken them in and loved them with all her witch’s heart. That had been a terrible time, a hellish year, and still, her time away from Mystic Springs had been worse in some ways. Every day, a part of her had faded away. Every day, every hour, she’d felt… less. Smaller, weaker. She’d wasted away. Being apart from Eve had only made things worse. She might as well have cut off a limb and left it behind.
If she left town for good she’d not only lose her magic, she’d lose her twin. She’d lose Eve forever, because if she ever left she wouldn’t come back.
So here she stayed, always at loose ends, never satisfied with her life though she did her best to convince herself she was completely satisfied, thank you very much. As much as she hated to admit it, she was fading away as surely as she had when she’d left town all those years ago.
The door to her shop opened, and in walked Levi Redmon. Doctor Levi, some of his patients called him. He was in his early thirties, blond-haired and blue-eyed and ridiculously fit. Every morning before his office opened he jogged past her front window, making a loop through town. Show off. Every afternoon, usually after his lunch break, he stopped by her bakery for something sweet. Since her baked goods had no calories, he was in no danger of ruining his hard-won physique.
She wasn’t familiar with the Redmon family’s history; she wasn’t sure what his magic was, and she didn’t ask. Seems like there might’ve been a healer in his family a few generations ago, but she hadn’t seen any extraordinary powers from him as he treated his patients. He was a good doctor, at least he seemed to be, but there was nothing mystical in his methods.
As with many Springer families, the Redmons had mingled magics through marriage over the years. Even that didn’t mean anything. Some Springers possessed great magic; others just a touch. Even though Ivy’s gifts were a part of her, they only came alive when she was in the kitchen, baking. In spite of the growth of power in the town, she remained the same. A great baker who was able to produce decadent treats that would never cause those who consumed them to gain so much as an ounce. That was it. In the scheme of things, it didn’t seem like anything special.
Levi Redmon had already asked her on a date. Four times. She’d rebuffed him firmly each time. Asking for personal details about his family, his past, his magic, if he had any of consequence, might give him the wrong impression. She was not interested.
He smiled brilliantly as he ordered two cupcakes and a bear claw and placed the correct change on the counter. Oh, God, he had that look again. A little nervous, a little excited. His nose twitched. He was going to ask her out.
While everyone else in town seemed perfectly happy to pair up and reproduce, Ivy was having none of it. She’d been happy once, thank you very much, and it hadn’t ended well. Why tempt fate?
Sure enough, Redmon caught her eye over the counter. “Next weekend…”
Silas burst through the front door, red-faced and sweating even though the early October weather was temperate. Judge, the bloodhound, was at his heels.
“We dragged a man out of the river,” Silas said, directing the news to the town’s new doctor. “We’ve moved him to your office. Susan has a key, and to be honest I didn’t know what else to do with the poor guy. He’s in pretty bad shape.”
Levi followed Silas onto the street, where they both broke into a jog. Judge led the way.
Ivy breathed a sigh of relief as they disappeared from sight. Saved by the bell! Well, saved by the town dog-whisperer. Then she realized Levi had paid but not taken his purchases, which meant he’d be back.
It was hours later when her brother-in-law Travis, the town’s one and only lawman, walked into the bakery. He had a look of real concern on his face. That was odd for him. He was an even-tempered guy, hard to rattle, easy to read. It was rare to see him without a happy-go-lucky smile on his face. Eve, Ivy’s twin, was part of the reason he smiled so often.
He made his wife happy. She made him happy. Gag.
“Can you come to the doc’s office with me? You could close a little early, right?”
She often did. Her bakery was open when she felt like being here, closed when she did not. What now? Ivy knew there wasn’t anything wrong with Eve. If there was, she’d know it. She’d feel it.
“Why?” The question was blunt. Unfriendly, maybe, but she never beat around the bush. Some might call her blunt. She preferred the description direct.
“I’d like you to have a look at the fella that washed up on the riverbank this morning.”
“Again, why?”
Travis was obviously uncomfortable. It was a good thing he’d never be called on to go undercover, because every thought, every emotion, was clearly displayed on his pretty face. “I think I recognize the guy, but he’s in bad shape and it’s been a long time since I saw him.”
“If you can’t identify him what makes you think…” She stopped speaking suddenly, as a chill washed over her. It couldn’t be. Impossible. “Grant?”
Ivy didn’t move from her spot behind the counter. “That’s not possible. I took him to the edge of town and gave him enough amnesia punch to wipe Mystic Springs from the minds of a dozen men.” Not just Mystic Springs, but her. That had been the point, right? Allow him to follow his dream. Send the man she loved away so he could have the life he wanted and deserved. He’d worked so hard all his life. She wouldn’t…
“It’s been more than five years!” She snapped. Five years and four months, to be exact.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” Travis said. “Just… have a look.”
Still, she didn’t make a move. “Why don’t you just ask him his name?”
“He doesn’t remember anything right now.”
“Surely he has some kind of ID on him.”
“Nope.”
“Ask anyone!” Ivy snapped. “He’s a freaking star shortstop, any baseball fan can tell you…”
“His face is bruised and swollen so I can’t be sure,” Travis argued, “but there’s something about him that’s familiar. You knew him best. If anyone can identify him, it’s you.”
“Put out the word!” Ivy argued. “There are a dozen people in town who could identify Grant, if that’s who it is.” Bruised or not, battered beyond recognition? Her heart skipped a beat. Was it Grant? How badly was he injured? Was he… dead or dying? She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see him that way. “Find someone else.” Please.
“I’m trying to keep this low profile, if I can,” Travis said. “The man, whoever he is, he didn’t just fall out of a boat or slip and fall off a bridge upriver.” He sighed, indicating that this entire situation was a big pain in his ass. “He was shot.”
Ivy refused to run, but her heart was beating a mile a minute. As she walked quickly down the sidewalk toward the new doctor’s office, which was just past the grocery store, she developed tunnel vision. Nothing existed but the path directly ahead. Everything to the side was gray, indistinct. Travis was talking, but she couldn’t understand a word he said. It was all gibberish.
Grant Whitlock had stumbled into Mystic Springs on a particularly warm May day more than five years ago. He’d gotten lost and taken a wrong turn. That didn’t happen often, and when it did there was usually a reason. Non-Springers didn’t end up in Mystic Springs accidentally. If they found their way in, they were meant to be here. After a week, Ivy had convinced herself that Grant’s reason for being here was her.
He’d graduated from Vanderbilt, played triple-A ball for a couple of years, and after a minor injury had been summarily cut from the team. The club had recruited a bevy of young talent, new blood, and had let a few of those who’d been around more than a year loose. Grant’s injury had been the straw that broke the camel’s back, to hear him tell it.
After a lifetime of a focus on baseball, when it was gone he’d felt at loose ends. Rudderless. Not knowing what might come next, he hit the road. A road trip to clear his head, he’d said, to take time to think about what might come next for him. The road had led him to Mystic Springs. To her.
She’d never known anyone like him, had never imagined that any man could make her feel the way he did. Grant had made her laugh. Even as a child, she hadn’t been one to laugh often. She wasn’t easily entertained. Eve had laughed and smiled enough for both of them.
Grant had sauntered into her bakery looking for something sweet, and instead he’d found her. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, that would be proof. He’d been wandering, but once he’d found her he’d stayed. They’d been drawn together quickly and completely, and she had to admit, the sex had been stellar. She’d fallen in love. So had he. That love was everything she’d ever dreamed love could be; it was perfection. She’d been deliriously happy, for a while. They’d been together for a little more than a month. If she really wanted to torture herself she could count the days.
A lot had happened during those days…
Then he’d gotten the call. A different AAA team was in need of a shortstop thanks to a few injuries of their own. One of the assistant coaches had been at Vanderbilt and remembered Grant. This coach had been impressed by Grant’s abilities, and assured him there was a strong possibility he’d be in the Major Leagues by the following year, maybe even in September if he did the work and luck was on his side. It had to happen fast; Grant was expected to report to his new team in a matter of days.
He’d been over the moon; he’d asked her to go with him.
She’d said no.
It had broken her heart, but after her year in college she’d realized she could never leave Mystic Springs. It was home. It was a part of her body and soul. Without this blessed or cursed place, she had no magic. Maybe she wasn’t a powerful witch. She couldn’t make it snow like Jordan, or help people realize what they needed like the Benedicts. She didn’t change with the moon or like Clint Maxwell shift into a powerful creature whenever the spirit moved him. She didn’t control fire or water, or talk to animals, or cast powerful spells.
Still, without her magic, unimpressive as it was, she was nothing.
Grant had told her he didn’t need baseball, that he’d turn down the offer and stay with her. There was no guarantee of success in his sport, he knew that. He could wash out in a matter of weeks, months, maybe a year or two. Making it to the Major Leagues was still nothing more than a dream.
Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.
He’d believed those words as he’d spoken them, she’d seen that much. She’d also seen the heartbreak that came with the death of a lifelong dream. Maybe success wasn’t guaranteed, but not to even try…
She’d lied to him and told him she’d changed her mind; she’d go with him. Anywhere, any time. All she asked for was a couple of days to get things in order, to say goodbye to her twin.
Was it coincidence that the call had come so soon after they’d done something incredibly impulsive? Only two very young, idealistic people could’ve been so foolish. She tried not to think about that night, tried not to dwell on what ifs.
He’d agreed to her two days, and they’d spent them well. She’d made love to him at every opportunity; she’d searched her heart for answers she knew she wouldn’t find. And when the time came she’d made love to him one last time, driven him to the edge of town, and given him a healthy dose of amnesia punch.
Grant Whitlock had not washed out, after all. He’d gone on to have an impressive career, at least until he’d been injured again last year, late in the season.
As she’d watched him leave, she’d been sure another man would come along, that she’d find what she’d had with Grant with someone else. Next time she’d be sure to fall for a Springer, someone who would truly understand her and why Mystic Springs was so important to her. She’d almost convinced herself that Grant had just been a chapter in her life, not the entire story, and she’d soon be able to move on. But that had never happened. She’d lost a part of herself when she’d sent him away.
Five plus years was a long time. She’d been little more than a child, when she and Grant had been together. Her bakery had been opened less than six months, and she’d made her home on the second floor, in a small apartment. She’d made her life in that building, upstairs at night, downstairs during the day. Grant was a couple of years older than she, but back then had he been more than a child himself? Not by much. He’d stayed with her in that room above the bakery, for a while. The space had been too small for one, much less for two, but neither of them had cared. Does anyone love as enthusiastically as the young? She thought not.
Redmon’s office wasn’t often busy. The people of Mystic Springs were healthy, for the most part. There were exceptions, of course. Her parents; Clint’s, too. But the elderly needed some extra attention, and there was the occasional broken bone or mysterious rash. And of course, pregnancies. So many pregnancies…
