Page 94 of Dreams of Falling
For the first two weeks of Ivy’s life, Ceecee had slept on a cot in the nursery at Carrowmore, arising at every move and whimper the baby made, feeding her, changing her. When the baby was asleep, she’d leaned over the crib she and Bitty had selected and would rest her hand on Ivy’s back to make sure she was breathing.
Then Margaret hired a nanny and Ceecee went back to her childhood home as if nothing had changed. Except everything had. At least she no longer had to avoid Will Harris. He’d finally given up on herand married Emily Perkins, who was already expecting, judging by the loose dresses she wore to church each Sunday.
The only surprising thing about Ceecee’s life was that nobody could tell that she was an empty shell, a building that had imploded on the inside while the exterior had been left miraculously intact. She was able to smile and hold a conversation, clip flowers and put them together in beautiful arrangements. She could toss a baseball with her brothers, and sing in the church choir. But it was as if someone else were doing all these things. Though she was moving, she felt nothing. It was as if she were at the bottom of the ocean, trying to run underwater, her limbs slow and heavy while the world around her wavered through milky light.
Her mother would occasionally ask her how she was doing, would touch her arm and smile sympathetically. Although Ceecee had always known that her mother loved her, she had never been the demonstrative type. This was new to both of them, and it made Ceecee wonder if her mother, before she’d married Ceecee’s father, had known heartache and loss, feelings she’d long since buried, but remembered enough to offer solace to her only daughter.
Even Bitty had abandoned her. She was in her second year of college, studying art and education. She came home often to visit with Ceecee, although it wasn’t a hidden secret that her main goal was to see little Ivy. Margaret’s daughter had become the bright, shining light in all of their lives. Bitty and Ceecee had brought her into the world, which made them both feel protective if not a bit proprietary. But Ivy’s sunny nature, creative imagination, and inquisitive mind made her easy to love—and had made it equally difficult to understand Margaret’s apathy.
Bitty’s mother called it the baby blues, and that could have been most of it. Margaret said she loved her baby, just didn’t know how. Mrs. Purnell said that her loss of her parents had left Margaret hollowed out with grief. But Ceecee knew it was the opposite. The grief for Reggie had filled her, taking up all the empty spaces she might have used to love her baby girl. Grief was like that, Ceecee had learned. It either opened your heart or closed it.
At least for Ceecee, Ivy’s presence in her life was the thing that saved her. She hoped, for Margaret’s sake, that she would find something soon. Something to grasp and hold on to, something permanent and worthwhile like the love for her child. Ceecee refused to think of Margaret turning to Boyd for comfort. It was this thought that kept her awake most nights, leaving her to wallow in abject misery and self-pity.
Ceecee stopped in front of the doctor’s office and closed her umbrella. Despite leaden skies, the drizzle had stopped. She took off her rain cap and folded it neatly into her purse, surreptitiously finger-combing her hair so it wouldn’t look too flat. Clearing her throat, she approached the front door of the office and walked inside.
Since Boyd and Margaret’s wedding, she’d been seeing a doctor in Murrells Inlet for her frequent headaches and general fatigue, unwilling to risk the chance of running into Boyd. But today her father had taken the family sedan to visit a parishioner who lived out in the country, and Ceecee wasn’t sure she could wait another day to see a doctor about her sore throat and throbbing head.
She opened the frosted-glass front door in the old downtown building. The interior of dark wood and thick rugs hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been in to see Dr. Griffith, nor had the large mahogany reception desk in the corner or the framed diploma on the wall. She saw that there were two now—one with Boyd’s name on it, but she gave it only a cursory glance.
A middle-aged woman in a nurse’s cap whom she’d never seen before sat behind the desk and smiled brightly. “May I help you?”
“I have an appointment with Dr. Griffith,” Ceecee said, her raw throat hurting when she spoke.
The nurse smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry. The doctor had an emergency house call. But Dr. Madsen is in and can see you now.”
Ceecee started thinking of excuses, already retracing her steps, when a door that led to the back hallway and examining rooms opened and Boyd stepped into the reception area.
“Sessalee,” he said, his face registering surprise. “I didn’t know you had an appointment.”
“I don’t. I mean... I have an appointment with Dr. Griffith.”
“Dr. Griffith was called away, but you have half an hour before your next appointment, Dr. Madsen,” the nurse helpfully pointed out. “So you have time to see Miss Purnell now.”
“It’s just a sore throat. And a headache. It’s probably the weather. I’ll come back,” she said, half wanting him to agree.
“Of course not,” Boyd said, his eyes giving nothing away. “Let’s bring you back to the examining room and take a look at that throat. The headache could be the change in air pressure from Hurricane Hazel. Apparently, it’s caused quite a lot of damage in Haiti. It’s expected to stay out at sea, but we’ll definitely feel the effects here.” He glanced at his watch. “Actually, I’m closing the office early as a precautionary measure. I’ll be headed to the hospital to ride out the storm, but Margaret and Ivy are driving to Augusta to my mother’s sister’s just to be safe.” He considered her for a moment. “Why don’t you go with them? I know Margaret would love the company, and of course Ivy would love to have you along, too.”
It seemed so odd to be having this normal conversation with him about his wife and child when the entire time all Ceecee could think about was how she felt in Boyd’s arms, and how his presence in the same room seemed to take all the air from her lungs.
“Thank you, but no,” Ceecee managed, her voice cracking, and she was glad for the excuse of a sore throat. “I doubt the storm will amount to much.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you follow me, and we’ll get a look at your throat?”
“Will you be needing my assistance?” the nurse asked.
“No, that won’t be necessary. Miss Purnell and I are old friends.”
The woman frowned slightly, then went back to whatever paperwork she’d been busying herself with when Ceecee had entered.
Boyd led the way to the door, then indicated for her to proceed ahead of him down a short hallway. Instead of taking her to an examining room, he took her to Dr. Griffith’s office, and sat her down in the same chair she’d sat in when she’d been diagnosed with chicken pox as a little girl and the old doctor had given her a lollipop. Boydclosed the door behind him and sat in the chair next to Ceecee’s instead of behind the desk.
For a moment she thought he would reach for her hand, and she found herself relieved yet disappointed when he didn’t. Everything was half-measure with Boyd, her heart and head waging a never-ending battle over what she wanted and what she couldn’t have.
“How are you?” he asked, his eyes warm. “It’s been so long since we’ve talked—just you and me and not in a room full of people.”
When she didn’t respond, he pressed on. “I miss you, you know. I miss knowing how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine,” she lied, trying not to notice the way his hair fell over his forehead, not to remember the way it felt under her fingers.
