“She’s good.” Charlie leaned his elbows on the table in a way that would have excited parental protests, had parents been present. “She simply senses when someone is ill or in pain.”
“Oh yes.” Mrs. Galais patted her belly. “A few years ago, Ivy knew I needed my gallbladder removed when I thought I had only mild indigestion.”
“It isn’t that unusual of a skill.” Ivy swirled a potato in a circle on her plate. “I could tell by the way you moved, the way you held yourself.”
“Dad always said it was a gift.” Charlie hefted his chin with brotherly pride. “You see beyond the seen.”
Fern tutted. “We’re embarrassing our Ivy. Tell me, Gerrit. What do you think of our island?”
“It’s lovely.” And the embarrassed, sensitive, talented healer sitting across from him was the loveliest sight of all.
chapter
14
St. Helier
Friday, January 8, 1943
Across Queen Street, Fern stood in a queue. Ivy angled her umbrella to shield her face, and she ducked down Halkett Place.
How childish to avoid her own sister, but she still smarted from Fern’s mean trick on Christmas Day.
Ivy shook out her umbrella and entered the Central Market, lit by windows in the peaked ceiling and enlivened by ornate Victorian ironwork and the hum of conversations. Dozens of vendors sold vegetables and other goods—what goods were available under German rule.
With a huff, Ivy strode through the main concourse.
Fern had lied to Charlie so he would invite Gerrit and Bernardus. She’d sent Ivy to fetch Mrs. Galais so Ivy would be away when the men arrived.
The Christmas dinner had been planned, not to show hospitality to the lonely, but to embarrass and antagonize Ivy.
Her eyes burned, and she blinked rapidly as she passed the fountain in the middle of the market. A fortnight had passed. Why couldn’t she forgive Fern as she always did?
Because shealwaysdid.
Fern often did little things to addle Ivy, crafted well-worded defenses, sometimes blamed Ivy—and Ivy had always forgiven her, excused her, absorbed the blame.
Ivy passed through the doorway on the far side of the market, lifted her umbrella, and stopped. The rain created a shimmering pattern on the streets, the ugliness of asphalt and potholes and gravel obscured by the loveliness of water.
Everyone praised Ivy for seeing things others didn’t, but she’d never let herself see the streak of meanness in Fern, obscured by beauty and cleverness and humor and efficiency and episodes of sacrificial generosity. But the meanness had always been there, and Ivy had ignored it in her quest for family harmony.
Heaviness pressed on her chest, and a sigh did nothing to dislodge it. She headed back toward Queen Street, minding her step with her worn-out shoes newly resoled in wood.
Spending Christmas with a man in a Todt uniform hurt far less than knowing Fern had orchestrated it as revenge for Ivy defying Fern’s authority.
Even that man in the Todt uniform had seemed to understand. He’d been anxious to leave, to not impose, to relieve her discomfort. Along with Thelma Galais’s cheerful diplomacy and Charlie’s righteous indignation, Gerrit’s consideration had soothed the sting somewhat.
Over and over, Gerrit’s actions spoke of a kindly nature, but kindliness with a spine. He’d been direct in defending his decision. Not that she agreed with him. His decision carried a hint of the mercenary, volunteering for safe and stimulating work, rather than being forced to do dangerous and unpleasant work.
Ivy turned onto Queen Street, one street away from where she’d seen Fern. Gerrit said Ivy wouldn’t know what she’d do unless she faced that choice. But she had faced that choice.
She opened the door to Carter’s Chemist’s.
No one was waiting to see Joan de Ferrers, and within minutes,Joan handed her a bottle. “Mr. Whistler’s digitalis. I understand he’s one of your patients, yes? You know where he lives.”
“Yes.” Ivy’s voice held steady, although she’d just received her first assignment for the ring since the Germans had rounded up two dozen escaped workers a month earlier. Apparently Mr. Whistler was sheltering an escapee in need of care. After exchanging pleasantries and shilling notes, Ivy departed the shop.
Two men in German Army uniforms strolled down Queen Street.
