A Broken Kind of Beautiful by Katie Ganshert

words hurt her. Refused to let them matter. So what if her father hadn’t wanted her? Hundreds of other men had since then.
    “Please, Marshall, let’s not get into this tonight.” Eleanor put her hand on his arm. “Not on our anniversary.”
    “It was one thing to have her visit when James was living, but he’s dead. There’s no reason to have her here. Especially not under this roof. Do you know what people will say?”
    “I don’t care what people will say, Dad.”
    “I don’t understand this obsession you have with her. You are my daughter, and I will not stand by and watch you torture yourself.”
    “It isn’t an obsession.”
    Eleanor’s feet shuffled. “Please don’t get worked up, dear. Remember what Doc said about your heart.”
    So the old codger had a faulty heart. There was something to be said about karma.
    “My heart’s fine, El. And, Marilyn, of course it’s an obsession. You’re inviting painful memories inside to stay. Just like before. You refuse to keep the past in the past. James repented and wanted to forget, only you never let him. You insisted she come.”
    So it was Marilyn who arranged her summer visits. Ivy had always suspected, but this was the first time she’d heard those suspicions confirmed.
    “Dad, Ivy was part of James’s life, whether he chose her or not. She’s his daughter, for crying out loud. His daughter. I couldn’t let him ignore that.”
    “But James is no longer here. You did what you could. Now it’s time to drop it.”
    “I want her here.”
    “This is ridiculous. If you want her to model your dresses, then fine. Let her. We all know she’s gorgeous. But bringing her into your home? There’s no reason for that.”
    Marilyn sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
    “That girl does not belong in this house. I won’t have her influencing my grandchildren.”
    “Influencing your grandchildren? Dad, Davis and Sara aren’t little kids anymore. They are both adults and so am I. I’m sorry, but this is my house, and you’ll just have to respect my wishes.”
    “She’s not your daughter, sweetheart. As much as you might wish—”
    “That’s enough!” Marilyn’s sharp words slapped across Marshall’s baritone.
    Silence settled like an unwanted houseguest. Ivy could relate. She pressed her fist against her stomach. As a child, she had remained hidden, pretended not to hear. She wouldn’t pretend anymore. She wouldn’t run away. Maybe she’d take Marilyn up on the dinner invite after all and let Marshall boil in his awkwardness.
    She loosened her grip on the banister and walked down the stairs. “Marshall. Eleanor. I didn’t know I’d elicit so much heated discussion. And on your anniversary too.”
    Marshall’s eyes flickered toward the staircase. Eleanor’s mouth dropped open. Marilyn’s face whitened. “Ivy, I don’t know what you overhead, but—”
    She held up her hand to stop Marilyn’s apology, turned to Marshall, and addressed the severe set of his bushy eyebrows. “Congratulations on fifty-three years of marriage. Fidelity is a wonderful thing to celebrate.”
    He scowled.
    A smile spread across Ivy’s lips but stopped as a young woman walked into the room. Wispy blond hair. Ordinary face. Wrangler jeans. Simple T-shirt. Sara. Only she didn’t twirl and dance like Ivy remembered. She walked beside a yellow lab, clutching a leather harness strapped to the dog’s body.
    “Grandpa Marshall, Grandma Eleanor. Happy anniversary!” Her face lit up over the words, but not her eyes. They stared at nothing. Vacant. Unfocused. Ivy took a step back. What had happened to Sara?

    “Your sister is blind,” Ivy said, intercepting Davis as he came through the front door.
    Georgia yipped at Davis as he paused halfway over the doorstep. What kind of greeting was that? He ran his hand down the front of his shirt and stepped all the way inside. He couldn’t believe Ivy had actually accepted Marilyn’s invitation to the party.