The Daisy (Carter Sisters Series Book 3)

by Morgan Dawson

  Adeline’s laughing stops, and I watch August look toward the door as if there might be a way out. But I’ve learned there isn’t a way out. You run around and around in circles like a blind mouse searching for the safest exit. But there never is one.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Adeline stands and moves to pull me up into a hug. “Oh, Genevieve. I’m sorry I laughed. I didn’t realize how troubled you were about all of this. You know, I’m sure Ma wouldn’t be too upset. Within the next few years you, Lydia, and Hazel will all be moving out and I know Ma wouldn’t want him to be all alone.”

  I smile a little as she pulls away smiling. “And you know, Pa misses her every day. I’m sure of it.”

  “How can you be sure of it?”

  “He locked himself in his room for a month after she died, remember? Boy was I mad at him.” She chuckles, sitting back down. “Maybe you should talk with Pa about it? I’m sure he’d feel terrible knowing these thoughts are keeping you up at night.”

  I sigh, looking up at her. “I don’t know. It’s hard to get alone with him now. Freida is constantly following us around. At least when you wanted to get away from Pa, you didn’t have people following you. She decided this morning she’d walk with me to the chicken coop. All I wanted was to be alone.”

  “Genevieve, look at it this way. Pa’s happy. And I know it’s not easy, but you’re eighteen. I doubt you’ll be in the house for more than a year anyway.”

  Sighing, I reach for a biscuit. “I suppose you’re right.”

  I jump as Adeline pushes her chair back and races to the cupboard. August stands up too, and we look at each other in confusion.

  She laughs, turning to face us. “Calm down, you two. I’ve just thought of something I think you should have for a while.”

  I narrow my eyes, looking at her enclosed fist. She gestures for me to hold open my hands and I do, watching with curiosity as she sets something in my hands.

  I look down to see a rock. I start to laugh, but she silences me.

  “This is the Hope Rock. See there’s an ‘h’ on it.”

  I look down at the rock, and sure enough there’s a little ‘h’ scratched into the side of the rock. I look up at her annoyed. Why is she giving me a rock? Am I meant to throw it at Bradley next time he makes a smart comment, and hope he never returns?

  “A student gave it to me. She told me she found it the day she met me, and I gave her hope. She lost her mother and was having some troubles, you see? I’ve kept it until now, but I think the Hope Rock has served me enough. I think other people should have it. I know it’s just a rock, but a child saw something in it. Perhaps you can too?”

  “Oh, Adeline. This rock sounds too special to you. I can’t possibly take it.”

  “No. Take it. And when you’re done with it, give it to someone who needs it.” She takes August’s hand and he smiles down at her. “Because I’ve already found my hope.”

  I close my hand around the rock, deciding this will be better than nothing. “Thank you.”

  Soon, Lydia and Hazel emerge from the nursery and move to sit at the table too. I’m not sure how long we sit there visiting with everyone, but for the first time in awhile, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I might have a little hope.

  I realize how low my hope has been lately, considering the fact that now I’m putting it all on a rock.

  Chapter 2

  “Lydia, you’re slower than a tree.”

  “But trees don’t move.”

  I laugh, jumping up onto a fallen log. “Exactly.”

  She climbs up too and playfully hits my shoulder. “Now I’m not really that slow. It’s just a little hot out.”

  “Don’t be complaining. It’s only spring, and I assure you, we’ll have much hotter days in the summer.”

  We walk through the bushes, stepping over the thorns and climbing over dead tree logs. Soon, I spot a clump of familiar white flowers. “Ah, finally.” I smile, quickening my pace until I reach the beautiful daisies. “These will look lovely on the table.”

  I carefully pluck one from the ground and a memory rushes into my mind.

  I was eleven. We’d been living in Nebraska for a few years now. I don’t remember where my sisters all were, but Ma and I were walking through the bushes, looking for a centrepiece for the table. I can still remember how she took my hand in hers and led me through the bushes, ducking under low branches and stepping over the occasional deer droppings.

  I remember clearly how ma’s face lit up when she saw a patch of daisies in the distance. As we were picking them, she smiled at me, handing me one. “Listen carefully, Genevieve. When you’re making flower centrepieces, always remember that as long as you’ve got daisies in the vase, it will be pure beauty.”

  Just as quick as the memory came, it leaves and I’m back, crouched down picking daisies for my own table. Ever since that day, when I pick flowers, my centrepieces always have at least a few daisies in it. Sometimes, I just fill the whole vase with them.

  Ma’s love of daisies was passed on to all of her daughters. We all adore the beautiful flower.

  “Genevieve, you pick flowers slower than a boulder.” Lydia giggles as she stands up, a handful of daisies in her hand.

  “I’m sorry. I just had a nice memory of when Ma took me to get flowers for the table. I guess I forgot what I was doing.”

  She reaches to take my hand, pulling me up. “Come on. Let’s get back to the house and put these in some water.”

  Smiling, I walk beside her toward home, eager to put the daisies in some water and set them out on the table for all to see their beauty.

  * * *

  Some days, there aren’t enough things for me to busy myself with. I’m not attending school in Riverbend anymore now that I’m eighteen, so sometimes I feel like there is barely anything to do. It’s nice now, though, because Hazel and Lydia aren’t in school at the moment either. It’s spring and the summer term hasn’t yet begun.

  But I know once they go back to school, I’ll be quite lonely. Pa and the boys will likely be outside doing something all the time.

  A dreadful thought comes to me, and I feel my stomach churn. Every day—five days a week—I’ll be alone in the house with Freida.

  I know I won’t get anything done with her around. She’ll talk and talk nonstop as she always does.

  Annoyed, I set my book down. My family doesn’t have much money for such things as books. I read the ones we do have over and over. A few were my ma’s, and some I’ve received for special Christmas gifts.

  I’m not sure where Lydia and Hazel are. Those two are almost inseparable. Pa, Bradley, and Douglas went out to fix something, and Freida ran to Riverbend to get some flour and other items Pa needed her to get.

  So, I’m all alone. I’ve cleaned everything up from lunch. I’ve read so long my eyes are starting to lose focus, and now I’m faced with finding something to do.

  I smile, an idea coming to me. I make my way outside. The warm, spring air hit me almost instantly. The birds are singing as I take in the surroundings around me, then head toward the barn. This is the barn my pa nearly died building. I quickly shudder away the thought. I soon enter and find the familiar horse I’ve grown to love.

  Old Red—the sweetest horse in the entire world. I grab the worn reins from the hook and pull them over his head. I run my hand down his dark brown fur. “Ready for a ride?”

  Old Red’s eyes meet mine, and I’m sure they seem to sparkle. I guess that means yes. Reaching to pull myself up on top of him, I manage to get my leg up. Soon I’m sitting on top of the tall horse, the reins in my hand.

  “Let’s go.” I breathe, digging my heels into Old Red’s side. We take off, out of the barn paddock and into the yard. I’m not really sure where I plan to go, but I just keep riding.

  I can feel the wind rushing behind me, pushing my long, brown curls behind me. The familiar feeling of riding a horse overwhelms me. Why did I ever stop?

/>   I think back to the first time Ma took me to ride a horse. It was Old Red, much younger at the time, though. She told me that knowing how to ride and be around horses is one of the most joyful things in the world. Ma had lifted me up onto Old Red and told me to hold the reins. She led him around in circles and after that, I remember no one could keep me away from the barn.

  For the first year of horse riding, I was only six and Ma didn’t want me to ride without her around. So I usually spent my afternoons in the barn, brushing Old Red or talking to him. And sometimes, when Ma had a little spare time, she would take me for a ride. We had other horses at that time too, but I guess Old Red and I just bonded. By the time I was ten, I would take Old Red for rides on my own almost every day. I used to feel so free and when Ma died… I guess I just stopped.

  Pulling on the reins slightly, I slow Old Red down. I had stopped riding when I needed it the most, I realize. I shake my head quickly. But never again.

  Laughing, I dig my heels in to Old Red’s sides again and he takes off. We go up over the grassy hill and into the meadows where Adeline spent so much time when she still lived here. As we approach a small fence, I prepare to jump. When we get closer, I command Old Red to jump and he does, just like he’d always done before. We soar over the fence and land on the other side.

  I decide to slow him down and find some water for us. The sun is beating down and I don’t want to cause Old Red to end up with heat exhaustion. Doing a slow trot, we come to a clearing in some trees and head carefully in. I guide him around the trees and over the fallen logs until I find a little creek.

  It can’t be very deep because I can see the rocks underneath as the water trickles over them. I carefully guide Old Red near the creek and hop off, landing in some long grass that’s almost up to my knees. Old Red moves his head down to drink some of the water while I walk around the clearing.

  It’s almost a perfectly circular spot of nothing but long grass and wild flowers. The trees have grown up around the circle, and in one spot I can see the creek between two trees. Looking up, I can see the sky. The leaves of the trees don’t cover it.

  This place is beautiful. I know I’ve never been here before, despite the amount of area I’ve explored on our land.

  Making my way toward Old Red, I smile. This will be a perfect place for a picnic. I’m sure Lydia and Hazel will love it here.

  I kneel down by the water once Old Red moves away, reaching in to allow my fingers to feel the cool water. It runs past my fingers and I sigh, content. I swing my legs around, pulling the skirt of my dress up over my knees to allow my feet to go in the water.

  I close my eyes, tipping my head back slightly. It’s just something about the sound of nature that never fails to amaze me. It’s a peaceful sound, one you could easily fall asleep to. I can also hear the sound of Old Red munching on some grass. He probably loves it here. Fresh water and uneaten grass—what more could a horse want?

  I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but I guess it’s been quite awhile. I realize I should probably start heading back before someone worries about me. That is, if anyone has even come home yet.

  On my way back to the house, I make note of every turn and bush I pass, not wanting to forget where this place is. I want to show it to Lydia and Hazel. I know they’ll desperately want to see it once I tell them about it.

  For a minute I hesitate, wondering if I should tell them. I love to be able to share stuff with them, but maybe this can be my place. It was rather nice for me to sit alone with my thoughts in a happy environment. And Old Red seemed to enjoy it too. Maybe I can keep it a secret for just a little longer. There will be no harm in doing that. Everyone needs their own special place. This can be mine.

  Chapter 3

  “Of course, Pa.”

  I reach the bed where Bradley and Douglas lie snoring. When they first moved in, I was extremely relieved they wouldn’t be staying in my loft, but in a bed next to the table downstairs.

  I kick the leg of the boy’s bed, the frame vibrating as soon as my foot makes contact. “Wake up.”

  Douglas pulls the pillow over his head. “Why?”

  “Because we have church. Get up.” I turn away from the bed, annoyed.

  Bradley in turn moans, opening his eyes. “Why does stupid church have to be so early?”

  “Wake up, and don’t be so disrespectful,” I warn, making my way over to the ladder up to the loft. Hazel and Lydia are sound asleep in their bed as I make my way over to them. “Time to wake up, girls.”

  I rest my arm on Hazel’s leg. Slowly, they open their eyes, yawning. Lydia sighs and sits up, her eyes blinking quickly. “If you say so…”

  Soon they’re both up and making their way to get dressed as I make the beds. Lydia holds up two dresses, one pink with white lace and the other a long sleeved, purple velvet dress. “Which one do you think I should wear?”

  I smile as she takes turns holding the dresses up against her. “Lydia, both look wonderful on you. I love the purple one, though. It always makes you look so mature.”

  “Good point, Genevieve. Hazel? What do you think?”

  Hazel makes her way toward me, turning to let me tie the ribbon on the back of her dress in a bow. She laughs. “Yes, I think the purple one is nice.”

  Lydia grins, walking to put the other dress away.

  Soon, everyone is ready and has eaten the breakfast Freida made. As we make our way out the door, I smile at Hazel walking beside me. Her blonde hair is done in perfect ringlets from the curlers she slept in. “You look lovely, Hazel.”

  “Thanks, Genevieve.”

  “You know,” I pause, looking at her closely. “You look like Ma. Your hair is a different color, but the way you walk with such confidence and how your eyes have this special glow to them, you just resemble Ma so much.”

  She gives me a sad smile, her eyes having a forlorn look in them. “I think you’ll think of me as a monster when I tell you this, but I don’t really remember what Ma looked like.”

  I furrow my eyebrows looking down at her. “Hazel, you were only twelve when she died. It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember.”

  “I mean, I remember her hair color, her eye color, but her face…it’s just gone. Does that make me a terrible person?”

  “No, it’s been nearly five years. I sometimes can’t remember what her face looks like. It’s like I’ve maybe forgotten, but I see her in my dreams a lot, which I suppose is why I can remember exactly. If you ever forget, look at Darlene. She is almost exactly what Ma looked like.”

  Eventually, everyone is sitting in the wagon, the lines clearly drawn. Hazel, Lydia, and I are in the seats on the left, Bradley and Douglas on the opposite side, with Pa and Freida in the front seat.

  Douglas sits with his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “You all right, Douglas?” Lydia smiles, leaning forward. Of course, Lydia is the one trying to be nice. Nothing is wrong with him. He’s just being stuck up and spoiled as always.

  “Yes, leave me alone.”

  Lydia jumps at his words slightly and sinks back in her seat, not making eye contact with anyone. This makes me want to knock little Douglas out of his seat. Now he’s upset Lydia, and that’s not okay with me. I once again find my hand enclosed around the pendant. It’s tight around my neck, the pendant touching my skin on its thick, dark band.

  “Douglas, she was just being polite. It’s hard not to notice the sour look on your face,” I say with my hand still over the picture of Ma.

  He snorts a laugh. “Well stop looking at me then.”

  Before I can stop myself, the words come out, “I wish I could, but now that you’re living in my house, you’re always in my sight.”

  I hear Hazel let out a breath, and Freida turns around to look at us. Pa doesn’t turn around but I can hear the strain in his voice. “How about all of you stop talking to each other? Clearly, some people are in foul moods this morning.”

  An
d like that, for the rest of the ride in to Riverbend, everyone remains silent. Soon, though, we’re there and as soon as the wagon stops, I practically bolt out of the box. Jumping down, I land on the hard dirt ground with Lydia and Hazel right behind me. Not waiting for anyone else, I pull them toward the church.

  Inside, we find our normal seats, and I make sure to take the end seat so no one can sit next to me except Lydia, and beside her, Hazel.

  The church fills with people arriving, everyone dressed nicely. Pa, Freida, and the boys make their way to sit in the seat next to Hazel. I try not to make eye contact with Pa, knowing he’s likely angry with me, so I look around at all the people instead.

  One of my close school friends, Polly, makes her way down the aisle with her husband on her arm. She stops to rest a hand on my shoulder. “Hello, how are you doing this morning, Genevieve?”

  I smile, looking up into her bright, green eyes. “Very well. How are you?”

  “Pretty good. Oh, I guess we should go take a seat. The pastor is setting up. Talk to you later?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.” I smile back at her as I watch them take a seat. The door opens and Pa inhales loudly. I look to see what’s wrong, following his eyes to the door.

  Standing in the doorway is Joel Adams—the man who tried to steal our wheat four years ago. And also the man I’d given money to, behind my families back.

  It feels like my lungs have stopped working as I struggle to breathe. My eyes seem to have gone blurry. And is it just me, or is it really hot in here? My hand instantly rises to the pendant.

  I watch as his eyes scan the area. Soon he walks toward us, and sits down in an empty seat—one which also happens to be directly opposite the aisle from me. Of course I just had to sit on the seat closest to the aisle.

  Surely he will recognize me and say something? Then Pa will know I gave the money to the thief. Trying to cover my face, I rest my elbow on my knee and bring my hand up over my cheek.