by Susan Wiggs
“Connor.” She managed to breathe his name. “Please—”
He pulled away then, swiftly getting up and turning on a small wall sconce. “Yeah,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “Er, sorry.”
Oh, God. He’d misunderstood. And for the life of her, she couldn’t move a muscle. She was still under his spell, paralyzed by desire. She must look like a floozy, lying there, skirt hiked up to her thighs. “You’re sorry?” she managed to whisper.
“I got carried away,” he said. “I kind of forgot…” He shook his head, offered a self-deprecating grin. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “This isn’t right. I don’t want to take advantage of you. Sorry,” he repeated.
Melting. Her knees were melting. She slumped against him in a stupor from his kisses. Sorry? Sorry? She was the one who’d been carried away, and she wanted to scream in frustration.
He held her briefly, one of his hands cupping her head to his chest. His heart was racing. She wished he would kiss her some more, because those first kisses were wearing off and she wanted to be completely under his spell again.
Just as she was trying to figure out how to tell him, he let her go, turning away. Wait, she wanted to say. The bed is here, and I’m here, and—oh, God. Instead, she sat there in a fog, trying to figure out what went wrong, why he’d pushed her away. Maybe, she thought, maybe while they were kissing, Connor had forgotten who it was he held in his arms. Maybe he’d forgotten that she was Lolly Bellamy, the girl everyone laughed at. The girl he himself had turned into a joke. Maybe there was something about the way she tasted or moved or the way her breathing felt against him that reminded him of the past and warned him off. And a part of her—a big part—was still stuck in the past, in a place from where she had never moved on.
“Hey,” she whispered. “I’m getting some really mixed signals from you.”
“Yeah, I apologize, Olivia. It won’t happen again.”
She started to ask him what had made him change his mind, why he’d gone from zero to sixty…and back to zero, all in under a minute. Then she realized she didn’t actually want to hear it. Between the previous three, she’d heard it all. You’re a nice girl, Olivia, but…after the “buts,” they found any number of creative ways to fill in the blank there, and when it came to making excuses, men were nothing if not creative.
Twenty-Six
The August heat wave hit Camp Kioga like a wall of fire. Daisy, Max and their father hadn’t gotten any better at fishing over the weeks of summer, but at least when they were out on the lake in the canoe, the water-cooled breeze offered soothing relief. Their paddling had improved, and when it was time to head back after a couple of hours of casting their lines, they glided swiftly and smoothly to the dock. Max expertly wrapped a line around a cleat and they got out while Dad held the boat steady. Daisy’s shoulders ached from paddling and from casting her line so many times.
Fishing had to be one of the most pointless activities known to man, she decided. Why it was called a sport was beyond her.
Frustrated and sweaty, she grabbed her water bottle. “I’m going for a swim, Dad. Do you want to—” She broke off, her voice failing her when she saw the expression on her father’s face. Somehow, she knew without even turning around what she would see at the end of the dock.
“Mom!” Max burst out, and raced at top speed into his mother’s waiting arms.
Daisy cast a panicked look at her father.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Go say hi to your mother.”
Daisy approached her mother slowly, trying painfully to hold in sudden tears. Max was clinging to her like a limpet, his face buried against her. Mom looked totally out of place in the woods. She wore creased slacks and a crisply ironed white shirt that didn’t dare to wilt, even in this heat. Her hair was sleekly combed back, makeup applied with precision. The executive camper.
Except that Mom had tears in her eyes, too, and, Daisy knew what was about to happen.
“You came, Mommy,” Max said, oblivious to the warning signs. “Isn’t it nice here? Come on, I’ll show you around. We’ve been working, all of us—”
“I want to see everything, Max,” Mom told him. “Let me say hi to Daisy, too.”
They hugged, and to Daisy it felt awkward, and she hated that. When she was little, she used to melt into her mother’s arms, and feel surrounded and protected by a sensation of pure comfort. This was different. Everything was different. Even her mom’s hair. It was really short. Earlier in the year, she had cut off her hair and given it to Locks of Love, in order to support a friend who was battling breast cancer. How could she be such a good friend and such an unhappy wife?
“Hi, baby,” Mom said to her, pulling back. “I missed you so much.”
“Me, too.” Daisy stepped out of the embrace. That wasn’t exactly right. What she missed was the way her family used to be. She looked at these people, these familiar faces, and tried to remember how they used to laugh together, to feel safe and happy, all under one roof. Where had that family gone? It was like they were frozen in some other dimension, leaving these others in their place, these people with frown lines and trembling lips and eyes that swam in tears but never let them flow.
Dad looked both defensive and scared. Only moments ago, he’d been laughing and splashing in the boat, teaching them silly camp songs. “Sophie,” he said, and the greeting sounded weary, a breath of defeat.
“Come on, Mom, let me show you everything.” Max seemed determined to be cheerful, to act as if nothing was wrong. He took her by the hand and played tour guide, showing her around the camp, pointing out all the projects they had done to get the place ready for Nana and Granddad’s celebration. Dinner was strained, although everyone acted thrilled that Mom had come. Dare served watermelon and cold cuts, but Daisy could only pick at her food. Afterward, there were card games and Ping-Pong in the rec room, but Daisy didn’t feel much like playing. Max didn’t, either. She saw him standing in the doorway of the dining hall, looking out at the deck, where their parents were talking in low, strained voices. Mom stood with her arms folded across her middle as if she had a stomachache. Dad hung his head in defeat.
Daisy went over to Max and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, his eyes huge and frightened. Aw, Max, she thought, wishing she could take away his fear, knowing she couldn’t.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It was probably a lie, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She squared her shoulders, cleared her throat and opened the door to the deck. “Come on.”
Mom and Dad tried to smile when Max and Daisy joined them, but it didn’t work, and all four of them knew it. Mom put her arms around both of them and held them close. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. I love the two of you to pieces, but I can’t do this anymore.” Then she stepped back, and glanced from Daisy to Max and back again. “Your father and I have been discussing this for a long time,” she said. “We have to make a change in our family.”
Later that night, Daisy’s parents made coffee in the main hall and sat together, going through official-looking papers in a thick manila folder her mother had brought. Not only was her mom ditching her dad—she was going to be living overseas half the time, in The Hague, practicing international law. “It’s what I’ve trained for all my life,” Mom explained. “I can’t pass up this opportunity.”
Sure you can, Daisy wanted to say. Women with families pass up opportunities all the time. Or they wait until their kids don’t need them anymore. She bit the inside of her lip and told herself not to say it. There was enough bitterness already.
Max asked where The Hague was. Daisy took him to the camp library and showed him in an atlas. Then she took Max to their cabin. Her brother barely spoke a word as he went through the motions of brushing his teeth and washing up. One thing about being at camp—he never complained about bedtime, and tonight was no exception. Daisy lay down beside him on the bunk and switched o
n the reading light. “What are you reading now?”
“Treasure Island,” he said in a small voice. “Dad’s been reading it to me.”
“Cool.” She opened the book to the marked page and began to read. Despite the heat, Max snuggled against her as she read about the marooned Ben Gunn, and by the time Jim Hawkins was drawing closer to the treasure, Daisy’s brother was nearly asleep.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Olivia and Barkis came in. The dog skittered across the floor and leaped onto the bed, immediately burrowing next to Max. “Hey, boy,” Max said, smiling a little. “He can stay if he wants,” he told Olivia.
“I think he wants to,” she said, pulling a chair over by the bunk. “Keep reading, Daisy.”
“Sure.” She picked up where she’d left off, her mouth saying the words while her mind wandered a million miles away. After a while, both Max and the little dog were asleep. Daisy eased off the bed, marked the page and turned off the reading lamp. She and Olivia sat together on the stoop of the cabin, looking across the meadow to the lake. The stars came out, and fireflies glimmered in the underbrush. A welcome breeze rippled across the compound.
“I was about Max’s age when my parents split up,” Olivia said. “Maybe a little older. I was pretty sure the world was going to come to an end. I got really, really lost for a long time.”
“What do you mean, lost?”
“I never quite knew what to think or feel, and I made some mistakes, like wishing and hoping and praying they’d get back together. I mean, it’s so totally normal for a kid to wish that, but if you let it consume you, there’s no room in your life for anything else, and you’re bound to be disappointed. I didn’t let myself see that certain things actually felt better after the breakup.”
“Like what?” Daisy plucked at a blade of grass. She wanted a cigarette but knew Olivia hated smoking.
“You know how the air feels in the house when your mom and dad are together, trying really hard to get along, for your sake?”
That nailed it. The air in an unhappy house. Daisy had felt it like a knot in her gut, and she nodded. She knew that cold, heavy feeling, the unbearable terror that one misstep would upset the balance and everything would shatter beyond recognition.
“I used to actually tiptoe,” Olivia said. “You know the expression, walking on eggshells? I would tiptoe around, hoping I wouldn’t break anything. But that’s the thing. Our family was already broken. None of it was my fault, but I had to deal with the broken pieces. I did a bad job for a while.”
“How?”
“I comforted myself with food and I got fat.”
“You? No way.”
“I was a little chubbette, from the age of about twelve right up through my first year of college.”
“I don’t remember that. I always thought you were beautiful,” Daisy said. “You are.”
“And you’re a doll,” Olivia said. “But no, I really was overweight. It was pretty unhealthy, but nobody stopped me, and I didn’t get better until I realized I was punishing myself and trying to wall myself off from feeling anything, and that was wrong.”
Like my smoking, thought Daisy. Like the cigarettes and the weed.
“I got better when I went to college, started liking myself and went to a nutritionist and took up swimming.” She paused. “This isn’t helping, is it?”
“I don’t know.” Daisy shrugged.
Olivia smoothed her hand over Daisy’s hair. “You and Max are just beginning this journey. I wish I could spare you the pain and confusion you’re bound to feel, but that isn’t how divorce works. Every family is on its own path, and there aren’t any shortcuts. One thing I can promise you is that there’ll be surprises. Good ones. Your parents are giving themselves a second chance at happiness, and that’s not such a bad thing.” Olivia lowered her hand, gave Daisy a pat on the knee. “I just hope you and Max don’t take as long as I did to adjust to all these changes.”
“I will always, always hate this and I know Max will, too.”
“Fair enough. But, Daisy, try not to cut yourself off or blame yourself. Don’t blame anybody. There is simply no point. Tonight you feel horrible, and so does Max, but you have a new opportunity here, a new way to look at your family and your life. A new way to be happy. You have a mom and dad who love you. That’s more than lots of kids have, ever. And believe me, it’s all you need.”
Twenty-Seven
As he stayed busy on the job the next few days, Connor kept pausing every now and then to take a deep breath and remind himself that he was okay. He hadn’t let things get out of hand with Olivia the night they’d gone to his trailer. He’d stopped before they reached the point of no return.
It was damn close, though. That was for sure. If he had let that kissing go on ten seconds longer, he would’ve been a goner. A total goner. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to keep her in his arms. Just the opposite. He’d wanted to hold her there forever. But given her state of mind that night, it was a bad idea on many levels. Olivia was probably thinking the same thing, now that the heat of the moment had cooled. She was sophisticated these days, experienced. She got it. She knew as well as he did that you didn’t take advantage of someone in emotional distress.
He buried himself in work on the winter lodge, taking refuge in the private wooded glade surrounding the structure, which had once been the camp founder’s residence. According to Olivia and Dare, this was actually the most important renovation they were doing, because their grandparents would be staying here. A load of new plumbing and electrical fixtures had arrived, and the installation would begin today.
Just when he started to hope he wasn’t going to spend the day thinking about Olivia, she came hiking up the path. She carried a big crate in her arms, and Barkis trotted at her heels. Just the sight of her made his body tense up. She was so damn clean and fresh, like a flower, still moist with early-morning dew. Her face was scrubbed, her blond hair shining. She was dressed for work in jeans and a tank top, but oh, man. Lolly in a tank top. Now his tool belt served a new function—to hide his reaction.
“Hey,” he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant.
There must have been something in his gaze, because she stopped and rested the crate on the porch railing. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He took out a folding rule and tried desperately to find something to measure. The doorjamb? The distance between him and Lolly? The length of his erection, the depth of his desire?
“You’re staring,” she pointed out.
“Sorry. I, uh, I like your outfit. You look like…” Damn. He had no idea what to say.
“Like what?”
“Like you should have your own home-improvement show.” He paused. “That’s a compliment.” If she watched HGTV, she would know that for a fact. The women on those shows always had good hair and toned little bodies in tight jeans and clingy shirts that showed some skin.
“Oh,” she said. “Thanks, I guess.”
When she bent to set down the crate, the skimpy top rode up a few inches, and that was when he saw it. On her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans.
She had a tattoo. Lolly Bellamy had a tattoo. It was his favorite kind, too—a tiny butterfly in his favorite spot—the small of her back, right where his hands rested when he danced with her. Right where he wanted to touch her this very minute, maybe even kiss her there. Definitely kiss her there.
A tattoo. Connor was in trouble. If he’d known about it the other night, he would’ve kept her in his trailer, probably chained to the bed.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” She straightened up, hooked her thumbs into her back pockets and blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes.
He wondered if women understood that this particular posture made their boobs stand out. She had to know. She was doing this on purpose.
“I’m sure.” He cleared his throat. He heard the sound of an engine in the distance, coming closer. The work crew would be here soon. “Listen, Lolly.
About that night—”
She held up a hand to silence him. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
Well. There was a switch. Usually a woman wanted to parse every waking second of a date, as if they were forensic investigators. Yet Olivia seemed perfectly willing to let the matter drop.
“All right,” he said. “I just want to make sure you know why we didn’t—why I—”
“I know. Believe me, I understand.”
The truck engine crescendoed as the vehicle made its way up the logging road leading to the clearing. All right, thought Connor. He wouldn’t press the issue. Olivia had always been uncannily smart and intuitive. She was a psychology major, too. She got it, then.
Good. She understood why he had pushed her away, even when she’d been willing to stay. It would’ve been a huge mistake, and they both knew it. She was raw and vulnerable, her emotions exposed and unprotected after the revelations about her father. She was in no position to sleep with a guy. If he’d taken advantage of her that night, she’d probably always wonder if she’d slept with him for the right reasons, or because she’d suffered a series of emotional shocks and needed someone to cling to. In her state of mind, she would associate him with trauma and crisis, secrets and betrayal.
That was no way to start a relationship with a woman.
And there—he was now admitting that what he wanted with Olivia Bellamy was a relationship.
Maybe he even wanted to fall in love with her—all over again. But this time as a man who knew where his life was going, not as a confused and scared boy.
It was enough to scare his hard-on into submission.
Not a moment too soon, his foreman and crew arrived, pouring out of the truck—the guys, the radio, the water station, the tools and equipment. Connor greeted them with a wave, indicating the work order posted by the main doorway of the structure. “Excuse me,” he said to Olivia, and went to talk briefly to the crew. He spent more time than he needed to going over the list with the foreman. They knew each other’s rhythm, and the experienced crew didn’t need a lot of supervision. Connor lingered, helping one of the guys fix a saw motor. He felt Olivia watching him the whole time and eventually, he ran out of ways to avoid her.
