Marrying Daisy Bellamy

by Susan Wiggs

  He turned to see the shopgirl regarding him with a slightly teasing grin. She was cute, in her twenties, probably, like him. A black girl, something not so common in Avalon. “I’m in a hurry,” he said. “On my way to a birthday party.”

  She eyed the armload of toys. “For how many kids?”

  “Just my niece.”

  “Okay, big guy.” The shopgirl methodically took back and reshelved each toy. “Tell me about your niece, and I’ll help you pick out the perfect gift.”

  “Thanks. Her name is Zoe.”

  “And what does she call you?”

  “Sometimes Unkie,” he said, cringing a little. “Sometimes Julian. Does it matter?”

  The girl’s eyes seemed to shine even brighter. “It does to me. I wanted to find out your name.”

  That made him laugh a little. “Julian Gastineaux,” he said. “That’s me. And you are?”

  “Guinevere Johnson.”

  “So is this your store?”

  “No, I was named after the store. My mom has owned the place since before I was born. Is it weird, do you think, that it’s named after a known adulteress?”

  “Most people probably don’t think of that,” he said.

  “All right, then. Let’s talk about Zoe. Does she like to dress up or is she more of a tomboy?”

  “Dress up, for sure. The kid’s room looks like a burlesque dressing room, with feather boas and…those crown things.”

  “Tiaras.”

  “Yeah, that’s, like, her basic gear. Her birthday’s at the country club. A swimming party.”

  “And does she prefer playing sports or playing with dolls?”

  “Dolls, I guess. This sounds like a compatibility test.”

  “Just doing my due diligence.”

  Eventually they settled on the idea of a baby doll with several clothing changes. Guinevere reached for a dark-skinned baby, but he stopped her. “I think she’d go for a white doll. Zoe’s lily-white.”

  “Really.”

  “I have a very diverse family.”

  “Cool.” She insisted on gift-wrapping it for him. She seemed to take her time, chatting away as she worked. “So do you live here in Avalon?”

  “For the time being. I’m on an extended leave from the air force.”

  “Really? I’ve never met anyone in the air force. What’s that like?”

  “It’s…interesting. I put in for pilot training. Waiting to hear back on that.”

  “Well, that’s very impressive. I’d love to hear more about it.” Their hands touched as she gave him back his credit card.

  By then there was no question—she was flirting with him. This cute, funny girl was flirting, and he’d be an idiot to ignore her. He was an idiot. Everything about this girl was completely appealing, but loving Daisy wasn’t something he could shed or have his psychiatrist explain away. Loving her was part of his blood and bone. Scary thought. Had she ruined him for all other women?

  As Julian turned and passed through the wrought-iron gates of the country club, past the plaster jockeys holding their lamps, he reflected that there had been a time—not all that long ago—when a guy who looked like him would be arriving via the service entry, rather than through the main entrance as an invited guest.

  Change was good, he reminded himself. It was good to be in a world where every possibility was open to him.

  Every possibility except one.

  He and Daisy were doing a good job avoiding one another, so that was something. She held true to her word to stick with her marriage. He had no choice but to respect her decision.

  His medical team—physician, shrink, physical therapist—kept urging him to be patient with himself and take time to adjust, but he really wanted to wake up one morning and be over her. He was doing his best to focus on getting better and going on to the next phase of his career.

  Zoe’s party was set up at a shaded outdoor table by the pool. When she spotted him, she ran over and gave him a wet hug. Her swimsuit had fins and a shiny fish tale, and her goggles were studded with rhinestones.

  As she scampered off to join the other kids at the wading pool, he wandered over to visit with his brother and sister-in-law. Connor and Olivia had been good to him since he’d returned, giving him a place to live indefinitely while he figured out the direction of his future.

  “Mermaid juice?” Olivia offered, gesturing at a pitcher filled with a glowing green fluid.

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “There’s a bar for the grown-ups.” She indicated a deck overlooking the pool, accessed by a side stairway.

  “A beer sounds good. Do you need anything?”

  “I’ll take a beer, too,” said Connor.

  “Be right back.” He headed toward the bar. Halfway up the stairs, he paused and looked around, something he’d taken to doing since his escape. Never again would he take anything for granted, not even the chance to spend a few seconds breathing the air and taking in the scenery. He listened to the sounds of people splashing in the pool, the hollow click of a golf club hitting a ball, the cool jazz murmuring from hidden speakers. This was not his world, but he felt comfortable here. Considering the places he’d been, he knew how to fit in anywhere.

  As he approached the outdoor bar, he heard a crash, followed by raucous male laughter.

  “Whoa there,” someone said. “That dude is starting to party early.”

  Julian looked over and saw some drunk guy picking himself up off the deck amid an upended tray and broken glasses. The drunk’s companion, a guy in a Hawaiian print shirt and khaki pants, stood back, his eyes shifting as though he wanted to hide.

  Julian’s gut tightened as he walked over to the drunk guy, who had fallen again. The red hair and husky build were unmistakable. Great.

  Bending down, he grabbed Logan’s arm. “Okay, my man, party’s over.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?” asked his companion.

  Logan glared at Julian, wobbled a little. “Yeah, we go way back, old Jules and Logan.”

  “How much has he had?” Julian asked.

  “A few,” the guy admitted. “Er, several. Doubles. Christ, my tab’s going to be sky-high.”

  “I’m good for it,” Logan said thickly. “Less get another round, my treat.”

  Julian kind of hated the guy in that moment. He’d never had any love for Logan, but up to this point, he’d admired his commitment to staying sober and his devotion to his kid. He hadn’t even blamed Logan for marrying Daisy once it appeared Julian was out of the picture.

  The swaying, bleary-eyed guy before him now seemed like a different person.

  “I’m going to give him a ride home,” Julian told the guy, then turned to the furious waiter Logan had collided with. “Sorry. We’re out of here.”

  “The hell we are,” Logan said. “It’s single barrel bourbon day.”

  “Right.” Julian didn’t bother arguing. He kept hold of Logan’s arm and led the way around the side of the building to avoid marching him through the clubhouse.

  “I’ve always had a problem with you,” Logan said, stumbling.

  Julian moved in to keep Logan from falling again. “I’m the least of your problems.”

  Logan turned belligerent in the car. “This is none of your damn business.”

  “I’m making it my business. Is Daisy at your house? What about Charlie?”

  “She’s on the job, where else would she be on the weekend? Charlie’s at a campout. And in case you didn’t hear me the first time, s’none of your business.”

  Julian considered taking the guy home, depositing him on his doorstep or maybe throwing him in the shower fully clothed. That didn’t seem like such a great idea. Logan might get a notion to drive somewhere or do something equally foolish.

  “Pull in here,” Logan ordered, jerking his thumb toward a package store on the right. “I need to pick up something.”

  “I got a better idea,” said Julian, making a sharp left into Blanchard Park. “Let’s
pull in here.” He passed a latte stand and parked by the lake. Jumping out, he went around, unbuckled Logan and yanked him from his seat.

  “What the—” Logan flailed but was too uncoordinated to defend himself.

  Julian turkey-walked him to the end of the dock and unceremoniously shoved him over the edge. Logan hit the water with a splash and came up sputtering. “Son of a bitch,” he roared.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Julian said. “Do yourself a favor and sober up.”

  “You’re insane. You’re trying to drown me.” He gasped, inhaled water and choked repeatedly.

  “If I was trying to drown you,” Julian stated, “you’d already be sleeping with the fishes.”

  The guy’s eyes were looking a little clearer. Nothing like a shock of cold lake water to bring a person to his senses. “Fuck you,” he said, his enunciation crisp now.

  Julian had heard far worse from his brothers in the military. He regarded Logan coolly. “Get out of the water. I got a birthday party to go to.”

  “Ask me if I care. Christ, Gastineaux, what the hell do you want from me? Why the hell do you care if I have a couple drinks?”

  “As I understand it, you’re not supposed to have even one drink, not even a sip.”

  “Did Daisy tell you that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You think it’s easy dealing with all this shit?”

  At that, Julian couldn’t keep in a bark of laughter. “You think you’re God’s special drunk? You think nobody’s ever been like you before? Well, guess what, buddy? We’re all like you. And you’re like all of us. Except you’ve got more to lose. Don’t you see how good you have it? You’ve got everything I want—I mean, everything you want.”

  Logan swam awkwardly to the wooden ladder. “You’re a real dick, you know that?” He grabbed the ladder and tried to hoist himself up. He slipped and fell back, going under again. He stayed under long enough for Julian to experience a flicker of worry. Then he reappeared, choking again. “Dammit, give me a hand,” he demanded.

  The moment Julian reached down, he realized his mistake. Logan grabbed him, hauling him into the water. It was cold enough to steal his breath. He resurfaced in a fury.

  Logan tried to tackle him and drag him under. Although he had the advantage of outweighing Julian, it ended there. Julian was trained in every sort of fighting, including aquatic.

  “Okay, wise guy,” he said. “You picked my favorite combat technique.” He easily took the upper hand, imprisoning Logan’s arms and pulling them up and back to force his face into the water. Then he pulled back, hearing Logan gasp for breath.

  “How often do you go on a bender like this?” he demanded, wondering how much Daisy had suffered through.

  “None of your—”

  Julian shoved his face in the water again and brought him back up. “You’re a stupid SOB, aren’t you?”

  “Fuck off, Gastin—”

  Julian plunged him under a third time, held him down, then hauled him up. “What the hell is your problem? You ended up with everything you wanted,” he said. “And now you’re pissing that away.”

  “Like I said, none of your business, dickhead.”

  Julian held him under another time. It occurred to him that he could finish this right here, right now. It was the most fleeting of thoughts, but the darkness of it worried him so he pulled up again.

  “Just shut up and listen,” he said. “We can go at this all day if you want. If you’re ready for it to stop, keep your mouth shut. I don’t care whose business it is, and frankly I don’t care if you drink yourself into a coma. But I do care what happens to Daisy and Charlie, and they don’t deserve to put up with a drunk.”

  “Who the hell are you to judge—”

  One last plunge. Julian had to indulge himself. He quickly relented. Keeping Logan in a half nelson hold, he made his way to shore. He dragged Logan like a prisoner to the car. Their clothes and shoes squished with every step.

  Julian went around to the driver’s side and started the engine.

  “You’re going to ruin the upholstery, genius,” Logan grumbled.

  “Yeah, I’m real worried about that.” The car was his old beater from college, nothing a little lake water would hurt. He pulled up to the latte stand and ordered a large coffee, black, fishing his wallet out of his soggy pants and paying for it with a damp bill and some pocket change. The barista regarded him with raised eyebrows but took the money.

  “Drink it,” said Julian. “Try not to scald yourself.”

  “Screw you.” Logan took a sip and glared straight ahead. After a few more sips, he dug an iPhone out of his pocket and swore. “Ruined. You ruined it.”

  Julian didn’t argue. “You need to make a phone call?”

  “No. I need a damn phone.” He drank some more coffee, then leaned back against the headrest and shut his eyes.

  “You’re not calling Daisy,” Julian said through gritted teeth.

  “I need to call my fucking sponsor, dumbass.”

  Julian read a tinge of remorse in Logan’s anger. “Who is he, and where does he live?”

  A few minutes later, he drove up to a lakeside bungalow with flower boxes under the windows and bird-houses hanging from the trees. Julian went to the door. A guy with shaggy hair, in a T-shirt and jeans, answered, not even raising an eyebrow as he regarded Julian’s wet clothes. Julian introduced himself and stepped aside, gesturing at the car. “I brought a friend to see you. Hope this isn’t a bad time.”

  Eddie took one look at Logan. He didn’t ask questions. “It’s not a bad time.”

  Thirty-One

  Summer ended in a haze of gold. Flowers bloomed riotously and with abandon, having no knowledge that they would soon fade away. There was something to be said for not knowing what came next, Daisy reflected. Use up everything you’ve got, all at once.

  “How come Dad’s not with us?” Charlie asked from the backseat.

  “He’ll catch up a little later,” she said.

  “Why do they call it the Bellamy Family Ruin?” he asked.

  “Reunion,” she corrected him. “It means a special time when we all get together and have fun being a family. Remember last year?”

  “No.”

  “Sure you do. Aunt Sonnet got stung by a bee and had to stab herself with her epi-pin because she’s allergic.”

  “Yeah, that was cool.”

  “And it was a fun day, right?”

  “Yeah. Why do we have a reunion?”

  “To make sure we stay in touch, as a family, no matter where we are in the world.” Not for the first time, she felt a barely acknowledged yearning to see and experience new things. She hadn’t been anywhere since Vegas.

  Stop it, she thought, and reminded herself to be grateful for the life she had and the good times the reunion would bring. Bellamys were coming from as far away as Japan and South Africa, Seattle and Santa Barbara, just to spend the weekend at Camp Kioga. The festivities would start this evening with a barbecue and a bonfire by the lake. Tomorrow would bring a picnic, games and boating or sitting around and catching up with one another.

  “When’s Dad coming?” Charlie asked again.

  “I don’t know what time, exactly. Tell you what. When we get to Camp Kioga, you can send him a text message from my phone.”

  Charlie was silent.

  “Okay?” she prodded.

  “Dad has to catch up with us later because he’s at a meeting,” Charlie said, proving once again that he missed very little.

  “That’s right.” She kept her tone even, but she suspected her son could see right through the calm exterior. Since Logan’s relapse, she’d come to realize that her son understood a lot more than she’d ever suspected.

  The relapse felt like a turning point for them as a couple. Not that it was some unforgivable offense—far from it. But the crisis had the effect of forcing them to deal with things they’d been studiously ignoring, practically from the day they’d impulsively marri
ed. It made her wonder who she and Logan thought they were fooling.

  Logan’s slip had come as a total surprise, though it probably shouldn’t have. She had returned home from an overnight assignment last Sunday to find him waiting for her, freshly showered and shaved, looking pale and deeply contrite. Oddly fragile.

  “I got drunk last night,” he’d said, and the whole story had rushed out of him—the new neighbor, the country club… Julian’s role. God. Julian. It was a terrible, splendid irony that he’d been involved, playing the role of rescuer.

  Later that Sunday, when Charlie had come home from his campout, Logan had taken him to the backyard, where the two of them had kicked a soccer ball back and forth. When they came in, Charlie seemed thoughtful and subdued. He’d had nothing to say until now, with his observation that Logan was at a meeting.

  “I hope it’s okay with you,” she said, “that your dad goes to meetings.”

  He shrugged. “They help him so he won’t drink alcohol.”

  “Right.” She parked near the main pavilion. There was plenty of room, because for this weekend only, the resort was closed to the public.

  “Want to send a text message?” she asked, handing him her phone.

  “Nah, he knows where to find me.” Charlie had spotted the cluster of people around the main pavilion, and his eyes lit with excitement. He tumbled out of the car and went to find the kids to play with down by the lake. Four generations of Bellamys were present, from Daisy’s grandfather Charles, the patriarch, to the youngest, a babe in arms recently born to Jenny and Rourke Mc Knight, their second.

  Daisy headed to the reception area to greet and re-acquaint herself with relatives from near and far. She was particularly taken with a second cousin she hadn’t known that long—Ivy Bellamy, who worked as an artist in Santa Barbara. On the surface, the two of them didn’t seem to have much in common, but Daisy had an odd sense that Ivy was the person Daisy would be if she’d made different choices in the past. Ivy was single, childless, fiercely artistic and joyfully carefree. She lived on the beach in Southern California and seemed to be the kind of person who squeezed all the juice out of every day of her life. Daisy sometimes found herself wishing she had time to do some squeezing of her own.