Marrying Daisy Bellamy

by Susan Wiggs

  The irony and suggestiveness of making the bed with Julian did not escape her. When her eyes met his, she could tell it hadn’t escaped him, either.

  “Okay, this is awkward,” she said.

  “Just say what’s on your mind, and it won’t be awkward.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Try me.”

  He asked for it. “Everybody thinks I’m going to go running into your arms,” she said.

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  A part of her wanted to leap up and yell, yes! It’s all I’ve ever wanted! But she shook her head. She didn’t want him to be the reason for her failed marriage. His arrival had simply coincided with the inevitable end of her and Logan. Charlie needed more time to adjust, and Daisy had to figure out what she really wanted. “I’ve got to heal from this, and who knows how long that will take? And who knows if you’ll even have me?”

  “Try me,” he said again.

  She shook her head. “You’ve been hurt by everything that’s happened, too. I don’t have any right to expect that your heart is still in the same place.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. She was both relieved and disappointed. To set up a dynamic or expectations between them now would be foolhardy. They had both survived dramatic events in their lives, and they both needed to deal with everything before they could go looking for what had been lost between them.

  She feared finding out. It was possible that through all of this, their love had changed, perhaps didn’t exist anymore. The idea made her shudder.

  They finished making up the bed. She plumped the pillows and stepped back. “Home, sweet home. For the time being, anyway.”

  They both bent at the same time to smooth a wrinkle. Their hands brushed, and she felt the instant heat of connection. She quickly recoiled, but the fleeting touch reminded her that time and distance didn’t always matter.

  She dared to meet his gaze, seeing a mirror of her own yearning in his eyes.

  “I’ve been in counseling,” she blurted out. “You know, to help Charlie and me work through this transition.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “It does help. Surprisingly, it does. I’m learning ways to forgive myself and move ahead. And what I’ve learned…about another relationship is that I need to take my time. Like, a lot of time. Because the person I am right now is bound to change.”

  Thirty-Three

  “She said that?” Connor asked Julian that night. “She actually said that bullshit about waiting and changing?”

  “Yeah, and how do you argue with the advice of a mental health professional?”

  “By telling them they’re full of shit.”

  “Yeah, about that. I have to give the professionals their due. I was one sick puppy when I got home.” It was true; he now realized the air force had made the right call in ordering his extended leave. He’d returned full of rage and raw need, not exactly the best combo for reentry into his life. “If not for Dr. Abernathy,” he told Connor, “I’d probably be in some psych ward, strumming my lips. If I’d gone straight to Daisy—and believe me, I would have done exactly that if it had been an option—we’d probably have destroyed each other by now.”

  “Okay, point taken.” Connor more than anyone else had watched Julian’s journey from the brink of despair to balance and clarity. He knew about the nightmares and flashbacks; he’d had a ringside seat at Julian’s daily fight to make sense of what had happened to him and move forward with his life. “I’m frustrated for you. You and Daisy had something special. You always have. I’d hate to see you walk away from that now.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to walk away. But we can’t pick up where we left off, not after everything that’s happened.”

  “What do you want to do?” Connor asked.

  Julian wasn’t ready to answer that, not for his brother or even for himself. He knew a little something about waiting around and being patient. A lengthy stint in a Colombian prison tended to do that for a guy. Yet he also knew the limits of endurance.

  “I’m waiting for the doc’s final report to the air force, certifying that I’m no longer damaged goods,” he said.

  “You never were, bro. Ever.”

  Charlie came in from the bus on a hot afternoon. Indian summer was having a last fling before winter’s darkness and cold. As usual, Charlie was tackled by an ecstatic Blake, who greeted him as if she hadn’t seen him in years. The two of them rolled around on the living room floor and giggled, enacting their everyday ritual. Daisy saved her work on the computer and went to see him.

  “Hey, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair and picked up his backpack. “How was your day?”

  He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “There’s a note from my teacher.”

  Her stomach clenched. A note from the teacher had never been good news. “In here?” She indicated the backpack.

  He nodded, gathering Blake into his lap.

  She found the note, slipping it from the standard envelope stamped with, “Please sign and date to acknowledge receipt.”

  “‘Dear Ms. Bellamy,’” she read aloud. “‘I’m writing to give you an update on Charlie’s behavior and academic progress…’”

  Great. She’d thought he was doing better.

  “‘I’m pleased to report that we’ve seen a marked improvement in both.’” Daisy nearly choked on the words.

  Charlie flashed a smile. “Keep reading.”

  She did, her heart filling with relief and pride as the teacher enumerated examples of improvement. “‘I am delighted with the progress Charlie has made. Thanks to you and Charlie both for all your efforts.’”

  Daisy beamed at him as she stuck the note to the fridge with a magnet. “Way to go, Charlie. Come here and give me a hug.” She held on—not too long; he was a boy, after all—absorbing the squirmy warmth of his body, inhaling the smell of him, a combination of fresh air, dog and youthful sweat.

  One of the worst things about being single was the lack of physical connection—someone to simply put your arms around and hug. She was grateful for many things about Charlie; maybe this topped the list.

  She let go at the slightest sign of impatience. “Let’s celebrate. You can have any dinner you want tonight. We can go out or eat in. Your choice.”

  “Yes,” he said. “And you know I want to stay home.”

  “Let me guess. You want breakfast for dinner.”

  “Breakfast for dinner! Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, juice.” Acting as though he’d won the lottery, he raced around the room, then headed out the back door with the dog.

  Daisy stood at the kitchen window, watching them play, listening to Charlie’s laughter and the dog barking. The two of them were inseparable. Sometimes she wished Charlie had siblings. He might, one day, but she would not think about that now.

  Her spirits were high; she had finally come to the realization that she was doing better. She’d survived the divorce and the world had not come to an end.

  Logan seemed to be doing better, too. He looked well, having finally shed the extra pounds gained during their marriage. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working.

  For her part, she’d surrounded herself with family and friends, and buried herself in work. She no longer faced each day with a knot in her stomach and a buzz of unanswerable questions in her mind.

  Lately she felt more relaxed, and the questions in her mind quieted. She still had no answers to the tough ones—Am I doing the right thing? Is this what’s best for Charlie? But she’d come to the realization that there were no right answers. With the perspective of time and distance, she understood what had happened in her marriage—and to Charlie. She and Logan had spent most of their time avoiding each other and consequently Charlie. Now their son got more attention from both of them, and once again, he was blossoming.

  What this whole ordeal had taught her—what life had taught her—was that you made the choices you made and lived the life you had with as mu
ch love and joy as you could find. Glancing at the phone, she considered calling someone to share Charlie’s good news. But who? Logan? They weren’t like that anymore. Her mother? Sonnet?

  She went to her computer, determined to put in an hour of work before dinner. She had three different events to process, and the clients were impatient.

  The amount of work was never-ending. Bride after beautiful bride paraded across her screen. She didn’t care for the job she’d done on the most recent wedding. One reason she was so in demand was her artistry. For these pictures, it had deserted her. The images looked flat and uninspired to her.

  Restless, she swivelled in her chair—and stopped. There, stuck to the corkboard above the desk, was a glossy brochure announcing this year’s MoMA competition. She had found it in her mailbox a few days ago, with Julian’s bold handwriting across the top: Go for it.

  He knew her well. He always had. She’d admitted to him that she had been avoiding the competition, skirting the deadlines, missing them. She could put her recalcitrance down to other factors—lack of time, other obligations, inability to focus, life’s upheavals—but those were all excuses. The fact was, she had been avoiding this work out of fear, pure and simple.

  A guy like Julian didn’t understand fear. Or maybe he understood it too well.

  “No fear,” she said aloud, closing the work photos. She opened the folder marked “MoMA” and was shocked to realize she had not accessed the files in months. This was her art, she thought. Her passion. Yet she’d neglected it.

  How easy it was to ignore the things that were most important. Funny how that worked.

  When she revisited the images, she was surprised to see how good they were. She hadn’t remembered that. Of course it was a long road from a good shot to a viable entry.

  She didn’t have long to work, but by the time she finished, she had a plan. She knew what she wanted to submit to the competition. No more excuses. She just had to go for it.

  Brushing her hand over Julian’s message, she spoke to him aloud, as if he were there with her in the room. “You’re good for me. You always have been.” He had returned from his ordeal a changed man. But the essence of him was the same. She loved his exuberance for life and his capacity for risk. She loved everything about him, and she had never stopped, not even when she’d received news of his death.

  Yet once again, they’d managed to fall victim to bad timing. Whenever it seemed they were getting closer, whenever it seemed they might have a shot, something got in their way. Then Julian had been ripped away from her as swiftly and cruelly as an amputation.

  Now, finally, it looked as if they might have a shot again. So much had happened, but she still felt that love like a steady flame in her heart. She was not naive enough to think everything would magically fall into place, but so what? The past few years had proven to her that she was stronger than she’d imagined she could be. She was resourceful and sometimes even smart.

  It’s too soon, her common sense told her. She’d just left a failed marriage, and getting involved with Julian now might be a huge mistake. People would shake their heads and say, “Of course her marriage didn’t stand a chance once Julian came back…”

  On the other hand, she thought, what did she care what people said? Furthermore, there was no harm in simply seeing him. They needed to spend time together.

  What was she afraid of? She used to always ask friends and family what she should do. After scandalizing the Bellamys with her unwed pregnancy, she’d grown afraid; she’d never again allowed herself to color outside the lines. All her choices had been made in the interest of playing it safe and sensible for Charlie’s sake. It was time to stretch her wings.

  After everything that had happened, she was uncertain of Julian’s affection, but that shouldn’t stop her. Neither should rules or conventions. It was ridiculous to wait for some self-imposed deadline, like a fluttery Victorian miss in mourning. When it came to Julian, Daisy knew her own heart. She’d always known. Now, more than ever, she felt an almost painful love for him. He had endured captivity and torture, yet he hadn’t broken. He’d served his country with honor in ways that could never be acknowledged, and he’d returned even stronger and more loving than ever. What in heaven’s name was she waiting for?

  She grabbed for the phone, the words already on her lips. “I love you. I’m a mess but I love you and I want to be with you.”

  Okay, maybe not that.

  She dialed his number and he picked up right away.

  “How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?” she asked.

  “If it’s food, I’m up for it.”

  “Charlie’s choice. Would you like to come to dinner?”

  There was a pause, during which every doubt she had reared up. Her heart tripped. “I mean,” she said, “you don’t have to. I know it’s last minute—”

  “Dinner would be fine,” he said.

  Daisy caught herself pacing the kitchen, a bowl of pancake batter under one arm, the other beating the mixture way too hard. It was ridiculous to feel nervous about Julian, wasn’t it? He was Julian, for heaven’s sake, whom she’d known and loved for so long. There was no reason to feel nervous. None. Nada.

  She watched Julian and Charlie through the kitchen window as she was fixing the promised dinner of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Julian and Charlie were on the dock, skipping stones into the still water. The evening was unseasonably hot. After the stone skipping, they lay facedown on the wooden planks, probably watching the schools of minnows congregating in the shadows. Through the screen window, she could hear their voices but not their words. The sound of their laughter made her smile.

  Charlie loved being with Julian. She could tell. The boy adored his dad, of course, and missed having him around. But Charlie had always been an adaptable kid.

  She kept going over what she wanted to say to Julian tonight, after Charlie was in bed. She wanted to tell him she was ready to move ahead. Even though the divorce was still a fresh wound, she wanted Julian to know her love for him was intact. It was a risk, though. She would be opening herself to hurt, and they had been apart so long, she didn’t know if he still felt the same way about her. It was safer to keep her thoughts to herself for sure. They’d never found a way to be together in the past. Life kept getting in the way. Could be, they simply weren’t meant to be together. No, she thought. The heat and tension, the constant yearning—these things could not be wrong.

  A splashing war erupted between the two of them out on the dock, their laughter crescendoing. It was on the tip of her tongue to call out a warning, but she stopped herself. Charlie could take a bath later. Julian was a grown man, and Lord knew, worse things had happened to him than a soaking.

  She got her camera and stepped outside to take a few shots of them playing.

  She wished there were some sign, a kind of guidance from beyond to tell her what to do. If the universe wanted her to confess to Julian that she still loved him, maybe a sign would come. Yes, a sign would be nice.

  Instead, the lake stayed calm and placid. Nothing changed.

  Then as she watched, Charlie and Julian stood up and took hold of each other’s hands. Before she knew what was happening, the two of them raced full tilt to the end of the dock.

  “What—”

  They jumped together, hands still joined, their bodies frozen in midair for a split second. Almost by reflex, she lifted her camera and took the shot. They hit the water with a huge splash. Charlie immediately bobbed to the surface.

  “Again!” he yelled. “Let’s jump again!”

  Daisy checked the camera’s playback. She’d caught them in midair. Jumping off the dock, the thing Charlie had sworn he would never do.

  “Maybe that’s your sign,” she said.

  She watched the two of them go flying into the lake a few more times and took more pictures before grabbing some towels and heading down to the dock.

  “You’re a pair of crazies,” she said, though she smiled as
she spoke. “It’s nowhere near warm enough to swim.”

  “Did you see, Mom? Did you see me jump?” Charlie yelled, bobbing in the water. “Me and Julian jumped off the dock. It was like flying.”

  “I saw. Now I’m seeing you get hypothermia.”

  “One more time,” Charlie begged. “Watch us one more time. Please.”

  “All right, but that’s it,” she said.

  Julian hoisted himself out of the water. She couldn’t help staring at the way his clothes molded to his body, outlining the sinews of muscle. It was a stark reminder that her new life was lacking in several very important areas.

  He turned and gave Charlie a hand.

  “Ready,” Charlie called. “One, two…”

  “Wait.” Daisy ran forward and grabbed his free hand. “Now we’re ready.”

  They had dinner, Charlie fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Julian and Daisy sat together in the living room, she in jersey pajamas, he in a borrowed bathrobe several sizes too small.

  “That was nice,” she said. “Nicest evening I’ve had since…in a long time.”

  “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”

  She tried to shake off her nervousness. But this mattered so much. “I can’t take you seriously in my pink robe,” she said.

  “This robe is awesome,” he said.

  She stroked the lapel. “It’s chenille. It’s my favorite.”

  “I could say the same,” he said, untying the belt.

  And just like that, her nervousness disappeared. “You’re here,” she said. “You’re here.” She touched his arms, his shoulders. His neck and cheekbones and chin. She touched him everywhere, her fingers marveling. He was here. He was here.

  Their lovemaking was different this time; they were different people, no longer young adults on the brink of their future but survivors, each in their own way. His every caress seared her with new emotions—love and elation, yes, but there were flashes of desperation, too. When he covered her body with his, she grasped him as if she’d never let him go. He sank down and took her swiftly, with an intensity that bordered on violence, and it was exactly what she needed, a sealing of the love that had survived the unthinkable. It was an ecstasy she never could have imagined, and she wept with the joy and emotional pain of it.