by Susan Wiggs
“She asked me to be her birth coach,” he said. Then he looked amazed, as though someone else had spoken the obviously unplanned words.
Hold on, Nina thought. This was supposed to be a business arrangement yet here they were, talking about his kids. She needed to figure out how to avoid these topics, how not to care about the heartbreaking expression on his face—a combination of love, terror, commitment and uncertainty.
Yet it was not the sort of conversational leap you could avoid. She moved aside her glass and studied his face, wondering what to say, how to react. What about your ex? She nearly asked the question aloud, although it was none of her business. Still, Nina found herself wondering about Daisy’s mother. If this had been Sonnet, wild horses couldn’t keep Nina from her side. But every family was unique, she reminded herself. Each had its own distinctive emotional landscape, its own geography.
“So, um, how do you feel about that?” she asked Greg, suspecting he hadn’t broached the topic because he wanted her opinion, but because he simply needed to talk.
“It just feels crazy. I mean, how can I not go crazy when my own daughter’s asking me to be her birth coach? I have no idea what I’m doing. My worst problem used to be making a deadline at work, getting Max to do his vocabulary homework or convincing Daisy not to dye her hair blue. That all seems trivial now that I have to go to class to learn about prolapsed cords and demand feeding.” He flashed a look that had a curious effect on Nina. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on.”
She cleared her throat. “What did you do when Max was born? You must have been there for his birth.”
“I was, but this is different. This is my daughter. I feel guilty as hell, you know? I’m the one who let her go away to Long Island that weekend with her friends—”
“Oh, no,” she said, “you are not going there. It’s no one’s fault. You can blame whatever you want, but everybody knows there are few things quite so powerful as a teenager’s sex drive. No high school girl asks to get pregnant. So just move on from all the blame and the guilt.”
“I thought I had. I don’t know what to tell her besides the fact that I love her and want only the best for her.”
“Have you told her that?” Nina asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I mean, have you really told her like you mean it, or was it just something you said?”
“Of course I meant it.”
“But you definitely have a preference about how you wish she’d handle this.” She couldn’t help remembering the way her family had been—hurt and scared and angry and so deeply disappointed in her. And she remembered her reaction, the utter determination to prove herself. She had no doubt Greg’s daughter was going through the same things. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but Daisy will handle things herself, in her own way. She’ll probably go off on her own and—”
“She’s not going anywhere.”
“Well, guess what, Greg? It’s not up to you. Every single member of my family wanted to help me. I had a chance to work at my brother’s car lot, or as a teacher’s aide for my dad, or at my sister’s salon…I was so grateful that they cared but ultimately, I had to go my own way. Daisy might, too.”
“She loves the inn.”
“She loves you,” Nina corrected him. “But don’t be surprised if she tells you she needs to find her own life.”
“What do you mean, find her own life? She’s staying right here.”
“Is that what she wants?”
“Of course that’s what she wants.”
“Have you asked her?”
“I don’t need to ask her. I know what’s best for Daisy.”
“If you say so.” Nina definitely wanted to drop the subject. In the first place, this was not her business and she was definitely not comfortable in the role of Greg’s adviser when it came to his daughter. In the second place, she knew something he was refusing to see. Daisy didn’t want to spend her life, and not even the next year or two, working at the Inn at Willow Lake. Nina wasn’t about to say that to Greg, though. It wasn’t her place. She didn’t want it to be her place.
“I still think of Daisy as a little kid,” he confessed. “I can still picture her with her hair in pigtails, skipping rope or showing me a loose tooth. Her whole childhood went by at the speed of light, and suddenly she’s about to have a kid of her own. And I’m not ready for her to stop being my kid.”
Though her heart ached for him, Nina knew that wouldn’t help. “She won’t ever stop,” she said, thinking about her own father. “When I told Pop I was pregnant, he blazed through the whole spectrum of emotional reactions—shock, rage, grief, disappointment…” Even now, Nina could feel the sadness echo through her. “Disappointment was the worst for me. I remember thinking that I’d ruined everything, that Pop and I would never be the same.”
“Great,” he said.
Nina took a deep breath. “No, hear me out,” she said. “You know, I suppose I could tell you everything will be fine, but honestly, there’ll be plenty of occasions when everything is not fine. There will be times when Daisy will fall apart and the baby won’t stop crying and things are going to seem so far from fine that you’ll probably feel like putting your fist through a wall.”
He started to say something, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m trying to explain to you that you’re going to be all right, you and Daisy both. Trust me on this. When Sonnet was born, Pop fell in love with her the second he held her in his arms. All of a sudden, he wasn’t thinking about what people would say, or how I was going to deal with everything or what sort of life I’d give my child. He just loved her, and knew somehow that would be enough. And to this day, they have a special bond, my pop and Sonnet. She brings him…I don’t know. Some kind of quiet joy he doesn’t get from any of his kids. So what I hope you’ll remember is that even after things fall apart, they fit back together eventually, and you somehow get to the other side of whatever crisis you’re facing, and you’re smiling again. It’s a baby, Greg, not a ball and chain. Sonnet and I were there. Me, having a baby alone, my folks crazy with worry about whether or not we’d be all right. I’m not saying it was easy. But I don’t regret one single second of it.”
He was a listener, she’d give him that. He had this way of listening with every cell of his body—eyes, face, posture—that blew her away. He nodded, seemingly clear on just what he was agreeing to. “Every once in a while, I feel excited at the prospect of having another little kid around the house. One that calls me Gramps before I’ve even turned forty.” He shuddered. “Okay, now I’m scaring myself.”
She knew exactly what he was saying. The irony of the situation struck her. He was living a life Nina had just left behind; he was entering a world of parenting that would consume him with worry, with mirth and frustration, with a spectrum of emotions she clearly remembered. Just hearing him talk about his kids took her back there.
She was supposed to be moving in the other direction. Her active parenting years were done. She was glad to have that phase behind her. At least, that was what she told herself.
Watching him, thinking of what lay ahead for him and his family, she didn’t feel pity. What she felt instead surprised her—envy.
No. That couldn’t be right. No sane person would envy his situation. Here he was, about to become a grandfather before he was done being a father. There was nothing enviable in that. And yet…and yet…
“I guess the thing that freaks me out is the thought of seeing Daisy dealing with a kind of pain I can’t do anything about,” he said.
“Just being there and holding her hand is probably all the help she’ll need.”
“She’s had to go to the emergency room three times in her life, and I wasn’t there for any of them. I have no idea how I’ll be in an emergency.”
“Chances are, there won’t be an emergency. And if there is—does anyone know? We might think we do, but until the situation arises, you can never really predict. Maybe you’re too focused
on the delivery room stuff. That’s just a small part of it. Doesn’t the whole process involve classes spread out over weeks?”
He nodded. “I’m going to be okay with this. I have to be. Also, uh, sorry about bringing this up. I shouldn’t have dumped it on you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t expect you to tell me these things. I know some of them are…pretty personal.”
She felt her cheeks heat. The way he was staring at her now was a little scary. He looked as though he was about to explode. She’d probably offended him. Here’s how I screwed up; maybe Daisy can screw up better. She swallowed, not sure how to respond. He made her feel unsettled and…exposed. He made it impossible not to care about him. “I just wanted to let you know, good things will come of this.”
“I’m counting on it.” His smile was as sexy and slow as a caress.
Nina grabbed the plastic-coated menu. “Are you having dessert?”
“That’s the best part.” They perused the selections, and Greg spoke up again. “You know what else has been bugging me?”
“I have no idea,” she said faintly.
“The kid who fathered Daisy’s baby isn’t someone she wants in her life. He needs to be told, though, he and his family.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and a faraway memory nudged its way into her mind. “Yes, he does.”
“You understand, I have zero compassion for the little rat bastard. I don’t give a shit—or even half a shit—about him. But then I think…I remember…What if Sophie had never told me about Daisy? What if I’d never had a chance to be a father to her? What if, some day, this baby needs a dad the way Daisy needs me? I can’t even get my mind around that.”
The waitress brought dessert—a big wedge of berry pie for Greg, a dish of melon sorbet for Nina.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her to marry some guy just because of the baby,” he said. “A person can only pretend for so long, but eventually the misery catches up with you. I mean, her—Daisy.”
Nina suspected that Greg had just told her the story of his marriage in a nutshell. “Maybe you should explain this to Daisy.”
“No. That wouldn’t be fair. She needs to make up her own mind.”
“She’ll have an easier time doing that if you tell her from the heart what you think.”
“I’m not so sure. Over the past year, dealing with my daughter has been a roller-coaster ride. Can I ask you something personal?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “I can’t promise I’ll answer, but since I just told you my life’s story, you might as well ask.”
“What’s the story with Sonnet’s father? I mean, I know she’s with him now, but…”
Oh, boy, thought Nina. This was her doing. She’d dived right into the conversation. She should have expected the question. “Does it matter to you?”
“I just wonder how you handled it. Sonnet’s father, I mean.”
She folded her arms on the Formica table and looked at him. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Part Eight
Then
Some hotels promise visitors “no surprises,” but you’ll find the Inn at Willow Lake to be a place that is full of them. The walnut-paneled library is lined with bookcases originally brought from Hay-on-Wye, a Welsh town famous for its bookshops. In addition to the surprises found on the shelves, one of the bookcases has a hinged mechanism so that it opens like a door, revealing an intriguing nook behind it.
The library houses a fine collection of books and memorabilia from the early days of Avalon. When an illustrated antique book finally comes apart beyond repair, individual pages can be framed and hung as art prints. While the form changes, the beauty lasts.
Fourteen
There was no ceremony quite so auspicious as graduation from the United States Military Academy. Nina didn’t attend, of course, but as she sat in Veterans Memorial Park in West Point, paging nervously through the schedule of activities in the local paper she’d picked up, there appeared to be no end of meetings, receptions, celebrations and galas. And, of course, the ceremony itself. The front of the journal bore the iconic photograph—a thousand hats flung into the air, sailing against the bright blue sky.
Nina and Jenny had driven down with Sonnet, who had napped through the hour-long trip. Never had Nina been so grateful for Jenny’s friendship. This promised to be one of the most difficult days of Nina’s life, and Jenny insisted on being there to watch Sonnet while Nina met with Laurence. They’d arranged to meet at the local park, which had stately shade trees, manicured grass and a well-equipped playground. As the appointed time drew near, Nina’s nerves wound up to the point of physical pain. She was sitting on a bench by the statue of George Washington Goethals, West Point Class of 1880. He had designed and built the Panama Canal, among other things. Nina had read the commemorative plaque at least a dozen times and currently knew way too much about Colonel Goethals.
“Lookit me, Mamma, lookit!” Sonnet yelled, lurching back and forth on a spring horse while Jenny stood by.
“Wow,” Nina called across the playground, “you’re a cowgirl.” She tried not to sound distracted, but what else could she do? This was her last chance to meet with the father of her child before he got orders and was sent to his first command, possibly overseas. She gripped the edge of the bench she was sitting on to keep herself from bolting. Every instinct she had shrieked at her to flee—just grab Sonnet, strap her into the booster seat in the back of her secondhand Ford LTD and run like hell.
No. She schooled herself to stay where she was. She needed to do this, for Sonnet’s sake. No child should ever be deprived of her father. She was fast approaching the age where she was starting to wonder, and Nina didn’t ever want to lie to her or evade the question.
Restless, Nina couldn’t sit still any longer. She got up and walked over to Jenny and Sonnet.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Nina said to Jenny.
Jenny gave her hand a quick squeeze, putting on a fake-tragic expression. “And to think I gave up a whole day of bookkeeping at the bakery for this.” She cast a fond glance at Sonnet. “She’ll thank you one day. She deserves to know who her father is.”
Nina swallowed hard, nodded briefly. “I…um…couldn’t tell how Laurence felt when I talked to him on the phone. Besides completely shocked, that is. I never really knew him, which is so strange when you think about it, since he completely changed my life.”
“I guess you’ll find out what he thinks pretty soon,” Jenny said. “This is such a gift you are giving Sonnet. At least she’ll know. I’ve spent my life wondering who my father is. Every day I stare into the mirror and try to see him. I look around at men who might have known my mother, and I go crazy wondering. I’ll tell you, my mother might have her reasons for walking away from me when I was little, but the one thing I can never get over is the fact that she never told anyone who my father is.”
Only Nina knew how much Jenny had struggled with the pain of that mystery. It was one of the reasons Nina had finally called Laurence Jeffries and requested this meeting. The other reason came from yet another man Nina barely knew—Greg Bellamy. Seeing him with his little daughter at Willow Lake had reminded Nina that, no matter how hard she worked or how much she loved Sonnet, she could never fill the place of a father in her child’s life. Sonnet would be just fine without a father. She had strong male influences from Nina’s father and brothers, and she seemed to be a naturally sturdy child. Yet Nina didn’t want to take advantage of Sonnet’s nature. She wanted to answer the questions her daughter hadn’t yet asked her, starting now.
The sound of a car door slamming startled Nina.
“Well,” said Jenny with a bright smile. “Sonnet and I will be over there on the seesaw.” She sent a meaningful look over Nina’s shoulder, then hurried away, towing Sonnet by the hand behind her. They joined a laughing, shouting crowd of kids around the jungle gym.
Nina knew what that look meant. She
smoothed her suddenly sweaty hands down her sides, and turned to face him.
Oh, Lord.
How on earth could this be the shy, awkward boy she’d known so briefly—but so thoroughly—four summers ago?
This was a perfectly groomed man in uniform, striding toward her with single-minded purpose. His posture was flawless, his stride purposeful as he approached her. He was commanding, intimidating, compelling—a handsome, storybook prince come to life.
Pierced by his flinty, intense stare, Nina felt her much-prepared speech evaporate. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“Nothing would have kept me from coming.” He stood implacably before her, as stiff and formal as a six-foot GI Joe.
Nina couldn’t tell what this overbearing stance was—a facade of self-confidence or a cover for his quaking fear? She could see him scanning the area, his Terminator gaze seeking a target but not finding one, since the distant playground was overrun by kids of all shapes, sizes and colors.
“Where’s the child?” The barked question rang like a command, the sort designed to intimidate his inferiors.
Nina laughed briefly, and she could tell from his reaction that he wasn’t used to getting this particular response. “You don’t need to do this,” she stated, oddly feeling less threatened now. “And furthermore, you can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Intimidate me. Or bully me, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m not—”
“I gave birth in an ambulance without anaesthesia. I’ve raised a kid on my own for three years while holding a job and going to school, so by now, nothing can intimidate me. Certainly not you.”
He glared at her, stone-faced. “That wasn’t my intent.”
He even spoke differently now, in clipped, articulated imperatives. Nina refused to flinch. “I’m doing this as a courtesy to you and because it’s something Sonnet deserves to know about herself. But if you think for one minute I’ll tolerate you acting all GI Joe around her, you’re dead wrong.”
