“Of course I understand.”
“You do?”
I’m beginning to think he really knows nothing personal about me at all. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. It wouldn’t be like Father Laurent to talk about other people to other people for no other purpose than just spreading news. “Well, yes, I do. You don’t owe me an apology, Ramsey.”
He seems to relax a bit. “No, I do. I’m really trying to work past this. But I need to mend the fences along the way. Especially the ones I break myself.”
I smile. “That sounds like something your father would say.”
He smiles back. “He did.”
My smile fades a little as I consider that maybe he was told to come and ask my pardon. “Did your father send you up here to tell me you’re sorry?”
Surprise floods his face. “No. Not all. It’s just been bothering me, that’s all.”
“Well, I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I do understand what it’s like to be hurt. You don’t have to explain anything.”
He looks down, like he doesn’t want to make eye contact for a moment. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that I know he was the one who was walked out on.
Omigosh. I shouldn’t have.
I’m a dunce.
“Ramsey, I’m sorry.”
He looks up again and it’s like his face has aged a little in the moments he looked away from me. “So how much do you know?”
I swallow. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“Did my father tell you what happened?”
“I… Well, see before you came home from Tokyo and Liam spent his weekends here, your ex-wife would just honk for him on the street, which I thought was rude, and one day Liam didn’t want to go when she was coming for him and he said it was because he didn’t want to hear Allegra’s howling and I thought he was talking about his mother’s dog or something and Liam said no, it was his baby sister. And then Liam left and I turned to your father and said how shocked I was that there was a baby already and Father Laurent said the baby was—”
I shut my mouth as Ramsey turns his head away.
I’m a super dunce. I can feel my face turning a thousand shades of red. Why didn’t I just shut-up? Harriet, where were you? Lord, help me make this right. “Ramsey, please forgive me. I’m an idiot. Please?”
He turns his head slowly around to face me again. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Please don’t be angry at your dad for explaining how those two could have had a baby so soon. I practically asked.”
“What’s to explain? It’s not hard to do the math. Anyone can figure it out. Even Liam knows.”
Again my face floods with hot embarrassment. His voice sounds so detached. If I didn’t know any better I’d say L’Raine was nearby insisting I weep for this man: my eyes are stinging. Ramsey must see the tears rimming my eyes. The expression on his face has just now changed from vague to perplexed.
“It’s none of my business,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
He says nothing. I shake my head and blink back the tears and he just stands there looking at me. Transfixed, almost. He is wondering why on earth I would be so affected by what happened to him. He doesn’t know I live with rejection, just like he does. Every day. All day.
A drop falls on my forehead and I reach up to touch it. Another one falls.
The rain has started.
“Guess I won’t get to that design this morning after all,” he says.
“There’s no rush.”
We stand there for a moment as the rain begins in earnest. Then we silently head to the stairs that lead to third floor roof access. By the time we are back inside the rain has begun to pour down upon The Finland, the drumming on the roof sounding like a million tapping feet.
Forty
Dear Harriet,
You’ve never said anything you’ve regretted so you probably can’t begin to understand how bad I feel about my diarrhea of the mouth up on the roof today. It would’ve been nice if you had come to my rescue and saved me from the embarrassment of reminding Ramsey that his wife left him for another man—a man whose she child she was already carrying. I can’t believe I just went on and on like that.
And then when I nearly started crying. You should’ve seen Ramsey’s face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man more bewildered.
Actually, I’m the bewildered one. Ramsey told me today, before I threw his misery up in his face, that his father thinks the world of me. Don’t you find that odd? Father Laurent is my anchor in the raging water, my beacon in the dark. I can’t understand what I could possibly be to him other than an off-and-on annoyance. And then that he would convey such a thing to his son. How could Ramsey know his dad thinks so highly of me unless Father Laurent said something to that effect? It floors me.
I don’t think Ramsey knows Daniel left me. He surely must know I’ve been engaged, that I opened Something Blue because I had a wedding dress to sell. But I don’t think he knows it was my fiancé who called off the wedding, broke the engagement, told me he didn’t really love me and sent me spiraling to places I’d never been before.
Ramsey was certain I wouldn’t understand how reluctant he is to get back into having a social life. That can only mean one thing. He thinks I called off my wedding. Or that it was a joint decision between Daniel and me.
I need to know what Father Laurent told him. And what he hasn’t.
And don’t ask me why I need to know. I just do.
P.S. Shelby brought Eric to the store today so that I could meet him. He’s a very nice guy. Doesn’t look a thing like the gym teacher on Runaway Bride. She looked so happy standing there next to him. And I could tell he dotes on her. It’s amazing, really, what can happen to you when you’re just going about the business of explaining to junior-highers the digestive system of frogs and toads.
Dear Daisy,
There’s a perfectly good reason why you blurted out what you did in front of Ramsey today. I hadn’t disappeared; you just didn’t stop to consult me. And I’m not one to interrupt. If you had just taken a moment to consider what you really wanted to say, it probably would’ve come out differently. But you live your life in the real world and thinking on the fly is how you live it. You can’t pause time in the middle of a conversation and consider your response options. Your dad would tell you to file this experience away for future reference so that the next time you are up against a tide of emotions, you won’t speak before you think.
And I’ve no need to ask why you must know what Father Laurent told Ramsey about you. I know perfectly well why it matters to you.
And so do you.
Harriet
Forty-one
The drawing in front of me lies across my desk atop bridal magazines and eBay printouts. It is a schematic of what The Finland’s green roof will look like. Ramsey is pointing out all the features that Reuben will surely want to know about; how the vegetation will absorb rain water and slowly discharge it as manageable run-off, how it will ease the urban “heat island” affect around the building, that it will contain a lovely collection of sedum species, plus pathways for easy-access maintenance. Etched in the drawing are plant names like aster novae-angliae, monarda didyma, perovskia atriplicifolia, and phlox paniculata David. The names are enchanting.
He pauses for a moment. “So what do you think?”
“It looks wonderful. But I’m afraid I don’t know what these names mean. And what’s a sedum?”
“Sedums are a diverse group of plants. They’re hearty, drought-resistant and easy to care for. And they’re sustainable through the changing seasons. Sometimes they’re called stonecrops. Most green roofs have them.”
“And these Latin names?”
“Well, phlox paniculata David does very well on green roofs.” Ramsey speaks like he and the phlox are old friends. “It was once named the Perennial of the Year. It’s an erect perennial, grows to about three
feet tall. Has fragrant white blossoms in its blooming season, which is quite long.”
“Sounds pretty.”
“It’s a nice shrub.”
A nice shrub.
I point to a row of Aster novae-angliae. “And what are these?”
Ramsey follows my finger with his eyes. “Those are sometimes called Purple Domes. The blooms are a nice shade of lavender. Asters are rather daisy-like in appearance. You’ll like them.”
For some reason that makes me smile. “And these?” I point to Perovskia atriplicifolia.
“Those are rather unique. The foliage is greenish-gray until early to mid-summer when the stems produce delicate purple flowers. They’re very aromatic.”
I let my gaze wander around the design, following the footpaths with my eyes. I see a little open area with two rectangular shapes. “And what are these?”
Ramsey peers at the drawing and then draws back a little. “Those are your Adirondack chairs.”
He says it so softly, tenderly even. Not at all like, “It’s a nice shrub.”
I sneak a look at him and he looks away from me. “I love it,” I tell him. “Reuben’s going to love it, too.”
Ramsey clears his throat. “So we’re ready to send it then?”
“The cost per square foot is somewhere on here, right?”
“Yes. Right there in the lower left-hand corner. I’m estimating about twenty-two dollars a square foot. And that includes the growing medium, all the vegetation, a simple drip irrigation system, and the first six months maintenance. It covers the permits, too.”
“Six months maintenance?”
He looks up at me. “That means for the first six months I will stop in once a month to make sure everything is taking root and thriving. If you want to contract me for additional yearly maintenance we can do that. Or I can teach Mario how to take care of it.”
“Okay. So how long will it take to complete?” I keep my eyes on the drawing. I’m almost afraid of the answer.
“Once I have the permits, it will take a week, weather permitting.”
Just a week.
“And how long will it take to get the permits?” I ask.
“A week or two. Maybe three.”
I’m not entirely sure what this means for Father Laurent. For me. In a month’s time Father Laurent will just be beginning treatment for his cancer. Just beginning it. And that’s assuming he recovers well from his heart attack.
“So what does that mean, exactly?” I ask. “For your dad?”
Ramsey leans back in his chair across from my desk. “Well, I can see that my father likes it here. And that you all treat him like family. I appreciate that. But I think it’s best we take it one day at a time.”
I can’t keep a tiny pout from spreading across my face. I’d rather he had said Father Laurent can stay as long as he wants.
“Actually,” he continues, “I’ve been thinking about how the green roof I’ll be creating here will help me get my own business off the ground. I can use it as a prototype for promoting my business here in the Twin Cities. If… if that’s okay with you.”
I’m not entirely sure what he’s asking of me but if it just means Father Laurent won’t have to hurry through his cancer treatments, that’s fine with me.
“Of course. I didn’t know you were starting your own business.” I don’t recall Liam or Father Laurent mentioning this.
He pauses, like he’s hesitant to share anything about his personal life. “I’ve been putting together a business plan. It’s just a one-man enterprise at the moment. I wanted to put it in place when I got back from Tokyo. I’m… I’m just not as fond of traveling as I used to be. Consulting had me on the road all the time. I didn’t mind so much right after the divorce, but I’ve missed Liam. And my dad.”
“And they’ve missed you.”
It seems to suddenly occur to him that he has just spoken of deeply private matters. A look of alarm seems to pass across his face. “So do you want to fax that?” he says abruptly.
“Um. Sure.” I slip the drawing into my fax machine and press Reuben’s speed dial. Ramsey appears restless as he waits for the machine to be finished with his drawing. When at last the sketch appears in the exit tray, he snatches it up. “Okay. So, thanks.” He practically bolts for the door.
I wait until I know that Ramsey and Liam have left the building before I head up the stairs to the apartments above Something Blue. It’s been several days since I’ve had any time alone with Father Laurent. And I simply must talk with him.
His voice calls me in when I knock. I find him seated at his computer playing computer chess.
“Daisy!”
“Hello, Father Laurent.”
“So how are you?”
“Well, isn’t that what I should be asking you?”
“I’m doing fine, really.” He stands. “Want a cup of tea?”
“Let me make it, Father.”
“Nonsense.” He and his slippered feet head for the kitchen. I follow.
“So.” He grabs a kettle and fills it with tap water. “Tell me how things are with you.”
“They’re okay, Father.”
He places the kettle on his stove and turns a dial. Then he turns to me. “We can just sit in here.” He motions to his little kitchen table. We each take a chair.
“I met Shelby’s new boyfriend.” I fiddle with his saltshaker.
“Oh?”
“He seems like a great guy. And I can see that she really likes him. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Shelby so happy.”
“Well, I’m sure that makes you happy.”
“It does.”
We are silent for a moment.
“Father, does Ramsey know about Daniel?”
He looks very surprised that I asked. “Do you mean did I tell Ramsey about Daniel?”
“Yes. No. I… I don’t know what I mean.”
He smiles. “What happened between you and Daniel is your story to tell, if you choose to tell it. So, no—I have not spoken to Ramsey about Daniel.”
“Can you tell me what you have told him about me?”
Father Laurent looks very amused. “What’s all this about?”
I pull my hand away from the saltshaker and knock it over. I hastily set it upright again. “I just get the impression that he thinks I have it all together, Father. Ramsey said he didn’t think I was the kind of person who would understand what it’s like to want to protect yourself from getting hurt. I just find that very funny. If he knew me, he wouldn’t have said such a thing.”
“I have told him you are a lovely person inside and out, that you care very deeply for the people in your life, that you are very creative, full of ideas and one of the kindest people I know.”
He is smiling the whole time he’s saying this. I drop my head into my hands on propped elbows and moan. I’m not used to hearing such nice things said about me. I hate the idea that it sounded like I was fishing for them.
The kettle begins to whine and Father Laurent stands up. I raise my head and watch as he places tea bags in mugs, fills them with steaming water and brings them to the table. He sets mine down in front of me. I just stare at it.
“Daisy.”
I look up.
“I do think you’re one of the kindest people I know.”
For a moment I say nothing. Then I blurt out my latest confession. “I wanted you to remain at The Finland so you could keep giving me advice and blessing my little blue hearts.”
He smiles. “You know that’s not the only reason.”
I feel a tightness in my throat. “Yeah, well, it’s one of the big ones.”
Father Laurent leans forward. “But surely you know those are also my reasons for staying. I love living here. You are all like family to me. It’s very reassuring for a retired priest like me to be needed. I belong here. Just like you do.”
I don’t know how he does it, but Father Laurent always makes me feel worthy of love when I’m around him.
“Wildly so.”
I lift my tea bag in and out of my cup to release its flavor. Another question occurs to me. “So does Ramsey know why I opened Something Blue?”
“I really don’t know what Ramsey knows about Something Blue, Daisy. He hasn’t asked me about it. And I haven’t told him there’s a dress down there that’s yours, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say he probably thinks you came up with a very clever idea for marketing second-hand wedding gowns. It’s a great idea, you know.”
He winks at me.
“Wildly so,” I weakly wink back.
The rest of the month of June is passing in an almost tedious fashion. Ramsey can’t start on the roof until the permits come through, so he and Liam are spending their days playing Monopoly with Father Laurent, taking him to his doctors’ appointments and dodging me. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Father Laurent always seems glad to see me, and Liam gets bored often enough to want to come down to the store now and then for diversion, but I don’t think Ramsey likes being around women. He avoids me.
He’s way worse off than I am. I know I’ve put off dating other people—even meeting other people—since Daniel dumped me but I haven’t sworn off the entire male population. Ramsey’s an attractive man. He could start dating again if he wanted to. It’s like he’s given up on women completely.
At least that’s what it seems like to me.
And I have to say, he may like it this way, but he sure doesn’t look very happy.
I don’t want to be like that. The next time Marshall Mitchell comes through the door I’m going to ask him myself if he’d like to go have a cup of coffee. He came by here a few days ago, while I was at an Uptown retailers meeting. Mom told me he said he’d try back again sometime. She didn’t seem too excited that he stopped by, which surprises me. I would’ve guessed she’d call me in the middle of the meeting to tell me he was there. But she didn’t. It’s like she’s having second thoughts about him, which doesn’t make sense at all. It was her idea in the first place that I meet him.
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