What on earth did Ramsey mean by, “You did nothing to me?” Who did I offend if it wasn’t him? I can’t believe having his forgiveness means so much to me.
I’m watching Father of the Bride, but I’m going to turn it off.
I miss my Dad.
Dear Daisy,
There is no way to know what Ramsey meant by what he said unless you ask him. I doubt that it means whatever you did doesn’t matter to him personally. It’s hard to be mad at someone whose actions mean nothing to you.
I know you miss your dad.
Harriet
Fifty-two
Reuben arrived a little before eleven in a rented black Lexus. He’s looking well. His first order of business was to say hello to my mother.
They embraced like two long-lost friends. He told her how beautiful she looks. She told him he needs bifocals. They laughed.
Then he turned to me. “Daisy, I caught a glance of the roof from the street and I can’t wait to see it. Where’s the architect?”
I had to tell Reuben that the architect went home to Duluth.
“What for? Didn’t you tell him I’d be getting a hotel room?”
“Yes, Reuben. I told him.”
“Well, call him up. Tell him to come back down here. I want to meet him. I’ve got some buildings on the East Coast I want to talk to him about. See if he can come back tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got some business to take care of in the morning.”
I took Reuben up to see the rooftop and he was genuinely amazed. Mom and L’Raine came up with us. Father Laurent wanted to join us, too, but was feeling woozy. He asked me to stop by later.
I know what he’ll want to talk about.
After being completely wowed by the roof, Reuben invited my mom, L’Raine and me out to lunch.
L’Raine declined.
I don’t have much of an appetite.
So my mom and Reuben left. That was fifteen minutes ago. I am sitting now at my desk contemplating the phone call I must make to Ramsey. L’Raine has gone up to check on Father Laurent and make him lunch. The sales floor is quiet.
I pick up the phone.
I wonder if Ramsey has found the little blue heart in his toolbox.
I press the numbers to his cell phone.
It rings and I tell myself to breathe normally.
When I’m connected to his voice mail, I’m alternately relieved and disappointed. I clear my throat to leave a message:
“Hello, Ramsey. It’s Daisy. Reuben Tarter, the owner of the building, is here and he wants to meet you. He really likes the garden and he wants to talk with you about some buildings he owns on the East Coast. Um, he wants to know if you can come by tomorrow afternoon. Hope that works okay for you. You can stay here overnight if you want. Reuben’s got a hotel room downtown. Well. Bye.”
Click.
That’s that.
I stand up and head back out onto the sales floor. My eyes are drawn to the display window where my wedding dress hangs on a headless mannequin.
On impulse, I walk over to it and touch the billowing skirt. It makes a tiny shushing sound. The woman who made this dress died three months after I was supposed to get married. It was the last dress she made. She was seventy-eight. She told me once that she had made more than a hundred-and-fifty wedding dresses in her years as a dressmaker. And that mine had been her favorite.
Her favorite.
The little bell attached to the front door rings and I turn away from the dress I know I will never wear.
Ramsey never returns my call. I guess I’m not surprised. Reuben assumes that since he hasn’t called back by the end of the business day to say he can’t come, that means he will.
“Let’s go Italian for dinner, shall we?” Reuben announces just as I’m closing the store.
“I’m up for it,” Mom answers. “How about you, L’Raine?”
“Well, should we leave Miles alone?” L’Raine asks.
I really don’t want to go out. I offer to make something for Father Laurent’s supper.
“We won’t be gone long,” Mom assures me as they head out the front door. I lock it behind them and turn out the lights.
I had been up earlier in the day to see Father Laurent but he had been sleeping. I know he wants to know how I left things with Ramsey. I feel kind of sad that I have so little to tell him.
I lightly tap on his front door and wait for him to call me in. He’s at his computer, which is a good sign.
“Feeling better?” I ask.
“Oh, not too bad. As long as I don’t move around too much, I’m okay, I think.”
“Well, I’m your dinner date tonight, Father. Mom and L’Raine went out to eat with Reuben.”
“I’m not terribly hungry, Daisy.” He sits back in his computer chair.
“How about just some pancakes, then?”
“All right.”
As I busy myself with Bisquick and a griddle, Father Laurent makes his way slowly into the kitchen and sits down at the table. He doesn’t ask about Ramsey. He asks about me.
“Are you all right, Daisy?”
“Oh, as long as I don’t move around too much, I’m okay.”
He smiles at my little joke.
“You know, I have to constantly remind myself that there is a love that is perfect, undying and that never disappoints,” he says.
I whisk the batter with a wooden spoon, churning the lumps of powder into smooth conformity.
“Sure. Father. And where do we find that?” I don’t mean to sound cynical. I hope it doesn’t sound that way. It’s an honest question.
“I’ve already told you. You already possess it. You’ve forgotten, Daisy!” Father Laurent leans forward in his chair. “It’s the love God gives you to give away. Don’t tell me you’ve lost that little blue heart I gave you?”
I stop my stirring and a little mirthless laugh escapes me.
“I haven’t lost it, Father. I just don’t have it anymore.”
“You don’t?” He is adequately surprised.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, where is it?”
“I snuck it inside Ramsey’s toolbox the day he left.”
Father Laurent sits back in his chair, wordless.
I awake on the morning of my thirtieth birthday with a slight headache. I try to chase it away with a strong pot of coffee, but it doesn’t want to leave.
Max stops by on his way to work to wish me a happy birthday and to give me a present: a hummingbird feeder for the new and improved roof.
When I get downstairs to Something Blue, Mom and L’Raine have decorated my desk with streamers and placed balloon heads on all the headless mannequins. The balloons have all been painted with smiling faces. They all look like they’re lottery winners.
Shelby arrives minutes later with a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and an offer I can’t refuse: a day out with her on Nicollet Mall where we can shop and eat and stroll to our heart’s content.
It’s a nice way to spend my birthday and gets me out of The Finland and my monotonous life.
We leave a little before ten in the morning and we don’t return until after four o’clock. Ramsey has been by already to talk with Reuben about the green roof and other projects Reuben has in mind.
My mother makes it a point to tell me he seemed like he was looking for me.
I find that a little hard to believe.
She also tells me Ramsey said he has some appointments in Minneapolis but that he wants to swing by later to check on his dad before he heads back to Duluth.
I will probably miss that appearance, too, since we are all headed to Ping’s for my birthday. All of us except for L’Raine. She has offered to stay behind with Father Laurent, though he fussed about this. I’ll bring them home all the leftovers.
Dinner is wonderful, the food that is. So is the company. Really, it is. Reuben can be quite funny. He’s been everywhere and has a story to tell about every place he’s been. And I think he’s finally winning my mot
her’s heart after all these years. I can’t say that I blame my mother for showing interest in Reuben. Dad has been gone nearly five years. It’s actually a treat to see the two of them having so much fun together. For some reason it doesn’t grate against me that she is finally yielding to Reuben’s affections. I think my father, if he could do so, would approve. I don’t think he would want my mother to spend the rest of her earthly days alone. That’s the kind of man he was.
We get back to The Finland a little before nine.
Ramsey’s car is in the parking lot.
While everyone else heads upstairs or home, I make my way to Something Blue, where my newly invented life began and is still beginning.
I won’t run into Ramsey there. I can spend the last few hours of my thirtieth birthday in the quiet solitude of my boutique.
It’s a tad spooky fiddling around in the store in semi-darkness. I have only a few lights on so as not to attract attention from the street and my mannequins still have their merry balloon heads taped to their necks. They look a little eerie.
To calm myself, I begin to hum some of my dad’s favorite songs. I am straightening gowns on their hangers and am halfway through “Someone to Watch Over Me” when I hear a noise from behind. I whip around to see Ramsey walking toward me.
“Ramsey.”
He stops when he’s a few feet from me. He holds out his hand, palm up. A little blue heart rests there.
“Is this yours?”
That niggling headache I had earlier rushes to the front of my skull. I stare at the little heart while my pulse does a little dance in my veins. “Not anymore.”
“You put it in my toolbox?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Pounding head, pounding pulse, pounding, pounding.
“Because I wanted you to have it.”
Ramsey just stands there with the little heart on his open palm and says nothing.
“I know you told me I did nothing to offend you, but I’m not stupid, Ramsey. I know I’ve disappointed you in some terrible way. And I wanted you to know I was sorry. I’d like your forgiveness, too, if that’s not too much to ask. I really am very, very sorry.”
His eyes stay on mine. I try very hard not to look away. “You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, do you?”
Now I am the one just standing here, saying nothing. I don’t know what to say.
“Do you ever think about you’re doing, Daisy? Do you ever stop and think about the people who will be affected by what you do? Do you honestly think you can do whatever you want, regardless of how it will affect other people?”
Dazed and confused doesn’t begin to describe me. I am speechless. I manage to whisper a single question. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about people who take great risks in loving other people. How can you so easily cheapen what that means?”
Words fail me. It’s like I am Kristen. Like every woman is Kristen. “Ramsey, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
His countenance falls as he looks at me. The angry edge fades away. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”
Ramsey places the little blue heart on the show table to his right, turns and walks away.
The door closes softly behind him and I can do nothing but stand there in a sea of wedding dresses, staring at my little blue heart on the table.
Fifty-three
Dear Harriet,
I should be mad. I should be upset.
I should be indignant.
But I’m not any of those things. Honestly, I am sitting here in my apartment in the middle of the night, awake, unable to sleep, and what I am feeling is longing. I long for Ramsey. I long for him to be at peace.
Am I insane?
Is it completely unreasonable that all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and hold him until it stops? Until the hurt inside him stops?
Tell me, tell me I am not being unreasonable.
I ache for him to be free of what holds him.
He has somehow misunderstood me completely. I’ve no idea how to make him understand. And his words cut me deep.
And yet I ache for him.
Tell me I’m not crazy.
Dear Daisy,
You are not crazy.
You just love him, warts and all.
And that kind of love is the most reasonable thing there is.
Harriet
Fifty-four
Wendy and Philip have returned from the Boundary Waters. They came in late last night. I actually heard them on the stairs at two in the morning. Not because they were being noisy but because I was awake.
It’s a little after nine now and Wendy is in my office to tell me she hears the noises again in her bathroom. She doesn’t look particularly well.
“You’re home early. Are you okay?”
“No, I must be coming down with something. I feel rotten. So are you going to come listen to this noise, Daisy? I heard it just now.”
“Actually, Max heard it, too, while you were gone. He brought me up to his place for a listen. And I did hear it in his bathroom. We think it might be bats in between the walls.”
“Bats! I hate bats!”
“Yes, but they’re in between the walls. They’re not exactly inside your apartment.”
“Well, they may as well be!”
“Mario is looking into it, okay? He’s trying to find out where they’re getting in. When he does, he’ll plug it up.”
“How long will that take?”
“I really don’t know, Wendy. I’m sure it won’t take long.”
“All right, I guess.”
“You should go take a peek at the garden on the roof, Wendy. Ramsey finished it. It’s just lovely.”
“Maybe later. I don’t feel that great.”
She turns and heads out of my office. Just the mention of the garden fills me with a yearning to head to the roof and absorb its beauty into my weary body.
The sleepless night is tugging at me, and it is only a little after nine.
Mom is ready to open the store when I tell her I am going to get another cup of coffee from my apartment and a few rays of sunshine from my roof.
She waves at me.
A few minutes later, cup in hand, I head to third floor. Ramsey stayed here last night at Reuben’s request. Mom told me this morning that Reuben is taking Ramsey to meet some friends here in the Twin Cities who also own downtown property. He’s got several business acquaintances who are interested in Ramsey’s green roofs. It could turn out to be a very profitable few days for Ramsey. I’m happy for him, of course.
I’m surprisingly not afraid to go the third floor. I’m not afraid of running into Ramsey, but I hope I don’t. I have no idea what I will say to him if I do. It seems like whenever I open my mouth, I say the wrong thing. When I pass the door to the apartment where he is staying, I run my hand across the door in a silent prayer for him. And for me.
The morning sun on the roof is exuberant and my Adirondack chairs are warm to the touch. I ease down into one and drink in the splendor around me. The little blue heart is back in my pocket where I guess it belongs.
A bird chirps nearby. The fragrance of soft blooms scents the air. I can nearly smell the color green. This will be the one lovely moment of my day, I’m sure of that.
At least there will be this.
It is not easy to stay focused on wedding dresses today. Not easy by a long shot. Ramsey and Reuben are gone most of the morning and into the afternoon. I don’t actually see either one of them. Ramsey, I’m sure, won’t step into Something Blue unless he absolutely has to. And Reuben isn’t exactly staying at The Finland. Sometime before five, L’Raine comes back down to the store after checking on Father Laurent and tells me Ramsey has returned and that my Mom has left to go have dinner with Reuben. L’Raine gives me a concerned look.
“Daisy, you look so tired. Let me close up the store, dear. You look absolutely bushed.”
“Do I?”
/>
“Yes, you do. Go.”
She shoos me away and I don’t argue with her. I head up the stairs with not much spring in my step.
I put a kettle on when I get to my apartment and change into a pink cotton sundress that makes me feel feminine and lovely when I wear it.
I want to keep a positive attitude about the ways things have transpired but I can feel the loneliness creeping in. Max has Bettina. Shelby has Eric. Wendy has Philip. Mario has Rosalina. I’m beginning to think Mom has Reuben.
I turn the kettle off. I don’t want tea. I don’t know what I want.
God, speak to me. Speak to me.
I lean against the wall to my kitchen and close my eyes waiting for my Deliverer. Seconds later I hear the sound of music. Violin and piano. I recognize the tune at once and it feels me with longing. It’s from Handel’s Messiah. “He Shall Feed His Flock Like a Shepherd.” My dad loved this one. It was always his favorite piece of the entire oratorio, so it was always mine, too. The mere sound of these notes traveling through my head and heart fill me with memories both tender and bittersweet. It is almost like the sound of an answered prayer.
I open my front door and the music weaves its way in. I step out and follow its source to the third floor. Solomon’s door is open and the music is flowing out of it. I tiptoe in as if under a spell. Wendy and Philip are sitting on Solomon’s couch, drawn from next door by the beauty of the music. Father Laurent is there, too.
Ramsey is at the piano. Solomon is standing next to him, his violin playing the alto solo line. It’s so beautiful…
Father Laurent sees me come in but I’m barely aware that he has noticed. I lean back against the wall of Solomon’s living room and I let the music fall across me. I hear the words that no one is singing. Such beautiful words…
Come unto Him all ye that labour
Come unto Him, ye that are heavy laden
And He will give you rest.
Take His yoke upon you and learn of Him
Blue Heart Blessed Page 23
