by Susan Wiggs
Greg had watched his son being born, he’d cried the moment it happened, but a part of him had dwelled in blissful ignorance. Coming here once a week with Daisy was quite a different experience. He found himself focusing on all the things that might go wrong—a compressed cord, abnormal presentation, bleeding, infection…His head was filled with all the terrors in the world, and he had to act as though everything was going to be fine.
“Since this is the last class in this cycle, let’s review final-stage labor and delivery,” Barbara said, her brisk tone and downstate accent belying her mellow exterior. She put a list up on the screen. “Let’s focus on pushing….”
Greg had a hard time focusing, period, even when Barbara moved on to topics such as bringing the baby home. With each passing day, the idea that Daisy was going to give birth became more and more real to him. The notion of a baby in the house—a new baby boy—was overwhelming.
This is going to be so cool, he thought.
Daisy caught a glimpse of herself in the window of the store where they’d stopped on the way home from class. As always, the image startled her. I’m a linebacker, she thought, studying her pudgy face and neck, her thick legs and ankles under a sundress the size of a circus tent.
“Are you all right, honey?” her mom asked, taking her hand.
I was until a second ago. Daisy didn’t say so aloud, but damn. It was bad enough looking at all the weight she’d put on. When her mother—her gorgeous, perfect, skinny mother—stood next to her, it made Daisy look like a parade float.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”
She observed her parents acting like polite strangers, and it made her incredibly sad. The thing about this divorce was, there was no villain. Just two people who couldn’t live together anymore, no matter what. Although nearly a year had passed since the family had shattered apart, Daisy still felt the occasional sting of pain. Maybe she always would. She still felt pretty bad about the way it had worked out for her mom. Last fall, when all the broken pieces were making a landing, there had been endless discussions—okay, fights—about where Daisy and Max would go and who would be in charge and what was best for the kids. Mom had wanted Max and Daisy with her, of course. Since the mother was almost always the default custodial parent, it was decided that they’d go with her.
But there was a catch. Mom was saving the world. More specifically, she was saving a small principality in southern Africa, prosecuting a warlord for crimes against humanity. People would live or die depending on the outcome of the case. So in order for Mom to continue her work, she had to live in The Hague, home of the International Criminal Court. She’d had a school all picked out for Max and Daisy, an international school any kid should feel privileged to attend. It should have been simple—a divorce, the kids go with Mom. Happened every day.
Disaster. Max had lasted mere days in the hostile environment before total meltdown; Daisy hadn’t gone much longer, getting violently ill. Later, of course, they would all figure out that it was the pregnancy. Daisy was still haunted by the look on her mom’s face when she and Max said they wanted—needed—to live with their dad and move to Avalon. The Bellamy family had a long, distinguished history in the town. It was a safe place to adjust to the changes in their lives. And Mom, usually such a fighter, spent hours in consultation with their family therapist, and then said she understood. Given the trauma of the divorce, she didn’t want to make things worse by forcing her kids to live an ocean away in a world of strangers. But neither could she turn her back on the case to which she’d devoted herself, even though she said she would.
Daisy could still remember the tremor in her mom’s voice when she said, “I’ll stay in the States with you guys.” Both Daisy and Max recognized her turmoil.
And both Daisy and Max knew it would never work, their mother trying to turn her back on her mission. Daisy, in a moment of cruelty that still shamed her, did her part by telling Mom it was pointless for her to move back to the States when they wanted to live with their dad, anyway.
So Mom made the transatlantic flight to see them every few weeks, grimly racking up the frequent flyer points. The visits were often strained and forced, weighed down by her mom’s guilt, Max’s hurt and Daisy’s defiance. Max had gone to visit Mom a few times, but not Daisy, although the invitation remained open. Cynically, Daisy figured the fact that her kids went with their dad after the divorce seriously messed with Mom’s constant struggle to be perfect—the perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect international jet-setting lawyer saving the world. The thing her mom finally had to accept was that she couldn’t be perfect at everything. Just some things.
But that didn’t stop her from trying to be the perfect grandmother, which was the primary reason for the current outing.
The store was called New Beginnings, and it billed itself as one-stop shopping for expectant parents. Daisy already had the basics—crib, carseat, carrier—and her cousins had given her a shower worthy of a royal princess, but her mother had insisted on getting the layette. Daisy figured, why the heck not? Her mom was dying to do something, and she was better at shopping than anyone Daisy knew.
Walking between her parents, Daisy felt a brief, false flash of security that took her back to childhood days when things were so much simpler. After her parents had first separated, Daisy had entertained the idea that maybe they’d change their minds, get back together. She knew better now, though. But not Max. He still lived for the fantasy that his parents would reconcile. Pretty soon, Max would know what their mom had figured out a long time ago. A reconciliation was no longer an option. That train had left the station.
Daisy knew that what she had suspected for a while, what she’d hoped for, had come true. Dad was with Nina. A couple of nights ago, Daisy had gotten up for the hundred-and-seventy-fourth bathroom break and she’d heard a noise. It was her dad, coming in the back door at like 4:00 a.m. He’d told her he heard raccoons in the trash.
Yeah, right.
She saw a salesclerk eyeing the three of them. The clerk was probably trying to figure out what the deal was. Her parents didn’t look anything like grandparents-to-be. An observer might think they were adoptive parents, and that Daisy was going to give them her baby.
Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. The family-planning counselor encouraged her to explore adoption, including intra-family. Daisy had done so, gamely entertaining the notion for, oh, say, ten seconds before concluding that it wouldn’t work. It was one of the few choices in this ordeal that she’d found easy. Early on, she’d contemplated terminating the pregnancy, but she couldn’t do it. Then, once she committed to keeping the baby, she was determined to keep the baby.
She wished she could experience an indisputable, firm conviction about her future, a feeling so strong she heard music playing in her head, the way girls did in made-for-TV movies. No such luck. Sure, she’d made the decision and she was going to stick by it, but that didn’t mean she knew what the hell she was doing.
She’d been trying to figure out a way to tell her parents that Logan O’Donnell had refused to surrender all parental rights. He’d shown up out of the blue, and his reaction to the situation had been completely unexpected. He not only refused to accept her terms, but he’d put forth some terms of his own. Which, of course, she’d refused to consider. So they were at an impasse, and Daisy didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t ready to discuss any of this with her parents.
There was one topic she needed to talk to them about, though. Her future. Still, she kept putting it off, certain her dad would blow a gasket when he heard what she was planning.
Her mom held up a sailor suit the size of a Cabbage Patch doll. “What do you think?”
“Adorable,” Daisy said. Maybe it was hormones, but just the sight of baby clothes made her feel all soft and mushy inside.
“So we’re liking the sailor theme?” Mom asked.
“Sure,” said Daisy.
Her dad was checking out crib mobiles and seemed sold
on the golf-themed model. The tension between her mom and dad hummed like an incoming storm. Daisy felt stretched between them like one of those rubber-armed tug-of-war dolls. Why had she thought coming here together was a good idea?
Because, married or not, they were her parents. They were Emile’s grandparents. They’d better get used to the idea.
Twenty-Five
I t was the night before Olivia’s wedding, and Nina felt almost giddy with contentment, because Sonnet was home at last. Nina, Sonnet and Daisy sat on the raised deck of the boathouse, drinking iced tea and enjoying the balmy evening. The heat wave had subsided, a small mercy Nina no longer took for granted. She’d been wondering if the torrid heat had anything to do with her borderline-insane feelings for Greg. Now that the temperature had cooled a bit, she realized the weather had nothing to do with it. She was still crazy about him. She’d tried so hard to deny it, to avoid getting attached to a man whose life was complicated.
The trouble was, Nina had discovered that she liked complications.
Willfully, she shifted her focus to her daughter. She’d need to say something to Sonnet, and soon. First, though, she had to figure out what to say.
For now, she contented herself with sipping tea and watching the two girls, best friends who reminded her of herself and Jenny Majesky, years ago, two young women who loved and trusted one another. Jet-lagged, Sonnet was struggling to stay awake, stretched out on the chaise longue. Each girl was on the verge of a major life step. Sonnet was about to start college, Daisy about to give birth. Both shone with a combination of youth, foolishness, fear and excitement. Teenagers, Nina reflected, were the idiot savants of the human race, so smart in some ways, completely clueless in others.
“So anyway,” Daisy was saying, “I can’t wait for you to meet him.” She was talking to Sonnet about Julian Gastineaux, one of her favorite topics. “I know I sent pictures, but in person, he’s even more amazing.”
“What did you tell him about me?” Sonnet asked.
“That you’re disgustingly perfect but not to hold that against you,” Daisy said.
“Right,” Sonnet said, “me, perfect.”
“Total prodigy, straight-A student, and look at all the stuff you did on your internship this summer. You’re an international woman of mystery.”
Sonnet yawned. “Not buying it. I sound totally boring.”
“So did you meet any guys?”
“Hello, it’s a military base. It was swarming with guys. None of them was interested in me, though. They were all looking for girls who were…more adventurous, if you know what I mean.” Sonnet had decided during high school that she wasn’t going to have premarital sex, an idea Nina heartily endorsed.
“Oh, yeah,” Daisy said. “I totally know.”
“All righty then,” Nina said with exaggerated brightness, not loving this topic. “I’ll just take these glasses inside, give you girls a bit of privacy.” She went to the kitchen, making a clatter as she washed the glasses at the sink. Sonnet didn’t make a big deal of her vow of abstinence, but Nina knew she was quite serious about it. And why not? Seeing the impact premarital sex had had on her own life, Sonnet was determined to follow a different path.
Nina turned on the radio, humming along as she folded clean clothes from the dryer and took a stack to Sonnet’s room. It was barely a room, more like a sleeping nook with a window seat that doubled as a twin bed. Unlike Nina, Sonnet liked neatness and order. She had already unpacked, hanging her clothes with a military precision she might have inherited from her father. The gifts she’d brought back were displayed on a shelf—little items of delft china and bits of hand-tatted lace.
The girls were both quiet when Nina went back outside. Daisy looked up at her. “She’s sound asleep. The jet lag finally got to her. Do you think we should try to get her to bed?”
Nina smoothed her hand over Sonnet’s head. “I’ll do it later.”
Daisy’s eyes were bright, her energy level high. “I’m glad she’s back.”
“Me, too.” Nina refused to let herself dwell on the fact that Sonnet would be going away again, very soon. “You must be pretty excited about the wedding,” Nina said.
“I’m pretty excited about lots of things.”
“That’s good. You’ve got plenty to be excited about.” Nina sensed that Daisy was lingering for a reason. “Everything all right?”
“Sure. I mean, things are a little awkward with my mom around, but that’s to be expected. My mom’s pretty much a fish out of water here in Avalon, that’s for sure.”
“It’s a pretty big leap from the capitals of Europe to a town like this. I’m sure your mom will be fine.”
A silence stretched out between them. There were things Nina wanted to ask Daisy, but didn’t let herself. She’d already become too tangled up with this family. But she could wait, and listen.
She didn’t have to wait long. Daisy said, “You know, I thought I’d end up staying with my dad forever because he needs me. And I owe him that, I truly do, but I wish I could know he’d be happy without me.”
Nina was startled. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear from Daisy. “Just to clarify,” she said. “You are talking about your dad.”
“Yeah, who else?”
Nina was touched. Had Sonnet worried about her in this manner? Yet Nina suspected there was a layer of meaning in Daisy’s suggestion. “And I assume you haven’t said a word to him about any of this.”
“He’d only tell me that he’ll be fine, which is total b.s. Or, it would have been. Before you came along, I was really worried about my dad.”
“What do you mean, ‘came along’?” Nina asked. “I’ve been here all my life.”
“I mean now that I see my dad with you, for the first time in a really long time, I’m not worried about him.”
With you. Nina flushed, wondering how much Daisy knew. She decided to play dumb.
“Daisy, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I work for your dad. It’s not necessarily a permanent arrangement.”
“Not yet, anyway,” Daisy said with breezy assurance. “It’s just good to see him so happy. Good for all of us.” Daisy stared at the citronella candle, flickering on the table. “I don’t want my life to be here.” She almost whispered the words. “I want…something different, for myself and the baby, and it’s not here. I’ve wanted for so long to go away, to be on my own, but then I worry about Dad, and I know he would hate that if he knew, but I can’t help it. There’s this trapped feeling, I wake up at night and I can’t breathe. I feel smothered. But then when I see him with you—”
“Daisy, don’t make a decision based on your dad or anything but you and the baby. Seriously, you can’t live your life for other people. You’ll be miserable if you do.”
“I’ve been doing that all summer. I’m not anymore, though, so, thanks for reminding me I need to find my own life.”
“I didn’t—”
“I’d better go.” Daisy yawned and stretched. “Big day tomorrow.”
After she left, Nina covered Sonnet with a light blanket. Then, restless, she stood looking out at the lake, watching the reflection of moonlit clouds breezing past. When I see him with you… The thing Daisy didn’t understand was that Nina didn’t want a permanent arrangement with anyone. Did she? She wasn’t supposed to. What she was supposed to be doing was finding herself. Following her dreams. Figuring out who she was now that Sonnet was headed to college. At the beginning of summer, she’d known exactly what she wanted—the inn, and a new sense of freedom. Now she had neither, but her life felt rich in ways she’d never imagined.
There was one problem. Something she could barely stand to admit to herself. And the problem was that every time she thought about the future, images of Greg Bellamy crowded into her mind—and her heart. She had spent the entire summer focusing on all the reasons he was wrong for her and ignoring the only thing that mattered.
It was shocking, how quickly she’d gotten used to havin
g him in her life, waiting for him to come to her every night. Now she missed him so badly she shook with it. Even with her daughter home, she missed his arms around her, his easy laugh, the scent of him and the taste of his kisses. She missed everything about him.
And the terrible thing was, she’d never told him what he meant to her. What was she so afraid of? What was she waiting for? The clock chimed, signaling that midnight had passed. She’d better get to bed, too.
Tomorrow would be the perfect day to tell him. It was a wedding day, after all.
On the day of Connor and Olivia’s wedding, Greg got ready in one of the old bunkhouses at Camp Kioga. Once the scene of late-night pranks, kitchen raids and ghost stories, it was now the designated dressing room for the groomsmen and ushers. Greg noticed Max struggling with his tux, and went over to help.
“What’s up with the studs, anyway?” Max groused, looking down cross-eyed at his pleated white shirt.
“I just think it’s cool that they’re called studs,” Greg said. “Yo, Dad. Max needs help with his studs.”
Charles Bellamy looked impeccable as always—slim, silver-haired, with perfect posture and a ready smile for his youngest grandson. “Never let it be said I’ve outlived my usefulness,” he said. “I’ve done up my share of studs in my time.”
“Totally pointless,” Max said. “What’s wrong with buttons? Or a zipper? Yeah, a shirt with a zipper—now, that makes sense.”
“Young man, I’ll have you know these are Dunhill mother-of-pearl studs, exactly the same kind the men wore at my own wedding. That was fifty-one years ago, right here at Camp Kioga.” With nimble fingers that belied his age, Greg’s father helped Max with the studs. “So,” he said, “how has your summer gone this year?”
Max shrugged with elaborate nonchalance. “Okay.”
