“They wanted to come right away, tonight, but I held them off a little bit. I told them I was out of town and tomorrow would be better. They want to come around noon.”
She felt as if somebody had wrapped Louie’s leash around her neck and was cutting off her air supply.
After the silence dragged on, Gabe finally spoke. “I’m so sorry, Daisy. After we put up the signs and contacted shelters but still didn’t hear from anyone the first several days, I was convinced he was a stray. This isn’t what I wanted to have happen. I know you’ve come to care about him. I have, too.”
She had to pull it together. She couldn’t let Gabe see how devastated she was. “If Louie...if Blue is their dog, they must be missing him terribly.” She was relieved to hear her voice only shake a little. “He’s probably m-missed them, too.”
“They were over the moon when I sent them pictures I had. Their little girl has been crying herself to sleep every night since they returned to find him missing.”
Her throat tightened. So much for her plans to pack Louie into her car and head to Mexico, where no one could find them. He had a little girl who loved him. How could she get in the way of that?
“You said noon tomorrow?”
“Yes. Are you spending the night with Stella?”
“Yes, but she has an appointment in the morning. Ed Clayton insisted on taking her. I’ll be home.”
“I’ll let the Johnsons know your address. Can I come by and take him for one last walk around ten?”
He cared about the dog, too. She couldn’t forget that. “Yes. That’s fine.”
“It will be hard to say goodbye,” he said.
“Yes.” It never got easier, she had found.
After they ended the call, Daisy sat on Stella’s porch steps, feeling as if her bones had turned to stone.
Louie, adorable as he was, seemed to sense something was wrong. He gave a concerned bark, licked her arm, then sat down on her foot. Tears trickled out as she scooped him up again and buried her cheek against his fur, missing him already.
30
GABE
He hated goodbyes—hated them so much, he usually preferred to keep them out of his vocabulary and use a completely different word. Aloha. Adieu. Anything else that didn’t seem so...final.
He had said plenty of goodbyes in his life, starting with his mother when he had been too small to really understand she was leaving.
He hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to his father, either. Chet had died in a free-climbing accident in South Africa, taken far too early. While he had been filming a segment for his adventure show there, he had made the critical mistake of deciding to climb on his own that morning, no cameras, so nobody really knew what had happened.
Gabe had been fifteen, still sleeping at base camp when Chet had left. When his father didn’t return, he went looking for him and found his crumpled body at the base of the steep face.
When he thought about it, he was still angry with his father for being so foolhardy and, as usual, not sparing a moment’s thought for his son or the possibility that he might die and Gabe might be the one to find his body.
This wasn’t anything like that. He was losing a dog that hadn’t ever really even been his. Like so many other things in life, Louie had been temporary. If he could manage to keep that in mind, he might survive the next few hours.
Louie’s owners were so very happy to have their dog back. They couldn’t wait to see him and wanted to come first thing that morning. It had been all he could do to convince them to wait a few hours.
He pulled up to Daisy’s house, with its wild garden and honey-colored brick and the secret terrace that offered fabulous views.
How was she really doing with all this? When he had told her at first the day before, she had seemed stunned, but by the end of the call, she had been her normal composed self.
It was an act. Or at least he was almost positive. He just didn’t know how to pierce through her hard skin to the real emotions seething beneath.
He knocked on the door, trying not to remember the tenderness seeping through him when he had kissed her the last time he had seen her.
It seemed a lifetime ago, though it had been less than a week.
When she opened the door, looking lovely but restrained, all his own tangled emotions seemed to chase each other around in his chest, especially when Louie came trotting over to greet him. He reached down and petted the dog, wishing he could pick him up and make a run for it before the Johnsons arrived.
“Gabriel. Hi. Come in. How was your trip?”
He walked inside, wanting to break her polite facade into tiny little pieces.
“The trip was fine. I met with the liver doc, who said I’m healing well. Better than expected.”
“That’s great.”
“How’s Stella?”
That did seem to create a crack in her composure. For just an instant, emotions flitted across her features. She shook her head. “Not good. She is deep in grief. She’s pushing everyone away.”
“I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be for her.”
“It is. She wanted the baby so much. I don’t know how she’ll make it through.”
“I’m sure it’s been tough on all of you. You and Stella and Bea are very close. You all must be suffering.”
She didn’t answer, only looked down at the ground for a moment. When she met his gaze again, her features were composed but her eyes looked haunted. “We barely had time to get used to the idea of Stella having a baby. It’s just so very sad.”
He wanted to hug her, wrap his arms around her and provide what little comfort he could, but the tension between them held him back.
“Anyway, we’re trying to be there for her. It’s all we can do right now.” She glanced down at Louie, who had planted his haunches on Gabe’s shoe. “I have all Louie’s things gathered up, waiting for his family to come back. Did you want to take him for one last walk?”
The words wrenched at his heart. He didn’t want to take the dog for one last walk; he wanted to take him for hundreds more. “A walk would be good. Would you...care to join us?”
For an instant he thought she would agree to come with him but she shook her head. “He and I have already been out for a long walk as soon as we came back from Stella’s this morning. I don’t really have time for a second walk. You go ahead and take him.”
He knew her excuse was just that. An excuse. She didn’t want to be alone with him. He didn’t need her to spell it out.
“His leash is there by the door,” Daisy said.
He nodded and reached for it, feeling defeated and more depressed than he’d been since receiving the call the day before from the Johnsons.
Louie danced around in excitement as Gabe put the leash on and walked outside with him.
He took the dog farther than he had before, past the spot where he had rescued him along the path that ran atop the cliffs. The Pacific gleamed in the late-morning sunshine and gulls wheeled overhead, and he even spied a couple of osprey nests, high in the cliffs.
The Johnsons weren’t supposed to arrive until noon. It was only half past eleven when he made his way back along Seaview Drive to Pear Tree Cottage, but he immediately spied another car already there, a late-model Mercedes SUV.
The Johnsons had sounded very kind on the phone and truly distressed at losing what was apparently a beloved family pet, but he disliked the entire family sight unseen, as unreasonable as that was.
His legs felt as if they weighed a ton each and his stupid wound burned as he reluctantly walked the remaining hundred feet to her house.
Daisy opened the door before he even reached the bottom step.
“Here you are. Finally,” she said, making him wonder just how long the Johnsons had been there. Daisy would have hated trying to make conversation with s
trangers who were only there to take something she loved.
Inside he spotted a well-dressed couple on the sofa, along with a girl of about seven, who sat on the edge of her seat.
The moment he and Louie walked into the house, the dog immediately began barking, tugging at the leash. The girl jumped down and raced to him.
“Blue! It’s you! I knew it! Hi, boy. Did you miss me? Did you?”
The dog licked the girl, sniffing and dancing with his butt wriggling a million miles a minute.
The little girl was laughing and crying at the same time, hugging him close. Her parents joined her, both beaming broadly.
“There’s our boy. There’s our good boy,” the girl’s father said, his voice gruff, and Gabe’s resentment slid away. This was obviously the dog’s forever family. It was clear in all of their reactions, sheer joy at being reunited.
“Where did you say you found him?” Joe Johnson asked. He wondered if he was imagining the suspicion in the man’s voice. Did they think he or Daisy had kidnapped him? Why would they go to the trouble of contacting shelters if they had?
“Right down the road,” he answered. “I can show you if you’d like. I was taking a walk one night and heard a whimper. He had fallen down an embankment about twenty feet below the road.”
“What Gabe is not telling you is that he risked his life to rescue Louie, er, Blue, just days after a severe liver injury and major surgery.”
Her quick defense of him took him by surprise and warmed him. He didn’t have time to savor it, though.
“We cannot tell you how very grateful we are. Blue is a vital part of our family,” Emily said. “We’ve been absolutely sick for three days, since we returned from Italy and found out he was gone.”
“I hope you fired your house sitter for not telling you.”
“Unfortunately, it’s my younger sister,” Joe said. “I can’t fire her from being my sister, but she’ll certainly never stay in our house again.”
The dog seemed to be racing from person to person in his little pack, as if making sure each was all right. Daisy, he noted, stood apart, watching the scene with the detachment he knew she used as protection.
“He’s a great dog,” Gabe said. “I can see why you’re upset at losing him.”
Beside him he thought Daisy may have made a small sound of distress, but when he shifted his gaze, she was looking at the family with the same pleasant, almost blank, smile.
“We are so very grateful to both of you, for finding him and for taking care of him these past few weeks,” Joe said. “We’d like to give you a reward.”
“No,” Daisy said, the word sharp as a scalpel. She glanced at him, swallowed and moderated her tone. “Not necessary. We... I’m just happy he’s found you both again. All dogs deserve to have a loving family.”
The family argued for a few moments but Daisy stood firm. She helped them load up the things she had purchased for him then gave the dog a hug. Louie nuzzled against her as if he knew he was saying goodbye and wanted to memorize the scent of her, and Gabe had to swallow a thick ball in his throat.
Moments later the family drove away with Louie on the little girl’s lap in the back seat, his face pressed against the window until they were out of sight.
Daisy stood in her driveway watching after them, her hands curled slightly at her sides.
“Daisy. I’m so very sorry.”
She looked up as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Why are you sorry? Louie is right where he should be, with the family that loves him. I still can’t think of him as Blue.”
Her calm tone somehow was the last straw. He was being strangled by sadness, yet she stood here acting as if nothing had happened.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay with this. It’s just the two of us now. You can yell or cry or whatever you need to do.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re not a freaking robot. Because I can tell that you’re as upset as I am. He was a great dog and we both came to care for him. It’s okay to be sad about that.”
She looked away. “I don’t have time to be sad. I have too much to do today. And I have to get back to Aunt Stella.”
“Daisy.” He needed a reaction from her. Anything! “Let go.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want me to say, Gabe? Yes, I cared about the dog. But he wasn’t mine to care about and I can accept that. I don’t see the point in wailing and carrying on.”
“A woman who paints with such charm and joy can’t possibly be this cold.”
If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he might have missed her flinch. She masked her reaction quickly and offered a cool smile. “Maybe I’ve just learned how to control my emotions.”
“There’s a difference between controlling emotions and shoving them down so far inside you, you don’t know how to find them when you need them.”
“I feel things. I feel them deeply. But what’s the point of being a drama queen about things?”
“I am in love with you, Daisy McClure. Does that merit any kind of response?”
31
DAISY
Through her grief and her sadness, she heard his words as if from a long distance away. He had said something similar the last time they spoke but she hadn’t believed him. Now she was torn between joy and fear.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on tight, let him comfort and soothe this vast ache in her chest.
He was leaving, just like Louie. She knew Gabe would be gone again on his next project. Then where would she be? More heartbroken than she was right now.
“I’m in love with you,” he went on, “but if you want the truth, I feel like I’m in love with two different women. There’s Marguerite, the passionate, creative, wild-hearted artist. Then there’s Daisy, the woman who can lose a creature she has loved for weeks without showing any sign that it hurts.”
His words were proof that he couldn’t be in love with her. How could he think she wasn’t impacted by the loss of Louie, when every muscle and joint ached like she had the worst case of flu ever?
Gabe had visited the dog like some kind of noncustodial parent. Like Cruz did with Mari, for brief, fun little encounters. Daisy had been the one caring for the dog twenty-four hours a day. The one who had bathed him and fed him and sat with him at her feet while she worked.
She had given her heart to the little dog, and she was not someone who could give her heart easily.
“Just because I don’t show every emotion doesn’t mean I don’t have them.”
“Do you? Because I’m beginning to wonder.”
“What do you want me to do? Scream? Tear out my hair? Flop down on the ground and pound my fists?”
“Anything would be better than this cold...nothing. What are you so afraid of? That people will judge you poorly for being human, like the rest of us?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He gave her a pitying look. “Oh, Daisy. You can’t believe that. You’re in hiding. Not just from me, but from everyone. From the world. You won’t even tell your sister and your aunt—the two people you claim to love the most—that you are a brilliant artist who has achieved amazing commercial and critical success.”
“I told you. There are reasons for keeping it a secret.”
“The biggest reason is your fear. You’re afraid to show people who you are inside. You’re afraid they’ll reject you if they know your psyche is as messy and wild and unrestrained as everyone else’s.”
She dug her fingernails into her skin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He looked sad suddenly. Sad and defeated, an expression she had never seen on his features before. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m crazy. I would like you to trust me enough by now to show me what’s really in your hear
t. I believe there’s more of Marguerite than Daisy inside you—the passion and energy and joy she is able to show to the world. I’m in love with you. All of you. The messy parts, the secret parts, the emotional parts you want to hide away. I’m in love with the careful Daisy, the woman who is so organized and efficient at everything she does. But you are more than that. It’s obvious you don’t return my feelings or you would be willing to share your fears and your joys and your sadness with me.”
“I...care about you,” she said. She wanted to tell him that what she felt was so much more, but she couldn’t form the words.
“Obviously not enough.”
He gave her one last, sorrowful look before he turned around and walked to his vehicle, climbed in and closed the door behind him with a decisive click.
And then he was gone, too.
His words echoed through the garden long after he drove away. They were like acid on her soul, etching deeper into all the grooves created by the chaos of her childhood. She couldn’t be that woman he wanted her to be. She had worked too hard, too long, to become as she was.
Daisy was strong. She wore her control and reserve like armor against the world that could wound so sharply.
Yes, she had been afraid. Of everything. Of the dark, of sleeping in their car, of not having enough to feed her sister. She had been afraid of moving into a new apartment and of her mother getting another boyfriend who wanted her to sit on his lap a little too long and of not being able to protect Bea from the same kind of attention.
Marguerite, on the other hand. She was a piece of work. She was flighty and fickle, more interested in flowers and bunnies, pretty colors and elegant lines, than in creating a safe, secure future for herself.
She didn’t miss the irony, fully aware that the whimsy she embraced as Marguerite had been the very thing to provide more security and safety than Daisy’s accounting degree or wealthy clients or carefully tended portfolio ever would.
She sat on the carved bench in her garden, half waiting for a little dog to come scampering over to sit on her feet.
Whoever would have guessed that a heart could break into so many pieces?
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