The Seeds Of A Daisy: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One (Women's Fiction)

by Alison Caiola

  I was working at the farm stand last Sunday and it was really quiet. It was about noon and there wasn’t one customer all day! I was soooooo bored! My friend Donna came by on her horse, Sandy. She asked me if I wanted to hop on the back with her and ride down to the beach. We wouldn’t be long, just a half hour or so. When I told her that I couldn’t leave the stand, she said, “Daisy Edwards, how are you going to write about life if you don’t experience it? All you do is work, work, work! And besides, I’m getting ready to go to my family’s house in Martha’s Vineyard until the middle of August and I won’t see you for eight full weeks!!!”

  That made perfect sense to me. I wouldn’t be gone too long. Nobody would even miss me. I got on the horse behind Donna, and we galloped down to the beach. We really had a good talk.

  Diary, I was right, she is taking Marjorie Potter with her on the trip. I’m sure they’re going to come back best friends. Well, I hope not. We promised we would write letters every week and she would call me when she could. It’s going to be a long summer without Donna. She makes life so much more fun and better in every way.

  I glance up and look around the cafeteria. I notice that most of the people have gone. Only a few nurses and a couple of doctors remain. I think about how long my Mom and Auntie D. have been friends, and about all the things they must have gone through together over the years. I continue reading:

  So we had a great time and we were gone for less than an hour or so. When I came back Papa was behind the farm stand, helping customers. He gave me an “If looks could kill” look and I wanted to say to Donna, come on, let’s keep riding. But I couldn’t. I said goodbye to her and we promised again to stay in touch.

  After the customers left, Papa came over to me and he was sooooo mad. I had never seen his eyes look so strange. Sort of wild-looking is best as I can describe it. Anyway, he yelled at me that I wasn’t supposed to leave. And how could I do something like that? And leave the money box there for anyone to steal. I tried to tell him there was NO money, ’cause there wasn’t one customer all day. But he wouldn’t listen. He called me a lot of hateful names, like ingrate, and things that I don’t even want to put into my diary, they were so bad.

  Anyway, he was still mad and told me to follow him behind the barn and bring some more tomatoes to the stand.

  When I went behind the barn, he kicked me so hard that I screamed. He did it three times, then stamped on my foot.

  Diary, it was so painful, it felt like my toes were crushed. I cried. He told me to stop acting like a baby and that it would teach me never to leave the farm stand again.

  The whole day my left foot hurt me so bad. It felt like a strong heartbeat was in my toe.

  When I closed the farm stand and went to the house. it was before dinner, so I went into the bathroom and took off my sneakers and my toe was ten times its normal size and looked bent. I called Mama in and she said it looked broken. I asked her if we would go see Dr. Kaplin and she said it wasn’t necessary, that she would make it feel better. First she put some ice on it and then she wrapped it in bandage tape to make it stiff. But it made it feel worse. Mama said not to bring up the broken toe to my father, ’cause it would make him madder.

  She warned me not to say anything to anyone else. Papa always tells me, “The things that happen in the family must stay in the family!” But I can tell you, Diary, ’cause you are part of my family. Anyway, my toe feels a lot better and Papa did take us to the movies. I think he must have felt bad, don’t you?

  Daisy xoxoxo

  Tears are blurring my vision. Poor little Daisy. Why didn’t she ever tell me? How could my sweet Gramps be that monster? He was the kindest man, and always treated me like a princess. How did Mom feel when she would see us together? Would she think about how horrible he was to her? In my wildest dreams I can’t imagine how painful it would be to have an abusive parent. I may not have had a father in the picture, but Daisy was an incredible Mom.

  I remember when Mom, Auntie D.., and I lived in Greenwich Village. I loved that apartment. You couldn’t find a happier seven year old in the Big Apple.

  One afternoon, I was playing in my room with my friend Stacey from downstairs. “My life is ruined,” Stacey said as she changed her Barbie doll’s clothes for the twentieth time that day.

  “How can your life be ruined? We’re just kids, we don’t even have lives yet!” I said, undressing Ken for the tenth time that day. “Hey, how do you think he pees?” I said, inspecting the area where there should have been genitalia.

  “Listen to me!” Stacey stood up dramatically.

  “Okay, okay, I’m listening,” I said, and I put Ken down on the floor, leaving him to figure out his own plumbing problems.

  “My mom and dad are getting a divorce,” she announced, and started to cry.

  I put my arm around her and said, “Almost everyone’s parents are divorced. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But my dad is moving all the way to California. I’ll never see him EVER!” She stamped her foot to emphasize how painful and frustrating the situation was.

  “Oh, is that all?” I said. “Don’t worry. Look at me. All you need is one good mother, and you’ll be just fine.”

  There was a sound in the hallway. I turned and saw my mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks.

  I sigh, remembering happier days, and glance at the clock. It’s 10 p.m. already. I decide to go back up to the I.C.U. First I’ll stop to see if anyone is in the conference room. If not, it’s a good time for me to make a couple of calls.

  I go upstairs. The floor is quiet. The hospital has taken on its night persona—still busy, but not frenetic.

  I decide to call Theresa first to tell her that Mom is out of surgery and to give her the update. Then she can tell me what’s going on at her end.

  “Hello?” Theresa answers on the second ring.

  “Hi, Theresa, it’s me.”

  “Hi, honey, I’m so glad you called. I’ve been so worried. What’s going on?” she asks.

  I bring her up to speed and tell her we just have to wait, and hopefully Mom will gain consciousness soon. I tell her everything Dr. Niptau told us.

  “So that’s about it,” I say.

  “Who’s with you now, sweetie?”

  “Tommy and Fernando spent a good portion of the afternoon and early evening with me.”

  “And Donna?” Theresa asks.

  “Auntie D. should be flying in sometime tonight from Portugal. I’ll probably wait for her here, if she’s not too late.”

  “Excellent,” she says. “Honey, I should probably tell you that I saw something on television—”

  I interrupt her. “On Hollywood Scoop?

  “Hollywood Scoop—no, what was on that piece of shit program?”

  “They had a segment about Mom and then they cut to Jamie on a mechanical bull doing shots and hugging Nasty Natty.”

  “Oh, that.We were all there—a pre-production promo thing for the movie. As usual, Harvey is trying to stir up public interest in the film and the cast—even before one frame is shot. That’s why his movies always make tons and tons of money.”

  I feel relieved and am glad I called her. Of course it’s a publicity stunt. That makes perfect sense. And if Nasty Natty hadn’t dropped that bomb at the party, I would’ve automatically assumed that’s what it was.

  “What I saw on TV was on the news. They’re saying that there was another person in the crash, and that other person is also in critical condition,” she tells me.

  “What? How come nobody told me? What else did they announce? Did they say how it happened or who was at fault?” Her news catches me off guard.

  “They didn’t say much. They didn’t reveal the name of the other person. They said they couldn’t do so until his immediate family was notified. But they revealed that he’s an unidentified male in his thirties.”

  “I wonder if he’s here—at University Hospital?”

  “I guess it’s a possibi
lity,” she replies. “Oh, and also—don’t tell him I told you this—but Jamie made arrangements to fly out tomorrow. If Pete finds out I am giving you inside info, he’ll ship me back home.” She laughs.

  “I promise. And thanks, Theresa. It means a lot to me. As shitty as he’s been, I still need him here with me.”

  “I completely understand. You need him now. All that other crap belongs on the back burner. When Daisy is on the mend, then you can deal with it. Hang in there, kiddo. I love you. Call me tomorrow with an update.”

  Now I feel much better about Jamie and Natalie. What if the night of the party was a ploy of Natalie’s to come between Jamie and me? And stupid me, I played right into her hands. Theresa was right: I have to wait and let it play out.

  I dial Jamie’s number.

  “Yeah?” he answers.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I say. I’m still nervous talking to him.

  “Hey, babe, I’m between shots. What’s happening there?”

  I catch him up to speed.

  “I can’t believe it. I mean, I can’t imagine Daisy lying there in a coma—she’s always so…in control, ya know what I mean?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “Listen, babe, the production company hooked me up with a flight out tomorrow—I’ll get in around ten. I’ll pick up a rental car there,” he tells me.

  “Sounds great. Call me when you land and I’ll tell you where I’ll be, the farm or the hospital, okay? How are things going on the set?” I ask.

  “Cool, so far…I think,” Jamie replies. “Listen, babe, wardrobe is here, I gotta change for the next shot. I’ll call you tomorrow. Hey, babe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Listen, don’t worry, everything’s gonna work out—with Daisy and with us. I love you, babe.”

  “I love you too, Jamie,” I reply. A wave of love envelops me.

  Jamie may be right. Daisy could come out of the coma soon and be back to herself in no time. And as far as we are concerned, all couples go through bad times. If we love each other, we can get through this. In the years ahead, we will look back on this time as something that we went through, survived, and emerged from as a stronger couple. For the first time in days, I am feeling optimistic.

  I get to the I.C.U. and go over to Tina at the nurse’s station to see if there is any change. She says there isn’t, but that the doctor stopped in on his way home and was happy with Mom’s intracranial pressure results. The pressure has gone down, and while it isn’t normal yet, it is better than it has been.

  “Tina, one more thing. Someone told me there was another person involved in the accident with my mother. And that the person was also hospitalized. Is he here?”

  “Well, he’s not here on this side of the I.C.U., but I can ask around. My friend Tracey works in Trauma; I can call her. He would’ve gone through there. They also might have taken him to a different hospital. That happens sometimes. I’ll let you know,” she says.

  “Thanks. I’ll be in my mother’s room.” I start walking away.

  “Do you think he’s cheating on you?” she asks innocently. I am stunned at the question. How nervy and insensitive. Tears sting my eyes, and I feel my face get hot.

  “Excuse me?” I ask coldly.

  “Do you think Jack is cheating on you? ’Cause it seems pretty fishy to me that all of a sudden, after so many years, he can’t commit. So do you think he’s cheating on you?” She is talking about my storyline on St. Joe’s!

  I laugh, relieved. “C’mon, Tina, they swear us to secrecy. I can’t tell you what happens!”

  “I know. I thought maybe I could get the inside scoop.”

  “My lips are sealed,” I tell her. “You just have to keep watching.” I head back to Mom’s room.

  She looks exactly the same.

  “Hi, Mom—it’s me, Lily. I’m back. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner. I know you’re gonna say that I need to eat better, and I promise I will tomorrow.”

  I text Tommy that everything is the same and ask if he is able to track Auntie D.’s flight so that I’ll know when she is due to arrive. I tell him what Theresa said about publicity reasons for the bull-riding promo, and that it didn’t mean Jamie was fooling around. I also tell him about the other victim of the car crash and ask him to check online to see if there is any info about the other driver.

  I immediately get a text back: Hi Sweetheart. Don’t know about another driver in the accident. Will look it up online and c if I can get info 4 u. Fernando says he still doesn’t trust Jamie, b careful. BTW, Donna should land at 11:00 We luv u T & F

  It’s almost 11:00 p.m. I’m feeling crampy, like I’m getting my period. Off and on, my boobs have been sensitive all day. Shit, just what I need! To get my period now, right before Jamie gets here.

  It’s hard to keep my eyes open. I move my chair as close to my mother’s bed as I can get it, then lean the recliner back, put my hand on my Mom’s, and close my eyes…

  I wake up to someone whispering. I open one eye to see that Auntie D. is here. She’s leaning over, whispering to my mother, and crying. “Oh, Daisy, we’re in a shitload of trouble this time, aren’t we? Come on, Pali, we’ve been in a lot of bad jams together; I know what you can do. Daisy, I know you, you have to come out of this. You have to, darlin’.”

  Auntie D. sees I’m awake and opens her arms to me. I hug her and we both cry.

  “Lily of the Valley, she’s going to make it through this, I know it!”

  “Do you really think so, Auntie D.? Because it’s really scary. What if she doesn’t wake up? I can’t imagine life without her.” I sob harder, burying my head on her shoulder.

  “There’s no way that’s going to happen. No way! She wouldn’t do that—Daisy Edwards Lockwood is a force to be reckoned with. She’ll be just fine! I feel it in every bone of my body.”

  It’s a relief to have Auntie D. here. We sit by Mom’s bedside and talk to Mom as well as to each other. After an hour, we decide to take a break and go to the cafeteria.

  Once there, we drink coffee that tastes like burned wood and eat Twinkies from the vending machine. I tell Auntie D. everything that’s been happening. In mid-sentence, I almost gag.

  “The Twinkies are really stale. Don’t these things have a shelf life of about fifty years?” I examine the half- eaten antique cream-filled cake and pop the rest in my mouth. “So, the doctors say it’s a waiting game now,” I say.

  “You know, Lily, you’ve been so amazing. Your mother would be proud of you,” Auntie D. says approvingly.

  “I have? She would?” Her statement surprises me.

  “Absolutely!” she replies. “Look what you’ve done in less than twenty-four hours since you’ve been here. You’ve coordinated with the doctors, you’ve made sure all her loved ones know what’s going on, you have Bette running interference with the press, and you’ve been by Daisy’s bedside most of the time. You bet your ass, I say that’s amazing!”

  It is so funny, but in my entire life no one has ever said anything like that to me before. Sure, they’ve complimented me on my acting, or my grades in school, or my fashion sense, but never on how I handle a terrible situation or emergency. I guess because I never had to handle anything myself. My M.O. has always been to fall apart, into a million tiny pieces. I have Mom, Jamie, Franny, Jody, or a host of others to handle crises for me.

  I wonder if Donna would be surprised to know how lacking I truly feel; how I have absolutely no clue if I am asking the right questions or making the right choices.

  My phone rings. It’s Jamie.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey…listen, I have something to tell you.” He hesitates.

  Oh, dear Lord, please don’t let him tell me he can’t come or that he realizes he doesn’t love me or…

  “I just saw Hollywood Scoop…did you see it?” he asks. He sounds worried.

  “Yep, I sure did,” I reply.

  “Shit, babe, you gotta listen to me.
It was for a publicity piece. I don’t know why or how it ended up on that show. I am so sorry you had to see that. Damn it! You gotta believe me!” He sounds panicked.

  “I do.”

  “You do? What?” he asks.

  “I believe you.”

  “Oh shit, I feel so much better. Are you serious?” he asks. He doesn’t sound convinced. “This isn’t some sorta trap?”

  “I understand, and it’s not a trap.”

  “Man, that’s a relief. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll be there before you know it. Everything’s gonna be all right, don’t you worry. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, baby!”

  I wake up on Friday morning in my mother’s four- poster bed. The sheets still smell of her perfume. I lie there, not wanting to get up, not wanting to think of where my mother slept last night. I want to stay here, under the goose down blanket, wrapped in her Egyptian sheets, and listen to the songbirds outside her window.

  Without even lifting my head off the down pillow, I am able to see the Long Island Sound. I lie there for a few minutes and watch the sun’s rays perform their animated diamond dance up and down the water.

  I smell coffee and remember that Auntie D. slept here overnight. I look at the clock and it shocks me that it is already 11:30 a.m. I jump out of bed, brush my teeth, and head downstairs.

  Auntie D. is sitting at the dining-room table reading The New York Times. Her hair is pulled back and she’s wearing brown bifocals. The only glasses I’ve ever seen her wear are shades. These frames make her look like a sexy schoolteacher. She looks up and smiles when she sees me walking down the steps.

  I give her a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t believe I slept so late. I guess I’m still on West Coast time. Did you sleep okay?”

  “Perfectly. The bed in the guest room is delicious. I’m still on Portugal time—five hours ahead. So by 5:00 a.m., I was getting antsy and got up.” She points to the coffeemaker. “Go take some coffee, sweetie. Are you hungry? I made some scrambled eggs. There’s also rye toast and fruit.”