by Susan Wiggs
As she stood on the porch and knocked at the door, Daisy wondered if he’d changed much now that he went to an Ivy League college. Maybe his first semester at Cornell had turned him into a geek, or—
“Hey, Daisy.” And there he stood, holding the door for her.
Cornell had most definitely not turned him into a geek. Cornell—or the passage of time, or all the extreme sports he did—had made him even more gorgeous than she remembered. He still had that crop of dreadlocks, the broad-shouldered physique of a star athlete and a smile that lit up his whole face.
“Hey, yourself.” She grinned back at him. “It’s really good to see you.” Were they supposed to hug? Shake hands? With the baby on her hip, it was awkward. Charlie pushed his face into Daisy’s shoulder as though to hide. In his hooded snowsuit, he looked like a fleecy teddy bear she’d won at a shooting gallery. “He’s kind of shy around strangers,” she explained.
“That’s okay. I’m shy around babies.”
The honest admission made her laugh. “Most guys are.”
“Come on in. I was just about to load up the gear.” They were going ice climbing with Sonnet and Zach in Deep Notch today. Julian, always up for doing something totally extreme, had organized the expedition, bringing equipment from the climbing club at Cornell.
“Let me get Charlie settled, and I’ll give you a hand.”
She left her boots at the door and headed down the hall, feeling a surge of excitement. Other than leaving Charlie with her mom for school, she didn’t get out by herself very often.
She stepped into the kitchen to find not just Olivia, but Jenny Majesky and Nina. “Hi,” she said, and turned to Nina. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Hi, yourself.” Nina reached for the baby.
“I thought I was babysitting today,” Olivia said.
Jenny laughed. “So young, and already he’s got women fighting over him.”
“We’ll share,” Nina promised, but she took charge of getting Charlie out of his snowsuit. He knew and adored her, and chortled with contentment as she unzipped him and held him out so Olivia could peel off the fleecy suit.
Daisy went to the fridge and unloaded the bottles. “So what’s up?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Jenny has news,” said Olivia.
Nina beamed at Jenny. “Does she ever.”
“You’re pregnant?” Daisy asked. That was sort of what she expected. Jenny had married Rourke McKnight a year ago, and she’d made no secret of wanting to start a family, ASAP.
Now she shook her head. “A different kind of news. You know I’ve been writing.”
“Only all your life,” Nina added. Jenny had a popular weekly food column in the local paper. She looked more excited than Jenny, as if she were about to bubble over. Nina and Jenny were true BFFs. They had met in grade school and had been best friends ever since. Daisy believed there was a special quality in that kind of relationship. The years, filled with shared good times and bad, gave a peculiar sturdiness to the bond.
Daisy didn’t have a friend like that. In high school, she’d been too careless or maybe too preoccupied with keeping up her party-girl image. She and Sonnet were close, but they’d only been friends for a year and their lives had become so different that the bond didn’t feel as safe and sure as it once had.
But Nina and Jenny, that was a different story. Daisy regarded the two of them as though through the camera’s eye. They looked totally different—Nina dark and small and intense, a concentrated ball of energy. And then there was Jenny, who was quiet and beautiful, with delicate looks that made her seem as though she could easily break. Jenny had survived some terrible losses and tragedies in her life, but she had never let those things defeat her. Now she was lit up with some kind of happiness Daisy hoped she would find for herself one day.
“All right, so what’s this news?” she asked. “Something about your writing?”
“Yep. My collection of memories and recipes from growing up at the Sky River Bakery is going to be published as a book.”
Daisy knew Jenny had been working on it for years. It was incredible to know someone whose dreams were coming true right before your eyes. “Way to go, Jenny,” she said. “Everybody loves the bakery so much. They’re going to love your book, too.”
“I hope so. And I have a request.” She opened a big manila envelope and pulled out a collection of photos Daisy had taken at the bakery, back when she’d worked there part-time. “If it’s all right with you,” Jenny said, “I’d like to show these to the publisher. If they use them, you’ll be paid for your work.”
“Of course they’ll use them,” Nina said. “Those pictures are fantastic.”
“I think so, too,” Jenny said. “They want to include a few archival pictures of the bakery, but most of those were lost in the fire.” She was referring to the fire that had burned her home to the ground the previous year. “I’d like to propose this image for the cover.”
She indicated the photograph on the top of the stack. Charlie made a dive for it, but Nina held him in check. The picture was a shot of a woman’s hands, dusted in flour and expertly kneading a mound of dough. The hands belonged to Laura Tuttle, who had worked at the bakery for, like, a zillion years, and all that experience and strength showed in the hands. It wasn’t that they looked that old, but they looked sturdy and competent. The photograph, which Daisy had rendered in sepia tones, was filled with intimate detail. It had been a part of the portfolio that had gained her admission to her current photography class.
“I think that picture perfectly complements the book’s title,” Nina said. “Food for Thought: Kitchen Wisdom from a Family Bakery.”
“So is it okay?” Jenny asked. “You’d be paid, of course.”
“Wow, it’s totally okay,” Daisy assured her. “I just hope they’re good enough.”
“They’re wonderful,” Olivia said. “Everyone thinks so.”
This news, Daisy decided, was proof that even after terrible things happened, dreams could come true. For Jenny, of course, but also for her. She couldn’t wait to tell her mom. How cool that she finally felt that way.
Things were still tense between Sonnet and Zach, but at least they weren’t openly fighting. Sonnet conceded that the real feud was between her mother and Zach’s father, not between her and Zach. Daisy sensed they even kind of liked being together during Sonnet’s week home. Julian borrowed his brother’s four-wheel-drive Jeep to drive to West Kill, the closest town to the ice climb at Deep Notch.
As they hauled their gear up to the frozen waterfall, Daisy took some pictures—Julian, so intent as he led the way up through the forest. Sonnet looking dubious, Zach intrigued. Winter light filtered through high, thin clouds, and the shapes of the bare trees were etched against the snow.
“So, ice climbing,” Sonnet said to Julian. “It’s pretty much what it sounds like, right?”
“Depends,” said Julian with a good-natured grin. “What does it sound like to you?”
“Challenging. Extreme. Lethal. How am I doing?”
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “I brought all the safety gear we’ll need.” He explained rope systems, tying in, belaying, leading, rappelling and lowering. She was familiar with the techniques from rock climbing, but when the vast wall of ice came into view, rows of icicles glinting like daggers of glass, she realized the ascent was going to be something entirely new.
Sonnet was in open rebellion even before they reached the base of the climb. “I am so not doing this.”
“That’s fine,” said Zach. “You can hold the rope for me.”
“You’d trust me to do that?”
“With my life,” he stated.
She caught her breath, clearly not having expected such a statement. They shared a long look, and Daisy could see a softening in Sonnet’s eyes. On his relentless quest to win back her friendship, he was clearly gaining ground.
They reached the base of the ice wall and put on their gear�
��rigid crampons on their feet, harnesses for belaying, belts for the ice axes and screws. Julian demonstrated the techniques that were not, Daisy observed, terribly elegant. Basically, scaling a wall of ice involved digging in a pair of handheld axes while holding steady with the points of your footgear, and using the occasional screw Julian had placed on the ascent. Julian, with his strength and grace, made it look easy—swing and then plant, methodically working his way up the rugged pillars of ice. It didn’t take Daisy long to discover that it wasn’t exactly as easy as that. Even the short practice ascent challenged muscles she didn’t know she had.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” she said, arriving in a crumpled heap at the top.
“You’re the one who followed me here. What does that make you?”
Zach boosted himself up and then sat on a rock outcropping, his feet dangling over the edge. “Next,” he yelled down to Sonnet.
“I already told you, I’m not going,” she said.
Zach got up and took the rope from Julian. “I got this. We’ll practice here for a while.”
Julian motioned Daisy to a longer, steeper section of the ice wall. “You up for this?”
“Sure.” Despite the fact that the sport was a monumental struggle, she loved the exhilarating sense of freedom she had out here in the wilderness. Just for a few hours, she wasn’t thinking about anything but being with friends, looking at the scenery, having a good time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something like this. During the fleeting, perilous minutes of the climb, she was just Daisy, not a single mother who had made a lifelong commitment to a child she’d never planned on having.
“You’re all smiles,” Julian said when she joined him at the top of the icefall.
She took off her helmet and backpack and took the water bottle he offered. “I’m starting to get why you like doing this.” Her smile faded. “I feel guilty, though. Every time I leave Charlie with somebody, I feel guilty.”
“He was all smiles, too, when you left him at Olivia’s.”
“I guess.” She took out her camera. The clouds had broken to reveal the kind of sky you only saw in winter—intense, eye-smarting blue, contrasted against the blinding white snow and shadowy mountains. She took some shots, then turned the lens toward Julian.
He sat still for a couple of frames, then jumped up. “I want to keep going.”
She shaded her eyes and leaned back to study the ascent to the summit. The last bit was dizzying, the ice not just vertical but bowed out over a series of rocky cliffs. “It looks impossible.”
He grinned. “That’s why I want to keep going.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“My Spidey-sense tells me I can.”
She glowered at him. “I’ll make a photographic record of your last moments alive.”
That made him laugh aloud. “You do that. It’ll be good for your career.” He put his helmet and goggles back on, checked his safety ropes and headed up the pillars of ice, moving with a determination she captured beautifully with her camera. Chunks and fine shavings of ice rained down beneath him. At one point, he was clinging to a sheet of ice so vast that he did resemble Spider-Man, suspended in midair. She zoomed in on him, the powerful lens giving her a detailed view of his struggle.
And of the extremely loose-looking screw he was perched on. The ice around it was cracking, crumbling.
“You’re going to lose your footing,” she yelled. “Julian, look out!”
Her warning came the same moment the ice gave way. He dug in with both ice axes and hung there while the screw fell in a hail of ice and rock. Daisy was transfixed, speechless with terror. Julian’s feet swung free, and he seemed to be helpless. She rushed to the ascent rope, found her voice. “Julian, what should I do?” She sounded hollow, the words echoing off the walls of ice and rock.
“I’m good,” he said. “Don’t…worry.”
She held her breath and watched. He gained a toehold and hugged the ice for a moment, and she could tell he was fatigued. Then he lifted one ax, moving upward. Upward? “Julian—”
“I can’t go down from here,” he said, correctly reading her thoughts. “Safer to go up.”
She didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t look away. The ascent seemed to take hours, though it was really only minutes. Her heart counted out the seconds, and she came to a stark understanding of the amazing fragility of life. Everything could change in an instant. In a single instant, a light could be switched on or off. A decision could be made. An egg could be fertilized. A climber could slip and fall.
Then it struck her—how very much she loved having Julian in the world. That was when she stopped breathing and simply held her breath. It felt like a kind of praying.
At long last, he reached the summit, disappearing over a glinting bulge of ice. Daisy slumped down, feeling weak and suddenly quite cold. A fat length of rope snaked down the wall of ice. A top rope? Was he kidding? Did he think she was going to follow him up?
Charlie, she thought. I can’t do stupid things anymore. She looked at the rope again. This was Julian. He was crazy, but he knew how to keep her safe—didn’t he?
She put away her camera, donned her backpack, helmet and goggles, double-checked her harness, secured the rope. “Belay on,” she called, “and if I make it up there, you’re dead meat.”
She made the ascent with more caution—and more ice screws—than ever, picking the easiest route she could find. Even so, it was long and hard; her arms and legs were shaking, muscles screaming. She hadn’t felt this physically challenged since giving birth. She was breathless and sweating when she finally hoisted herself to the summit. She stripped off the helmet and goggles, “That,” she said, “was awesome.”
He held out his hand, drawing her to her feet, and when she got up, he didn’t let go. It was still there, the pulse of awareness she’d always felt when she was near him, the recognition, the wanting.
“Julian—”
He didn’t let her finish but leaned down, framed her face between his hands and kissed her. He had never kissed her before, though she’d wanted him to. It wasn’t a big, epic, Last of the Mohicans kind of kiss, but gentle and warm. Exploratory—a greeting. And in that way, completely devastating, because it made her heart ache with emotion.
He stopped kissing her and she pulled away, but her hands, still in their damp gloves, kept hold of his jacket. With an effort of will, she made herself let go and step back.
He didn’t appear to take offense, but regarded her with solemn thoughtfulness. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”
“Yeah, join the club,” she murmured, then felt embarrassed by the admission. “But, um, we probably shouldn’t start anything.” Oh, man. Had she really said that?
“Why not?”
“Because you and I, we’re…” Her voice trailed off; she couldn’t explain.
“What are we together, Daisy?” His voice was edgy with frustration. “Can you answer me that? Because I’d really like to know.”
“You’re one of my best friends,” she said with pained honesty. “I wish…” So much. There was just so much she wished. That she hadn’t been such a wreck over her parents’ divorce when she’d first met Julian. That the two of them weren’t at such supremely different places in their lives now. That she could figure out how she felt about Logan. She thought about her mom, who hadn’t followed her heart; she’d married the father of her child. It hadn’t really worked out for Mom…or had it? Daisy remembered those photo albums, filled with images of a normal family through happy times and sad. One choice her mom had made had defined their family. It hadn’t been so bad, had it?
She blinked fast and hoped he’d attribute her tears to the icy wind. “There’s never been a good time for us.” She smiled, even though she felt like crying. “What is it that you want, Julian? To date me? To be my boyfriend? To be with someone who lives miles and miles from you, who has a baby to raise? Because that’s the way things are. W
e can go out and do crazy stuff for an hour or two, but then we come back to reality. You’re heading back to Ithaca and I’m going back to Charlie.”
“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about me.”
Didn’t he know? She didn’t have that kind of choice, not anymore.
Twenty-Five
Juggling mail, paperwork from the law office and the dog’s leash, Sophie let herself in and hurried to the wood-burning stove to heat up the cottage. Opal immediately wanted to play, so Sophie made the fire while accompanied by the nasally squeak of a dog toy.
This, then, was Sophie’s life. She spent the day either with Charlie or at the law office. She picked up Opal from Noah’s, where a girl named Chelsea looked after the dog along with the other animals after school. On some days, Max came for a visit; other days, Sophie went to a hockey practice or game. Gayle had introduced her to a few friends; Sophie discovered that not every woman in Avalon was allied with the Romanos. She was becoming a person she didn’t recognize, someone who lived in a small town, creating a network of friends and family. Someone who had a puppy.
And…what was Noah, anyway? A boyfriend? Regardless of what she called him, he had a way of taking up a lot of room in a person’s life, the human equivalent of having a giant, friendly dog in a tiny apartment. No, that wasn’t fair. If Sophie was honest with herself, she wouldn’t have him any other way. She loved his easy humor, un-feigned tenderness and huge appetite for sex, his absolute lack of concern over the fact that they were engaged in a whirlwind affair and his sturdy conviction that this was actually more than an affair.
He called at the usual time, just before dinner. Tonight’s proposal—a hike through the woods with the dogs.
“It’s freezing,” she said.
“Wear an extra layer.”
She met him on the snowy path that wound through the woods surrounding the old dairy farm. When he saw her, he broke into a grin, crossing the snowy expanse to grab her for a kiss. When had she ever felt this wanted? This important to someone—to anyone?