by Susan Wiggs
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t.” Sarah laughed again. “It’s probably hard to believe, but not so long ago, we weren’t sure Jack would even be around to play tennis at all.” She paused, then said, “The fact is, he just finished treatment for cancer.”
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t know.”
“He’d be delighted to hear that. He hated looking like a patient.”
Nina turned to watch him holding open the gate to the tennis court. “He definitely doesn’t look like a patient.”
Sarah beamed at him. “This is our first vacation since before he was diagnosed. We came here to get to know one another again, post-treatment. Away from all the hospitals and labs and doctor visits.” Her smile was a thousand watts strong. “We really want to reconnect as a couple.”
So why was the husband off playing tennis? Nina didn’t allow herself to ask. This was simply further proof that she wasn’t cut out for relationships. She tended to read them all wrong.
“You picked a beautiful place to reconnect,” she said, indicating the brochures. She directed Sarah to the most scenic drives and the best shopping in the area. “In Phoenicia, you don’t want to miss the Mystery Spot—the most amazing collection of antiques and ephemera I’ve ever seen. If you like going out to breakfast, try the pancakes there, at Sweet Sue’s. However, I’m biased toward Avalon. There’s plenty to do right here. Be sure to hit the Camelot Bookstore. The Apple Tree Inn is best for fine dining. And the Sky River Bakery is probably the best in the state—maybe the whole country.”
“Thanks. You’re a walking chamber of commerce.”
“I was the mayor for four years,” Nina explained. “Assistant to the mayor before that.”
“You’re kidding. That’s really impressive.”
“It’s a small town with a salary to match,” Nina said. “People weren’t exactly beating a path to the door of the mayor’s office. But it was a stable job, and I needed that while my daughter was in high school.”
Sarah gave a short laugh. “Now I’m completely intrigued. You have a daughter in high school?”
“Not anymore. She graduated in May.”
“You look like you’re just out of high school.”
“Sonnet’s off to college at the end of summer, and I’m facing an empty nest.” Nina wondered if saying so would ever get easier. “It’s not that I’m not completely happy for her. She’s all about study and travel. She’s living a life I never did.”
“What, the travel? The studies? You could be doing that now. It’s not too late.”
“The funny thing is, I didn’t have to go anywhere in order to figure out that the life I want is right here.”
“Well, you’re lucky. Sometimes people feel like strangers in their own lives.”
Nina suspected Sarah was directing the comment at herself. “Can I see what you’re drawing?”
Sarah turned the sketchbook toward her.
Nina was impressed. The pictures were cartoons, but some how Sarah had managed to express an array of human emotions through the stylized, comical figures. “Ever read a comic strip called ‘Just Breathe’ with Lulu and Shirl?” Sarah asked.
“Lulu and Shirl? They’re in the Avalon Troubadour every day.” The characters were a quirky mother and daughter, a long-time divorcee and a younger woman whose marriage was teetering on the verge of failure. “You mean you’re the creator of Lulu and Shirl? I’ve never met a cartoonist before.”
“I told Jack I didn’t care where we went for our getaway, but it had to be in a place where the local paper carried my strip. I found the Inn at Willow Lake on the Web in a search for romantic hotels. Romantic hotels in towns where ‘Just Breathe’ is available. That definitely narrowed down the options. The Web site is beautiful, by the way.”
“I think so, too,” Nina agreed. “The photography was all done by the owner’s daughter.”
“She’s very talented.”
“She’ll be thrilled to hear that, especially from a fellow artist.” Nina made a mental note to pass on the compliment. She knew from experience that a girl in Daisy’s position needed all the positive reinforcement she could get.
“So are you working on your comic strip?” Nina asked Sarah.
“Sort of. I’m doing some preplanning for a future storyline, so it doesn’t feel like work.” She flipped a page of the sketchbook and turned it toward Nina again. The character known as Shirl was studying a pregnancy-test stick, a cross-eyed look of intense concentration and hope on her face.
“I’m praying life will imitate art,” Sarah explained. “Jack and I both want children so badly, and…well, the sooner the better. After his illness, it hit me that the future’s so uncertain. We shouldn’t put off something we want. Now, hold still and I’ll make a sketch for you.”
“Really? Thanks.” Nina thought about Sarah’s unquestioning devotion to her husband. Maybe this was Nina’s trouble with relationships. She wanted everything just so. She not only wanted those long-lashed eyes, she wanted them trained on her and her alone. She probably wanted something—someone—who didn’t exist. Maybe it was better that way. If she wanted someone who didn’t exist, she wouldn’t waste her time looking.
Which was one of the more pathetic notions she’d had. She was supposed to be living the single life, dating, being carefree, going out with friends.
Watching Sarah draw, Nina wondered what it would be like to yearn for a child with such fervor. Although Nina had the unasked-for gift of a daughter, she didn’t know what it was like to hope and plan and ache for a baby.
Sarah Moon was a reminder to Nina that life’s journey could include overwhelming hardships, and that love wasn’t always easy. Sometimes there were terrible things like a cancer diagnosis or infertility. Still, it was clear that facing trouble with someone you love made the burdens bearable and the joys sweeter. Too bad her husband was an ass, Nina thought. Then she felt guilty for her cynicism.
Sarah finished the sketch. Even though it was a caricature, it made Nina look smart and good-humored, and she felt guilty for her critical thoughts about Sarah’s husband. “This is fantastic,” she said. “And you put the inn in the background. It’s a wonderful keepsake, Sarah.”
“Then I insist that you keep it.” She signed it with a flourish and ripped it out of the book.
“I’m getting this framed,” Nina promised her.
Sarah gathered up the maps and area guides. “I’m flattered. And I’m glad we found this place. This feels like another world.”
“I’ve always thought so. It’s always felt like my world.”
“So have you lived here long?” she asked.
“Every minute of my life—so far. I don’t ever want to live anywhere else.”
“Well, I don’t blame you. I woke up this morning and thought to myself, what a great place to get pregnant. And then of course, Jack was gone on his morning run, so I don’t think he had the same thought.”
“I can safely say, no guy in the history of the world ever had that thought,” Nina assured her.
Nineteen
D aisy was taking photographs of Camp Kioga. It didn’t even feel like an actual job, yet it was. Olivia and Connor had been so impressed with her portfolio of pictures of the Inn at Willow Lake that they’d hired her to photograph the camp. Within the next year, they planned to reopen the place as a family resort. Her job was to capture its wild splendor, covering two hundred acres of pristine lakeshore wilderness, with networks of trails through mountains and streams.
Julian had accompanied her, carrying the big duffel bag of gear she needed for the shoot. They had walked up a path to Meerskill Falls, which sprang from the depths of the mountain, crashing down to a fern-fringed pool. She took close-ups of the dewy rhododendron blossoms, made a long exposure of the flume pouring down past the rocks and framed a wide-angle shot of the old concrete bridge that spanned the waterfall.
The full summer foliage obscured the trail leadi
ng to the top of the mountain and the myriad caves gouged into the striated rock. They were ice caves, so cold in their depths that they never thawed. Last winter, she and her friends had made a sinister discovery in one of the caves, evidence of an old, old tragedy. Even now, in the lush heat of summer, she felt a chill at the memory of it.
“You all right?” Julian asked.
Daisy gave herself a mental shake. “Sure. I’m done here.” She straightened up. The motion caused a sharp twinge in the small of her back.
“Really all right?” Julian asked again.
“Yeah. I’m so tired of being pregnant, sometimes I just want to scream.”
“So go ahead and scream.”
“It won’t help. Believe me, I’ve tried it.” She put the lens cap back on the camera. “Sorry, I’m whining. Just tired, I guess.” They headed down the trail together. Julian had been such a good friend to her this summer, just as he had the summer before. Did he know how much she’d learned from him, about being self-reliant and in control? Did he realize that even though she was massively pregnant, she still had a crush on him? She wasn’t going to do anything about it, though. The friendship meant too much to her, and trying to turn it into something more, especially at this point in her life, would probably cause her to lose him entirely.
She couldn’t afford that. With Sonnet gone for the summer, she needed someone to talk to, someone she trusted. “I’ve decided,” she said after a while. “You know, the thing we talked about before.”
“You want to move away.”
She nodded. “Not right now. But…soon. Maybe when the baby’s a few months old. I haven’t told my parents yet.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, boy. If you knew my dad, you’d know why.”
“He’s not going to want you to go.”
“Exactly. See, I never meant to stick around after high school. I mean, how lame is that, living at home?”
“Not lame at all, with what you have going on.”
“Maybe so, but I need to know I’ve got somewhere to go with my life instead of mooching off my dad indefinitely.”
“So do you have a plan?”
“Kind of.”
“He’s not going to like ‘kind of.’ He’s going to want specifics.”
“He’s not going to like anything except his plan, but at least I’m starting to feel okay about going off on my own. Until recently, I was afraid to leave. Not so much for my sake, but for my dad’s. He seemed so lost after the divorce. I was afraid if I left, too, he and Max would…I don’t know, just shrivel up and blow away. Figuratively speaking. I mean, it’s not like I’m the center of their universe or anything, but since my mom left, I’ve felt like I needed to be there for them.”
“What’s changed?”
“My dad doesn’t need me the way he used to. I think he’s dating Nina,” she said.
“Oookay,” Julian said.
“No, listen, it’s important. I can tell they’ve liked each other for a while. I think now they’re more than friends. A lot more.” She hadn’t noticed precisely when it had started, but it was becoming very clear that her father and Nina Romano were more than friends. Like, way more. They were trying not to be obvious about it, yet when they were together, her dad was different. Happier and more animated. And the way he dressed lately was a tip-off, too. Sure, he’d always known how to dress for business, but he fussed over his hair now. Last time they’d gone shopping, he’d spent a full five minutes picking out an antiperspirant. Some days, his belt and shoes even matched.
Daisy’s initial reaction had been surprisingly positive. Prior to this, he’d gone out with a few different women, and Daisy had always found it strange and unsettling. Yet the idea of him with Nina sat well with her, maybe because she was best friends with Sonnet and had always liked Nina. Maybe because Nina was someone Daisy could talk with about the baby—about anything, come to think of it. And definitely because Nina had been a single mom and her life didn’t completely suck. Daisy needed to know things would work out for her. When she looked at Nina, she could see a way for that to happen.
So far, her dad hadn’t said a word about liking Nina. Daisy wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he needed a nudge. Maybe he needed to hear from Daisy that she was in favor of Nina, that she trusted her and even shared confidences with her.
“I don’t get it,” Julian said. “Your dad’s got a girlfriend so that means you get to take off?”
“I’m just saying, if he’s with Nina, I won’t worry so much.”
“You can do that anyway.”
Daisy felt a wave of relief. Of all the people in the world, Julian would understand. He knew exactly what it was like to be a kid, worrying about your parent. “Thanks for listening,” she said, taking his arm, hugging herself against him. It was a dumb thing to do, touching him like that. She let go, suddenly self-conscious. “Um, sorry about—”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m not.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Well, now. Wasn’t that an unexpected reaction?
“You’re looking at me funny,” he said. “Like you don’t trust me.”
“I totally trust you. I’m just surprised you’re able to look past…” Embarrassed, she let her voice trail off.
“What, you being pregnant?” he asked, cutting right to the chase.
“Well, yeah. I guess.”
“You’re not going to be that way forever.”
“But I’m going to have a child forever.” In her more optimistic moments, Daisy pictured herself as the young hot mom, toting a baby around like the latest fashion accessory, as though she were a character on a TV show. Of course, the classes she’d been attending were more reality-based, preparing her for night feedings, safety precautions and diaper rash.
They drove back to the inn, a companionable silence mellowing the atmosphere. As they got out and retrieved her camera gear from the trunk, Daisy said, “I finally sent the papers. To Logan, I mean. Actually, I left a message on his voice mail and finally sent the letter by courier, signature required. So I know for a fact that he got them—this morning, actually.”
“Then it’s done,” Julian said. “That’s good. You can move on.”
“Uh-huh. Except for one itty-bitty detail. Logan has to acknowledge that he got my letter and agree that he doesn’t need to be involved. Once he does that, I’ll feel a lot better.”
“You’re letting him off easy.”
“I don’t think he should be punished.” She didn’t want Logan to have a stake in the child they’d made. If he had no obligations, he’d have no parental rights, as if Logan O’Donnell would even want that.
They took her gear into the house, then went to the kitchen and helped themselves to lemonade. Daisy was standing at the sink when a low-slung BMW Z4 convertible came growling into the parking lot. The icy glass she was holding slipped from her fingers, shattering into the sink.
“Hey, you all right?” Julian asked.
Daisy nodded, wiped her hands on a tea towel. “I’ll clean that up later,” she said. “I, um, I think I’ve got a visitor.” She went outside, feeling suddenly afraid, but she covered her weakness with defiance.
Julian frowned at the tall, flame-haired guy striding straight at her. “Who the hell—”
“That’s Logan,” she said.
“Who the hell is this, your bodyguard?” Logan demanded, glaring at Julian.
Julian glared back. “Does she need one?” He assumed a protective stance, angling himself to the side and slightly in front of Daisy. All the harshness of his rough upbringing shone on his face.
Logan took a step toward him. “You don’t want to threaten me,” he warned. His eyes were narrowed, his body taut. He looked dangerous in his own way, cold and angry.
“And you don’t want to take me on, white boy.”
“Give me a break,” Daisy said in exasperation. “Back off, both of you.”
It was an interesting contrast, to say the least. The kid from nowhere and the heir to a shipping fortune. Julian had survived by his wits and his fists, and was good at using both. Logan, on the other hand, was raised by a small, skilled army of nannies, tutors, coaches and the fine faculty of Manhattan’s Dalton School. He had trophies for rugby, hockey and wrestling, and as Daisy recalled, he loved violent competition.
She put her hand on Julian’s arm. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “Really. I need to talk to him, okay?”
Julian aimed a flinty-eyed glare at Logan. “I’ll be around.” He deliberately brushed against Logan’s shoulder as he made an unhurried turn and sauntered away.
Daisy saw Logan’s hand curl into a fist, and she took hold of his arm. “Don’t even,” she muttered under her breath, holding on until he relaxed. She took her hand away and faced him, more self-conscious than she’d felt in ages. After being gossiped about, poked, prodded, weighed and measured by doctors, she didn’t think she could be made to feel self-conscious.
She was wrong. She looked at Logan and felt as though someone had set her on fire.
Not someone. Logan. He was burning a hole in her with his glare. He tossed aside the courier envelope, not looking to see where it landed. “You couldn’t have called?” he demanded. “It never occurred to you to let me in on your plans? Or—God forbid—give me a say?”
“I think this is the part where you call me a slut and question the baby’s paternity.”
“We can skip that part,” he said.
She lifted her eyebrows. This was unexpected. “We can?”
“You think I don’t know you, Daisy,” he said. “Well, you’re wrong. We’ve known each other since Miss Deering’s class in kindergarten.” He lowered his voice to a husky rasp. “You were never as bad as you wanted people to think.”
Of all the things he might have said to her, she couldn’t have anticipated this. People thought she was promiscuous but that was an illusion. Logan was the only boy she’d ever been with. “Logan—”