Blue Heart Blessed (25 page)

Dear Harriet,

I should be mad. I should be upset.

I should be indignant.

But I’m not any of those things. Honestly, I am sitting here in my apartment in the middle of the night, awake, unable to sleep, and what I am feeling is longing. I long for Ramsey. I long for him to be at peace.

Am I insane?

Is it completely unreasonable that all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and hold him until it stops? Until the hurt inside him stops?

Tell me, tell me I am not being unreasonable.

I ache for him to be free of what holds him.

He has somehow misunderstood me completely. I’ve no idea how to make him understand. And his words cut me deep.

And yet I ache for him.

Tell me I’m not crazy.

Dear Daisy,

You are not crazy.

You just love him, warts and all.

And that kind of love is the most reasonable thing there is.

Harriet

W
endy and Philip have returned from the Boundary Waters. They came in late last night. I actually heard them on the stairs at two in the morning. Not because they were being noisy but because I was awake.

It’s a little after nine now and Wendy is in my office to tell me she hears the noises again in her bathroom. She doesn’t look particularly well.

“You’re home early. Are you okay?”

“No, I must be coming down with something. I feel rotten. So are you going to come listen to this noise, Daisy? I heard it just now.”

“Actually, Max heard it, too, while you were gone. He brought me up to his place for a listen. And I did hear it in his bathroom. We think it might be bats in between the walls.”

“Bats! I hate bats!”

“Yes, but they’re in between the walls. They’re not exactly inside your apartment.”

“Well, they may as well be!”

“Mario is looking into it, okay? He’s trying to find out where they’re getting in. When he does, he’ll plug it up.”

“How long will that take?”

“I really don’t know, Wendy. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

“All right, I guess.”

“You should go take a peek at the garden on the roof, Wendy. Ramsey finished it. It’s just lovely.”

“Maybe later. I don’t feel that great.”

She turns and heads out of my office. Just the mention of the garden fills me with a yearning to head to the roof and absorb its beauty into my weary body.

The sleepless night is tugging at me, and it is only a little after nine.

Mom is ready to open the store when I tell her I am going to get another cup of coffee from my apartment and a few rays of sunshine from my roof.

She waves at me.

A few minutes later, cup in hand, I head to third floor. Ramsey stayed here last night at Reuben’s request. Mom told me this morning that Reuben is taking Ramsey to meet some friends here in the Twin Cities who also own downtown property. He’s got several business acquaintances who are interested in Ramsey’s green roofs. It could turn out to be a very profitable few days for Ramsey. I’m happy for him, of course.

I’m surprisingly not afraid to go the third floor. I’m not afraid of running into Ramsey, but I hope I don’t. I have no idea what I will say to him if I do. It seems like whenever I open my mouth, I say the wrong thing. When I pass the door to the apartment where he is staying, I run my hand across the door in a silent prayer for him. And for me.

The morning sun on the roof is exuberant and my Adirondack chairs are warm to the touch. I ease down into one and drink in the splendor around me. The little blue heart is back in my pocket where I guess it belongs.

A bird chirps nearby. The fragrance of soft blooms scents the air. I can nearly smell the color green. This will be the one lovely moment of my day, I’m sure of that.

At least there will be this.

It is not easy to stay focused on wedding dresses today. Not easy by a long shot. Ramsey and Reuben are gone most of the morning and into the afternoon. I don’t actually see either one of them. Ramsey, I’m sure, won’t step into Something Blue unless he absolutely has to. And Reuben isn’t exactly staying at The Finland. Sometime before five, L’Raine comes back down to the store after checking on Father Laurent and tells me Ramsey has returned and that my Mom has left to go have dinner with Reuben. L’Raine gives me a concerned look.

“Daisy, you look so tired. Let me close up the store, dear. You look absolutely bushed.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do. Go.”

She shoos me away and I don’t argue with her. I head up the stairs with not much spring in my step.

I put a kettle on when I get to my apartment and change into a pink cotton sundress that makes me feel feminine and lovely when I wear it.

I want to keep a positive attitude about the ways things have transpired but I can feel the loneliness creeping in. Max has Bettina. Shelby has Eric. Wendy has Philip. Mario has Rosalina. I’m beginning to think Mom has Reuben.

I turn the kettle off. I don’t want tea. I don’t know what I want.

God, speak to me. Speak to me.

I lean against the wall to my kitchen and close my eyes waiting for my Deliverer. Seconds later I hear the sound of music. Violin and piano. I recognize the tune at once and it feels me with longing. It’s from Handel’s
Messiah
. “He Shall Feed His Flock Like a Shepherd.” My dad loved this one. It was always his favorite piece of the entire oratorio, so it was always mine, too. The mere sound of these notes traveling through my head and heart fill me with memories both tender and bittersweet. It is almost like the sound of an answered prayer.

I open my front door and the music weaves its way in. I step out and follow its source to the third floor. Solomon’s door is open and the music is flowing out of it. I tiptoe in as if under a spell. Wendy and Philip are sitting on Solomon’s couch, drawn from next door by the beauty of the music. Father Laurent is there, too.

Ramsey is at the piano. Solomon is standing next to him, his violin playing the alto solo line. It’s so beautiful…

Father Laurent sees me come in but I’m barely aware that he has noticed. I lean back against the wall of Solomon’s living room and I let the music fall across me. I hear the words that no one is singing. Such beautiful words…

Come unto Him all ye that labour

Come unto Him, ye that are heavy laden

And He will give you rest.

Take His yoke upon you and learn of Him

For He is meek and lowly of heart

And ye shall find rest,

And ye shall find rest unto your souls.

I’ve never really noticed how much this song sounds like a love song. The melody, the waltzing meter, the faultless key it is written in—all of it is a love song heralding the love of all loves. Perfect and endless and too beautiful for words. It pours into my empty heart and I can barely stand it. This is what Father Laurent was trying to remind me of. This is that love he spoke of, the love that completes me and gives me rest unto my soul.

It’s the love that says I am precious, chosen and worth dying for. The love that all little girls dream of having.

I’m not aware when I start to weep. I only know that suddenly the room is quiet, the piece is over, I am crying and all eyes are on me. Wendy, Philip, Solomon—they all look at me like I’ve gone mad. Father Laurent’s expression is one of absolute concern. Ramsey is staring at me, too. I cannot describe his expression other than to say it is annoyed amazement.

I run from the room.

There is o
nly one place to run to.

The chapel.

The store is closed when I burst inside it. L’Raine has gone upstairs, thank goodness. I dash for the chapel door, yank it open and slam it shut. I lean my back against the door and wait for the sounds of pursuit. But only one person in that apartment would think to find me here.

And Father Laurent does not come.

I hold my breath and wait but I hear nothing.

No one is coming.

I stumble toward the altar and let myself collapse upon it. The tears keep coming. They seem to be coming from everywhere. From every hurting place I’ve ever known.

They probably sound like tears of despair but this is not what they feel like. They feel like tears of release. Painful, but not unbearable. Agonizing but not entirely unwelcome. And I just let them come. Half of me aches over loving a man who does not love me. Again.

The other half is in renewed awe at being the beloved of God himself. Again and again and again.

When at last my sobs have quieted, I just lay there in the peaceful quiet of that lovely, holy room.

Alone, but not alone.

I
n my dream, my father is standing over me. I am seated at his piano and he is right behind me. I place my fingers over the keys and press them down, but there is no sound. I press harder. Nothing.

“I can’t get it to play, Dad!”

He touches me on the shoulder. “Daisy?”

I bang my fingers on the keys. There is no sound.

“It won’t play!”

“Daisy?”

Daisy.

My eyes fly open. There is no piano. My father vanishes. Ramsey is kneeling beside me on the altar. It is his hand on my shoulder, not my dad’s. He was the one saying my name.

I sit up in one swift movement, every fiber in me at alert. I had been asleep. Why am I in the chapel? What’s going on?

Then I remember.

I turn to Ramsey and his eyes no longer resemble cold metal. They have grown soft. He looks as though he may have been crying, too. I reach out my hand to touch his face. And he meets my hand with his.

Am I still dreaming?

“Daisy, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Am I awake? I look at my watch on my other hand to get my bearings. I had only been asleep for twenty minutes. It seems like so much longer.

“I’m so sorry,” Ramsey says.

I know what he has said. I understand those three words. But my mind seems fuzzy with remnants of sleep. I don’t know why he is apologizing. “What?” I whisper.

“I’m so sorry.”

I pull my hand out of his to brush hair away from my face. Confusion is settling over me like a too-thick blanket. I feel less awake, not more.

“Daisy, I didn’t know.”

His face is bent close to mine; his eyes are searching for mine. I let my eyes meet his.

“What? What didn’t you know?” I ask.

He closes his eyes and sighs like he’s disgusted with himself. “Anything. I didn’t know anything.” He opens them again. “I assumed all the wrong things.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“I don’t understand.” Truer words were never spoken. I’m absolutely clueless.

He exhales. “I thought you were seeing Max.”

Max?

Max?

“What do you mean?” I sputter.

“I thought he was your boyfriend. Liam made it seem like he was and I—”

“Liam?”

“Yes, Liam. He made it seem like Max was your boyfriend. And I saw you two going places together. You were at the hospital with Dad together. He went with you and your friend to the lake over the Fourth. And sometimes you’d be at his apartment. I just assumed you were his girlfriend.”

“But I’m not. Max is like a brother to me. He
has
a girlfriend.”

“I know, I know. But that’s what I
thought
. When you touched me, when Kristen was there on the roof and you reached out and touched me, I… my first thought was, I liked it. I wanted you to touch me like that. I had been wanting it. I wanted it when I first saw you in the airport helping that woman with her bags, and then again when I saw how you cared for my father and then again when you were singing to yourself on the roof. But you were Max’s girlfriend. And I was thinking that you shouldn’t touch a man like that if you are seeing someone else. And then when that other guy showed up to take you out for coffee, all I could think of was Max doesn’t deserve for you to treat him like that. To flirt with me and then to go have coffee with another man. I had it totally wrong.”

My mouth is open and no words are coming out. His words are buzzing around in my head, pinging like they are electrically charged:
I wanted you to touch me like that. I wanted you to touch me like that.

“Daisy, I didn’t know that other guy was some blind date your mom was trying to set you up with. I didn’t know Max was just a childhood friend. I didn’t know you had been hurt like I had been hurt. That you knew how hard it has been for me to get my life back.”

He knows about Daniel.

“Your father told you.”

“Yes, he told me. After you ran from Solomon’s apartment, he asked me what it was I had done. I told him he should be asking
you
that. He got angry and told me to come back to his apartment. So I followed back over and I started telling him what you were doing to Max. I told him I hadn’t said anything to him before because he thought so highly of you and I didn’t want him to know what you were doing. That’s when he told me how wrong I was. About everything.”

I feel my face growing warm. The heat of embarrassment can take the chill right out of air-conditioned air. “He told you everything?”

Again I sense Ramsey searching to make eye contact but I can’t look at him. “He told me you were engaged last year. That your fiancé broke off your engagement ten days before your wedding. That you opened this store to try and sell your wedding dress. And that you still have it.”

Yep, that would be about everything.

“I know why you did what you did on the roof.” His face is still very close to mine. “You knew what I had been through.”

My eyes are growing misty again. I raise them to meet Ramsey’s gaze. His eyes look glassy, too. “I didn’t want her to think she still had power over you,” I whisper. “I didn’t want
you
to think she still had power over you.”

Ramsey takes my hand again. “And that’s exactly what happened, Daisy. When you touched me and I looked up at you, I knew she didn’t anymore. That’s when I knew.”

Something magical
had
passed between us. I hadn’t imagined it. “That’s when I knew it, too,” I murmur. “That I didn’t love Daniel anymore.”

“But I thought you belonged to Max and it about drove me crazy that I was still attracted to you. I kept telling myself it wasn’t right to feel that way about you. Of all people, I
knew
that. And when I saw in your eyes that you felt something for me, too, I just got angry. I started thinking of Kristen and how she let herself get swept away. I’m so sorry, Daisy. I had it all wrong.”

I finally begin to understand. “The moment before Marshall came in the store, you were going to say something to me. What was it?”

Ramsey shakes his head. “I was going to confront you. I was going to ask you what on earth were you doing, flirting with me when you belonged to Max.”

“You thought I was being unfaithful to Max.”

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Daisy. I’ve been a fool.”

Ramsey still has his hand wrapped around mine. He looks down at our hands. “Daisy, my father told me you’ve been confiding in him about all this. That you told him you . . . you had feelings for me.”

I swallow. “Yes. I did tell him that.”

“So, is it too late?”

He’s stroking my thumb.

“What?” My voice is uneven and childlike.

“After all I’ve done to you, is it too late?”

“Too late for what?”

He lifts his head to look at me. Tears are pooling in his eyes. “Is too late for me. For us.”

All I can do is shake my head. No. No. No.

He looks alarmed, like I am telling him no.

“It’s not too late,” I whisper.

Ramsey’s face wrinkles into something like anguish, but I know it’s not the pain of loss that is gripping him. It is the ache of finally having what you thought you never could. A tear spills over onto his cheek. I reach out to catch it and this time he doesn’t stop me.

Ramsey turns his head to rest his cheek against my open palm. “When I finally understood, I thought for sure I’d lost you.”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

He pulls my hand away and kisses my fingertips. Then he leans over, touches my face, which is wet like his, and kisses me.

And I finally understand how love can happen to you when you are busy searching for what you think matters most to you.