“Thanks for doing this,” she told her mother.
“Of course.”
“I wish you’d say how you really feel.”
“I…Daisy, I can’t, because I just don’t know what I’m feeling. There’s no easy resolution for your situation.”
“You got pregnant at nineteen, and you married Dad and had me. Do you wish you hadn’
t? Was it a mistake? Was Max? Or the past eighteen years?”
“Of course not. Having you was the best and the hardest thing I ever did. Going to law school, trying cases, all that was nothing compared to getting you to sleep at night and keeping you safe. And the only thing that made it bearable was having your dad—my partner, my husband, by my side to help me.”
“But now you’re divorced and we’re all miserable.”
“Our lives are different. Not miserable.”
Speak for yourself,
thought Daisy. I’m
miserable.
Mom rubbed the back of her hand. “I don’t regret anything about the past eighteen years,” she said. “We were a happy family, but your dad and I stopped…being happy together.
It happens.” She paused. “Maybe you should think a bit more about talking to Logan—”
“No way.” That decision had been an easy one to make. She had pictured herself going to Logan O’Donnell, telling him about the baby. That scenario was almost laughable—she and Logan together, raising a baby. Logan had a big ego and a dangerous affinity for beer and worse.
Living with him would be like raising two kids, one of them badly behaved.
She had also thought long and hard about raising the baby by herself. For a young, single mom with no college education and few job skills, it was bound to be a challenge. The counselor she’d seen drummed it into her—the commitment was unrelenting. Raising a child alone meant being without that second pair of hands to help out, that second income to make ends meet, that shoulder to lean on in hard times. A single mom, even one with a loving, supportive family like she had, ultimately had no one but herself to rely on. To Daisy, this was the scariest option of all
—that she would somehow fail the child, inadvertently harming it with her ineptitude or inadequacy, making a blameless child the victim of her own stupidity. And, okay, she was selfish.
She knew if she decided to go through with the pregnancy, her youth would end. She wasn’t ready to give up being free and adventurous, going to concerts and staying out all night, seeing the world, maybe becoming a famous photographer.
At the clinic, a surprisingly homey place in an older building a few blocks from the hospital, she went through more counseling. She was told exactly what to expect, the exact progression of events. At the end of twenty-four hours, she would no longer be pregnant. She would be…empty. It was agony, wondering if she was doing the right thing. She thought of Sonnet, whose mom had faced the same dilemma. And her cousin Jenny, who would never have been born if her accidentally pregnant mother had gotten rid of her. Once this was over, it was something Daisy could never undo, and the permanence of it made her shudder.
The waiting room was half-full. One woman stared at the floor, as though dog-tired, or ashamed. Another leaned back, looking ill and desperate. Another looked absolutely furious.
Two girls younger than Daisy, alike enough to be sisters, sat together whispering and giggling, probably giddy with nerves. Daisy couldn’t imagine saying a word to anyone. As far as she was concerned, you didn’t make idle chitchat about something like this.
There was a checklist to be gone over and filled out and signed, acknowledging the risks and agreeing to hold the clinic blameless in the event of a mishap. The language looked scary to Daisy. Her mom reached over and rubbed her back, the way she used to when Daisy was small.
“It’ll be all right. I’ve studied the statistics. The risks are far lower than the risk of carrying a pregnancy to term.”
Daisy nodded, wishing some sign would come down from above, telling her once and for all the right thing to do. Instead, the minutes crawled by. Her mom waited with her until her name was called. They stood up together and embraced.
“I love you, baby,” her mom whispered.
“I’ll see you soon,” Daisy said.
“I’ll be right here in the waiting room.”
“Okay.” Then she stepped back, took a deep breath and walked through the open door.
Greg paced. He was surprised there wasn’t a path worn in the floor, he’d been pacing so long. Where the hell were they?
He could hear the TV droning in the next room, ripples of dialogue interspersed with studio laughter. Max was at that indiscriminate age; he would watch anything on TV.
For no reason he could put his finger on, Greg felt like crying. He ought to be relieved right about now. Daisy would come home and she’d no longer be pregnant and everything would get back to normal.
Not that normal was any great state of affairs, he thought, hearing a commercial for toenail fungus from the other room. Here he was, in the middle of his life, starting all over again. And he didn’t have his youthful foolishness and drive and naïveté to spur him on. Just the daily grind of worries about his kids and his business. And the God-awful loneliness howling through him as he lay awake each night.
One thing Greg knew about himself—he wasn’t meant to be alone. It wasn’t in his makeup. Sophie used to make this observation about him, postulating that as the youngest sibling, he wasn’t accustomed to being content in his own company.
Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. She postulated about a lot of things. She was a lawyer. She was good at it.
He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and found the business card Nina Romano had given him. It had a water wheel on it—the seal of the city—and Nina Romano, Mayor, with three phone numbers and an e-mail address. He turned the card over to see that she’d written,
“Welcome!” on the back. Did she do this for all newcomers or was he somehow special?
The sound of a car engine startled him and he slipped the card away. Then he ripped open the side door and burst outside. “Is everything all right?” he demanded as Sophie emerged from the driver’s side of her rental car.
Thin-lipped, her expression grave, Sophie nodded. “She’s fine.”
His hands shaking as relief coursed through him, Greg opened the passenger-side door and Daisy got out. She looked unexpectedly well, her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes bright.
“Let me help you inside,” he said.
“In a minute,” she said. “I need to tell you something.”
He glanced at Sophie. Her cool expression told him nothing.
“Dad, I didn’t do it.” There was a giddy, almost hysterical note in her voice.
“You didn’t what?”
“I changed my mind. I’m having this baby.”
Twenty-Four
J
enny’s stomach was in knots as the train’s brakes gnashed to a halt in Avalon. She told herself not to feel bad. Not to be nervous. This was a homecoming. She should be happy about it. About coming home.
Instead, it felt like a defeat. A month ago she had gone to New York City expecting…what? For her life to suddenly turn into an episode of
Sex and the City?
To fling her hat in the air while the world discovered how fabulous she was? To find herself instantly surrounded by interested, fascinating friends? She should have thought things through. If she had, she would have realized that it was impossible to run away from herself. Being in the city, meeting a literary agent who pointed out exactly how much work she needed to do, only magnified the truth. She was like her unfinished book—a work-in-progress. And city life wasn’t what she wanted after all.
With a heaviness in her limbs, she collected her belongings from the overhead rack and headed for the exit. She stepped down onto the platform and was immediately lashed by a blast of cold air, scented with the burning-cinder odor of the engine’s fuel. When the cloud of blowing snow and dust cleared she saw Rourke there, shimmering like a figure in a dream. Very
Casablanca,
right down to his scowl.
She found herself remembering the day she got engaged to Joey. Rourke had been on the verge of telling her something and if she’d let him, maybe everything would have turned out differently. If she lived to be a hundred, Jenny would never forget the look in Rourke’s eyes that day. They’d turned flinty and hard, flash-frozen by her words.
Joey asked me to marry him.
One moment, she thought. One moment, she’d let her true feelings waver. One moment of doubt, and she’d opened the door for Joey. One moment, and she’d made a mess of three lives.
“Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so,’” she warned Rourke. She wondered if the memories showed on her face.
“It seems I don’t need to,” he said, though there was no satisfaction in his voice.
She stood there like an idiot. Was she supposed to hug him? Give him a kiss on the cheek? What did he expect? “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she finally said.
He took her heavier bag and headed for the exit. No hug. Not even a “hey.” A smile was too much to hope for. As for that goodbye kiss, she might have imagined it. “I figured you’d need a ride,” he told her.
“Thanks, Rourke.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I came here to intercept you.”
“What?”
“To stop you from going off to Camp Kioga.”
Their boots crackled over the ice-crusted surface of the parking lot. “Then you wasted a trip,” she said. “My mind is made up. For the foreseeable future, that’s my new address.”
He slung her bags into the back of the Ford Explorer. “It’s ten miles from nowhere.”
“Which I find extremely appealing, especially after experiencing life in the big city.” She climbed in the passenger side.
“You’re staying with me,” he said, starting the engine.
She laughed. “I just love a man who’s not afraid to boss people around.”
“I’m serious, Jenny.”
She stopped laughing. “Oh, my God. You are.”
“Living that far away in the middle of winter is a bad idea.”
“So is bossing me around.”
“This has nothing to do with any bossing of anyone. There are just too many reasons for you not to live up there.”
“Those are your reasons, not mine.”
They pulled into the truck bay behind the bakery where her car was parked in a utility shed. Jenny found herself sorting through a confusing array of reactions. She was reluctantly but undeniably happy to see him. And stupidly thrilled to know he was worried about her. And annoyed at the same time.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll call you every night to let you know the ax murderer let me live another day.”
“Not good enough.”
“It is for me,” she said. “Deal with it.”
He was silent as he transferred the luggage from his car to hers. Fine, she thought. Let him sulk. It wasn’t her job to keep him from worrying about her.
“I can take care of myself,” she assured him. “I’ve done it all my life, and I can do it now.
Let’s stop in at the bakery. I’ll give you a Napoleon.”
They entered by way of the back door and were greeted by a cacophony of busy noises, the clang of racks being moved around, the whir and grind of machinery, and the smooth ripples of jazz from the stereo.
Jenny inhaled, and felt the yeasty, fresh atmosphere invade every cell of her body. She was home. Until she’d gone away, she hadn’t realized how much this place was a part of her.
Whether she liked it or not, this bakery was in her blood and bones. It was knit into her very soul.
“There you are, you city slicker.” Laura came out of the office to wrap her in a soft-armed embrace. “The place hasn’t been the same without you. But I want you to know, we’re getting along fine.” She eyed Rourke. “Most of us, anyway.”
He scowled at her. “I’m trying to persuade her not to move up to the cabin.”
“Why not?” Laura asked. “It’s perfect—away from it all, the ideal place to work on her book.”
“I heard you were moving to the winter lodge.” Daisy Bellamy came whisking through the double door from the shop front. “It’s great out there,” she said, her face sparkling with animation. “You’ll love it. We spent the summer at Camp Kioga last year and it was fantastic.”
“Thank you,” Jenny said emphatically to both Daisy and Laura. “It’s nice to know some people think it’s a good idea.” She went upstairs to her office to get some files she wanted to work on. Daisy followed her, hovering in the doorway. “I need to tell you something.”
“All right.”
“In private.” Daisy glanced over her shoulder, then stepped into the office.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” But the girl’s face had gone from sparkling to the color of cold oatmeal. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and upper lip, and, looking at her, Jenny felt a thrum of worry.
“Daisy, have a seat. Do you feel all right?”
Daisy rubbed her hands on the front of her apron. “I get a little nauseous now and then, but I’m not sick. I’m pregnant.”
The statement hit Jenny like a blow. Daisy, pregnant. She was just a kid. Of course, there was no reason for this to come as a surprise. Teenage girls had been getting themselves in trouble since the beginning of time. Beautiful, smart girls with their whole futures ahead of them—Jenny’s own mother. Her best friend, Nina. Every girl who ever let passion sweep away caution and common sense put herself at risk of an unplanned pregnancy.
Okay,
she thought.
Deep breath.
She tried to imagine what Daisy was feeling. This was huge. Daisy was no dummy. She knew it was huge.
Daisy shut the door behind her and sat in a chair across from Jenny. Her chin trembled and she drew in a sharp breath, then faced Jenny squarely. “I don’t know where to start,” she said.
“How about you start by telling me anything you feel like telling me. I might not have any answers, but I promise I won’t judge you or get angry. Nothing like that.”
Daisy slumped a little. “Thanks.”
It felt strangely gratifying to have her young cousin’s confidence. Yet she felt helpless as well. What in the world could she tell this girl, or do for her, that could make a difference?
Daisy was eerily controlled when she began to speak. “It was just before my mom was due to go overseas. Between that and the divorce, I was all messed up. And then they both started ragging on me about college, you know?”