Blue Heart Blessed (11 page)

Dear Harriet,

I hardly know where to begin.

I guess I can start by telling you that I don’t need to worry about becoming Daisy Dacey because it’s never going to happen. Max isn’t in love with me. And yes, I know I’m not in love with him, either. But I’ve wondered over the years if maybe he has romantic feelings for me. I can assure you he doesn’t. Not since he was seventeen, anyway.

He says loving someone so much that you commit to spending the rest of your life with them is like becoming a prisoner. It’s like the ultimate surrender. You cease to be your own. It sounds medieval when I write it. It didn’t sound like a life sentence you’d want to get out of when Max said it. It sounded like a life sentence you hope will never end.

I don’t know why I told you that first. That is not the most unsettling thing that happened to me today.

Daniel called me. While I was out. He left a message saying he wants to see me. Can you believe it? He actually sounded like he’s sorry for what he did to me. Yeah, I know he apologized back then but today he sounded like he truly regretted what he did. That’s different. Before he was just sorry he had hurt me. Now he sounds like he wishes he could take it all back. Like he wishes he hadn’t broken off our engagement.

He said he would try calling me again later.

I went to Rosalina’s and Mario’s hoping he’d call while I was gone and he didn’t. So when I came back from dinner I was a mess waiting for him to call, and he didn’t. Finally at nine-thirty, I called Shelby and we talked for an hour and I kept waiting to hear that “call-waiting” sound and I didn’t hear it.

Shelby thinks I shouldn’t give him a second chance. I asked her what if he’s changed? What if he’s a different guy? And she said Daniel needs to prove it first. Shelby asked me if I still loved him and I told her I’ve been trying so hard this last year to convince myself that I don’t love him that I really don’t know what I feel. I can tell she wants me to keep my distance with Daniel. Easy for her to say. She’s got his great new boyfriend who’s already taken her to meet his family and who buys her flowers all the time and who puts little notes in her desk in her classroom.

Father Laurent says I should wait on God for direction.

Max says I should I wait until my socks get knocked off.

Shelby says I should wait for someone who deserves me.

And I just see myself as an old woman sitting on the curb with ugly socks on her feet waiting for something to happen.

What does Harriet say?

I’m trying to watch The Sound of Music. But I keep listening for the stupid phone even though it’s after eleven. Did you know when Fraulein Maria is walking down the aisle in that beautiful Salzburg cathedral with a mile-long train on her wedding dress and that beautiful stately music that gives me goose bumps, the nuns are singing, “How do you solve a problem like Maria?” I mean, the score sounds as lovely as Pachelbel’s Canon and she looks radiant in that wedding dress and the nuns are singing about what a problem she is.

But no one is listening to the words.

It’s all about the beautiful dress, the cathedral, her march down the aisle, the orchestration that accompanies her, and the look on Maria’s smiling, veiled face.

No one is thinking what a problem she is.

Dear Daisy,

Regarding your current dilemma: Max is a good friend. Someone you can trust to be perfectly honest with you. Shelby is a good friend, too. She is not being cautious because she’s happily in love and you’re not. She’s cautious because she cares about you. And Father Laurent is the consummate friend—perceptive and compassionate.

And then of course there’s me. Your
Voice of Reason. I tell you what deep down you already know.

You’re really very lucky to have four such devoted comrades at your side.

You know what I will tell you.

I’ll tell you that if Daniel calls back and you refuse to see him, you will always wonder what it was he would’ve said. Always.

I know you well enough to know you won’t want to live with that hanging over you. Especially while you wander about the planet waiting for your socks to be blown off your feet.

Should you start seeing him again?

My dear, he hasn’t asked you yet.

You are always trying to hop your way across bridges before you get to them. Wait until you come to the point when you have to choose. And even then, you don’t have to make up your mind until you’re ready to take a step forward.

Yes, no one is paying much attention to the words when Maria walks down the aisle. It’s indeed the music we hear. The way the notes are being played. In that one, perfect way they were meant to be played.

Harriet

M
om, L’Raine and I are standing in front of a dress form bearing my latest acquisition; a 1920s gown I bought on approval from a woman on the East Coast who phoned me and told me about it.

The three of us are trying to decide if we like it.

Actually, it’s Mom and L’Raine who are contemplating its virtues. I am half in and half out of the conversation. More out than in.

I didn’t sleep well last night.

I kept hearing “The Lonely Goatherd” song in my head, a mind-numbing effect from watching
The Sound of Music
late at night when I should’ve been in bed.

And then of course, I couldn’t get Daniel’s call out of my mind. I even got up once and listened to the phone message again, just to hear his voice. Not just the sound of his voice, but the sound of regret in his voice.

He really wants to see me.

He sounds remorseful.

Okay, so why didn’t he call back then?

He said he’d call back later. Doesn’t that usually mean the same day?

Maybe he’s afraid I really don’t want to see him and he’s putting off calling me back because he really had to work up the courage to call me the first time. It’s possible he might think I don’t want to see him. We parted on kind of a harsh note.

I don’t know if “harsh” is the right word.

Less-than-amicable terms?

See, the trouble with breaking an engagement ten days before the wedding is you have to conduct so much of the break-up together. Laugh if you will, but it’s true. You have to break up together. You have to coordinate who’s going to cancel what. Who’s going to give back what. It’s like a divorce with no lawyers, no court, no papers, no façade to hide behind. All you have is the evidence of your shared dream now shattered. And you have to jointly sweep away the shards. I hated it.

I’m going to put that in my
Rules of Disengagement
. That’s going in the first chapter. That there’s more to calling off a wedding than just not showing up at the church. Canceling a wedding just days before it’s supposed to happen is as labor-intensive as deciding to throw one together at the last minute. And it takes an emotional toll you wouldn’t believe, especially if you’re the one who was walked out on.

So, yes, I was a bit unstable around Daniel the days of our highly orchestrated break-up. And then I went out of my way to avoid him at the place where we both worked until I got out of there and into The Finland and Something Blue. Oh, and I did cry like a child on his mother’s shoulder when she came over to my apartment to “say goodbye.”

The one time he called me afterward, to see how I was doing, I could barely speak to him. Not because I was angry but because I was so taken by emotion. He surely thought I was being curt with him because I was mad. I wasn’t being curt. I was just mute with throat-closing numbness; the kind you get when words just simply fail you.

So, I guess I can see where Daniel might wonder if I really don’t want to see him.

Still, he should’ve called me back last night.

You don’t set out to win someone back by saying you’re going to call back later and then not call back…

“Daisy!”

I yank myself out of my mental somersaults. Mom is staring at me. So is L’Raine. “What?”

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Mom’s eyes are locked on mine.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. What did you say?”

“I said, maybe Rosalina could add some champagne-colored lace to make it truly an off-white dress. We’re never going to be able to convince anyone this is white.”

“Sure.”

“Daisy, what is it?”

For a second I just stand there, looking at the dress but not really looking at it. Then I open my mouth and a flood of words spills out. “Daniel called me last night. He wants to see me. And I don’t know what I want to do. I didn’t actually talk to him. I didn’t have my cell phone with me when he called and he left a message. He said he’d call back. And he hasn’t.”

“Oh my!” L’Raine whispers.

“What does he want to see you about?” Mom’s eyes are wide with speculation and concern.

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. He sounded . . . he sounded apologetic.”

“Oh my, oh my.” L’Raine is shaking her head.

Mom’s brow is creased with consternation. “Daisy, I don’t know.”

“You suppose he’s had a change of heart?” L’Raine’s eyes are glassy with ready tears.

Mom shoots her a look of caution. “Well, he shouldn’t expect just like that that Daisy wants him back. He ought to have to fight for her.”

Mom turns her head back to me. “Make him fight for you. Play hard to get.”

“Mom!”

“I’m serious. You make him woo you back. He has to make up for all the trouble and heartache he’s caused you!”

“I knew of a man who once sent the woman he loved and had hurt a dozen roses every day until she agreed to marry him,” L’Raine says dreamily.

“L’Raine.” Mom’s voice is stern. “Flowers don’t compensate for wrongs suffered.”

L’Raine shrugs. “They don’t hurt, either.”

I should’ve kept my mouth shut about the whole thing. “Let me just take this one step at a time, okay?”

“Just be careful, Daisy.”

“I will, Mom, I promise.”

I leave them to haggle over the color of the vintage dress and Daniel’s true intentions. A customer has walked in the door. I can tell she’s a woman engaged to be married and is looking for the perfect dress. I can see it in her eyes.

The morning passes slowly, as Monday mornings do, and as the afternoon begins its lazy crawl the phone rings at Something Blue. I’m in the little office in the back and I pick it up.

“Daisy? It’s Daniel.”

Daniel.

Heart, stop fluttering like a hummingbird on caffeine. Voice, please continue to keep working.

“Hello, Daniel.” Nicely delivered. Soft. Under control. Not a trace of fear, feistiness or phlegm.

“Did I call at a bad time?” He sounds very accommodating. Polite.

“No. It’s not too busy at the moment.”

“Um, I tried calling you yesterday. I guess you got my message?”

“Yes.”

“So. So, would it be okay if I came over?”

Heart isn’t paying attention to instructions. Voice, do not fail me.

“Come over? You mean here? To the store?”

Three dumb questions in a row. Voice is also a traitor.

“Would that be okay?” He sounds insistent, but nicely so.

“Well, when?”

“I’m taking today off so I was hoping to come by today. Like now, if that’s okay.”

My stomach has now joined the mutinous company of other bodily organs. It is twisting madly inside me. I sense movement in the doorway of my office and I look up. Mom is peeking her head in. Does she know who I’m talking to? She has a very severe look on her face.

“I’m… now wouldn’t actually be the best time for me.” I can hardly believe I’ve said this. Mom starts to smile like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh. Any chance later on would be better?”

“Well…” I feign a look at a busy calendar. “Maybe just before closing today. Like four? No, more like four-thirty.”

“Sure. Okay. And thanks, Daisy. I’ll come by your place at four-thirty.”

I suddenly do not want Daniel to step into a sea of used wedding dresses with mine bobbing helplessly in the mix. “I’d rather just meet somewhere, Daniel.” Mom’s grin widens. She thinks I’m being coy. I’m a coward—that’s what I am.

“Um. Okay. That ice cream place you like?”

Daniel remembers I like gelato
… “Sure, that’d be fine.”

“Okay. Well. See you then.”

“Bye, Daniel.”

As I hang up Mom walks away whispering, “Well done, Daisy.”

The afternoon slogs by like cold ketchup at a March picnic. I try not to watch the clock, but I do. I try not to practice in my head the lines I might try on Daniel—like, “I think we should take it slow this time, Daniel”—but I do. I resist the urge to go upstairs to my apartment to put something else on. I am already wearing a very fashionable celery green suit with an ecru silk top underneath.

But green isn’t Daniel’s favorite color on me. Pink is.

I end up spending the hours tossing away these thoughts every twenty minutes all the while trying to absorb Mom’s and L’Raine’s well-intentioned advice, which also besets me every twenty minutes.

Don’t take him back all at once.

Don’t hurt his feelings.

Smile.

Don’t cry.

Ask how he’s been.

Don’t fidget.

Don’t eat anything colored.

Don’t hug him hello. Don’t hug him goodbye, either.

By four-ten, I’m a walking basket case. Max comes into Something Blue as I’m trying to fluff up my curls in one of the floor length mirrors.

He says hello and starts to walk past me to the door to the stairs when Mom decides he needs to know where I’m going.

“Daniel called her and wants to meet her,” she announces to Max as he walks past us. “Can you believe it?”

Max stops, turns, and stares at me. “He does?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Max.” I yank a lipstick tube out of my purse and begin to apply a thin coat.

“I’m not surprised he called you, I’m just surprised you’re going.”

I turn away from the mirror. “Why is that?”

He blinks. “Because.” And he says nothing else. He doesn’t mention our conversation on the back stairs yesterday. But I’m sure he’s thinking about it.

“She’s being smart this time,” Mom says in my defense and Max just shrugs.

I’ve got to get out of here. It’s early yet, but I’ll walk slowly.

“I’m leaving.” I grab my purse and walk away before anyone can give me any more advice about anything.