Blue Sky Days (10 page)

“I know, baby, but that’s how your mother has always dealt with things. It’s just her way. Be glad you didn’t inherit that from her.”

I snorted, and silently agreed once again. “I told Daddy about Nicholas,” I said after a pause.

Daisy raised her eyebrows and looked at me expectantly.

“He actually sounded happy for me.” He’d almost sounded like his old self, the man I knew when I was ‘daddy’s little girl’ and I worshipped the ground he walked on. I had thought that man was gone forever, but seeing a glimmer of him in our conversation had given me hope.

“And so he should be. I’m sure he’d love Nicholas if he met him.”

“Me too. I told him that he and Mother should come for a visit, and he said he’d love to. When Mother came into the room again and Dad relayed my invitation, she said they shouldn’t have to come all the way here for a visit because I should be at home.” I shook my head and sighed. “Honestly, I can’t see going home any time soon.”

I glanced at Daisy and saw she was trying unsuccessfully to hide a broad grin. Her hand covered her mouth, but her eyes always gave her away. “You know you’re welcome here as long as you want or need, right? I’d be happy to have you here forever,” she said, finally letting a little laugh escape.

“Don’t tempt me. It would definitely be easy to stay here forever.” I paused and thought about it for a moment.
Forever
. I liked the sound of that. Riverview was the first place in my entire life where I felt at home. There were people I loved who loved me in return.

I was comfortable there, and even after just a short time, I knew Riverview better than I had known my own hometown. My mother could swallow her pride and visit if she really wanted to see me—which in all honesty I didn’t think she did. I was sure it had more to do with control than a desire to actually see or be near her only child. I wanted to believe my dad would eventually come without her if he had to, but the sad thing was, I wasn’t completely confident in that notion either. Regardless, there was no reason I couldn’t eventually go home for visits. Just not to stay. Riverview was where I wanted to stay…forever.

I laughed out loud at my realization. Daisy looked at me wonderingly and I laughed harder.

“Were you serious about me staying as long as I want?” I asked.

Daisy’s eyes lit up. “Of course. As long as you want.”

I nodded my head and gave a little shrug. “Okay then.”

“Okay then?”

“Okay then. I’m staying. Riverview is my new home.”

Daisy jumped out of her chair, nearly knocking it over. She threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly, enveloping me in the scent of wild flowers and paint. When she pulled away, her face was shining with tears. “Look at me! Blubbering idiot.”
 
She laughed and wiped at her face. “I’m so happy. This is wonderful!” A fresh wave of tears ran down her face. “Ugh, I’ll be right back.” She bent to place a loud, smacking kiss on my forehead before disappearing inside.

I leaned back in my chair and laughed through my own tears. Inside, I could hear Daisy running water, probably washing her face, and then walking through the house humming softly to herself. I heard the phone ring, and a few seconds later I could hear her talking.

She reappeared in the doorway holding the portable phone, the mouthpiece of which was covered by her hand. All the joy had left her face and she was now expressionless as she held the phone out to me with the mouthpiece still covered. “Speak of the devil,” she said, raising one eyebrow contemptuously. “And I do mean the devil.”

I took the phone from her, confused. “Hello?” I watched Daisy roll her eyes as she turned to walk back into the house. When I heard my mother’s voice on the other end, I understood the reason for Daisy’s disdain.

“Emma? It’s Mom,” my mother said in a sickeningly sweet voice that made my nose crinkle. It also made me instantly suspicious.

“Hello, Mother,” I said slowly. “How are you?”

“Oh I’m fine, dear,” she said, maintaining her sugary tone. “Just missing my girl. How are
you
?”

Now I was
really
suspicious.
My girl
? When had she ever called me that? And I’m sure she missed me about as much as she’d miss a hangnail on her perfectly manicured hands. “I’m good. What’s up?”

She laughed airily as if trying to keep a casual feel to this odd conversation. “Well, like I said, I miss you. I was wondering if you were thinking about coming home yet.”

I knew it. My mother always had an ulterior motive. I thought about the conversation Daisy and I just had, and the decision to make Riverview my new home. “Actually, Mother…” I said slowly, bracing myself for her inevitable slew of angry responses. “Aunt Daisy and I were just talking, and I…I’ve decided to stay in Riverview. Permanently.” I squeezed my eyes shut.

There was a moment of silence when all that could be heard was my mother’s breathing coming heavier and faster with each passing second. “Did Daisy put you up to this?” she asked in a monotone.

“No!” I cried. “Mother, this was
my
idea. Daisy’s supporting me, not ‘putting me up to it’. I
want
to stay in Riverview. I love it here. I’m
happy
here.”

My mother cleared her throat. When she spoke again, all pretense of sugary sweetness was gone. “That’s fine, then. I hope you enjoy your life there. I’ll see you at Christmas I’m sure.”

“
Christmas
?!” I cried. “Mother, don’t be ridiculous, I’ll see you before Christmas. There’s no reason you and Daddy can’t come spend a few days here.”

“We’re very busy,” she said shortly.

“Doing what?” I retorted without thinking. I had never spoken back to my mother.

I heard her take a deep breath, then she slowly repeated, as if through gritted teeth, “
We are very busy, Emma
.”

I shook my head. What was I supposed to say now? I wasn’t the same girl who had left home desperate for my mother’s approval and attention. I was perfectly capable of making my own decisions, yet in her mind my mother had reduced me to a child, incapable of knowing what was best.

But I
did
know what was best for me. I inhaled deeply, about to do something I hoped I wouldn’t regret. With a honey-coated tone that rivaled hers, I said, “See you at Christmas then, Mother,” and I hung up.

CHAPTER 7

After the conversation with my mother, I felt a mixture of exhilaration and nausea. I held the phone in my hand, looking at it warily, waiting for my mother to call back and scold me as if I were a child who had misbehaved. I could hear her voice in my head, disjointed sputterings of “Daisy’s influence…so disrespectful…if I had my way…”

“But you
don’t
have your way, Mother, not anymore. That’s the beauty of it,” I said to myself, straightening my shoulders and letting out a long breath to release the tension that had built inside me.

I went into the house and found Daisy sitting at the kitchen table with a sketchpad and pencil. Her long dark waves fell over one shoulder, creating a curtain of hair around the pad as her pencil scratched across the paper. “Do I even want to know?” she asked, her eyes still on her drawing.

“Just Tilly being Tilly,” I said, rolling my eyes when Daisy looked up at me. She rolled her own eyes in return, shaking her head as she closed the pad and stood.

“That says it all, I guess.” She crossed the room and laid her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t let her drag you down, Em. You’ve come so far since you’ve been here; I can see the changes in you every day. I’d hate to see your new-found confidence falter because of that bi—” Daisy clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Even when she gave me a rueful smile, I could see the laughter dancing in her eyes. “Because of your mother,” she finished.

I had to laugh. “I know, Dais, it’s okay. I’ve spent my entire life trying to please her and I’m finally starting to see that’ll never happen, no matter what I do. So I’m just going to live my life.” I paced away from Daisy. Despite my reassurances to her, I could still hear my mother’s voice in my head, hear that sweet tone turning sour. “I think I might go for a walk,” I said, turning back to Daisy. “I don’t want to dwell on this, so I think I just need to take a few minutes to clear my head.”

“Of course, honey, whatever you want. I’m just going to—” She waved in the direction of the table where her sketch pad was. “You know. I’ll probably be up in my creative room when you get back. Oh…” She moved to the kitchen counter and opened a drawer, pulling out an old camera with a long strap. “I found this upstairs when I was going through some old stuff the other day. It’s ancient and nothing fancy, but it has a whole new roll of film in it. I thought you might like to have it. I’d love to start a little gallery in the front hall with photos of us, maybe you and Nicholas, that sort of thing.”

I looked down at the camera as she handed it to me. It was a combination of faded black plastic and dull silver metal attached to a worn leather strap. “I love it,” I told her, cradling it in my hands before fiddling with the buttons and dials. I pulled Daisy to my side, draping an arm around her waist and laying my head on her shoulder. As I’d seen people do on TV and at school, I aimed the lens toward us and said, “Say cheese!” Daisy did, giving my shoulders a tight squeeze as the flash momentarily blinded us.

“That’s a start,” I said, sliding the strap around my neck. “Thank you for this. I’ve never had a camera before.”

“I think you’ll have fun with it,” Daisy said, walking with me to the front door. “I’ve been thinking about getting a digital camera for work so I can take pictures of things or people I want to paint, then take pictures of the finished products. Maybe start a website for my artwork and join the twenty-first century like everyone else.”

I laughed. “Hey, maybe we could take some courses and go into business together. It would solve the issue of school
and
work. Your paintings, my photographs, a killer website, and
both
of us could join the modern age.”

I was only kidding of course; since I’d never owned a camera, I had no idea if I’d even know how to use it, let alone if the pictures would be any good. But the spark that lit in Daisy’s eye made me think she liked the idea. She got that faraway look she often had when she was immersed in her work—eyes dreamy and slightly glazed. She refocused on me after a minute, and smiled slowly. I knew the wheels were really turning when she simply kissed me on the cheek and ushered me out the door without a word.

Standing on the porch and blinking in the bright morning sunlight, I just shook my head. I turned and looked out over the front yard at the colourful flowers and garden adornments that were so picture perfect they belonged in a magazine. Smiling to myself, I made my way down the steps and started snapping pictures of the garden faeries, the gazebo, the flowerbeds, and the house itself, trying hard to keep my hands steady so the camera wouldn’t shake.

I exited the yard through the whitewashed gate and sauntered slowly down the street looking at the mixture of old and new houses, stone next to brick next to vinyl siding. Some houses looked as if they’d been there forever; some had additions that looked like they’d been dropped into place without much thought; and others were so recent and so modern-looking they almost felt out of place for a town like Riverview.

The one thing they all had in common was beautiful gardens, well-cared-for lawns, and the impression that the people who lived in these houses—no matter how different they were—took pride in their homes. I passed neighbours mowing their lawns or lounging in porch chairs, children riding bikes up and down driveways, and no matter how busy they were or what they were doing, they would stop to wave when they saw me pass by. Riverview was like a completely different world than the one I’d grown up in, where you would pass a stranger on the street and they wouldn’t even make eye contact.

Waving and calling out the occasional greeting to the neighbours—
my
neighbours—I decided not to take pictures of them and their houses since I didn’t know if the pictures would turn out. I figured I was safer with scenery and other non-moving subjects.

When I entered the park a few minutes later, I raised my camera again and started taking pictures. At first I didn’t put much thought into how I framed the shots, I just aimed at something I liked and clicked. After a while I started to wonder what Daisy would be thinking if she were taking photographs—what she would look for, and what she would see that most people overlooked.

I thought of the things Nicholas sometimes pointed out to me while we were sitting on our hill or walking through the park—the way the sun shone through the leaves of the oak tree to create patterns and shapes on the ground, or the way a passing cloud sent shadows sweeping slowly over the flowerbeds.

I watched as the wind scattered leaves and flower petals over the grass, sending them dancing in an occasional whirlwind. When a brightly coloured butterfly flew in a zigzag path in front of me, I followed it until it landed among some wild flowers, as if posing for the camera.

After I took several shots, I sat back on my heels and watched as the butterfly furled and unfurled its fragile gossamer wings. When it took flight and I raised my head, I realized I was in the forest between the park and Farmer Milligan’s field. I’d been so absorbed in taking pictures, I hadn’t even realized where I was. Laughing softly to myself, I wondered if this was how Daisy felt when she was immersed in her work. If someone crossed my path, had they seen the dreamy look and contented smile I often saw when I looked at Daisy?

It was as if looking at life through the lens had sharpened my senses and made everything around me clearer. Since moving to Riverview, I always appreciated a beautiful day, but rarely noticed the small details where true beauty often lay hidden. I smiled to myself as I thought that Daisy and Nicholas would be proud of me, and this small step toward self-discovery I had made on my own.