Butternut Summer (40 page)

Still, he wondered, why hadn't Daisy told him she was in so much pain? He asked her that now.

But she didn't answer him right away. She just looked down at the hand he wasn't holding, the one lying on top of the bed covers. “I don't know,” she said finally. “I guess because I didn't want to ruin everything. It was so perfect, up to that point, anyway.”

He smiled at her and squeezed the hand he was holding. “You're right. It
was
perfect. But trust me, there was nothing you could have done to ruin it. But what happened to you, Daisy, after I left you at Pearl's?”

“Well, I went up to the apartment, and as soon as I walked into the kitchen—where my mother was obviously planning some kind of intervention—I fainted. By the time I came to, they'd called an ambulance. It brought me here, and the ER physician examined me, and I got a blood test and a CT scan. And then they took me into surgery, and that was it. The surgeon did my appendectomy with something called a laparoscope, which means he only had to make a tiny incision. And I only have to spend a day in the hospital, too. I can probably leave tomorrow afternoon.”

“That's good,” he said, smiling. But there it was again, that unsettling feeling that things could have turned out differently.

“Hey, what happened to your arm?” Daisy asked then.

“Oh, that,” he said, looking at the bandage he'd put on his cut after he'd gotten back from his father's. “It's just a scratch.”

“It doesn't look like just a scratch,” she said, reaching out to finger the bandage gently. Then she chuckled softly.

“What's so funny?”

“You and me,” Daisy said. “We spend one night together, and I'm in the hospital and you . . . you don't look like you're doing much better, Will. I mean, there's your arm, and your jeans, too. What happened to them?”

He looked down. He hadn't changed out of his ripped jeans yet. They'd gotten caught on the barbed wire too. Looking back at her, he had to laugh. “You're right, Daisy,” he said. “That was quite a night.”

Daisy smiled at him then, a lovely smile, and, letting go of his hand, she moved over on the hospital bed and patted the now empty space beside her. “Come here,” she said, a familiar, and reassuring, light returning to her blue eyes.

He looked at the open door to her room and hesitated.

“Please?” she asked, patting the bed again. “Just for a second. Nobody's going to come in. I promise.”

He sighed, stood up warily, and sat down on the very edge of her bed, keeping his feet firmly on the floor.

“Oh, come on,” she said, moving over a little farther. He wavered, then slid over next to her, and propped his feet up on the bed. But he kept an eye on the door.

“Now kiss me,” she said.

“Daisy,” he started to object, so she kissed him instead. Soon enough, he was kissing her back and marveling, for the hundredth time, at the softness of her lips. After a minute, though, he felt the tempo of the kiss begin to change, and he pulled away.

“We should stop now,” he said.

Daisy nodded, a little groggily. “You're probably right,” she said. “They gave me something for the pain, and I think it's making my head feel a little fuzzy.”

“I'll let you rest then,” he said, starting to get up, but she grabbed his hand.

“I'll rest after you leave,” she said. “I promise. But can we stay like this? Just for a few more minutes?”

“Okay,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and kneading it between his fingers. She settled back on the pillows and turned to look at him. And watching her lying there, he felt it again, that almost primal urge to protect her, that gut-level determination to guard her against any danger. He could do that, too, he thought. He was sure of it. A few hours ago, of course, he'd been sprawled out over the hood of his truck, barely able to draw in a single breath, but now he felt his whole body flooding with strength. He could keep Daisy safe, if he could just be with her, every second of every day . . . But therein lay the problem. He couldn't. And with that realization came a bottomless, terrifying fear, a fear that something could happen to her, something he couldn't anticipate or control.

And that wasn't all Will was worried about. A letter had been waiting for him when he'd gotten back to his apartment, the letter that would take him away from her more suddenly than he'd anticipated, but that would also give him a chance at a future with her. But he couldn't tell her about it now. She was too fragile. He'd have to wait until she was stronger.

“Daisy, promise me something, okay?” he said suddenly.

“Okay,” she said.

“Promise me you'll be careful.”

She smiled a little tiredly. “Will, I
am
careful. It's in my nature to be careful. You know that.”

“I do know that. Just don't . . . don't take any risks.”

She looked amused. “You mean, like jumping out of airplanes?”

“No, I mean, like when you're doing everyday things. When you're back at college and you're crossing the street, or riding your bike to class, or walking home from the library at night—just be careful, all right?”

Daisy was silent. They never talked about her going back to college, at least, not if they could possibly help it. Finally, she said, “You don't need to worry about me, Will, okay. My idea of risky behavior is studying too hard. Or drinking too many caffeinated beverages.”

He smiled at her, slightly mollified, and then he lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked it gently. “I love you, Daisy,” he said. And when he heard himself say it, he was as surprised as she was. He hadn't even known he was going to say those words until they were already out of his mouth.

Daisy looked at him wonderingly, her pale complexion transfused with a soft blush. “I love you, too, Will.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Will said quietly, “I've never said that to anyone before.”

“You mean, you've never said that to anyone you weren't related to,” Daisy clarified.

But Will shook his head. “No. I mean I've never said that to anyone.”

T
hat's funny. I don't remember the service here being this slow.”

“Jack?” Caroline said in surprise, looking up from the industrial coffee machine she was shoveling coffee grounds into. It was closing time, Pearl's was empty, and, left to her own devices, she'd been deep in thought. “How long have you been waiting there?” she asked, putting down the plastic scoop and wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Not that long.” Jack rested his elbows on the counter. “And don't worry. I'm not staying; I haven't forgotten our agreement.”

“Our agreement?” she repeated, coming over to him.

“I'm not allowed in here, remember?” he said, his blue eyes amused.

“Oh, that,” Caroline said, with a tiny shrug. “I hope we've gotten beyond that, Jack.”

“Have we?” he asked, suddenly serious, and because Caroline didn't know how to answer that question, she busied herself with pouring him an iced tea.

“Have you been up to the apartment to see Daisy?” she asked, setting the glass down in front of him.

He nodded, sipping his drink. “She looks so much better, Caroline. She's finally starting to get some color back in her face.”

“She is, isn't she?”

“She says she's ready to come back to work again.”

Caroline frowned. “I don't know about that, Jack. It's only been five days since she came home from the hospital.”

“Well, it looks like five days is all it's taken for a serious case of cabin fever to set in.”

“Maybe,” Caroline murmured, reaching reflexively for a dishcloth to wipe down the counter and noticing for the first time that Jack had put the folder she'd given him earlier in the week—the one with all the financial documents in it—on the counter beside him.

“Did you get a chance to go over those?” she asked, nodding at the folder.

“As a matter of fact, I did. That's the reason I'm here.”

She stopped wiping. “So you agree with me that it's hopeless?”

He shook his head. “No, I don't. In fact, I want to set up a time for us to discuss it,” he said, tapping on the file.

“What about right now?”

“I don't think so,” he said. “Not at Pearl's.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, there's no privacy here,” he said, and, as if to underscore his point, Frankie chose that moment to come through the back door with a bucket and a mop. He nodded at Jack and Caroline, came around from behind the counter, and started stacking the chairs on the tabletops.

“And, for another thing,” Jack continued, “I'd like us to discuss it over dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner,” he confirmed. “The meal that comes after lunch.”

“I'm familiar with it.”

“Good. Because I'd like you to come for dinner at the cabin.”

She frowned and started wiping the counter again. She didn't know if that was a good idea.

“Oh, come on Caroline,” he chided her gently. “Aren't you just a little curious to see what I've done with the place?”

She sighed. He had her there. Daisy had given her occasional reports on it, but she was dying to see it for herself. But still, she and Jack alone together?

“This would be business, Caroline. Not pleasure,” he said, reading her mind, and Caroline concentrated on wiping the counter again. Because she was still having trouble reconciling the old Jack with the new Jack. The old Jack, for instance, had had very little interest in business. Pleasure, of course, had been a different matter.

“I don't think so,” she said, finally, more to herself than to him.

“Caroline, I promise, I'll be on my best behavior. This won't be a replay of the last time we had dinner together.” Caroline felt her face grow warm at the memory. “So, don't say no on that account. Unless . . .” He trailed off, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you don't trust yourself to be alone with me,” he said, dropping his voice so Frankie, who was mopping nearby, wouldn't hear him.

“Oh, I think I can handle myself, Jack,” she said coolly, nonetheless remembering another night when he'd taken her home from the Corner Bar and she'd practically pinned him up against the wall at Pearl's. “But I don't know how I feel about leaving Daisy alone yet,” she added. “She says she's fine, but—”

But Jack shook his head. “Sorry, Caroline. You're going to have to find another excuse. Daisy told me she's spending the night at Jessica's house tonight. She says if she doesn't get out of that apartment, at least for a night, she's going to go stir-crazy.”

“Oh,” Caroline said. She was running out of excuses.

“Look, what's the worst that can happen?” Jack pressed. “At the very least, you'll get a free dinner out of this.”

“A free grilled cheese sandwich?” Caroline ventured.

“No, I have something a little more complicated in mind,” he said. And Caroline didn't answer, because that was exactly what she was afraid of.

“All right,” Jack said. “Forget dinner at the cabin then. How about a drink there instead?”

“A drink?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“A sparkling water,” he clarified.

She hesitated again, but Jack took her hesitation for acquiescence. “Good,” he said, smiling. “I'll see you tonight. Why don't we say six o'clock. Oh, and you can have this back.” He pushed the folder across the counter to her. “I don't need it anymore.”

She nodded, a little distractedly, already having misgivings about their plans.

“Well, I'd better get going,” Jack said, and they said their good-byes. Even after he left, though, Caroline kept standing there, dish cloth still in hand but not otherwise moving.

“Everything okay?” Frankie asked, startling her out of her reverie. He'd finished his work and was toting the mop and bucket into the back room.

“Everything's fine,” she said, giving the counter a few more halfhearted swipes with the dish cloth. But what she was thinking was,
Did I really just agree to go to Jack's cabin for a drink?
She had to admit, with a grudging admiration for her ex-husband, that she had definitely not seen that coming.

T
here,” Jessica said proudly, as she examined her handiwork that evening. She and Daisy were sitting on the couch in Jessica's living room, and Jessica had just finished giving Daisy a manicure.

“What do you think?” she asked Daisy, blowing on her still-wet nails. Daisy's hands were resting on a pillow, which Jessica had covered with a dish towel and placed between them on the couch.

“I think . . . I think they look great,” Daisy said, knowing, even with her limited experience with manicures, that this was not a good one. She had some insight now into why Jessica might have flunked out of cosmetology school before coming to work at Pearl's. But she smiled at Jessica and said loyally, “It's very professional. Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome.” Jessica beamed. “It's the least I can do for my best friend, who happens to be recovering from an appendectomy. And do you want to see what else we're doing tonight?”

“Okay.” Daisy smiled.

Jessica left the room and hurried back with her arms full. “Well, first of all, I bought all the trashiest magazines,” she said, depositing a stack of glossy magazines onto the coffee table in front of Daisy. “I also rented all our favorite movies,” she continued, putting a half-dozen DVDs, all romantic comedies that she and Daisy had already seen at least ten times, beside the pile of magazines. “And, last but not least, I bought Double Stuff Oreos.” She produced a bag of them with a flourish. “Remember how mad your mom used to get, Daisy, when we used to buy these at the grocery store?” Jessica settled onto the couch beside Daisy. “There was Pearl's, right downstairs, with all those homemade cookies, and we wanted these instead.” She laughed then, tore into the bag of Oreos, and gave one to Daisy. And Daisy smiled and ate it, dutifully, being careful not to touch it with her fingernails.