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Marrying Daisy Bellamy
Susan Wiggs


Retreat to a blissful haven with Susan Wiggs!Daisy Bellamy has struggled for years to choose between two men – one honourable and steady, one wild and untethered. And then, one fateful day, the decision is made for her.Now a photographer with a thriving business on Willow Lake, Daisy knows she should be happy with the life she’s chosen for herself and her son. But she still aches for the one thing she can’t have.Until the man once lost to her reappears, resurrected by a promise of love. And now the choice Daisy thought was behind her is the hardest one she’ll ever face…Perfect for fans of Cathy Kelly













Praise for the novels of #1New York Timesbestselling author Susan Wiggs


“Wiggs is one of our best observers of

stories of the heart. She knows how to capture

emotion on virtually every page of every book.”

—Salem Statesman-Journal

“Wiggs’s talent is reflected in her thoroughly

believable characters as well as the way she recognizes

the importance of family by blood or other ties.”

—Library Journal

“Susan Wiggs writes with bright assurance,

humor and compassion.”

—Luanne Rice




THE SUMMER HIDEAWAY


“An emotionally gripping tale centered on family.

Wiggs is back in top form, and Daisy Bellamy’s

many fans will rejoice that her story is next.”

—Booklist

“[A] wonderful getaway to be savored and enjoyed.”

—Bookreporter




LAKESHORE CHRISTMAS


“Wiggs hits all the right notes.”

—Library Journal [starred review]

“Wiggs concocts a terrifically tasty holiday confection

sure to be enjoyed by fans and new readers alike.

A keeper.”

—RT Book Reviews [Top Pick]




FIRESIDE


#1 New York Times Bestseller

A Best Book of 2009—Amazon.com

“Worth a look for the often-hilarious dialogue alone,

the latest installment of her beloved Lakeshore

Chronicles showcases Wiggs’s justly renowned gifts for

storytelling and characterization. A keeper.”

—RT Book Reviews




SNOWFALL AT WILLOW LAKE


A Best Book of 2008—Amazon.com

Reviewer’s Choice finalist—RT Book Reviews RITA® Award finalist

“Wiggs is at the top of her game here,

combining a charming setting with subtly

shaded characters and more than a touch of humor.

This is the kind of book a reader doesn’t want to see

end but can’t help devouring as quickly as possible.”

—RT Book Reviews [Top Pick]

“Wiggs jovially juggles the lives of

numerous colliding characters and adds some

winter-favorite recipes for a festive touch.”

—Publishers Weekly




DOCKSIDE


“Rich with life lessons, nod-along moments and

characters with whom readers can easily relate….

Delightful and wise, Wiggs’s latest shines.”

—Publishers Weekly

“A wonderfully written, beautiful love story

with a few sharp edges and a bunch of marvelously

imperfect characters … sure to leave an indelible

impression on even the most jaded reader.”

—RT Book Reviews [Top Pick]




THE WINTER LODGE


#1 Best Romance of 2007—Amazon.com

A Best Book of 2007—Publishers Weekly Reviewer’s Choice finalist—RT Book Reviews

“With the ease of a master, Wiggs introduces

complicated, flesh-and-blood characters …

a refreshingly honest romance.”

—Publishers Weekly [starred review]

“Empathetic protagonists,

interesting secondary characters,

well-written flashbacks and delicious recipes

add depth to this touching, complex romance.”

—Library Journal

“Emotionally intense.”

—Booklist




SUMMER AT WILLOW LAKE


A Best Book of 2006—Amazon.com

“Wiggs’s storytelling is heartwarming …

clutter free … [for] romance and women’s fiction

readers of any age.”—Publishers Weekly

“Wonderfully evoked characters,

a spellbinding story line and insights

into the human condition will appeal to every reader.”

—Booklist




Marrying Daisy Bellamy

The Lakeshore Chronicles

SUSAN WIGGS


















www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my readers.

When Daisy Bellamy first sneaked into

Summer at Willow Lake years ago, a sullen teenager with a chip on her shoulder, she was meant to just pass through the series. Instead, you kept her in your hearts, book after book, patiently waiting for her story to be told. You’ve helped me stay motivated to write “ Daisy’s story” for years. Many thanks for inspiring me to send this character on her own journey.




Acknowledgments







I owe a very special thank you to the real Andrea and Brian Hubble, and to Kay Fritchman and her furry family for their generous contributions.

When it comes to some books, the author is in need of a literary “pit crew” to keep everything in proper working order right up until the final lap. This book’s pit crew included (but wasn’t limited to) my friends and fellow writers—Anjali Banerjee, Kate Breslin, Sheila Roberts and Elsa Watson; Margaret O’Neill Marbury and Adam Wilson of MIRA Books; Meg Ruley and Annelise Robey of the Jane Rotrosen Agency.




Part One










One







The bridegroom was so handsome, Daisy Bellamy’s heart nearly melted at the sight of him. Please, she thought. Oh, please let’s get it right this time.

He offered her a brief, nervous smile.

“Come on,” she said in a barely audible whisper, “once more with feeling. Say I love you, and mean it. Show me what you’re feeling.”

He was a storybook prince, in his dove-gray swallowtail tux, every hair in place, adoration beaming from every pore. He stared intently into her eyes and, in a voice that broke with sincerity, said, “I love you.”

“Yes,” Daisy whispered back. “Got it,” she added, and lowered the camera away from her face. “That’s what I’m talking about. Good going, Brian.”

The videographer moved in to capture the reaction of the newly minted bride, a flushed and pretty young woman named Andrea Hubble. Using his video camera as an extra appendage, Zach Alger gently coached the couple with a word or two and soon had them talking intimately about their love, their hopes and dreams, their happiness on this glorious day.

Daisy took a candid shot of the couple as they leaned in for another kiss. In the background, a loon beat skyward from Willow Lake, droplets of water sparkling like stars in the glow of early twilight. The beauty of nature added a sheen of romance to the moment. Daisy was good at capturing romance in her camera frame. In life—not so much.

She longed to feel the joy she saw in her clients’ faces, but her own romantic past was a series of mistakes and missed chances. Now here she was, a screwup trying to unscrew her life. She had a small son who didn’t realize his mom was a screwup, a responsible job and an unadmitted yearning for something she couldn’t have—that shining love her camera observed through its very expensive lens.

“I think we’re done here,” Zach said, checking his watch. “And you guys have a big party to go to.”

The bridal couple squeezed each other’s hands, their faces wreathed in smiles. Daisy could feel the excitement coming off them in waves. “Biggest party of our lives,” said Andrea. “I want it to be perfect.”

It won’t be, thought Daisy, keeping her camera at the ready. Some of the best shots happened at random, unplanned moments. The flaws were what made a wedding special and memorable. The glory of imperfection was one of the first things she’d discovered when she’d started working as a wedding photographer. Every event, no matter how carefully planned, had its imperfections. There would always be a groomsman facedown in the punch bowl, a collapsing pavilion tent, somebody’s hair on fire when they leaned too close to the candles, an overweight, fainting auntie, a wailing infant.

These were the things that made life interesting. As a single mother, Daisy had learned to appreciate the unplanned. Some of her life’s sweetest moments came when she least expected them—the clutch of her son’s tiny hands, anchoring her to earth with a power greater than gravity. Some of the most awful moments, too—a train pulling out of the station, leaving her behind, along with her dreams—but she tried not to dwell on that.

She suggested that the newlyweds hold hands and hike across a vast, pristine meadow at the edge of Willow Lake. During the World War II years, the meadow had been the site of a communal Victory Garden. Now it was one of Daisy’s favorite settings, particularly at this golden hour of the day, when time hovered between afternoon and evening.

The meadow was suffused in the last pink and amber of the sun’s rays. This moment, for Andrea and Brian, was perfect. The bride led the way, walking slightly ahead of him with her chin held aloft. The groom’s posture was protective, yet he exuded joy from every angle of his body. The breeze kicked up her gown so that the shadows connected the two of them like a delicate dark web, the unrehearsed drama of the movement coinciding with the firing of the camera shutter.

Checking the viewfinder of her camera, Daisy suspected this might be an iconic shot for this couple.

Except … she zoomed in on a small spot on the horizon.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“What?” Zach asked, leaning to look over her shoulder.

“The Fritchmans’s dog, Jake, got loose again.” There he was in high-resolution glory, silhouetted against the sweeping sky, taking a crap.

“Classic,” Zach remarked, and went back to coiling his cables and organizing his gear for the wedding reception.

Daisy pushed a button to tag the photo for later retouching.

“Ready?” she asked Zach.

“Time to party on,” he said, and they followed the bride and groom along the lakeshore path to the main pavilion of Camp Kioga, where the reception would take place. The couple made a pit stop to freshen up for their grand entrance, and Daisy prepared to document the festivities.

She’d liked the bride from the start, and she had always loved the setting of Camp Kioga. The serene lakeside resort was a historic landmark on Willow Lake, and it belonged to Daisy’s grandparents. Tucked into the wildest corner of Ulster County near the town of Avalon, Camp Kioga had been founded as a retreat for the elite of New York City, a place where the well-heeled could escape the steamy summer heat.

These days, the camp had been transformed into a luxurious resort by Daisy’s cousin Olivia. Last year, the reinvented retreat had been featured as a destination wedding venue on www.Iamthebeholder.com, and bookings were steady.

To Daisy, Camp Kioga was more than a beautiful setting. She had spent some of her life’s most joyous—and most painful—moments here, and the entire landscape had shaped her aesthetic as a photographer.

The firm she’d worked for since finishing college, Wendela’s Wedding Wonders, was a local institution, and Daisy was grateful for the job. The work was steady, the hours crazy and the income adequate, if not lucrative. There would never be a shortage of people wanting to get married. And okay, she did dream of branching out from weddings and portraits, because her deepest love was something she termed narrative nature photography.

At heart, she was a storyteller. Her photos offered intimate glimpses through her lens. She captured the fragile, ephemeral nature of the world around her with pictures that haunted her heart, arousing deep emotions from the simple grace of trees dipping their branches in the water, the abundance of a green-shadowed forest in springtime, the epic shape of granite crags above a gorge. In college, she’d always been under deadline pressure because her subjects would not be rushed—tadpoles transforming themselves, a fawn finding its way through a meadow, the stillness of a heron as it waited in the marshy shallows for its next meal.

Photography was where she’d found her artist’s voice and a passion for the work. The fascination had begun with the gift of a Kodak camera on her eighth birthday. She had captured a shot of her grandma Bellamy learning to Hula hoop that day, experiencing a moment of such satisfaction that it felt like a benediction. It was a moment that would never again be repeated; she had frozen it forever in time and memory, and despite the fact that it featured her own grandmother, there was something universal in the shot that anyone could understand.

That was the moment she’d discovered the power of photography. She often wished for more time to produce fine art with her camera, but even fine artists—and their small sons—had to eat. For a single mom, steady work trumped high art every time. And the photo snobs seemed determined to overlook a key fact. In the midst of a wedding, opportunities abounded for finding a transcendent moment. A good photographer simply knew where to look for them and how to capture them. At a wedding, you could find people at their most real. The same story played out in endless ways and infinite variety, and for Daisy, it held a kind of fascination.

She was intrigued by the mysterious alchemy that drew a couple together and compelled them to embark on a journey through life together. A camera, properly wielded, could tell the story, over and over again in all its manifestations.

Perhaps this was because Daisy longed to understand it for herself. Perhaps if she became the world’s foremost expert at capturing life’s happiest moments, she would figure out a way to find her own.

The wedding wasn’t perfect. In the middle of the toast, Andrea Hubble’s mother became tongue-tied and dissolved into tears. The bar ran out of champagne in the first hour, and the DJ blew a speaker. One of the bridesmaids broke out in hives from something she ate, and the five-year-old ring bearer went missing, only to be found fast asleep under a banquet table.

Daisy knew that within hours, none of this would matter. As the DJ broke down his set and workers disassembled the tables, the blissfully happy couple headed off in the night for the Summer Hideaway, the resort’s most secluded cabin. Her final shot, lit by the moon and her favorite off-camera strobe flash, showed them walking down the path toward the cabin, the groom lifting his arm and twirling the bride beneath it. No question the night would go well for them, Daisy thought, putting away her things with a restless sigh.

The wedding guests occupied Camp Kioga’s other lodgings—old-school bunkhouses, A-frame cabins or luxurious rooms in the main lodge.

In the work van on the way home, Zach cracked open a can of Utica Club purloined from the bar and held it out to Daisy.

She shook her head. “No, thanks. It’s all yours.” Contrary to her demographic—recent college grad—she wasn’t much for drinking. Truth be told, drinking had never done her any favors. In fact, the reason she’d become a mom at nineteen had everything to do with drinking. If Charlie ever asked her where babies come from, she would have to find a way to explain that he’d come from an abundance of Everclear punch and a weekend of supremely bad judgment.

“Here’s to you, then,” said Zach. “And to Mr. and Mrs. Happily Ever After. May they stay together long enough to pay off the wedding.”

“Don’t be such a cynic,” she chided him. In his own way, Zach Alger had had a rough go of things, too. They made a good team, though. He was more than an assistant and videographer to her. He was one of her favorite—though reluctant—subjects to photograph, with strong, angular features and unusual Nordic coloring, so pale he was sometimes mistaken for an albino. He was totally self-conscious about his white-blond hair, the kind that seemed to absorb color from other sources. Daisy had always thought it was cool. Some of the images she’d shot of him had been picked up commercially. Apparently his look—the pale coloring and wintry eyes—was popular in Japan and South Korea. Somewhere in the Far East, his face was selling men’s cologne and cell phone minutes.

Not enough to pay the bills for either of them, however. He was just out of college, too, skilled at high-tech media. What she liked most about Zach was that he was a good friend—nonjudgmental, easy to talk to.

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’re such a worrier.”

“Right, like you’re not.”

He had her there. Daisy didn’t see any way around being a worrier, though. Having a kid tended to do that to a person.

“Maybe if we pool all our worries,” she suggested, “we’ll generate enough energy to fuel the van.”

“I only need enough to make it to the end of the month.” Zach guzzled the beer, belched and fell quiet, staring out the window at the utter nothingness that was the town of Avalon late at night. The locals joked that the sidewalks rolled up by nine, but that was an exaggeration. It was more like eight.

She and Zach didn’t need to fill the silence with chitchat. They’d known each other since high school, and they’d both endured their share of trials. While she became a teenage mom, Zach had been dealing with his dad’s financial meltdown and subsequent incarceration on corruption charges. Not exactly a recipe for serenity.

Yet somehow they had each muddled through, a little worse for the wear but still standing. Zach was methodically working his way through a mountain of student debt. And Daisy had made a series of bad choices. She felt as if she were living life backward, starting with having a kid while still a teenager. Then came school and work, and all that was swinging into balance, but one thing eluded her. It was the thing they photographed nearly every weekend, toasted and celebrated by her ever-changing array of clients. Love and marriage. These things shouldn’t matter so much. She wished she could believe her life was just fine, but she’d be kidding her self.

It was a challenge to avoid looking back and secondguessing herself. She could have had a shot at marriage. A surprise Christmas Eve proposal had come at her out of the blue and sent her reeling. Even now, months later, the very thought of it made her hyperventilate. Thinking back about a night that might have changed her life, she flexed her hands on the steering wheel. Did I make the right choice? Or did I run away from the one thing that could have saved me?

“So, is Charlie with his dad tonight?” Zach asked, breaking the silence.

“Yep. They’re the dynamic duo.” She slowed the van to avoid a small family of raccoons. The largest of the three paused, turning glittery eyes to the headlamps before herding the two small ones into the ditch.

Charlie’s father, Logan O’Donnell, had been as messed up and careless as Daisy herself was, back in the teen years. But like Daisy, Logan had been transformed by parenthood. And when she needed him to take Charlie for the night, he gladly stepped up.

“And what about you and Logan?” Zach pried.

She sniffed. “If there’s anything to report, you’ll be the first to know.” Things between her and Logan were complicated. That was the only word she could think of to describe the situation. Complicated.

“But—”

“But nothing.” She turned a corner and emerged onto the town square. At this hour, no one was around. Zach lived in a small vintage walk-up over the Sky River Bakery. As teenagers, they had both had jobs there. Now a new generation of kids managed the giant mixers and proofing machines in the wee hours of the morning. Hard to believe, but Daisy and Zach weren’t the kids anymore.

She swung into a parking spot. “I’ll be in the studio by ten tomorrow,” she said. “I promised Andrea a sneak peek by next Saturday.”

“Geez,” he groaned. “Do you know how many hours I shot?”

“Actually, I do. It’s only a sneak peek. I like this bride, Zach. I want to make her happy.”

“Isn’t that the groom’s job?”

“She has four younger sisters.”

“I know. They couldn’t stay away from the camera.” He shouldered open the passenger-side door and stepped down. The glow of the streetlights turned his hair to amber.

“Maybe they couldn’t stay away from you,” she suggested.

“Yeah, right.” He was probably blushing, but in this light, she couldn’t tell. Zach had never been much for dating. Though he’d never admit it, he’d been carrying a torch for Daisy’s stepsister, Sonnet, since preschool.

“�Night, Zach,” she said.

“See you tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late.”

He knew her well. She was usually pretty wired after an event and couldn’t resist loading the raw files. She liked to post a single, perfect teaser shot on her blog to give the bride a taste of things to come.

Her own place was an unassuming small house on Oak Street. She took her time letting herself in. One of the worst things about raising Charlie with a guy she didn’t live with was that she missed her son like mad when he was with his father.

She locked the door behind her, and the all-pervasive silence took her breath away. She’d never been very good with all-pervasive silence. It made her think too hard, and when she thought too hard, she worried. And when she worried, she made herself insane. And when she went insane, that made her a bad mom. It was a cycle that refused to end.

Maybe she should get a dog. Yes, a friendly, bouncy dog to greet her at the door with swirls and yips of delight. A funny, nonjudgmental dog that would completely distract her from the things she didn’t want to think about.

“A dog,” she said, trying out the concept aloud. “Genius.”

Wandering into the study nook, she took out a small deck of memory cards from the wedding and watched the images load, one by one. Some were familiar, shots she took at every wedding, because they were expected—the first dance, with the couple silhouetted dramatically against the night sky, the parents of the bride and groom sharing a toast. Others were unique, a pose or a look she’d never seen before. She’d caught the bride’s grandmother cross-eyed as she slurped down an oyster, the groom’s uncle making a rapturous face during a song, one of the bridesmaids visibly ducking to avoid catching the bouquet. And then there was one shot, the one she’d expected, that turned out to be transcendent.

It was the last-minute frame of the bride and groom hiking across the meadow, hand in hand. It told a story, it said who they were, it expressed them as a couple. Two together, linked by a handclasp that looked eternal.

Minus Jake, she reminded herself, opening the editing program. The pooping dog in the background would have to go. As she busily cleaned up the photo, she studied the gleam of light on the bending fronds of grass, the distorted reflection of the couple in the water, the unfurling emotion in the bride and the joy shining from the groom.

The shot was good. Better than good. Entry-in-a-photo-competition good, that’s what it was, she thought.

As the notion crossed her mind, her gaze flicked to a folder in the tray on the desk. That was where she was supposed to file her entries to the photo exhibit contest for the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The top entries each year would be placed on exhibit in the MoMA’s Emerging Artists section. The competition was the fiercest in the industry, because being selected would open doors and launch careers. Daisy was dying to submit her work.

However, the tray was woefully empty, the file folder like a barely cracked-open door showing only blankness inside. All the good intentions in the world, all the lofty ambitions, could not give Daisy the one thing she needed to complete the project and submit her materials. The gift of time. Sometimes she caught herself wondering when her life was going to finally be her life.

Pushing aside the frustration, she refocused on the bridal photo and quickly posted it on Wendela’s company blog, titling the entry, “Andrea and Brian sneak peek.” Sitting back and gazing at the shot, Daisy indulged in a private cry. She didn’t want people to know the sight of happy couples made her cry. She didn’t want anyone to see her need, her desire, her knife-sharp longing. Alone in the small hours of the night, she cried. And then she shut down her computer.

By then it was one o’clock in the morning, and she needed to get to bed. As she went around turning off the lights, she noticed a few envelopes on the floor below the mail slot of the front door. She bent down and went through the small stack. Fliers and junk mail. Solicitations, notices about neighborhood meetings. Coupons she would never use. And … a cream-colored envelope, addressed in a very familiar hand.

Her heart skipped a beat. She ripped open the thick envelope.



You are hereby invited to the commissioning of Julian Maurice Gastineaux as a Second Lieutenant in the United States Air Force ROTC, Detachment 520 at Cornell University on Saturday 14, May at 1300 hrs in the Statler Auditorium.

On the back, scrawled in that same familiar bold script, was the message, “Hope you’ll come. Really need to talk to you. J.” So much for sleep.

It was nuts, realizing a simple name on a piece of paper could send her spiraling through a past filled with what-ifs and paths not taken. Because Julian Gastineaux, soon to be Second Lieutenant Julian Gastineaux, was her own personal path not taken.




Two







Camp Kioga, Ulster County, New York Five years earlier

The summer before her senior year of high school, the last thing Daisy wanted to do was stay in a musty lakeside cabin with her dad and little brother. She had to, though. They were making her do it.

Although neither of her parents said much to her and Max, their family was in the process of breaking up. Her mom and dad couldn’t keep up the pretense of being a happy couple, even though they’d been trying for years. Her dad’s solution was to retreat from their Upper East Side home to the Bellamy family compound—historic Camp Kioga on Willow Lake—and act like everything was dandy.

Well, nothing was dandy and Daisy was determined to prove it. She’d packed her bag with a summer’s worth of hair products, an iPod, an SLR camera and a goodly supply of pot and cigarettes.

Though determined to ignore the mesmerizing beauty of the lakeside camp, she felt herself being unsettled by the deep isolation, the pervasive quiet, the haunting views.

The last thing she was expecting, out here in the middle of nowhere, was to meet someone. Turned out a boy her age had also been sentenced to summer camp, though for entirely different reasons.

When he first walked into the main pavilion at the dinner hour, she felt a funny kind of heat swirl through her and thought maybe the summer was not going to be so boring after all.

He looked like every dangerous thing grown-ups warned her about. He had a tall, lean, powerful body and a way of carrying himself that exuded confidence, maybe even arrogance. He was of mixed race, with tattoos marking his cafГ© au lait skin, pierced ears and long dreadlocks.

He sauntered over to the buffet table where she was standing, as if drawn to the invisible heat coursing through her.

“Just so you know,” said the tall kid, “this is the last place I wanted to spend the summer.”

“Just so you know,” Daisy said, making herself sound as cool as he did, “it wasn’t my choice, either. What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“It was either this—working on this dump with my brother, Connor—or a stint in juvey,” he said easily.

Juvey. He tossed off the word, clearly assuming she was familiar with the concept. She wasn’t, though. Juvenile detention was something that happened to kids from the ghetto or barrio.

“You’re Connor’s brother?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t look like brothers.” Connor was all clean-cut and WASPy, a lumberjack from the wilds of the North, while Julian looked dark … and dangerous, alternative’s alternative.

“Half brothers,” he said nonchalantly. “Different dads. Connor doesn’t want me here, but our mom made him look after me.”

Connor Davis was the contractor in charge of renovating Camp Kioga to get it ready for the fiftieth anniversary of Daisy’s grandparents. Everyone was supposed to be pitching in on the project, but she hadn’t expected to encounter someone like this. Even before learning his name, she sensed something fundamental about this boy. In the deepest, most mysterious way imaginable, he was destined to be important to her.

His name was Julian Gastineaux, and like her, he was between his junior and senior years of high school, but other than that, they had nothing in common. She was from New York City’s Upper East Side, the product of a privileged but unhappy family and a tony prep school. He was from a crappy area of Chino, California, downwind of the cattle lots.

Like moths around a candle flame, they danced around each other through dinner; later they were assigned cleanup duty. She didn’t raise her normal objection to the manual labor. An intimate camaraderie sprang up between them as they worked. She found herself fascinated by the ropy strength of his forearms and the sturdy breadth of his hands. As they were hanging up their dish towels, their shoulders brushed, and the brief encounter was electrifying in a way she’d never felt with a guy before. She’d known her share of guys, but this was different. She felt a weird kind of recognition that both confused and excited her.

“There’s a fire pit down by the lake,” she said, searching his strange, whiskey-colored eyes to see if he sensed anything, but she couldn’t tell. They were too new to one another. “Maybe we could go down there and have a fire.”

“Yeah, we could hold hands and sing �Kumbaya’”

“A couple of nights without TV or internet, and you’ll be begging for �Kumbaya’”

“Right.” His cocky smile quickly and easily gave way to sweetness. Daisy wondered if he realized that.

She found her dad as he was leaving the dining room. “Can we go make a fire on the beach?” Daisy asked.

“You and Julian?” His suspicious eyes flicked from her to the tall kid.

“Duh. Yeah, Dad. Me and Julian.” She tried to maintain her attitude. She didn’t want him to think she was actually starting to like it here, stuck in this rustic Catskills camp while all her friends were partying on the beaches of the Hamptons.

To her surprise, Julian spoke up: “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, sir.”

It was gratifying to see her dad’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Hearing the word sir come from the mouth of the Dreadlocked One was clearly unexpected.

“He will,” Connor Davis said, joining them and passing a look to his brother. The stare he fixed on Julian showed exactly which brother was in charge.

“I guess it’s all right,” her dad said. He could probably tell Connor would kick Julian’s ass if the kid stepped out of line. “I might come out to check on you later.”

“Sure, Dad,” Daisy said, forcing brightness into her tone. “That’d be great.”

She and Julian were both pretty lame at making a fire, but she didn’t really care. They used a box of kitchen matches down to the final one before the pile of twigs finally caught. When the breeze wafted smoke right at her, she happily wedged herself snugly against Julian. He didn’t put the moves on her, but he didn’t move away, either. In fact, simply being near him felt amazing, not like making out with guys from school, under the bleachers at the athletic field, or at the Brownstones at Columbia, where she lied about her age in order to get into a college party.

Once the flames were dancing nicely in the fire pit, she saw him studying the reflection on the black surface of the lake.

“I was here once before,” he said. “When I was eight.”

“Seriously? You came to summer camp?”

He laughed a little. “It’s not like I had a choice. Connor was a counselor here that year, and he was stuck watching me that summer.”

She waited for a further explanation, but he stayed silent. “Because …” she prompted.

His smile faded. “Because there was no one else.”

The loneliness of his words, the thought of a child having no one but a half brother, struck her in a tender place. She decided not to press him for details, but man. She wanted to know more about this guy. “So what’s your story now?”

“My mother’s an out-of-work performer—sings, dances, acts,” he said.

What, did he think she was going to let him off the hook? “That’s your mother’s story. I was wondering about yours.”

“I got in trouble with the law in May,” he said.

Now that, she thought, was interesting. Fascinating. Dangerous. She leaned forward, pressing even closer.

“So what was the incident? Did you steal a car? Deal drugs?” The minute she said the words, she wanted to die. She was an idiot. He’d think she was racial profiling him.

“I raped a girl,” he informed her. “Maybe I raped three.”

“Okay,” she said, “I deserved that. And I know you’re lying.” She looped her arms around her drawn-up knees.

He was quiet for a bit, as if trying to make up his mind whether or not to be ticked off. “Let’s see. They caught me using the high dive at a public pool after dark, skateboarding down a spiral parking lot ramp … stuff like that. A couple of weeks ago, I got caught bungee jumping off a highway bridge with a homemade bungee cord. The judge ordered a change of scenery for me this summer, said I had to do something productive. Trust me, helping renovate a summer camp in the Catskills is the last thing I want to do.”

The image she had of him did a quick one-eighty. “Why would you go bungee jumping off a bridge?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“Oh, let me see. You could break every bone in your body. Wind up paralyzed. Brain dead. Or plain dead.”

“People wind up dead every day.”

“Yeah, but jumping off bridges tends to hasten the process.” She shuddered.

“It was awesome. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’ve always liked flying.”

He’d given her the perfect opening. She reached into her pocket and took out an eyeglasses case, flipping it open to reveal a fat, misshapen joint. “Then you’ll like this.”

With the glowing end of a twig, she lit up and inhaled.

“This is my kind of flying.” Hoping she’d succeeded in shocking him, she held it out to Julian.

“I’ll pass,” he said.

What? Pass? Who passed on a hit from a joint?

He must have read her mind, because he grinned. “I need to watch myself. See, the judge in California gave my mother a choice—I had to leave town for the summer or do time in juvenile detention. By coming here, I get the bungee-jumping incident wiped off my record.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded, but kept holding out the joint. “You won’t get caught.”

“I don’t partake.”

Ridiculous. What was he, some kind of Boy Scout? His reticence bothered her, made her feel judged by him. “Come on. It’s really good weed. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he said. “Just don’t like getting high.”

“Whatever.” Feeling slightly ridiculous, she added a twig to the fire, watched it burn. “A girl’s got to find her fun where she can.”

“So are you having fun?” he asked.

She squinted at him through the smoke, wondering if she’d ever asked herself that question. “So far, this whole summer has been … weird. It’s supposed to be a lot more fun. I mean, think about it. It’s our last summer as regular kids. By this time next year, we’ll be working and getting ready for college.”

“College.” Leaning back on his elbows, he gazed up at the stars. “That’s a good one.”

“Aren’t you planning to go to college?”

He laughed.

“What?” She let the joint smolder between her fingers, not caring if it went out.

“No one’s ever asked me that before.”

She found that hard to believe. “Teachers and advisers haven’t been hounding you since ninth grade?”

He laughed again. “At my school, they figure they’re doing a good job if a kid makes it through without dropping out, having a baby or being sent up.”

She tried to imagine such a world. “Up where?”

“Sent up means doing time at juvenile hall or worse, prison.”

“You should change schools.”

Again, that joyless laughter. “It’s not like I get to choose. I go to my closest public school.”

She was skeptical. “And your school doesn’t prepare you for college.”

He shrugged. “Most guys get some crappy job at a car wash and play the lottery and hope for the best.”

“You don’t seem like most guys.” She paused, studying the bemused expression on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m nobody special.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Look, I’m not saying college is, like, nirvana or something, but it sure as hell beats working at a car wash.”

“College costs all kinds of dough I don’t have.”

“That’s what scholarships are for.” She flashed on the year-end assembly that had taken place a few weeks earlier. She would have skipped out, except the alumni magazine had needed her to take pictures. Some military guys had given a presentation on how to get paid to go to school. She’d zoned out during the presentation, but the topic had stuck with her. “Then get into the ROTC. Reserve Officer Training Corps. The military picks up the cost of your schooling. Earn while you learn, that’s what they said.”

“Yeah, but there’s a catch. There’s always a catch. They send you to war.”

“They’d probably let you do more than bungee jumping.”

“What are you, a recruiter for these guys?”

“Just telling you what I know.” She didn’t really care whether or not this kid went to college. For that matter, she didn’t really care whether or not she got into college. Pot tended to make her chatty. She put the now-cold joint into a Ziploc bag to save for later. Maybe to save for somebody who wanted to get high with her. The trouble was, she really only felt like hanging out with Julian. There was something about him. “It must be weird to go to a high school where no one helps you get into college,” she said. “But just because no one’s helping you doesn’t mean you can’t help yourself.”

“Sure.” He tossed another dry branch on the fire. “Thanks for the public service announcement.”

“You’ve got a chip on your shoulder,” she said.

“And you’ve got your head in the clouds.”

Daisy laughed aloud, tilting back her head as she imagined the notes of her voice floating upward with the sparks and smoke from the fire. She felt wonderful around him, and it wasn’t the pot. She liked him. She really, really liked this guy. He was different and special and kind of mysterious. He didn’t touch her, though she wanted him to. He didn’t kiss her, though she wanted that, too. He simply sat back and offered a subtle, slightly lopsided smile.

Those eyes, she thought, feeling a peculiar warmth shudder through her. She looked into them and thought, Hello, other half of my soul. It’s good to finally meet you.



Present Day

Daisy pondered her history with Julian far more than she should, especially at times like this, the middle of the night, when she was all by herself, her body aching for a human touch. If her life had followed a movie script, everything would have been simple after that first unlikely, electrifying meeting. The music would swell, the birds would sing, and that would be that. Go directly to happily ever after. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Just go.

It was a lot of baggage to lay on the first meeting of two teenagers, she acknowledged. The wilderness camp had been the ideal setup for a summer romance—two star-crossed kids, attracted to each other against all common sense … forced apart at summer’s end by families who didn’t understand them. Perfect.

Except things hadn’t played out that way. Instead, Daisy and Julian had done the impossible. Resisting the heady rush of revved up hormones, they had spent the summer in an agony of yearning, and by some miracle they hadn’t hooked up. It wasn’t really a miracle, but Julian’s self-restraint. He’d made a vow to his brother to stay out of trouble, and it hadn’t taken her long to realize he was a man of his word. At summer’s end, they had gone their separate ways, resigning themselves to circumstances.

She should have realized they never had a chance to be more to each other than a summer memory. Back in Manhattan that fall, Daisy went a little nuts at the start of her senior year in high school. She’d made an incredibly bad decision that had resulted in an incredibly precious gift—Charlie, born the summer after graduation. But just because she’d had a baby didn’t mean she could forget Julian. She never had. She kept waiting and hoping their time would come. But she had a kid, and Julian had a dream of his own to follow.

She tried to read between the lines of the invitation to his commissioning ceremony, a futile endeavor, since it was printed, like all the others had been. The words on the back could be interpreted in a variety of ways. Did he really want to see her, or was he simply being polite?

She didn’t know, because she was in a weird place with him, like always. Despite a mutual, undeniable attraction, she tried to stay resigned to the fact that she and Julian were destined to go their own ways. He was a graduating senior at Cornell, focusing on school and on his ROTC program, as well he should. She lived in Avalon now, a place that had seemed as bleak as Siberia when she’d first seen it that first summer at Camp Kioga. These days, she called it home because it was close to family, the best place to raise Charlie.

There didn’t seem to be any way for her and Julian to be together without one of them sacrificing everything. Some things, she told herself often, simply weren’t meant to be. Still, she couldn’t help but dream, and in the deepest, most sleepless hours of the night, she caught herself wondering if her time would ever come, if she’d ever experience the searing joy of love her camera captured, wedding after wedding.

A small inner voice reminded her that she’d had her chance, not so long ago. There had been a ring, a proposal … but she’d been too scared and confused to even consider it. She’d opted instead for a year of studying abroad with Charlie, which ultimately proved to her how very much she needed her family.

Oh, Daisy, she thought. Figure out your own heart. How hard could it be?

Torn and restless, she set down the invitation and walked away, her chest already squeezing tight with emotion. Julian had always had that effect on her, from the first moment they’d met as teenagers.

Yet in spite of the diverging paths their lives took, their connection persisted. During their college years—she at SUNY New Paltz, he at Cornell—they managed to see each other on rare occasions. Whenever their school holidays synched up and didn’t bump up against his ROTC training and duties, they stole time together. And on each occasion, the yearning that had begun all those summers ago flared, more intense than ever. It seemed to grow despite all the life events that intervened. They continued to seek each other out, but it was never enough. She didn’t understand it, tried to rationalize it away, because being with a guy like Julian seemed so impossible. Their lives kept leading them away from each other. He had the ROTC and Cornell, and she had Charlie, work and … Charlie’s dad. No wonder things had never worked out for her and Julian.

Sometimes when Daisy fantasized about being with Julian, she tried to imagine him and Charlie together, like father and son.

But the painful fact was, Julian seemed adamant about not taking on that role. He was nice enough to Charlie, yet she could see Julian keeping his distance. She recalled a time when Charlie had slipped and called Julian “Daddy.” Julian had winced visibly and said, “I’m not your daddy, boy.”

Little had he known the remark would give rise to a nickname. From that day onward, Charlie had dubbed Julian “Daddy-boy.”

When you were a single mom, Daisy reminded herself, your life was dictated by the needs of your child. Charlie needed a dad, not a daddy-boy.

Against all expectations, Logan was a pretty great dad. Like Daisy, he’d earned his degree from SUNY New Paltz and settled in Avalon. He had bought an insurance agency from a guy who was retiring. Business was brisk. Despite hard economic times, people still needed to cover their asses in case something happened. Daisy didn’t know whether or not he felt passionate about his career, but he was totally devoted to Charlie. So far, their unconventional arrangement was working out.

Sometimes she caught herself wondering if this was really supposed to be her life.

She sighed, picked up the invitation once more, and turned the reply card over and over in her hands. The commissioning ceremony sounded important. It was important. Everything Julian had done since high school was important. With no money, nothing but brains and ambition, he had done exactly as she’d suggested that summer. He had qualified for ROTC to finance college. It was the only time she’d given advice and it had actually worked out. In exchange for his Ivy League education, he owed the next four years of his life to the air force, longer if he later qualified for pilot training.

This service incursion meant he might be sent anywhere in the world.

Anywhere but here, she thought, thinking about the place she called home—impossibly small, impossibly quaint Avalon, of absolute zero strategic value to the military.

She double-checked the date of the event.

Yes, she was free that day. Wendela’s Wedding Wonders employed several photographers and technicians, and Daisy wasn’t scheduled for anything that weekend. She could ask Logan to watch Charlie, and she could go to the event in Ithaca, camera in hand, to document this most auspicious moment.

She wanted to go. She needed to go. She needed to find some serious private time with Julian. After years of yearning for him, years of stumbling toward each other, only to be pulled apart by circumstances, she finally saw her chance.

Once and for all, she would do what she should have done long ago.

It was time to get real with Julian, with herself. She would have to be completely honest. Finally, after all this time, she was going to tell him exactly how she felt. Judging by his cryptic note on the back, she suspected he might be thinking the same thing.




Three







Falling through thin air at a speed of 150 mph, Julian Gastineaux exulted in the way the g-force of the wind seemed to enter his very essence. It ripped at every seam of his jumpsuit, filled his nose and mouth, turned his face into a nightmare visage of distorted features. He felt caught up in a power that was greater than any man, and it was the ultimate trip.

Kind of like being in love.

Unlike love, this was an optional training exercise. Although in his opinion, when offered a chance to jump out of a plane, a guy’s only option was to go for it. His work in the field was done, but he’d never been one to say no to a jump. He might be crazy but he wasn’t an idiot who’d turn down the opportunity. He loved the feeling of weightlessness and knowing that beneath him there was nothing but sky. He could see the patchwork countryside of middle New York State—undulating hills, river-fed farmland, a spectacular array of long lakes gouged out of the landscape as if by giant claws.

His altimeter vibrated, signaling that it was time to quit admiring the scenery. He loosed the pilot chute into the airstream.

A wind shear swooped in at the worst possible moment. As the bridle of the pilot chute was supposed to be pulling out the deployment bag of the main chute, control was torn from him.

And just like that, the optional training exercise turned to a nightmare. He was sent careening off target—way off target, way too fast, at the mercy of the stream. Grinding out curses through clenched teeth, he managed to wrestle the deployment bag out. The lines were supposed to release one stow at a time, but they were a tangled mess. The main chute was lopsided, out of control. He worked the toggles to slow the wind as the stream rushed him toward a dense thicket of trees.

He signaled Mayday, let out another string of violent curses and said a prayer.



The prayer was answered, sort of. He hadn’t slammed into the ground at 150 mph, turning himself into a pancake of blood and gristle. Instead, he’d managed to navigate a little and slow down. The landing wasn’t quite what he’d been aiming for, though.

Hanging upside down in his parachute harness, he surveyed the world from a unique vantage point. Pliant branches, covered in new leaves, bobbed up and down with his weight. He could see nothing but green and brown, no sign of civilization anywhere.

Damn. This had been the final exercise of his training here, and it was supposed to go well.

He forced himself to be slow and deliberate as he considered what to do. Blood trickled from somewhere on his face. He hurt in a lot of places; nothing felt broken, though his shoulder flared with fire. It might be dislocated. His goggles were completely wrecked. Just reaching for his utility knife caused him to slip too fast toward the ground, so he went still, trying to plan his next move. Breaking his neck right before commissioning would be the lamest of moves, for sure. And Daisy—he didn’t even want to think about what it would do to his plans for her and hoped like hell this mishap was not a bad omen.

He was still pondering his options, noting the strange feeling in his head, when a crashing noise sounded somewhere in the woods. A few minutes later a small figure in a jumpsuit appeared.

“You’re a damn maniac, that’s what you are,” railed Sayers, one of his training partners. She was a no-nonsense girl from Selma, Alabama, and she reminded Julian of some of his relatives in Louisiana. Except that unlike those relatives, Tanesha Sayers was duty-bound to give aid and assistance to her fellow officer in training.

“Fool,” she blustered, “you’re damned lucky your beacon worked. Otherwise you’d be swinging here till you turn purple in the head and die. Hell, I ought to let you turn purple.”

Julian let her yammer on. He made no excuses for himself; no sense blaming the wind shear. Besides, Sayers was basically harmless. She had an uncanny ability to berate a person roundly and simultaneously get things done. Slated for commissioning, same as Julian, she would make a good officer. She chewed him out, all the while hoisting herself up into the branches where he was caught and using a utility knife to cut him free.

“You got your own knife,” she pointed out. “Why the hell didn’t you get yourself down?”

“I was going to. Wanted to make sure I didn’t cut the wrong strap and land on my—” He plunged to the ground, slamming against the forest floor. He felt the impact despite his helmet.

“Head,” he finished. “Thanks, Mom.” In the unit, Sayers’s nickname was Mom because, although she fussed and bossed everyone around, she cared about each one of them with the fierceness of a mother bear.

“Don’t thank me, fool,” she said. “Just you hold still while I put a field dressing on that wound.”

“What wound?” He gingerly touched his forehead, feeling a warm slickness at his hairline. Great.

She jumped down, landing with a grunt, and radioed the base.

He wiped his hand on his jumpsuit, and that was when he thought about the ring. He’d carried it around for a long time. Even during the jump, he had kept it in a pocket next to his heart, layers deep, zipped up tight.

When the ring was offered to Daisy, it wasn’t going to be like last time, in the midst of a fistfight on a train platform, for Chrissake. This time.

He ripped open the Velcro collar tab at his throat and plunged his hand inside, fingers grappling with a zipper closure on his shirt.

Sayers knelt down in front of him. “What’s the matter?”

“Just checking for—ah.” Julian went limp with relief as his hand closed around the ring box. He pulled it out and flipped it open to reveal the prize—a certified nononflict diamond in a warm gold setting, engraved on the inner curve with “Forever.” He angled the box so Sayers could check it out.

She studied it thoughtfully. “Sorry, Jughead,” she said, using his nickname, “but I don’t love you in quite that way.”

“Sure you do.” He snapped the lid shut and tucked the box away. “You’re on your knees, baby.”

“Mmm.” She ripped open a blister pack of sterile wipes. “It’s your wounds I love. I swear, Jughead, you are a walking, talking crash test dummy. I love that about you.”

Sayers wanted to attend medical school one day. She was obsessed with blood and guts, the gorier, the better. Julian, with his penchant for going to extremes, had provided her with more than his share of abrasions, sprains, bruises and bleeders during their training.

She cleansed the gash and clamped it shut with a few butterfly bandages. As she worked, she said, “What are you doing, carrying that damn ring everywhere you go?”

“I don’t know what else to do with it,” he said. “Shoving it in the back of my underwear drawer seems a little … well, that’s where I used to stash my—never mind.” He didn’t want to go there with Sayers. “Sad to say, campus theft happens.”

Unspoken was another truth they both understood. If the jump had proven fatal, the presence of the ring box would’ve been a silent final message to the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to love forever.

“I figure I’ll keep it handy and I can pop the question when I know the time’s right.”

Sayers shook her head in disgust as she touched gentle fingers to the row of butterflies. “A word to the wise,” she cautioned. “Make sure the poor girl is present when you whip it out.”

“That’s the plan. I invited her to our commissioning ceremony, so if she comes for that—”

“Wait a minute, if? There’s some question?”

“Well, things have been a little weird for us,” he said. Understatement.

“Oh, now there’s a fine basis for a lasting relationship,” she said, putting away her gear and grabbing his hand. She yanked, helping him to his feet.

He shook out each limb, schooling himself not to wince at the pain. His nerve endings had nerve endings, but pain was only a feeling. Everything was in proper working order—that was the key. Despite the fiery aches, he was sure they hadn’t overlooked a break or sprain. Nope, he was good to go.

“See, here’s the thing,” he said, wading up the chute. “With Daisy and me—we’ve been like a moving target. Nothing is ever simple. She’s got this kid, a great kid, but he complicates things. She’s going in one direction, and I’m going in another, and we can never get on the same page.”

He and Sayers started hiking out of the woods. His heart sped up as he thought about Daisy. “I’m nuts about her, and I know she feels the same. Getting engaged is going to cut through all the extraneous crap and simplify everything.”

Sayers stopped walking and turned to him, putting her hand on his chest. “Oh, honey. Can you really be that stupid?”

He grinned. “You tell me.”

She studied his face, her expression reflecting concern, exasperation and barely suppressed compassion. “My mama once told me never to underestimate the thickness of a man’s skull. I think she was right.”

“What? She’s nuts about me, too,” Julian pointed out. “I know she is.”

“That makes two of you, then.”

It took a while to get back, make a full report, tag and submit the chute for a safety study.

Julian ignored a deep twinge of soreness in his shoulder as he returned to campus, stopping off at the student center to check his mail. He sorted through the small stack as he hiked back to the residence hall. He tried not to let the commissioning ceremony mean too much to him. It was a personal milestone, his achievement to own, and if nobody but his half brother, Connor, showed up for it, Julian would be okay with that.

Then again, he was probably telling himself that, preparing for disappointment.

Others in his detachment were planning on half the civilized world to show up. Julian simply didn’t have a ton of people in his life. His father, a professor at Tulane, had died when Julian was fourteen. Julian’s aunt and uncle, in Louisiana, had lacked the means and the space to take him in. With no other options available, Julian had gone to Chino, California, to live with his mother.

It wasn’t the kind of personal history that gave rise to a host of adoring relatives. Could be that was why he was so at home in the service. The people he trained with and worked with felt like family.

As usual, his mind wandered to Daisy. She came from a big extended family, which was one of the many things he loved about her, yet it was also one of the reasons he had trouble imagining a future with her. His duties meant she’d have to tell them all goodbye. It was a hell of a lot to ask of someone.

Flipping through the mail, he came to a small envelope, pre-addressed to him. He ripped into it, and his face lit up with a grin.

Everything fell away, his worries about the ceremony, the pain in his shoulder, the fact that he had a presentation due tomorrow, everything.

He stared down at the simple reply card: “Daisy Bellamy


? will___will not attend.” At the bottom, she’d scribbled, “Wouldn’t miss it! Bringing camera. See you soon.—XO.”

He was in a great mood by the time he got back to his room. Davenport, one of his suite mates, took one look at his face and asked, “Hey, did you finally get laid, Jughead?”

Julian simply laughed and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge.

“You must have finished your presentation, then,” said Davenport.

“Barely started it.”

“What’s the topic again?”

“Survivable Acts in Combat.”

“Which means it’ll be a very short list, eh? No wonder you’re not worrying.”

“You’d be surprised what disasters a person can survive,” Julian said.

“Fine. Surprise me.” Davenport swiveled away from his computer screen and waited.

“Parachute mishap, if you can find a soft place to fall,” Julian said, rotating his sore shoulder.

“Ha-ha. Give me a rocket-propelled grenade over that, any day.”

“A grenade can be survivable.”

“Not to the guy who throws himself on top of it to save his buddies.”

“You want to throw the thing back where it came from, ideally.”

“Good to know,” said Davenport.

Julian wasn’t worried about the topic. The hard part of life did not involve physical tasks and academic achievement. He could do school, no worries. He could run a marathon, swim a mile, do chin-ups one-handed. None of that was a problem.

He was challenged by things that came easily to most other people, like figuring out life’s biggest mystery—how love worked.

That was about to change.

There was no textbook or course of study to show him the way, though. Maybe it was like getting caught in a wind shear. You had to hang on, navigate as best you could and hope to land in one piece. That was kind of what he’d always done.



February 2007

Julian stared at the cover letter from the United States Secretary of the Air Force. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Three different ROTC detachments had admitted him, and now he had confirmation of his scholarship. Crushing the formally worded notice against his chest, he stood in the middle of a nondescript parking lot and looked up at the colorless sky over Chino, California. He was going to college. And he was going to fly.

Although bursting with the news, he couldn’t find anyone to tell. He tried to explain it in rapid-fire street Spanish to his neighbor, Rojelio, but Rojelio was late for work and couldn’t hang out with him. After that, Julian ran all the way to the library on Central Ave., barely sensing the pavement beneath his feet. He didn’t have a home computer, and he had to get his reply in right away.

The author John Steinbeck referred to winter in California as the bleak season, and Julian totally got that. It was the doldrums of the year. Chino, a highway town east of L.A., was hemmed in by smog to the west and mountain inversions to the east, often trapping the sharp, ripe smell of the stockyards, which tainted every breath he took. He tended to hole up in the library, doing homework, reading … and dreaming. The summer he’d spent at Willow Lake felt like a distant dream, misty and surreal. It was another world, like the world inside a book.

To make sure the other kids didn’t torture him at his high school, Julian had to pretend he didn’t like books. Among his friends, being good at reading and school made you uncool in the extreme, so he kept his appetite for stories to himself. To him, books were friends and teachers. They kept him from getting lonely, and he learned all kinds of stuff from them. Like what a half orphan was. Reading a novel by Charles Dickens, Julian learned that a half orphan was a kid who had lost one parent. This was something he could relate to. Having lost his dad, Julian now belonged to the ranks of kids with single moms.

His mom had never planned on being a mom. She’d told him so herself and, in a moment of over-sharing, explained that he’d been conceived at an aerospace engineering conference in Niagara Falls, the result of a one-night stand. His father had been the keynote speaker at the event. His mother had been an exotic dancer performing at the nightclub of the conference hotel.

Nine months later, Julian had appeared. His mother had willingly surrendered him to his dad. The two of them had been pretty happy together until his dad died. Julian’s high school years had been spent with his mom, who seemed to have no idea what to do with him.

He didn’t have a cell phone. He was, like, one of the last humanoids on the planet who didn’t have one. That was how broke he and his mom were. She was out of work again, and he had an after-school job at a car dealership, rotating tires and changing oil. Sometimes guys gave him tips, never the rich guys with the hot cars, but the workers with their Chevys and pickups. His mom had a mobile phone, which she claimed she needed in case she got called for an acting job, but the last thing they could handle was one more bill. Their phone service at the house was so basic, they didn’t even have voice mail.

At the library, he could surf the web and access his free email. He quickly found the ROTC site and used the special log-in provided in his welcome packet, feeling as though he’d gained membership to a secret club. Then he quickly checked his email. That was how he kept in touch with Daisy. They weren’t the best at corresponding, and there was nothing from her today. He had school and work; she’d recently moved from New York City to the small town of Avalon to live with her dad. She said her family situation was weird, what with her parents splitting up. He felt bad for her, but couldn’t offer much advice. His folks had never been together, and in a way, maybe that was better, since there was no breakup to adjust to.

Email only went so far, though. He wanted to call her with his news. And to thank her for reminding him college wasn’t out of his reach. Her suggestion, made last summer, had taken root in Julian. There was a way to have the kind of life he’d only dreamed about. In a casual, almost tossed-off remark, she had handed him a golden key.

The apartment he shared with his mother was in a depressing faux-adobe structure surrounded by weedy landscaping and a parking lot of broken asphalt. He let himself in; his mom wasn’t around. When she was out of work, she tended to spend most of her time on the bus to the city, going to networking meetings.

Julian paced back and forth in front of the phone. He finally got up the nerve to call Daisy. He wanted to hear her voice and tell her in person about the letter. The call was going to add to a cost he already couldn’t afford, but he didn’t care.

She picked up right away; she always did when he called her on her cell phone because nobody else called her from this area code. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself. Is this a good time?” he asked, thinking about the three-hour time difference. In the background of the call, he could hear music.

“It’s fine.” She hesitated, and he recognized the song—“Season of Loving” by the Zombies. He hated that song.

“Everything all right?” It was weird, he hadn’t seen her since last summer, but her It’s fine struck him as all wrong. “What’s up?” he asked.

She killed the music. “Olivia asked me to be in her wedding.”

“That’s cool, right?” Julian was going to be in the wedding, too, because his brother was the groom. He’d never attended a wedding before, but he couldn’t wait because it was going to take place in August at Camp Kioga. Suddenly it occurred to him to check his ROTC schedule to make sure he was free that day.

“It’s not so cool,” Daisy said, her voice kind of thin-sounding. “Listen, Julian, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you something. God, it’s hard.”

His mind raced. Was she sick? Sick of him? Did she want him to quit calling, make himself scarce? Did she have a boyfriend, for Chrissake?

“Then tell me.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I don’t hate anybody.” Not even the drunk driver who had hit his dad. Julian had seen the guy in a courtroom. The guy had been crying so hard he couldn’t stand up. Julian hadn’t felt hatred. Just an incredible, hollow sense of nothingness. “Seriously, Daze,” he said. “You can tell me anything.”

“I hate myself,” she said, her voice low now, trembling.

The phone wasn’t cordless, so his pacing was confined to a small area in front of a window. He looked out at the colorless February day. Down in the parking lot, Rojelio’s wife was bringing in groceries, bag after bag of them. Normally, Julian would run down and give her a hand. She had a bunch of kids—he could never get an accurate count—who ate like a swarm of locusts. All she did was work, buy groceries and fix food.

“Daisy, go ahead and tell me what’s going on.”

“I screwed up. I screwed up big-time.” Her voice sounded fragile, the words like shards of glass, even though he didn’t know what she was talking about. Whatever it was, he wanted to be there, wished he could put his arms around her, inhale the scent of her hair and tell her everything was going to be all right.

His mind scrolled through the possibilities. Had she started smoking again? Was she failing in school? He waited. She knew he was there. He didn’t need to prompt her anymore.

“Julian,” she said at last, a catch in her voice. “I’m going to have a baby. It’s due in the summer.”

The words were so unexpected, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He kept staring at Rojelio’s wife, now on her second trip with the grocery bags. Daisy Bellamy? Having a baby?

At Julian’s school, pregnant girls were pretty common, but Daisy? She was supposed to have, like, this privileged life where nothing bad ever happened. She was supposed to be his girlfriend. It was true, they’d parted ways in the summer having made no promises, but it was an unspoken assumption between them.

Or so he’d thought.

“Julian? Are you there?”

“Yeah.” He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

“I feel really stupid,” she said, crying now, sounding scared. “And it can’t be undone. The guy … he’s somebody from my school in New York. We weren’t even, like, together or anything. We got drunk one weekend, and … oh, Julian …”

He had no idea what to say. This was not the conversation he’d imagined when he’d picked up the phone. “I guess … wow, I hope you’re going to be all right.”

“I pretty much changed everything for myself. I told my parents, and they’re, like, in shock and everything, but they keep telling me it’ll all work out.”

“It will.” He had no idea if it would or not.

“Julian, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I feel terrible.”

So did he. “Look, it is what it is.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

“I want to see you.”

She breathed a sigh into the phone. “I still want to see you, too.”

“I guess we will at the wedding.”

“Right. So … enough about me.” She gave a weak laugh. “How are things with you?”

It didn’t feel right to share his news with her now. All the energy had been sucked out of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she was pregnant … and what she’d done in order to get that way.

“Everything’s fine,” he said.

“Good. Julian?”

“What?”

“I miss you.”

“Yeah,” he said, though he didn’t know what he missed. “Me, too.”




Four







“Hey, buddy,” said Daisy, perching on the edge of Charlie’s sandbox. “Guess what?”

Her son smiled up at her, green eyes twinkling in a way that never failed to catch her heart. “What?”

“You’re going to have a sleepover with your dad.”

“Okay.”

“Does that sound like fun?”

“Yep.” He went back to the trench he was digging in the sand.

The afternoon light filtered through the new leaves, glinting in his fiery red hair. “Silly question,” she said, pushing a toy truck along one of the roads he had paved. “You and your dad always have fun together, right?”

“Yep.” He filled a dump truck with sand. The backyard sandbox was elaborate, a gift from his O’Donnell grandparents for his third birthday. Charlie loved it. His grandpa O’Donnell claimed this was because shipping and transport—the O’Donnell family business—was in his blood, same as his red hair and green eyes.

He looked so much like Logan that Daisy sometimes wondered what part of her their son carried in him. Looking at Charlie felt like peering through a strange lens that took her back across time, to Logan as a child. Before she knew it, Charlie would be starting kindergarten; he’d be the same age Logan had been when Daisy had first met him. That was freaky to contemplate.

Logan’s mother, Marian, loved showing Daisy pictures of Logan at Charlie’s age. “It’s uncanny,” she would say. “They could be twins. Logan was always such a happy child,” Mrs. O’Donnell often added.

A happy child who had nearly ruined his life by the age of eighteen. Daisy suspected Logan had grown up under enormous pressure from his parents. He was the only boy of four kids, and his family was very traditional. Much had been expected of him. He was supposed to excel at academics and sports in school, and he had done so. He and Daisy had attended the same rigorous Manhattan prep school, where she’d watched him swagger through the halls with a twinkle in his eye. He came from a privileged background, and he’d been groomed to carry on the tradition—an Ivy League college, or at the very least, Boston College, his dad’s alma mater, followed by a position in the family’s international shipping firm.

Daisy looped her arms around her knees and watched Charlie, who was lost in a world of play. Why did parents saddle their kids with expectations, instead of letting the kid become whoever he wanted to be? Didn’t they know it made kids want to do the opposite?

It was a sports injury that precipitated Logan’s descent into drug addiction. A soccer championship was on the line, and Logan had suffered a knee injury. He discovered if he swallowed enough painkillers, he could keep playing.

Hide your pain and keep on playing. It was the O’Donnell family way.

Daisy pushed her son’s toy truck over a plastic bridge and silently vowed never to pressure him about anything. Ever. She wondered if her own parents had made that same vow about her. Didn’t every generation promise to be better parents than their own parents had been? How come it never worked out that way?

“Good, it’s all settled, then,” she said to Charlie. “A sleepover with your dad.”

“Because you’re working?” Charlie asked, scooping out a hole with a yellow plastic shovel.

That was the only reason she ever left him. To work. This time was different.

She paused her truck at the end of the bridge and took a breath. “This is not for work. I’m going to see Julian.”

Charlie didn’t stop digging and he didn’t look up. “Daddy-boy,” he said quietly.

“Okay?” she asked.

No response.

“Julian’s got something important to do called a commissioning ceremony.” It was the moment Julian would actually be given his officer’s commission, and she couldn’t imagine missing it. “It’s a really big deal to be an officer in the air force,” she added, wondering how much of this Charlie was absorbing. She stuck a plastic gas station by the side of the sandbox road and pushed her truck into the bay to fuel up. “They’re going to tell everybody where he has to go for his job. He could be sent anywhere in the world, from Tierra del Fuego to the North Pole.”

“Where Santa lives,” Charlie said, his face lighting up.

“You never know.”

She shook off a wave of melancholy, thinking about how hard it was going to be, seeing him go off somewhere to start his life as an officer. She was determined not to show her sadness. This weekend was about celebrating Julian’s incredible achievement, not about lamenting the chance they’d never had.

“Tell you what,” she said to Charlie. “Let’s go grab some lunch and you can pick out three toys to take to your dad’s.”

“Four toys,” he said, always pushing for more.

She was pretty sure he didn’t know what four was, but that wasn’t the point. You didn’t bargain with a little kid. “Three,” she said. “And they have to fit in your Clifford bag.”



Charlie was sound asleep in his car seat when Daisy drove up to Logan’s place. She spotted him up on the roof of the house he’d bought last fall, pounding at something. The house was old and graceful, from the 1920s, on a tree-lined street prized for its vintage architecture and quiet ambiance. The neighborhood was a haven for the upwardly mobile, close to schools and the country club. It didn’t appeal to Daisy in particular—her taste ran to funky lakeside cottages—but Logan had embraced home ownership with his usual tenacity.

Like all older homes, the house had issues. He insisted on doing many of the renovations himself, even though he could probably afford any contractor he wanted. It was as if he had something to prove. Born to a wealthy family, he’d never had to do home repairs. With his new place, he embraced the challenge. It was a steep-roofed two-story house surrounded by overgrown rhododendrons and hydrangea bushes, with a big hickory tree in the front. He must have heard her drive up because he paused in his work and lifted his arm to wave.

He lost his balance and wheeled his arms, and his feet came out from under him. Gathering speed, he skidded down the steep slope of the roof. It was like something out of a nightmare. Daisy opened her mouth in a voiceless scream and clamped both hands over her mouth. A part of her understood that this would be a really bad time for Charlie to awaken—in time to see his daddy fall to his death.

Logan grabbed for a purchase, hooking onto the eaves. The old metal tore away. He tumbled to the edge and dropped like a sack of mail, crashing down on an old rhododendron bush.

Daisy leapt out of the car and rushed over to him. He lay by the broken bush, motionless. His eyes were closed, his face chalk-white.

A sense of unreality fell over her. No. These things didn’t happen. They weren’t supposed to happen. He looked dead. He was dead. Just like that.

She couldn’t catch her breath. She sank to her knees beside him. “Logan, no,” she said. “Please.”

A terrible sound came from him as he sucked in a breath. “Please … what?” His eyes fluttered open, and he groaned.

She cried harder, from joy now. “Are you all right? I thought you were dead.”

“Hey, I thought I was dead. Completely knocked the wind out of me.”

“Should I call 911?”

He pushed himself up, plucked a rhody branch from his hair. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the emergency is over.” He moved his head from side to side. “No broken neck. Extremities all intact.”

A thin, livid scrape slashed across his cheek, and his hand was bleeding.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Okay enough, I swear.” He wiped his hand on his shirt.

“You shouldn’t have been up on the roof all by yourself. Couldn’t you have called someone?”

“Now you’re sounding like my mother.”

“Sorry.”

He offered a lopsided grin. “Maybe the fall knocked the silver spoon from my mouth. Here, give me a hand.”

She pulled him to his feet and looked into his eyes, making sure the pupils matched. “Did you hit your head?”

“Nope. Fell on my ass.” He laid his arm around her shoulders. He smelled of sweat and broken greenery. “I should lean on you, though. You know, just in case. Where’s my boy?”

“Asleep in the car.”

“I got plans for us this weekend,” said Logan. “My soccer team’s got a big match.”

She cast another worried look at him. “You might be really hurt.”

He stepped away from her, spread his arms wide. “Look, I’m fine, okay? I took a spill—”

“From a two-story roof.”

“And lived to tell the tale,” he said. “Quit worrying. Charlie and I’ll be fine. Perfectly fine.”

“What were you doing up there, anyway?”

“Fixing some loose shingles. A regular home handyman.”

“Do me a favor. No ladders, no roof repairs while you’re in charge of Charlie.”

He raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor.” He unbuckled Charlie’s seat and pulled it out. Charlie stirred but didn’t wake up, so Logan carried the whole rig into the house. Daisy followed with the Clifford bag and Charlie’s weekender.

“I could call Sonnet,” she suggested. Her stepsister was Charlie’s favorite babysitter. After finishing her studies and internships in Germany, Sonnet was back in Avalon for a few months. In the fall, she would start work at the U.N.

“Or either of my parents could help out—”

“Enough, okay? I didn’t get hurt. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own kid.” He spoke quietly, but his voice had an edge. Because of his past as an addict and drunk, people tended to tiptoe around him or assume he was inadequate. Just the suggestion of help brought out his defensiveness.

“I know you’re capable. But you just fell off a roof. You’re not Superman.”

He grabbed a Nehi soda from the fridge. “Sure, I am.” He offered her a sip.

She shook her head. “All right. Instead of getting another sitter, I could cancel.” Thus proving once again how easily life interfered with her and Julian.

“Nope,” he said quickly. “No way.”

This startled her. Logan knew she was going to the commissioning ceremony, and he couldn’t stand Julian. In Logan’s mind, Julian was the one thing that stood between them, preventing them from having a deeper relationship. Which was so wrong, but that was a different conversation. Still, she didn’t get why Logan seemed to want her to go to Ithaca.

He must have read her mind. “You need to see him get his commission. Maybe it’ll be, I don’t know, closure for you.”

“Closure?” She hated the sound of that word.

“You need to see that the air force is his life.” Logan spoke kindly. “You’ll never be first with him. Maybe after this weekend, after he gets sent to Timbuktu, that’ll finally be clear to you.”

It irked her that Logan assumed that was the way things would play out. He spoke as if he had some kind of crystal ball.

“Great, now you’re my relationship analyst.” God, how did I get here? she wondered. Sometimes she looked around her life and asked herself that. How was it that she was getting relationship advice from the father of her child, a guy who had come into her life through an act of bad judgment, and stayed through sheer determination.

“Logan—”

“I want you to know, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, not to Timbuktu or the Pentagon or North Dakota or Cape Town. Here, Daisy. You know what you mean to me.”

She did know. If she ever needed a reminder that this was true, all she had to do was remember what had happened the Christmas before last. The day had started out innocently enough. She and Charlie had been invited to spend the holiday with the O’Donnells, which meant taking the train with Logan from Avalon downstate to the city. She remembered feeling so torn that day, knowing Charlie deserved equal time with his paternal grandparents, yet realizing it would mean spending the holiday away from her own family. For Charlie’s sake, she’d put on a brave face, packed her bag and met Logan at the station.

At the last minute, Julian had come to town to surprise her. His train had arrived shortly before hers was scheduled to leave. He’d come bounding over to her platform with his usual exuberance, which deflated visibly the moment he’d spotted Logan. She hadn’t known they would both be there. It was never comfortable having the two of them in the same vicinity.

Predictably, and to her complete mortification, it had all gone wrong in a flurry of angry words and accusations. Like a couple of rutting animals, Julian and Logan had gotten into a fistfight right there on the train platform. A fistfight. Between two men who both claimed they cared about her—Logan, the passionate family man she’d known all her life and the father of her child, and Julian, the guy she hadn’t been able to get out of her heart since they’d first met.

In the midst of the altercation, things had flown from pockets, littering the platform—change, a Swiss Army knife, keys … and a small velveteen jewel box. It had hit the pavement, popping open to reveal the unmistakable glint of a diamond ring. She’d been so shocked, she could barely think, but she’d blurted out, “Oh. You dropped something.”

And God help her, she couldn’t be certain who had brought the ring.

Most women dreamed of a romantic marriage proposal offered on bended knee with soft music playing in the background. In Daisy’s case it had been a nightmare enacted in public before a crowd of people. A far cry from a tender moment to remember and savor with misty-eyed fondness, it had been one of those occasions that had left her wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Instead of a sweet recitation of love and devotion, the occasion had started with a fight. What happened next still made her cringe. A babble of spectators. Strangers pressing in, drawn by the drama. There had been a moment, a split-second leap of hope, when she imagined the ring had popped out of Julian’s pocket. But no. Marriage was discouraged for ROTC candidates.

Seconds later, with one eye swelling shut and a trickle of blood coming from his lip, Logan had snatched up the box and said, “I meant to surprise you with this, but that son of a bitch forced my hand. I want you to be my wife.”

Julian had made a sound of disgust and stalked away from the platform. More passengers gathered in close, intrigued. Daisy had prayed for a swift, merciful death.

She had refused to see either Julian or Logan that Christmas and had spent the next semester and summer studying photography abroad. After several months in Germany, where her stepsister Sonnet had been living and working, Daisy had returned, as confused as ever.

“The offer’s still open,” Logan said now, and she knew exactly what he was referring to.

“My answer is the same.”

Logan smiled a little. “Your lips are saying no, but what you really mean is, not yet.”

“No means no,” Charlie murmured, waking up with a drowsy smile. It was one of those phrases Daisy tended to say to him … a lot.

“Hey, buddy.” Logan hunkered down and freed the little boy from the car seat. “I’ve been waiting to see you all day.”

“Dad.” Charlie clung to him like a monkey and they kissed.

Daisy watched, caught by fondness and exasperation both. Complicated. That was the word for her life. How simple everything would be if only she could believe she was supposed to be with Logan. The three of them together—a family. What was wrong with her? She and Logan had made this amazing child. Why couldn’t they be happy together?




Five







The officer in the mirror stared back at Julian with a sense of grave purpose. Who was this intensely serious guy? He didn’t even recognize himself. Was that him?

Like so much of officer training, this was a deliberate strategy on the part of the air force. Through all the drills and preparation, the individual was taken apart and remade, perhaps reborn in a way. This suited him fine, dumping a past he couldn’t change for one he could control. He was learning to look the part—an officer. A leader. A warrior.

“My, my,” said Davenport, letting loose with a wolf whistle. “Aren’t you as sweet as honey?”

“Screw you.” The man in the mirror grinned, appearing a little more familiar now. Then he checked the time. “I’m ready to get the show on the road.”

“Have a seat. We’ve still got a half hour.”

“Can’t,” said Julian.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t sit down. Do you know how long it took me to get these creases right?”

“Hours and hours,” Davenport said with a laugh; then he sobered. “Dude, you look like a million bucks. Or at least like you’ve earned the commission you’re getting today.”

Julian had no idea if his suite-mate was right. He’d worked his ass off, but given the nature of his first assignment, whether or not he was prepared could be anybody’s guess. The most frustrating thing about the news was its top secret classification. He couldn’t tell anybody the details. He didn’t even know most of the details himself. For the past year, he’d been groomed to be part of a special team, a highly unlikely designation for someone at his level. Although he knew his base assignment, he could tell people only that he’d been commissioned for active duty.

He shook hands with his friend, and Davenport resumed his jocular air. “I might advise you to go for a short walk to clear your head, but that would be a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You are way too pretty in full dress uniform. You’ll end up going through the whole ceremony dragging along an entourage of drooling women.”

“Right. And how many women do you know who get turned on by the sight of brass buttons and epaulettes?”

“I guess you’re about to find out.”

Julian checked out his service dress uniform again, making sure every detail was right. Ribbons, devices, badges, insignia—all present and accounted for. Stuck in the side of the mirror was a five-year-old photo of him and Daisy, standing side by side, laughing at the camera. He remembered the exact instant it had been taken, with the shutter on timer. She’d made him laugh by saying, “Okay, pretend you like me,” knowing full well they were totally into each other.

He was glad he remembered because otherwise he might not even believe the kid in the picture had ever existed. That tall, skinny kid with waist-length dreadlocks, assorted tattoos and piercings and a bad attitude was a stranger to the clean-cut officer in the mirror. Julian had been a punk—an adrenaline junkie with not much going for him except an unexpectedly stellar academic record and test performances. And of course, his status as a minority. He didn’t want people to assume race was the reason he’d been admitted to an Ivy League school and an elite training program, so he made sure he outperformed everyone else.

Taking pains not to mess up his uniform, he slipped his hand into his inner breast pocket and touched the ring for luck.

His phone buzzed, and he picked up. “Gastineaux.”

“Hey Mister Almost-second Lieutenant,” said his brother, Connor. “We’re outside. Come on down.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Connor and Olivia had driven from Avalon with Daisy. His nerves jangled with excitement. He turned to Davenport and was startled to see all five of his suitemates gathered at the exit. They had shared quarters all year long. They’d fought and laughed and partied and competed and helped one another. Now the five of them formed a gauntlet at the door.

“Good luck, Jughead,” said Williams. “We wish you the best.”

The solemnity of the moment was broken by Del Rio, who played the air force hymn on a kazoo.

Julian saluted them with all the smartness and respect he would afford a superior officer. “Thanks, guys.”

He made one last check of everything. Tie, perfectly knotted. Shoes, gleaming. Hat, well-placed on his shorn head.

He was ready. He was so damn ready. He took the elevator because the stairwells tended to be dusty. He emerged into the small lobby of the residence hall and headed for the door, which opened onto a shady courtyard. In search of his visitors, he strode outside, his heart beating a mile a minute.

When he saw Daisy, he could feel himself smile out of every pore of his body, if such a thing were possible. She was wearing a yellow dress with white dots, white sandals with heels. Toenails painted pink. And a smile he saw every night in his dreams.

“Julian!” She ran over to him but brought herself up short. A shadow of something—uncertainty, bashfulness?—flickered in her face. “Is it okay to hug you?” she asked. “I don’t want to muss your uniform.”

He laughed and held his arms wide. He didn’t care if she smeared lipstick all over his formal blue shirt, truth be told. She looked like a fantasy to him; staring at her was like staring at the sun too long. So bright, she hurt his eyes.

“Girl, you can mess me up anytime you want,” he whispered into her silky blond hair.

“I might take you up on that,” she said, but then she stepped back, smoothing her hands down his jacket sleeves. “You look incredible. Just so you know.”

His heart hammered against the ring stashed in his pocket. He almost did the deed right then and there, but forced himself to wait, take a breath, try to think a coherent thought.

He greeted Connor and Olivia, and Zoe in her stroller. Julian’s half brother, Connor, was also his best friend. If Connor hadn’t stepped in when Julian was an exploding teenager en route to juvey, things would have turned out very differently for him.

Olivia and Daisy were cousins, though they looked enough alike to be mistaken for sisters. There was definitely a Bellamy family resemblance—blond, classy, but not too full of themselves. More than that, they both seemed to be the type of women who inspired thoughts of forever.

“We have a surprise for you,” Daisy said, leading the way to the paved footpath, crowded with families headed toward Statler Auditorium.

“What kind of surprise?” He wasn’t expecting anything “This kind!” She brought him around a corner of the walkway. In the shade of a budding chestnut tree stood a slender woman in a blue dress and high-heeled sandals.

“Mom!” Julian couldn’t believe his eyes. His mother? Here?

She had sent her regrets several weeks ago, saying she couldn’t get away from work this weekend. These days, she had a job on a cable series filmed in L.A., and was in the middle of taping a new season of episodes.

But here she was, beaming at him. “Well, look at you,” she said. “My lord, but you make me proud.”

“Me, too,” said a deep, sonorous voice Julian hadn’t heard in years. Three others arrived from the direction of the parking lot.

“Uncle Claude! And Tante Mimi. Remy!” Julian laughed aloud. “I feel like I’m seeing things.”

Uncle Claude was the brother of Julian’s late father. When he died, Claude and Mimi had offered to take Julian in, but there was no room and no money in their tiny, southern Louisiana house. Remy was their youngest of four and developmentally disabled.

He and Julian were the same age. As kids, they used to be fast friends. “Hey, Remy,” he said, completely elated. “Remember me?”

“�Course,” said Remy, “I got me a book full of pictures of us.” He still sounded like the cousin Julian had known, speaking slowly and hesitantly, as always. The speech impediment was muted now, and his voice rang with a deep resonance, like his dad’s.

When the two of them were young, Julian had gotten into many a fight, defending his cousin from the teasing of other kids. Fully grown, Remy looked like an NFL linebacker, and it was doubtful he suffered from teasing anymore.

“I’m real glad you’re here,” Julian said. He turned to his brother. “Is this your doing?”

“You can thank my lovely wife. She made it happen. I think she might have been a genie in a past life.”

Julian gave Olivia a hug. “You’re the best.”

He glanced at Daisy and caught her eye. Other than Connor, she’d never met any of his family. She didn’t know the world he’d come from, how different his upbringing had been from hers. She seemed at ease with them, however, walking alongside Remy as they made their way to the auditorium for the ceremony.

“You’ll have to tell me stories about you and Julian, growing up,” she said to his cousin.

“I got stories.” Remy offered a bashful grin. “I can tell you stories �bout me and Julian, for sure.”

“We’re going to dinner after the ceremony,” said Connor. “He can fill you in then.”

Even with the extra family members, they were one of the smaller groups to attend the commissioning. He spotted Tanesha Sayers with her mother and a whole entourage of aunties and cousins, a colorful garden of black ladies wearing fancy hats. A beaming Sayers waved at him from across the yard. “Good luck, Jughead,” she called.

“Same to you.” Where she was going, she’d need it. To her disappointment, her plan to attend med school had been deferred because the air force needed her elsewhere. The good news was, she was headed to a posting in the Pentagon to work in protocol. With that sharp tongue of hers, it would be a challenge.

“Friend of yours?” Daisy asked.

“Sayers is in my detachment.” He was dying to figure out if Daisy was jealous. He kind of wanted her to be, because of what that would mean.

“She calls you Jughead.” She laughed. “I like it.”

“Hey, how about some family pictures before we go in,” Connor suggested.

“I’m on it,” Daisy said.

Julian’s family didn’t resemble anything people pictured when they thought of “family,” but they were all connected, and it meant the world to him that they had come. Daisy took photos of him and the others in every possible combination. They were definitely a picture of diversity. Connor, whose father was white, looked like Paul Bunyan in a new suit. Their mother, who these days called herself Starr, was as blond as Olivia and Daisy, while his aunt, uncle and cousin had the same fine ebony coloring as Julian’s late father. Julian himself was a mixture of dark and light, and was sometimes mistaken for Latino. Which, where he was headed, was not necessarily a bad thing.

He was dying to tell Daisy what he could of his news, to really have a chance to talk to her, but now was not the time. Likely the same thought had occurred to her; she was doing that thing she sometimes did, lifting her camera up, like a shield between her and the world.

“She’s a famous photographer,” Connor told Uncle Claude as she crouched down for a shot of a manicured campus garden with Remy and Mimi in the background.

“Get out,” said Daisy, her face flushed. “I’m not famous.”

“She’s a professional,” Julian explained, happy to contradict her. “She’s one of the youngest photographers ever to be published in the New York Times.”

“Your work was in the New York Times?“ Julian’s mom perked up. Anything having to do with fame and image generally intrigued her.

“It was one assignment,” she said. “I had a lucky break involving a local baseball player.”

“Everybody starts somewhere,” his mom said. “I’d love to see the pictures.”

“You’re going to love this even more.” Daisy positioned Julian and his mom side by side, with Cornell’s clock tower behind them. “The light’s really pretty here.”

Starr glanced back at the tower. “Looks like the set of a sniper movie I was in a few years ago. The shooter was up on the ledge surrounding the clock, and we had to figure out a way to escape.”

“And did you?” Julian asked.

“Yep. As I recall, I set something on fire and created a smoke screen. Who knows, now that you’re going to be a hotshot in the air force, you’ll be doing things like that for real.” She turned her gaze up to Julian, and he recognized a rare flash of pride in her regard. His mom knew so little about his life. In a way, that saddened him, but in another way, it was very liberating. She never had any expectations for him to live up to, so he had no trouble exceeding them.

“Has anyone ever mentioned you look like Heidi Klum?” Daisy asked.

Julian could feel his mom’s gratification in her posture. “You think?”

“Sure.” Daisy took several shots.

“I like this girl,” said Julian’s mom. “Where’d you find her?”

His eyes met Daisy’s, and he read the question there. No, he’d never explained Daisy to his mother. In the first place, Starr was too self-absorbed to actually care. And in the second place, his relationship with Daisy often seemed to defy explanation.

Since Starr had asked him a direct question, he went with the digest version. “We met the summer before our senior year of high school. Remember, the summer I spent at Willow Lake.”

Looking back, Julian now realized he’d been saved in more ways than one that summer. Camp Kioga and the Bellamys had been a revelation to Julian. He met not just Daisy, but a whole group of people who were nothing like the cholos he hung out with in his industrial town east of L.A. The people he’d met that summer saw life as filled with promise, not a dead end, even for a kid like him. He simply had to pick his path and do what he needed to do in order to get where he wanted to be. Despite its simplicity, this was a concept that had not occurred to him before.

“You’ve been together since high school and you never told me? “ his mother chided him.

“Um …” Daisy looked uncomfortable and lifted up her camera again.

“Mom, check it out.” With perfect timing, Connor interrupted, pushing the baby stroller into her path. “Zoe just woke up, and she’s ready to see her grandma.”

The little two-year-old eyed her glamorous grandmother with cautious interest. Absorbed with her life in L.A., Starr had only seen the tot one other time, soon after Zoe was born.

“Of course she wants to.” Starr clasped her hands, beaming at the pretty, yellow-haired child. “But �grandma’ sounds so … so old. We’ll have to come up with some alternative, won’t we, Zoe?”

The awkward moment passed, and Julian’s mood was buoyant by the time they reached the imposing, concrete-and-glass auditorium.

He took his place with the other cadets and midshipmen; all service branches were represented. A brass band played a couple of standards, and the glee club sang “America the Beautiful.”

The school president’s address was a balance of idealism and realism. “Today we honor you. Your numbers are few but your commitment is great. The call to serve one’s country is heard and heeded only by a select cadre of individuals, and our nation is fortunate indeed that the likes of you will join the ranks of our greatest heroes. And to the families—we honor you as well, because you are about to let them go now.”

At that, Daisy pushed a wad of Kleenex against her face. Julian winced, feeling her pain echo through him. He wished he could tell her it wasn’t going to be that way, that nobody had to let anything go. But he’d be wrong. The price for this career was steep, in terms of relationships. Damn. He hoped she understood. He needed this. He needed the purpose and the pride of being an officer in the air force. And God knew, he needed the money. His education had not cost him a cent. Now he would repay the debt with a chunk of his life. Back when he’d signed up for ROTC, it had seemed a fair enough exchange.

One by one, the candidates crossed the stage, raised a right hand and spoke the oath that would seal admittance into the military’s most elite class of commissioned officers. Each man or woman stood proudly as family members pinned the rank or bars onto each shoulder. Julian’s mother played her role with gusto, managing to project intense emotion as she stood on one side of Julian, while his father’s brother stood on the other.

Julian earned a citation for physical performance and engineering. It was the engineering prize that nearly did him in, right there in front of everyone.

His father had been a rocket scientist. It had always been a family joke that Louis Gastineaux’s passion for work surpassed his passion for life itself. He’d led an unconventional life, but Julian had always felt safe and protected. Sure, he’d wished for a mom, but his father had explained her absence without bitterness or recrimination. “It’s something she’s called to do,” Louis had told his small son, whenever Julian had asked about her. “Just like me and physics.”

“But you’re with me,” Julian would argue.

“How could I not be?” his dad would gently ask. “Tell me that, honey. How could I not be with you?” That had been before tragedy had struck, before the car accident that had paralyzed Julian’s father and eventually caused his death.

At the podium, Julian held the plaque of commendation. Thanks, Dad, he thought. I love you.

He didn’t know what kind of life his father had dreamed of for him. But today, he thought maybe this might be it.

Afterward, there was a dinner at Cornell’s hotel school restaurant. Julian was still dying for some time alone with Daisy, but it wasn’t to be. The mixed blessing of a family demanded that he attend to all of them. He told himself he’d waited a long time, and another few hours wouldn’t matter.

Everyone wanted to know about his orders. Where would the future take him? What would he be doing? How many in his command? The questions buzzed around him, as they had these last few weeks. People in his detachment had been swapping their news and speculation for several weeks. Plenty were going on to be pilots or navigators, but the chain of command had a different plan for Julian.

Due to the nature of the mission, he wasn’t able to say much. “It’s an active-duty assignment,” he said. “A cooperative international venture. I’ll be doing tactical and operations training.”

“What’s that?” asked Remy.

“Just … doing my duty.”

“Duty. You’re good at that stuff, Jules,” said Remy.

“Where will you be stationed?” asked Connor.

Julian paused. His gaze flicked to Daisy, who sat beside him. He could feel her holding her breath. There was only so much he was authorized to share.

“Colombia,” he said. “There’s a newly upgraded base there called Palanquero.”

His uncle let out a low whistle. “Man. Colombia.” Julian could practically feel Daisy wilt with disappointment, but she kept her smile in place. “That’s exciting, Julian,” she said. “You’ll get to use your Spanish.”

He couldn’t tell her, but he’d been groomed specifically for this one-of-a-kind assignment. His training had been multifaceted, including attendance at the Inter-American Air Forces Academy in Texas and undergoing rigorous security evaluations to make sure he was fit for covert ops.

He had first encountered Colonel Sanchez, the head of the operation, during a field training exercise two summers ago. He hadn’t known it then, but Sanchez had been combing the rosters, identifying personnel for the team. Julian fit the bill. He had the physical qualifications, the language skills, the technical and tactical skills. At first he hadn’t realized he was actually being scrutinized for high-risk operations. He later learned his reputation for being an adrenaline junkie had made him an early favorite.

These days, the troubles in Colombia didn’t tend to make headlines. The rebel FARC and other anti-government paramilitary organizations had diminished, and news from the Middle East and even Mexico tended to overshadow Colombia, although the mountainous nation still produced eighty percent of the world’s cocaine. What the press generally failed to mention was that in the wake of the paramilitary demobilization, criminal groups had arisen and filled the niche, like opportunistic infections. The drugs kept coming. And in recent times, something sinister had developed—ties between the drug cartels and terrorist organizations. That, combined with a base closing in Ecuador, had spurred the U.S. to action. The idea behind the action coalition was to disrupt the activities of the drug and weapon operations, and cause their organizations to fall apart.

“All I know about Colombia is the coffee,” his mother admitted. “And stories about scary drug lords.”

Julian didn’t say any more. He couldn’t; it was strictly classified. Those scary drug lords were the reason he was being sent to South America.




Six







Staying in a hotel was a treat for Daisy. Sometimes while on a wedding assignment, she stayed at the venue, but that was work. Unfortunately, all the luxury in the world could not translate into a good night’s sleep when she was working.

Nor could it when she was worrying. And on this night, she was worrying. She paced the floor. Stared out the window at the moonrise as it tracked imperceptibly across the night sky. And paced some more.

Colombia. It was half a world away; she’d checked it out on Google maps. She and Julian hadn’t managed to get together while living in the same state. Now that he was going to be on a different continent, what hope did they have?

Julian was about to start a different life, as an officer and a gentleman. A striver, a patriot. A man with a duty to his country, about to embark upon the adventure of a lifetime. But all she could think about was that his duties were going to take him far away from her into an unknown and dangerous world.

Be happy for him, she told herself. Everything is as it should be.

Had she been fooling herself all along, thinking there was a chance for them? Now, more than ever, she needed to have a difficult, honest conversation with him about the two of them. Their relationship was a series of encounters filled with a burning chemistry that thus far, had led only to yearning and frustration. Whenever she even thought of him, she felt a longing so fierce it hurt. Still, all the longing in the world didn’t add up to any kind of future together. For that matter, they’d never even declared their love aloud. They’d never had time or space for anything to grow and develop, knitting them together.

They were stuck in the magic stage; they idealized each other, not knowing for certain if they were truly meant to be together. Maybe they had habits that would eventually annoy one another. Maybe they were sexually incompatible; she wouldn’t know, because they’d never slept together. Maybe they were on different paths and destined to stay that way.

But in her heart of hearts, she wished this didn’t have to be the case. She loved him with so much of herself that she couldn’t imagine any other way to feel. To stop loving him would be to stop breathing the air.

Still, all the love in the world couldn’t change the fact that she was tied to home, to Charlie and his dad, while Julian was bound for adventure. The only practical thing to do was to make their peace with reality. She tortured herself with the very real possibility that in his travels, Julian might meet someone, a woman who was free to follow him to the ends of the earth. For the briefest of moments, she fantasized about what it would be like to be that woman, unfettered, nothing keeping her from striking out on an adventure. Then she thought of Charlie and immediately felt guilty. How could she even imagine a life without Charlie?

Somehow, she managed to steal a few hours of sleep. In the morning, they all gathered for breakfast. She sat next to Julian, watching him methodically eat his way through the buffet—an omelet, pancakes, cereal, fruit—like a starving man.

“You always did have a big appetite, boy,” Tante Mimi said fondly.

“�Member when we had that pie-eating contest?” Remy asked.

“Sure,” said Julian. “I was the winner.”

“Yeah, but you had a bellyache all night.” Remy leaned forward to catch Daisy’s eye. “Me and Jules, we went camping at the state park. What we call that park, Mama?”

“I don’t remember,” said Tante Mimi. “It was by Lake Ponchartrain.”

“Yeah,” said Remy, “with our scouting group, and we had the eating contest. Learned stuff, too.” He handed Julian a plastic matchbox. “�Member this? I made it for you.”

“Thanks, Remy.” Julian slid open the box. “Strike-anywhere matches, a water purification tablet … It’s everything I need to survive in the wilderness.” He took out a small wire. “I don’t remember what this is for.”

Remy beamed, clearly delighted to be the authority. “You rub it on your hair and set it on top of some water, and it’ll always point north.” He frowned at Julian. “You got enough hair for that, Jules?”

Julian burst out laughing. “I guess I’d better check.” He demonstrated the makeshift compass on his water glass.

The tiny filament swung gently toward Remy. “Look at that,” Julian said. “You’re my true north, Rem.”

“Even in Colombia?” Remy asked.

Julian’s smile stayed in place, though Daisy sensed the tension ramping up. “A compass works differently south of the equator,” he said. “Still works, though. Thanks, Remy.”

His New Orleans relatives and his mother had a long day of travel ahead of them. Daisy would be driving back to Avalon with Connor, Olivia and baby Zoe.

Soon, Daisy would be back with Charlie and the life she’d made for herself. A few times, she caught herself thinking, I wish … And then she would rein herself in. Let him go, she thought. Let him go.

After breakfast, she returned to her room to get her bag, pausing to check her hair and makeup. For some reason, it seemed important to look nice when she told him goodbye.

In the lobby, she was surprised to find Julian there by himself.

He was dressed in civilian clothes, loose cargo shorts and a pink golf shirt. It didn’t escape Daisy’s notice that every woman who passed by checked him out, yet he seemed oblivious to the attention. He had no idea how amazing he looked, at the peak of fitness, his posture perfect even when he was relaxing. The minute he spotted Daisy, his gaze never wavered, focusing on her with laserlike intensity.

So much had changed for them both, but one thing remained constant—this pull of emotion that drew them together. It felt particularly present this morning, and Daisy discovered she was not the only one who felt that way.

“Morning,” he said in a low voice that sounded intoxicatingly sexy. “I thought you’d never get here.”

This was not, she reminded herself, the way she had scripted the conversation in her head. She was supposed to have a talk with him, tell him their lives were taking them in different directions and figure out how they were both going to deal with that.

“Where is everyone else?” she asked, trying to get her bearings.

“They all took off for the airport. They said to tell you goodbye.”

“Connor and Olivia?”

Julian picked up her overnight bag. “Already headed back to Avalon.”

“What?” She stopped in the hotel doorway. “But what about me?”

“I’ll get you home.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re driving me all the way to Avalon?” It was a long drive. The idea of having him all to herself was almost too much to bear.

“I’m not driving you,” he said.

“Then how—?”

“You’ll see.”

They boarded a campus-to-town bus marked Cayuga, the name of the narrow, forty-mile-long lake that stretched from Ithaca to Seneca Falls.

She looked around nervously at the other passengers. “Don’t tell me we’re—”

“Hush.” He gently put a finger to her lips, and his touch made her shiver despite the warmth of the day. “You’ll see.”

She tried to steel herself against his charms but instead settled into a sense of delicious anticipation. Their heart-to-heart could wait a bit longer. “I do love surprises,” she said.

“Then I guess you’ll love this.”

At the lakefront he led the way past a busy marina, bobbing with sailboats and runabouts. There was a boathouse, with kayaks and canoes stacked on racks. At the end of a long, L-shaped dock were a couple of float planes.

When Julian started down the dock, she balked. “Really, Julian? Seriously? You’re flying?”

He grinned, his eyes bright with excitement. “You okay with that?”

Unable to hold herself back, she set down her camera bag and raced toward him, leaping into his embrace and wrapping her arms and legs around him. “What do you think? “ she demanded.

He held her as if she weighed nothing. “Cool. We’ll be back in Avalon before Connor and Olivia.”

“I’m in no hurry,” she said. “I mean, I miss Charlie. I always do when I’m away overnight, but—”

“It’s okay.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

He knew her well. He knew that having a good time without Charlie around was a struggle for her. She and her little boy were a pair, even when they couldn’t be together.

The float plane was a single engine two-seater that had been painted fuchsia. It belonged to the local flying club, which Julian had joined as soon as he’d matriculated at Cornell. He’d been taking flying lessons all through college, exchanging mechanical and maintenance labor for instruction, flight hours and fuel.

Before boarding, he went through a safety and readiness checklist with methodical precision. She knew the reckless boy was still inside him, the guy who jumped rows of barrels on a motorcycle and tackled the worst technical rock climbs without batting an eye. Now she watched that restless energy channel itself into intense focus and concentration.

She stood back on the dock, admiring the assured efficiency of his movements as he worked. Like a child’s toy, the moored plane bobbed in time to the lapping of the water. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said.

He flashed a smile that managed to be at once boyish and sexy. “I’ve always wanted to take you flying.” He loosened the mooring ropes, holding one in his hand.

“I feel like I already am,” she said, then flushed because that sounded so lame. Still, she could not help smiling. It was a magnificent day, the sky cloudless, the water flat and calm. The surrounding hills wore mantles of new green growth. Everything in sight seemed swollen with abundance, and anything seemed possible.

Daisy knew she would soon be telling him farewell for good, or at least for the foreseeable future. But how could she do that now, when he was taking her flying, for heaven’s sake? She didn’t let herself dwell on it. Instead, she focused on the undeniable splendor of this day and felt grateful to be spending it with Julian.

He jimmied the change in his pocket, seeming oddly nervous. “As a matter of fact, I was planning to—”

“Julian, the plane!” She jumped to the edge of the dock. “It’s getting away.”

Without hesitation, he leaped onto a pontoon, causing the small aircraft to bob wildly. He tossed her a rope. She grabbed it and pulled him back to the dock.

“Thanks,” he said, “I almost lost you before I even had you.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I had my head turned. It’s not like I get to spend every day with the girl of my dreams.”

“What did you call me?” Her heart was racing now.

“The girl of my dreams. It’s cheesy, I know, but that’s how I feel.”

There were many ways to think about what he’d said. She knew he meant it in the best possible way, but she parsed the words, a habit of hers.

Even the word girl. She hadn’t been a girl since the day she’d stared in horror at a home pregnancy test wand and realized her entire life was about to change. And being someone’s dream sounded all well and good, but in actual fact it turned her into a concept, an ideal, and she didn’t want that. She wanted him to know her on the most real level possible.

“Julian—”

“Ready?” he asked, unlocking the plane and flipping open the surprisingly flimsy door. “Climb aboard. I’ll load your stuff after.”

She felt a thrum of excitement in her chest. The interior of the plane was like that of a middling sports car. Vinyl bucket seats, regular seat belts. The view out the front, over the sloping nose of the plane, was certainly different, though. The lake rolled out before them, reflecting the endless sky.

Julian shoved off the dock and climbed into the cockpit. “Put on your headset. It’s going to get noisy in here.”

She gamely donned a bulky headset. “Roger that.” Her voice sounded tinny and artificial. “How do I look?”

“Like Princess Leia, with those big things on the sides of your head.”

He did some more checking of the panel and gauges, and spoke on another frequency to a tower somewhere.

The single engine started, sounding like a lawn mower motor. Daisy did not have a single reservation about his flying. She knew she was safe with him.

He slowly navigated the plane out of the marina, and the whine of the motor crescendoed to a powerful drone. The shoreline flickered past with ever-increasing speed, and then they were swept aloft with a breath-stealing lift of power. The treetops seemed close enough to touch, and the long curved finger of Lake Cayuga beckoned with flashes of silver reflecting the sun.

Daisy leaned back in her seat and laughed aloud. The day was glorious, and life was good.



To most of the world, “New York” meant Manhattan—gridlock traffic, skyscrapers, Times Square, the Statue of Liberty. The rest of the state got little attention. Most people would be surprised by the vast wilderness and variety of the landscape. The brilliant scenery rolled out before them. There were towering hills and river-fed forests, rock formations and cliffs and gorges. They soared over Cherry Ridge Wild Forest and the Catskills Wilderness, overshooting Willow Lake for a view of the famed Mohonk Mountain House, a historic resort. Daisy had gone there with her mom and brother one winter, when their mother was still in the midst of picking up the pieces of her life after divorce.

The thought of her parents’ divorce no longer felt like a fresh, bleeding wound to Daisy. She would always mourn the loss of her family, but if she was being completely honest with herself, even when all four Bellamys lived under one roof, they weren’t quite a family. From her earliest memory, there had been a deep chasm between her parents. She hadn’t understood it then, but she did now. As hard as it had been to accept, her mom and dad simply weren’t meant to be together, no matter how hard they tried.

The breakup had not been easy for either parent, but the rewards were uncountable. Her father had remarried first, turning Daisy’s best friend, Sonnet Romano, into her stepsister. Later, Daisy’s mother had settled in Avalon and joined a law firm. Against all expectations, she’d fallen in love with the local veterinarian and couldn’t be happier.

Daisy sighed with contentment and looked over at Julian. He must have felt her gaze because he turned, too. In high-tech aviator shades, he looked incredible, Top Gun in a pink golf shirt.

The plane swooped down over the Shawangunks, a rocky ridge gouged by deep fissures. This particular wilderness area marked a special time for them both.

“Remember?” he asked, indicating the dramatic striated rock formations above the river. A few rock climbers, looking like four-legged spiders, clung to the sheer faces. Julian had taken her climbing there the first summer they’d met. She had railed and resisted the climb with almost as much force as she had railed and resisted his friendship—at first.

At that time in her life, she had not allowed herself to trust anyone, and that included Julian, even though she was completely intrigued by him. Challenged by him to climb, she had balked, but he’d simply been patient, knowing even then that she would come around. He was the only person she’d ever met who recognized her appetite for adventure. When everyone else dismissed her as another overprivileged city girl destined for a life of shopping and lunch, Julian had challenged her to want more, to be more.

At the summit of the climb, lying exhausted in the powdery red dust, she had done something life-changing. She had taken out what became her last pack of illicit cigarettes and with Julian as witness, made a small fire and burned them all. She never smoked a cigarette again after that day.

It would have been nice if that special, healing day had somehow inoculated her against future bumps and bruises, but it was not to be. At summer’s end, she’d gone back to her senior year at prep school, where she’d managed to screw up a lot more.

A whole lot more.

Julian flew the plane over a waterfall at Deep Notch, where they’d gone ice climbing one winter, another place wrapped in memories of a day like no other. Ice climbing. Who but Julian would think it was a good idea to scale a wall of ice? And who but Julian could talk her into following him? So many of the things she’d done with him involved climbing and striving, embarking on dangerous pursuits, trying extreme sports. The funny thing about following Julian on impossible adventures was that she always seemed to succeed.

Getting to the top of the wall of ice had its own reward, but that was not what she remembered about that day. What she remembered was that, sitting at the frozen summit, shaking and sweating from the treacherous climb, she and Julian had finally shared their first kiss. Before that moment, she’d already known she loved him. What she had learned that day was that she would probably never stop.

“And how about this place?” he asked, his voice thready over the headset.

She wasn’t even going to pretend to be coy. “I remember every minute.”

“Me, too.” He headed for their destination—Willow Lake. From the sky, the small lakeside town of Avalon looked both familiar and crazily different, like something generated by computer animation, perhaps. The town square and lakefront park were dotted with people out enjoying the day. She spotted the Avalon Meadows Golf Course and Country Club, where she’d shot many a wedding, and the Inn at Willow Lake, owned and operated by her dad and stepmom.

She looked straight down at the cataract known as Meerskill Falls, draping a plunging gorge like a bride’s veil. At the top, almost indistinguishable, were hills and cliffs punctured by the famous ice caves, another place she and Julian had explored.

She was tense, thinking about the past, and so she shifted gears, aiming her thoughts to the present moment.

Finally, they came to the most familiar, most beloved landmark of all—Camp Kioga.

She reached over and touched Julian’s arm. “It’s so beautiful,” she said.

The gardens and sports courts were pristine. Window boxes with flowers in bloom decked the cabins, bungalows and bunkhouses clustered at the water’s edge. The grand pavilion dominated the landscape. A few kayaks were paddling around Spruce Island, a small green atoll crowned by a gazebo. A catboat skimmed by, its sail flying, offering a welcome glimpse of summer.

“Want to take the controls?” asked Julian.

“Are you kidding? Show me what to do.”

He had her grip the controls. “The key is to have a light touch. No sudden movements, don’t try to force anything.”

“Got it.” Very gently, she eased back and the plane climbed. She felt the way she imagined a kite would feel, or a bird with wings spread wide, riding the very air itself. I love this, she thought. I could do this forever.

“I’ll take over for landing,” Julian said after a while.

He guided the plane into a downward glide toward an isolated area of the lake designated for float planes. The touchdown was smooth and exhilarating, and within minutes, they were tied up at the dock.

Daisy put her arms around him and jumped up in another full body hug. It felt so good to be held by him. “That was magical,” she said. “Thank you so much.” Every nerve ending tingled as he set her down on the dock.

“What’s that face?” he asked, breaking in on her thoughts.

“What face? I don’t have a face.”

“Right.”

Her heart sped up. Time to speak up—that difficult conversation she’d imagined this morning hovered on the edge of her consciousness. This was her first opening. It might be her only chance before he was sent off to Timbuktu. She took a deep breath, and the words rushed out: “I love you, that’s what.”

He froze, staring at her.

She couldn’t believe what had come out of her mouth. It was supposed to be I can’t let myself love you, our lives are leading us too far apart, there can’t be any future for us. Instead, she’d spoken from a place where the stark truth dwelled, a truth she couldn’t escape, even though it defied common sense.

She wondered if the words had shocked him. She couldn’t read his expression, and that scared her. “I’ve never told you before,” she said. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out.” She’d really blown it now, deviating from the script that had seemed so sensible in her hotel room this morning.

Even though it felt as reckless as one of Julian’s stunts, she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m glad,” she rushed on foolishly. “I’m glad I said it, because I mean it. I’ve felt this way for a long time, forever and I keep waiting for it to go away, but the opposite is happening. It’s only getting worse.”

He still hadn’t said anything, and she still couldn’t make herself shut up. “I can’t stop thinking about you. When I went away to Germany, I expected to get over you. To get over everything. Instead, I ended up missing you so much it hurt. Seriously, it hurt like I’d been stabbed or something. And when I got back, I loved you just as much—no, more. It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t seem right, but—”

He strode forward with a look on his face she’d never seen before. It was as intense as rage but different. She still hadn’t figured it out when he caught her against him, stopping her with a kiss. A long, searching kiss that was tender but commanding, all-consuming, leaving her breathless. His lips were softer than she remembered, his taste sweeter. They had kissed before, but there was something different going on here, a peculiar emotion that grabbed at her heart with a special intensity. She curled her fists into his arms, feeling the rock-hard muscles shaped by relentless and rigorous training. He tasted like something wild, like raw honey, maybe, and in that moment she was so caught up that her ears rang.

A breakup wasn’t supposed to start with a kiss. Although technically, she wasn’t breaking up with him, because she’d never been … with him.

Finally he pulled back, but only far enough away to say, “I love you, too, Daze. I always have. I’m sorry I didn’t say it first.”

She felt dizzy, as if she were still flying. “I’m not sorry.” She sank against his chest, feeling exhausted, as if she’d run a mile. It was one of those flawless days on Willow Lake, the water perfectly still down to its mysterious depths, and the wind so quiet, she could hear both their hearts beating. Being here with him made her feel safe and protected, as if no harm could ever come to her.

They kissed some more, their mouths lazing and lingering like wordless promises. Daisy was filled with a soaring sense of liberation at having spoken her truth—and the stunning joy of knowing he returned her love. She wished the moment could last forever, but slowly, inevitably, he pulled back. Placing a tender kiss on her forehead, he whispered, “What time are you supposed to pick up Charlie?”

Charlie. Her beloved reality. “Logan’s flexible,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m not ready to share you yet,” he said, “not even with my favorite rug rat.”

Her thoughts flickered to the conversation she was supposed to be having with him. “Then I’m all yours for a while longer.”

“Good.” He took an insulated green bag out of the cargo bay. “I brought lunch.”

“Julian!”

He laughed. “I know, right? Romance at its finest.”

“Did you, like, look this up online, under �how to organize the perfect date?’”

“What, you don’t think I could’ve thought of this on my own?”

“The plane, yes. But a picnic?”

“Okay. I had help with that.”

“Help?”

“I kind of became a favorite of the dining hall ladies. They like guys who eat a lot.”

“Then they must be totally in love with you. I’ve seen you eat, Julian. It’s … epic.”

He set the bag in a skiff that was moored to the dock. Then he took her hand and helped her in.

“I assume you have permission to use the boat.”

“Ma’am, I’m an officer in the United States Air Force. Stealing is no longer an option.”

“You planned this.”

“Yeah. Didn’t want to leave anything to chance today.”

There was a feeling she always had around him, something she’d never found with any other person. It was a sense of complete and utter joy, mingled with freedom. There were many people she loved in her life, but no one she loved like this. A part of her wanted to explain it to him, to share that, but not now. One day, maybe.

The trouble with her and Julian was that “one day” for them was hard to pin down. Impossible, really. That was the conversation they needed to have. She didn’t want to say it and spoil this perfect day.

She shook off the thought and settled in the bow of the boat, facing backward. She didn’t know where they were headed. Didn’t really care. Bracing her arms behind her, she tipped back her head and shut her eyes to enjoy the soft warmth of the sun on her face.

“I feel like Cleopatra.”

“Yeah? That worries me. Romance didn’t really work out for her,” Julian pointed out.

“Did you say romance? Is that what you’re doing—romancing me?” Daisy sat up straight and watched him row. She was mesmerized by the powerful build of his shoulders, the easy extension of his muscles, reaching back and forth as he propelled the boat through the water.

“I’d like to think we’ve evolved since the days of Cleopatra. And I’d definitely like to think I don’t have her quirks.”

“Quirks?”

“Okay, her personality flaws.”

“You don’t have any flaws, Daisy.”

“Right.”

“Except maybe bad timing.”

She fell silent. Here was an opening, then. “Um, about that. My timing. Our timing. Julian, I meant what I said earlier. I love you. I always have, but I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Scared we’ll never get a chance to be together.”

His rhythmic strokes didn’t falter. “Never is a long time.”

“Just trying to be realistic.”

“Were you being realistic when you said you loved me?”

“I was being completely honest. I can’t help myself. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re going far away—”

“That’s temporary.”

“How temporary?”

“I can’t say.”

“I can. When you’re done in Colombia, they’ll send you someplace else.”

“Active duty doesn’t have to mean continual deployment. Air force families move from posting to posting. The system works. It just takes some planning.”

“That’s easy to say, but I have to think about Charlie.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “My little boy is my whole world.”

“I understand that. I know how hard it’s been for you, raising him alone.”

“Do you?”

“My friend Sayers once told me air force training is a tea party compared to being a single mom. She was raised by a single mom.”

“It’s hard, but … in a different way.” She wondered if the direction of the conversation had ruined this magical day. Julian was clearly in a romantic mood, and bringing up the topic of her son by another man might put a damper on things. But they should be able to talk about Charlie and not feel like the entire day was ruined.

“Charlie’s great,” said Julian. “I’m in love with the kid. Always have been.”

The statement caught her off guard. “You love him?”

“Sure. What, you don’t believe me?”

“I want to. But it’s just … you seem to hold back, when it comes to Charlie.”

“Kids latch onto people, and they hurt when those people go away.”

“Are you talking about Charlie, or are you talking about yourself, when you were a kid?”

He didn’t contradict her. “I know what it feels like to have a broken family. Charlie should never have to feel that. So I don’t want to give him mixed signals. When I was little, growing up with my dad, I used to want a mama so bad, I’d fantasize about every woman my dad even looked at—a bus driver, a grocery checker, the crossing guard—if she said even two words to him, I was ready for him to pop the question. And I was disappointed every time. You have to understand how much it hurts a kid to want a traditional family. How much hope he hangs on the slightest encouragement. So maybe I’ve been too careful about Charlie, but that’s my take on it.

I never wanted to make him a promise I couldn’t keep. That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “You never told me you loved him.”

“Daisy. He’s your son. He’s never asked for anything except to be loved. How can I not love that?”

Her heart turned to mush; she loved hearing him talk this way.

“He can’t help it if his father’s a douche—”

“Julian.” She knew he was still thinking of the fight on the train platform, the night everything had fallen apart. The fight had not caused the problem. The fight had been the culmination of the problem. The mushy part was over, clearly.

“I’d never say that in front of the kid, but come on. And honestly, no matter what I think of Logan, I’d never let on to Charlie. And I’d never want to interfere with that relationship. I had a great dad. He wasn’t perfect, but I thought the world of him. So yeah, I get that Logan has to be part of Charlie’s life. A big part.”

“I’m glad you understand. There are a few things in my life that are completely certain,” she reminded Julian. “The most important is my son. Every choice I make is dictated by what’s best for Charlie.”

“I understand.”

“Another constant is Logan. He is Charlie’s dad, which means he’ll always be part of my life, no matter what.”

“Is he still in love with you?”

She could still hear Logan’s voice in her ears, loud and clear. I’ll always love you, Daisy. I’ll wait as long as it takes.

She ducked her head to hide her expression, but apparently she wasn’t quick enough.

“I see,” said Julian.

“I don’t think you do. I can’t tell you what Logan is thinking. Persistence is his middle name. I swear, I don’t encourage him. You know that. I want … God, Julian. I want this to be simple. Why is it so hard?”

The rowboat bumped against the mooring bulkhead at the tiny island. Julian pulled a rope around a cleat. Then he extended a hand and helped her to the dock.

He sat on the weathered wooden planks and drew her down beside him. “Have a seat. This might take a while.”

“It might?”

“I’ve got a lot to say to you.”

Something in his tone made her shiver despite the heat. “I’m listening.”

He steepled his fingers together and stared into the lake for a long moment. The still water was a mirror of dark glass. “It’s not hard. I’m not saying I hold all the answers. God knows, I didn’t have much to go on when I was a kid. My dad was all about intellect and process and the scientific method. My mom was focused on her acting career, her image, herself. I’ve spent the past few weeks wondering if I even have the emotional hardware for the kind of relationship I want with you.”

She was stunned speechless to hear him talking like this. Maybe her silence was a good thing, because he was being more honest with her than he’d ever been before.

“And I wondered why danger and risk feel good to me. Maybe it’s because whenever I took a risk and put myself in danger, people paid attention, sometimes just to yell at me. Even Connor—the sole reason we had a relationship at all was that he had to take charge of me when I got into trouble. But you, Daisy. You’re the first person who didn’t pay attention to me because I was doing something dangerous. You paid attention because … hell, I don’t know, but I know it felt different. Everything about you is different, the way you look and smell, the way you feel in my arms.”

They weren’t even touching, yet Daisy had never felt closer to anyone than she did to Julian at this moment. She didn’t dare move or speak because she sensed this was hard for him and didn’t want him to stop.

“I was seventeen years old the first time I met you,” he said, still staring into their reflection in the water, “and I wish I’d paid more attention then to the way you made me feel. Maybe I would’ve had the sense to find a way to stay close to you, after we parted ways that summer, instead of watching you head off to a bad situation. When I found out you were pregnant, I thought it was a sign that you’d taken another path. A path that didn’t include me. And all through college, I guess I felt like I had to prove myself to you. You know, the beautiful rich girl. And any way you cut it, I’m from the wrong side of the tracks. It’s ridiculous to think about me and a Bellamy, for Chrissake. I didn’t see how you and I would ever connect. We come from totally different worlds.”

She held her breath. Was he saying they were incompatible, that love wasn’t enough? “Julian—”

“Hang on, I’m getting to the point. Where we come from doesn’t have to matter. I’m not going to worry about what other people will say, the color of our skin and what our kids might look like. What matters is … it’s us. Our hopes and dreams and what we want our lives to be.”

He kissed her swiftly, his warm lips lingering against hers, his breath gusting over her cheek. “Whew,” he said. “That’s, like, the longest speech I’ve ever given. Sorry if I rambled.”

She could listen to him talk like that forever. “You didn’t ramble.”

“I’ve been practicing what I wanted to say. In my head. God, don’t think I was walking around campus, spouting stuff about hopes and dreams. But I meant every word.” With that, he got up and grabbed the picnic bag, bringing it to the steps of the gazebo, built some years ago for her grandparents’ golden anniversary. She followed, still entranced by the things he’d said. There was no one around. The gazebo was broadcasting music from somewhere. She recognized the old classic, “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton.

“Whoa,” she said. “Is someone here?”

“We are now.” Julian set down the bag. Turning to face her, he paused for what felt like a full minute and studied her face. She did the same, seeing love and pain in the yearning in his eyes.

“Thanks for coming here with me,” he said at last, bending down to kiss her again.

“Thanks for bringing me,” she said, feeling drunk from the taste of him. “It’s been an awesome day.”

“We’re just getting started.” He took out a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

When he uncorked the champagne with a loud thwok, Daisy felt a surge of excitement. “Julian?”

“Hang on,” he said, putting his arm around her. “You okay?”

“I’m kind of shaking.” The Eric Clapton song was perfect, romantic and true. He was a guy from an older generation, but his music told the stories in her own heart.

She didn’t drink the champagne. She was too nervous; she might upchuck on herself and ruin everything.

“I wanted to say this here because I know it’s a special place to you.”

She nodded. “Sacred ground. To the Bellamy family, anyway.”

“I’m glad I got to meet your grandparents on their fiftieth anniversary. I’d never met anyone who’d been married that long.”

It had been the most special of days, not only for her grandparents but for all the Bellamys. Daisy had been in enormous emotional pain that summer, yet she could still appreciate the wonder of a love that had endured for half a century.

“It gave me hope,” she said.

“It gave me a dream.” He took both her hands in his and turned to face her. “I want what they have, Daisy. I was a kid back then, we both were. We’re adults now, and the dream hasn’t changed, not for me anyway. It’s only grown stronger.”

His kiss was gentle, searching, full of yearning. She felt so emotional, she thought she might fly into a million pieces.

“All those places we flew over today,” he said, “they mean something to me because of what we shared there.”

“They’re special to me, too,” she said, her throat aching with the words.

He nodded, swallowed hard, as if gathering his thoughts. “I have to go away soon. I have a job to do, a duty … it’s what I signed up for. Life is unpredictable, so I have to do this while I have the chance.”

“Do what?” Somewhere in her heart she knew already, and her pulse raced almost out of control.

“My service in the air force is not forever. I’m saving �forever’ for you, Daisy. I don’t want to live my life without you.”

With that, he sank down on one knee before her.

Everything stopped. Time, breath, reality, the world on its axis. Even the wind seemed to quiet. She could feel the sweet air on her skin, and birdsong rang in her ears, mingling with the music from the hidden speakers. At the center of it all was Julian, looking at her with love shining from the deepest part of him.

She wanted to say something, she didn’t know what, but her voice felt trapped, frozen in her throat. She wasn’t able to utter a sound, which was probably a good thing, because for some inexplicable reason, she hovered on the verge of tears. She couldn’t believe this moment was happening to her.

“Daisy Bellamy, I’ve loved you since our first summer at Willow Lake,” he said. “I swear, I’ll never stop. Will you marry me?”

Though this was something she’d dreamed of, fantasized about, hoped for in a secret place in her heart, she was unprepared for the emotion that jolted through her, almost violent in its intensity. Will you marry me?

Her thoughts reeled. She knew she should think about all the reasons she couldn’t be with him, the dangers and drawbacks of giving herself and her young son to a man like Julian. Charlie needed security and stability. She needed … she needed … The tears fell and her heart spoke before her brain could object. “I would love to marry you, Julian Gastineaux. With all my heart, I would love it.”

He laughed aloud and took a ring from his pocket, a simple diamond solitaire on a slender gold band. “They knew your size at Palmquist’s,” he said, slipping in on her finger.

For a split second, she flashed on a memory of Logan’s Christmas Eve proposal, that humiliating night she could never quite get out of her head. Logan had gone to the same jeweler.

“It’s perfect,” she said, distancing herself from that memory. “It fits perfectly.”

“Really?” He stood and picked her up with him, as though she were as light as air.

“Really,” she said, kissing him and brimming over with a happiness so intense, it felt like a kind of pain.

He set her down, and they held each other for a long time. She pressed her cheek to his chest and listened to the throb of his heart. The past few minutes had changed her life. She was going to marry this man. It was unbelievable.

“I didn’t know I’d be asking you today. I’ve been waiting for the right time. When you told me you loved me, I figured it was a sign.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the powerful throb of his heart. This was not the conversation she thought they would be having today. This was … a dream come true. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“I know what I’m asking, because of my job,” he said. “But I also know we’re going to make this work, I swear.”

“Yes,” she said and kissed him again, feeling giddy with elation.

She set her camera on timer and leapt into the frame with him, eager to mark this precious, precious day with a picture together. The viewfinder showed them on the dock with their arms around each other, the late-afternoon sun suffusing the scene with a golden glow. In her professional life, Daisy had taken many photos that were technically superior and more sophisticated than this shot. But never, ever had she captured a more joyous moment.

A sense of wonder held the world at bay and kept reality from intruding. For now, she savored the sweetness of knowing their love had a future. How could a feeling this powerful be wrong? It was a palpable thing. Nothing could stand in their way.




Seven







Daisy sat for a moment in Logan’s driveway, collecting her thoughts. Only yesterday when she’d dropped off Charlie, she never could have imagined this moment. Julian wanted to marry her. She’d said yes. So simple. She knew it wasn’t, but she had to believe they could make it happen.

She flexed her left hand on the steering wheel. The brand-new diamond glinted in the sun. Surreal.




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