Chapter 57
Daisy
"Mommy?"
Don't call me that.
I refused to turn when I heard the tiny voice a distance away.
"Mommy, I'm home," Lydia called to me from downstairs. I flinched every time I heard her voice, closing my eyes and retreating further into myself.
"Let's go find Mommy. She could use a pickup. She's been sad lately." Max's voice was grating. I covered my ears, but it didn't drown them out.
"Why is Mommy sad?"
"Because she's missed you so very much, Lydia. But you're home now, and you're not going anywhere anymore."
"Really?"
I stood and abandoned the window I'd been staring out and forced a smile just as the two of them entered the library.
"Mommy!" Lydia ran to me, her little toddler arms outstretched. I crouched to allow her to hug me. I wrapped my arms around her, but there was no emotion behind the embrace.
"How have you been, Lydia?" I asked as I let her go and, as politely as I could, stepped backward, out of her reach.
"Good." She put her hands behind her back and swung her little body back and forth. "Daddy says I'm going to a new school soon. I live here now.”
"I heard. How exciting." I looked toward Max. "Where is Jordan?"
Jordan was Lydia's nanny. Max paid her to travel with her and take care of her full time. She'd been with Lydia since she was born.
"Jordan is no longer employed with us. I think it's time Lydia bonds with you. Don't you think?" His lips were curved into a smile, but his eyes were cold, challenging me to say something in front of her.
"I think the relationship we have now is fine," I lied. The guilt of how I regarded the little girl ached constantly, but I couldn’t change how I felt. Her presence in my life was an eternal reminder of what I'd lost when Gatsby left me.
"Really? A daughter not knowing her mother is fine? Daisy, come on. Hasn't it been long enough? This game we're playing."
"There isn't any game, Max." I turned away, returning to the window. I looked down at the dock, where the green light used to be. I'd managed to catch it when it went out, and it felt apt to what I felt in my heart.
Just like the dock, my green light was gone.
"What are your plans today? I want you to spend the day with Lydia."
I turned back, shaking my head. "Tuth is picking me up soon. I have to be at the Theater. Dress rehearsal."
"Oh? Well, before you go, I have some paperwork I need your signature on. Stop by my office before you leave. Actually, Lydia and I might join you." He went to her, taking her tiny hand in his. "What do you say, you want to go watch Mommy dance? Maybe we can get you some tutus too, and she can teach you to dance like her."
"Yes, yes, yes!" Lydia squealed and pulled Max out of the room. He stopped by the door to point at me.
"Don't forget those papers."
Later, with my gym bag over my shoulder, I stopped by Max's home office. Lydia was lying on the carpet, coloring. She barely looked up as I came in. Max was constantly trying to push us on each other, but I think she, as young as she was, had a similar regard. She didn't know why, of course, but I think deep down, she knew we'd never have the relationship Max wanted us to have.
"What did you need me to sign?" I asked, looking back at the door.
"Here, sign and date these." He handed me a thin packet.
I scanned it quickly.
"A restraining order? Max, I'm not signing this." I tossed it back on his desk. "That's absurd."
"It's the only way to get him to leave our family alone. He's already out of jail, somehow. But now I can't trust him not to harass you at the Theater. We need to do this."
"We don't have to do anything." I backed away. "I'm not agreeing to that. He's been through enough. I have to go."
"Daisy, if you don't sign these papers?—"
"What? You'll ruin me? Go for it, Max. There's not much else you can do. I'm already your caged bird."
I went to the Theater, still in disbelief that he'd asked me to sign a restraining order for Gatsby. All of what he'd claimed was a lie. Gatsby had never hurt me. It was me who continued to hurt him.
My heart was beating hard and fast as we pulled up to the Theater. I hadn't been back since that night. We'd had all our rehearsals at the studio, but now that it was getting closer to opening night, we had to start dancing on the stage. My hands were clammy, and I was sweating through my clothes as I walked in and looked around. Everything was just as it was. My fellow dancers were filing in around me, laughing and chatting. Feeling as if I'd accidentally let slip what I'd done, I rushed to my dressing room and threw open the door and turned the light on.
It was just as it had been before that night. The smell of sweet pea filled my nose.
No cleaner.
I stepped inside and closed the door. I examined every inch, looking for blood or hair or other evidence of my crime, but there was nothing. It wasn't even overly clean. Gatsby had somehow managed to cover up what I'd done to a scary level.
While I was slightly more comfortable that my secret would remain that way for now, I was still on edge. Max hadn't invited himself and Lydia because he wanted to watch me dance. He'd wanted to make sure I didn't speak to Gatsby.
Max had my phone turned off, and his threats were enough to keep me complacent for now. I couldn't leave until I had a plan.
I needed to talk to Gatsby.
I dressed and went out with the other dancers to run through the show. There was a shadowy figure above us in the balcony. I recognized the form in an instant.
He'd come.
My hope soared but was dashed an instant later when Max came into the room, Lydia in tow. They sat in the seats and I quickly masked my emotions, burying everything deep down. My mind went to autopilot while I danced, and only when we were finished and heading to change, did it turn back on.
I spotted Max backstage and stiffened. I looked around, searching for Gatsby. Was he still watching? I prepared for Max to come over, but he waved to someone else. Relief washed over me until I saw a man go to him. Max put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. My curiosity and nervousness sent my legs forward, going to them.
"Hello," I greeted the small group. Max and the man turned. The man looked... rough. He hadn't shaved in days, his hair was unbrushed and his eyes bloodshot.
"Daisy," Max greeted. "Clarke, this is my fiancée. Daisy, I want you to meet Clarke."
The upset man shook my hand.
“Hi.” The man sniffled. "I'm?—"
"Clarke is Lilly's husband. He works here."
The rock that had been lifted from my stomach with the clean dressing room dropped fast and hard back into my belly so quickly I lost my breath.
"Lilly?"
"Yes, she's—she's missing, you know, going on a month now." Clarke's eyes began to water. I pursed my lips and nodded.
"We heard. I am so sorry. Have there been any leads?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. The police don't want to help, so I'm putting up flyers. It's hard because I'm the only one looking for her, but I need all the overtime here I can get to pay for a private detective. Something ain't right. Lilly wouldn't just run off without telling me."
I stood there, listening to a desperate, heartbroken, scared man talking about his wife's disappearance, knowing that with just three words, I could stop his pain and let him begin healing .
I did it.
I killed her.
I bit my tongue. I wanted to confess, but also, the need to preserve my own life overrode that want to put an end to this man's suffering.
"Yes, we know Lilly. I believe Daisy and Lilly are friends, aren't you two?" Max interrupted my thoughts.
I forced myself to nod.
"Yes, we... shared a lot of things in common."
"You know what, Clarke?" Max returned to the crying man, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we pay for the detective? It's the least we can do to help find Lilly."
"You would do that?" Clarke looked at him as if Max owned the world, and he was giving him a piece of it. Max smiled smugly and put his whole arm around him, leading him away.
"Of course. Call me suspicious, but I have some theories of my own as to where she's gone. Why don't you come over to my house for a drink? We can discuss the details there."