Chapter 19 Daisy
Nineteen
Daisy
out of bed in my pajamas, then tiptoe down the stairs toward the front door, determined to follow Georgia and confront her.
Eden was gone yesterday for her camping trip and won’t be back until later this morning, just in time for the Fourth of July
festival. But I haven’t had a chance to really talk to Georgia since Rhys showed up on Thursday. I need to tell her I’m sorry.
For blurting out their business to the rest of the family. But also for not telling her what I knew sooner.
I’m assuming she’s going to get into her car and drive off—and I plan to stop her. I want to know where she’s been going.
I hope I’m not too late.
But as I step outside, I watch Georgia walk right past her car, and past the driveway completely.
I follow her.
She’s walking toward the trees at the edge of our yard, the wooden steps to the path.
I find her sitting at the little rocky outcropping of our own private snippet of lakeshore. The other spot where she and I
used to splash around while Dad fished. Sometimes Mom would come out here, too, and perch on a rock with a book in one hand.
“Hey.”
She looks up, and I take in her face. She’s one of the prettiest people I know, but I haven’t really studied her face in a
long time. Her nose is a little pink from too much sun and starting to peel. There are pale lavender shadows under her eyes
from not sleeping. She still looks beautiful—but also changed somehow.
“What are you doing awake this early?” she asks.
“Stalking you,” I admit.
She snorts.
“What are you doing up so early? You don’t have to work today. You could sleep in.”
She picks up a stick and starts playing with it, scraping it around on the rock beside her. “We both know I don’t sleep in.”
“That’s true. But you’ve been sneaking out in the mornings.”
“Yeah? And what else do you know?” she says, suddenly very consumed with her stick.
Guilt roils in my guts. “Mateo hinted to me that something might be going on between you and Rhys. Or that Rhys might be thinking about cheating. Or about breaking up with you. Or . . . or both. I’m sorry, Georgia.
I should have said something right away.
I tried to, actually. But you were already being so distant. You’re never around.”
“It’s okay, Daisy.”
“It is?”
“You’re right. I really haven’t been around much. I’ve been . . . preoccupied.”
“Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do?” I ask, sitting down beside her, filled with relief that she doesn’t seem
angry with me.
“No, everything is not okay,” she says, with a kind of forlorn heaviness I haven’t heard in her in a long time. “But,” she
adds, “it will be. Eventually.”
“Are you not okay because of you and Rhys? Because maybe you two should talk again. Maybe you can still work things out. Maybe—”
She shakes her head. “No. Rhys and I are not getting back together. It’s not about that, not really. It’s about me.”
“What about you?” I ask, suddenly worried. “You’re not, like, dying of some terrible disease, right?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just . . . You know what’s nuts?”
“What?”
“I think I might be processing Dad’s death for the first time.”
This is not what I was expecting her to say. “For the first time? It’s been three years.”
“Being up here at the lake . . . I don’t know. It’s unleashed something. I think I was holding it all together. For you. For Mom.” Her voice breaks a little.
I wrap an arm around her. “You don’t always have to be strong for us. We’re strong too, you know.”
She laughs and sniffles at the same time. “I just can’t believe Mom is ready to move on.”
I sigh, looking out at the water. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think of it as her moving on. I think you can carry grief
and love at the same time. Don’t you?”
She turns to look at me. “Since when did you get so wise?”
I shrug. “I guess I’ve been busy this summer too.”
She laughs. “You really have. Are you and Mateo . . . ?”
I shake my head. “Not anymore.”
She nods. “I never thought that was a good idea. I tried to warn you.”
“If you say I told you so, I’m going to shove you in the lake,” I tell her.
She puts up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Just let me make my own mistakes, okay, Georgia? And you can focus on your own.”
She cracks a smile. “Oh, I have.”
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t.
After a minute of silence, I squeeze her again in a side hug.
“When you’re ready, you should probably talk to Mom.
She’s upset about you storming off Thursday night.
She’s worried you really hate Dave, that you think he’s some devilish aquatic expert.
” Georgia sniffle-laughs a little at this.
“But seriously. I don’t think she’d even go through with marrying him without your approval. ”
Georgia shakes her head. “She doesn’t need my approval. I’m not the parent.”
“Could’ve fooled us,” I say, standing up and brushing off my pajama shorts.
“Where are you going?” She turns and squints up at me, and for a moment, I see this rare glimpse of vulnerability. This loneliness
in her voice, and I have the craziest thought that maybe, just maybe, Georgia needs me. And it makes my heart swell.
“Back to bed, of course. It’s way too early for us regular humans to be awake.”
She laughs. “Okay. Sweet dreams.”
“You coming back in?”
“Nah. I’m gonna sit out here a little longer.”
“All right.” I walk up the path toward the house, but turn to look over my shoulder one last time. With her back to me, facing
the water, Georgia looks a little bit like Mom.
When the doorbell rings a few hours later, I have to forcefully pull myself out of the thickness of dreams. At first, I think
it must be Eden, returning from her camping trip. But then I realize she wouldn’t bother with the doorbell. I sit up, rubbing
my eyes, and hear someone downstairs opening the door. Then I hear a low male voice.
It must be Rhys. Coming over to talk to Georgia.
Maybe he thinks there’s still a chance to make amends.
I yawn and stretch and flop backward onto my pillow again, prepared to drift off for one more hour before I start the day.
The festival doesn’t really get going until around noon, then it goes all day with celebrations in the town center that last into the evening, ending with music and fireworks over the lake.
Lots of people go out in their boats to watch the fireworks from the water, but since we don’t have a boat, we usually just go to the public beach, which is always crowded with picnic blankets.
I’m lying there thinking about what sweet snacks I want to buy, what carnival games I want to play, when there’s a knock on
my bedroom door.
“Daisy?” Mom calls. “Are you awake? Someone’s here for you.”
I sit up again with a sudden pang of dread. I thought I heard Rhys’s voice downstairs, but what if it’s Mateo? Coming over
here to—what—try to make up with me? Would he care enough to do that? What would I say? I contemplate pretending to be sick
and hiding under the covers. I’ve managed to avoid him at the club, but if I had my wish, he’d just leave Laurel Lake for
the rest of the summer. Rhys is barely ever here, and without me to entertain him, won’t he be bored? Or will he just glom
on to some other girl—some cool, carefree older girl who doesn’t get emotionally attached after less than two weeks of making
out?
Ugh. I’m spiraling.
Which is why it’s even harder to comprehend what’s happening when Mom cracks open my door and pokes her head in, saying, “Oh
good, you are awake.” Then she pushes the door open the rest of the way, and reveals . . .
“Owen?!” I blink, wondering if I’m still in a dream.
His hands are shoved in his pockets, but he pulls one out to brush his long hair out of his eyes. “I know I left kind of early,
but I thought you’d be dressed and eating Pop-Tarts by now.”
I leap out of bed and give him a huge hug. He hugs me back, and I’m suddenly aware that I’m just wearing a thin sleep shirt
over my pj shorts. Not that I should care—it’s just Owen. Right?
I pull back. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you in Europe?”
He looks down at his body. “Apparently I’m not.”
I laugh.
“I got back last night.”
“Wait, you got back last night to Rhode Island? And now you’re here?”
He shrugs. “Nothing to do at home without you there.”
“Seriously?” I scan his face. This seems untrue—Owen always has things to do. Projects he invents for himself. The guy could
keep himself occupied in a bunker in a zombie apocalypse, probably designing and testing zombie-trapping devices.
He shrugs. “Also, I got your postcards. And letters. And it kind of seemed like you were having a shit time. So, I figured
I’d come cheer you up.”
I have to admit, seeing him is cheering me up—it’s an instant boost to my mood.
Though alongside the excitement that he’s here, there’s this nervous flutter in my chest, and I can’t stop thinking: We kissed. We kissed. We kissed.
Now what?
I clear my throat. “But how did you get here?”
“I drove.”
I go to the window and see Owen’s dad’s car in the driveway.
“Your dad let you borrow his car?” I ask, incredulous.
Owen twists his mouth. “Not exactly.”
I run over to Owen and swat him in the chest. “You took your dad’s car without asking?! On your first day back?!”
He laughs. “Stop! Don’t hit me! I did nothing to you!”
“Your parents are going to be so worried! This is so typical of you.” Normally I would be worried he’s going to get in trouble—his parents try to be understanding with him, but
they have their limits. This time, though, I have to admit I’m glad he “pulled an Owen.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here right
now in my bedroom. . . .
We kissed. We kissed. We kissed. Now what?
“Yeah, well, it’s worth it. Besides, I wanted to see what this Fourth of July celebration was all about. You’ve told me about
it like a million times. Figured I should check it out for myself.”