Daisy
twelve
(Then)
We’re living and working at a ranch in Alberta when our one-year anniversary comes around. Somehow, Beau gets us off early from work, and we borrow a truck so we can drive into town and stroll Banff Avenue.
“My God,” I say as we wander past the boutique shop fronts and bustling eateries lining the parade to white-capped Cascade Mountain.
It hasn’t snowed in a few days, so the streets are easy to walk, but I’m still wearing my winter jacket and boots.
“This place is so pretty. Why don’t we spend more time here? ”
Beau tightens his fingers around mine and pulls me against his side. “Because it’s fucking freezing,” he grumbles.
I laugh and snuggle in against him as we walk. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”
We spend an hour looking in shop windows and sipping on to-go cups of hot cocoa.
When sunset paints the horizon with broad strokes of pink and gold, we buy cheese and bread and wine.
Then we drive out of town, escaping the artificial lighting via the Lake Minnewanka Loop and pulling into an almost-empty parking lot to enjoy the stars.
Soon, we’re swathed in blankets in the truck bed, a half-empty bottle of red between us and breadcrumbs lining the covers, staring up at a sky that goes on forever. My head rests on Beau’s chest, his arm wrapped around me, and I’ve never felt so happy.
A little way up the lot, giggles reach us, followed by a sigh that’s nearly a moan, and then silence.
“I’m sorry it’s not just us,” Beau says. “I thought this would be romantic.”
“It is,” I assure him, “and I kind of like that we’re not alone. It’s nice to know there are people in love everywhere. Like there are little pockets of happiness all over the place. It makes me feel more hopeful about the world.”
His embrace tightens, and he drops a kiss on the top of my head. “There’s nobody like you, Daisy Darlin’. Don’t ever change.”
I hum contentedly and wriggle closer. We stargaze for a while, the silence wrapping around us like another blanket, until my mind wanders as it always does when there’s nothing between me and the night sky.
“My mom loved the stars,” I murmur, my breath forming a cloud in front of my face. “She taught me all the constellations.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you recognize any now?”
“Maybe. It’s been a while.” I scan the stars for patterns. “Oh! There’s Orion the Hunter,” I say, pointing to a collection of brighter stars. “Those three in a line? That’s his belt.”
“I think I see it,” Beau says.
“That’s Taurus and Canis Major right by Orion. And over there is Cancer the Crab.”
“Will you tell me about her?”
At first, I think he means the astrological sign, but a moment later, I realize he means my mom.
He asks like I might say no, probably because I’ve done my best to avoid the subject until now.
But something about the stars makes me feel closer to her, almost like she might be listening, and I can’t stand the thought of breaking her heart.
That’s surely what would happen if she knew a boy I loved wanted to know her and I said no.
“You don’t have to—” Beau starts to say, but I cut him off.
“She was blonde, like me,” I tell him, feeling both lighter and sadder as faded memories float through my head.
“But her hair was poker straight, not wavy like mine, and her eyes were the color of caramel, like my brother Finn. She was a real spirit even when she was alive, if that makes sense. She was an artist—a painter, a musician, a poet. And she loved to be outside. Our family camped every weekend in the summer, and we’d lay like this under the stars, naming constellations and telling stories. ”
“She sounds special.”
“She was.” My throat feels tight, but I keep talking. “She ran the trail rides on our ranch, and we rode together every chance we got. All us kids spent time with the horses, but Mom and I loved them the most.”
“Who takes care of the horses now?”
I clear away the guilt and regret rising in my throat. “There are none. There’s not enough money to keep them and nobody at home to take care of them.”
“But your brothers and sister—”
“The horses were Mom’s thing,” I say a little too sharply. “Mom’s and mine.”
Beau strokes the hair from my face. “We could visit them, you know. Spend some time in California. And I’d love to meet your family one day.”
His words trigger a rush of panic. Even though Beau and I have been together for a year, I haven’t told my brothers or sister about him.
It’s easier to keep what I feel for Beau separated from the baggage attached to Silver Leaf.
The Daisy who grew up on that ranch was all hopeful innocence.
The eighteen-year-old who left was broken by grief.
The woman I am now is happy. The idea of trying to marry all the versions of me puts knots in my stomach.
“One day,” I say with a smile I hope he believes.
His brows draw in. “Family’s important—if you have one. I don’t want you to miss out on that part of your life because of me.”
The subtext is clear. Beau talks about his family less than I talk about mine, but I understand what he’s trying to say.
His mother never did much to warrant the title, and his father has a sixth sense for showing up the moment Beau has cash in the bank.
I’ve seen it myself. The random calls to guilt Beau into handing over his savings, which his dad says he needs in order to care for Beau’s mom, a woman who never picks up the phone at all.
Beau’s family and mine couldn’t be more different, and yet here we are, trying to build something that means we never have to go back to either one.
“It’s not because of you,” I say. “I’d go home if I wanted to, but I don’t. Not now.”
“Okay, Darlin’.” His arms are warm and certain around me. A safe place. And the panic I felt at the suggestion of going home starts to ebb away. “We’ll do it your way.”
“Thank you,” I whisper right before a bright spot of light falls from the sky.
My fingers tighten in his shirt. “Did you see that?”
He laughs in disbelief. “Yep.”
“So pretty,” I say with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll never get used to seeing a falling star.”
“Did you make a wish?”
I pause. “Huh. No.” I turn my head, seeking his lips with my own. “I guess I already have everything I could ever want.”
He kisses me, and I close my eyes, savoring the taste of him and the heat of his body, matched perfectly to the cold snap in the air and the cherry pinot noir that lingers on my tongue.
“Mmm.” Beau’s thumb brushes my arm as he opens his eyes. “I wish I could give you more than wine from the bottle and a sky we have to share with strangers.”
I hate it when he does this. It’s not all the time, and it’s not always so pointed, but it’s often enough that I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever convince him of his worth.
I turn my face into his shirt and inhale the scent of him. “I just want you.”
He’s quiet so long that I turn toward the stars again, both of us staring up into the arching nothingness.
“You know what’s funny?” I ask. “The sky is so big, and the stars are so overwhelming, that the longer we’re here, the smaller I feel—and I like it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I smile to myself. “It’s like there’s an infinite number of possible lives out there waiting for us. All we have to do is choose one. That’s a hopeful way to look at things, don’t you think?”
“I guess it is.” He pauses. “So if you had to choose one of those lives right now, which one would you take?”
“Easy.” I snuggle in closer, and Beau sweeps the corner of another blanket over us, adding an extra layer to our cotton cocoon. “I’d choose this one. Working with you. Traveling with you. Snuggling under the stars with you.”
“In the back of a borrowed truck?” he asks.
I ignore the hint of self-derision. “Why not?”
Beau takes a deep breath, then shifts a little as he dips a hand into the pocket of his jeans.
“Happy anniversary, Darlin’,” he says, opening his palm to reveal a fine silver chain strung with glinting little daisies.
I gasp and sit up, lifting the bracelet from his hand and holding it high to admire its detail. “Where did you get this?”
“A secondhand store in Banff, so it’s not brand new, but the sales assistant managed to get the shine real nice.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “Here. Help me put it on?”
Beau’s thick fingers make quick work of the clasp, and soon, the jewelry dangles from my wrist. I can’t stop looking at it. “But… we agreed on no gifts. The money—”
“I had a little extra saved,” he cuts in. “I didn’t use anything we’ve set aside for the flights to Jackson Hole.”
“I didn’t think you had,” I tell him gently.
“But you’re right. I’ll never be able to give you expensive things.” He touches the bracelet thoughtfully. “No diamonds. No California ranches.”
“You know I don’t care about that.” I glance at his gift, suddenly annoyed, and I get to my knees as I try to unclasp it. “And I don’t need this if you’re going to be weird about it.”
He rises as well, so he can stop my clumsy fiddling with a hand over mine. “Don’t you dare.”
I scowl. “All right, fine. I’ll keep it. But on one condition.”
“Oh, yeah?” His mouth tips up with amusement. “I didn’t know this would turn into a negotiation.”
“It’s not. It’s an order.” I hold up my arm and count the charms. “Seven daisies? Seven promises for the life we want to make together. Let’s lock this in now so there’s no more confusion about what we want our life to be.”
He eases back on his heels, his expression as amused as it is adoring, and I do the same.
“All right.” He takes my wrist in his hand and taps the first flower. “Promise number one: we spend every cent we make. We work to fund our next adventure. Money will never define us.”
My pulse leaps, and I grin. “Agreed. Promise number two: our pasts won’t define our futures. Where we came from doesn’t matter. What we left behind doesn’t matter. Tomorrow belongs to you and me.”
He cups my face and pulls me in for a kiss, then nudges the next daisy. “Promise number three: you never give up that temper.”
I gasp. “I don’t have a temper!”
His grin stretches wide. “Yeah. You do. And that fire is mine, got it?”
I lift my nose into the frigid air. “Fine. Promise number four: when I’m sick, you’ll always be there with a cold washcloth and Coke.”
He looks at me like that was already a given.
“Always,” he says. “Promise number five: no matter what kind of day we’ve had, we always sleep in the same bed.
We can go to sleep angry, just not one without the other.
” His eyes grow intense. “I’ll always hold you, Darlin’.
If you want them, these arms are yours. No matter what. ”
“I like that,” I say softly, emotion making my voice catch, and the closer we get to the end, the bigger my heart swells. “Promise number six: this life is a choice. Life will get hard, and some days will be harder than others, but in the end, we’ll make it if we choose us.”
“Every time.” Beau swallows hard. “And promise number seven: you’ll always be my north star. My direction and my reason for everything. I’ll follow you anywhere, Darlin’, because there’ll never be anyone for me but you.”
I blink away tears and thread my fingers into his dark hair. I don’t care about the infinite possible lives mapped out for me in the sky. I’ll choose this man every time. “Never.”
Beau takes my face in his hands and kisses me slowly, tongue stroking and lips soft, and my blood starts to warm.
“Do you want to go back to the ranch?” His voice is low and husky, his mouth tipped up at the corner. The imperfectly perfect gap between his teeth winks in and out of sight, making my stomach flip.
“Yes,” I say, imagining a night—a lifetime—with him tangled up in our sheets, and desire makes me shiver. “Yes, I really do.”