Daisy's back in town

Chapter Two

Daisy blew into the mug of hot coffee as she raised it to her lips. The sun had yet to rise, and her mother wasstill asleep in her bedroom down the hail. Besides updated appliances, little had changed in her mother'skitchen. The counter tops and floor tiles were the same matching blue, and the same Texas bluebells werepainted on the white cabinets.

As quiet as possible Daisy slipped into her raincoat, hung by the back door the night before. She threaded onearm then the other through the slicker until it covered her short pajamas. She crammed her feet into her mother'sgarden clogs, then she slipped outside into the deep shadows of early morning. Cool air touched her face andbare legs, and a slight breeze pulled several strands of hair from the claw at the back of her head. The Texas airfilled her lungs and brought a smile to her lips. She didn't know why, or how to explain it, but the air wasdifferent here. It just seemed to settle in her chest and radiate outward. It whispered across her skin andanswered a hidden longing she hadn't even known rested deep in her soul.

She was home. If only for a short time.

For fifteen years she'd lived in the Seattle, Washington, area. She'd grown to love it there. She loved the richgreen landscape, the mountains, the bay. Snow skiing. Water skiing. The Mariners. So many things.

But Daisy Lee was a Texan. In her heart and in her blood. In her DNA, likelier blond hair. Likelier birthmark inthe shape of a little love bite on the top of her left breast. And like her love bite, Lovett hadn't changed in thepast fifteen years. The population had grown by several hundred; there were a few new businesses and one newgrade school. The town had recently added an eighteen-hole golf course and a country club to its landscape, butunlike the rest of the country, and more urban Texas, Lovett still moved at its own laid-back pace.

Daisy gazed into the shadows of her mother's backyard. The outline of the five-foot windmill, an Annie Oakleystatue, and a dozen or so flamingos were etched in black. Growing up, her mother's taste in exterior decor hadbeen a constant source of embarrassment for her and her younger sister, Lily. Now the parade of flamingosbrought a smile to her lips.

She took a drink of coffee, then she sat on the top concrete step next to a stone armadillo with several babiesstacked on its back. Daisy hadn't slept well the night before. Her eyes felt puffy and her mind sluggish. Sheshivered and set the mug on her knee. Before she'd seen Jack last night, her plan had been so clear. She'd cometo Lovett, intending to visit with her mother and sister for a few days, then talk to Jack and tell him aboutNathan. All within twelve days. Which, until last night, she'd figured would be plenty of time.

She'd known it would be difficult, but clear-cut. She and Steven had talked about it before he'd passed. In herpocket, she still had the letter Steven had written before he'd lost the ability to read and write. When he'daccepted that he would die, that there would be no cure for him, no more experimental drugs to take, no moreradical surgeries to try, he'd wanted to make things right with the people he'd felt he'd wronged in his life. Oneof those people was Jack. At first he'd thought to send the letter, but the more the two of them talked about it,the more they'd concluded that it should be delivered in person. By her. Because ultimately, she was the onewho had to deal with Jack Parrish, and she was the one who'd wronged him most.

They'd never really meant to keep Nathan a secret from him. Her mother knew. So did her sister. Nathan knewtoo. He'd always known that he had a biological father named Jackson who lived in Lovett, Texas. They'd toldhim as soon as he'd been capable of understanding, but he'd never expressed any interest in meeting Jack.

Steven had always been enough father for him.

It was time. Perhaps past time that she told Jack he had a son. A moan escaped her lips and she took a sip ofcoffee. A fifteen-year-old son with a pickle green Mohawk, a pierced lip, and so many dog chains hanging offhim he looked liked he'd broken into the animal shelter.

Nathan had had such a hard time these past two and a half years. When Steven was diagnosed, he'd been givenfive months to live. He'd lasted almost two years, but it hadn't been an easy two years. Watching Steven fight tolive had been hard on her, but it had been hell oil Nathan. And she hated to admit it, but there had been timeswhen she hadn't been at all attentive to her son. Some nights, she hadn't even known he was gone until he'dreturned. He'd walk in the door and she'd scold him for not telling her where he'd gone. He'd look at her throughthose clear blue eyes of his and say, "I told you I was going to Pete's. You said I could." And she'd have toadmit to herself that it was entirely possible that he'd told her, hut she'd been focused on Steven's medication orhis next surgery - or perhaps that had been the day when Steven lost his ability to use a calculator, drive a car,or tie his shoes. Watching her husband struggle to maintain his dignity while trying to recall a simple task he'dbeen performing since he was four or five had been heartbreaking. There were times when she'd simplyforgotten whole blocks of conversations with Nathan.

The day Nathan had walked in the house with that Mohawk had been a real wake-up call for her. Suddenly, hewas no longer the little boy who played soccer, loved football, and watched "Nickelodeon" curled up on thecouch with his special blanket. It hadn't been the color of his hair that had alarmed her most. It had been the lostlook in his eyes. His empty, lost gaze had shocked her out of the depression and grief she hadn't even knownshe'd fallen into for almost seven months following Steven's passing.

Steven was gone. She and Nathan would always feel his loss, like a missing part of their souls. He'd been herbest friend and a good man. He'd been a buffer, a comfort, someone who made her life better. Easier. He'd beena loving husband and father.

She and Nathan would never forget him, but she could not continue to live in the past. She had to live in thepresent and begin to look toward the future. For Nathan, and for herself. But in order for her to move forward,she had to take care of her past. She had to quit hiding from it.

Fingers of morning sun crept into the backyard and sparkled in the dew-covered lawn. The early sun cast longpatterns in the wet grass, crept up the windmill, and shot sparks off the up of Annie Oakley's silver rifle. Daisywished she had her Nikon and wide-angle lens on her. It was up in her room, and she knew if she ran up to getit, she'd miss the shot and the rising sun. Within seconds, dawn broke over Daisy's feet, legs and face; sheclosed her eyes and soaked it all in.

Living in the Northwest, Daisy had lost most of her accent, but she'd never lost her love of wide-open spacesand the huge blue sky stretching across the horizon in unbroken lines. She opened her eyes and wished Stevenwere here to see it. He would have loved it as much as she did.

Daisy looked down at the rubber garden clogs on her feet. She wished for a lot of things. Like more time beforeshe had to confront Jack again. She was in no hurry to see the anger in his face. She'd known that he would notwelcome her back with open arms, but she was surprised that after all of these years, he clearly hated her asmuch as he had the last time she'd seen him.

You call this ugly? he'd said. This is nothing, buttercup. Stick around and I'll show you how ugly I can get.

She wondered if Jack had realized he'd called her buttercup. His old name for her. The name he'd first called heron her first day at Lovett Elementary.

She remembered being nervous and scared on that day, so long ago. She'd been afraid no one would like her,and she'd suspected that the big red bow clipped to the top of her head looked stupid. Her mother had pulled itoff the handle of a Welcome Wagon basket filled with coupons, a recipe hook, and Wick Fowler's chili kit.

Daisy hadn't wanted to wear the bow; but her mother had insisted that it looked good and matched her dress.

All that first morning, no one had spoken to her. By lunch, she'd become so upset, she was unable to eat hercheese yum-yum sandwich. Finally; during recess, Steven and Jack walked up to where she stood with her backagainst the chain link fence.

"What's your name?" Jack had asked.

She'd looked into those green eyes of his, surrounded by long black lashes, and she'd smiled. Finally someonewas talking to her, and her little heart leapt with joy. "Daisy Lee Brooks."

He'd rocked back on the heels of his boots as he looked her up and down. "Well, buttercup, that's the stupidesthair how I ever did see," he'd drawled, then he and Steven howled with laughter.

Hearing that the bow was stupid confirmed her worst fears, and the backs of her eyes started to sting. "Yeah,well y'all are so stupid you have to take off your shoes to count," she'd responded, proud that she stood up forherself. Then she'd ruined everything by bursting into tears.

The memory of that day brought a sad smile to her face. She'd vowed to hate those two boys as long as shelived. It lasted until Jack had asked her to play on their softball team, three weeks later. It was Steven whoshowed her how to play second base without getting hit in the face with the ball.

At first, Jack had called her buttercup to tease her, but years later, he'd whispered it as he kissed the side of herthroat. His voice would go all dark while he discovered whole new ways to tease her. There had been a timewhen just the memory of his kiss had sent a warm shudder through her chest, but she hadn't felt anything warmand tingly for him in years.

She thought of how he'd looked last night, half naked and fully ticked off. His lids lowered over his sexy greeneyes, and that sardonic curl of his lips. He'd grown even more handsome than the last time she'd seen him, butDaisy was older and wiser and no longer tempted by good looks and bad attitudes.

Nathan didn't resemble Jack much. Except maybe the attitude part. He was staying with Steven's sister in Seattlewhile Daisy was in Lovett, but he knew the reason behind her trip. She'd learned her lesson about lies, no matterhow well intentioned, and she never lied to Nathan. But she had purposely chosen his last week of ninth gradeto make the trip so he couldn't come along. She didn't know what Jack's reaction would be once she told himabout Nathan. She didn't think he would be cruel, not to Nathan anyway, hut she wasn't certain. She didn't wantNathan here if Jack got truly ugly. Nathan had had enough pain in his life.

From inside the house, she heard her mother moving around. She stood and walked back inside.

"Good morning," she said as she hung up her coat. The warm scent of her mother's kitchen filled her nose. Thesmell of baked bread and home-cooked comfort food surrounded her like a familiar blanket. "I watched the suncome up, and it was absolutely "gorgeous." She kicked off the garden clogs and looked over at her mother, whowas stirring cream into her coffee. Louella Brooks wore a blue nylon nightgown, and her blond hair was piledon top of her head like cotton candy.

"How was your party last night?" Daisy asked. Every second Friday, the Lovett single's club held a dance, andLouella Brooks hadn't missed one since she'd joined in nineteen ninety-two. She paid fifty dollars a year tobelong to the club, and she believed in getting her money's worth.

"Verna Pearse was there, and I swear she looks a good ten years older than her real age." Louella placed herspoon in the sink and raised her mug to her lips. Her brown eyes looked back at Daisy over her coffee. "She wassurely saggin', baggin' and draggin'."

Daisy smiled and filled her own mug. Verna had once worked at the Wild Coyote Diner with Lonella. The twohad been friends at one time. During Daisy's junior and senior years of high school, she'd worked at the dinertoo, but she couldn't recall what had happened to break up the friendship. "What happened between you andVerna?" she asked.

Louella put her mug on the counter and grabbed a loaf of bread from the pantry. "Verna Pearse is as loose as aslipknot," she said. "For a year she told me she got paid ten cents more an hour than me because she was abetter waitress. She bragged and held it over my head, but come to find out, she was earning it in other ways."

"How?"

"With Big Bob Jenkins."

Daisy remembered the owner of the diner, and he hadn't been called Big Bob for nothing. "She was having sexwith Big Bob?"

Louella shook her head and pursed her lips. "Oral gratification in the storeroom."

"Really? That's criminal."

"Yes. It's a form of prostitution."

"I was thinking it was more like slave labor. Verna blew Big Bob for what turns out to be like -eighty cents aday? That's not right."

"Daisy," her mother scolded as she got out the toaster. "Don't talk filth."

"You brought it up!" She'd never understand her mother. "Oral gratification" was okay, but somehow "blew"

wasn't.

"You've been in the North too long."

Maybe she had, because she just didn't get the difference. Although there had been a time when she neverwould have uttered the word in that context.

Louella opened the loaf of bread. "Do you want toast?"

"I don't eat in the morning." She took a drink of coffee and moved to the corner breakfast nook. The brightmorning sun poured in through the sheers and lit up the yellow table.

"Did you go out last night?" her mother asked as she toasted one slice of bread.

Meaning, did she work up her nerve to drive to Jack's. "Yes. I went to his house last night."

"Did you tell him?"

Daisy sat on one of the bench seats and looked down at her hands wrapped around her mug. She had a chip inher red fingernail polish. "No. He wasn't alone. His girlfriend was there, so it wasn't a good time."

"Maybe that was a sign you should leave it alone."

Growing up, her mother had always liked Steven more than Jack. Although, Louella liked Jack too. When thethree of them got into trouble, Jack was often blamed. And while it was true that he'd usually come up with theoffense that landed them in hot water, Daisy and Steven would gladly go along with him. "I can't do that,"

Daisy said, "I have to tell him."

"I still don't understand why." Louella's toast popped up and she set it on a little plate.

"I told you why." Daisy didn't feel like discussing her reasons again. She opened the bottle of finger-nail polishshe'd left on the table yesterday and set about repairing the chip.

"Well, if you're determined to do this, you shouldn't go over there at night." Louella lifted the lid off the butterdish and buttered her toast. "People talk about widows. They say you're desperate."

Daisy's father had died when she was five, but she'd never heard any gossip about her mother being desperate.

"I don't care." She covered her index fingernail with red polish, then screwed the lid back on the bottle.

"You should." Louella grabbed her plate and coffee and sat across the table from Daisy. "You don't want peopleto think you're going over there for relations."

Daisy blew on her wet fingernail to keep from laughing. It had been over two years since she'd had relations,and she wasn't sure she knew how to do it anymore. After Steven's diagnosis and first surgery, they'd tried tohave a normal, healthy married life, but after a few months, it just got too difficult. At first she'd really missedsex with her husband. Then the more she'd gone without, the less she'd missed it. Now, she really didn't thinkabout it all that much.

"Tell me about all those flamingos in your backyard," Daisy said to change the subject.

"I think they're pretty," her mother said. Growing up, her mother had been into Disney. Their yard had beenoverrun with Snow White, the Seven Dwarfs, and several characters from Alice in Wonderland. "I got the bigflamingo with the little pocket book in its beak from Kitty Fae Young. Her granddaughter Amanda makes 'emup special order. You remember Amanda, don't you?"

Just like she was a kid again, Daisy felt her eyes glaze over. Her mother had always had a tendency to rambleoil forever about people Daisy didn't know, had never met, and didn't give a rat's about. Growing up, she andLily had been involuntary victims, trapped into listening to the hottest gossip going around the diner, whichusually wasn't all that hot. It didn't mailer how often they hinted that they didn't care about so-and-so's newBuick, arthritis or yummy homemade cookies, Louella was like a needle stuck in a record groove and absolutelycouldn't stop until she came to the end.

She shook her head and said a weak, "No."

"Sure you do," her mother said. "She had those really bad buck teeth. Looked just like a little beaver."

"Oh yeah," she said although she didn't have the foggiest. There were quite a few kids in west Texas with buckteeth.

Daisy slid from behind the table and stood. While her mother talked about Amanda and her yard art, Daisywalked to the sink and rinsed her mug. She glanced up at the purple and green stained-glass frame makingpatterns on the sill. She'd taken the photo in the picture frame. It was Steven and Nathan on Nathan's fourthbirthday, and she'd used a wide-angle lens to distort the closeup shot. Both wore party hats and were grinninglike lunatics fresh from the asylum, their eyes huge. She'd taken it when she first started photography classesand was experimenting. They'd all been so happy then.

A frown creased her brow and she looked away. She didn't want to think about the past today. She didn't wantto get sucked into the emotional morass of it. She put the mug in the dishwasher and her gaze felt on a grocerylist clipped in a clothespin recipe holder.

"...but of course you didn't live here then," her mother was saying. "That was the year a twister took out RedCooley's trailer."

"Are you going to the store?" she interrupted.

"I need a few things," her mother answered as she rose from the table and put the bread away. "After churchtomorrow, Lily Belle and Pippen are coming over for Sunday dinner, and I thought we'd have a nice ham."

Lily was three years younger than Daisy, and Pippen was her two-year-old son. Lily's husband had run off witha cowgirl, and they were in the process of a messy divorce. She was having a difficult time, and as a result, menin general were on Lily's hit list. "I'll go to Albertsons for you," she offered. That way she could choosesomething beside ham. She'd never been a big pork fan, and after Steven's funeral, a lot of well-meaning peoplehad dropped off baked hams. Some of them were still in her freezer in Seattle.

She took a shower then dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt. She dried her hair and put on a littlemakeup. With the list in her back pocket, she jumped in her mother's Cadillac. The car had several dents up anddown each side due to her mother being nearsighted. A flamingo air freshener hung from the rearview mirror,and the Caddie whined when she turned corners.

Inside Alhertsons, the Muzak of choice was Barry Manilow's "Mandy," an abomination in any state, butespecially Texas. She tossed a box of tea bags and a can of coffee into her cart, then she headed for the meatsection. She was in the mood for steak and grabbed a package of three rib-eyes.

"Well hey, Daisy. I heard you were back in town."

Daisy glanced up from her steaks. The woman in front of her looked slightly familiar. Her hair was pinned up inbig pink rollers, and she held a big can of Super Hold Aqua Net in one hand and a pack of hobby pins in theother.

It took Daisy a few seconds to place a name with the face. "You're Shay Brewton, Sylvia's little sister." Daisyand Sylvia had been on the same cheerleader squad at Lovett High. They'd been good friends but had lost touchwhen Daisy and Steven had moved away. "How's Sylvia?"

"She's good. She lives in Houston now with her husband and kids."

"Houston?" She set the steaks back in the case and placed her foot on the bottom rung of the cart. "Shoot. I'msorry she moved away. I'd hoped to look her up before I left."

"She's in town this weekend for my wedding."

Daisy smiled. "You're getting married? When? To whom?"

"I'm marrying Jimmy Calhoun over at Whiley Baptist Church. Tonight at six."

"Jimmy Calhoun?" She'd gone all through school with Jimmy. He'd had flaming red hair and a silver tooth.

There were six Calhoun boys; all of them trouble. If she'd had to lay odds, she would have bet the lot of themwere living in Huntsville with prison tattoos by now.

Shay laughed. "Don't look at me like I've Come off my spool."

Daisy hadn't realized her mouth was hanging open and she snapped it shut. "Congratulations, I'm sure you'll bevery happy," she said.

"Come to my reception afterwards over at the country club. It starts at eight."

"Crash your wedding?"

"It's going to he a big party. Lots of food and liquor, and we hired Jed and the Rippers to play music for us.

Sylvia will be there, and I know she'd just love to see you. Mom and Daddy, too."

Mrs. Brewton had been an adviser for the squad. Mr. Brewton had made his own liquor in the back shed. Daisyknew from experience that it Could eat a hole in your esophagus. "Maybe I will."

Shay nodded. "Good, I'll tell her I ran into you and that you're coming to the reception. She'll he tickled."

Daisy hadn't brought anything to wear to a wedding reception. The only dress she'd brought was a white tank,and it really wasn't appropriate. Maybe she'd just send a gift. "Are you registered anywhere?"

"Oh, don't worry about that." She smiled. "But yes, I am. Donna's Gifts on Fifth."

Of course. Everyone registered at Donna's.

"See ya tonight," Shay said as she moved away.

Daisy watched her disappear around a corner and she smiled again. Little Shay Brewton was marrying wildJimmy Calhoun. Growing up, there really hadn't been any boys more insane than Jimmy and his brothers.

Except maybe Jack.

Jack had always been wrapped crazy. It had never been enough for him to race his bike as fast as it would go;he had to lift his hands from the handle bars, or stand on the seat. It wasn't enough to chase dust devils; he hadto play outside when the weather service predicted an Fl tornado. He thought he was invincible, like superman.

Steven had been more daredevil than Daisy, but even he hadn't attempted half the stuff Jack had. He'd neverjumped from his roof into a pile of leaves and broken his leg. Or put a motorcycle engine on a homemade go-cart and driven around town as if he were at Talladega.

Jack had done that. He'd done it even though he knew his dad would whoop his butt. And Ray Parrish had, butit'd been worth it to Jack.

Steven Monroe had always been the safe one - dependable - while Jack had raced through life full throttle as ifhis hair was on fire.

Hanging around with the craziest boy in school had been a lot of fun. Getting romantically involved with himhad been a huge mistake.

One in which she and Steven and Jack had all paid a high price.