Dockside (16 page)

Nina tried to explain these things to Greg now, wanting to reassure him. And why, she asked herself, did she want to reassure him? Because, in spite of their situation, she caught herself liking him.

“I suspect Daisy’s going through something similar,” Nina concluded. “Certain things never change. She’s seen all her friends go off to college or work or travel, while she’s still living at home.”

“There’s no reasonable alternative for her right now,” he said.

“I know, but she might be feeling restless. I know I did. My family was supportive from day one. They would have done anything for me, but that only made me more determined to make it on my own.” She suspected Greg wasn’t ready to hear that his daughter might not agree with him about living at home. She went to the fridge and found two bottles of water. Handing him one, she said, “I have a suggestion for you, and I mean this in the best possible way. Give Daisy your trust.”

“I do, I—”

“You say so, but in the meantime, you’re making all these contingency plans for when she fails. You’ve given her a roof over her head, a job, and I’m sure she appreciates that, but she also needs to live her own life. Having Sonnet made me a better person. You have to believe Daisy’s baby will have that same impact on her. Sonnet was the whole reason I eventually became town mayor.”

“To make Avalon a better place to raise her.”

“Exactly. It all started before she was born, when I heard Blanchard Park had cut its budget to eliminate playground equipment. I took my complaint straight to the city council and Mayor McKittrick. I’m my father’s daughter, after all, and he’s the consummate activist. And then again, I’m also my mother’s daughter—I offered a practical solution, a way to fund the playground.”

Despite the fact that she’d probably looked absurd—five foot nothing with a stomach out to here—she had stood at the podium in the city council chambers and made her case with clarity and confidence. At the end of the meeting, her father was beaming with pride, and the mayor offered her a paid internship as well as free tuition to a local community college.

“I knew taking the mayor’s offer was the right thing to do. It was a job with a future, and a way to get an education.” By that time, the inn had passed on to the Wellers’ nephew, an absentee owner who had never even gone to see the place. She’d still dreamed of owning it one day. But with a baby to look after, her plans had receded like all dreams do, fading into the distance and sinking out of sight.

Some of the local gossips opposed the idea of an unwed mother working for the mayor. They were few in number, though, and easily silenced by those who commended the mayor for giving a hand up to a young person. The people of Avalon weren’t cruel when Nina gave birth to a mixed-race baby, either. It was the 1990s, after all, and such things failed to create a ruckus anymore. The baby’s appearance did, however, change the speculation about the identity of the father. A number of boys’ names were crossed off a number of lists. And a couple of new names were added.

Nina had ignored the whispers. She focused on building a life for herself and her baby. True to everyone’s predictions, being a single mother was unimaginably hard sometimes. She still remembered those endless nights when the baby was fussy and had worked herself into her trademark relentless, I-can-outlast-you crying jags. She could still recall helplessly walking the floor, dreading the morning when it would start all over again, only worse, because she was so sleep-deprived.

She decided not to share that with Greg. He’d find out on his own, soon enough, from Daisy.

“While I was working for the city,” she explained, “I got my associate’s degree and eventually a bachelor’s from SUNY New Paltz.”

“People say you were the best mayor the town’s ever had.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Baseball fans, mainly,” he said with a chuckle.

He had a sexy laugh. She wondered if he knew that.

“So Sonnet’s father…” Greg began.

“What about Sonnet’s father?”

“Baseball fan?”

She knew he was probing. Which was fine; she had nothing to hide. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Daisy still hasn’t contacted the baby’s father,” he said, blurting it out like something painful he wanted to get rid of.

“It’s natural to put off things that are hard,” Nina said. “I didn’t tell Laurence about Sonnet until she was three.”

Greg looked stunned. “You didn’t?”

“I had my reasons.”

“So what made you decide to tell him?”

Nina busied herself, stacking empty moving boxes by the door. She didn’t want him to see the look of irony on her face. Although he didn’t know it, the impetus for her telling Laurence was Greg himself.

W
hen Sonnet was nearly three, Nina moved into a small clapboard house in town, rented from one of her uncles. Her parents had protested—it was too soon, she was too young, Sonnet needed watching—but Nina knew it was time. Past time. She had a job and was going to school. It was enough, more than enough, that her parents were Sonnet’s babysitters.

There was something both satisfying and lonely about living on her own. She felt grown-up and utterly alone at the same time.

One summer morning, as she was finishing a paper for her macroeconomics class, Nina looked down at Sonnet, who played quietly at her feet. The little girl had learned to keep boredom and restlessness at bay. When had that happened? Nina wondered. Where was her fussy baby?

Then it hit Nina—Sonnet wasn’t a baby anymore, and Nina had pretty much missed the transition. Despite the fact that she’d spent endless nights pacing the floor with a crying baby, or cramming for exams, or catching up on work, time had shot by in a blur. It made Nina a little sad, so she picked up Sonnet and swung her around. “I finished my paper and you’ve been really good,” she said. “Let’s do something fun.”

“Let’s go see Nona.” Sonnet’s grandmother was the little girl’s favorite person in the world, bar none.

“Nona’s working today at Camp Kioga,” Nina explained, “just like she does every summer.” Her mother claimed to enjoy the work and there was no doubt that the Bellamys paid her well. Still, Nina wished that just once, Ma would take a rest. But of course, Ma would say the usual—” In this family, the women work. It’s who we are.”

“What about the men, Ma?” Nina sometimes asked.

“The men? They dream.”

“I guess somebody’s gotta do it.”

Sonnet’s face collapsed into a mask of tragedy. “Nona,” she rumbled.

Nina glanced at the clock. “Tell you what. I’ll take you swimming at the lake.”

That did the trick. Sonnet clapped her hands with glee.

Through the years, the Inn at Willow Lake had lost none of its magic for Nina. Although she no longer worked there, the manager knew and liked her, and she had an open invitation to use its beach, a broad smile of sand at the lakeshore. Despite its slightly shabby air of gentility, the place still attracted summer visitors who enjoyed the slow pace and seclusion of the inn. Nina believed that people came for the a chance to experience life in a different, simpler time. The inn was an oasis, far removed from ringing phones, beeping computers, traffic jams and daily demands. Guests could be seen whiling away the afternoon in a rocking chair on the wraparound porch, playing a game of tennis or pickle-ball, or borrowing a boat for an evening sail.

Sonnet looked adorable in her yellow swimsuit with the rhumba ruffle in the back. She splashed in the shallows lapping at the coarse, sandy beach, squealing with delight as the cool water tickled her toes. The beautiful day had brought out guests and locals alike. There was a volleyball game in progress—college kids, probably, from Colgate or Skidmore or the nearby state college in New Paltz. Nina could feel the guys checking her out. She knew she looked good in her bikini. The yellow matched Sonnet’s swimsuit and contrasted with Nina’s olive-toned skin. As a municipal employee, she had police department gym privileges and she’d been working to tone up her abs. After Sonnet was born, Nina had emerged from the ordeal of pregnancy and childbirth with an even more grown-up body, and she was aware that in a bikini, she tended to cause male heads to swivel.

Sometimes she fantasized about a guy asking her out, but it never happened. No matter how much guys seemed to appreciate her body, they took one look at Sonnet and headed the other way. She didn’t blame them. She adored her daughter with every cell of her being, but that didn’t mean it was easy. No matter how much she loved Sonnet, there were still tantrums and diapers and sleepless nights of the croup, when Nina had to sit in a bathroom filled with steam, crying right along with the baby. It was hard to imagine some guy signing on for that.

Nina trained herself to be happy with the way things had turned out. She was still best friends with Jenny Majesky. Jenny had troubles of her own, what with losing her grandfather and having to change all her future plans to help her grandmother with the bakery. In the summer, Nina didn’t see much of Jenny. Her friend had two guys in love with her and was giddy with the choice she had to make. Nina never let on that she felt a twinge of envy when she saw her friends staying out late at parties, going to some cheesy drive-in movie, jumping on the train to the city, heading off to college and adventures Nina couldn’t imagine.

She told herself Sonnet was the ultimate adventure. Her little girl was beyond doubt the most beautiful, talented and smart child ever born. Of course, other parents felt the same way about their own kids, but in Sonnet’s case, it was justified. It wasn’t a story Nina told herself. It was a truth she embraced in the deepest, most silent hours of the night when she felt so lonely her whole body shook with the need to be held and touched. Not by hands sticky with peanut butter but by a man’s arms. This was a physical ache within her, but it was complicated. If it was a mere animal need, she could simply go out with some guy, have sex and make the ache go away. But of course, it wasn’t that simple.

Sonnet found some kids to play with on the beach. Kids tended to do that—park themselves beside another kid and just start playing. Sonnet joined a little blond-haired girl who was industriously shoveling wet sand into a bucket. Soon they were lost in another world, chattering away and giggling over things only kids could find amusing. Keeping her eyes glued protectively to her daughter, Nina lowered herself to a bench, nearly landing in someone’s lap.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see you there.”

The guy scooted over on the bench. “No problem. Plenty of room for both of us.”

Nina frowned, feeling a little prod of familiarity. She glanced at him and caught him checking her out, his gaze warm with appreciation.

“Oh,” she said, “hi.” She tried to figure out if he recognized her or not. In the meantime, she pretended she didn’t recognize him, either. But of course, she did. How could she not? He was Greg Bellamy of the impossibly dreamy eyes, the big shoulders, the square jaw, the…plain gold wedding band.

And he was back in Avalon. This was unexpected, since Bellamys were scarce around town after Camp Kioga closed its doors. The family continued to use the camp for private functions, but most of the time, the place lay slumbering, a ghost town of times past.

“So are you a guest here at the inn?” he inquired.

Was he flirting with her? Was he wearing a wedding band and flirting with her?

“No,” she said, her eyes still trained on Sonnet. Was he having her on, she wondered, or did he really not remember?

“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re trying to figure out if it’s more awkward to pretend we’ve never met, or to remind me that we have.”

Her gaze didn’t waver from the lakeshore, but she let a smile twitch at her mouth. “Pretty much,” she admitted.

“That’s what I figured. We’ve got the annual family picnic up at Camp Kioga, but my wife prefers staying at the inn,” he said. “It’s a little too rustic for her up at the camp.” He picked up a camera from the bench beside him and snapped a picture of the kids playing on the beach.

Nina flashed on a memory of the sophisticated, willowy blonde who had shown up with Greg’s baby. It had been shortly after that night with Laurence, the night Nina’s life had changed in one reckless, invisible moment. And Greg had been there, and he’d told her something she had never forgotten—
If you were older, this might turn into something.

Well, she was older now but she prayed he’d forgotten the flirtatious remark. He was a married man. A family man.

Covering a flurry of nervousness, she concentrated on watching the kids at the lakeshore. It was easy to pick out his child. She was the same little blond girl Sonnet was playing with. Even this young, she seemed to possess the Bellamy beauty and class. Oh, and charm. Mustn’t forget that. Like a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower, she won each child over with a smile. Sonnet seemed eager to mimic her every mannerism. When she handed Sonnet a shiny gray stone, Sonnet held the treasure as though it was the Hope diamond.

“Lookit, Mamma,” she said, cradling the stone in her chubby palm.

“Beautiful,” said Nina. “Want me to keep it for you?”

“Okay.” Sonnet placed it in her mother’s hand and then went back to playing.

Nina didn’t have to look at Greg to know he was now reorganizing his thoughts and assumptions about her. Guys always did that. They were startled to discover that she was the mother of a walking, talking little girl who looked decidedly African-American.

“Your daughter’s really cute,” he commented.

Understatement, thought Nina. Cute didn’t begin to describe Sonnet. The word for her hadn’t even been invented yet. Then an alarming thought crossed Nina’s mind. Greg knew who Nina had been with that night. He might guess the identity of Sonnet’s father.

“What’s her name?”

“Sonnet.” As always, there was a pause. Sonnet was an unusual name, so people assumed there was a story behind it. There wasn’t, not really. It was just that the Romanos all had traditional Italian names and Nina wanted to avoid that. “The day she was born, I was studying for an English test,” Nina explained.

“Let me guess—the structure of the sonnet.”

“ABBA, ABBA, CDE, CDE, GG. It’s imprinted on my brain forever. I was in the middle of ‘But if the while I think on thee, dear friend/All losses are restored and sorrows end’ when my water broke. That’s probably too much information for you.”

“Good thing you weren’t studying limericks or epitaphs.”

In accordance with her childbirth lessons, she was supposed to have a mantra to repeat during labor, and without really thinking about it, she’d chosen the structure of the poem. Baby or no baby, she intended to pass that test. She wanted—needed—all the credit she could get.

When the baby was born, Nina didn’t experience that sacred moment of spirituality some women claimed to have. She didn’t feel a sudden oneness with the universe or depth of bonding with the earth or humankind or whatever. The only thing in her head was the structure of the sonnet, so she figured that was what she should name the baby.

“My kid’s name is Daisy,” Greg told her, seeming to expand with pride. “Isn’t she great?”

As though she’d heard him, Daisy looked up, favoring him with a smile as bright as her namesake, and waved both her hands. “Let’s go, Daddy-O,” she said.

“You got it, Daisy-O,” he replied. “Nice talking to you,” he said to Nina, stuffing the camera into a big plastic tote bag. He walked down to the water’s edge, peeling off his shirt one-armed and tossing it aside to reveal a tanned, muscular physique. He caught the little girl’s hand in his and they ran together into the water.

Nina watched them for a moment, feeling a peculiar sense of unease. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason. Greg Bellamy was nothing to her—not a friend or old flame, certainly not a crush. He was just some guy whose life tended to intersect with hers at the odd moment, a moment that dissipated like a soap bubble, colorful and glistening and fragile, and then…gone. They were strangers. It was better they stay that way.

Someone else was watching Greg Bellamy and little Daisy, too—Sonnet. She had a pensive expression on her face, with an unspoken wish sparkling clearly in her eyes.

Nina felt a stab of guilt, because Sonnet didn’t know her father. And there was no denying that a father’s love was special. Just watching how strong and sure a man was with his child, remembering what Pop meant to all his kids—Nina couldn’t refuse to see the truth. No matter what she gave her little girl, Nina would never be able to replicate for Sonnet the experience of having a father. And as she got older, Sonnet was beginning to ask. She saw other kids with daddies and wondered where hers was. Nina knew the time had come. She would keep no secrets from her daughter.