Blue Sky Days (3 page)

I pulled her back and hugged her tightly. “It’s wonderful, Daisy,” I said, my words muffled slightly by her hair. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, giving me a squeeze. “It was something new for me to do—an art project of a different sort.” She pulled back and moved her shoulders in a shrug that suggested it was no big deal, but her shining eyes told me she was pleased I liked it so much.

“Not just ‘thank you’ for the room. Thank you for everything. For letting me stay here as long as I need…for being so understanding…”

Daisy waved her hand in dismissal, and I could have sworn her cheeks began to colour. “Like I said, sweetie, it’s my pleasure. It gets a little lonely here sometimes, and I’m just so thrilled I finally get to share the place with someone I love. I know we’re going to have a spectacular summer and it’ll be like old times before we know it, with us being the best of friends. Don’t worry about a thing.”

She kissed me on the cheek again, and as she pulled back I thought I saw a tear glimmering in her eye.
 
She smiled broadly at me though, and said, “How ‘bout you get settled in—unpack, take a nap, enjoy the view, whatever you want. I’m going to go work on some of my paintings, then get dinner started. If you need me, you know where to find me.” She whirled around and headed for the door, leaving her sweet, earthy scent lingering in the air.

Alone in my new room, I looked around, taking it all in again. Now instead of the unexplainable urge to cry, I felt like laughing. I ran and jumped onto my bed, burying myself in the lush pillows. When I sat up to catch my breath, I flipped onto my back and surveyed my surroundings, sighing happily. “I’m home.”

CHAPTER 2

The next day I did something I hadn’t done since the summers and weekends of my childhood: I slept in. When I rolled over in my exquisitely soft and cozy bed, smelling the sweet scent of flowers carried in on the breeze from my open window, I wanted to stay there forever.

Every time I woke up, I would roll over and tell myself
just a few more minutes
, and fall back to sleep. When I finally managed to drag myself out of bed at ten o’clock, I paused at the top of the stairs and heard music coming from Daisy’s side of the house. Following the sound, I found her in her creative room.

A U2 song was blasting from the stereo system—I recognized the band because they were one of Daisy’s favourites and we used to listen to them all the time when I was younger. She had even gone to one of their concerts when I was nine, and brought me back a t-shirt.

I stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame. Daisy was standing in front of an easel and canvas by the French doors, which were wide open, curtains billowing in the light wind. She was still in her nightgown, floor-length and sleeveless, the lacy bottom catching in the draft every few seconds and dancing around her ankles. Her hair was piled on top of her head and pinned carelessly by paintbrushes, with loose tendrils falling around her face and neck. Her appearance gave me the impression that she’d been struck with sudden inspiration, and without giving a thought to anything else, had come here to paint.

As if sensing my presence, Daisy turned with a smile playing at her lips, her eyes faraway and dreamy. She gave me a little wave with a paint-covered hand, then stepped back so I could see the canvas that was covered in a swirl of intricate, finger-painted designs of every colour imaginable.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, a bit breathless.

Daisy’s smile widened as she moved over to the stereo, turning the music down so Bono’s voice was like a whisper coming from the speakers. “Come here.” She motioned excitedly for me to join her in front of the canvas. Guiding me so that I was standing in front of her, she rested the heels of her hands on my shoulders, fingers extended to avoid getting paint on me. “What do you see?”

I was so taken aback by the question that I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I turned slightly to look at Daisy, whose eyes were dancing with laughter, and I wondered if I had missed something. “I…”

She chuckled. “It’s okay. It’s abstract, open to interpretation. You want to know what I see?” She tilted her head and looked from me to the painting, her eyes taking on that dreamy quality once more.

I waited silently, watching her face.

“Life,” she said simply. When I raised my eyebrows, she laughed again. “Life is like a swirl of colour. It’s fast, like these strokes here.” She pointed at the canvas, indicating a series of short strokes that looked like they had been painted on with a flick of the fingers. “But slow too, like these. It’s intense and powerful and chaotic and beautiful. Spontaneous and unpredictable.”

I nodded my head slowly, narrowing my eyes. I stared at the painting until finally something clicked in my mind and I understood. Where I had seen just a mass of chaotic swirls before, I now saw life amid the bright colours and quick finger strokes. It was amazing to see what Daisy saw.

“You inspired me,” Daisy said, turning me around to face her.

“
Me
?” I said, astounded.

“Yes,
you
,” Daisy said, chuckling. “Your reason for coming here—to find yourself, to experience life in a way that’s completely new to you. Emma, I see the world in a much different way than most people. I see the good, the beauty, the wonder, the
fun
that life can be if you’re willing to take chances and let go of your preconceived notions and your inhibitions. Your bravery in wanting to find out where you fit in this world is astonishing to me. It’s inspiring.”

Bravery
? I never in a million years would have thought of it as bravery. Quite the opposite, actually. I was running away from my old life—from the person I didn’t want to be anymore. I didn’t see how that was brave.

“But Daisy…” I said slowly, trying to find words to express the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions inside me. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, you don’t really know the person I’ve become. We used to have so much fun together, but when you left…” How could I say this without making Daisy feel guilty for moving away? She wasn’t responsible for who I had become. “You know what my mother is like—her impossible standards, and her critical, intolerant, selfish nature. I thought I could make her happy, or at the very least, make her proud of me. I did everything I could, and I lost myself in the process. My whole identity centred on being the best at everything so that my mother would notice. I have no life, no friends, and when I close my eyes and try to picture myself in a few years, it’s just…blank. Leaving home because I couldn’t stand the pressure isn’t brave, it’s pathetic.”

Daisy shook her head, gripping my shoulders tighter. “Listen to me, Emma Ward. You
are
brave. Some people live their lives a certain way and when they realize they don’t like who they’ve become, they’re not willing to change. They figure they’ve lived for so long in that way, why
bother
changing? But
you
took the initiative—you decided to get away from all the things that were holding you back, and in essence, start over. Whoever you think you’ve become, and whatever you might think of that person, it doesn’t matter now. Your mother’s not here to try to control you anymore. You get to start fresh and become whoever you want to be, no matter how long it takes.”

She glanced at her canvas, the wet paint shining in the sunlight. “I know that life will be phenomenal for you once you learn to free your mind from the clutter that prevents you from living life to its fullest.”

I followed Daisy’s gaze to the vibrant swirl of colours that represented life, then cast my eyes to the floor, speechless. For an instant I thought:
Daisy has just taught me more in the past ten minutes than I learned in my entire four years of high school.

“Okay, enough of all this serious stuff,” Daisy said, the laughter returning to her voice. She tipped my chin up with the back of her hand and smiled lovingly at me. She touched her nose to mine in an almost-forgotten gesture of affection we shared during my childhood. When she turned and headed for the sink in the corner of the room, her movements were so graceful and light it was almost as if she was dancing. I watched and wondered if elegance like hers was something that could be learned.

“I didn’t know what time you would sleep till, and then I got so wrapped up in my painting that I didn’t even make breakfast,” Daisy said, looking at me over her shoulder as she scrubbed her hands. “I’m thinking we could get dressed, pick up something from the café, and then take it to the park to eat.”

“That’d be fun,” I said. Fun—what a concept. At home, breakfast had always been bland and boring, whatever was quick and convenient so I could get to the school library before class.

“Wonderful! How ‘bout we meet downstairs in twenty? Can you be ready that soon?”

“Sure,” I said. I turned toward the door, and then paused, smiling slightly. “I’ll even race you!”

Daisy burst out laughing. “Now there’s the spirit! Loser buys breakfast!”

*****

An hour later, Daisy and I made our way through the park and up a steep hill that she said would give us a panoramic view of the town. She handed me the take-out bags from Mama Lynne’s Café before spreading out a checked picnic blanket in the shade of a massive oak tree. The tree looked ancient, its scarred trunk revealing wrinkled old faces hidden in the bark.

When Daisy had yelled “go!” after I suggested the race, I ran to my room and dressed quicker than I ever had. Apparently Daisy had raced before though, because we ended up nearly colliding at the top of the stairs on our way down. Calling a tie, Daisy offered to buy breakfast as a ‘welcome to Riverview’ celebration feast. And a feast it was: pancakes, sausages, eggs, fresh fruit, orange juice, and coffee. I felt like I was making up for a lifetime of boring breakfasts in one sitting.

“I’ve missed doing stuff like this,” Daisy commented as she took a sip of her coffee. She had added so much sugar it made my teeth hurt just watching her drink it. She was reclining against the trunk of the tree, her bare legs stretched out in front of her, with her shoes kicked off to the side of the blanket. “It’s going to be wonderful having you around and being able to do fun stuff together.”

“I know,” I said, leaning back beside her and taking a deep breath of the fragrant late-spring air. “I’m looking forward to taking it easy and having some time off to think about anything other than work or school or the future.”

“It must have been a huge burden for you, always working on projects and assignments and worrying about keeping your grades up. I mean, I realize that’s what school is for, especially when you have big plans for post-secondary education, but I also know you worked harder than most people. Did you ever wish you could just say ‘to hell with it all’ and go out and have some fun?”

“You would think so,” I said, plucking a blade of grass and tying it in little knots. “But honestly…no. It never occurred to me, as sad as that sounds. I was there to work and get my education so I could get into an excellent college, which would eventually lead to a well-paying job. Lot of good it did me, though.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Daisy said, patting my knee reassuringly. “You’re going to get a great job eventually, and I know you’ll be really successful at whatever you do, whether you end up going to college or not. For now, you can just relax and enjoy some well-deserved time off. It’s your chance to finally live a little.”

I contemplated this for a minute and realized Daisy was right. I hadn’t had a break in four years—five, if you counted the past year I’d spent working non-stop to save money for college. Now I had nothing holding me back, no major responsibilities or commitments. And most importantly, no more letting my mother dictate my vision of success. This was
my
time and I was going to enjoy it.

We ate the rest of our breakfast in companionable silence, enjoying the scenery and each other’s company. We were lying back on our picnic blanket looking up at the sky through the leaves of the tree when Daisy shot up and started collecting our garbage. “Inspiration,” she said, by way of explanation when she saw my quizzical look. “Gotta get back to the house and get back to work. I don’t have enough supplies in the car, or I’d set up here and work. Remind me to replenish my travel kit will you?” Without waiting for a reply, she stood and began shoving our trash haphazardly into the carry-out bags. “Do you want to come back to the house with me? Or maybe stay here or go explore Riverview? It’s up to you.”

I looked at Daisy and almost laughed out loud at the way she practically hopped from foot to foot with the desire to get home and start painting again. I realized if I went home with her, I’d either be in the way or end up looking for something productive to do, so I told her I would stay put.

“If you’re sure,” she said. “Riverview isn’t very big, so you can’t get lost if you do decide to explore.” She was inching backward down the hill as she talked, giving me the urge to laugh again. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.” She paused, and as if realizing she was already halfway down the hill, she rushed back to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you later, okay?” She grabbed her shoes from beside the tree, and without putting them on, took off running down the hill, sending a quick wave over her shoulder as she reached the bottom.

This time I did laugh. She was like an excitable child with endless energy and a lust for life like I’d never seen before. I couldn’t imagine living with such abandon and freedom, or being as passionate about anything as Daisy was. I still held the hope that she would be a good influence and that her exuberance would rub off on me.

As a start, I kicked my shoes aside and pulled off my socks. With my legs incased in hot denim, I wasn’t exactly dressed properly for a warm spring day, but I didn’t have many clothes. I didn’t own a pair of shorts or capris or even a skirt. For the past few years most of my time had been spent in air-conditioned libraries, study halls, and classrooms, so I never had a need for anything but comfortable, casual clothes.