Susan Wiggs - Marrying Daisy Bellamy

“Like Princess Leia, with those big things on the sides of your head.”

He did some more checking of the panel and gauges, and spoke on another frequency to a tower somewhere.

The single engine started, sounding like a lawn mower motor. Daisy did not have a single reservation about his flying. She knew she was safe with him.

He slowly navigated the plane out of the marina, and the whine of the motor crescendoed to a powerful drone. The shoreline flickered past with ever-increasing speed, and then they were swept aloft with a breath-stealing lift of power. The treetops seemed close enough to touch, and the long curved finger of Lake Cayuga beckoned with flashes of silver reflecting the sun.

Daisy leaned back in her seat and laughed aloud. The day was glorious, and life was good.

To most of the world, “New York” meant Manhattan—gridlock traffic, skyscrapers, Times Square, the Statue of Liberty. The rest of the state got little attention. Most people would be surprised by the vast wilderness and variety of the landscape. The brilliant scenery rolled out before them. There were towering hills and river-fed forests, rock formations and cliffs and gorges. They soared over Cherry Ridge Wild Forest and the Catskills Wilderness, overshooting Willow Lake for a view of the famed Mohonk Mountain House, a historic resort. Daisy had gone there with her mom and brother one winter, when their mother was still in the midst of picking up the pieces of her life after divorce.

The thought of her parents’ divorce no longer felt like a fresh, bleeding wound to Daisy. She would always mourn the loss of her family, but if she was being completely honest with herself, even when all four Bellamys lived under one roof, they weren’t quite a family. From her earliest memory, there had been a deep chasm between her parents. She hadn’t understood it then, but she did now. As hard as it had been to accept, her mom and dad simply weren’t meant to be together, no matter how hard they tried.

The breakup had not been easy for either parent, but the rewards were uncountable. Her father had remarried first, turning Daisy’s best friend, Sonnet Romano, into her stepsister. Later, Daisy’s mother had settled in Avalon and joined a law firm. Against all expectations, she’d fallen in love with the local veterinarian and couldn’t be happier.

Daisy sighed with contentment and looked over at Julian. He must have felt her gaze because he turned, too. In high-tech aviator shades, he looked incredible, Top Gun in a pink golf shirt.

The plane swooped down over the Shawangunks, a rocky ridge gouged by deep fissures. This particular wilderness area marked a special time for them both.

“Remember?” he asked, indicating the dramatic striated rock formations above the river. A few rock climbers, looking like four-legged spiders, clung to the sheer faces. Julian had taken her climbing there the first summer they’d met. She had railed and resisted the climb with almost as much force as she had railed and resisted his friendship—at first.

At that time in her life, she had not allowed herself to trust anyone, and that included Julian, even though she was completely intrigued by him. Challenged by him to climb, she had balked, but he’d simply been patient, knowing even then that she would come around. He was the only person she’d ever met who recognized her appetite for adventure. When everyone else dismissed her as another overprivileged city girl destined for a life of shopping and lunch, Julian had challenged her to want more, to be more.

At the summit of the climb, lying exhausted in the powdery red dust, she had done something life-changing. She had taken out what became her last pack of illicit cigarettes and with Julian as witness, made a small fire and burned them all. She never smoked a cigarette again after that day.

It would have been nice if that special, healing day had somehow inoculated her against future bumps and bruises, but it was not to be. At summer’s end, she’d gone back to her senior year at prep school, where she’d managed to screw up a lot more.

A whole lot more.

Julian flew the plane over a waterfall at Deep Notch, where they’d gone ice climbing one winter, another place wrapped in memories of a day like no other. Ice climbing. Who but Julian would think it was a good idea to scale a wall of ice? And who but Julian could talk her into following him? So many of the things she’d done with him involved climbing and striving, embarking on dangerous pursuits, trying extreme sports. The funny thing about following Julian on impossible adventures was that she always seemed to succeed.

Getting to the top of the wall of ice had its own reward, but that was not what she remembered about that day. What she remembered was that, sitting at the frozen summit, shaking and sweating from the treacherous climb, she and Julian had finally shared their first kiss. Before that moment, she’d already known she loved him. What she had learned that day was that she would probably never stop.

“And how about this place?” he asked, his voice thready over the headset.

She wasn’t even going to pretend to be coy. “I remember every minute.”

“Me, too.” He headed for their destination—Willow Lake. From the sky, the small lakeside town of Avalon looked both familiar and crazily different, like something generated by computer animation, perhaps. The town square and lakefront park were dotted with people out enjoying the day. She spotted the Avalon Meadows Golf Course and Country Club, where she’d shot many a wedding, and the Inn at Willow Lake, owned and operated by her dad and stepmom.

She looked straight down at the cataract known as Meerskill Falls, draping a plunging gorge like a bride’s veil. At the top, almost indistinguishable, were hills and cliffs punctured by the famous ice caves, another place she and Julian had explored.

She was tense, thinking about the past, and so she shifted gears, aiming her thoughts to the present moment.

Finally, they came to the most familiar, most beloved landmark of all—Camp Kioga.

She reached over and touched Julian’s arm. “It’s so beautiful,” she said.

The gardens and sports courts were pristine. Window boxes with flowers in bloom decked the cabins, bungalows and bunkhouses clustered at the water’s edge. The grand pavilion dominated the landscape. A few kayaks were paddling around Spruce Island, a small green atoll crowned by a gazebo. A catboat skimmed by, its sail flying, offering a welcome glimpse of summer.

“Want to take the controls?” asked Julian.

“Are you kidding? Show me what to do.”

He had her grip the controls. “The key is to have a light touch. No sudden movements, don’t try to force anything.”

“Got it.” Very gently, she eased back and the plane climbed. She felt the way she imagined a kite would feel, or a bird with wings spread wide, riding the very air itself. I love this, she thought. I could do this forever.

“I’ll take over for landing,” Julian said after a while.

He guided the plane into a downward glide toward an isolated area of the lake designated for float planes. The touchdown was smooth and exhilarating, and within minutes, they were tied up at the dock.

Daisy put her arms around him and jumped up in another full body hug. It felt so good to be held by him. “That was magical,” she said. “Thank you so much.” Every nerve ending tingled as he set her down on the dock.

“What’s that face?” he asked, breaking in on her thoughts.

“What face? I don’t have a face.”

“Right.”

Her heart sped up. Time to speak up—that difficult conversation she’d imagined this morning hovered on the edge of her consciousness. This was her first opening. It might be her only chance before he was sent off to Timbuktu. She took a deep breath, and the words rushed out: “I love you, that’s what.”