Eighteen
Daria came awake slowly and smiled when she saw Cole beside her in the big bed. She rolled toward him and snuggled in the crook of his arm, moved at how his embrace tightened possessively around her even as he slept. She lay her head on his shoulder and listened to his deep, even breathing, marveling again that he was her husband. It was the fifth morning of their life together as husband and wife. How wonderful it was to share her bed again, to have the warmth and strength of a man on the pillow beside her.
Theirs had been an idyllic honeymoon. The weather had locked them inside the house—or, more accurately, had locked the world out. They’d romped in the snow like children, camped in front of the fire in the cozy den for hours on end, talking, making love, feeding each other crackers and cheese, sipping warm mugs of hot chocolate. Daria wished it would never end.
She was grateful to be feeling this way now because their first night together had been an emotional roller coaster for her. Cole had been so gentle, so tender, and yet his lovemaking had brought memories of Nathan crashing back. Of course, she didn’t want to tell Cole how she was feeling. But she knew that he was probably struggling with old memories himself. Afterward she had lain in his arms in the dark and tried desperately to hide her tears, for she honestly couldn’t have told Cole whether they were tears of joy because she’d found him or tears of sorrow because she’d lost Nate.
Now, in the grey light of this new morning, she realized that her tears had probably been a poignant mingling of the two. She determined to concentrate on the present and on the future that hung before them like ripening fruit.
She shook him gently. “Hey, lazybones.”
He growled playfully and covered his head with the pillow.
“Cole, let’s go get Nattie and bring her back here. She’ll love the sled.”
At that he perked up. Daria had supposed she would be the one to struggle with being separated from her daughter for five days, especially when the little girl was staying so close by with Daria’s parents. The third afternoon of their honeymoon, he approached her with a glum expression on his face. “Don’t you think we ought to go check on Natalie?” he’d asked her.
“You big sap! We haven’t even been away from her for three days yet. I think that little girl has you on a short leash.” She laughed.
“I know, I know.” He grinned sheepishly. “I miss her.”
“And I love you for it.” She leaned across the narrow island in the kitchen where they were fixing fajitas, and kissed him.
“I don’t know, Daria,” Cole said. “There’s just something about hearing that little blond angel call me Daddy.” He turned away to stir the peppers and onions that were frying on the stove, but Daria didn’t miss the catch in his voice, and she was moved all over again by Cole’s unconditional love for her daughter.
She had managed to dissuade him then, but now, two days later, she was as anxious as he to see Nattie again. Daria could hardly wait to share this perfect winter day and the coziness of their new home with her. Mostly she couldn’t wait to share her new daddy with her.
Cole threw back the covers and started toward the shower. “Better call your mom and warn her we’re coming.”
“I don’t think she’ll be too surprised,” she said, pulling on her jeans.
They shoveled down bowls of granola and climbed into Cole’s truck.
As they drove over snow-packed roads, talking all the way about the plans and dreams they had for their future together, Daria could hardly contain the emotion that welled up in her. These precious days with Cole had been so fleeting, but instead of feeling that her honeymoon had just ended, she felt as though her life was beginning all over again. And she intended to savor every single moment.
Winter seemed to hang on forever, but in spite of the endless parade of grey, frigid days, Daria longed to slow time down. She continued to work at the clinic several hours each morning, but Cole had suggested that she stay home with Natalie in the afternoons. Daria was grateful for the time at home with her daughter. Natalie had adjusted to life in the country as though she’d been born to it, and she was growing so fast that they had trouble keeping her in clothes.
When spring finally came, Daria was delighted at the riot of daffodils and tulips that had sprung up almost overnight along the lane that led to the farmhouse. The brilliant yellow and red blossoms and the flowering crab apple trees that framed the house seemed to transform their humble farmhouse into a charming fairy-tale cottage. Natalie seemed to love spring as much as her mother, and every evening while Daria put dinner on the table, the little girl rode her daddy’s broad shoulders down the lane where they plucked a bright bouquet for the supper table. Daria would watch them, Natalie clutching the bouquet tightly in her sweaty palm, Rufus romping and slobbering beside them, Cole looking so happy it almost made her own heart ache with joy. It was such a contrast to the sorrow they’d both known. She wasn’t sure life could possibly get any sweeter than this.
In her spare time Daria worked on the house. Cole and Travis had torn down the old garage, which sat fifty yards from the farmhouse. Now, when the weather permitted, they worked on erecting a new one—this one attached to the house. Cole had spent most of his weekends working on the garage, and when she could talk him into it, helping Daria hang wallpaper and new curtains in the house.
One Saturday night late in May, they worked together hanging paper in the large master bedroom upstairs. They had been working since sunrise and were both exhausted. Though still strewn with the paraphernalia of the job, the room itself was finished, and Cole was measuring a length of paper for the walk-in closet.
“Honey, I was thinking of using the other pattern in the closet,” she suggested carefully. “Don’t you think it would look better?”
Cole threw up his hands, and the heavy roll of wallpaper fell to the floor with a thud. “Do you want my help or not?” he snapped.
“Cole,” she said in a voice meant to appease, “I just thought the stripes might be hard to match with those sloped ceilings. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do.”
“Well, it sure sounded that way!”
She’d known he was tired and a bit testy, but she was shocked at the anger in his voice now. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to—” She was on the edge of tears. “Let’s finish this tomorrow,” she suggested. “We can work on it after church while Nattie takes her nap—”
“No,” he spat, “I want to get it over with. I don’t want to spend the whole weekend on this stupid project.”
Her calm reasoning wasn’t having its desired effect. “Are you mad at me about something?” Now she was angry, but she tried to make her voice convey hurt instead.
“Daria, I’m not going to stand here at nine o’clock at night and argue about wallpaper. Bring me that other roll.”
“No, if you think this looks better, that’s fine with me.”
“Well, that’s a new one.” This sounded suspiciously like long pent-up steam hissing out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked cautiously.
He turned to glare at her. “You haven’t exactly asked my opinion on the rest of the house.”
“Cole…honey, why didn’t you say something? I thought you wanted me to redecorate—”
“There was nothing wrong with the way the house was when you moved in.”
She was stunned. In all the weeks they’d been redecorating, he had never once hinted that he disapproved of her desire to change the wallcoverings and add a few feminine touches.
He brushed past her and crossed the room to retrieve a roll of the floral-patterned paper. Then he turned his back on her and began measuring again.
Fuming at the unfairness of his accusation, she went for the vacuum and started to clean up the mess in the bedroom. While she put the furniture back in place and tucked fresh sheets on the bed, Cole finished papering.
It was almost midnight when he emerged from the closet and stood in front of the door, waiting to catch her eye. Bowing deeply he gave her a sly grin. “There, your majesty. Come and see if this meets your approval.”
Sensing his overtures at reconciliation, she approached cautiously and looked inside. “It’s beautiful.” The entire room had been transformed from an austere bachelor’s den to a cozy lovers’ nest.
“Honey, I’m…so sorry if you think I’ve just moved in and taken over. That wasn’t my inten—”
But he interrupted her with a finger to her lips. “Shh. I’m the one who’s sorry. Forget everything I said. I was just tired and crabby.”
“But those things you said didn’t just come from nowhere—”
“The house looks great, Daria. I like what you’ve done. Really. It’s just that I’m set in my ways. It’s not easy to teach an old dog new tricks. But hey, I’m adjusting, okay?”
She looked at him, trying to read his true thoughts.
But he reached for her hand, and all the harsh words that had passed between them began to fade. “I would hang froufrou, flowery wallpaper every weekend for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to have you in bed beside me every night.”
She cocked her head coyly. “Oh, so now it’s all about sex?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Although you do have a point there.”
She laughed and whacked him with the roll of leftover wallpaper.
“Besides,” he continued, ducking out of her reach, “you know what they say about wallpapering, don’t you?”
“What?”
“They say if a marriage can survive hanging wallpaper together, it can survive anything.”
Her smile held skepticism. “Did we survive?”
Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her deeply, then held her at arm’s length and looked her square in the eye. “I think we did. Let’s just not test it again too soon, okay?” Tenderly, he brushed back a wisp of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Laughing with relief, she put her head on his chest and tightened her arms around his waist.
The following days reminded her that there were many other adjustments they would have to make. The first time Cole spanked Natalie, Daria had to bite her tongue to keep from protesting. Cole told the obstinate little girl at least four times to leave the stereo alone. But her fascination with the shiny knobs and dials was too strong. When she reached out again, her watchful eye on Cole proving that she knew better, he hoisted her into the air without warning and turning her over his arm, gave her well-padded bottom three sharp smacks.
Natalie let out a scream that Daria knew was more anger and shock than pain, but nevertheless, when she saw Natalie’s eyes pleading with her for rescue, everything in her wanted to spring to her daughter’s defense. Trembling, she forced herself to go into the kitchen and stand at the counter, as Cole held Natalie and gently explained why he’d had to spank her.
“Listen to me, Nattie,” Cole explained patiently. “Daddy told you four times not to bother the stereo, didn’t he?”
Daria stepped into the doorway—where she could see but not be seen by Natalie—in time to see the little blond head nod miserably.
“When Daddy says no, he means it. Do you understand that, Nattie?”
Again that pitiful nod.
“Daddy loves you very, very much, but I expect you to obey me and Mommy. Now give me a hug, and you can go find a book for me to read to you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Daria marveled at her quick forgiveness. She knew that her willful daughter needed Cole’s firm hand, but oh, it was hard to stand by and keep silent.
One Friday at the end of August, Cole appeared in the reception room of the clinic as Daria was getting ready to head out the door to pick up Natalie at her parents’ house. Natalie was scheduled to spend the weekend with the Camfields, and Daria planned to meet Jack and Vera at the café in Bristol for the exchange.
But now there he stood, minus his lab coat, his car keys in hand. “Ready?” he asked, as if his going had been part of the routine all along.
“Y-You’re going with me?” she stuttered, gathering her purse and sweater.
He nodded. “Yes, I am.” He looked around the office, and, apparently satisfied that they were alone, continued, “These little rendezvous in the café every month are ridiculous, Daria. Whether they like it or not, I am Natalie’s father now. The least they can do is acknowledge my presence.”
“Cole, maybe we should at least call and warn—”
He held up a hand, silencing her. “Don’t, Daria. I know you’d like to keep the peace. I promise I’ll be a gentleman, but I’m not going to be the mysterious stepfather anymore. Natalie’s getting old enough now that she can sense their feelings toward me. I hate to think what they might fill her head with when she’s alone with them.”
As though that ended the discussion, he opened the door and held it for Daria. She shrugged and ducked under his arm. In silence, she slid into the passenger seat of their car. Cole started the ignition and backed out of the parking lot, his jaw set. They rode in silence to the Haydons’.
While Cole waited in the car, Daria ran inside to get Natalie. Margo had her dressed and waiting. Daria gave her mother a subdued greeting as Natalie stood sleepily between them, thumb in mouth, eyes darting from one to the other.
When Margo knelt to tie the drawstring on Natalie’s sweatshirt, she glanced out the open door to the driveway. “Is Cole out there?”
Daria merely nodded.
“He’s going with you for the big exchange? It’s about time. Cole has been very patient with the Camfields. I’m glad to see he’s taking charge of the situation.”
“Mom, please,” Daria started, eyeing Natalie deliberately.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, she doesn’t understand what we’re saying!”
“I think she understands more than we realize. I don’t want her to get stuck in the middle of all this, Mom. She loves Jack and Vera, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Margo sighed and rolled her eyes, but she kept quiet as she gave Natalie her ritual goodbye kisses.
As they reached the car, Natalie seemed to realize immediately that it was unusual for Cole to be along. “Daddy!” she cried, delighted when she spotted him. She squirmed to get down from Daria’s arms, and the minute she was released she flew to the driver’s side where Cole was waiting with open arms.
“Hey, squirt! How’s my girl?”
“I go see Dwama-Dwampa,” she announced.
“I know,” Cole said, pulling her up onto his lap and nuzzling her neck with his chin. “Won’t you have fun! Now you’d better climb over the seat and let Mommy buckle you in.”
“I dwive!” she told him, turning toward the steering wheel and putting her pudgy hands at ten and two o’clock on the wheel as Cole had recently taught her, much to Daria’s chagrin.
“Not today, peachy. We’re in a hurry. Grandma and Grandpa will be waiting for us.”
“No! I dwive!” she repeated firmly, avoiding his eye and gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Cole made his voice firm. “Nattie, get in your car seat right now.”
She pretended not to hear him and shook the wheel vigorously, making little vroom-vroom noises under her breath.
“Natalie Joan!”
That got her attention, but she hesitated a split second too long, giving the wheel one more deliberate spin.
With jaw clenched, Cole pried her hands from the wheel and lifted her over the front seat, plopping her into her car seat in the back. She immediately began to wail as though she’d been stung by a bee.
Trying to remain calm, Daria buckled the screeching, bucking child into the car seat.
“Natalie!” Cole shouted, putting his right arm on the back of the seat and turning back to glare at her. “Stop that screaming right now.”
Her voice rose another octave, and Cole reached to put a hand gently but firmly over her mouth.
Daria touched Cole’s arm and pleaded with him. “Honey, please…”
“She has got to learn that she can’t get her way every time she throws a fit, Daria.”
She held up a hand, frantic to keep the situation from escalating. “I know. You’re right, honey. But you’re the one who taught her to love driving the car so much in the first place. Can’t we just let it go this time? You’re going to have her so worked up she’ll be a mess when we get to the café.”
His face grew red, and he shouted above the wailing child. “And that’s exactly the point! She knows if she screams loud enough you’ll give in and then she’s won! She is playing you like a violin, Daria, and you don’t even see it.”
He turned away from Daria and spoke firmly to Natalie again, “Natalie, you stop screaming this instant or you will not get to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Do you understand me?”
Daria was horrified. She knew her daughter well enough to know that Cole’s threat probably wouldn’t faze her. And she knew her husband well enough to know that he would follow through on his promise if necessary.
Sure enough, Natalie took a deep breath and screamed even louder. A look of determination crossed Cole’s face, and he turned in his seat and started the ignition. Daria closed the back door and climbed into the passenger seat, fastening her seat belt in silence. Cole headed out of the driveway and toward town.
Natalie began to grow quiet as they drove, and they were entering Bristol’s city limits when Daria finally mustered the courage to test Cole’s intentions.
“I hope I remembered to pack her dressy shoes,” she ventured, trying to keep her tone casual.
Cole stared at the road ahead as he answered tersely, “She’s not going to need her dressy shoes, Daria, because she isn’t going anywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“She has got to learn that when we say something we mean it. She is not going with the Camfields this weekend.”
“Cole! They’re waiting for us right now!”
“They’ll just have to understand. It is going to take something serious to get through to this stubborn little girl, and today is as good a time as any to start.”
“Cole, that’s not fair to Jack and Vera,” she pleaded. “They’ve driven three hours to get here, and you’re asking them to just turn around and go back without her?”
“I’m sorry, Daria. I’ll explain the situation to them, and I’ll apologize for their wasted trip. Maybe we can offer to bring Nattie to Kansas City next weekend. But I feel very strongly about this. She has got to start understanding that we mean business, and in order for that to happen, we have to start meaning business.”
Her mind reeling, she clenched her jaw and tried to steel herself for the encounter with the Camfields.