Page 93 of Daisy Chain
Rage bubbles under my skin. I pick up the diary and spring to my feet, storming through the house. My father’s in the kitchen looking inside the fridge. He must have heard me enter because he says, “I have steaks for dinner.”
“I won’t be staying.” My voice trembles.
“Why not?” He closes the door and turns to face me. His expression turns to concern when he looks at my face. “Daisy, what’s wrong?”
I hold the diary toward him. “Have you read this?”
“What is it?”
“Mom’s diary.”
His forehead creases. “I didn’t know she had one. Where did you find it?”
“I found it with her things.”
“From the looks of you, there’s something you didn’t like reading.”
Does he know she gave up her life—the man she loved—to make everyone around her happy?
Everyone except herself.
“You could say that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“For years, you’ve lied to me.”
His head jerks back. “What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you.”
I pace the small kitchen, my skin pinching with fury. “Ever since I can remember, you’ve told me that Mom wanted me to follow in her footsteps. Stand by your side and be part of the church’s community.”
“That’s what she wanted.”
I slap the book on the counter. “You’re lying.”
His eyes widen.
“Did you know she loved another man before you?” I don’t give him time to answer. “That she wanted to move to another country to be with him? Her parents wouldn’t allow it. So, she didn’t go because she didn’t want to disappoint them. It crushed her.” I’m so beyond angry, I don’t care if that piece of information hurts him. “Did you know that she went to law school and didn’t work as a lawyer because her ‘job’ was with the church?” His eyes fill with guilt, and he glances at the floor. “Oh, so you did know. You and her parents convinced her to give up her dreams because becoming your wife and becoming part of the church was more important.”
“It’s important work.” It’s a weak excuse. Nothing can justify dictating a person’s life.
I toss my hands in the air. “Yes, it is. If that’s what she wanted. But it wasn’t.” I point a finger in his direction. “It wasyourdream. You and her parentsbrokeevery one of hers.”
At the thought of my mother not living the life she wanted, my throat clogs with unshed tears. I won’t have the same fate.
He takes a step toward me with his hand stretched out to touch me, but I take one back. His arm drops to his side. “Daisy, you’re exaggerating.”
My mouth falls open. I pick up the diary from the counter and toss it to him. “Read it. Then tell me I’mexaggerating.” It fumbles in his hands.
“One of her last entries was a letter to me when she was pregnant. She wanted a life for me that she never had. She wanted me to follow my dreams. Be with the man I loved. And to never let anyone take it away from me.” I take a deep breath. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. From now on, I’m living my life the way I want. Don’t expect me at work tomorrow.”
“Daisy, you’re not thinking clearly. What will you do if you’re not working at the church? It’s all you know.”
And whose fault is that?“I’m going to enrol in nursing school.” And knowing that it can finally happen fills me with excitement for my future.
My father blows out a breath. “You’re needed at the church. Stop being silly. This diary is just filled with nonsense your mother didn’t mean. You can’t change your life because of it.”
The muscles in my jaw tighten. Her heart and soul were poured into those pages. I could feel the anguish in every word. “To call her thoughtsnonsenseis disrespectful. I believe everything she wrote. And you need to stop trying to set me up with men you think are suitable for me. It’s never worked and it never will.”
