Beautiful Little Fools(7)



She nodded. She was no longer worried about the lettuce. “Be good,” she said softly, instead.

I inhaled, wondering if she really could see what Jay and I had done last night from the expression on my face, or, hear it, in the huskier tone of my voice. But then she smiled at me, that beautiful, pure Rosie smile. She didn’t know. She was always telling me to be good. Always wanting me to see the world more like she did.



* * *



AFTER ROSE AND Daddy left for the train, I bundled up and headed to the club. I’d spent so much time with Jay these past weeks, I’d barely seen Jordan. And I knew if I wanted to talk to her now, it would have to be out on the course with her, walking beside her and her caddie.

It was chilly and windy outside; the December air felt almost crisp enough for that rare Louisville snow. But Jordan would still be out on the golf course. She was so obsessed with that silly little sport; she practiced in the heat of the summer and chill of winter.

The club course was a men’s course, and truth be told, I wasn’t exactly sure why they let Jordan use it at all, much less in any weather she pleased. But I suspected all the men in Louisville were a little afraid of Judge Baker, Jordan’s daddy. And maybe, they were also just a little in awe of Jordan’s game, which was supposedly very good. Not that I knew anything at all about golf.

Jordan was easy enough to spot on the course now, as no one else was out playing in this cold today. I found her preparing to take a shot on the ninth hole. I stood back, watched her for a moment. Her brow furrowed in concentration before she lifted the club, swung, and the tiny white ball flew through the air. Her power was impressive. And maybe a little terrifying, too.

“Daise, what are you doing out here?” she called out, noticing me watching. I waved and walked toward her. “Meet me at the next tee box,” she said to the caddie, then took her bag of clubs from him and handed them to me. They were heavy, and I sunk for a moment before righting myself. I hoisted them over my shoulder and walked with her to find her ball.

“Jay snuck into my room last night,” I told her, keeping my voice low. Though no one else was around to hear me now. “We were… together. All night.”

Jordan paused, put her hands on her hips, and frowned. Then she exclaimed, “Oh! There it is.” She walked around me to stand behind her ball. “Daise, nine iron.” She held out her hand.

I shook my head and thrust the bag of clubs toward her so she could take what she wanted. “Did you hear what I said?” I asked her. She took a club and positioned herself behind her ball, rocking her hips.

She swung and the ball flew through the air again, until it dropped, then rolled ever so slowly into the hole up ahead. Jordan smiled at her success, walked ahead, and picked up her ball. I walked after her. “Jordie?” I was practically shouting her name. She was my best friend. I wanted her to reassure me, to help me. The way she always did.

“What do you want me to say?” she finally asked.

Jordan had told me a few days after Adelaide’s party that she thought Jay seemed all right to have fun with, but not the kind of man I should fall in love with. You’re not going to marry him! she’d said, laughing. And I’d been turning her words over in my head ever since.

“I think I am going to marry him,” I said now, finally responding, weeks later. It felt as if Jay and I had taken that vow with each other last night. Not legally, perhaps. But we’d said it to each other, felt it with each other, and that meant something. That had to mean something.

Jordan put her club back into the bag, took it from me, and walked briskly toward the next hole, waving for her caddie to come back. I had to run to catch up with her. “Are you mad at me?” I called after her.

She stopped, turned around, and gave me a hard look. “Oh, Daise. We both know he’s not the kind of man you’ll marry. You’re young and beautiful and why would you give yourself away, just like that, to a soldier?”

Her words felt like a slap. “I thought you were my best friend,” I huffed angrily. “I thought you’d want me to be happy.”

“Daise,” she said somberly. “I do. That’s why I’m being honest with you.”



* * *



LATER THAT NIGHT, Jay tapped on my window again. I turned Jordan’s words over in my head, that Jay was not the kind of man I’d marry. Why would you give yourself away, just like that, to a soldier? I swallowed back a bitter taste rising in my throat. Now instead of anger, I felt doubt curling up inside of me, wondering if she was right.

Be good, Rosie had told me this morning. But wasn’t it good, to love a man for who he was, not what he was worth?

Jay tapped again, and I remembered how cold it was outside and ran to open the window.

“I missed you today,” Jay said, his voice husky. He climbed into my bedroom. A cold blast of air entered my room with him, and I shivered. He quickly shut the window, and then he clung to me, kissed my hair. I turned warm again. The heat of his lips radiated across my head, and my face turned hot. Jordan’s words faded away.

“I can’t stand being apart from you,” I said, standing up on my toes to kiss his mouth. He hesitated, then pulled back from me a little. “Jay…? What is it?” My heart thrummed with what I suddenly knew he was about to say.

He pulled me toward him again, kissed my forehead gently. “Daisy, Daisy,” he said my name softly, stringing out the letters like he was singing me a song. “I’m leaving in the morning.”

Jillian Cantor's Books