“I just thought… I just thought…” Daddy’s voice trailed off for a second. “He seemed like a nice enough young man at first. Daisy just got married. Maybe it’s your turn soon, too, Jordan? Otherwise, who’ll take care of you when I’m gone?”
For so many years Daddy had told me to focus on golf, and I had. But it seemed like there was something in him now that knew he might not be around much longer, that was driving him to act a little desperate. “Daddy, I don’t need a man to take care of me,” I reminded him. “That’s why you and I worked so hard to make sure I could make my own living with golf.”
“But,” Daddy pushed further, “wouldn’t it be nice to find a good man who would make you happy?”
“Oh, Daddy,” I said, and now I felt a little breathless. My heart pounded so hard and so fast in my chest that I swore Daddy could feel and hear it too. I remembered what Daisy had said once, you could be good or you could be happy, but maybe you couldn’t be both. “I don’t think that will ever make me happy,” I finally said, my voice coming out husky, the words catching on the way out. I inhaled sharply, wanting to say more but stopping myself just short.
Daddy’s face was so close to mine now, and we stared at each other. Something honest but still-unspoken passed between our eyes in a quick flash, before Daddy looked away first. He patted my hand gently. “It’s late,” he said. “Get some rest. Everything will look different in the morning.”
* * *
AND DADDY WAS right about that. The next morning, Blocks was gone; his things had completely disappeared. Daddy didn’t come downstairs for breakfast either. The dining room was so quiet you could’ve heard a golf ball slice the air. And I ate my grits in peace.
But when Daddy still hadn’t come downstairs by ten o’clock, I walked up to check on him. The door to his room was closed, and I knocked and called out for him. He didn’t answer, and I closed my eyes for a second, remembering that moment between us last night. The way he had looked at me, like he knew what I was trying to say, that maybe he’d always known. And maybe that was why he’d been so keen on Blocks in the first place.
“Daddy,” I tried again. Still nothing.
Finally, I opened his bedroom door, walked inside. Daddy lay in his bed perfectly still. I stared at him, but his chest didn’t appear to be rising and falling. His eyes were closed, and his face was a preternatural shade of gray.
Oh, Daddy. No.
I ran to his bed, fell to my knees, and grabbed his hand. But it was limp, cold. Lifeless.
Daisy July 1919
THE SOUTH SEAS
THERE WAS A RADIANT SORT of bliss that settled over me in the weeks after my wedding. It came on immediately in Tahiti, a place with the bluest shade of water and whitest pearls of beach I’d ever seen. Every day, it was me, and it was Tom, and it was sun, and the sand and the water. We languished in a straw hut with sheer curtains for walls, lying naked in our giant round bed, listening to the sounds of the sea. My face glowed pink from the heat and from the happiness, and from the feel of Tom’s hands strumming lazily across my bare skin.
I thought about what Jay had written. That Tom would never make me feel the way that he had. But he was wrong. Every single nerve in my body felt alive on my honeymoon. Tom and I were together every day, every night. His skin felt like my skin; his body was my body, too. I woke up in the morning and there was no such thing as worry. Or sadness. There was nothing in the world at all but my dear, sweet, delicious Tom.
By the time we got to Oahu, six weeks after the wedding, we remembered how to put our clothes on, and one early morning we left our suite at dawn and took a walk through Kapiolani Park. We clung to each other, strolling along the long grassy slope in between towering palm trees. I could still feel the breeze of the ocean, even though I’d lost sight of it for a moment, and my skin felt damp, my hair stuck to my cheeks. Had I checked a mirror I might have been horrified by what I saw, and yet, I felt the prettiest I’d ever felt in my entire life.
“They used to play cricket in this park,” Tom said as we walked through the grass barefoot. “Father had a friend from Yale who moved to San Fran after college. Used to invite him here every May for a rousing cricket match.”
“Cricket? That’s like polo without the horses?” I asked.
“Oh, no. Not at all. I have so much to teach you still.” Tom laughed, and pulled me to him, kissing the top of my head fiercely.
Tom had offered to let me ride his ponies when we were dating, but the one time I actually mounted a horse, I’d been much too high off the ground and had immediately panicked and begged Tom to help me down. Never mind the idea of actually batting around a ball, or, whatever it was Tom did when he played polo. It’s not a sport for a lady, as Mother would say. Not that I’d let that stop me if I truly wanted to learn.