Chapter 5
Daniel spent the morning regretting life. Regretting the way it had turned out. But most of all, he deeply regretted the way he continued to treat his daughter. Plain and simple, the problem was that she reminded him of Laura. She had the exact same shade of hair, with streaks of gold throughout. Her clear gray-blue eyes were an exact replica of her mother’s. Mostly, Holly was everything he was not. She was kind. She was giving. She was patient. She was smart. She was mature beyond her years. And though he had never brought the topic up, she had the voice of an angel.
He’d heard her singing in her bedroom more than once; yet he never complimented her, never told her how beautiful and unique her voice was. And he’d never told her that she had inherited her love of music from her mother. He never told her this because he’d forbidden any form of music in their house. For that matter, he made a point never to discuss her mother and her mother’s love of singing. It was because of Laura’s singing that he was widowed and Holly motherless. If only she had not had to go on that audition. He remembered how excited she had been when she received a callback from Paul Larson, the famous musical director of numerous Broadway hits. She had been so excited, running around the house, kissing Holly, lifting her high in the air, and whirling about. He could not help but get caught up in her excitement. She had sparkled and glittered that day. Her dream of a career onstage in a major musical was most likely about to come to fruition. Laura had even talked of relocating to New York City, and Daniel had agreed that if she were to get a role in a musical, and if there was promise of a real future, they would leave the house his parents had left him and move to the city. With a bachelor’s degree in horticulture from UNC State in Asheville, a job in the profession he loved might not be as easy to find, but he’d been willing to do whatever it took to make his wife happy.
And then she had died. Life stopped that day, and he’d never really cared about anything much since. Had it not been for Holly, who knows what he would have done? Traveled the world, though that was just a dream. He didn’t have the money for that kind of lifestyle. He could have chosen another profession, but his heart had always been in the land. He’d been as passionate about horticulture as Laura had been with her music. He understood passion; but now, he knew that passion could kill you. So, here he was, almost forty years old, working as horticultural director for The Upside. He really loved his work, though he did not care too much for the managerial side. Still, it provided a hefty income. He was still able to get his hands dirty, oversee the development of their nursery, and, when time allowed, managed to crossbreed a few seedlings, which gave him great pleasure.
There were times when he huddled up in the large greenhouse, watching his seedlings take shape in the form of brilliant-colored flowers. When he saw the seedlings blossoming throughout the flower beds of The Upside, he felt such an incredible sense of pride. But at the same time, he always felt guilty for feeling any kind of pleasure. Look what pleasure had cost him. Was it worth it?
Some days, he wasn’t sure. Then there was Holly. It always came down to his daughter. She had no real memory of her mother, or if she did, he’d refused to allow her to talk about it with him the few times she had tried. The hurt was still there, and though not as strong as it had been, it still bothered him to talk about Laura and how she had passed away. He’d never told Holly how her mother died, only that it was unexpected, and that there was no need to discuss it. Laura was gone, and that was the end. But now that Holly was getting older, he knew the day would come when he would no longer be able to silence her questions with a stern look. She had already rebelled against his wishes by sneaking to The Upside to hang out with that group of old women who seemed to think she was family.
It had all started when she was eight years old.
Pipes in the sprinkler system had gone haywire one night. He’d been called in by the night manager. He’d had no choice but to pack up Holly and bring her with him. An older woman named Carol, whom he’d chatted with a time or two, lived at The Upside. She had taken Holly to her home that night to watch her while he and the night crew repaired the system. Holly had been so excited about making a new friend, he’d taken her to visit Carol a few times after that night. Holly told him that Miss Carol was the grandmother she never had. He had not seen any harm in letting Holly visit her or her group of lady friends until she had started singing. She had the voice of an angel. Miss Carol had encouraged this, and Holly wanted to spend more time with her, as the old broad was quite the musician. They could make beautiful music together if he allowed Holly to continue down her current path. And now, she was talking about a Christmas musical, one that he knew was open to the public.
It was not going to happen. No way, no how. He had his limits. It was bad enough he’d lost Laura during the holiday season. He sure as heck was not going to let his daughter pursue a career in music, as he’d overheard her telling her friend Roxie the last time she had been over. Music was forbidden in his house, and that was that. He’d made that rule very clear as soon as Holly had been old enough to understand. She had asked him a zillion times why he hated music, and he’d always given her his stock answer—it was nothing more than background noise, and he despised unnecessary noise. And it was true. He liked the quiet. The silence. He wore earplugs as much as possible while he worked just so he would have silence. One of his coworkers asked him once if he had musical anhedonia, and he’d been shocked, not that he’d asked, but that there was an actual name for what he felt. However, Daniel knew his dislike of music had much more to do with the loss it had generated rather than simple dislike or some sort of psychological problem.
As far as he was concerned, music was noise. Nothing good ever came of it, and its consequences could be devastating. So he would do whatever he could to keep his daughter from a career that would most likely end in sorrow, anger, or frustration when success was not the outcome. She would thank him for this when she was old enough to understand life. He was sure of that.
He’d stop at Ollie’s on his way home and get a pizza to take home for dinner tonight. Holly loved pepperoni pizza with black olives and extra cheese. He’d even splurge and buy a liter of Sprite, her favorite soft drink, something he rarely allowed. This would make her happy, and he’d have one more successful night at home with his daughter.
Parenting was not that hard. Give the kid what she wants and get over it. Holly was a good girl. She knew not to expect all the bells and whistles she saw on television; that was not real. He hoped she would always remember that the arts, and music, and acting, were silly, self-centered, conceited activities. Maybe he would talk to her about becoming a doctor or an attorney—anything but music. Though she was not that good with numbers, she could learn if she tried hard enough. Her teacher had enraged him when she had offered to come to their house and tutor Holly. Did she think he was incapable of helping his daughter with her homework? Maybe she thought he wasn’t that bright. Whatever—it didn’t matter. Holly was smart; she would do fine in math as long as she studied hard.
He’d make sure she spent extra time on her math tonight, and every night, until she brought her B minus up to an A. He would not take no for an answer, either. She should be spending more time studying than singing. While he would not acknowledge the singing, he had no problem with enforcing good study habits.
Tonight, over pizza, he would make his request known.