The Seeds Of A Daisy: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One (Women's Fiction) by Alison Caiola

realize it’s a diary—my mother’s diary. On the inside cover, in a frilly version of my mother’s handwriting, is written:
    This diary belongs to Daisy Rose Edwards. Do not touch or read it!
    It is dated May 1969—June 1971. I smile. I look at the other books—they too are diaries, all from different eras of my mother’s life. I look at the first entry, dated May 12, 1969. I do some quick math and calculate that on that date, Mom had just turned thirteen.
    I flip through, page after page after page. All the lines on each page are filled with the same frilly handwriting. I return to the first page and read:
    May 12, 1969
    Dear Diary
,
    I have never written in a diary, but since I got this diary for my birthday last month, I figured maybe I should start. Since my life’s goal is to be a very famous (and don’t forget very rich) writer when I grow up, I guess this will be a good start
.
    Last night, before I went to sleep, I prayed to God to help change my father’s mind and let me go with my friend Donna and her parents to spend two weeks with them at their summer home in Martha’s Vineyard. Donna is my very closest friend. We call each other Pali because we are best, best pals. Mama said she would certainly agree to the trip if my father said it was okay. She promised me she would ask him again after dinner. She told me that she would even make him his favorite dessert to put him in a good mood. So now I have to wait for my father to come in from the field for dinner. I made sure to do all my chores, so he’ll be in a good mood. So Diary, let’s both cross our fingers and hope that it will happen. I’ll write later
.
    Daisy xoxoxo
    She sounds so adorable. I love the little kiss and hug symbols she puts next to her name. She still does that when sending emails to me or her friends. I continue reading.
    May 12, 1969 bedtime
    Dear Diary
,
    I am the saddest girl in all Long Island! My father didn’t give me permission to go. He said if I’m not around to work the farm stand then it will be a big problem for us. Diary, I feel like my heart’s going to break. I’m pretty sure that Donna will ask Marjorie Potter to go instead. By the time the summer ends they will be best friends, I’m so sure of it. I’m going to pray extra hard this Sunday in church to ask God for all his goodness and his power to change my father’s mind. Like they tell us in Sunday school, God is all-powerful. He better be, ‘cause it’s going to take a major miracle to change my stubborn father’s mind. I can’t stop crying, but I’m so glad I have you, Diary, to tell all my secrets to. It beats what happened last week when I told Diane Farrell that I thought Jeff Sandberg was cute and she told half the school. Now every time I pass him in school, I want to die! I guess that’s what Mama calls life lessons
.
    Goodnight, Diary
.
    Daisy xoxoxo
    I close the diary and put it into my purse to read later. It makes me feel good to be able to go back in time and “hear” my mother’s words. I am sure when she recovers, she won’t mind that I’ve been peeking into her past.
    I stretch out in my mother’s bed and fall asleep. I wake up two hours later and look around. For a few moments I forget where I am. Then, I remember that I’m in the eye of a tornado, the worst nightmare imaginable. I don’t want to get out of bed. What I do want to do is raid my mother’s medicine cabinet to see if she has any Ambien. It would be pure heaven to sleep the rest of the day and night away.
    I lay awake staring at the ceiling. I know I have to get out of bed. I don’t have the luxury of shutting out the world. I dread the phone calls I have to return. People are frantic; I have to get back to them.
    I drag myself out of my bed and go downstairs to boil a pot of water for tea.
    I never drink tea in L.A., only when I come back to Southold. I guess it’s part of being on the farm. I look through the cabinets for something to eat. I find instant brown