by Lisa Mills
“Yes. And chemotherapy hasn’t worked. He’s relapsed and he needs a cord blood transplant to help him fight off the disease. But the doctors have been unable to find a donor. I’m not a match. No one in my family is either. The doctors were hoping his father would be compatible.”
His focus returned to her, eyes alight with comprehension. He might be the key to his son’s recovery. “Yes. Of course. Do I need to get tested or something?”
“I’ll call Dr. Franklin tomorrow morning and tell him I located you. If I could give him your phone number, the hospital will call you direct to make arrangements.”
“Sure.” He pulled a brown leather wallet from his back pocket and fished out a business card. “Here’s my contact information at work. My cell’s on there so they should be able to reach me anytime.”
“Thank you.” She took the card without looking at it and tucked it into the palm of her hand. Having said all she came to say, Danielle shifted forward on the bench and started to rise.
“Wait!” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
She shrugged away from his touch and scooted further down the bench where he couldn’t reach her. “Home.”
His shoulders slumped as if she’d knocked the wind out of him. “I had hoped … well, I was hoping we could talk about us.”
She wrinkled her brow and stared at him like he’d gone mad. “There is no us, Kevin.” She pushed to her feet and hopped off the swing before he could stop her. Taking strides as long as her legs would allow, she moved quickly toward her car.
“Dani,” he growled. His heavy shoes clomped across the wooden planks of the gazebo flooring, then she heard the soft swish of his steps as he ran through the grass to catch her. “Dani, slow down.”
“I need to get home.” The indifference in her voice was cold, but obviously not cold enough to dissuade him.
He jogged up beside her. “We need to talk, if not today, then sometime.”
“Maybe you need to talk. I don’t.” She shoved her hand in the hidden pocket in the seam of her dress and fished around for her keys.
“Look, Dani!” His voice was more forceful now, angry. “I want to see him. I need to see my son.”
She jerked to a halt and slowly turned to face him, letting every ounce of malice she felt show on her face. “Your needs don’t matter a whit to me,” she snapped. “You left. You didn’t come back. You forfeited your rights where Trevor and I are concerned, and don’t you ever forget it.”
His eyes went wide with shock at her tone, and he held up his hands as if to stem the flow of her anger. Speaking slowly like he was trying to gentle a wild horse, he said, “Dani, I can explain. If you’d just listen—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she responded with the same even tone and slow articulation.
She whirled away from him and continued her walk to the car.
“Dani, please, I’ll do anything. You can call the shots, you can make all the decisions. I just want to meet him. Give me a chance to get to know him, please.” He sounded so desperate, so vulnerable.
A hard knot lodged in her chest but she wasn’t sure if it was pity for him or fear for herself. She kept walking.
“Please, Dani! Let’s just talk about it.” His voice broke on the last part of the sentence.
A part of her felt his pain and wanted to turn and offer him comfort. But the practical part of her knew that keeping him at a distance was best for everyone. She grappled for a reasonable excuse that would keep him from showing up on her doorstep at the most inconvenient times, trying to insert himself into their lives. She reached the edge of the parking lot and slowed, letting him catch up.
“Look, Kevin. It’s not a good time. He’s really sick because he just had a chemo treatment, and he doesn’t like people to see him that way. In addition, the chemo can lower his immunity and it’s not healthy for him to have a lot of visitors in and out. A cold or an infection could kill him.”
As she spoke, the demanding glint in his eye softened to concern. “I didn’t know that.”
“Besides, Trevor doesn’t know about you yet. And I can’t risk anything upsetting him when his health is so fragile. Just give it some time, okay?”
“Sorry. I guess I’m rushing things, huh?”
“Yes, you are.” She stepped to her car and opened the door. “We’ll call you.”
He didn’t move as she started the vehicle and backed out of the lot. He just stood there watching her, his shoulders sagging, features heavy with resignation.
Poor Kevin. Was he sad that he was all alone? She rolled her eyes. He was getting what he deserved. She had a hard time raking up any sympathy for him.
Danielle drove past the elementary school, and turned down a side street, winding her way toward the main road through town. When she was certain he hadn’t followed, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d escaped round one unscathed and managed to put him off for an undetermined amount of time. She’d use that time to figure out how to get rid of him after he’d served his purpose.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trevor was much improved the next morning when Danielle woke. Nausea from his last treatment had passed, so he wanted to sit on the couch and spend the morning enjoying cartoons.
“Why don’t you get out of the house?” Danielle’s mother asked. “I’m going to do some laundry and clean the bathrooms. I can keep an eye on Trevor.”
Danielle rolled the offer around in her mind and decided to accept. She needed to look for work. Since most of her design jobs paid thirty to sixty days after completion, she figured that even if she got a job today, her first check wouldn’t arrive until her savings was nearly gone. Going broke and asking her father for a loan was out of the question. She’d swallowed enough of her pride. Any more and she’d choke.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d like to drive around and talk to a few people, see if there are any businesses looking for help with their advertising.”
“Yes, dear, that’s a wonderful idea.” Her mother’s eyes lost a little focus as she said the words, and Danielle knew her June Cleaver mother didn’t really understand. She’d stayed at home all these years—taking care of her children, cooking, and cleaning—and had never seemed to want anything more. She’d never worried about paying bills or making ends meet. Danielle’s father took care of all the family finances. What would that be like, relying totally on someone else for financial support and care? Danielle didn’t think she could go back to that after being financially independent for so many years. But she would be forced into that role if she didn’t get out and find work.
She rushed upstairs and pulled a business suit from the closet. The jacket and pants in robin’s egg blue fit like they had been tailored just for her and the color set off her eyes. Against her skin, the ivory silk blouse felt soft and cool. The outfit made her feel confident and capable, and she knew the feelings were projected in her actions and words. Money for clothes was usually in short supply in her household, but a few nice pieces had gone a long way to give her the professional appearance she needed for meetings with clients.
After slipping into some matching pumps, she found her purse and portfolio. Leaving a quick kiss on Trevor’s cheek, she headed out the door.
The first stops on her list were the factories just outside of town.
“Boss ain’t in,” one man told her as he chewed on the end of a pencil. “And I don’t know who he uses for that stuff, but I’ll leave him your number. Got a card?”
She was embarrassed to realize she hadn’t thought to prepare business cards. How was she supposed to pass herself off as a legitimate advertising agent when she couldn’t manage to produce printed materials for herself? The oversight didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
“I just moved to the area,” she explained. “I’m having new ones printed up.” As soon as she got home. “Here I’ll write it on your phone message pad.”
She wrote down her contact information
and a brief list of the services she offered.
The next few stops weren’t encouraging. “We work with the Demsey place,” the first man told her.
“Demseys handle our work. Sorry.”
“Them Demseys, they done a good job for us. Don’t think we’d be looking to change.”
After a handful of visits that each ended with that line, phrased one way or another, Danielle gave up her search discouraged. These Demsey people seemed to have business around town locked up tight. One of the men she’d talked to had told her the Demseys had converted a house into an office just a mile outside of town on the main highway. She decided to scope out the competition and soon found herself turning into the driveway of a little brick ranch with a chimney peeking beyond the far edge of the roof.
She stared at the place, thinking. If the Demseys were doing work for so many businesses, maybe they were in need of help. What would it hurt to introduce herself and see if they were hiring? Before she could talk herself out of the idea, she climbed from the car and walked to the front door.
A large stone with a flat face rested beneath the building’s front window. The words “Demsey Advertising Studio” had been carved into its smooth surface, and someone had planted hostas and geraniums around it with fragrant lavender plants and brown wood chips filling out the rest of the bed. A Monarch butterfly sat atop the rock sunning its wings. Danielle stopped to study it, using the peaceful moment to gather her wits and get herself into a frame of mind to face the competition with aplomb. Calm and collected, she walked to the deep red front door and tried the knob. It opened, welcoming her with a gust of cool air that smelled of roses.
A half-wall topped by a brown marble counter divided the entry from what had once been the living room. A woman with russet-red hair and matching lipstick looked up from a desk situated just behind the front counter. “Can I help you, hon?”
Danielle swallowed back the nervous feeling in her throat. “I was wondering if the owner might be available to speak with me.”
“That would be me.” The woman pushed away from her desk and stood. She was a round woman, full and robust, and had the personality to match. When she spoke, her voice was as merry as her face, sounding as if she were about to break into laughter. “I’m Lola Demsey, and this is my husband Parker.” She waved to a long, lanky man in the back of the office. Gray fringe around his temples accented his dark hair. Knobby shoulders drew sharp angles beneath the cut of his shirt. He smiled and nodded, then went back to staring at his computer screen.
“What can we do for you?” Lola asked.
Danielle laid her portfolio on the counter and plunged into her spiel. “I was hoping I could do something for you. I’m a designer. Had my own studio in Florida. I just moved to this area and I’m looking for work. Would you happen to be hiring?”
Lola did laugh then, filling the room with rich, joyful sound. “Parker, did you hear that?”
Danielle watched the two of them, not quite sure what was so funny.
Lola turned back to Danielle, and rushed to explain. “Oh, honey, I’m not laughing at you. Not ten minutes ago, I was complaining up a storm to Parker. We got slammed with projects last week, and we’ll have to work sixteen-hour days for a month to get it all done on time.” She turned and flashed a grin at her husband. “I told Parker I’m getting too old for that kind of schedule and we needed to hire some help.” She spread her thick arms wide. “And here you are!”
Danielle smiled then, too, relieved that Lola was making it so easy to ask for work, and glad to find a lead so quickly.
Lola laid her hand on Danielle’s portfolio. “Are these samples of your work?”
“Yes, a few brochures, flyers, ad layouts … that kind of thing.”
“Let’s see what you got.”
Lola herded Danielle to a conference table in a room off the side of their reception area. “You can see we have a complex filing system,” she said, laughing as she pushed aside stacks of paperwork to make space on the table.
Danielle laid out her portfolio and opened it to the first page—the brochure she’d done for Mr. Hartog. Despite the difficulties she’d had dealing with the businessman, his literature had turned out remarkably well.
Lola nodded her head appreciatively. “Clean lines, well organized, but with a nice artistic flair. Who chose the color scheme?”
“I did,” Danielle admitted. “They use navy blue on their business letterhead, so that one was a given, but I picked the others and I like how they turned out.”
“Real classy. Let’s see the rest.”
They spent a half hour going through Danielle’s work, Lola finding something nice to say about each one. Parker nosed in halfway through and admired a few pieces before returning to his desk in the outer office. Both Demseys asked knowledgeable questions about the computer system she used, the software she favored, and the printing methods she was familiar with.
By the time they’d finished talking, Lola looked like a proud mother cat. She helped Danielle gather her things and walked her back to the front counter.
“Parker, a gold mine just walked into town, and we’re staking our claim before she gets snatched up by the competition.”
Parker, who seemed quieter but just as easy-going as his wife, smiled and nodded at Danielle. “I think we’d better.”
Lola grew serious for a moment. “We’d be hiring you on as contract labor, not a full employee. So the work might not be steady year round, and no benefits.”
Danielle grinned at her. “Sounds like the deal I had in Florida working for myself.”
Lola laughed. “Right. I forgot you’ve walked this road before. If you’re willing, then we need to decide what’s a fair rate of pay.”
They talked numbers for a few minutes, establishing a fair wage for the work Danielle would be doing. She was thrilled to discover she’d be making nearly as much as she’d earned in Florida working for herself, and she wouldn’t have to deal directly with the customer. Lola and Parker would handle that. It was a good deal, better than she could have hoped for, and she wondered why fate had suddenly shown her a little favor when she’d been getting nothing but punishment for months.
Lola held out her hand and smiled. “Guess we’re in business, honey.”
When Danielle took Lola’s hand, the older woman pulled her in for a quick hug. “I’m so glad you came to see us. I might have a few evenings free this month after all.”
Danielle hugged Lola back and realized that while they’d only met an hour ago, she felt like an old friend. “I appreciate the work.”
Parker brought a thick file folder and laid it on the counter. “You can start by making updates to this sales catalogue. The company, which makes windows for homes and RVs, has made some changes to their pricing, and the literature needs to reflect that,” he said in his quiet voice. He flipped through the pages, showing her where the company’s salesman had marked up the changes in red ink. “A digital file of the catalogue is on this CD. We’d need the changes back in a week.”
“Can you handle that?” Lola cocked her head and winked. “If you have questions, call. If you get the work done sooner, bring it back and we’ll load you up again.”
~ ~ ~
Danielle sat at her desk, inputting the catalogue changes that Lola and Parker had assigned her. Though the editing was tedious at times, she was making good progress and expected to finish up within the hour. Completing the edits on the current page, she moused to the next and studied the layout. It featured a large picture window. The view beyond the glass was of a sandy beach, palm trees dancing in the wind.
A home-sick feeling flooded her body. She ached for the sight of waves lapping up on a sandy shore and the briny smell of a sea breeze tickling her nose. She pulled out her new cell phone and was dialing before the images had faded from her mind.
“Hello?”
“Janna!” The sound of her friend’s voice brought tears to her eyes. Danielle hadn’t realized how mu
ch she missed her favorite redhead until that moment.
“Danielle! What are you up to?”
“I’m calling to give you my new cell number.”
“You’ve got a cell phone?” Janna sounded shocked, but Danielle knew she was just teasing. Janna had often joked that Danielle was the only adult on the planet who didn’t have one. “Technology bug finally caught up with you?”
“Yeah, that and I realized I couldn’t put my parents’ phone number on my new business cards. It seemed like the practical choice. But I’m only using it for emergencies. I got a pre-pay plan so I can discontinue it when I get a place of my own if my budget won’t allow me to keep it.”
Janna laughed. “You always were so practical. For once I’d like to see you take a real risk, live on the edge for a day.”
“More excitement and drama is the last thing I need. My life is already like a soap opera.”
“I guess you’re right. So how are things with Trevor? Cory’s been asking about him.”
“He’s good. We’ve started treatments up here, and we’re still looking for a donor.”
“Any leads?”
Uncomfortable tightness crawled through her chest. “Actually, yes.” Her tone must have clued Janna that something was up.
“Spill it? What’s the deal?”
“Trevor’s father showed up,” Danielle admitted, quietly. “Just rang the doorbell one day.”
Janna gasped. “But that’s good, isn’t it? The doctors wanted you to look for him. He could be a donor match for Trev, right?”
“Yeah, he agreed to get tested, and the lab is working on the results as we speak. If he’s a match, we can move ahead with the transplant.”
“Then I hope it works out for Trevor’s sake.”
“Of course.” Awkward silence radiated through the line.
“But?” Janna asked, dragging out the word. Danielle could almost see her friend’s eyebrows twisting in confusion. “I hear a definite ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“There’s a ‘but.’ It’s Kevin. He’s … well, he seemed genuinely happy to find us. He wants to get to know Trevor, and he keeps trying to talk to me about us. Says he wants to explain what happened back then.” Anger rushed in and edged her words. “What good is an explanation going to do now, after all these years? Does he really think he can breeze into our lives like nothing ever happened?”
