Once Upon a Second Chance

by Marian Vere

  If only there’s some sort of sign…

  No sooner does that thought cross my mind than something outside catches my eye. I look down to see a figure sitting on the stone railing of the steps leading off the porch. Middle of the night, two stories up, and over fifty feet away and still I have no problem seeing that it’s Nick. He’s facing away from me, looking out over the yard, chin resting in his hand.

  All my thoughts and worries from a moment ago vanish as I look down on him. This is the first time since arriving that I have been able to simply watch him without having to worry about being caught and embarrassed. It’s a strangely liberating feeling. The longer I watch, however, I’m more certain that something is bothering him. It may seem strange considering the physical distance between us, but for me it’s as clear as if he were sitting next to me. True, I can’t see his face, but the way his shoulders are hunched—not to mention the late hour—tells me more than his face ever could.

  He’s lonely.

  An unexpected wave of emotion comes over me as I feel a strange connection to him. He has his sister and brother-in-law and his friends, and probably countless others I’m not even aware of—but he’s somehow as alone as I am.

  With that realization comes another: I have to do it. I have to take the leap.

  As he hops off the rail and walks back into the house, I feel like an invisible weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve made the decision; the war is over. Emotion has won the battle. I’m going to take a risk, and chance my happiness. I have to. If I don’t, I will always regret it.

  I go back to bed and lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Now I can actually do some constructive thinking. My first thought is that I need to strap on a pair of wings this time. Disturbing as the creepy godmother of my dream had been, she had a point: I have to take advantage of the opportunity I’ve been given and stop waiting for my problems to fix themselves. If someone is going to mess up my life, it might as well be me.

  Suddenly, I feel empowered, like nothing can take me down. Almost like I can walk down the hall and knock on his door, right now!

  On second thought, maybe not the best idea.

  First things first—I need a plan. A new one, actually. What is this, number three now? Oh well. Love is a process, not a science.

  I should probably start off slow, and take the less-is-more approach. There’s no need to make this more embarrassing than it needs to be. I’ll start out observing, to see if his demeanor toward me has changed at all. Shouldn’t be hard to pick up on; his overall behavior has been the textbook definition of passive. I’ll wait for a change in him. If I don’t see one, I’ll abandon the whole idea. Moreover, I’ll strictly stick to observing without analyzing. Analyzing can get way out of hand, and that will lead to trouble. I’ll simply gather up observations, and then systematically analyze them as a whole.

  Luckily, I’ll have all day tomorrow to focus on my observations without having to worry about anything work related which, ironically, is all thanks to Nick. When we got back today, he absolutely insisted we push back the inspections and any other work until at least Tuesday, to give Bree some time to heal.

  My stomach hits the floor. Bree.

  Damn! I’d forgotten all about her. All about them.

  I start to panic as practicality and sense rear up, threatening to rip off my wings and crush my new plan before it even gets off the ground.

  Okay, calm down. I may have made more out of situations than there really is. Maybe that’s true of the whole Bree and Nick thing too. Maybe in this case, instead of seeing only what I want to see, I am seeing only what I don’t want to see. It’s possible, right? I’m sure mental blocks don’t just work in one direction.

  Have Nick and Bree been flirting? Yes. Has it been enough to make the people around them take notice? Yes again, but not to a horrible extent. Not to the point where people don’t want to be around them, or feel annoyed or nauseated by their presences. Well, other than me, but that is obviously a special circumstance.

  Now that I think about it, maybe it hasn’t been flirting at all. They have been together a lot and seem to enjoy each other’s company, but Nick is a friendly, charming guy, and who else is there for him to turn his attentions to? Derek, Rob, and Chris are guys, Cathy is his sister, Margaret is much too old for him, so who’s left? Other than me, Bree is the only one. Why wouldn’t he show her special attention? She is great company. I’m sure, had I not been so engrossed in my thoughts, I would have realized that Nick hasn’t been paying any more attention to Bree than he has Margaret or Cathy. I’ve just been so focused on him and Bree, considering her to be my only—for lack of a better word—competition, that I didn’t notice.

  I almost laugh at myself. How stupid can I be? There’s nothing between them at all! What have I been thinking? Have I really been letting my imagination run that wild? I was even dreaming about their kids for God’s sake!

  I roll over, feeling much better and utterly exhausted. This will work. It has to. Tomorrow will be the beginning of a new Julia. A risk taking, future making, magic wand-waving chick, who is done waiting around for her life to fix itself.

  Julia Lee Basham: Personal Fairy Godmother.

  An image of myself in a sparkly dress and wings pops into my head just before I fall sleep.

  10

  THE NEXT MORNING IS DREARY and overcast, but I couldn’t care less. This is the first day of my new life. A life where I take the reins, make my own curfews—no “by the stroke of midnight” for me, thanks—and make my own dreams come true. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good. It’s like there’s been this ominous dark cloud made up of regret, self-loathing, mundane aspirations, and other random depressing crap floating over my head for years, and this morning it’s finally gone, leaving me with my first glimpse of clear blue skies. The sun is bright, the birds are chirping, and there’s nothing but proverbial clear skies ahead.

  Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a little. Don’t get me wrong; I’m confident in my new plan, and I do feel liberated and excited, but that doesn’t mean there are absolutely no doubts in my mind. It’s funny how an idea can seem totally flawless at night, while the next morning…not so much. Maybe it has something to do with the sun; I’m not sure. All I know, is I am definitely more nervous about all this than I was at one in the morning. However, doubts or no doubts, I’m not going to let anything sway my decision. My happiness is up for the taking, and I plan on doing just that. This fairy godmother is ready to roll!

  I start to get ready, and realize I still have the bandage from yesterday on my hand. I take it off and look at my sting for the first time since the ER waiting room. Not bad. The swelling is almost gone, and the sting itself has faded to a dull pink. At any rate, I don’t think anyone will notice. I brush my hair, throw my clothes on, and make my way down the hall to Bree’s room.

  I knock lightly on her door. “It’s Julia.”

  “Come in!” she calls. It almost sounds like she’s laughing.

  I open the door to find her sitting on the seat of her bay window with…Chris?

  “Good morning,” I say, slightly surprised. Nick seems to have left her side for a moment, which is a nice change of pace. “I guess you don’t need help down to breakfast after all.” I smile at Chris who nods a hello.

  “Nick had to go out this morning, and he asked Chris to look after me while he’s gone.”

  Ah.

  “How are you feeling?” I glance at her leg. “It looks like some of the swelling has gone down.”

  “It has.” She pulls her pant leg up a bit. “It feels much better. Hurts to the touch and it’s hard to walk, but otherwise the pain is almost gone.”

  “Good,” I say with a smile, knowing they gave her some serious painkillers.

  “Shall we go down?” Chris asks, standing. He turns to Bree and helps her up, while I get her cane from the foot of the bed.

  “Just let me use the restroom first.” Bree steadies he
rself and hobbles toward the bathroom.

  “Do you need help?” I ask, pretending not to notice Chris blush at the idea of me helping Bree pee.

  “No, I think I can handle it. I’ll call if I need you.”

  Chris and I both take a seat on the edge of the bed.

  After a moment, he asks, “How’s your hand?”

  I look up startled. “How did you know about that?”

  “Nick told me last night.”

  Nick was talking about me? Why? Where was I? Was he concerned? Does concern equal feeling? Okay, calm down. Remember, no analyzing, just observing.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” I say, forcing myself back to the conversation. “The cream the doctor gave me was good stuff.” I hold out my hand for him to see. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” I add, just to make sure he didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else about it. Though with Chris, that was a shallow worry.

  “You were really great yesterday on the beach. We were really lucky you were there.”

  “Thanks, but it was no biggie. My sister was stung once when we were on vacation as kids, and I remembered what to do. So how did you get put on babysitting duty?” I grin, trying to change the subject.

  “I offered. Nick and Derek were on their way out this morning when I heard Nick saying how bad he felt leaving with Bree hurt. I told him I would keep her company until he got back. I think he feels really bad about all this.”

  We hear the toilet flush, and a few moments later Bree comes limping out. “Okay, let’s go!”

  As we help Bree down the stairs, I can’t help but smile to myself. Chris has unwittingly told me exactly what I wanted to hear. One, that Nick had spoken—and thereby was thinking—of me yesterday, and two, he confirmed that Nick felt guilty about the incident. Granted I already knew that, but it only proved that his current attentions toward Bree were guilt, and not romantically driven.

  Yay!

  When we get downstairs, we find Derek in the main hall, coming from the direction of the kitchen.

  “You’re back? That was fast,” Chris says.

  “Yeah, the office was closed. We brought coffee though.” Derek motions toward the kitchen, then turns to Bree with a smirk. “How are you feeling, hop-along?”

  “Good, just a little sore. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Good to hear. You should probably sit though. Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Aren’t you coming?” Bree asks, as he continues toward the front door.

  “Just a few things to get from the car. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “You need help?” Chris asks.

  “You help Bree to the kitchen. I’ll help him,” I say, turning and following Derek outside.

  One of the cars is pulled up to the front of the house, and I see several bags across the backseat.

  “Thanks,” he says, handing a few of the bags to me.

  “No problem.”

  “So, hot chocolate over coffee?”

  “What?”

  “Your drink order. No offense, but I always assumed that Starbucks only carried hot chocolate for kids.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  “Okay, you’ve lost me…”

  “When Nick ordered the drinks this morning, there was a peppermint hot chocolate. I asked whose it was, and he said it was yours. Wasn’t it?”

  “Oh…yes, sorry. You caught me off guard, so I didn’t follow. Yep, that’s mine.”

  Oh my God…he remembered my drink.

  I haven’t even seen him since last night. He never asked me what I wanted, and he remembered! It is completely ridiculous that this little detail could make me so happy, but it does! He remembered! As I follow Derek back into the house, fuzzy butterflies are fluttering in my chest. We file into the kitchen and find everyone there, talking and sipping their drinks. I place the bags on the far counter, and turn my attention to the to-go drink trays sitting on the table. There is only one drink left, a grande peppermint hot chocolate. I grin and bite my lip as I feel my cheeks go red. I take a slow sip immediately as I turn and sit at the table, so at least my hands and the cup are covering half of my face. I quietly, listening to the conversations going on around me, and feeling better and better about my new plan. Maybe it’s only because I’m consciously looking, but I can already see a definite change in Nick. Before I can think too much into it however, I stop myself. No analyzing, that was the rule. I’ll analyze later. For now I just have to sit back, observe, and enjoy my peppermint hot chocolate.

  I climb into bed that night, totally and completely on a love high. You heard me, love high. The kind of blissful, floaty happiness that radiates from every inch of you. You can feel it in your eyes, on your skin, in your smile—everywhere.

  Today had been wonderful. It was the first day since I found out Nick was to become our new client that I have been totally relaxed. Something was different. He was different. I was comfortable being in the same house with him. I didn’t have to fear meeting him in the hallway or getting stuck next to him in a group. He was friendly. Granted he’s been nothing but wonderful with everyone else all along, but not with me. With me he had been aloof and passive, where today he was warm and sociable. Oh, yes, there was definitely a change.

  That change is what has put me in an amazing mood. That change is what made up my mind to talk to him tomorrow. That change is the very best thing of all, because it proves I was right yesterday. There had been something in his eyes, it wasn’t all in my head, and this new, risk taking fairy godmothering plan was the right decision to make.

  Risky, emotional instinct: 1

  Boring, risk-less security: 0

  Yay!

  The only thing left to do now is figure out how this confrontation was actually going to happen. First things first, I will need to get him alone. Luckily, Margaret has taken care of that one for me; she has already asked Nick to meet her in the library after breakfast tomorrow to go over some estimates with her. All I have to do is beat her there and I can steal a few minutes with him. Even if I don’t have time to say everything I would like to right then, I can at least ask to talk to him alone later in the day. Then I can tell him how sorry I am, how wrong I was, and so on. I don’t want to plan out a speech exactly; it will only sound contrived and forced, when it should be heartfelt and natural. I’ll leave it to spontaneity. After all, risk and emotion have gotten me this far; no need to stop now.

  Before I even realize I have fallen asleep, my alarm wakes me up. The weather is just as horrible as it was yesterday, with the added pleasure of rain. For a split second I wonder if the weather could possibly be a bad sign, but I squash those thoughts immediately. No thinking like that allowed in my new life. Maybe a few days ago, but not now. Now I make my own luck.

  Breakfast is already started by the time I make my way down to the kitchen. The typical morning spread of bagels, fruit, doughnuts, and coffee is laid out on the island, and everyone is sitting, eating, chatting, and enjoying the morning. I slowly make my way over to the food, grab a jelly doughnut and a coffee, all the while casually scanning the room for Nick. I don’t find him, but I do see Margaret sitting alone in the corner, going through some paper work. Nick is probably already in the library waiting for her.

  My heart starts to hammer in my chest as I realize this is it. This is the chance I need. I set my coffee and doughnut down on the counter while my feet take me out of the kitchen and toward the library before I’m even aware of it. As the door to the library comes into sight, I begin to panic. Can I really do this? What if he laughs at me?

  No! Don’t wuss out! This is the plan, no backing out now!

  My hand is frozen on the library door handle, and I can’t seem to will it to move. Suddenly, I hear a voice approaching the door from the other side. My heart leaps to my throat and I take off running down the hall, through the foyer, and out the front door before even taking a breath. My heart pounds a mile a minute, and I stagger over to one of the huge white columns marking th
e main entry to the manor and slump against it.

  Great. Just great.

  I decide to take control, I make a plan, then when the perfect time comes to follow through, I run away like a spooked rabbit! I punch the column with a growl, thoroughly frustrated with myself.

  The rain seems to have let up for the time being, so I slowly walk down the steps to the driveway, taking a few deep breaths of the cool damp air. So much for my unwavering commitment to my new philosophy on life! One scare, and I’m right back where I started! God, what if he saw me!

  I make my way around the house, staring at the ground, trying to come up with a new plan. Or better yet, come up with a way to salvage the old plan. As lame as that last move was, it doesn’t mean that I have to give up altogether. I can go back to the house a little later and try to catch him after his meeting with Margaret. Or maybe I could get him alone for a minute or two later tonight after dinner. Sure, why not. There are still plenty of opportunities. The real question is how do I keep myself from losing my nerve again once another opening arrives? As much as I hate to admit it, the anti-godmother from my dream was right about one thing: I’m not the best at taking advantage of the opportunities that are given to me.

  Lost in my thoughts, I turn onto the path that leads around the back, where there is a small bench tucked against the side of the house—basically somewhere I can sit and hide for a while. I turn the corner, look up and stop short, heart once again in my throat.