Second Chances

by H. M. Ward

  Instead of stopping in the living room, Daniel continues straight to the kitchen where he sits CJ in his highchair, making sure he's safely secured, before helping get the meatloaf and mashed potatoes on the table. He pulls my chair out, waits for me to sit, and then takes his own seat. Our conversation during dinner is as comfortable as it always is, Daniel tells me about his classes this week, and the houses he's had to visit to either maintain the landscaping or discuss new projects.

  He's so creative. He actually brought his portfolio over the last time he was here. We spent the entire night going over each picture, him telling me stories about the clients and how he came up with different designs. His landscapes look like works of art, much more elaborate than what he's done here. When I asked him why, he told me that my husband had told him to make it simple, something I could take care of on my own if needed. I don't think Daniel realized what he’d been thinking, but I did. Cade was making contingency plans in case he was deployed and didn't come home. He was always thinking ahead, planning for the worst even if he never said that.

  Daniel makes me laugh when he talks about his classmates and how his roommate smuggled a goose into the dorm. It escaped and chased a couple of girls down the hall, squawking its head off. I always forget that he's so much younger than me, because he doesn’t act like a twenty-two-year-old. Daniel is more certain of himself, and there’s something else too—the residue from life lingers on his shoulders the same way it does for me. It seems to close the age gap. I don’t know what tarnished him to make him seem older, or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it's from taking care of his sister for so long. He was forced to grow up much faster than he should have.

  Dan’s face is animated, his arms moving around, as he explains a particularly difficult customer, one who is never happy with what he does, even when it's exactly what she wanted. “If I can ever make that woman happy, I’ll die of shock.”

  "Maybe she just wants an excuse for you to come back," I say with a laugh. I can totally see that being the case. Not to mention, he's a young guy, who even though he's in college, owns his own business and works harder than anyone else I know. I bet every woman in San Antonio is after him. Just the thought makes me grip my fork tighter in jealousy even though he’s not mine.

  Daniel laughs, but I know I embarrassed him because a faint pink color races across his cheeks as he avoids my gaze. I start to apologize, but he waves it off. "Don't worry about it, Gen. You're probably right anyway."

  I smile up at him because he's never acknowledged the way women want him before. I don't say anything though, after all, what can I say? I'm one of them. With a shrug, Daniel starts to clear the dishes off the table, leaving me to take CJ up for his bath and to get him ready for bed.

  Chapter 13

  Once CJ is bathed and in bed, I head back downstairs to find Daniel sprawled out in the middle of the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms spread out along the back. Daniel's head snaps up when he hears me, and I feel self-conscious having him watch me walk towards him. Sitting beside him, I curl up on my side of the couch pulling my legs up underneath me, careful not to touch his arm resting on the back of the couch behind me.

  Once he's sure I'm comfortable, he hits play and one of my favorite movies, Casablanca, starts to play. I look over at him, my eyes wide in surprise, but he only shrugs. "You said the other day that you love this one and haven't watched it in a while. I've never seen it, so I picked it up on my way over tonight."

  For a few minutes, I'm speechless. I have no idea what to say. I'm surprised that he remembers a comment I made almost a week ago in passing, and that he volunteered to watch it. We sit, side by side, and soon I'm engrossed in the movie. About thirty minutes in, Daniel turns so that he's almost sideways, giving me an unobstructed view of his handsome face.

  "So, what’s the draw to this movie?" he asks, studying me seriously.

  His question surprises me. I don't think anyone has ever asked why I like this old movie, so I've never had to think about the reasons. I shrug, "I don't know." When he continues to study me, saying nothing, I stop to think about it for a second. "It’s romantic, but it’s real too. Life doesn’t go as planned, but somehow they find love anyway. And it’s nostalgic too. I watched these when I was younger and carefree—they remind me of the good times."

  He nods and turns back to the screen. Before I can ask, he turns back to me and says in a low voice, "I can't remember a time when I didn't feel like I was responsible for everything." I know I'm staring at him with wide eyes, afraid to ask him why because I don't want him to stop talking. After a few moments of silence, he continues, "I told you before that I have a sister," he pauses, and I nod my head. "She's younger than me by a few years. My parents used to argue all the time. My dad is a real hard-ass. Always telling my mom where she was allowed to go, who she could go with, and how long she could be gone. My mother was the type of person who would do things spontaneously, so she hated being collared like that. We'd be out shopping and she'd decide to stop at a park or an ice cream shop on a whim, never thinking about how he'd react.”

  The arm that's not resting along the back of my couch tightens into a fist as he remembers something. I reach out to take his palm in mine, trying to relax him. He looks down at our fingers entwined together and smiles softly before taking a deep breath. "One day, she just snapped. She was tired of him treating her like that and she just left. Melody and I came home from school and it was like she'd never been there."

  "Oh, Daniel," I start, but he shakes his head.

  "Don't feel sorry for me. I understand why she left. I just don't get why she never came back for us. Once it was just the three of us, my father started spending more time at work and leaving me to take care of Melody. Now, he's almost as hard on me as he was on her. The thing is, he got worse after she left. One day I got into his things, his prized collection of cats."

  My eyebrow shoots up. “Cats? As in stuffed kitty cats?”

  He laughs once, but it’s sad. “If only. No, he collects cat o’nine tails and other sailing crap from a million years ago. They usually go straight into a glass case, but one day I went into his office and it was just sitting on his desk. I picked it up to look at it. I knew the thing was a weapon, but I didn’t really get how it worked. Dad showed up and decided the best way to teach me not to touch his stuff was to show me how it worked.” He hikes up the cuff of his jeans and I can see the start of a scar. When he pulls them a tad higher, I can see more.

  My hand flies to my mouth in horror. He whipped his son? With a real whip? Those things rip the skin off. It’s worse than being whipped. “Oh my God.” My voice trembles as I stare at him slack-jawed.

  He yanks his pant leg down. “Now you know why I always wear jeans. It’s easier than to answer the endless questions about the scars on my legs.” He smiles sadly, staring into space, and then looks back over at me. "Now, he’s demanding that I go work for him when I'm out of school, but that's the last thing I want. I don't want him to ever be able to control me again. The only reason I still put up with his shit is so I can make sure Melody is okay."

  Daniel's arm has moved so that it's resting along my shoulder, his fingers rubbing small circles along my skin and raising goose bumps.

  It takes everything in me not to react to his touch, but I can't quite stop the way my body stiffens at the feel of his fingers. After a few minutes he moves his arm so that it's no longer touching me and I miss the feeling. It's been so long since a man touched me, since I felt this way about being caressed. The thought brings the feeling of ice rushing through my veins as I remember those last few minutes with Cade. Cade, who never would have sat through Casablanca with me without protesting loudly. God, he hated these kinds of movies. If it wasn't action, or suspense mixed with romance, he tuned it out.

  It feels like I’m being torn in two inside. I want to let go of my past, but there’s no way Daniel’s my future. I’m not even sure why he comes by day
after day. I dress like a slob, and the house is falling apart. No one can tell I have a cent to my name, and yet he comes back again and again.

  "Why are you here, Daniel?" my voice is quiet, but in the darkness of my living room, the only light coming from the black and white movie playing on my television, it sounds like a shout.

  His head whips around and his eyes meet my questioning gaze. He’s wary and a little unsure. The confident smirk that's normally on his face is gone. In its place is a young man who looks convinced he's about to be scolded. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, why are you here when I'm sure there's plenty of other things you'd rather be doing instead of sitting here watching an old movie with me?" I look down quickly; not wanting to see the relief on his face that I'm positive will be there, now that he knows he doesn't have to stay – that I don’t expect him to.

  I'm completely unprepared for his hand under my chin, lifting my face up to meet his earnest gaze. "Genevieve, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you.” He swallows hard. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  I shiver and feel as though a premonition hits me hard, but I nod. “If you like.”

  Glancing at his hands, he confesses, “I've had a crush on you since I was fifteen. I’m here because it’s my favorite place to be." When he looks up, our eyes lock. My heart pounds hard and fast. I can’t fathom what he’s said.

  Unable to do anything but stare wide-eyed at him, I don't pull away when he inches closer and closer—his eyes darting between my lips and my eyes. He’s careful and slow, giving me plenty of time to escape, but I don’t. Daniel lowers his face closer to mine and brushes his lips softly across the seam of my mouth. He’s hesitant and gentle as he moves, acting like he might spook me at any moment. When I lean into him, Daniels’s hand comes up to cup my cheek. The rest of the world and all my worries about my past, our age difference, and my late husband fall away under the soft pressure of his kiss.

  The tip of Daniel's tongue traces the bow of my lips, the sensation causing me to gasp and grip his biceps tightly. He takes advantage of my open mouth as his tongue darts in to touch mine. As our tongues tangle together, I slide my hands up and around his neck, pulling him closer. I'm expecting him to lay me down on the couch, so when his hands go around my waist, lifting me up and setting me down with a knee on each side of his hips and making me straddle him, I yelp.

  He breaks away from me long enough to chuckle before crushing his mouth to mine. It's rougher than the first kiss, more sure this time. It's insistent and passionate, making me feel sexy and beautiful—two things I haven't felt in a very long time. My hands are gripping his shoulders while his hands rest on my thighs, something that would normally make me feel very insecure, but somehow, even though he's running his hands up and down my legs, it makes me want to get closer to him.

  When his hands move back to my waist he pulls me down so I'm seated more firmly on his lap and able to feel how much he wants me. He doesn’t try to hide it at all. I whimper into his mouth and his hands tighten as they begin rocking me back and forth, guiding me until I get the rhythm. When I'm moving on my own, he starts sliding his hands up my sides until his thumbs rest just under my breasts, making me arch into him, begging for his touch.

  Daniel and I are wrapped up in each other, completely disregarding the world around us, until a sharp gasp brings us crashing back down to reality. Whipping my head up, I see my mother standing in the doorway to the living room, a hand covering her mouth in shock. Hurrying to stand, I straighten my shirt which has been pushed up to just under my breasts and pray I don't look as mortified as I feel. “Mom,” I gasp as I get to my feet.

  Daniel gets up slower and stands behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders in silent support. My mom stares hard at the spot where he's touching me, before finally meeting my eyes. I can see so many emotions tear through her in that moment—worry, anger, horror, and worst of all disappointment.

  "What on earth are you doing, Genny?" Her voice is shrill and shocked.

  My face flames in embarrassment, but before I can answer, Daniel says, his voice still rough from our make-out session, "Ma'am, with all due respect, we are both adults and what we were doing is our business."

  She practically vibrates with anger at his words. Walking closer, she grabs my hand and yanks me away from him so that I'm standing beside her. Then she points a finger at his chest. "You are barely an adult Mr. Clement, and I won't stand by and watch you try to take advantage of my daughter!"

  I'm looking back and forth between them; completely confused at the way she's decided to play this. "He is not taking advantage of me!”

  “Yes, he is, and he knows damn well what he’s doing.”

  Ready to pull my hair out, I screech, “What are you talking about, Mom?"

  Spinning around, she sets her glare on me. "I'm talking about him thinking that he can seduce you right out of the money that Cade left you. That boy—" she gestures back towards Daniel, who's staring angrily back at her "—is trying to spite his father, and thinks he can use you and your husband's insurance money to do it! All he has to do is get in your pants and it’s as good as his.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. “No, he wouldn’t…”

  “Genny,” Mom interrupts, “you were always naïve, but really, this? You know his reputation. Where do you think it came from?"

  I knew he had a reputation as a ladies man, but the guy is walking talking candy. I didn’t really think anything about it. What guy wouldn’t take advantage of super good looks? Besides, I can't believe he would do that, not until Mom tops her argument with the cherry that haunts me every time we’re together.

  “Think about it, dear. Why would a young, handsome guy spend so much time with a widow ten years his senior and her child?” Her gaze slips over my body, at the clothes I’m wearing, and I know I look frumpy. She says exactly what I’ve feared the most, that he could be using me for some reason. Maybe he saw a notice from the insurance company. He’s in the house enough that he could have seen a bank statement, that he could have figured it out.

  When I don't immediately defend him, Daniel takes a step towards me, his anger almost palpable. His eyes are narrowed, and his hands are both fisted at his sides. "Genevieve," he begins, and I flinch at his use of my full name. He stops, clearing his throat and squeezing his eyes shut for a second, before addressing me. "Gen, you know me. I would never do that to you, and I would never disrespect Cade that way."

  His voice rings with conviction and I want to believe him in the worst way. Sensing my wavering feelings, he reaches out to me, but my mom steps between us. Turning her back to him, my mother faces me, her mouth pinched in disapproval. "Genevieve Prior!" I stop looking around her and meet her steely gaze. "What are you thinking? Cade wouldn't want this. You deserve a man who will take care of you and CJ, not a boy who wants you to take care of him." She shakes her head and her obvious disappointment in me stings. "You are old enough to know better! Think of CJ! That money is for him to have a good life. You can’t let the help use you and walk off with it."

  "Now, wait just a minute!" Daniel seethes. "You don't know anything about our relationship. I don't care if you are her mom, that doesn't give you the right to talk down to her like that, and you sure as hell aren’t talking to me that way. I don't give a damn about how much money she has or doesn't have. Money is a non-issue for me—"

  Before he can continue, my mother holds up a hand. "I would prefer it if you left Mr. Clement. Don't presume to know my daughter or her feelings. In fact, I think it would be best if you looked elsewhere for lawn care clients." Putting an arm around my waist, she pulls me close to her so that we are standing united against Daniel. I'm so confused that I say nothing. Every worry I ever had about him races through my mind. I knew there had to be a logical reason he was here, and this is it.

  Or he loves you, the back of my mind whispers, but I can’t hear it. It’s so much easier to believe the worst. I can’t take ano
ther heartbreak and the words my mother planted in my mind took root.

  “Seriously? You’re going to believe this crap?” At first he thinks I’m going to blow it off, but when I don’t defend him, his spine stiffens before he curls forward ever so slightly—as if he were sucker-punched right in the stomach. The look he gives me makes my heart clench painfully in my chest.

  “Dan, how do I know? Just say it. Tell me why you’re here.”

  His jaw locks and he presses his eyes closed like he can’t stand the sight of me. Finally, he sucks in a chunk of air and shakes his head, his mouth twisted into a wounded smile. “I poured my heart out to you and this is what I get in return. You know what?" he asks, looking at both my mother and I, "I don't need this shit." He huffs out a dark laugh that’s more disbelief than anything else. Turning his angry stare on me, the look in his eyes causes me to shrink back into my mother. "I told you things I've never told anyone else. I thought I could trust you. Guess I was wrong." With one last look, he destroys me. "Have a nice life, Genevieve." Slamming the front door behind him, he's gone.

  He left.

  "Hmpf." Walking over to the couch, my mother sits on it, patting the seat beside her, letting me know she wants to talk.

  "No. Not now, and I swear to God if you ever do anything like this again—" I feel sick. My stomach tightens and churns. What if she’s right and he was after my money? But what if she’s wrong? I just let a great guy walk away, and not only that, I let him think I believe he was using me—that he’s a thief.

  “Like what? Point out the obvious? Come on Genny, you’re not a little girl anymore and that guy isn’t Cade. Just because he flirts with you and makes funny faces at CJ doesn’t mean anything.”

  I’m losing it. She should leave, but she just sits there. I start screaming. “What if you’re wrong? What if he does care? What if he really wants CJ and me? What then, Mom?”