by Verna Clay
*
Tooty, having birthed four children, knew her little girl would be born within a day or two. To her, being loved passionately by Miles Brightman and bearing his children was the stuff of dreams. When she'd become his personal assistant years earlier and fallen crazily in love with him, so much so that she'd blackmailed him into marrying her, she had not fathomed the joy they would share. Of course, before she'd discovered that he loved her as much as she loved him, she'd felt so guilty of her action that she'd decided to release him from their marriage. What she hadn't known was that he'd planned to reveal his love in a big way with the release of his latest book. The dedication, written for the world to see, left no doubt as to his feelings for her, and she'd accidentally discovered his poetic words before the book was released. The revelation had forever removed any doubts they'd harbored about each other.
Her cell phone rang and she looked at the caller ID—Julie—her best friend since forever. "Hi girlfriend. What's up?"
Julie sounded serious. "I just talked to Sarah who got a call from Dixie who said Marsha Walden, a nurse at the hospital, came in for coffee and told her privately that the gal working for Dirk just had a miscarriage."
Tooty sat down. "Oh, no. Did she say how Monica is?"
"She told Dixie that she's okay physically, but not taking it well emotionally. In fact, she said it was pitiful the way she kept begging Doc Jones to make the baby live."
Tooty caught her voice on a sob. "What about Dirk? I suppose he knows."
"According to Marsha, he hasn't left her side since they came in yesterday afternoon."
"I should go see her."
Julie said, "Ah, Tooty, maybe that's not such a good idea with you being pregnant. It might make her feel worse."
"Oh, you're right. How insensitive of me."
Julie huffed, "You're not insensitive, sweetie. In fact, you're the most sensitive person I know. Just the fact that you want to comfort your husband's ex-girlfriend proves it."
"Do you think it would be okay to send flowers?"
"Yeah. In fact, why don't we all send flowers? I'll call Sarah, Dixie, Ann, Molly, Tawnie, Sally, and anyone else I can think of."
"Okay. By the way, how are you feeling?"
"Couldn't be better. You?"
"I think this baby will be born in the next day or two."
"Well as soon as you head to the hospital, let me know."
After Tooty hung up, she got her first real contraction.
*
Flowers started arriving for Monica the afternoon after the miscarriage. Dirk had already hand delivered a huge bouquet, so the arrival of other arrangements surprised her. They were lovely and it was sweet of the girls and their families to send them, but she barely glanced at them. Her body felt sore, her emotions felt drained, her mind felt confused, and her spirit felt dead. When Doc Jones came to check on her, she forced herself to ask the question that wouldn't give her rest.
Tears filled her eyes. "I've been sleeping with a man." She didn't name Dirk, but she could see in Doc's eyes that he knew who it was. "Is that what caused me to lose my baby?"
The kindly doctor lifted her hand off the bed and patted it. "I'm often asked that question when something like this happens and the answer is no. That had nothing to do with it."
About that time, another flower arrangement arrived and the nurse said cheerfully, "Goodness, where are we going to put this one?"
That afternoon and throughout most of the night, Dirk stayed with her and assured her Tessa was fine and staying with Shauna's family. "She's anxious for you to return home, honey."
By morning Monica had made her decision for her future.
When breakfast carts were rolled into the hallway she heard nurses chatting amidst the rattle of trays. "Did you see the new Brightman baby? She's adorable. I wonder if Tooty and Miles are going to stop with five children?"
The other nurse laughed. "As crazy as those two are about each other, maybe not."
Monica was startled by how the news affected her. She felt no jealousy. She only wanted the best for Tooty and Miles, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was going to locate the nursery and see that baby.
While the nurses and aides were distracted delivering trays, she slipped from her bed, pulled on her silk wrap and slippers that Dirk had brought, and walked in the direction she thought was the nursery. When she reached another wing and saw an arrow pointing down an intersecting hallway with a sign indicating, "Birthing and Nursery," her pulse jumped and then pounded. A short walk brought her to a window with views of newborns. Three babies occupied clear bassinets, two with blue blankets and one with pink. The placard written BRIGHTMAN confirmed Miles and Tooty's baby was wrapped in the pink blanket.
For long seconds she stood mesmerized by the tightly wrapped bundle and when the baby did a sweet sucking motion, followed by a little squall, Monica smiled. Movement next to her alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone.
Miles said, "Hello, Monica. I don't have words to express how sorry I am." He didn't elaborate and for that she was glad. She glanced from the baby to him in his wheelchair and said sincerely, "Miles, I am so happy for you and Tooty. Your baby is beautiful and…and I want you to know how sorry I am for everything I did to hurt Tooty all those years ago. If ever there was a perfect match, it's the two of you." The baby's squall turned into a big cry and Monica and Miles laughed. She asked, "Have you named her yet?"
"Yes. Her name is Sunny Beatrice."
Before Monica could tell him how much she liked the name, motion in the hallway caused her to glance up. Dirk was quickly approaching with a worried expression. She lifted her hand and said, "It's okay, Dirk. I had to see the baby." She looked back at Miles. "Do you think I could see Tooty?"
"Of course."
Monica intended for her visit with Tooty to be twofold. First, she wanted to congratulate her on her baby and second, she wanted to put all the demons from her past to rest by apologizing one last time and saying goodbye. It was time for her to move on. She was going to take the New York job.
Tooty, ever gracious, accepted her congratulations and apology with the sweetness that was…Tooty. She didn't try to change Monica's mind about moving back to New York, but when Monica turned to leave, she said, "I hope you know that our coffee clique won't be complete without you."
Monica's heart constricted. "Thank you, Tooty. I'll always remember you and the girlfriends."
Chapter 20: Recollections
Newt assisted Monica and her bags to the curb checkin for her airline. In less than two hours she would be flying back to New York and back to a life she was familiar with. That reality made her want to weep. However, for the past three days, since leaving the hospital, she had hidden her feelings. Oh, everyone knew she was heartbroken about the baby, but otherwise she had convinced them that she was overjoyed to be returning to New York to begin a new job with a prominent design company.
Turning to Newt she gulped and bid him farewell. "Goodbye, Newt. Please give Molly a hug from me."
The old cowboy's eyes misted and he smiled sadly. "I surely will, Miz Monica." He seemed to consider his next words. "It ain't none o' my bizness, but I jes gots ta say what's on my mind."
Monica didn't want to hear what he had to say, but nodded because she knew he wouldn't be deterred.
He adjusted his hat, scratched his clean-shaven jaw on a face weathered and wrinkled from decades of ranch work and acquired wisdom, and Monica tried to absorb every detail for later recall.
"Ma'am, since you come ta Dirk's ranch, he and Tessa have perked up somethin' fierce." He pulled on his ear. "Hell, I'm jes gonna flat out say it—Dirk and Tessa love you! And I got the feelin' Dirk wants you to be more'n a housekeeper." An unnatural pink suffused his face. "Ah, ma'am, I meant that in a most respectful way. What I'm sayin' is maybe you should stick around a little longer; see how things work out."
Monica lifted a finger to his lips to still his words. "Newt, I can appr
eciate what you're saying, but I'm not the right woman for Dirk or the mother for Tessa. We're so different it's…" She tried to think of a word and then smiled slightly. "…scary."
"No, ma'am. You're…"
Monica increased the pressure on his lips. "Shh."
Graciously, Newt nodded and stopped talking. Monica reached to hug him and then turned and swiftly entered the glass doors of the airport.
After receiving her boarding pass and going through the check in process, she ordered a cup of coffee, settled in for an hour's wait in the boarding area, closed her eyes, and allowed scenes from the past three months to envelop her: shopping with Tessa, cooking mac and cheese with Tessa, finishing the painting of Tessa's aquamarine wall, helping her pick out bedroom furniture, giggling with her like a schoolgirl, but also crying and reliving the pain of her own childhood.
Her heart then filled with more emotion when she thought about Tooty and the girlfriends: Sarah, Julie, Ann, Dixie, Molly, and others that occasionally joined their weekly get-togethers at Dixie's Cuppa Joe. The comradery and friendship the women had given was something Monica had never experienced. And when she thought about the girlfriends' husbands, she fingered a tear. The love of those men for their wives and children had given her a glimpse of what true family could be.
And the children—how she would miss the children: Toby, Preston, Hannah, Angel, and Maudie. And when Monica thought about Miles and Tooty's brood, she chuckled through her tears: Harris, Eli, Morgan, Austin, and now Sunny. Never, in all the years she had known Miles, had she envisioned him with children, and yet, he'd finally found peace with his large family.
Finally, she allowed herself to remember Dirk—tall, dark, handsome in a weathered cowboy way, sensitive, spiritual, and oh, so kind. Quickly, she reached into her purse for tissues to blot tears that wouldn't stop. I love you, Dirk. I love you so much I have to let you go.
The airline steward called over the speaker that first class passengers could begin boarding. No longer did Monica feel jealous of wealthy passengers. Coach class was fine with her.
*
Hours after Monica left, Dirk rode Cinnamon, his mare that had recently been returned from boarding with a neighbor, along the furthest boundaries of his property. He needed to air his head. Monica's insistence on leaving, and her refusal to listen to his declaration of love, had pissed him off to the point that he hadn't been there when she'd left, and he hadn't allowed Tessa to be there either.
However, from a distance, astride his horse, he'd watched Newt's old truck pull up beside his cabin and then leave a few minutes later. He'd followed the mountain trail watching the pickup until he could no longer see it, and then he'd cussed a streak of profanities.
Now, still roaming his land, he replayed his final confrontation with Monica the day before. He'd told her flat out, "I love you. And it's time for you to wake up and smell the coffee. You lost a child…" he'd forged on despite her tears. "…shit like that happens. My wife died." He'd paused while she composed herself. "But we have something special. And…" He waited until she looked at him again. "I can give you another child. Hell, I can give you as many children as you want. We can beat Miles and Tooty's record. We…"
She hadn't let him finish. "No. I'm not right for you. You don't know me." And then she'd slammed him. "Do you know why I called Miles when I needed a job?" She hadn't waited for him to reply. "Because before he met Tooty, we were lovers. And when I needed help, he was the only one I could think to call. I don't have friends, Dirk."
Her admission had shocked him. But he'd retaliated with, "I love you enough to forget all the men who came before me. And since when is it up to you to determine what's right for me?"
When she'd stood mute refusing to answer his question, he'd stormed away shouting, "All right, go back to New York. Throw your life away! Throw away something beautiful! Throw away…" He hadn't finished. He'd slammed out the door.
And now she was gone.
Chapter 21: Personally Recommended
Monica entered her office on the fortieth floor and sighed. Six weeks at her new job and she should be ecstatic that her boss was pleased with her performance. So pleased, in fact, that she had been upgraded from probationary employee to permanent. And just the day before one of her clients had called to personally speak with the head of her department. The woman had given a glowing report on the redecoration of her family room for the accommodation of ten children from a yours-mine-and-ours marriage. When Monica had first met with her to discuss the family's desires, the woman had just found out she was pregnant and positively glowed. She had jokingly said, "So, now I have nine children, and when you add the baby, it will be ten, and I couldn't be happier. However, we're living in chaos right now. Please help me design a functional room."
Redesigning the family room had been both torture and joy for Monica. The happy family made her realize how empty and alone her life was, but the children made her laugh, and she enjoyed the challenge of easing life for the mother and father.
Shaking away despondent thoughts she smiled when the department head entered her office. The amazingly handsome gay man whose life partner was a squat, bald, and poker-faced banker he'd been with for fifteen years, sat in the ergo chair in front of her desk and grinned. "So, my new friend, how's life treating you?"
"Hello, Tristan. It's treating me okay. I think I found an apartment. I'll know for sure later this week. I really appreciate being allowed to stay in the company's condo while I got back on my feet."
"Hey, no problem. Stay as long as needed." After chatting about the latest spread in Architectural Digest, he said, "Oh, I almost forgot. You've got a potential client coming in at ten."
Monica furrowed her brow. "I don't have anything on my calendar."
"This was a last minute thing. Tiffany took the call but he asked to speak with a manager so she transferred it to me. The guy specifically asked for you; said you'd been personally recommended by a friend."
"What's his name? Who's his friend?"
"All I know is he said his name is Derrick. Said he was in a hurry and couldn't chat, but he's looking for a complete redo of his place and money is no object."
Monica laughed. "Wow! Sounds like the perfect client."
"Yeah. So make sure you're available at ten. We're meeting in the showroom because he said he needs a slide projector. He wants you to see what he's talking about."
Monica said, "Too bad all our clients aren't so well prepared."
At five minutes to ten, Monica entered the showroom curious about a client who wanted a home makeover with money not being an object—and specifically requesting her services. She had done countless makeovers in New York and the surrounding area and wondered who had recommended her. Maybe it was the yours-mine-and-ours family.
Smoothing her suit jacket and skirt of whichever designer—she didn't care anymore—she stepped quietly into the room. Tristan, his assistant Sondra, and a backup designer, Carl, blocked her view of someone sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the "cozy" area where the viewing of a mechanically lowered screen could easily be seen.
Tristan glanced over and smiled and then stepped aside. "Monica, I'd like you to meet Derrick Branigan. I thought Mr. Branigan looked familiar, and come to find out, he's a rodeo champion." He laughed. "I was just telling him that my 'better half' loves rodeos and we actually saw him take first prize at the Painted Pony Rodeo in Upstate New York a few months back."
Monica must have looked faint because Tristan stepped forward. "Monica?"
Dirk, wearing black slacks, black boots, and a crisp white double-breasted cowboy shirt, and hatless, stood and said, "Hello, Monica. Derrick is my given name."
She rasped, "What are you doing here?"
Tristan and the others glanced back and forth between Monica and Dirk at the sharp tone of her voice.
Dirk continued, "Please hear me out. I want to redecorate my cabin and you're the best person for the job—in fact, the only person."
>
Monica's eyes widened and Tristan said, "Ah, Mr. Branigan, you said you brought slides." He was obviously trying to salvage the situation.
Dirk nodded. "I did. And please call me Dirk."
Tristan nodded to his assistant. "Why don't you lower the screen."
"Yes, sir."
Monica wanted to turn and run, but her desire to be near Dirk for as long as possible kept her standing immobile.
Sondra said, "Mr. Branigan, if you give me the slides I can get them going."
He repeated, "Please call me Dirk," and reached into his pocket to remove a packet. "They're in order."
Tristan motioned to the chairs and a divan. "Why don't we all have a seat and get started?"
Monica walked to the chair furthest from Dirk and stiffly sat on the edge.
Dirk returned to his same chair.
Carl sat on the divan and Tristan sat next to him trying to make small talk while Sondra got the slides going. "Dirk, you said your home is in Colorado. What brings you to New York?"
Monica's heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. Dirk looked at her. "Unfinished business."
Tristan appeared to be searching for a response when Sondra said, "We're ready. I'll just dim the lights." She punched a button on her console and the room darkened slightly. The image on the first slide popped onscreen and she moved a lever to focus in on a log cabin with a backdrop of forests and mountain peaks.
Involuntarily, Monica's hand shot to her heart and she inhaled sharply. Part of her wanted to run from the room and another part couldn't remove her eyes from the screen.
Dirk said, "This is my humble home outside of Paxtonville, Colorado."
Sondra handed Dirk the remote. "Here. You can control the rate the pictures change with this."
"Thank you." He clicked to the next photo. It was his living room with a view of his recliner and massive fireplace with its elk's head. "As you can see, I'm sadly in need of a designer's expertise. I was thinking a family portrait instead of the elk's head would be nice." He clicked to the next photo of his book shelves. "I did have some help in organizing my library. But I was thinking recessed shelving might be nice instead of these free standing ones."
