This was . . . interesting. Damon stayed right where he was at the bottom of the stairs, though he could see from the glance he’d given Mickelle that she wanted him to leave.
The man registered no surprise to see him there, and Damon could almost swear this man knew him. Try as he might, Damon couldn’t place him in his memory.
“Hi,” the man said with a hearty confidence that Damon thought was faked. In fact, everything about the man was faked, including that stupid greasy smile and that cover-boy dimple.
“Colton,” Mickelle mumbled, sounding as though she would faint. “Uh, Colton, meet Damon Wolfe. Damon, Colton Scofield.”
“Hello,” Damon presented his hand.
The other man took it, grinning. “I guess you heard the good news.”
“About the insurance money? That must mean you’re the friend who figured it all out.”
“That’s me.” Beauty-boy beamed until Damon wanted to punch the grin right off his face.
“Nice going,” Damon said casually. “We—her family and friends—sure appreciate it. So where did you meet Kelle? I’ve never heard her speak of you.”
“We met for the first time on Saturday at a dance,” Colton replied. “One glance and I couldn’t dance with anyone else.”
This answer wasn’t one Damon had expected. His head swiveled to Mickelle and he read the truth in her eyes. They had danced together.
Burning jealousy consumed him, and a crushing hurt—a hurt that made it so he could scarcely breathe. All this time he’d thought Mickelle’s refusal of his marriage proposal was connected with her fears, but apparently she had no fears in relation to Mr. Cover Boy.
“I see,” he managed with a modicum of composure. “Well, good evening.” He didn’t even look at Mickelle. He was so furious that he feared he wouldn’t be able to control his emotions.
He sprinted angrily to the Mercedes, and pulled the door shut behind him. Inside, he slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Belle asked from the backseat.
Tanner stared at him, brown eyes full of worry. “Is it that guy?”
Damon forced himself to calm down. He hadn’t felt so angry since he’d learned that Charlotte had cancer. Was he losing Mickelle as he had lost Charlotte? Please, dear Father, he prayed. Don’t let that happen.
He was grateful for this relatively new aspect of his life—the praying. While he’d always believed in God, he’d never really believed prayers were heard until he’d been taught the gospel in Anchorage a little more than a year ago. Now the prayers were habit and immediately comforting.
“I’m okay,” he said after a while. His voice broke only a little bit as he added, “I’m just having a hard time convincing Kelle that she’s supposed to marry me.”
“Is she going to marry that guy instead?” asked Belle. “I mean, he’s really cute, but you’re better.”
“Looks don’t have anything to do with it!” Tanner nearly shouted. There was a loss in his face that Damon could read too clearly. They all needed Mickelle more than she knew, and her boys needed him, despite Bryan’s antagonistic attitude.
Yet maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should cut his losses and give up before his heart was trampled on too badly.
“You can’t give up,” Belle urged.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken that last part of his thought aloud. “I’m sorry, kids. I’m a little frustrated.” The reality was that he would never give up until Mickelle had married someone else. Perhaps this doggedness was what made him such a successful businessman.
“He even brought her another rose like last time,” Belle said disdainfully. She scowled at Mickelle’s porch, although Mickelle and her friend had already disappeared inside.
Damon held his breath. “Like last time?”
“Yes. Jeremy told me his mom met some guy on Saturday—it must be this guy—and he gave her that bunch of roses on the counter. Didn’t you see them?”
“I saw them.” Damon’s anger drained slowly away.
They were still parked at Mickelle’s curb, but Damon drew out his cell phone and dialed her number. Mickelle answered, sounding happy. “Hello?”
“The roses,” Damon said without preamble. “Did he give them to you?”
There was a brief pause, and Damon half expected her to laugh and tell him that he knew very well who had sent the flowers.
“Yes,” she answered softly. “It doesn’t mean . . . well . . .” He sensed there was more she wanted to say but wouldn’t. Whether because of Colton Scofield’s presence or because of the strain between them, he didn’t know.
“Enjoy them,” he growled, and hung up. He shouldn’t have done it, but he felt better.
At least now the oiliness of the man’s appearance made sense. Somehow he had intercepted Damon’s gift and passed it off as his own. Damon punched another set of numbers on his phone. “Hello, Keith? Damon here. Yes, I’ve got a little job for you.” He glanced at his children. “No, I can’t really discuss it over the phone. Could you come to my house, say around eight? No? Okay, nine. Good deal. See you then.”
“Can he bring his daughter?” Belle asked. Keith was Damon’s new attorney and he had a little girl Belle’s age.
“Not tonight,” Damon told her. “He’s having family night with his kids and then they have to get to bed.”
“Rats!” She settled back in the seat. “Oh, Dad,” she said as he started the engine. “Do you mind if I clean out my closet? There’s a whole bunch of stuff I can’t wear anymore. It’s just taking up room.”
Damon chuckled at how grown-up she sounded. “Do you need some bigger clothes?”
“Maybe.”
“Let me know.” He’d recently given a fashion consultant he knew a hefty amount of money to outfit the kids for school, but she may not have covered it all. Mickelle would know; maybe he could ask her to check over Belle’s wardrobe. She would probably agree—if she was still speaking to him tomorrow. At worst, he could take Belle to the mall and turn her loose. He sighed. At least Belle wouldn’t be wearing a bra any time in the near future.
Better yet, he would soon know the truth about Mr. Cover Boy. Keith with his connections would see to it for him, even if they had to use his investigator to do the legwork. He would get to the bottom of this mess.
* * *
Mickelle stared at the phone in her hand. Damon had sounded angry. She knew he’d been hurt by the realization that Colton was interested in her as more than a friend, and she wanted to let Damon know she wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with Colton. That if she’d been ready for any relationship, she would choose Damon.
Of course, by staying quiet she knew Damon would have no choice but to back off. Meanwhile, Colton was good company.
He had the boys charmed in a few minutes. Mickelle wasn’t surprised that Jeremy liked him—he liked everyone—but was amazed that Bryan did. He insisted upon hearing the story of the insurance money three times, and hung on the man’s every word.
He was also in awe of Colton’s sports car. “Can I ride in your Z?”
“Sure, why not?” Colton said. “If it’s okay with your mom.” He gave Mickelle an appreciative smile. “Honestly, this is the best roast beef I’ve ever eaten. You’re a wonderful cook.”
He was full of similar compliments that made Mickelle’s color rise. She constantly searched his face to see if he was teasing but saw only sincerity.
After dinner, Colton took them for a ride, stopping to buy them an ice cream cone. When they returned, it was later than she’d expected and she knew the boys had to go to sleep or they’d never wake in time for school.
“Go inside and get ready,” she told them. “I’ll be there in a minute for prayer.” This last she added so Colton wouldn’t ask come inside again. It had been a nice evening, but she was exhausted and wanted to sleep. She was also irritated that she hadn’t given the boys the lesson she had prepared for family night, though it
was really her own fault for inviting Colton. But what else could she do? He had seemed so lonely.
Colton insisted on walking her to the door. “I had a really wonderful time, Mickelle,” he said when they arrived on the lighted porch in full view of any peering neighbors. “I feel so comfortable with you, as though I’ve known you my entire life.”
“It was fun,” Mickelle agreed, not buying the line.
“You know what?” He caught her hand, rubbing it with his thumb. “I’m so grateful to the Lord that you were there Saturday night. I believe I was placed there at that time so I could help you.”
“I’m very grateful,” she admitted with a laugh. “Now all I have to do is figure out a way to invest the money.”
“Any ideas on that?”
He seemed genuinely interested so Mickelle answered, “My brother-in-law has a few mutual funds. I thought I’d look into that.” Then, remembering Damon’s comment, she added, “I’m not sure how successful he’s been.”
“I know a guy who’s been fabulously successful for me.” Colton pointed to his car. “I bought that new from the proceeds of two months. It was a little bit of risk, so I wouldn’t recommend something that bold, but he has plenty of other options. I could give you his name, if you want. Even go with you. He doesn’t charge for consulting.”
“Thank you.” Mickelle was glad to accept his offer. If she could begin to understand investments she wouldn’t need Jesse . . . or Damon. She could prove to them and to herself once and for all that she could take control of her own affairs.
“I’ll give him a call and see what he’s got open tomorrow. I doubt you’ll have your insurance money by then, but at least you’ll be prepared.”
“You don’t have to come with me to the meeting,” she said quickly, her free hand on the doorknob. Her other hand was still in his. “I’m sure you have to work.”
“I can make time. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you.” It seemed she’d repeated that word a dozen times.
“No, thank you.” He paused and tears welled in his eyes. “I appreciate what you did for me this afternoon. I needed to talk. Sometimes I miss my family so much that I don’t know what to do. I wonder if I will ever have such a wonderful thing again, or if my mistake with my boys will keep me from ever being truly happy.”
Compassion filled Mickelle. “I think you will. The Lord knows you and loves you. He’ll have someone prepared.”
“You’re right.” Colton brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it like one of the knights of old. “You know what?” His voice became husky. “I think that someone is you.”
Mickelle felt shocked, although in the back of her mind she suspected they’d been heading down this road since he had given her that wonderful bouquet of golden roses. Besides, she liked Colton. She liked how she felt when he was with her. There was no uncertainty, no fear of loss. Why was that? His terrible past only made her want to help him, to ease his loss. But a relationship? She’d tried that with Damon, and now she could barely see the man without having a panic attack.
“I know you’re confused,” Colton said. “I’m not a very patient man, but I’m willing to wait for you.” He kissed her hand again gently before releasing it and going down the steps. “See you tomorrow!”
She watched him drive off into the night.
Inside the house, she found the boys waiting for her, dressed for bed. “Colton’s nice,” Jeremy said, looking at his brother for confirmation. “He even told us he’d play soccer next time if he remembers to bring a change of clothes.” He frowned. “Damon never cared what he was wearing.”
Mickelle was also thinking of Damon, of his terse voice on the phone when he’d asked about the roses, and the hurt in his eyes earlier. She remembered their long talks. Oh, how she missed them already! She wished they could go back to where they had been before last Friday.
Before she realized she could lose him.
Yet by pushing him away, wasn’t that exactly what she had done?
One thing was certain: as flattering as Colton’s interest in her was, she would have to tell him the truth about her relationship with Damon. She didn’t know where she and Damon would end up in the long run, but Colton’s presence was only complicating matters. She felt gratitude toward him for obtaining the insurance money and, yes, sorrow for his loss, but that was all. I hope he understands.
She sighed, feeling better about the entire subject. Picking up the phone, she almost dialed Damon’s number to tell him she was thinking of him. But what would that mean? She couldn’t do it, not yet.
Instead, she waited until the boys were in bed and called her sister, Brionney, recounting the events of the past three days.
“Mom told me about the money,” Brionney said. “I wondered when you’d get around to calling me. Dang it all, you have to call me first! I’m your sister.”
“I’ve been a bit busy.”
“So it seems. I don’t know about this Colton character. Are you sure you can trust him?”
“I’m sure of that much, but I’m afraid he’s going to end up hurt.” Mickelle told Brionney about his boys and how she wished she could help him.
“That’s too sad. Hold on a minute; the twins are asleep, but I just have to check on them after hearing that.”
Mickelle chuckled. “That’s okay, I’ll let you go. I only wanted to talk to you for a minute. Thanks.”
“Any time.” Yet Brionney didn’t hang up. “What about you and Damon?”
Mickelle swallowed hard. This was what she had called to talk about, but now her pride—and her fears—were getting in the way. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “I think I might have hurt him too much. And I’m still afraid.”
“Damon doesn’t give up easily. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No.” Mickelle’s answer was quick. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I know you want to check on your babies. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”
Mickelle went into her room, still carrying the phone. She dialed Damon’s number, but hung up before it could ring. I need a psychiatrist, not a husband, she thought. Then she laughed. Damon would have loved that joke, and she was being an idiot. A complete idiot. And she had been since last Friday. More than anything she wanted to talk to Damon, to hear his voice. She called his number again, but the phone was busy. She dialed his cell, only to find he’d turned it off, and leaving a voice-mail wasn’t the same thing.
In her dresser she found Damon’s ring and slipped it on her finger. Since she’d removed her old wedding band her finger felt naked. Not so when she was wearing this ring. It was much heavier and larger than she would have chosen, but it felt right because Damon had given it to her.
That didn’t mean she was going to marry Damon, but it did mean she had to confront her fears, and search out the possibility of finding happiness with him. Tomorrow they would talk. Her heart beat a little faster at the prospect.
Would he forgive her? And what would she do about Colton?
Chapter Nine
The next morning Mickelle awoke early and made special pains to get ready for her talk with Damon. But Damon didn’t come to the door when he dropped off Belle. Instead, he waited in his car to see that she got inside all right and drove away. Mickelle was irritated all morning because her plan had gone awry.
As they finished getting ready for school, the boys steered clear of her instinctively, but Belle chattered away as if nothing were wrong. Mickelle was trying to read the obituaries in her renewed subscription of the Daily Herald, a morbid habit she’d developed after Riley’s death, and Belle’s chatter was interrupting her focus. Finally, Mickelle asked her—a bit more sharply than intended—to wait out on the porch for the neighbor children so they could walk to school.
“Aren’t you going to take us to school?” Belle asked, her dark eyebrows drawing together in consternation.
“It’s not cold today.” Mickelle glanced out the kitchen window to her garden, thinking
that an hour or two of work there should improve her mood.
“Yeah, but I got a heavy load.”
Mickelle set down her newspaper and hefted Belle’s bright red backpack. “Criminy child, what on earth do you have in here?”
Belle shrugged. “Just a few little outfits.”
Mickelle investigated and found a beautiful off-white satin and black velvet dress that she had only seen Belle wear once, two skirts, several pair of designer jeans, and a dozen tops. Hardly “a few little outfits.”
“What did you do, clean out your closet?” she asked, stuffing in several pairs of socks that had fallen out, and handing the backpack to Belle.
“Yes, I did.”
“Does your father know?”
“I told him last night.”
Mickelle stared hard at Belle. For all her apparent innocence, the child could tell a fib better than anyone she had met. But she also knew that Belle was on her best behavior because she wanted a horse for Christmas, or before then, if possible.
“I don’t know if I like the idea of you changing clothes at school,” Mickelle said, because she couldn’t see any other reason for Belle wanting to bring the clothes. Most likely, showing off outfits was the latest fad during recess.
“If I do, I’ll go into the bathroom and lock the door. Don’t worry.” Belle put her backpack on her shoulder and smiled. “So, you gonna take us?”
“Sure.” Mickelle didn’t know how Damon could deny this child anything. She certainly couldn’t. “Go get in the car.”
* * *
Damon was in a foul mood. He wanted to shake sense into Mickelle by telling her about the roses, and then kiss her until she clung to him with desire.
Yeah, right. He worried that she had already fallen in love with Mr. Cover Boy. But how could she?
Every time Damon had kissed Mickelle he knew she loved him, even though she wasn’t prepared yet to say the words. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, wincing as it hit the bruise that had developed from hitting it in the same place the night before. At least he wasn’t twisting the ends of his moustache.
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