Another Chance to Love You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Sorry.” She followed him into the kitchen. “What are you fixing? Wieners and beans?”

  He set the bags on the counter, then turned to look at her. “I thought you liked wieners and beans.”

  For an instant, it seemed they were back in their old apartment near the Boise State campus. They were struggling to make ends meet plus find enough hours in each day to work and study and still spend time with each other. They’d eaten wieners and beans—an affordable meal—by candlelight more than once back then.

  Oh, how she’d loved him. She would have done anything for him. Anything.

  Suddenly breathless, she turned toward the cupboard. “I’ll set the table.”

  “Monica.”

  Reluctantly she faced him again.

  He stepped closer. “I wish you’d stop being nervous around me.”

  “I can’t help it.” She shrugged and tried to smile.

  “Why?”

  “You know why. I’m worried about Heather. This…having a dad around…is all new and different to her. At the moment, she’s excited by the novelty of it. But there are serious issues we haven’t discussed yet. We still have so much to work out before you go back to Chicago in the fall.” Monica stopped, swallowed the lump in her throat, then added, “She’s going to hate it when you leave. She loves you already, Daniel.”

  “I love her, too. And I know we’ve got lots of things to work out.” He moved even closer. “But is that the only reason?”

  “Reason for what?” She was held mesmerized by his gaze.

  “For you being nervous around me.” He leaned toward her.

  “Nervous?”

  His voice lowered a notch. “I’d like very much to kiss you, Ms. Fletcher.”

  Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” His lips brushed lightly over hers.

  Oh, she was positive it wasn’t a good idea. They shared a past but couldn’t share a future. She wouldn’t be unequally yoked with an unbeliever—and Daniel was most definitely an unbeliever. There was enough at risk, introducing Heather to her father, without Monica risking her own heart, as well.

  He cradled her face between his hands, tilting her head as he pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. The kiss was sweet, tender, alluring.

  And then the front door slammed. “Mama, I’m home. Where’s Dad?”

  Monica jumped out of his embrace. A guilty heat rushed into her cheeks.

  “We’re in the kitchen,” Daniel called in reply.

  Heather appeared a moment later. She dropped her backpack on the counter, then kicked off her shoes and slid them under the end table beside the family room sofa. “Guess what happened at school today?”

  Daniel grinned at their daughter. “Couldn’t possibly guess. Tell us.”

  Heather launched into her story, but Monica didn’t hear a word of it. Her thoughts lingered on Daniel’s kiss. Why had he done it? Unconsciously she touched her fingertips to her lips. Why had it affected her the way it had? It was only a kiss.

  She cast a surreptitious glance in his direction.

  She supposed a woman always harbored some remnants of feeling for the father of her child, no matter what else happened in the relationship. Was that what that kiss had been? Just a kind of nostalgia?

  Daniel burst out laughing, and Heather did the same. The joyful sound filled the kitchen, making it feel warm and cozy. Like a family.

  Monica would be making a terrible mistake to allow herself to fall under the spell of Daniel’s considerable charms. Any woman in her right mind would know that.

  Please, God, she prayed. Keep me in my right mind.

  Daniel’s jambalaya—made with ham, smoked sausage, onions, celery, bell peppers and rice and seasoned with bay leaves, mustard, cumin, garlic and thyme—brought rave reviews from mother and daughter alike. Daniel was pleased and amused by Monica’s surprise that he’d learned to cook something beyond wieners and beans in the last decade.

  After supper, father and daughter did the dishes, then Daniel helped Heather with her homework, a task he found as delightful as everything else he did with her. When Monica announced it was Heather’s bedtime, he knew it was a not-so-subtle hint for him to say good-night and depart, but he pretended not to understand. He wasn’t ready to leave yet. Only a small, silent house awaited him. He preferred to stay here…with Monica.

  There was no denying the attraction that crackled between them all evening. He felt it whenever they were close. He thought she must feel it, too, judging by the wary look in her eyes.

  That kiss had changed things.

  There’d been other women in his life through the years. He’d even been engaged to one of them. But right at this moment, he couldn’t think of any of their names or even what they’d looked like. He knew, beyond a doubt, it had been a long time since a simple kiss had affected him this much.

  Monica returned to the kitchen after seeing Heather to bed. She glanced nervously at Daniel before retrieving a bottle of chilled water from the refrigerator.

  He watched her tip her head back and swallow. He found the arch of her delicate white throat enticing and wanted nothing so much as to trace tiny kisses down its length.

  She lowered her head, met his gaze across the room, and he knew she’d read his thoughts by the way her eyes widened, knew she felt the same pull of attraction simmering between them.

  “You should go, Daniel.”

  He rose from his chair. “You feel it, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t you think we should find out what—”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “But why not?” He took a step forward. “We’re both adults.”

  She lifted a hand, stopping his approach. “Yes, Daniel. We are both adults, and that’s all the more reason why we must do the responsible thing. The moral thing. I’ve changed since you knew me, Daniel. It’s more important to me that I please God than myself…or you.”

  She meant every word she said, he realized.

  “Daniel, if I ever become involved with a man again, he’ll have to share my love of Jesus. To do otherwise would be an enormous mistake.”

  Anger stirred in his chest. “Why? Doesn’t your God love anybody but Bible-quoting Christians?”

  “No.” Her gaze was patient. “He loves everyone. Jesus loves them so much He died for each one of them. He died for you, too. All He wants is for you to let Him into your life.”

  Daniel released a harsh laugh, the rude sound telling her what he thought of her religion.

  She shook her head, her expression sad now. “That’s exactly why it would never work between us. You’ve rejected the one thing that means the absolute most to me, my faith in Jesus.” Tears glimmered in her eyes. “We have no future together, Daniel. Don’t try to pretend we do. The cost is too high.”

  He swore beneath his breath. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He felt like a jerk.

  Slowly he headed for the hall. In the doorway, he stopped and looked in Monica’s direction. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This is about Heather, not you and me. I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”

  Monica heard the front door close behind him as he left. The sound made her flinch.

  She hadn’t wanted him to leave. She’d wanted him to embrace her faith. She’d wanted him to suddenly see the light. She’d wanted him to want her so much he would also want God.

  For the first time in over a decade, Monica knew her heart was at risk, and she was scared to death of what the result might be.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, “don’t let me make that mistake. Help me.”

  “What’s wrong with you today, Fletch?”

  Monica glanced up from her day planner to look at Doug Goodman, the head of Solutions’ accounting department.

  He raised a hand. “Don’t try to say, ‘Nothing.’ We’ve worked together too long for that.”

  She offered an apologetic smi
le. Doug always was able to read her moods.

  Back when Solutions was expanding beyond a home-based business, she’d hired him to work for her. Before his first week of employment was out, he’d asked her on a date. She’d found him warm and funny, and she’d enjoyed his company immensely. But it had become quickly apparent she was never going to take a serious interest in him. Not in the romance department. After a while, they’d become trusted friends.

  “It’s Heather,” she answered him now.

  “Is she sick?”

  Monica shook her head. “It’s her father.”

  “Her father?” Doug’s expression changed from concern to curiosity. He’d always understood this topic was out of bounds, and he’d honored her silence. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested.

  “I…I’ve told her who he is. In fact, they’ve met each other.”

  “And?”

  She rose from her chair and walked to the window. “They’re getting along well.”

  He tapped the tip of his pencil against the palm of his hand, waiting. Doug was a patient man.

  Monica glanced over her shoulder. “Daniel Rourke,” she said in answer to his unspoken question.

  “The Daniel Rourke? The writer?” He whistled. “You sure know how to keep things close to your vest, Fletch.”

  “We were engaged in college.” She paused, then added, “He didn’t know about Heather. I never told him I was pregnant.”

  Doug came to join her at the window. He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her one of his searching looks. “This has you tied in knots, doesn’t it?”

  She felt ridiculously close to tears.

  He cupped her chin with his hand, tilting her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I see,” he said after a long silence.

  And she was afraid he did.

  “Fletch, I always wondered why you didn’t fall head over heels for me.” He gathered her closer, let her press her face against his best suit, even though he knew she was going to cry.

  Her reply was muffled. “Accountants were never my type.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He kissed the top of her head.

  The tears came in earnest then. She sobbed quietly while Doug stroked her hair and murmured comforting promises that all would turn out well. It didn’t matter if either of them believed the words. It was enough just to say and hear them.

  At long last, she drew back from the solace of his embrace. She sniffed, then offered him a weak smile. “I hope I didn’t ruin your suit.”

  “So do I.” He leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk. “Here. You need this. You never look your best with black stuff under your eyes.”

  “Thanks a bunch.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  While Monica tried to remove the smudged mascara with the tissue, Doug returned to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. He didn’t say anything until she sat down on her own chair.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” he asked.

  “About what?”

  “About these feelings you’ve got for Mr. Rourke.”

  She looked at her hands, folded atop her desk. “Nothing.”

  He leaned forward. “That would be a mistake.”

  “There’s no future for us, Doug. Daniel never wanted the same things I did. He didn’t want a home and family. He wanted success, and that’s what he got. He went off to Chicago and made a name for himself.”

  “But he’s here now, isn’t he?”

  “Only for a few months.”

  “Are you still in love with him?”

  Her pulse quickened as she looked at her friend. “How could I love him? Until two weeks ago, I hadn’t seen him in eleven years. I don’t even know who he is now.”

  “Maybe this is something new.” He shrugged. “There’s such a thing as love at first sight.”

  “Not for me,” she whispered. “Not with a man who isn’t a believer.”

  He waited a few moments, then asked, “Are you sure, Fletch? Are you real sure?”

  Are you sure, Fletch? Are you real sure?

  Monica stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror while Doug’s words echoed in her mind for the thousandth time that day. As always, her silent reply was, No. No, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t know what she thought or felt or wanted.

  But love at first sight?

  It wasn’t a possibility. It couldn’t be. Otherwise, she would have fallen victim to it years ago. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had opportunities. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been men willing to get serious. Yet Monica had never felt drawn to any of them. Not even to Doug, who was one of the nicest, sweetest, most intelligent guys she’d ever known.

  But now, here was Daniel, and suddenly she was feeling and thinking like an emotional teenager. It was crazy. She was too practical for such nonsense.

  She turned away from the mirror, and her gaze fell on the copy of Daniel’s book on her night table. She walked across the room, picked up the book and turned it over to stare at the photo on the back of the dust jacket. Her heart fluttered as Daniel’s image stared up at her.

  She’d been reading his book at bedtime. It was good. Daniel was more than a competent writer. The case was one of those sensational media events, and many writers had covered it adequately. But it was Daniel’s extraordinary talent that made his articles so hugely popular at the time and this book such a blockbuster hit now. His writing provoked her to look at things in a new light. It caused her to seek to understand different points of view. It drew her into the emotional part of the story while forcing her to look objectively at the facts.

  She’d never guessed, back in college, that he would be this good.

  “I don’t know who you are, Daniel. How could I possibly fall in love with you again? It would be wrong for us both.”

  The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts.

  “I’ll get it!” Heather yelled. A moment later, she called, “It’s Daddy. Are you ready?”

  Monica put the book down, then looked once again in the mirror. “Am I ready?” she asked her reflection.

  “Mama?”

  “I’m coming.” With a deep breath, she reached for her purse and headed out of her room.

  Daniel waited at the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the banister while he listened to Heather’s excited chatter. When he heard her footfall, he glanced up. A hint of a smile curved the corners of his mouth.

  She smiled back at him, unable to keep herself from thinking how handsome he looked. He wore tan cotton trousers and dark brown loafers. His pale yellow, short-sleeved shirt looked good against the tanned skin on his arms. Was it any wonder women had made such a fuss over him at his book signing two weeks ago?

  We’re only friends, a small voice in her heart commanded. That’s all. Just friends.

  “You look terrific,” Daniel told her, admiration sparking in his gray eyes.

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Ah-huh.”

  He looked at Heather. “You know, squirt, it’s been over twenty years since I went to a school carnival. Back then, I wouldn’t’ve been caught dead going with a couple of girls.” He winked. “Guys sure can be stupid.” He offered his left arm to his daughter. As he turned toward Monica, he added, “Can’t they?”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “They sure can, Mr. Rourke.”

  Daniel had vowed to himself last night that he wouldn’t do anything to spoil this evening, not for Heather or Monica. He was determined to be as charming, good-humored and gentlemanly as he knew how while still not crossing the invisible line in the sand Monica had drawn between them.

  He’d spent a sleepless night, thinking about what she’d said before he left her place.

  If I ever become involved with a man again, he’ll have to share my love of Jesus.

  Well, that ruled Daniel Rourke out. He wasn’t a churchgoing man. Didn’t have the time for it. Didn’t see t
he percentage in it.

  All He wants is for you to let Him into your life.

  Over the years, Daniel had written stories about people who shared the same Christian faith, the same beliefs, as Monica. He didn’t mean the ones who just went to church on Sunday morning for an hour or two. This faith thing went deeper in the people he remembered. They were the sort who lived what they believed. Some of their stories—which were the reason for his interviews—about ripped his heart out, yet these people had a kind of peace in the midst of turmoil that he couldn’t understand.

  He’d seen that same thing in Monica last night. Even when she cried, there’d been a peace about her. It almost made him wish he could believe what she’d told him. Almost.

  But he couldn’t. He didn’t. So he would respect her line in the sand. He would be on his best behavior, so help him he would.

  The elementary school halls were jam-packed with people of all ages, from toddlers to octogenarians. Like the surge of the tide, people were pushed and pulled from one classroom to another. Daniel hadn’t been in this much of a crush since the day of the Henderson verdict.

  “They’re doing face painting in here,” Heather announced as she tugged on his hand. “Come on.”

  He followed his daughter into the room. Three artists were painting the cheeks of children. A sign announced numerous choices of design. “What are you going to get?” he asked Heather.

  “I can’t get one before I read my story at the ceremony. Mrs. Connolly, the principal, said we couldn’t. But you can.”

  He shook his head. “Hey, I don’t think—”

  “Come on, Daddy,” she pleaded. “It’ll be cool.”

  He looked to Monica for help but found none. She was too busy trying to suppress her laughter…and failing miserably.

  “They’ve got a pirate,” Heather continued. “How ’bout that one?”

  He raised an eyebrow at Monica.

  She gave him an innocent look. “Oh, I think you’d look very handsome with a pirate painted on your cheek. We’ll ask for a yellow bandanna to match your shirt. It’ll be dashing.”

  “Thanks a bunch.” He turned toward Heather, meaning to refuse, but the words died in his throat. “Ah, why not?” he muttered.