Another Chance to Love You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  He saw that the door to Monica’s room was open wide. Even from the hallway, he could tell her bed was empty.

  He felt a stab of alarm.

  “Monica?” he whispered.

  No reply.

  He went to the living room, wondering if she might be out on the balcony and hadn’t heard his arrival. Halfway to the balcony door, he spied Monica, asleep on the couch.

  He switched on the lamp on the end table and stared down at her. She looked like an angel, he thought, with her golden curls forming a halo on the sofa cushion.

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  She opened her eyes. For a moment, she stared at him with a glazed expression, caught between dreams and reality. Then she blinked, and he knew she was fully awake.

  “You’re back.”

  “Sorry it’s so late. It couldn’t be helped.”

  She glanced at her watch, then sat up, pushing her hair away from her face. “It is late. You must be tired.” She stood. “You shouldn’t have bothered to come by until morning.”

  He stopped her, his hands on her shoulders. “I wanted to see you.”

  Then why didn’t you come home when you promised? Monica thought.

  She felt the threat of tears again. She didn’t want him to know, so she pressed her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Mmm,” he whispered as he brushed his mouth over her hair. “You smell good.”

  She drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

  “What did you and Heather do today?”

  “Went shopping.” She was pleased her reply sounded normal. “Heather bought a new short set to wear to the zoo tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no!”

  She caught her breath, waiting for him to explain.

  “I can’t go tomorrow, Monica.” He drew back, searching her face for understanding. “Charley wants a meeting at noon. I can go to church with you, but there’ll be no time for the zoo.”

  “You have to work on Sunday?”

  “Everything is heating up fast. We’re close to breaking the story. This is the biggest scandal that’s hit Chicago since gangsters ran things during Prohibition.”

  “You promised Heather.”

  “I know.” He released her, then raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “I know I promised. But it can’t be helped. Monica, this is a huge opportunity. It could very well be the best story of my career. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day.”

  “I’m not sure that will mean anything to Heather. She’s a little girl who’s been counting on going to the zoo with her dad.”

  He sighed. “I know that.”

  Monica hugged herself, warding off a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

  “I’ll make it up to her.”

  I’m sure you’ll try, she thought.

  “Monica, I am sorry.” He sounded weary, frustrated, perhaps even a little angry.

  She felt exactly the same way. “I know you are, Daniel.” She turned away. “You’d better go. It’s late and we’re both tired.”

  They attended an early Sunday service at a church located a few miles away from Daniel’s apartment. New in his faith and thirsty to understand more about the Lord, Daniel drank in the worship and the sermon like a man parched after a long trek across the desert. For that hour, he felt at peace. But when he had to leave Monica and Heather again—and he saw the looks of disappointment on both their faces—that fragile peace vanished.

  He shouldn’t have to feel guilty for doing a good job, he told himself several times. It was a man’s job to provide for his family. Once he and Monica were married and she and Heather had moved to Chicago, the responsibility for caring for them would be on his shoulders. He was a reporter, and a reporter’s job could be demanding at times.

  Still, the feelings of guilt persisted throughout the afternoon. And eventually he began to feel angry at Monica for the guilt he felt.

  They would be married soon. They would have a lifetime to spend together. He would take Heather to the zoo. More than once if she wanted. He wasn’t always going to be this busy. Once this story was done, he could relax a bit.

  In midafternoon, Daniel rose from his desk to stretch. He walked to the window and stared down at the Chicago River. Sunlight glittered over the surface of the waterway. It was a golden summer day to spend outdoors. A cloudless blue sky. A light breeze.

  He wondered if Heather liked cotton candy. Or feeding peanuts—or whatever it was they ate—to the giraffes. Had she worn that new short set Monica had told him about? He wondered what color it was.

  He checked his watch. He’d better get back to work if he wanted to be back at the apartment before dark tonight. He didn’t want to miss seeing Heather before she went to bed again.

  Why did he feel so guilty? All over America husbands and fathers, wives and mothers, sometimes had to work late or go into their offices on their days off. It was just the way it was. The coming of fax machines and e-mail and mobile phones and pagers hadn’t lessened the workload. They’d increased it. Everybody worked longer days, longer weeks. Daniel couldn’t expect to be any different.

  Monica should understand all of that. She owned her own business. So why had she looked at him with such accusing eyes? As if he’d betrayed her somehow.

  He shoved the image from his mind as he returned to his desk. He had to concentrate on his work. Monica was just going to have to understand.

  The nation’s oldest zoo, Lincoln Park featured naturalistic exhibits for its nineteen hundred mammals, birds and reptiles. Heather particularly enjoyed the big cats and the koala bears. Monica favored the exotic birds.

  But no matter what they were doing, no matter how wonderful Lincoln Park and the animals, no matter how perfect the weather, a corner of Monica’s mind—or was it a corner of her heart?—kept reminding her that Daniel’s work was more important to him than his promise to Heather.

  In the afternoon, they returned, once again, to an empty apartment. No sign of Daniel. No message on the answering machine. Monica wavered between heartache and anger, neither one of which she wanted Heather to see.

  While her daughter plopped herself down in front of the television, Monica went to the kitchen to prepare the two of them a light evening meal. She didn’t fix extra this time. She didn’t care if Daniel came back starved to death. He could jolly well fix his own dinner.

  Well, that settled it, she thought. She was more furious than hurt, and once she recognized her feelings, she longed to vent them. Since Daniel wasn’t around to receive the brunt of it, she took it out on the kitchen, banging dishes and pots and slamming drawers and cupboard doors.

  In Boise, Daniel had acted as if he wanted them to be a family. He’d seemed to enjoy spending time with Monica and Heather. He’d indicated he wanted something different from what he’d had these past eleven years. But now she couldn’t be sure he felt that way. He’d been called back to Chicago because of an emergency. Was this a temporary situation, or would it always be this way?

  She choked on an unexpected sob. She was scared. She would rather fly around the world twice than see them coming apart at the seams a second time.

  “Mama! Come quick!”

  Responding to the urgency in Heather’s voice, Monica rushed from the kitchen to the living room.

  “Look!” Heather pointed toward the television. “It’s Daddy.”

  Indeed it was. A still photo of Daniel filled the big-screen TV.

  “Turn up the sound, honey.”

  Heather obliged, and the newsreader’s voice filled the room. “Charles Cooper had no comment when asked what prompted Daniel Rourke’s return to Chicago recently, but according to one source, the seasoned reporter will soon have his byline once again in the paper. The general opinion on the street is that his return will be welcomed by the reading public.” A film clip followed, the reporter interviewing people on the street. “He’s one of the best, one
of the few honest guys in the media, if you ask me,” one man said. “Oh, I never missed a Daniel Rourke article when he was writing for the paper,” a twentysomething woman announced, “and I couldn’t put down his book about the Henderson case. He’s pretty cute, too.” “The morning paper hasn’t been the same without him,” a grandmotherly type said as she stared toward the camera.

  “And so,” the newsreader continued, “we say, welcome back, Daniel Rourke. Chicago has missed you.” The newscast continued with sports.

  Chicago has missed you.

  Heather turned down the sound again. “Wow! That was neat. Wasn’t it, Mama?”

  We miss you, too, Daniel.

  “Mama?”

  She shook off her thoughts. “Yes, honey, it was cool. You’ll have to tell your dad you saw it.”

  If he gets home in time, she silently added.

  As it turned out, Daniel did make it to the apartment before Heather went to bed, but he was too keyed up to pay much attention to what she told him.

  Not long before he left the newspaper office, he’d received what he believed to be the break of his lifetime. The last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. The story was ready to go, with some minor tweaking. Charley was waiting for him to send the final draft to him via e-mail attachment as soon as he had it finished.

  “As long as they don’t get wind of the real story until tomorrow,” he told Monica, “I don’t care what they say about me on TV.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He frowned at her odd question. “No, I don’t.”

  She shrugged and left the living room.

  He thought about following her, then turned back to Heather, who was seated on the couch, her legs curled beneath her. “I’ve got some work to do, squirt. How about if you tell me about the zoo in the morning?”

  “Whatever.”

  For a second, he thought she sounded like her mother.

  What was wrong with the two of them?

  Feeling out of sorts, he headed for the office next to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, then sat down at his desk, turned on the computer, and after it booted up, slipped the flash drive into the USB port.

  Nearly three hours later, he picked up the phone and called his editor. “Check your e-mail, Charley,” he said without wasting time for a greeting. “I just sent it over to you. Sorry it took a little longer than I thought it would.”

  “It’s still in time to make the morning edition.” Charley’s voice was riddled with the same excitement and anticipation Daniel felt. “Listen, Rourke, you’d better plan to be at the paper first thing in the morning. The television media’s gonna be swarming all over this place, looking to talk to you. And I imagine there’ll be a few government officials who’ll want a piece of your time, too.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I bet they will.”

  “Well, go celebrate with that fiancée of yours. How ’bout the three of us have dinner together tomorrow night? I’d like to meet this gal who stole your heart.”

  “Make it four of us and you’re on.”

  “Four?”

  “My daughter will be with us.”

  “Okay, four it is. I’ll make reservations.” There was a pause, then, “Rourke, great job. I mean it.”

  “Thanks. See you in the morning.”

  He hung up the phone. Celebrating sounded good. He’d like nothing better than to snuggle up with Monica and tell her everything about the story. Now that it was written and ready to go to press, he wouldn’t have to hold anything back. Once he told her, she would understand why this had all been so important.

  Only, when he emerged from his office, he found he was once again too late. Monica and Heather had both gone to bed. Disappointed, he let himself out of the apartment to return to his temporary sleeping quarters at his friend’s apartment three floors below.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Monica was awakened at six o’clock by the ringing of the telephone. She blinked her eyes to make certain she’d seen the time correctly. She had.

  She rolled over and covered her head with her pillow. Who would be calling Daniel this early in the morning? She decided to let the answering machine pick it up.

  She hadn’t slept well, and she was exhausted. There was this hard knot in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away; that hollow feeling in her chest was still there, too.

  The phone rang again.

  She jerked the pillow from her face and stared upward. The first fingers of daylight were inching across the ceiling. She wondered what time Daniel left last nght. He’d been working in his office, the door closed, when she and Heather gave up waiting and retired for the night. She supposed it was petty of her, going to bed without saying good-night, but she’d been so angry.

  “Daniel,” she whispered, “what’s happening to us?”

  Again the phone rang.

  She glared at the phone. Who was that? Couldn’t they take a hint? “Go away.”

  But then she wondered if it might be Daniel calling from his friend’s apartment. Maybe she should answer it. Before she could find out, the phone stopped ringing.

  “Thank goodness.”

  She got out of bed and slipped into her cotton bathrobe, knowing it was pointless to try to go back to sleep. She picked up her Bible, thinking she would have a quiet time with the Lord out on the deck. Perhaps she would find some answers in His word.

  Just as she opened her bedroom door, she heard the click of a key turning in the front door. She glanced a second time at the clock on the night stand, surprised that Daniel had come to the apartment so early in the morning. Then the telephone started ringing once again. He answered it before the second ring. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she stayed where she was, waiting for him to finish his conversation.

  At last he hung up, but before she could move, the phone rang again.

  A strange uneasiness pervaded her as she waited a second time for him to hang up the phone. And then she had to wait a third time as well.

  Daniel’s voice rose, carrying down the hallway. “I said I’ll call you later.” She heard the unmistakable sound of the receiver slamming into its cradle.

  Monica took a deep breath, then walked down the hall and stepped into the living room. Daniel stood with his back toward her, raking the fingers of both hands through his hair.

  “What’s wrong, Daniel?”

  He turned around. “Wrong?” He shook his head. “Nothing.” His expression confirmed his words. If anything, he looked pleased as he stepped toward her.

  But Monica wasn’t pleased. She had a terrible sense that something was wrong—with them. “Who was on the phone?”

  “A congressman, the mayor’s assistant and a television reporter. In that order. The story’s in today’s paper. Apparently I’ve struck a few nerves.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a quick kiss. When he released her, he said, “Have a look.” He picked up the newspaper from the coffee table and handed it to her.

  A short while later, Monica sat at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee and reading the article that had consumed Daniel from almost the moment they’d arrived in Chicago. At last, she understood what he’d been trying to tell her. If Daniel Rourke had been well-known before, he would be doubly so now. She looked at him.

  He leaned against the island counter, his arms folded over his chest, his ankles crossed. He wore what could only be described as a Cheshire cat grin.

  “Charley wants to take us out to dinner tonight to celebrate,” he told her. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  “What about Heather?”

  “Her, too. Get gussied up, as my dad used to say. I’m going to make sure Charley takes us someplace fancy and pricey.” His smile broadened. “Very pricey. He owes me after the last few days.”

  “I can see why he brought you back to do this story.”

  “Ed deserves a lot of the credit. I just pulled it all together in his absence. That’s why we’re sharing the byline. I couldn’t
have done it without all the legwork he did before I got involved.”

  “How is he? Ed, I mean.”

  Daniel pushed off from the counter. “Lots better. The doctors are amazed. He’s awake and talking some. His wife is probably reading him the article right now. I’m going by to see him later today.”

  A new thought occurred to her. “Was it an accident that he was shot? Or did it have to do with this investigation?”

  “We’ll probably never know.”

  “And you, Daniel? Are you in danger?”

  A small frown pulled his eyebrows toward one another. “I could have been.” He shrugged and the frown vanished. “But not now that it’s all been made public. My guess is there’ll be some arrests made within a day or two. This wasn’t news to the police. They’ve been after these guys. Especially the cops on the take.”

  She pondered this for a few moments.

  “Listen,” he said, breaking into her thoughts, “I’d better get to the office. Charley’s expecting me soon. You might want to turn the ringer down on the phone and let the machine screen calls. I suspect there’ll be a few people trying to track me down here.” He bent over and kissed her forehead. “I’m off.”

  She listened to him whistling softly as he strode toward the foyer. When she heard the front door close behind him, she lowered her gaze to the newspaper again.

  It was a brilliant piece. Several brilliant pieces actually. There were photos and charts and even a copy of an actual letter that implicated some well-known names. Well-known even to a woman from Idaho. Any reporter would have been proud to write this story, but it was Daniel who did it. She wanted to share his pride in what he’d accomplished, but she was unable to shake her sense of dread.

  “Daniel Rourke is back, and he’s better than ever,” Charley Cooper said as he looked into the camera. “And we’ve got him.”

  “Mama?” Heather tugged on Monica’s sleeve. “Is Daddy ever going to have time to do stuff with us?”