Monica shifted her gaze from the television and the six o’clock newscast to her daughter, who was seated beside her on the sofa. She tried to think of something comforting to say, but her mind was a blank.
Heather frowned. “I liked it better at home. In Boise. He wanted to be with us then.”
She put her arm around her child’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “This may all be over soon. Probably no one will even remember it a week from now.” She knew she was being overly optimistic. She knew it likely wouldn’t be over by then. Maybe it would never be over. Daniel was a celebrity.
Heather saw through the attempt to let her down gently. “No, it won’t,” she mumbled. Then she picked up the remote control and changed the channel just as the television flashed another photo of her father.
Heather’s words stayed with Monica as she finished getting ready for their dinner on the town. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror while brushing her hair and wondered if Daniel cared that his daughter felt left out.
It wasn’t easy, taking a child from her home, friends and extended family and plopping her down in a strange environment. Perhaps Heather’s expectations were a trifle unrealistic, but Daniel should have made an effort to spend more time with her.
But this story—and his career—had come first.
She’d been down this road before.
“I’m back!”
The sound of Daniel’s voice caused her heart to jump, and she was filled with an odd mixture of pleasure and sorrow. She heard Heather greet him, knew the two of them exchanged a hug.
Daniel loved Heather. He loved Monica, too. She believed it with all her heart, knew it to be true. But was it enough? She’d thought love was always enough. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
She turned toward the bathroom door.
He was holding a bouquet of red roses. “They didn’t have any calla lilies. These will have to do.”
She smiled. “They’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” He stepped into the room, dropped the roses on the counter, then pulled Monica close for a kiss. When their lips parted, he said, “You wouldn’t believe my day.”
“Maybe we should stay in. Just spend the evening together, the three of us.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? Charley’s eager to meet you and Heather.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get changed if we want to arrive at the restaurant on time.” He kissed her on the cheek, then strode down the hall to his bedroom.
Forty minutes later, Daniel ushered his fiancée and daughter into the restaurant. Charley waited for them at their table. Daniel performed the introductions, then they were seated.
It didn’t take Monica long to decide she could like Charley. Though no more than ordinary in appearance—gray hair, glasses, a round, slightly pudgy face—the fiftyish Charley Cooper had an engaging smile and a friendly laugh. He looked every bit the newspaper editor.
It was obvious he was proud of his star reporter. “You can’t imagine how much we’ve missed Daniel at the paper. I’m glad he’s back with us.” Charley launched into a detailed report of what he anticipated would transpire over the next few days. There would be more television interviews, of course, and he’d already had requests for Daniel to appear on some nationally syndicated talk shows. “You might need to go to New York in the next couple of weeks. Maybe sooner.”
Monica wasn’t so sure she could like Charley Cooper, after all.
She glanced toward Daniel, waiting for him to remind his editor why he couldn’t go to New York. Instead he peppered Charley with questions and comments about which talk shows it would be best to appear on, what follow-up articles would be necessary and how soon, and more.
It seemed he’d forgotten the little matter of their wedding.
On the drive home from the restaurant, Daniel felt the tension emanating from Monica. She hadn’t enjoyed herself tonight as he’d expected her to. He’d noticed that her smile never reached her eyes. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he decided to wait until they were back to the apartment.
He settled for an attempt at small talk. “My steak was delicious. How was your salmon?”
“Good.”
“You should have tried that dessert.”
No response.
“Heather, how about you? Did you like your dinner?”
“It was okay.”
To Monica again: “It’s a nice restaurant. We’ll go back sometime if you’d like to.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Hmm. “Charley was taken with both you and Heather. I could tell.”
“He seems nice.” Monica turned her head to look out the window.
So much for small talk.
By the time they reached the high-rise, Heather had fallen asleep in the back seat. Daniel carried her up to the apartment and into her bedroom. She hardly stirred, waking just enough for Monica to help get her out of her party dress and into her nightclothes. Both parents kissed the girl good-night, then left the bedroom at the same time, Monica leading the way to the living room.
“What’s the matter?” Daniel asked as he followed her.
Her eyes widened as she stopped and turned. “You really don’t know, do you?”
He shrugged, mystified by her mood.
“Do you suppose your interviews in New York will get in the way of our wedding or the little matter of our honeymoon?”
“Is that what this is about? Did you really think I’d forgotten?”
She ignored his questions and asked one of her own. “Do you know how little time you’ve spent with us since we got to Chicago?”
“It couldn’t be helped, and you know it.” He felt his temper rising. Why was she being difficult and temperamental, tonight of all nights? They were supposed to be celebrating, and instead a fight was coming on.
“What about the next story, Daniel? Can it be helped?” She moved to the far side of the room. The distance yawned between them.
“I don’t understand any of this, Monica. I thought you’d be glad for me.”
“Oh, I’m glad for you. You’re a huge success. Everyone knows who you are. You’re on the evening news. Your photo and byline are in the newspaper. You will no doubt get another blockbuster book out of this mess when it’s all over. But that could take years, couldn’t it, by the time it moves through the courts and you’ve written your countless articles on all the defendants and suspects and witnesses. And when, in between all that, do you intend to spend any time with Heather?”
He sighed. “We’ve been in Chicago less than a week. I’ll take her to the zoo soon.”
“This isn’t about the zoo. She just wants to be with you. Do you know what she said to me today? She said she liked it better in Boise, because you wanted to spend time with us when we were there.”
He felt those words like an uppercut to the chin. “What do you want from me? I’m a reporter. This is my job.”
“Lots of people have jobs,” she retorted, her eyes flashing, “and they don’t forget what’s really important. What about your relationship with God? He’s supposed to come first and then your family next. Your work comes after the people you love. Heather won’t be a little girl much longer. She’ll be grown in an instant, and you won’t even know your own daughter.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not ignoring Heather. You’re over-reacting.” He sighed again. “There’s no talking to you when you’re like this.” He strode out of the living room, and she heard him slam the door as he left the apartment.
The instant the door closed behind Daniel, Monica sank onto the couch, her knees too weak to hold her up. She was shaking all over.
As if it were yesterday, their fights from years ago replayed in her mind, mingling with the one that had just occurred, magnifying this one many times over.
She covered her face with her hands as she swallowed a sob. “Oh, God. I thought it would be different. I thought it wo
uld be better. Show me what to do. Help me, Lord. Help us.”
The next day, Monica and Heather went to Navy Pier, both of them hoping a few rides and other amusements might cheer them up. Monica had held out a slim hope that she and Daniel could talk reasonably about their argument, but he didn’t come to the apartment for breakfast this morning. She assumed he was avoiding her. Perhaps that was for the best.
Mother and daughter tried to have a good time that afternoon. They rode the Ferris wheel and the merry-go-round. They walked through the indoor tropical gardens and browsed the small shops. They ate junk food—popcorn, candied apples, white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies, snow cones. But after a couple of hours, it was clear the outing had done little to improve their moods. So they headed back to the apartment.
They hadn’t gone far before they saw a bus across the street, parked while passengers boarded. And on the side of that bus was Daniel’s picture with the words Daniel Rourke. He’s Back…And Better Than Ever!
“I want to go home, Mama.” Heather’s voice cracked. “To our house. I don’t like it here.”
A sick knot formed in Monica’s stomach. It was over. It couldn’t work. Maybe she was unreasonable. Maybe she was asking too much of him. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted more than this. More than he was willing or able to give.
She squeezed Heather’s hand. “All right, honey. We’ll go home.”
By the time they reached the apartment, Monica’s chest felt as if it were being crushed. She wanted to give in to tears, to let herself wallow in her own broken heart, in her own broken dreams. But for Heather’s sake, she didn’t. It would be bad enough when she told Daniel she was calling off the wedding.
She went into the kitchen to phone the airline for flight times and availability. The message light was blinking on the answering machine. She punched the button.
“Monica? It’s me. I’m calling from my mobile phone on the way to the airport. I came home, but you were out. I’ve got to go to New York for a couple days. I’ll be back about six o’clock on Thursday. Listen, we need to talk. I’m sorry about last night. There are things I need to say to you, but I don’t want to do it on the machine. I need to say it in person. We’ll talk when I get back. I love you, sweetheart. Tell Heather I love her, too.”
Click.
Beep.
It was a while before she realized there were tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I love you, too, Daniel.”
She picked up the phone and dialed reservations.
Daniel opened the door to his apartment. “Hey, anybody home?”
He was met with silence.
It wasn’t eight o’clock yet. Surely they weren’t in bed. He went to check. The bedroom doors were open wide, their beds neatly made, nothing on the dressers. The rooms looked strangely sterile.
He frowned as he headed toward the kitchen. Hadn’t Monica received his phone message yesterday, telling her when he would be home?
He was eager to see her, eager to talk. When he’d told her in the message that he’d been thinking, it had been an understatement. In his prayer times over the past couple of days, he’d faced some harsh facts about himself and he—
He stopped suddenly, his eyes focused on a slip of paper on the counter beside the answering machine. And lying on top of it was the diamond engagement ring he’d given Monica.
With his heart thudding, he picked up the note and began to read:
Daniel,
On Friday, Heather and I took a walk along the shores of Lake Michigan. You weren’t with us. On Saturday, we went shopping, just the two of us. On Sunday afternoon, Heather and I went to the zoo without you. On Monday, we stayed in the apartment and watched television and the reports about your story. We saw you on the news. On Tuesday, we visited the Navy Pier. We saw your picture on the side of a bus. On Thursday, we flew home.
We missed you, Daniel. I’m taking Heather back to Boise where we both belong. I thought love was enough. I was wrong. I’m sorry.
Monica
Chapter Seventeen
“Monica dear,” Ellen Fletcher said, concern lacing her voice, “you must eat. You are positively wasting away.”
The two of them were having their regular one o’clock Monday lunch at their favorite bistro. Just as if everything were normal. Just as if Monica’s heart hadn’t been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Monica gave her head a small shake while pushing the food around her plate with her fork.
“You’ve been back from Chicago ten days,” her mother continued, “and I’ll bet you’ve lost as many pounds.”
“I’m not hungry, Mom.”
Ellen reached across the table and took hold of Monica’s hand. “Look at me.”
She obeyed the stern command.
“Have you returned Daniel’s calls?”
“No.” The word almost wouldn’t come out over the lump in her throat.
“Monica, I’ve tried not to interfere, but—”
“Then don’t interfere.”
“But, dear, what if—”
“Don’t, Mom.”
Ellen released a deep sigh while Monica gently but firmly withdrew her hand from her mother’s grasp.
Several minutes of strained silence passed before Monica whispered, “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. It won’t change anything. Heather is unhappy, and so am I.” She met her mother’s gaze. “I made a terrible mistake telling Daniel about Heather. I should have left well enough alone. I thought this would be a good thing for her, but I was wrong. I wanted to do what was right, and all I did was hurt my daughter.” She released a ragged breath, then added, “And myself.”
Ellen remained silent.
“It’s so hard, Mom. I didn’t know it could hurt this bad.”
“Give yourself time.”
At the moment, she didn’t think time would help.
“Maybe you and Heather should take a little vacation. Maybe you could visit that friend of yours in Alaska. Alaska must be gorgeous this time of year.”
Monica looked out the window. A little vacation… She’d thought she would be on her honeymoon next week.
Abruptly she stood. “I’d better get back to the office.”
Her mother rose, too.
“I’m not going to wallow in self-pity any longer,” she announced. “Everyone at the office is tiptoeing around, being so careful what they say or how they look at me. It’s horrible, and it’s time I put a stop to it.”
“You can’t expect to get over something like this overnight.”
“No, but I don’t have to be morbid about it, either.”
It felt good to say that. It felt good to believe it.
She’d loved unwisely, but she would get over it. She would trust Jesus to help her through these troubled waters. He wouldn’t fail her as Daniel had. She would look to the future and not dwell on the past. God could—and would—heal her broken heart.
She hooked arms with Ellen as they left the bistro.
Even though the temperature had soared into the high nineties on this mid-July afternoon, they walked slowly, pausing several times to admire dresses and jewelry in shop windows. Neither of them was interested in what they saw, but both pretended to be for the sake of the other.
At last they arrived at Monica’s office building. They stopped on the sidewalk and exchanged an embrace.
“Don’t worry about me,” Monica said in her mother’s ear. “I’m going to be okay.”
“Of course you will.”
They drew apart. Ellen’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. Monica knew hers must look the same.
“Come for dinner tomorrow night. Your father is working on a new birdhouse. I’m sure Heather would love to see it.”
Monica shrugged. “I’ll have to let you know.”
Her mother didn’t push. “All right, dear.” She touched Monica’s cheek. “Call me.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She watched Ellen walk toward the entrance to the parking garage, then she pushed open the big glass door and entered the office building. A moment later, in the elevator, she once again had to fight the urge to give in to a flood of tears. Her new resolve to be positive and not to feel sorry for herself was already flagging.
She managed to regain fragile control over her emotions before the elevator stopped at her floor.
Terri looked up, a smile of welcome on her face. The smile immediately vanished when she recognized Monica. “Ms. Fletcher, there’s someone waiting in—”
“Not now, Terri,” she said, her hand raised like a traffic cop. She needed to get to her office and close the door. She didn’t want witnesses when she fell apart.
She walked down the hall with as much decorum as she could muster. She kept her gaze fastened on the floor a few feet in front of her, taking no chance of making eye contact with anyone. She didn’t want to hear how sorry someone was. She just wanted to stop hurting.
None too soon, she dashed through the doorway into her office, shutting herself in, then pressed her forehead against the door.
Why did it have to hurt so much?
She drew in a deep breath, let it out, straightened and turned.
And then she gasped.
Daniel stood beside her desk.
“Hello, Monica.”
She was too thin, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her face was pale and wan. She looked like she was holding on by a thread.
And it was his fault.
“You never returned my calls.” He took a step toward her.
“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t serve any purpose. We can’t change who we are or what we want.”
“Nothing is impossible with God. Remember?” He motioned toward a chair. “Will you sit down? I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
She grew more pale.
“Please, Monica.”
He waited, afraid to hope she would do as he’d asked. He couldn’t blame her if she marched out of the office without hearing what he’d come to say.
He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she moved to sit down. He let the air out of his lungs, then followed to sit near her. She didn’t look at him. Instead she stared down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.
Another Chance to Love You Page 19
