Another Chance to Love You (17 page)

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:

“M
onica 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 an
nounced. “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 park
ing 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.

Don’t let me blow this chance,
he prayed before he said, “I’ve been busy since you left Chicago.” It was the wrong thing to say. He’d been busy while she was there, too.

She didn’t act as if she’d heard him.

He tried again. “You were right about me, Monica. The Lord showed me that. I got swept up in the rat race again. I guess it’s like a drug for me. I hadn’t realized.” He touched the back of her hand with his fingertips. “I forgot what was most important.”

She stiffened but didn’t pull away.

“I’m not going to forget again. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, Daniel,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

“I gave Charley my notice.”

He heard her surprised intake of breath. She looked up at him, her gaze questioning, hesitant, doubtful.

“I moved out of the apartment. My things are being shipped to Boise as we speak. I had an interview this morning for a columnist position with the
Boise Herald.
No travel to speak of. Decent hours. Reasonable salary. I got the job. When I start is up to you.”

“To me?”

He nodded, at the same time wondering if she could tell how scared he was. “Yeah. I can start tomorrow…” He paused briefly, then continued, “Or I can start when we get back from our honeymoon.”

Twin tears slid down her cheeks. “What if you aren’t happy in Boise? Or with me? I want a simple life with simple pleasures. A family to love and be loved by. Shared fellowship in a church community. Nothing too exciting or glamorous. What if that isn’t enough for you, Daniel? You’ve always wanted so much more.”

“I’ll be happy here. It’ll be enough.
You’ll
be enough.” He took hold of her hands, pressing them between his own as he leaned forward in his chair. “I discovered there wasn’t anything in Chicago for me after you and Heather left. I don’t want to live on that treadmill anymore, Monica. Deep down I knew that when I came here last spring. I just forgot for a while. Then you left and I remembered. So I got off of it. Off the treadmill. I’ve come home. For good. Whether you’ll take me back or not, I’m here to stay.” He lowered his voice. “But I’m hoping and praying you’ll take me back. God has a lot of work to do in me. I’m not saying
I won’t make mistakes. But please give me a chance to do my best.”

She stared at him. Not blinking. Not even seeming to breathe. Just staring.

“You don’t have any reason to believe me. I know that. But I promise you I’ll be a devoted husband and father. I made it real clear to my new editor. I’ll turn in my columns, like I was hired to do. The rest of my time is my own, and it will belong to my family.”

If she didn’t say something soon, he thought he’d go crazy.

Finally, an eternity later, she spoke, her voice uncertain. “I was always such a dreamer. Always wanting happily ever after. Perfect endings and all that. You used to tease me about it. Remember?” She swallowed. “Am I dreaming now, Daniel?”

“No.”

Her smile was tremulous. “Then I suppose the church might still be available on Saturday. And I happen to know where we can find a flower girl and a wedding gown.”

The instant the words were out of her mouth, he pulled her up from her chair and crushed her in his embrace. He kissed her hungrily, not trying to hide the desperation he’d felt.

He’d been given another chance.

The wedding was everything a couple could want. Surrounded by family and friends and with a beaming Heather standing with them, Daniel and Monica exchanged vows, promising to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives, promising to keep the Lord at the center of their marriage.

At the reception that followed, the bride and groom received many blessings, along with a surprising number of gifts. They posed for countless photographs, and they fed each other pieces of cake without mishap. Monica’s bridal bouquet was caught by a young woman who worked at Solutions, and both she and Monica seemed pleased about that.

Finally—none too soon, as far as Daniel was concerned—they slipped away, driving off in a car that trailed crepe paper streamers from the antenna and rear bumper and proudly proclaimed “Just Married!” on three sides.

Thank You, God,
Daniel prayed as he carried his bride over the threshold of their honeymoon suite.
Thank You for making me a part of Your family and of this family. Thank You for giving me another chance to love this woman, my wife.

Daniel Rourke had traveled the world. He had visited countless countries and experienced many cultures. He had met with presidents and kings and religious leaders. He had interviewed the famous and the infamous, the beautiful and the grotesque. He had seen the best and the worst of humankind. He had acquired financial wealth, won awards and garnered the respect of his peers. He’d achieved all he’d set out to do when he left Boise years before.

Daniel drew Monica closer, not ready to release her, not even to set her feet on the floor. As if understanding, she nestled her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder, relaxing in his embrace.

Yes, Daniel Rourke had done and seen many things. He’d been successful in numerous ways. But it had taken him
many years—and lots of help from the Lord—to find his true heart’s desire.

And he’d found it right here, in the love of his hometown girl.