Another Chance to Love You (3 page)

He leaned forward, and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I’m not going to try to take over. I’d just like to get to know her. We’ll go slow.”

He saw the glitter of tears, watched as she blinked them away. “Thanks, Daniel.”

He glanced at his watch. “Maybe I’d better go.”

Monica looked relieved. “Perhaps so. Tomorrow is a school day, and I have to be up early for work.”

It occurred to him as they both stood that she’d said little throughout the meal, mostly because he’d been peppered with questions from Heather. He’d failed to ask what work Monica did or much of anything else about her life during
the past eleven years. Was she involved with anyone? Had she ever come close to getting married?

“Are you going already?” Heather asked when she saw Monica and Daniel walking toward the living room and the front door.

“Yeah,” Daniel replied. “But I’d like to come again if you don’t mind. I’m going to be in Boise for a few months.”

Heather’s gaze darted between them. “We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Mama?”

Monica hesitated a moment, then replied, “Yes. Of course we would.”

He was surprised by how much he hoped she meant it, but he didn’t let on. He gave both Heather and Monica a nod and a smile. “I’ll give you a call.” Then he turned and went down the walk toward his car.

Three hours later, Monica lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come.

She kept hearing Heather’s words after Daniel left.
He’s nice, Mama. I like him. Don’t you?

She hadn’t known how to answer then. She didn’t know how to answer now.
Did
she like him? It seemed too difficult a question for a simple yes or no. Daniel had the power to hurt Heather. He also had the power to make the girl happy, to give her—if not a whole family—at least a father.

I like him. Don’t you?

“It isn’t important whether I like him or not,” she muttered. “It’s only important that Heather does.”

She rolled onto her side and stared toward the bedroom window, which was cracked open to let in the fresh night air.
A breeze caused the drapes to flutter and sway. Moonlight danced across the carpet in tempo with the gentle wind.

Suddenly it was another spring. The night of her twenty-first birthday. The night Daniel proposed to her. They’d lived together nearly a year by that time, but she’d been talking about marriage for much longer. Secretly she’d begun to fear he would never propose. She’d even understood, at least partly, his resistance to matrimony. His dad had been married four times, widowed once, and divorced twice. Daniel’s childhood had been one of constant change.

But on that night in May, as they’d strolled in the moonlight, Daniel had asked Monica to marry him after graduation. It had been the happiest night of her life. So happy she hadn’t listened to everything else he was saying. That he didn’t want to stay in Boise. That he wasn’t in a hurry to have a family.

Or maybe she’d heard and simply ignored what he’d wanted.

Is that what you thought you could do, Monica? Trap me into marriage? Is that why you got pregnant?

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling once again.

“Maybe it was,” she confessed in a whisper.

They’d fought so often in the months that followed her birthday and their engagement. They’d fought about everything, large and small. She’d felt Daniel pulling away from her. She’d felt her happiness being stripped away, layer by layer. Maybe, subconsciously, she’d thought pregnancy was the answer. Maybe it hadn’t really been an accident.

She gave her head a small shake and mentally yanked her thoughts forward in time. It didn’t matter what had hap
pened back then. She was no longer that same girl, so desperately in love. And Daniel was no longer that same boy. They had both changed a lot over the years.

Besides, it was Heather’s happiness, Heather’s future, that mattered most to Monica. Her own feelings about Daniel, as complicated and confused as they were, mattered not at all.

T
he city of Daniel’s birth had grown tremendously during the decade he was away. In the shadow of the mountains, the downtown area had changed more than expected. New buildings of brick and glass shot skyward. Two-way streets had become one-way streets and vice versa. Beyond downtown, subdivisions had spread to the east and west along the Boise River, and more homes and businesses had gobbled up farmland and desert sagebrush to the south.

Daniel spent Monday morning driving around, getting his bearings and the lay of the land. There were plenty of things that were familiar. Plenty more that were new and unexpected.

By noon, he felt himself inexplicably drawn to the address on Monica’s business card.

Solutions, Inc., was located in one of the new downtown office buildings. Daniel parked his car in an underground parking garage, then took the elevator to the ninth floor.

The elevator doors opened into an exquisite lobby, decorated in hues of mauve and teal. The carpet was thick and squishy underfoot. The overstuffed mauve chairs were upholstered in soft leather. About twenty feet away, a reception desk sat in front of two ten-foot-high, thick glass doors. Gold lettering on that glass identified the business as Solutions, Inc.

He still didn’t know what sort of solutions this company had, but whatever it was, they were good at it, judging by what Daniel saw here.

A young, perky-looking receptionist, wearing a telephone headset, glanced up from the paperwork on her desk and gave Daniel a welcoming smile. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“Yes.” He strode across the lobby, stopping in front of the desk. “I’m looking for Monica Fletcher. Is she available?”

“One moment and I’ll see. May I tell her your name?”

“Daniel Rourke.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, just like that famous newspaper guy.”

“Yeah, just like him.”

The receptionist pressed a button on the elaborate phone system. “Ms. Fletcher, there’s a Daniel Rourke here to see you.”

While the young woman listened to whatever Monica said, Daniel let his gaze move around the lobby once again. It reminded him a little of Monica’s living room. The colors were similar, and he thought the large vase in the corner—filled with colored ostrich feathers and dried flowers—was a duplicate of one he’d seen in Monica’s entry hall.

“Mr. Rourke?”

He looked back at the receptionist.

“Ms. Fletcher said you may go in. Do you know where her office is?”

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t.”

She continued to smile as she pointed. “Go through those doors and make a right. Go all the way to the end of the hall. Ms. Fletcher has the last office. You can’t miss it. There’s a sign on her door.”

“Thanks.”

Daniel found that the inner offices were as well-appointed as the lobby. Quality prints hung on the walls. Classic lamps adorned large desks of oak and cherry wood. Judging by how quiet it was, he suspected most people were at lunch. He wondered why Monica wasn’t.

He reached the end of the hall and came to an abrupt stop, staring at the nameplate on the wood door that read: Monica Fletcher, President, Solutions, Inc.

President? Before he could knock, the door opened in front of him, and there stood Monica.

She wore her golden curls swept up in a no-nonsense chignon. Soft brown shadow colored her eyelids. Her lovely mouth was tinted dark pink. Her business suit was pale yellow with a straight skirt, stopping just above her knees. It, too, said
no nonsense.
It also said
very feminine.

“I didn’t expect you, Daniel. Did we—”

“No.” He shook his head. “I just took a chance and dropped by. I was curious about where you worked. I wondered what Solutions was. Your card doesn’t say.”

Monica motioned him into her office. It was an enormous, triangular-shaped room with windows on the two longer sides and a spectacular view of the sage-and-bitter
brush-covered foothills and the pine-topped mountains beyond.

Daniel let out a low whistle as he walked into the center of the room. “Wow,” he said softly, then turned to face her. “You’re president of this company?”

She raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, I own it.” The corners of her mouth curved up in a droll smile. “And I think I should be insulted by your tone, Mr. Rourke.”

“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insulting. It’s just…I don’t know. I didn’t expect…” He let his voice trail away, knowing he was going to make it worse if he kept talking.

“You thought all I wanted to do was stay home and be a mommy.” She breezed past him and went to stand behind her massive glass-top desk.

He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “Sorry,” he repeated, just in case.

Monica’s gaze swept over the office. When it settled once again on Daniel, she said, “This sort of all just happened. It wasn’t what I set out to do.”

“I doubt that. About it just happening, I mean. You must have worked hard. I’m impressed. Very impressed.”

She shrugged off his words, but he could tell she was pleased.

Daniel again wondered about men in her life. Were there others out there who complimented her on her achievements? Was there anyone serious in her life? She was so beautiful. There must have been plenty of men who had wanted to marry her.

Why haven’t you married, Monica?

Before he could ask that question aloud, the door opened behind him. “Monica, dear. Are you ready to—”

He turned toward the familiar voice from his past. “Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.”

She paled. “Daniel?”

He knew immediately that Ellen Fletcher hadn’t known Monica went to see him at his book signing. And in that instant of strained silence, he recalled the last time he’d spoken to this woman on the phone. “Leave Monica alone,” Ellen had said. “She doesn’t want you in her life anymore. Haven’t you hurt her enough?”

Monica would have been about five months pregnant with Heather by that time. Ellen Fletcher had to have known he was the father. She could have told him, but she’d chosen not to.

Bitterness burned his throat. He thought he’d gotten past that particular emotion. It looked as though he was wrong.

“I…I didn’t expect to see you.” Ellen clutched and un-clutched the strap on her handbag. Her eyes flicked toward her daughter. “I didn’t know anyone was with you, dear. I was early, and Terri wasn’t at her desk. I…I’ll leave the two of you—”

“It’s all right, Mom,” Monica replied, sounding calm and unconcerned. “Daniel dropped by to see the office. You remember he came to Boise to sign his book. Well, he’s decided to stay for a while.”

“Stay? In Boise?”

He wondered if Ellen was going to faint. He almost took a step toward her, just in case he needed to catch her, then stopped himself from doing so.

“Mother and I have lunch together every Monday at one o’clock.”

Daniel turned toward Monica again. She wasn’t nearly as
calm as she sounded. He could see the tension in her eyes. Despite himself, he felt sorry for her. She obviously had some explaining to do to her mother.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ll be on my way, let you two get to your lunch.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Monica’s smile was fleeting.

“I’ll call you.”

She nodded.

He turned to leave. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Fletcher.”

With that lie lingering in the air, he strode out of the office, still not knowing what Solutions was—and not caring, either.

“Good grief!” Ellen exclaimed the moment the door swung closed behind Daniel. “What on earth—”

“Sit down, Mom.” Monica sank onto the chair behind her desk.

Her mother moved forward. “Does he know?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my.” She sat opposite Monica.

“I went to the bookstore on Saturday and told him. He came to the house yesterday to meet Heather.” She remembered the way Heather had acted around Daniel. “The two of them got along very well.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear.”

“He’s her father. He had a right to know. It was wrong of me not to tell him.”

There were tears in Ellen’s eyes. “He hurt you. He left you. You needed to protect yourself.”

Weariness settled heavily on Monica’s shoulders. “That
was a long time ago, Mom. We were young and foolish. Things are different now. I needed to do what’s right in God’s eyes.”

“Have you told Heather?”

“Not yet. But we will. Soon.”

Ellen dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. When she had control of herself, she met Monica’s gaze. “He seemed angry.”

“Don’t you think he’s got a right to be angry? I robbed him out of almost eleven years of Heather’s life.”

“But what if he hurts her like he did you?”

She paused for a moment, scenes from last evening replaying in her mind. A soothing warmth spread through her, bringing with it a real calm and a sense of peace. “He won’t hurt Heather, Mom. He’s changed.”

She knew without question that she spoke the truth. Daniel would be careful when it came to Heather. He might be ambitious. He might even be ruthless in his role as a big city newspaper reporter. But she felt sure he wouldn’t hurt her daughter.

She didn’t know why she was so certain of that. She had no reason to be, no basis for her belief. Still, she believed it.

Odd, she had loved the young man she’d known all those years ago. But when she looked at Daniel now, she saw very little of that college boy left. Oh, the outside was much the same, but the inner man was different. And it was the inner Daniel who intrigued Monica. Crazy as it was, she wanted to know the man he’d become.

“Monica?”

She gave her head a quick shake, then met her mother’s watchful gaze.

“This is all my fault, isn’t it?” Ellen glanced down at her folded hands.

“Your fault?”

“Because I never told you that you were adopted.”

She chose to answer honestly. “Maybe that was the catalyst, Mom. I won’t pretend I wasn’t hurt and confused when I found out.”

She’d been more than hurt and confused. She’d been stunned. She and her parents had all donated blood while Heather was having her emergency appendectomy. Afterward, the lab technician had made an innocent comment about adoption being a wonderful thing. Monica thought she meant Heather and had corrected her. But the technician had meant Monica and had told her that her blood type didn’t match either of her parents; therefore, she had to be adopted.

The discovery had left Monica reeling.

She took a deep breath and continued, “Mom, I know you acted out of love for me…and maybe out of fear, too. I’ve come to realize the nature of my birth, why I was given up for adoption and who my birth parents were, isn’t as important to me as it is to some. You and Dad are my parents, and I love you.” She looked out the windows at the mountains. “But what I did to Daniel wasn’t the same thing. I should have told him about Heather from the start. Even if he didn’t want to marry me, it was what I should have done. I had no right to keep this a secret from him.”

“Monica… You don’t still
care
for Daniel, do you?” The question was asked in a tense whisper.

She didn’t know what to say. Seeing Daniel again after all these years had confused her. The best she could do was shrug, nod, then shake her head slowly, a gesture as confused as her emotions.

“I never should have interfered,” Ellen said, more to her
self than to her daughter. Her complexion seemed somewhat grayish.

Monica reached for her purse, suddenly more concerned for her mother than for herself. “Come on.” She stood. “Let’s go have our lunch. This will all sort itself out, Mom. You’ll see. It’ll be okay.”

Daniel pulled the rental car over to the curb in front of the small, white house on Eighth Street. Remnants of anger made his chest tight, but who he was the most angry with he couldn’t decide.

He got out of the car and walked around to the sidewalk. There, he paused and stared at the house. Huge, ancient maples and oaks, their trunks gnarled and misshapen, stretched their leafy branches over the house and yard. The sidewalk was rippled and cracked by tree roots butting up against its underside. Grass grew sparsely, like a balding man’s hair, because the trees obscured the sunlight.

This had been Monica’s dream house. She’d found it quite by accident, the year they were sophomores at Boise State. Countless times after that, they had walked past it, strolling hand in hand in the cool of an evening. Monica had always stopped and looked at it and then talked about how fun it would be to live in an “adorable” little house like that, children playing in the fenced backyard.

The idea had scared him to death.

He’d wanted so much more than domesticity. He’d wanted more than what Boise could offer him.

And he’d found it, too. He’d lived an exciting life since graduating and moving away. He had a spacious corner apartment in an exclusive high-rise building on the north-
side of Chicago with views of both Lake Michigan and the city. He had a job where he was respected. He made more money than he’d ever expected to be making at the age of thirty-three. One might even say he was famous. Why, even young receptionists in Boise, Idaho, knew who Daniel Rourke was. At least by name.

He stared at the little white house with its peeling paint on the eaves, its uneven, patchy lawn and its cracked sidewalks, and he wondered why fame and fortune didn’t seem to be enough anymore, why he felt strangely empty.

Monica had done well, too. Yet he had a sneaky feeling her happiness didn’t have much to do with her nice office on the ninth floor of a ritzy office complex or her attractive home in an upscale neighborhood. He suspected she would have been just as happy living in this small house in the north end.

For some reason, it irritated him, knowing she was content while he was still searching.

Daniel yanked his mobile phone out of its holster and flipped it open. He jabbed the fluorescent green numbers, then pressed Send and listened to the ensuing ring.

“Good afternoon. Solutions.”

He recognized the voice of the receptionist. “This is Daniel Rourke. I need to speak to Monica.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rourke. Ms. Fletcher hasn’t returned from lunch. May I give her a—”