"And?"
"And that's it. Turn here," I tell her as we near Stafford's.
"Mom, I know where Stafford's is. You're ignoring the question."
"Monica, there's nothing to discuss. Right now I'm more concerned about Tammy."
"Yes, I'm sorry, Mom. How's she doing with the chemo?"
"Mentally, I think she's remaining strong for my sake. But physically, I see a decline."
"Will she be okay?"
"Of course. I refuse to think otherwise."
She pulls into the lot of the body shop, and I see my car parked out front. "Oh, hang on and let me write you a check for your father," I tell her as I'm about to leave.
"A check? Why?"
"They called and said it was paid for. Michael signed the receipt."
"Why don't you give it to him? I don't know when I'll be seeing him again."
"I'm sure it will be before me, Monica."
"Mom, if he came here to pay for it, then he probably doesn't want to be paid back."
"No, it's probably because he was the only contact the body shop had. He took care of the arrangements. So now, I need to pay him back."
She huffs. "Fine. I'll wait."
After I receive the keys and the receipt, I write a whopping check. I'll need to transfer the money and give to Monica. "Be sure he gets it soon."
"Yes, Mom."
"Okay, love you. Thank you for picking me up," I say and kiss her cheek. She leaves, and I hope it's straight to Michael's. I walk over to inspect my car—looks brand new, and then drive home.
As usual, another bouquet, another letter.
Jill,
How was your day? Your car should be done. I hope you enjoy my flowers. I owe you many and regret I never brought you any in the past. I regret a lot of things, Jill. I'm leaving my number again, just in case you misplaced the last note I wrote to you. Please call me anytime.
Love, Michael
I smell the flowers and once again think of Tammy, Monica…and Michael. I should at least thank him for paying and that Monica has a check for him. Pulling out my phone, I take a deep breath and press out his number.
"Michael Danforth," he answers.
I pause. I could end the call now, and he'll never know it was me. But what if he calls my number back? I won't answer.
"Jill?" he questions, and there's softness in his voice.
"Ah…hi, Michael. I wanted to thank you for the car and that Monica has a check for you. She should be on her way to your place. That's all. Have a nice evening…"
"Jill, don't hang up. I'm so happy you finally called.”
"Well, it was just to let you know that I don't expect you to pay for the damages…"
"I don't want the money. I just want to see you. Can I see you, Jill?"
Dammit. Why's he being like this? "I just got home. I'm tired. I'm going to check on Tammy and…"
"She's fine. I just talked to her."
"What? Why?"
"To see how she is doing. Why else?"
"Oh, okay…good. I'm just going to relax and…"
"I'm coming over, Jill. Have you eaten?"
"No, but I…"
"I'll be there soon."
"But, Michael…" The call goes silent. Dammit! I should have never called.
Shoving my phone back into my purse, I walk inside and drop it on the counter. Scrubs! I hit the shower and change into a sundress—modest in front, a little showy in back that's opened down to the small of my back. I even made sure to paint my toenails. Why?
The doorbell rings just as I walk barefoot to the living room and meet Michael at the door. He holds another bouquet of sunflowers and a bottle of wine. "Hope lasagna will do," he says, pulling out a box of frozen lasagna. "Picked it up on the way."
"It's fine. Thank you." He hands me the cold box, and I turn around. "I'll preheat the oven."
"Wow. That dress."
I know, I think to myself with a wicked smile. "Just got out of the shower and it's the coolest thing I have on such a hot day," I say nonchalantly. What am I doing? I hear him place the wine and flowers on the counter and then feel his warm hand glide across my bare back, followed by a kiss my shoulder.
"You make it gorgeous," he whispers in my ear.
Ahh. "Did Monica bring you the check?" I ask, moving away.
"Yes. Here," he says and pulls out my check, torn in two. "I told you, I'd take care of it."
"No…"
"Shh," he whispers and places his finger over my lips. "No discussion about it."
"But…"
"Ah. None."
I make an excuse to grab some water for the flowers and open the lasagna. "And thank you for dinner and the flowers. It's not necessary."
"It is to me," he says. I try and look away from his pleading eyes, and am saved when a knock on my back door breaks the moment.
"Jill?" Alan, my next-door neighbor, pops his head in. "You home, Love?"
Michael gives me a discerned look. "My neighbor," I say. "Yes, Alan. Come in."
"Hey, Love. Kyle and I…Oh. Hello," Alan says all wide-eyed. "I didn't know you had company. That's great. The more, the merrier. Movie night. “The Lake House," he says, making a heart shape over his heart.
"Alan, this is Michael…Danforth."
Alan places his hands on his hips and inspects Michael with charming eyes. "You're Monica's father. Oh my, God. It's so nice to meet you."
Michael holds out his hand. "Yes, I am."
"I'm Alan. My husband Kyle and I live next door." Michael's eyes trace back to me before returning to Alan.
"Nice to meet you. Glad you came to movie night." Alan turns to me. "How's Tammy?"
"As well as to be expected," I say.
"Good. Well, I won't keep you two. The movie starts at dusk. Bring wine, and all will be fine," he says, waving his hands through the air as he walks back to the door. "Bye, Love. Nice to meet you, Michael." The door shuts and Michael smiles with questioning eyes.
"Yes. Alan and Tyler are my gay neighbors. They entertain the block with wine and movie night. They host on their back patio, projecting onto their back shed. It makes a great outdoor theater. They're the best neighbors anyone could have, and the block just loves them."
"The movies or them?"
"Both." He smiles and wraps his arms around me like it's all natural. I feel myself tensing and break to open the wine. "It'll be a while before dinner is ready. I'll open and pour the wine."
As I'm opening the wine, Michael traces small circles on the exposed small of my back, and I chastise myself for wearing this dress. It's doing exactly what I wanted. Yet, I tense.
"Here you go," I say handing him a glass. I take the other, and he holds for a toast.
"To Tammy."
"Yes, to Tammy," I say, and we sip. "So, have you ever seen The Lakehouse?"
"No," he says and pulls me into his arms. "Is it a romantic movie?"
"Yes. So, now's your chance to run." His hand is warm on my back, and I consider his eyes, waiting on his response. "I know you hate all those sappy, lovey movies." Nothing. He continues smiling into my eyes. "Hallmark…ish." That should do it.
"I couldn't think of anything better I'd rather do than watch them with you."
"Oh, come on, Michael. I know better."
"And so did I…now." He moves slowly to my lips and gently kisses me. By the time we've finished the kiss, my arms are around his neck. I don't know what's happening.
"Why don't we sit on my patio? We can see and hear the movie from there while we wait on the lasagna."
We move to the patio and sit with our wines. We're quiet, and Michael watches me with that smile. The movie lights up the yard, and the music settles as the perfect ambiance. "I forgot how much I loved the soundtrack to this movie," I say.
"Your beautiful, Jill."
I try to look away but can't. He sets his wine down and takes mine. "Please, I want to dance with you right here." I take his hand, and he holds me in his arms. My
heart slams against my ribcage, yet I feel relaxed. Paul McCartney sings ‘This Never Happened Before, ‘as I lay my head against Michael's heart. He kisses my head, and I squeeze my arms a little tighter around him as we dance to the cadence of the song. I don't know how this is happening, and I'm not quite sure I care to know but enjoy this moment. Because…this never happened before.
I need a tactic. A tactic to come back to my senses. "Michael?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me more about this woman you were going to marry." This will strike a nerve and open my eyes. My heart is easily deceived.
He lifts my chin to meet his eyes. "She didn't have these beautiful blue eyes. She didn't have this perfect nose," he says, placing a small kiss on my nose. He traces my cheek. "She didn't have these perfect high cheeks or this soft skin." He squeezes me tightly. "She didn't have this beautiful body." He traces my heart. "She didn't have this beautiful Jill heart." He takes my hand and gently rubs my open palm down his cheek. "She didn't make me feel this way when she touched me."
My eyes blink with confusion and lustful sedation. This is truly distracting. How does he master something that is to repel my feelings and directs them into drawing me to him?
"You want to hear more?" I can't answer but stare into his eyes. "She never made me feel like I wanted to make love to her the way I want to make love to you right now." I'm speechless, and he picks me up and carries me into the house. How do I stop this?
He stands me to my feet once we reach my bedroom. "I never wanted to remove her dress, like I want to remove yours," he says as he pulls my dress off. I'm in a complete hypnotic state as he strategically places kisses over my naked body. He steps to the side and begins to remove his clothes. "I never undress, thinking how good it will feel to be inside her, like it's going to feel when I make love you, Jill." He picks me up and lays me down, crawling over me and opens my legs with his knee. "She wasn't you, Jill," he says, and I feel him enter me. My chest heaves and I whisper his name.
"Michael."
Then
It had been six months since I've become the wife of Michael Danforth and ever since, my life had been draining into a cesspit of sadness. My baby had grown inside me, yet Michael hadn’t once acknowledged my tummy or any baby-related questions. It was Tammy or my mother who visited with me at my prenatal appointments, and I found out I was having a baby girl. I never told Michael, in hopes that he'd ask. I've even took my old job at Delanie's back.
Once, I was a teenage girl working at a pizza shop, delusional with dreams of Michael and our life together. Now, I was a married woman working in a pizza shop, living in a nightmare with Michael.
He wasn't ever physically abusive again, but emotionally, he hadn't touched me since. Not even in a loving way. Sometimes, he came home and sometimes he didn't. I feared he had other women, and deep down…I knew he did. But if I didn't pry, it wasn't real.
Despite his lack of love and emotions for the baby and me, I continued loving him. I woke him every morning with a kiss after I showered and dried my hair. His breakfast was cooked and just so I could touch him, I would help button his shirt and tie his tie. Before he walked out each day, I told him how handsome he was and that I loved him. I never heard it back.
Tonight, I was making a special dinner, chicken cacciatore, and planned to tell Michael he was having a daughter. It was hard to include words such as our baby and our daughter because he made me feel so alone in all of it. I wanted us to get back to where we were before I become pregnant. I knew there would be no moment of bliss filled with joy, kissing and hugging. But I wanted him to express something. Did he even care what he was having? And maybe it was all going to be a lost cause—if he didn't come home. But nonetheless, I carried on with my loving, wife duties, and hoped someday I could look back and say it was all worth it.
I had also turned eighteen since we married, but he didn't even know my birthday. Tammy and I celebrated at the apartment, alone. Because it was a no-show night for Michael. The next morning, he asked who the birthday cake was for. When I told him, he wondered why I never said anything. He didn't remember I told him in the past…before getting pregnant. I was hoping for a little something. But nothing. He did say under his breath, ‘Should had said something. Maybe we would have gone out.'
So tonight, I was hoping to get an extension for my birthday and even made another cake—chocolate with butter pecan frosting. Michael's favorite—not mine. And since it was Wednesday, he was sure to come home. It was mostly Friday's and Saturday's he didn't.
I had on a long, black tunic dress that hugged my baby bump. I was small for six months, and the lady at the store told me I looked darling in it. My hair was up with a few curls that wisped at my shoulders. I looked…beautiful. And with my baby girl inside me, I felt special. I just wanted Michael to see me this way.
The candles were lit, and music played softly in the background. I stood next to the table when the door opened. Michael came home.
"Why are the lights off?" he asked, setting his briefcase next to the chair he worked at.
"Hi, Michael," I said in a soft, loving voice. He looked at me, the table and then back at me.
"What's going on?" he began to remove his tie when I joined him at the door.
"Let me," I said, unknotting his tie. "How was your day?"
"Fine, I guess." Was he going to say I looked pretty?
I kissed his cheek and said, "I missed you." He began with the arrangement talk.
"Jill…don't…"
I stopped him. "Shh. Just listen. Remember when you said you wished you would have known my birthday…and that maybe would have done something?"
He inhaled. "I don't know…maybe."
"Well, let's redo it. I've made chicken cacciatore and your favorite cake." His tie was off, and I began to unbutton his shirt. I placed a small kiss in the well of his throat and felt him swallow. I wanted him to hold me. I didn't want him to think I feared his touch. That we could start our wedding night over. And maybe all this time, he thought I was wary of sex because of what happened. I was taking a stand and going to win my Michael back. My husband.
"Jill…you don't have to do this. If you want something for your birthday, just let me know and I'll pick it up tomorrow."
"I don't want something else, Michael. I want dinner with you," I said looking into his eyes. There was remorse there, and maybe I could use it in my favor. "Have dinner with me, and I will tell you what I want for my birthday." He looked over at the table and back to me. "Please. And I found out what the baby is today." His eyes widened a bit. Was he eager to know?
"Oh? So, you know if it's a boy or girl?" he asked. He…asked, and it was the light I needed to brighten the visions I so wanted for us.
I smiled into his eyes. "Yes." He seemed…intrigued. I was happy. Was I winning my husband? I lead him by the hand to the table. "First let's eat, and I'll tell you." He sat, and I moved to the chair across. I watched his eyes watch me.
"You…look pretty." I gasped, and I could feel my heart skipping beats.
"Thank you, Michael." I served his plate and poured his wine. As I did, he watched me with captivating eyes. Maybe it was me he thought didn't want to try, and after tonight, we would be happy in love. Allowed to go on with our marriage and become a family.
After a few bites, he said, "I really would like to know." Was he referring to us…or the baby? I needed to know more how he really felt and wanted to set the record straight.
"Michael, I want you to know. I'm willing to work on our marriage. I realize it came as a shock to both of us and I understand how you must have taken it at first. But that doesn't mean I love you less." His eyes never wavered from me, and I felt a shift in our favor. "I will stand by you in your career and any decision you make on that," I remember his longing for Boeing and moving to Seattle. Maybe if he knew I was willing, and not a threat, he would let down his guard and love me.
He looked down at his plate and back at me. "Thank you. And lik
e I said, I will see that you get your degree in nursing." I smiled and thanked him before taking a bite. Something had shifted. We were exchanging positive inclinations, and I was hopeful. I wanted to tell him now about the baby. Would he be upset it wasn't a boy?
"So, how do you feel about having a daughter?" I said it and held my breath. He stopped with his fork and set it down.
"We're having a girl?"
I was still holding my breath. "Ah hum." He smiled, and his eyes became glassy. I bit my lip, waiting for more. "I know most men want a boy…"
"A girl. Wow…I just…wow."
It was real to him now. He was going to be a father, and he was having a daughter. Yet, I needed to know how he felt. "I know you weren't happy when I first told you, but how does a having a daughter feel?"
"It…it feels different," he said. Different good or different bad? He got up and came over to me and bent down. My breath hitched, and the tears were already forming in my eyes. I had done the right thing. I had fought for us and won my husband.
He pushed my chair back and touched my pregnant belly. It was the first time he had touched me. My heart was in melt-down mode, and he laid his head on my lap. Had it all finally became real to him?
He began to cry, and my hands smoothed his hair. He did love me. He just didn't know how. He then looked up, and I saw the hurt and pain in his eyes. He tried to speak but each time would break up. I cupped his face and told him it was all right. To say what he needed to say.
"It…it was easier to just stay angry. Go on with life and not think about it," he said. "But now, now when I think of a little girl…looking up to me to care for her…I…" He couldn't finish and cried on my lap. I told him how much I loved him and how happy I was to be having his daughter. He took my hands and looked longingly into my eyes.
"Jill…I know I haven't been a husband. And I've done…done things…." I wonder what other things he had done, and I didn't know if hearing that he had other women, I could take. But at that point, I knew it was true. But I had had my moment and love was working its miracle in this doomed relationship. "I'm going to try, Jill. I can't promise it will be easy for me. But I will try."
Love, Michael: A second chance romance Page 17