Love, Michael: A second chance romance

by Gina A. Jones

  Michael opens the car door as I exit the hospital. It's dark, and the snow is still falling. With a kiss on the lips, he smiles and tells me he missed me and loves me. Even though he was just here for lunch six hours ago. "I love you, too," I tell him.

  "How are the roads?"

  "Not too bad. The plows have been keeping up. It's beautiful though. Don't you think?" he asks, looking over at me.

  I laugh. "You? You think the snow is beautiful? You hating snow was how Monica learned the word, fuck." Placing my hand over my mouth, I laugh and start to cry at the same time. He touches my leg.

  "Hey, Baby. What's the matter?"

  I shake my head, wiping under my eyes. "I lost a patient today. Dotty. Tammy and I were her favorite nurses. But, she went in peace. I…I felt it happening and called her family in so they could be there. Otherwise, it would have been too late."

  "I'm sorry. That must be hard."

  Looking out the windshield, I watch the snow fall the ground. It is beautiful and peaceful. "It never gets any easier."

  "There comes a time when you realize there are two people on each shoulder. And one of them is death. That's when we hope we have become allies with death." He looks at me and then back to the road. Maybe I should ask about his friend who died.

  I quickly change clothes, and Michael grabs a bottle of wine, and we head out across town to Monica and Jordan's. With the passing of Dotty, I need my family all around me, and I'm glad she called and invited us tonight.

  The snow is still falling, and the roads are a little slick. Yet, Michael continues his love of the snow. "Tomorrow, since you don't have to work, we are building a snowman," he says, bringing my hand up to his lips.

  I give him an incredulous look. "Who are you and what have you done with Michael Danforth?" I tease.

  "Here in the flesh, Baby." He winks, and my heart stirs.

  We pull into Monica and Jordan's drive, and Michael parks the car and comes around to help me out. Such the gentleman in everything he does. But still, I find myself holding my breath.

  "Oh, my gosh, look at the snow," Monica says, meeting us at the door. Michael and my eyes meet, and between them, we share a laugh.

  "Come in, guys. What's so funny?" she asks, shutting the door and taking our coats.

  "Oh, your father and I were talking about the snow on the way over."

  "Yeah, what about it?"

  "The snow was how you learned the ‘f' bomb."

  "What?" she laughs. "Why would I say that because of snow?"

  "Ask your father," I say and walk away. Jordan kisses my cheek, and I give him a big hug. "How's my favorite son-in-law?"

  "I'm great, Jill. The roads are getting pretty bad out there. You have any trouble getting across town?"

  "Not too bad."

  "It was a struggle getting home from work. I'm glad Monica stayed home today.”

  I turn to Monica, who is now laughing with Michael over the snow and f-bomb incident. "Did your company close today?" I ask.

  "No, I just wasn't feeling well." She looks over at Jordan.

  "Well, Honey, if you're not feeling well, we could have come a different night."

  "No, it's fine Mom. I'm feeling better now. Let's move to the dining room. I have everything ready."

  Michael wraps his arm around me, and we move into their dining room, where Monica has prepared a beautiful display of white dishes with small pink and white carnations centering the table in a vase. A card has been propped up against it that says: Mom and Dad.

  "Your setting is gorgeous, Sweetheart. You need to start your own interior design."

  "Thank you, Mom. You and Dad have a seat. Jordan will bring in the pot roast."

  "Mmm, pot roast. Perfect on such a snowy night," Michael says and reaches for the envelope that has been addressed to the both of us. "What's this?"

  "Well…just wait until Jordan's here and then you and Mom can open together." She smiles, a bit unsure and I look over at Michael.

  "Ok. I can't wait," I say.

  Jordan sets the dish with the pot roast, and they both take a seat. "Okay, now you can open it," Monica says, her voice rings with excitement.

  Michael pulls out a homemade card with pink and blue carnations and opens up to read.

  "Roses are red, violets are blue. August fourth, your first grand baby is due." My mouth drops. "Congratulations, Sweetheart," Michael says and stands to go kiss his daughter. He shakes Jordan's hand, braces his shoulder. "Congrats, man."

  "Mom? Are you going to say anything?" I'm still sitting, and I'm in shock. "Are you happy for us, Mom?" Monica, Jordan, and Michael all look at me from across the table. She's pregnant. My baby is pregnant. I need to say something.

  "Jill?" I hear Michael say.

  "Ah…yes baby, I'm happy for you. But don't you think it's a little early to be having a baby? I mean, you and Jordan need some time. Time to be…just a couple." Why am I saying this? I should be jumping for joy. It's another blessing in Monica's life. My life. I'm going to be a grandmother. "I mean…you're so young."

  "You were seventeen when you had me."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't plan to have you at seventeen. Monica, I'm barely in my forties, and I'm still learning how to deal with…life…and motherhood."

  "So…you're not happy for us, Mom."

  "No, Honey, I didn't say that. Of course, I am. But have you thought this through? I work, and I still work. Who will be caring for your child?"

  "I will," Michael states as a matter of fact.

  I laugh. "You? Michael, it was like pulling teeth to get you to watch your own daughter. What makes you think you're even qualified?"

  "Because I want to. It will all right, Jill. I couldn't be happier to become a grandfather and to help raise and take care of them. It's a second chance."

  "Daddy, do you really want to babysit?"

  He takes Monica in his arms. "You bet I do, Sweetheart." He kisses her forehead. "Thank you so much for giving me a chance to become a grandfather. You know how much this means to me." I don't know if he's stating or asking.

  "I would love that, Daddy," she says, and the two of them embrace again. What is all the Daddy talk? Have I been in a weird comma for the last twenty years, dreaming that Michael and I were divorced? And all along, I've been the one missing?

  "This is unbelievable," I state. They all look over at me, still waiting on my acceptance of this baby. I'm back in my old bedroom, reading the positive pregnancy test as Tammy rubs my back.

  "This is happening, Jill. You're so lucky to be able to live and see the birth of your first grandchild." I hear Tammy say in her Marilyn's voice. Looking up, she's standing next to them, and I suddenly feel like a piece of shit. I'm once again letting my tragic beginning affect Monica's present. Something I swear I would never do. Tammy's right. How selfish of me to feel this way when she will never hold her own.

  "Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry. Yes. Oh my, God. Yes. I'm so happy." I rush over and take her in my arms. "I'm going to be a grandma. I can't believe it. My baby is having a baby."

  She smiles with tears in her eyes, and I too have tears. "Thank you, Mom. I'm going to need you through this."

  "Of course, Baby. I'll always be here. Oh, my God, I need a tissue…my nose is running…my eyes are running. Ahh," I shake with excitement. "You're having a baby."

  I turn to Jordan. "I know you're going to be such a great father to my grandchild, Jordan. You take such good care of my daughter."

  "Thank you, Mom. I can't wait to be a father. And I'm so honored to have your blessing."

  "I guess you won't be having any wine that I brought tonight," Michael says.

  "No, Daddy. But thanks. And…Daddy, thanks for wanting to help raise this baby," she says and puts her hand on her tummy.

  I'm going to be a grandmother. Michael and I are going to be grandparents.

  Then

  I was kissing Michael goodbye at the airport and hoping this would be the last time. "Tell Daddy bye-bye," I told
Monica. Michael took Monica in his arms and kissed her cheeks, telling her to be a good girl for Mommy. He was leaving for Seattle once again. Six months ago, he was offered the position of lead research engineer for Boeing. Yet, I was still living back in Michigan. I asked several times to put the house on the market. But Michael said he wanted to give it a full year before moving for good. Monica was almost four, and Michael was missing out on her growing up.

  I watched him leave through security and waved when he looked back. Each time become harder, and I missed him so much. Not only that, but what closeness we built up again in Florida was now deicing. He used to call as soon as he arrived and when his workday was over. He would talk to Monica, and she couldn't wait for Daddy to call. Now, his calls were less and less.

  He was still staying at the hotel the company put him up in, and I asked if he started looking for a house. Occasionally, he would say he checked out a few, but they were way overpriced. Tammy and Ryan and their new daughter, Casey, were my only companions. And even then, felt I wore out my welcome.

  As much as I hated to ask, I need Tammy to watch Monica for at least a week, so I could fly out and surprise Michael. She was a new mother now and putting a four-year-old in the mix wouldn't be easy. But when I returned home, I called her.

  "What's up? Michael gone?"

  "Yes. I just dropped him off at the airport."

  "You coming over? I just put a pizza in."

  "No. I won't bother you tonight." I cringed over what I was about to ask. "I need a favor, Tammy."

  "Sure. What's up?"

  "I hate to ask, but could it be possible to take Monica for a few days? I would like to fly out and spend a week with Michael. Maybe if I'm out there, it will push him to make a decision about moving or not."

  "No problem. She loves playing with Casey. But I hope the decision is not," she said. Ever since Seattle was brought up, Tammy and I would discuss how we would handle our long distance friendship. I didn't want to leave her behind. But I didn't want Michael to go on without us.

  "Oh, thank you. I will call Michael's hotel and find out when would be a good time."

  "Don't worry. We'll be fine."

  I hung up and counted the hours until Michael's plane would land, and he'd be at his hotel. After four hours, I figured he'd be back and called. There was no answer, so I left a message at the desk.

  "Hello, this is Jill Danforth. I would like to leave a message for my husband, Michael Danforth."

  "Yes, Mrs. Danforth. Let me check his room number," the man said. I waited for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he came back and asked. "Do you know his room number? I don't have a Michael Danforth listed here."

  "Are you sure? He's been living there for the last six months. He's with Boeing…if that helps?"

  "As yes," he said, and I felt relieved. "Mr. Danforth left the hotel three months ago." My heart dropped, and I began to shake.

  "Well, that can't be right. I just took him to the airport. He should be arriving there anytime."

  "Yes, Miss. I see where he was registered here with Boeing. But Mr. Danforth checked out on May the seventh. He hasn't returned, according to our records."

  "Oh…okay. I see." I felt the phone slide in slow motion down my face and drop to the floor. I couldn't breathe, and my heart was banging against my ribcage. I could still hear the man on the other end as the phone dangled against the wall as I slid to the floor. I reached up and set the phone back into its cradle. Michael was somewhere in Seattle, and I had no way to get ahold of him. I would have to wait until he called. If he called.

  My mind went to the darkest place, and Michael was gone on some far away island with another woman. Maybe, he was not even at Boeing. However, wherever he was, he was still paying the bills. I would have to wait until Monday morning when the bank opened and find out where Michael's checks were being deposited from.

  It was noon, and I was on my lunch hour walking into the bank. Michael and I had a joint account, so there should be no reason for me not to see activity on it. The credit card statements had all been ordinary transactions—clothes, dining. What wasn't normal were the number of guests that dined on his card. I hoped it was all business-related.

  "Good day, Jill. What can I do for you?"

  "Um…I need a printed-out statement of our checking account. A few things I can't remember if I recorded."

  "Sure, no problem. Have your ID with you?" Mrs. Black, the bank teller, asked.

  "Yes," I said and pulled out my wallet.

  "Thanks." As she pulled up the account, I started making small talk, so as not to sound like I was suspicious of my husband.

  "Michael used to always run the checkbook. I want to make sure I'm not making any mistakes," I said. She smiled and excused herself.

  "I totally get it. It's printing out. I'll have to go back and get that for you."

  As I waited, I told myself I was paranoid, and all was on the up and up. But this was Michael I was dealing with. And I knew what he was capable of.

  "Here is it," she said walking back. She handed me the printed-out copy and folded it up and put down in my purse. But I was dying to read it now.

  "Thank you," I said and smile politely at her. Once in the car, I pulled it out and scanned over the transactions. Men's clothing stores—seemed appropriate, since Michael had to dress the part. Lots and lots of dining. And then I saw a purchase for Vi's Jewelry. The transaction was long before Michael came home. If he brought me jewelry, why didn't he give it to me?

  My hands were trembling as I read down the list looking for any clues. According to the automatic deposits, he was employed with Boeing. Each month a transaction for seven-thousand, six-hundred and eighty-seven dollars was deposited into the account. Michael was making more than he let on. But it was the withdrawal of half his pay the same day I questioned. Why did he withdrawal half his paycheck and where was it going?

  He never called last night to check in, and I was now going to have to reach him at Boeing. But I had no extension. Only his name. I wished I didn't have to go back to work. I wanted to call him now. No long-distance phone calls were allowed at the hospital. But then I remember my phone card. I just had never used it.

  Racing now to get back to work, I ran to the nurses' station and call information for Boeing in Seattle.

  "Which plant are you asking for?" the operator asked. I didn't know there was more than one, so I asked for them all and wrote the numbers down. I thanked her and started with the first number.

  "Hello, I'm calling for Michael Danforth's office." I could hear the shakiness in my voice.

  "Do you know his extension?" Of course not. Why hadn't he ever given it to me? Why hadn't I ever asked?

  "I don't. Sorry."

  "Does he work in this plant?" Again, I didn't know.

  "I'm not sure. He's in research. Engineering?" I didn't want to say I was his wife, knowing so little of his job.

  "Okay, that would be building five, fourth floor. Do you have that number, or shall I transfer you?"

  "Oh, that would be great if you could. Thank you."

  "No problem."

  A few seconds later, I was greeted by another operator from Boeing, and I asked for Michael Danforth's office again. And again, I didn't have his extension.

  "Let me page him," she said and put me on hold. A few seconds later, Michael answered.

  "Hey, Babe, what's up?"

  Babe? He had no idea it was me because I had no way to get ahold of him. So who did he think was calling?

  "Michael?"

  "Jill?" There was a question in his answer.

  "Yeah, Michael. Were you expecting someone else?"

  A slight pause. "No, I figured it was you because I forgot to call home last night. I'm sorry. I left a message on the recorder. But you must had left for work. Is something wrong?"

  Everything thing was wrong, but I didn't know how to begin. I really didn't have any real proof that he was doing something wrong. But I could ask why he w
asn't at the hotel anymore, and why he left three months ago.

  "I called the hotel last night. They said you moved out three months ago."

  "Yes, that's correct," he said with no hesitation.

  "Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I'm sorry. I should have, but I guess it didn't seem like a big deal. Boeing is putting me up in one of their pilot hotels. They own this hotel and use it for pilots during layovers. It's all a budget thing. And, the accommodations are much nicer, I can you that." He was rambling on so smoothly that I couldn't accuse him of anything.

  "Oh, well, you should have told me."

  "I know, I'm sorry. How's Monica?"

  "She misses you. So do I, Michael."

  "I know. Shouldn't be much longer."

  "Longer? Longer for what?" We hadn't ever put the house on the market.

  "Longer until we decide what to do."

  "Do you like the job? It seems to pay well." I now had a reason to ask why he withdrew half his paycheck each month.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Michael, I was balancing the checkbook, and I saw each month you withdraw half your pay. Why?"

  "I've put it into a special savings Boeing offers its employees. It's to save for a house, Jill."

  Okay. That was explainable. "Tammy's going to watch Monica, so I can come out and spend some time with you."

  "That's not really necessary, Jill. I was just home last weekend. Don't be wasting your vacation time. I'll be coming home again."

  "Michael, I want to. I want to check out the place. This decision involves me too."

  There was another slight hesitation.

  "Ah…you're right. But I can't promise how much time I'll be able to spend alone with you. I work late most nights so I can get my projects done and come home at times."

  "I understand. I…I just want to see you, Michael. I love you."

  “Baby, I know you do. Let me check with the hotel and see if it's okay you stay. If not, I'll get us a place of our own." He wasn't going to say he loved me back?

  "Okay. Thank you. I'll let you know my flight schedule when I book it."

  "Okay." I heard his hand muffle the phone and talk in the background. "Hey, I have to go. Let me know when you get here. Bye," he said and hung up. No ‘I love you' back.