Another Chance to Love You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  The coffeepot quit gurgling, and Daniel was glad for an excuse to turn away from his old friend. Something told him Tony had guessed Heather was his daughter. Given the striking physical resemblance and when she was born, he supposed he’d have to be blind—even stupid—not to guess. Still, Daniel wasn’t ready to talk about it, so he changed the subject.

  “Did you go back to college to finish your degree?” he asked.

  “Nope. Couldn’t afford to, not with a growing family like mine.”

  Daniel looked over his shoulder, holding up a mug in question.

  “Sure,” Tony answered. “I’ll take a cup. Black.”

  He poured a second mugful of coffee and carried both to the table. He handed Tony his, then sat down in the chair opposite him.

  “I’m still doing construction,” his friend continued. “It’s had its ups and downs over the years, but we get by. Keeps the kids in designer athletic shoes.”

  “Ever sorry? About giving up college, I mean. You would have been a great architect. It was like an art with you. I remember all those buildings you used to design in your basement. You could have made quite a name for yourself.”

  Tony looked thoughtful for a moment, his gaze locked on his coffee mug. “What you mean is, did I resent Jennifer for getting pregnant? The answer is, no. Sure, I wish we’d done it the right way—got married first, then started a family.” He met Daniel’s gaze. “But I loved her, man. Still do. Making a name for myself was never as important to me as it was you. I wasn’t that ambitious. I just want to do right by my family. That’s what’s most important to me.”

  Again Daniel thought of Monica and Heather. It was tempting to tell Tony that he’d met his daughter. But what right had he to do so?

  None.

  At least, not yet.

  Members of the congregation stood outside the church, visiting with one another after Sunday services. Monica was glad she’d worn a sweater. Last night’s rainstorm had dropped the temperature about fifteen degrees.

  Heather didn’t seem to mind the cooler weather. Her laughter rang in the spring air as she ran with some friends in the park that bordered the small nondenominational church the Fletchers attended. Watching her daughter, Monica’s heart ached.

  She’d been disappointed by Daniel’s decision to wait to tell Heather he was her father. And yet, she’d also been terrified when he’d said it was time to tell her, wondering if it wasn’t too soon.

  Even the reasons for her disappointment were confused. Partly it was because Daniel wasn’t sure he was ready to be a father. She even respected him for being cautious, for not wanting to risk hurting Heather. But part of the reason for her disappointment was that she’d felt Daniel pulling away from her.

  This isn’t about me, she reminded herself for what seemed the hundredth time since yesterday afternoon.

  Maybe it was time she talked to her pastor about Daniel. Maybe he could help her work through these confusing emotions.

  She glanced toward the church entrance. Pastor Clyde and his wife, Jolene, stood at the top of the steps, visiting with another couple. A man in his late fifties, Pastor Clyde was a wise and gentle shepherd of his small flock. His biblical teaching had helped Monica become grounded in the word of God from the day of her conversion. She knew she could trust him to give her sound advice.

  Yes, she would talk to him. She would talk to him soon.

  “Is it true, Monica?”

  Pulled from her reverie, she turned toward her mother. “Is what true?”

  “Heather told me you spent yesterday with Daniel.”

  She suppressed a sigh. “Yes, Mother, it’s true.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “We’ve been over this already.”

  “But—”

  “Mom, you’ve got to let me handle this the way I think is best.”

  Ellen obviously wanted to say more, but she restrained herself.

  Monica offered a conciliatory smile. “It’s going to be okay. Daniel and I didn’t make it as a couple, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be good parents.”

  “I just don’t want you or Heather to get hurt. I remember how devastated you were when—”

  “You can’t protect us from life, Mom.” Monica put her arm around her mother’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

  Ellen Fletcher had always been there for her daughter. When Monica announced she was pregnant with Daniel’s baby, Ellen hadn’t placed blame or made Monica feel guilty for her mistakes. She had done everything to make those difficult months easier. Ellen had gone with Monica to Salt Lake City and helped her get settled into an apartment where she’d awaited the birth of the baby. Her mother had been supportive of her plans to give the baby up for adoption, but when Monica changed her mind and decided to keep Heather, she hadn’t chastised her or tried to talk her out of it.

  Monica felt a sudden rush of love. Perhaps Ellen and Wayne Fletcher had been wrong not to tell Monica she was an adopted child, but it didn’t lessen the wonderful, caring atmosphere in which she’d been raised. She didn’t know why her birth mother gave her up for adoption. She probably would never know. Maybe she had been a girl much like Monica herself, rejected by the man she’d loved. Maybe she hadn’t been lucky enough to have a mother like Ellen Fletcher, a mother who would stand by her, no matter what.

  “I love you, Mom,” she said softly as she met her mother’s worried gaze.

  Ellen’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  “I know.” Her mother nodded. “I know.”

  Once again, Monica envisioned Daniel with Heather. Once again, she felt a tightening in her chest, a longing for something still undefined. “Does it ever get easier to know what we should do?” she whispered, a catch in her voice.

  “We must trust God, dear. That’s the only way I know.”

  Her mother’s words replayed in her head when Monica and Heather arrived home to find Daniel’s red convertible parked in front of their house.

  “It’s Mr. Rourke!” Heather said excitedly. “You think he wants to go back to the hot springs?”

  “I doubt it, honey. Not this soon. You probably wore him out yesterday.”

  As Monica pulled her minivan into the driveway, the convertible’s driver-side door opened and Daniel stepped out of the car. Monica felt a little flutter in her chest but strove to ignore it.

  She turned the key, cutting the engine. Before she could reach for the door, Heather had already clamored out her side and was racing toward Daniel.

  “Hi, Mr. Rourke. We weren’t expectin’ to see you today.”

  Monica got out of the van.

  Heather took hold of her father’s hand and pulled him toward the driveway. “Doesn’t Mama look pretty? That’s my favorite dress of hers.”

  Daniel removed his sunglasses. “Yeah, she looks real pretty.”

  Flustered, Monica dropped her gaze to a spot on the ground midway between them.

  “Prettiest woman I’ve seen in a long time.”

  Her heart started an unwelcome clamoring in her chest. One would think she’d never received a compliment before.

  “Tony Cristobal came by the house this morning. I didn’t even recognize him.”

  Relieved by the change of subject, she glanced up. “He looks great, doesn’t he?”

  “I guess keeping up with six kids will do that to a fellow.”

  “They’re quite the lively bunch. I should give Jennifer a call. We haven’t managed to get together since last summer.”

  Daniel’s expression grew serious. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “I think so, but he’s never said anything.”

  “It’s time to have that talk.”

  Oh, Lord. Get me through this. She swallowed hard, then nodded.

  “Mama, can we ask Mr. Rourke to stay for lunch?”

  Monica looked at her daughter, feeling afraid and hoping she didn�
��t show it. “Sure, honey.”

  “Can you, Mr. Rourke? Can you stay and eat with us?”

  “Yes. I’ll stay.”

  How long will you stay, Daniel? Only three more months? Is that all? It won’t be enough. Not nearly enough.

  Enough for what? For us?

  Panicked by her thoughts, she turned away, closed the car door and hurried up the walk to the house.

  Heather deserved a dad, she reminded herself, and Daniel deserved to know his daughter. That’s what this was all about. That was the only thing this was about. A father and a daughter.

  She fumbled with the key in the lock.

  “I’m going upstairs to change,” she called over her shoulder, not looking to see if the other two had followed her up the walk or if they’d heard what she said.

  In her room, she closed the door, then leaned against it, her eyes closed.

  This was insane. It was crazy. There was no reason in the world that she should be feeling like this. She wasn’t interested in Daniel. No matter how long he stayed in Boise, there couldn’t be anything between them. Friendship at most.

  She drew in a ragged breath, then slowly exhaled. Better. That was better. The foolishness had nearly passed. She was almost back in control again.

  Almost.

  Daniel didn’t have time to wonder about Monica’s quick retreat up the stairs. Heather took charge of him, leading him into the family room. He sat down in the chair opposite the sofa. Heather sat on the matching ottoman in front of him.

  “Guess what I forgot to tell you yesterday, Mr. Rourke?”

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  “I won a prize for a story I wrote in school. Mrs. Kline, my teacher, is gonna have me read it on Friday at the school carnival. All the kids who won will be reading their stuff. My best friend, Mary, won for her poem about horses, but I won for my short story.”

  “That’s terrific, Heather. What’s the prize?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a secret. I won’t know until Friday.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think you could come with us? To the carnival, I mean.”

  Daniel wished Monica would come back. He wasn’t sure what he should answer.

  “I just thought you might wanna hear my story, you bein’ a famous writer and all.”

  He was surprised by how good that made him feel, his daughter wanting him to hear her work.

  “Please come, Mr. Rourke. Mama’d like you to. I know she would. She thinks you’re real nice.”

  “Does she?” He glanced toward the stairs. If only it was as simple as Heather made it sound. Everybody liking everybody. No past to stumble over.

  “Sure, she does. I can tell. She’s never had a boyfriend like you who comes over a lot.”

  Before Daniel could respond, Monica appeared at the bottom of the staircase. She had changed into jeans and a white blouse, the long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her feet were bare. How was it she managed to look beautiful, even when dressed so simply?

  “Mama, I asked Mr. Rourke to go to the school carnival on Friday.” She ran across the room to where her mother stood. “That’s okay, isn’t it? You’d like him to come, too, wouldn’t you?”

  Monica’s and Daniel’s gazes met and held for an instant. He felt her tension. The air crackled with it.

  Don’t hurt Heather, her eyes seemed to say. Please don’t fail her like you failed me.

  Yes, he’d failed her. He’d told her he loved her, but he’d never wanted to make a real commitment to her or to marriage. Not when he’d thought the whole world was awaiting him elsewhere. So he’d intentionally driven her away from him, one angry word at a time.

  And look what that decision had cost him.

  Monica glanced at Heather. “We need to talk, honey.”

  “But what about the carnival—”

  “Let’s talk first. Sit down, please. On the sofa.”

  A puzzled expression crossed the child’s face as she moved to obey. Monica sat beside her daughter, then took hold of Heather’s hand, as if afraid the girl might run away.

  Daniel’s mouth was dry. He wished he could get himself a drink of water.

  “Heather, honey,” Monica began, her voice soft. “Mr. Rourke and I have something important to tell you.”

  Heather glanced between the two of them, then grinned that mischievous grin of hers. “Are you getting married? That’d be way cool.”

  Daniel hadn’t seen that one coming.

  “No,” Monica answered without looking in his direction. “No, we are not getting married. Where would you get such an idea?”

  “I can tell you like him a lot. And he keeps coming over. He’s awful nice and you always seem—”

  “Heather, please.” Monica’s tone was sharp. “That’s enough.”

  Daniel rose from his chair and crossed to the sofa. He moved by instinct now. He didn’t know what he planned to do or say.

  Heather turned to look at him as he sat on her other side. Her smile had vanished. Her mouth quivered, and she looked like she was fighting tears. He suspected her mother rarely raised her voice to scold.

  He took hold of her free hand. “Do me a favor, Heather. Just listen to your mom and me for a second, will you?”

  She nodded.

  “Remember we told you we knew each other when we were in college? Well, we actually were really good friends. We spent lots of time together, your mom and me. In fact, there was a time we talked about getting married. Only…only it didn’t work out.”

  Heather’s gray eyes watched him without blinking.

  Daniel felt beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. He should have thought this through better. How did you explain something like this to a ten-year-old? Did she understand the facts of life, all about the birds and bees and so forth? Just how much was enough?

  “Honey?” Monica said, drawing her daughter’s gaze. Her voice was once again gentle, controlled. “You know how sometimes you ask questions, and I tell you you’re too young to understand and that I’ll explain when you’re older? I’ve decided you’re old enough to know something now that I’ve never told you before.”

  “Okay.”

  Monica lifted her eyes toward Daniel. The look was brief, and yet it was long enough for him to wonder how different his life might have been had he married her, stayed in Boise, raised not only Heather but other children, too.

  She looked at Heather once again. “Heather, Daniel is your father.”

  The house seemed deathly quiet. So quiet he could hear the ticking of the sweep-second hand on his watch.

  Slowly Heather turned her head so she could look at him. “You’re my dad?”

  He nodded.

  “Honest?”

  “Honest.”

  “Why haven’t you come to see me before?”

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t know how to answer that question.

  Monica answered for him. “Because I never told him about you.”

  Confusion, hurt, hope. He saw it all in Heather’s eyes as she stared at him. It made him feel overwhelmingly inadequate.

  “So do you wanna see me now that you know?”

  “Yes,” he answered solemnly. “I do want to see you. I hope you’ll spend lots of time with me this summer.”

  She worried her lower lip with her teeth. Her eyes narrowed in thought. Finally she asked, “Can I call you Daddy?”

  The simple question caused a rush of emotion unlike anything he’d experienced before. If he tried for a hundred years, he’d be unable to define it. “Sure. I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.”

  “And are you gonna come to the carnival on Friday with us?”

  He glanced at Monica. She nodded her head.

  “I’ll be there,” he told Heather. “You can count on it.”

  She looked at her mother. “Can I go call Mary and tell her about my dad?”

  “I suppose it would be all right.”

  Quickly Heather was off the sofa and out of the roo
m, disappearing up the stairs. Her bedroom door closed behind her, then silence. Again, Daniel heard the ticking of his watch.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” he said after a lengthy pause.

  “No.”

  He turned toward Monica again. She was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “It isn’t going to be that easy, Daniel. We shouldn’t fool ourselves into thinking it will be.”

  “But she seemed okay with—”

  “She’s a child. It’s going to take time to work things through.”

  He heard what she was telling him. He didn’t know Heather the way she did. He couldn’t possibly understand how the girl was going to react to this or anything else.

  Would he ever know? Or was it already too late?

  Chapter Six

  Monica watched her daughter closely over the next few days, but it appeared she’d worried needlessly. Heather seemed delighted to have Daniel for a dad. In fact, if she was perfectly honest, Monica would have to admit she was more than a little jealous at how quickly Heather acclimated herself to having two parents instead of just one.

  Daniel arrived at the Fletcher house every day that week, shortly after the school bus discharged Heather and its other riders at the corner. Instead of sharing her day with her mom, as had been their habit since Heather started kindergarten, Heather shared the details with her dad. The two of them sat at the kitchen table, looking so alike with their matching black hair and gray eyes and heart-stopping grins.

  Monica understood her daughter’s excitement, but she still felt left out. Excluded. And she was ashamed of herself for feeling that way.

  On Thursday, Daniel arrived early, showing up at the door with several bags of groceries in his arms. “You’ve fed me every night this week,” he said in explanation. “I decided it’s time I returned the favor.”

  “You’re cooking?”

  “Do I detect skepticism in your voice, Ms. Fletcher?”

  She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

  He stepped around her. “I’m wounded to the quick.” His retort was softened by a chuckle.