Another Chance to Love You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Were you ever tempted to get married?” Her voice fell to just above a whisper. “After me, I mean.”

  He looked at the night sky, sipped his coffee, stroked Cotton’s head with his free hand. After a long while, he answered, “Once. I met a woman who was as career obsessed as me. Kit was her name. She traveled a lot. Her goal was to get a spot on network news. She’ll get it someday. She’s smart and pretty and has plenty of drive.”

  Were you in love with her?

  As if he’d heard the question, he turned toward Monica. “Maybe we were too much alike, Kit and I. Neither one of us invested much of ourselves in the relationship. We both stayed remote, emotionally, even after we decided to get married. Eventually we drifted apart.”

  “How sad.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “You know what’s really sad? I kept comparing her to you. Kit never could measure up.”

  Monica was caught off guard by his comment. She couldn’t have formed an intelligent reply if her life depended upon it.

  Thankfully the moment was broken by the ringing of the telephone. Monica mumbled an apology, then hurried inside to answer it.

  Before she could give a greeting, Doug Goodman’s voice interrupted her. “Fletch? Thank goodness you’re home.”

  “What is it, Doug?” She could tell by his tone that something was wrong.

  “The offices have been burglarized. It’s a real mess.”

  “Burglarized?”

  “The police are here now. You need to come down, Fletch.”

  “Of course.” Her voice cracked over the words. She cleared her throat, then repeated, “Of course. I’ll be there as quick as I can. Doug, do they have any idea who—”

  “Not yet. Listen, I’ve got to go. One of the officers needs to talk to me. Hurry.”

  “I will.”

  The line went dead.

  Monica stared at the receiver a moment before returning it to its cradle. Burglarized? Her offices? How was that possible?

  She heard the patio door close and turned around. Daniel watched her with a concerned gaze.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “The office has been broken into. Doug needs me there right away. The police have questions.” Her heart pounded. Her head reeled with the news.

  “Would you like me to come along? You could get your mother to stay with Heather, couldn’t you?”

  It was tempting to have Daniel accompany her. But if she asked Ellen to stay with Heather, she would have to face another interrogation by her mother about Daniel. She wasn’t ready for that. It would be easier to face the police alone.

  “No,” she answered at last. “I think it would be better if you stayed here with Heather. I’ll try not to be too long. Would you mind?”

  “Whatever you need from me.”

  Maybe later she would find a moment to contemplate his response. Right now, she needed to get downtown.

  Monica grabbed her sweater from the shelf in her walk-in closet. Then she picked up her day planner, grabbed her purse and descended the stairs. Daniel stood at the base. He put his hand out when she reached him, laying it on her shoulder.

  “You going to be okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, even though her heart still raced. “I don’t know why, but I feel frightened. As if the burglar were here or something.”

  With a nod of understanding, Daniel drew her into his arms and gave her a reassuring hug. “Call me if you need me,” he whispered near her ear.

  “Thanks.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Then she added, “I’m glad you were here.”

  “Me, too, sweetheart.”

  It was midnight before Monica pulled her minivan into the garage. The weariness she felt went beyond the lateness of the hour. It was something much more internal. It was a sense of violation that weighed heavily on her heart.

  It had seemed like the questions from the police officers would never end. No, Solutions didn’t keep anything but petty cash in the office. Yes, nearly all the employees had keys to the main door. No, no one but Monica and Doug knew the combination to the safe. Yes, they were fully insured. No… Yes… No…

  She tried not to think of the mess the burglars had left in their wake. She could understand the theft of computers and CD players and fax machines. What she couldn’t understand was the need to topple lamps and potted plants and to break picture frames and mirrors. She probably didn’t know the worst. Doug had done his best to shield her from it.

  With a deep sigh, she slid out of the minivan and went inside. Night-lights lit the hallway and staircase, and she followed their soft glow up to the second floor.

  Before going to her own room, she stopped at Heather’s. Her daughter lay amidst a jumble of blankets and sheets, her long black hair spreading across the pillowcase like spilled ink. She looked small and innocent, and Monica felt a sudden wave of protectiveness. How could she shelter Heather from the hurts of a cruel and out-of-control world? How could she make sure Heather never knew fear or pain or betrayal?

  The answer, of course, was that she couldn’t. Not really.

  Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away, then stepped over to the bed, leaned down and lightly kissed her daughter’s forehead.

  Heather rolled onto her side, murmuring, “Daddy?”

  “No, honey, it’s Mommy.”

  “Mmm.”

  Monica waited, but Heather was once again sound asleep.

  Monica straightened and turned toward the bedroom door, wondering where Daniel was. To be honest, she was so tired when she came in, she’d forgotten he’d volunteered to stay with Heather.

  Feeling bone weary, she descended the stairs. She already knew he wasn’t in the kitchen, since she’d come through that way from the garage. So she walked to the living room, pausing in the doorway.

  There was Daniel, sound asleep on the sofa, one arm lying across his forehead, the other hanging off the couch, his hand resting on the floor.

  As if sensing her there, he opened her eyes.

  Monica couldn’t seem to breathe.

  He sat up. “Are you all right?” His voice was low and gravelly with sleep.

  She nodded. Then the tears sprang up again. She choked on an unexpected sob. Before she realized he’d moved, he was off the sofa, across the room and holding her in a comforting embrace. He stroked her hair with one hand, rubbed her back with the other. His chin rested atop her head. His skin was warm against her cheek. He smelled good, a little bit cologne, a lot masculine. Strong and safe.

  “How can I help?” he asked.

  You can hold me forever, just like this. It’s been so long since I was held like this.

  “Monica?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll be okay, Daniel.” She drew back so she could look up at him. “Thanks for staying with Heather.”

  He peered intently into her eyes. “How bad was it?”

  “They took several computers, a fax machine, a couple of CD players. I’m not sure what else.” She shuddered. “It’s the unnecessary destruction that’s the worst part. The thieves seemed to take pleasure in breaking things. I’ll have to go back in the morning. There’ll be plenty of cleanup to do, and I’ll have to help Doug do a complete inventory.”

  “Need me to stay with Heather?”

  “Do you mind? She has dance lessons on Saturday mornings. I could ask Mother.”

  “No, I don’t mind. I want to.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She caught a ragged breath, reacting to the tender caress. No, I’m not all right. “Yes, I’m fine,” she lied.

  The air crackled, charged by a new awareness of each other. She wished…

  No, she didn’t wish it. She couldn’t wish it.

  “Monica?”

  She shook her head. “Good night, Daniel.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be off then. What time do you want me back in the morning?”

 
; “Nine?”

  “Okay. See you at nine.”

  Monica was both glad and sorry to see him go.

  Chapter Eight

  Daniel threw off the covers and slid his feet to the floor, pausing long enough to rake the fingers of both hands through his hair before standing. He yawned and stretched, then made his way into the connecting bathroom. He was in dire need of a hot shower, followed by a cup of coffee in order to clear the cobwebs from his brain.

  Monica was right, he told himself a few minutes later as he stood beneath a spray of water. He needed to focus on being a good dad and forget his feelings for her. They were too different. He had nothing to offer her. Certainly nothing she wanted.

  He worked shampoo into a lather as the issue repeated itself over and over again in his head.

  What did he want for himself? That was the real question. Where was he headed? What did the future hold? He had accomplished plenty in his life. He had an interesting job, financial security. Still, he knew something was missing. And the more he was around Heather and Monica, the more he wondered if they could fill that empty place within himself.

  The empty place inside himself…. He hadn’t thought of it that way before. He was exhausted, that was for certain. But empty?

  You’ve got a God-sized hole in your heart….

  Daniel stopped dead still, the shower spray rat-a-tatting against his shoulders. Who had said that to him? The words were so distinct. Had it been one of the subjects he’d interviewed?

  You’ve got a God-sized hole in your heart, Daniel, that only Jesus can fill. Don’t run away from Him. Run to Him.

  Stephanie. It was Stephanie, his stepmom, who’d said it. How could he have forgotten that? How could he have forgotten she was a Christian?

  Daniel—now it was Monica’s words he heard—if I ever become involved with a man again, he’ll have to share my love of Jesus. To do otherwise would be an enormous mistake.

  Monica wasn’t interested in a casual relationship with a man. She wanted love. She wanted a commitment. She wanted forever. And she wanted a man who shared her faith.

  She wanted too much.

  Only, was it too much?

  He turned off the water and reached for a towel.

  Of course it was too much. At least it was too much for him.

  You’ve got a God-sized hole in your heart, Daniel, that only Jesus can fill.

  He vigorously rubbed his head with the towel, as if trying to rub out Stephanie Rourke’s words from his memory. He didn’t much care for the way they made him feel—uncertain and unsteady.

  The memory didn’t go away. It was still with Daniel when he arrived at Monica’s an hour later. Nagging him. Nudging him. Causing him to question all that he believed to be true.

  “Have you had breakfast?” Monica asked as she led the way from the front door to the kitchen.

  “No. I didn’t take time.” Truth was, he’d been so bothered by his thoughts, he’d forgotten to eat. Now he realized he was hungry.

  “Well, you’re welcome to join us. We got a late start this morning.”

  “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  “Hi, Dad!” Heather called to him from the table. “Wait’ll you see the newspaper.”

  He glanced at Monica. “It made the news?” he asked, referring to the break-in at Solutions.

  She nodded. “You still like your eggs over hard?”

  “Please.” After pouring himself a cup of coffee, he walked to the table and looked down at page two of the Boise Herald’s local section. He didn’t see what he’d expected. Instead his own publicity photograph stared back at him.

  “What’s this?” he muttered as he picked up the paper and began to read.

  Attendees at the Purple Sage Elementary School’s year end carnival and honors program last evening had an unexpected treat in store for them when it was revealed that fifth-grader Heather Fletcher is the daughter of the well-known reporter Daniel Rourke. Mr. Rourke was seen applauding loudly after Miss Fletcher read her short story, entitled Cotton Summer, a sort of modern-day fairy tale about a dog.

  But it was Mr. Rourke’s presence that commanded attention from the moment he was introduced to the crowd of parents and children. Mr. Rourke, author of…

  The rest of the article was about his Boise roots, his accomplishments in Chicago, his coverage of the Henderson trial and his book. The last line was a quote from his editor:

  “I never knew Daniel had a daughter, but if he does, it’s no surprise to me that she’s won a writing award.”

  Garth Johnson must have got Charley out of bed last night to get that quote before the paper went to press.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Heather asked when he looked up. “I’ve never been in the paper before. Have I, Mama?”

  “No, honey, you haven’t.” To Daniel, Monica said, “Sit down, please. Your eggs are ready.” She placed a plate on the table.

  He gave her a hard look, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth. Her entire body looked stiff.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, but he knew it was a lie.

  “You don’t look like you slept much.”

  “I didn’t.”

  He wanted to ask if it was because of Solutions or because of him. She didn’t give him a chance to do either.

  “I told Heather what happened and why you’ll be taking her to her lessons. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Probably all day. You can reach me on my mobile phone if you need me. There’s a note with all the directions over by the phone.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us.”

  “Okay.” She sidestepped from under his hand. “I’d better get going.” She dropped a quick kiss on top of Heather’s head. “Mind your dad.”

  “I will.”

  Monica avoided looking at Daniel as she headed toward the hall.

  “Hey, Mama.”

  She stopped and glanced behind her.

  “I’m sorry about what happened at work. I hope the police find everything all right.”

  Monica offered a weak smile. “Thanks, honey.”

  Daniel ate his breakfast, accompanied by Heather’s bright chatter. It still amazed him how much one little girl could talk. He wondered if they were all as gregarious as Heather or if his daughter was unique.

  When they finished eating, Daniel cleared the table and put the dishes into the dishwasher. Seeing it was full, he looked for the detergent beneath the sink, then filled the soap dispensers and started the wash cycle. Finally he went over to the telephone and picked up the note of instructions Monica had left for him.

  Dance lessons were at eleven. The note told him where her leotards and ballet shoes were and gave directions on how to find the studio. It also said Heather had a project to complete for Sunday school.

  No friends over until she’s done. No going to a friend’s house today at all. Not even Mary’s.

  “What’s your Sunday school project?” he asked.

  “I’m doing a poster about the Good Samaritan.”

  “Need any help?”

  “Sure.”

  This fatherhood stuff was a piece of cake, Daniel thought as his daughter grinned at him. He didn’t know why he’d been nervous. Heather had been perfect since the day he’d met her. The credit had to go to Monica, of course, but it didn’t make Daniel any less proud.

  He looked at his watch. “Hey, listen. We need to get your things for dance class together and leave.”

  “I’ll go get ready,” Heather replied as she hopped up from her chair. Then she dashed out of sight.

  Yes, sirree. This fatherhood stuff was a piece of cake.

  Monica sat on the floor of the file room, sorting through the papers that had been strewn hither and yon by the intruders. She didn’t know whether to cry again or to scream in rage. She wanted to do both.

  Doug, bless his heart, had cataloged all the missing equipment and
prepared a document that included the serial numbers, makes and models and any other needed information for the insurance company. He’d assured Monica that most of it would be covered.

  But no one could reimburse her for the less tangible losses. She no longer felt secure. Instead she felt vulnerable. She couldn’t explain it. She only knew it was true.

  It didn’t help that Daniel’s presence had added to that vulnerability.

  As tired as she’d been last night when she returned from the office, she still hadn’t been able to sleep. She hadn’t been able to shake the memory of Daniel holding her in his arms. She hadn’t been able to rid her nostrils of the wonderful scent of him or the feel of his warm skin against her cheek.

  “Why did you have to come back, Daniel?” she whispered. “I don’t want to deal with this.”

  But she was going to have to deal with it, she silently admitted. Because Doug was right when he’d suggested she was falling in love with Daniel all over again. And loving him could only break her heart a second time.

  “How’s it coming?”

  She glanced up. Doug stood in the doorway to the file room. She seldom saw her friend dressed in casual attire. He was much more of a nice-suit-and-tie sort of guy, the kind of man who worked hard and was dependable. He was the sort of man you could count on, a good friend whose word stood for something solid. A man who didn’t seek fame or fortune but who had much more “down home” expectations and goals.

  Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with you? she wondered.

  Aloud, she answered him, “It’s daunting. Half the stuff I don’t know what to do with. I’ll have to leave it for Terri and Claudia to figure out, I guess.”

  “So leave it. You don’t have to do it all yourself. No one will expect you to.”

  “Doug?”

  He inclined his head. “Yeah?”

  “I’m in love with him.”

  “I know.”

  She smiled weakly. “Maybe I never stopped loving him.”