Heather hopped out of the minivan, oblivious to her mother’s disturbing thoughts.
Maybe a summer will be enough.
Monica removed the key from the ignition and reached for the door handle.
Liar.
A summer wouldn’t be enough. She still wanted it all—church wedding, husband, family, home, a lifetime together, happily ever after—but she couldn’t see an answer to the dilemma. She knew Daniel’s drive for success better than anyone. Once he was back in Chicago, in the thick of things, he would forget Monica and Heather.
Don’t borrow trouble for tomorrow. That was the advice the Bible gave. Monica decided it would be good advice to follow at the moment. Her heart would be no more and no less broken if she loved Daniel through the summer than if she tried to end it now.
“Mama? You coming?”
She nodded, hoping Heather could see her. She couldn’t be sure since she was suddenly blinded by tears.
Daniel whistled an old Rolling Stones tune as he smoothed his hair with the brush one last time. Then he stepped back and surveyed himself in the mirror.
He wore his favorite Armani suit. Charcoal-colored with the finest of pinstripes. He always felt like a winner when he wore this suit, as if he could conquer the world. Tonight was more important than that. Tonight he wanted to conquer Monica’s heart.
It hadn’t been easy, settling for phone calls this past week, but he’d made himself do it. He’d hoped some absence might make her heart grow fonder. And he thought his plan had succeeded, at least a little. The flowers hadn’t hurt his cause, either. Funny how good it had felt, sending that bouquet to her.
Whistling once again, he grabbed his wallet off the dresser and headed for the one-car garage attached to the house.
It took a lot of self-control not to speed across town, but somehow he managed. The reservation he’d made at one of Boise’s toniest restaurants wasn’t for another hour, so he had plenty of time to pick up Monica and drive back downtown.
A quick glance to his right confirmed that the corsage was still on the passenger seat beside him. He’d given the florist precise instructions about it—a single pale pink calla lily with a sprig of baby’s breath and a white ribbon. The woman had done a good job of recreating the corsage Daniel had given Monica all those years ago.
It’s been years since a man sent me flowers.
He felt an unexpected sadness as those words repeated in his mind. After all, he was partially responsible. She’d had a daughter to raise. His daughter. A lot of men didn’t want to take on the responsibility of a stepchild, so they avoided single mothers.
“Idiots,” he muttered.
Any guy with a brain would count himself lucky if he could win her heart.
Daniel hoped beyond hope that his own luck would hold.
A short while later, Daniel strode up the walk toward Monica’s front door, his stomach tied in knots. He felt like a high school kid on his first date. Even his palms were sweaty.
His nerves didn’t calm down any when Monica opened the door a few moments after he’d rung the doorbell. She was so beautiful, it nearly knocked him off his feet.
She wore a dusty rose dress that fell gracefully into waves of fabric that stopped just above her knees. Her necklace was a simple heart-shaped pendant made from Black Hills gold. Matching earrings dangled from her earlobes.
“Wow!”
Her smile was shy.
“Wow.”
“You said that already.”
“I meant it.” He held out the corsage. “For you.”
“Oh, Daniel.”
He thought there might be a shimmer of tears in her eyes as she took the clear plastic box from him.
“You remembered,” she whispered. “It looks just the same.”
He remembered lots more than the calla lilies. He remembered the way she’d looked in the morning, with the sunlight reflecting in her golden hair. He remembered the way she used to run across the campus to meet him for a few moments between classes. He remembered sitting in front of a blazing fire and listening as she shared her dreams, her hopes, her heart.
He remembered…
She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
He didn’t know whether to be glad Heather had chosen this moment to show herself or not. He cleared his throat, then smiled as he looked toward his daughter. “Hi, yourself.”
“Boy, you look handsome.”
“Thanks. You look good yourself. Got a hug for your old man? I’ve missed you.”
Heather raced forward and threw herself into his embrace. “I’m really sorry I was so nasty to you after dance class last week. I shouldn’t’ve been.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t handle things better. I shouldn’t have threatened to spank you. I wouldn’t, you know.” He leaned down to eye level with her. “I told you I was going to have to learn this father stuff. Forgiven?”
She nodded. Then she whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you’re taking Mama out.”
“Me, too,” he whispered in return. He straightened. “You ready?” he asked Monica.
“Mother should be here any moment. Then we can leave.”
Once again, he looked down at Heather. “Are you all packed and ready to go camping?”
“I sure am. Want to see my stuff?” She grabbed his hand. “Come on. You can tell me if I’m missing anything.” She tugged him toward the stairs.
Daniel glanced at Monica.
“Go on,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ll call you when Mother gets here.”
The lighting in the Restaurant Magnifique was muted, making the dining room seem intimate even though it was filled to capacity. Five minutes after their reservation time, Monica and Daniel were taken to a secluded table in a far corner.
The maître d’ pulled out a chair for Monica and, after she was seated, handed her a menu. “Your waiter will be Robert.” He spoke with a thick French accent. “He will be with you shortly. I hope you enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” Monica replied, trying not to gawk at her surroundings.
A candle flickered in the middle of the table, its light reflected in the crystal goblets, the gold-rimmed china plates and the gold table service. The carpet was thick and lush underfoot. The linen tablecloths were a brilliant white, as were the napkins in their ornate gold rings. Enormous original oil paintings decorated the walls, the pictures depicting what appeared to be Paris street scenes from the 1800s—women in bustled gowns and men in top hats and hansom cabs pulled by sleek horses. In another corner, a formally attired young woman played familiar love songs on a grand piano.
“This place is incredible,” Monica told Daniel in a hushed voice. “I’d heard it was fancy, but this is beyond anything I’d imagined.”
“You’ve never eaten here before?”
She sent him an amused smile. “I’m a single mom. We’re more familiar with fast food.”
But as she looked at Daniel, she thought how perfectly he fit into this elegant environment. He probably ate in restaurants like this all the time in Chicago. He probably didn’t even pay attention to the prices listed in the menus.
She knew so little about the world he lived in, she realized. Her lifestyle must be simple in comparison. Yes, she’d enjoyed her own brand of success, but she still lived quite the ordinary, middle-class life. She owned a home with a sizable mortgage, drove a three-year-old minivan, had an active, school-aged daughter and cleaned up after a dog of unknown breed who liked to dig in her flower beds and bury dog biscuits in the middle of the lawn. Daniel drove bright red convertibles, not minivans.
“Hey, why so serious?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He leaned forward. “Well, whatever it is that’s making you frown, forget it. This is your night to enjoy.”
There was so much tenderness in his voice she couldn’t help but respond to it. She smiled. “All right.”
“Shall we star
t with escargots?”
“Snails?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never eaten them before.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Thirty-three years old and never had snails smothered in butter and garlic? Well, we’d better take care of that. It’s an experience not to be missed.”
Their waiter arrived at that moment. He introduced himself as Robert, welcomed them to the Restaurant Magnifique, then invited them to start their meal with an appetizer and beverage. Daniel ordered escargot and a bottle of sparkling cider.
Monica remembered another night when they had shared sparkling cider, seated on the floor before a roaring fire, talking and laughing, leaning their backs against the sofa. Their lives had stretched before them, promising great happiness. Oh, how naive she’d been. She hadn’t discovered yet that life came with hard lessons to be learned. That she would know joy, but she would also know sorrow.
“Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” Daniel asked softly.
Her heart fluttered as their gazes met across the table. She acknowledged his question with a nod, her throat too tight to answer.
“Then I’m telling you again, because you should hear it often. Monica, you’re beautiful.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She was out of practice, she supposed. She wasn’t used to getting this kind of compliment from a man any more than she was used to eating in a restaurant like this one.
She turned her gaze away from him, looking across the dining room toward the pianist at the grand piano. “She’s very good, isn’t she?” Monica closed her eyes. “I’ve always liked that Olivia Newton-John song. ‘I Honestly Love You.’”
“I honestly love you.”
Her heart leapt at the way he repeated the song’s title. It almost sounded as if…
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. Her breath caught in her chest, and she thought surely the people at neighboring tables would be able to hear the rapid pounding of her heart.
Was it possible he felt the same thing she did? Was it possible he’d meant those words as they’d sounded?
Robert’s return broke their locked gazes. While the waiter poured the sparkling cider into their goblets, Monica tried to still her racing pulse by taking deep, slow breaths.
Robert said, “Your appetizers will be out in a few more minutes.”
“Thank you.” Daniel’s gaze returned to Monica. He lifted his glass toward her in a salute. “To summer…and beyond.”
There went her heart again, slamming against her ribs, making it difficult to breathe, making it difficult to think clearly. She raised her goblet. “To summer…and beyond,” she echoed him, then took a sip.
Everything became a sort of blur after that. Perhaps it was because Daniel watched her with tenderness swirling in the depths of his silvery gray eyes. Or perhaps it was her own traitorous heart, a heart that loved him despite common sense, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t.
Or perhaps it was a combination of both those things.
Whatever it was, she felt vulnerable. “Daniel?”
“Hmm?”
“Be careful with me.”
“I will, Monica,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “I promise.”
Chapter Eleven
Monica slept little that night. The bed seemed cold and much too large. She kept remembering the elegant dinner with Daniel. It had been more wonderful than she’d imagined it would be.
It had also been more dangerous than she’d expected.
Be careful with me, she had pleaded, knowing her heart could be broken now that she loved him again.
And Daniel had answered, I will, Monica. I promise.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe they had a future together as a family. But how? Even if he wanted marriage, even if he continued going to church with her and became a Christian, his job was in Chicago and hers was in Boise. She realized there were couples who had long-distance marriages, but Monica didn’t want to be one of them. Could she leave her home, her church, her parents, her friends and her business if Daniel asked her to? And if she couldn’t, wouldn’t it be wiser to call things off now?
By the time wispy clouds in the eastern sky were tinged pink by dawn’s first light, Monica was wondering about the wisdom of her and Heather spending a weekend with Daniel. Maybe she was setting herself up for more heartache. Yes, she had promised to give him the summer. But what did that mean, after all? What did he want from her? Or did he know?
With a groan, she cast off the blanket and sheet and got out of bed. She was tired of so many questions that didn’t have answers. She’d go mad if she kept thinking about it.
She showered, then dried her hair and put it in a ponytail. She didn’t bother with makeup except for some mascara.
A short while later, wearing khaki shorts, a cotton shirt and new hiking boots, purchased especially for this weekend, she went to Heather’s room to wake her. She was too late; her daughter was up and dressed.
“Is Daddy here yet?” she asked the moment Monica opened her door. Her eyes sparkled in anticipation.
“Not yet. We’d better eat breakfast so we’ll be ready when he arrives.”
“Should I carry this stuff downstairs first?”
Monica smiled. “Okay. I’ll help you.”
Heather led the way, lugging her duffel bag with one hand and carrying a pillow tucked under her other arm. “Daddy said he’s gonna teach me how to fish. And if I catch anything, he says we’ll eat it for dinner. D’ya think I’ll catch a fish, Mama?”
“I don’t know, honey. You might.”
“I sure hope so. Mary said her dad’s never taken her camping or fishing. She said she’s gonna ask him to, next time she goes for a visit with him and her stepmom.”
Heather couldn’t have any idea how her words affected Monica. If she and Daniel didn’t make things work between them, then Heather would be shuffled between them for visits, just as Mary was between her divorced parents. Monica had been willing to accept that possibility a few weeks ago. But now that she loved Daniel, now that she knew how much he loved his daughter…
“You want some toast, Mama?” Heather asked as she headed for the kitchen.
With a catch in her heart, she answered, “Okay,” even though she wasn’t the least bit hungry.
Daniel drove Monica’s minivan along Highway 55, following the churning Payette River. The water was high from spring runoff, and kayakers were out in force on this early summer Saturday to experience one of the top white-water rivers in the country.
About midway in their drive, Daniel stopped at one of the many turnouts along the two-lane highway. They got out of the van and stood on the ridge above the river so they could watch the men and women in wet suits who braved the icy waters below. The river plowed over rocks and boulders, white foam splashing high in the air. Reflections of sunlight created multiple minirainbows above the brightly colored kayaks that skimmed, plunged, rolled and turned in the water. It was obvious these kayakers weren’t novices. They knew exactly what they were doing. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have a prayer.
Monica and Heather both squealed as a kayak turned upside down immediately below them. A second later, it was up-righted by the kayaker’s oar. The man grinned at Monica as he spun his lightweight canoe to face upriver, then paddled against the flow of water, waiting for one of his colleagues.
Show-off, Daniel thought. He draped a proprietary arm around Monica and another around Heather.
“This is way cool!” Heather exclaimed, looking up at him.
“Yeah, it is.” But he didn’t mean watching the kayakers. He meant being with her and her mother. He glanced at Monica and wondered if this would be the weekend he should tell her he loved her.
No, he decided. He needed to prove some things to her. He understood that. She cared about him. She might even love him. But she was scared. She had no reason to trust him yet with the things that were most important to her. He had to show her he was a man who
could be trusted, and he would have to do it carefully. If he rushed her, he might lose her for good.
“Well, campers,” he said with a determinedly cheerful voice, “let’s move along. I’d like to get camp set up before noon.”
The remainder of the drive to Ponderosa State Park, a campground on the banks of Payette Lake, went swiftly. Heather taught her parents several songs she’d learned the previous year at Girl Scout camp, and the three of them sung them with varying degrees of skill. They often ended a verse with gales of laughter over their own performance. When singing got old, they played the alphabet game, searching roadside signs for words that began with each of the twenty-six letters of the alphabet. The trick, of course, was finding them in order.
It was past ten-thirty when the merry campers arrived at the state park. Daniel went into the ranger station to register them for a campsite while Monica and Heather used the ladies’ rest room. By eleven o’clock, they’d found their site, a spot on a knoll overlooking the lake.
“Can I go down and see the beach?” Heather asked, glancing from one parent to the other. “Just for a minute?”
“Sure,” Daniel answered. “But stay where we can see you.”
Heather darted off with Cotton galloping after her.
“Daniel, she should have helped us set up camp before she got to play.”
He looked over his shoulder, meeting Monica’s gaze. It was obvious she wasn’t happy with the decision he’d made. “It couldn’t hurt for a few minutes, could it? She’s been cooped up in the car for a couple of hours.”
“So have we.”
“Then maybe you and I should join her.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s see how cold the water is.”
Monica tried to maintain her scowl of disapproval but failed. Daniel was too hard to resist, especially when he smiled at her that way. She took hold of his hand and allowed him to pull her down the path to the swimming area.
Heather had made her way to a deserted stretch of beach, away from the dock and those who were soaking up the early summer sun while seated on short-legged chairs or lying on oversize beach towels. She threw a piece of driftwood for the dog and laughed as Cotton chased it, tossing sand and water in every direction with her big paws.
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