Another Chance to Love You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Daniel’s grip tightened on Monica’s hand. “Thanks.”

  She looked at him, but he was watching Heather.

  “Thanks for not getting an abortion or giving her up for adoption. I know you could have. I know it might have been easier.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Thanks for letting me be her father.”

  Wordlessly she squeezed his hand in return. A wave of hope washed over her in that instant.

  Maybe…

  Just maybe…

  Daniel cleared his throat, then called to Heather, “How cold’s the water?”

  “Like ice.”

  “Still want to go swimming later?”

  “You bet!”

  He chuckled and softly said, “Kids don’t feel the cold like we do, do they?” He didn’t wait for Monica to answer before calling to Heather, “Come on, squirt. We’ve got a couple tents to put up, and I need your help.”

  “Okay, Daddy. Cotton. Come here, girl. Let’s go.”

  Heather raced up the trail and whizzed right past her parents, her dog at her heels as usual. Daniel draped an arm over Monica’s shoulders, and the two of them proceeded more slowly toward their campsite.

  They must look like a real family, Monica thought, and that fluttering, butterfly-wings feeling filled her stomach once again.

  The setting up of the first tent was an occasion none of them would soon forget.

  The large canvas tent was old, and the instructions had long since disappeared. Daniel had thought he would remember exactly which pole went in what loop. It was soon obvious he’d been mistaken.

  The third time the tent collapsed, this time with Daniel trapped inside, Heather was felled by the giggles. Monica laughed so hard she had to sit down. Their amusement only grew worse when Daniel finally poked his head out of the tent.

  Gasping for breath and trying not to laugh himself, he pretended an offense he didn’t feel. “You sure know how to hurt a guy. Making fun of him when he’s down. There’s only so much the male ego can take.”

  “Poor baby,” Monica replied with an amused shake of her head, tears running down her cheeks.

  He lifted one eyebrow. “You’ll think ‘poor baby’ when you have to sleep on the ground under the stars instead of inside this tent. It could rain on you, you know.”

  “McCall has several nice hotels,” she countered, unfazed by his threat.

  Daniel cast a horrified look in Heather’s direction. “A hotel? Are we going to stay in a hotel?”

  “No!” his daughter exclaimed, then started giggling again.

  “I should think not.” He grunted. He muttered something else about a man’s pride as he returned to work.

  Somehow he and Heather straightened out the poles and ropes and stakes. At long last, the girls’ canvas abode rose victoriously from the forest floor—and remained standing.

  Puffing out his chest, Daniel turned toward Monica who was, by this time, preparing a lunch of sandwiches made with cold cuts and cheese. “There,” he said. “I told you we could do it.”

  She put down the knife she’d been using to spread mustard and applauded them. “Very good, Mr. Rourke. Most impressive. And you, too, Heather. But perhaps you should get your tent upright, too, before you start bragging.”

  “You mock us, Ms. Fletcher. I can tell. Be careful,” he warned, “or you might find yourself taking a dunking in the lake.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He chuckled ominously. “Wouldn’t I?” He moved toward her with deliberate, threatening steps. “Push me a little more and see what happens.”

  “Stop right there.” Monica picked up the knife again and waved it in his direction. “Or I’ll add sweet pickles to your potato salad.”

  He grinned. She’d remembered he didn’t like pickles in his potato salad. All these years, and she’d remembered a little thing like that.

  He raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Truce?”

  She smiled back at him. “Truce.”

  “I think for a truce to be binding it has to be sealed with a kiss.”

  Monica glanced toward Heather.

  “Go on and kiss him, Mama.”

  Daniel advanced. Monica put down the knife.

  He took hold of her upper arms and drew her toward him. She allowed her head to drop back as she rose on tiptoe.

  He stopped smiling. So did she.

  He kissed her. She kissed him back.

  They belonged together, he thought as he tasted the sweetness of her mouth.

  He knew it, and so did she.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Daniel drove the minivan north along a dirt road.

  It had been about nineteen years since he’d come with his dad to this fishing spot on the river that joined the upper and lower Payette Lakes. Daniel didn’t have many good memories about his father, but the few he had were almost all tied to fishing. Richard Rourke had first brought his son to this spot when Daniel was about six or seven years old. He remembered catching a big trout that day, and he remembered the way his dad had slapped him on the back and praised him for a job well-done.

  He glanced over at Heather. She was staring out the window with an eager expression on her pretty face. His heart slammed against his ribs, driven there by a feeling of love so strong it knocked the breath right out of him.

  Watching the road ahead of him once again, he couldn’t help marveling over all that had happened to him in the past few weeks. From a work-obsessed bachelor in Chicago to a dad on an Idaho fishing trip with his ten-year-old daughter. Who would have believed it? And who would have believed he’d feel this way about it?

  “Mom should’ve come with us,” Heather said, interrupting his thoughts. “She wasn’t gonna do anything but read a book. She’d’ve had more fun with us.”

  “I’m not so sure.” He chuckled. “I think she was glad to see us go so she could relax in that lounge chair. I’ll bet she’s taking a nap.”

  “This is gonna be more fun.”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

  Daniel spied his turnoff and followed it off the main road. The van bumped its way over a narrow track, tall brush and trees shading the way before them. He was just beginning to wonder if he’d taken a wrong turn when the trail opened up before him into a small meadow. This was it. The old fishing spot. And luckily, no one else had beat them to it.

  “We’re here,” he said as he applied the brakes.

  They had barely come to a halt before Heather unbuckled her seat belt and was out of the van. She opened the sliding door on the passenger side and retrieved the fishing poles.

  “Did you catch lots of fish here, Daddy, when you were a boy?”

  Daniel lifted the tackle box with one hand. “I caught a few.”

  “I’m gonna catch a really big one, and then we’re gonna fry it and have it for dinner.”

  “I hope so, squirt.” He mussed her bangs. “I sure hope so.” He rolled the door closed, locked the van, then picked up the tackle box and his fishing pole. “Let’s go.”

  The sun was warm on his back as he followed a trail through tall brush and past stands of aspen. The song of the river, gurgling over smooth stones, serenaded them even while it was out of view.

  He thought about his dad again, remembered the red flannel shirt Richard had worn fishing and that ugly military green hat with fish hooks stuck in its crown. Tall and ruggedly handsome, Richard Rourke had loved the outdoors. He’d loved to hunt and fish, loved to escape into the wilderness.

  The only times Daniel remembered the two of them being even remotely close had been in the mountains on trips like this one. Maybe it was because out here they could be two males playing the heap-big hunters. Maybe because his dad didn’t have to act like a father out here but could be a pal, and that’s all he’d wanted to be to Daniel.

  He hoped Heather wouldn’t look back someday and think, That time we went fishing when I was ten was the best time I ever had with my dad.

  He wan
ted Heather to have so many “best times” she couldn’t possibly remember them all.

  Monica laid the book she was reading on her chest and stared up at the patch of sky she could see above the swaying ponderosa pines. She took a deep breath of clean, crisp air. How glad she was she’d agreed to come with Daniel. She literally felt the tension draining out of her. Even if she tried, she couldn’t have concentrated on the work awaiting her at the office. And so she didn’t try.

  She closed her eyes, smiling as the memory of Daniel’s most recent kiss flowed over her. Something special was happening between them. She’d sensed it in that moment. She’d felt some of her fear of the unknown dissipating. She’d felt herself beginning to trust him. Really trust him. She couldn’t say why. She only knew it was true.

  Her thoughts drifted to Heather. Her daughter was so happy being with Daniel. Monica used to think Heather didn’t miss having a father around, but she couldn’t fool herself about that anymore. Heather would be heartbroken when he returned to Chicago.

  She looked up at the sky again. “Chicago,” she whispered. God, what is the answer? Please show me what You want for us.

  She’d never wanted to live anywhere but Boise. She’d hated those months in Salt Lake City while she awaited Heather’s arrival. And not just because of her situation. Salt Lake was too big, too strange. Boise was home.

  Could she possibly be happy living in a city like Chicago? The winters were harsher there. The summers were hot and humid. There was the traffic, the crime, the crowds of people. And no mountains. Monica was an Idaho girl, a hometown girl. Boise represented everything safe and familiar and comfortable in her life. She didn’t want to leave it.

  But if she loved Daniel, really loved him—and if the other impediments were resolved—wouldn’t that be enough to make her happy there? Shouldn’t she be willing to make a sacrifice to be with him? Wasn’t love enough?

  Of course, he hadn’t told her he loved her yet, let alone proposed marriage. She could be jumping the gun, even supposing. But if he did love her, if he did propose, wouldn’t she be wise to know what her answer would be?

  “Chicago,” she said again, louder this time, then added, “and Daniel.”

  The two together didn’t sound so bad.

  Oh, Father-God, show me Your will for us.

  They dined that evening on two rainbow and two brook trout. Heather took credit for three of the four fish, as well as for the largest catch of the day. Monica had never tasted anything better.

  As dusk painted wispy clouds in shades of lavender, pink and peach, Daniel built up the campfire, and they roasted marshmallows on straightened wire hangers and made s’mores with graham crackers and chocolate bars. By the time brilliant stars twinkled against an inky black sky, Daniel, Monica and Heather had eaten their fill and begun singing camp songs in soft voices that blended together perfectly.

  With the heat of the fire on her face and the glow of happiness in her heart, Monica didn’t feel the evening’s chill. She felt warm and wonderful. Even more so when Daniel unexpectedly took her hand in his, squeezing it gently.

  Heather’s eyes began to droop, despite her efforts to stay awake as long as her parents were up. Finally she gave in to her exhaustion. Monica went into their tent with her daughter, helping her to undress and put on a warm nightshirt. Heather was asleep within seconds of zipping closed her sleeping bag.

  After Monica returned to the campfire, now burned down to glowing red coals, she and Daniel sat together, once again holding hands. Neither of them spoke. It seemed enough tonight to simply be together. Their silence wasn’t strained; it was comfortable.

  Around them, they could hear the sounds of other campers. Closing of trailer doors. A mother’s soft words to a child. The bark of a dog, followed by a reprimand from its owner. Little by little, even these sounds faded away, until it seemed only Monica and Daniel remained in the forest. The only sounds that remained were those of nature—the lapping of the lake upon its shores, the crackle of the wood fire and the night breeze whispering through the pines.

  Monica laid her head against Daniel’s shoulder and stared up at the starry sky through the swaying trees as the words of a favorite psalm repeated in her mind: The Lord is king! Let the earth rejoice! Let the farthest islands be glad. Clouds and darkness surround Him. Righteousness and justice are the foundation of His throne. Fire goes forth before Him and burns up all His foes. His lightning flashes out across the world. The earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt like wax before the Lord, before the Lord of all the earth. The heavens declare His righteousness; every nation sees His glory.

  “Monica?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do you think there’s a God-sized hole in my heart?”

  Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him as she wanted to. She tried to keep her voice steady as she answered, “Everyone does until they find the truth.”

  “The truth.” He spoke the word almost like a prayer.

  Oh, Lord. Speak to Daniel. Let him hear Your voice in his heart. Let him know the truth so the truth can set him free.

  Daniel tightened his arm around Monica. “Since tomorrow’s Sunday, maybe we could go to that little church we drove past on the way in. What do you think?

  By now her heart was fluttering like a captured bird. “That would be nice, Daniel. I’d like that.” Then, silently, she gave thanks to God.

  The pastor of the little country church looked to be as old and grizzled as the mountains surrounding them, but he had a powerful preaching style that belied his small stature. The sermon was about the time Jesus healed a beggar who’d been blind from birth. The Pharisees weren’t pleased, and they tried to trick the beggar into saying Jesus was a sinner. From that basic story, he took the members of the congregation to many different passages of Scripture. And with each passing minute, Daniel felt something happening inside him, something he couldn’t quite define.

  Finally, the pastor leaned over the pulpit, saying, “And then the man answered the Pharisees, ‘I know this—I was blind, and now I can see!’”

  That’s what it was like for Daniel. He’d been blind, and he could see. Suddenly, everything anyone had said to him over the years about religion, about Christianity, about God, about Jesus, seemed to fall into place. It hadn’t made sense, and now it did. He’d once scoffed at God, and now he knew he wanted more of that love. He knew he wanted more of God.

  “Are you ready to commit yourself to the Lord?” the pastor asked, breaking through the cacophony of emotions swirling in Daniel’s chest.

  Yes! Daniel responded. I’m ready.

  “Then let’s pray,” the pastor added. “Father-God…

  Daniel took hold of Monica’s hand and held on for all he was worth.

  Although her eyes were closed, Monica sensed something important was taking place. Last night Daniel had asked if she thought he had a God-sized hole in his heart. Last night she had told him everyone did until they found the truth. Now she prayed that hole had been filled by the only One who could fill it.

  When she looked at him a few moments later, she knew in her spirit that her prayer had been answered. Thank You, Lord. Thank You.

  It was hard not to pepper Daniel with questions as soon as they were outside the church. She wanted to know everything he felt, everything he thought. But she was wise enough to wait for him to broach the subject on his own.

  The waiting was torture.

  Born again. It was a phrase Daniel had once mocked. But now it made sense to him. He felt new inside. Clean. Reborn.

  He pondered the feelings as he drove the van back to the state park. He pondered them as he walked with Heather and Cotton down to the beach so his daughter could give the dog some exercise. It wasn’t until father, daughter and dog were headed back to the campsite that he realized he had found the very thing Monica required in a husband—faith.

  He saw her, standing at the camp stove, and his heart shouted, Ask her to marry
you!

  His mouth went dry. His heart began to race.

  Do it! You can be the right kind of husband to her now.

  What if she refused him?

  Ask her now! This is your family. Monica and Heather. You belong together, the three of you.

  What if it was too soon?

  Do it! Do it! Do it!

  While Heather disappeared into the larger tent, Daniel stepped up behind Monica. “Marry me,” he said softly, before he lost his nerve.

  He heard her tiny gasp an instant before she turned to face him.

  “Marry me, Monica.”

  Her expression sober, she searched his eyes with hers. “Why should I, Daniel?”

  “Because I love you. Because I love Heather.” He paused a moment before adding, “And because I love God.”

  Tears glittered in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He gathered her into his arms. “I love you, Monica. Marry me.”

  Her tears fell, streaking down her cheeks. “I love you, too. I guess I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  “Then say yes.”

  “There are so many things to consider.”

  He kissed her forehead. “None that can’t be worked out.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “None that matter.” He kissed her on the mouth. “It only matters that we get married and be together. The three of us.”

  “We shouldn’t rush.”

  He smiled. “We aren’t rushing. It’s taken us over eleven years longer than it should have.”

  “Oh, Daniel.” She hid her face against his chest.

  “Say yes.”

  “But—”

  “Say yes.”

  “What if—”

  “Monica…say yes.”

  She looked at him again. Her eyes still glittered with tears, but a hesitant smile curved the corners of her mouth. “Yes.”

  He sealed her acquiescence with a kiss.

  “When?” Heather asked immediately after her parents announced their decision. “When are you gonna get married?”