Second Chance Dad

by Angela Benson

But Monique had snared an older man before. She’d married one and given Dillon’s son the man’s name. How could she have been so uncaring of his feelings? he wondered again. Then she had the nerve to say she’d done what she did because she loved him. What kind of fool did she think he was?

  Shaking off the negative thoughts, Dillon grabbed a legal pad and got up from his desk. He and Monique had a child together and they had to work together. While he would not have chosen to be in her presence as often as situations would force them to be together, he knew he could deal with it. All he had to do was learn to be around her without allowing his feelings—past or present—to get in the way.

  He considered techniques for accomplishing this feat as he made his way to the library. At work, he’d treat her with utmost professionalism. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t have to see each other except for casual passings in the halls and during weekly staff meetings. That shouldn’t be too hard to handle. Though her role as the mother of his child and as someone Calvin had come to care about would mean more time spent with her, he figured he could handle the physical closeness by focusing on the boys and not on her. He could do anything for his boys.

  By the time he walked through the library doors, he thought he had it all worked out. Until he heard her soft laughter. That sweet, tinkling sound stirred his memory and his emotions. He quickly tamped both down. What did she have to laugh about after the news she’d given him last night? he wondered, steeling himself against both his memories and his emotions.

  Malcolm looked up and waved him over. “Glad you could join us,” he said.

  “Morning, Monique,” he said smoothly.

  She smiled, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “Good morning,” she said.

  Malcolm clapped his hands together, oblivious to the undercurrents between Monique and Dillon. “Let’s get started, then. Monique, you have the floor.”

  Monique stood up on wobbly legs. She could still feel Dillon’s pain and his disgust. He hated her. He really hated her.

  “Since we are getting started so late in the summer,” she began, letting her skill at her job take over, “the curriculum analysis of the science department won’t be complete until the end of the first six-week term.”

  For the next half hour she was a total professional as she told Dillon and Malcolm her plans. Malcolm asked appropriate questions to which she gave expert answers. This was her game and she was on. Dillon, on the other hand, was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Good work, Monique,” Malcolm said, again all smiles. “I think you have some innovative ideas that should help us tremendously.” He turned to Dillon. “What do you think?”

  Dillon didn’t know what to think. He was sure her presentation had gone well, but he hadn’t heard much of it. He hadn’t been able to make his brain focus on Monique’s presentation. As he sat looking at her in her pale pink suit, he couldn’t get the picture of her, belly swollen with child—his child—out of his mind. And he couldn’t get out of his mind the picture of the son they’d conceived together, either. The longer she’d talked, the more vivid the visions had become. And the more angry and hurt he’d become. The anger he accepted; the hurt he despised because it showed his weakness. His weakness for the first woman he’d loved. And Malcolm wanted to know what he thought of her presentation? “Good job,” he finally said because it seemed most appropriate and least revealing. “I’m sure Monique can deliver everything she’s promised.”

  “And we’ll give her all the help she needs,” Malcolm said. “I’ve been after the board of education to bring in a curriculum specialist for the last five years. We’ve got to make the best of this opportunity.”

  “What I’m going to need first,” Monique interjected, “is some time with the staff.”

  Malcolm smiled again. “I’m way ahead of you there. Since the teachers will be in school the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday before Labor Day, I’ve scheduled sessions for you to meet with each department individually. Will two hours per department be sufficient?”

  Monique nodded. “That’ll be perfect.”

  Malcolm looked at Dillon. “I was thinking that you could sit in on the sessions with her, Dillon. To act as an intermediary of sorts and to show the staff that we’re behind the work Monique is doing. Everyone needs to know she has our full support.”

  While Monique thought a school liaison was a good idea and would have suggested that one. be named, she would never have chosen Dillon for the job. By the look on his face, she guessed he wasn’t any happier with his new assignment than she was.

  “Fine by me,” Dillon said without a glance in her direction.

  “Good,” Malcolm said. He looked at his watch and got up. “I’m expecting a phone call. Why don’t you two discuss the teacher sessions? When you’re done, Monique, stop by my office and I’ll take you to lunch as promised.” He turned to Dillon. “You’re welcome to join us, Dillon.” Then Malcolm left without waiting for a response.

  A thick silence fell over the room after Malcolm’s departure. Dillon’s eyes met Monique’s and held her bound by the strength of his hatred. “I want to see him,” he said.

  She nodded. “Of course.” There was so much to be said, but her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and she couldn’t speak more than a couple of words.

  “Does he know about me?” he asked, his eyes still brooding.

  She nodded again. “Charles told him before he died.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “So how long has he known?”

  “Charles died three years ago. He told Glenn when he entered first grade.”

  “Did he understand?”

  She stood up and went to the windows, looking out on the beautiful summer day. She rubbed her arms to ward off a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. “He was six years old, Dillon, and the father he loved was dying. He did his best.”

  “I’m his father.” His words were harsh, but when she looked back at him his eyes were sad.

  “I’m so sorry, Dillon. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “So you said.” He refused to give her any quarter, though her sadness tempted him to do so. Deep inside, he knew that giving her a quarter would open him up to being hurt by her again and he wasn’t about to do something that stupid. “Tell me again how you decided to give my son to another man because you loved me. I didn’t quite get it the first time.”

  She dropped her arms in frustration. She wanted to scream, not at Dillon, but at the injustice in the world that had forced a teenage girl to have to make such a decision. And at the injustice that had separated her son from not one father, but two. And at the injustice that put the pain in Dillon’s eyes today. “Do you really want to hear my explanation again, Dillon, or do you want an excuse to be angry with me and maybe even hurt me the way I hurt you?”

  His gaze didn’t waver, but he didn’t speak for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “Where is he?”

  She sighed, then retook her seat at the table across from him. “He’s at my sister-in-law’s house in Charleston. I wanted to talk to you before I brought him here.”

  He fixed her with a hard stare. “What did you think I was going to do, Monique? Deny that he’s my son? You really don’t know me, do you?”

  She shook her head again. “I was concerned about Glenn. I don’t want him to be hurt any more than he’s already been hurt. He’s just a little boy, Dillon. I knew that you’d come around, but I didn’t want Glenn exposed to the initial anger I knew you were going to feel, the anger that you’re showing now.”

  Dillon jumped out of his chair. “What do you expect from me?” He thumped his chest. “I’m a man. A person with feelings. How do you think I feel knowing that the woman I loved more than life itself thought so little of my love that she chose to leave town pregnant with my child and marry another man rather than come to me? How the hell do you think it makes me feel knowing that I have another son out there? A son who may feel neglected and rejected just
because you decided you knew what was best. You’re damn right I’m angry. I’m angry with you for not being the girl—the woman—I thought you were, and I’m damned angry with myself for caring so much about you. Now when do we go see my son?”

  She fought back the tears his words summoned. “We can go this weekend. I’ll call my sister-in-law and tell her to expect us.”

  Dillon nodded. “Good.” He picked up his pad from the table, and she knew he was going to leave.

  “Dillon,” she called.

  He looked at her.

  “Have you told your family?”

  He cursed under his breath and ran his hand across his head. “No, and I don’t look forward to doing so, either, but I’ll tell them before we leave. And I’ll have to tell Calvin, too.”

  She wanted to tell him again how sorry she was. She knew her news was turning his life upside down, but there was nothing she could do to stop the events her disclosure had set in motion. “How do you think Calvin will take the news? If you think it’ll help, I’ll go with you to tell him.”

  He gave her a derisive look. “What makes you think I’d want or need your help?”

  Her head jerked back as if he’d slapped her. “I’m only trying to help, Dillon. This situation is not easy for me, either. And I know you have to be concerned about your son’s reaction to the news.”

  Dillon dropped his pad back on the table and sat back down. He wiped his hands down his face. “This is a hell of a mess.”

  She sat down, too. “I’m sorry” was again on the tip of her tongue.

  “Calvin has had so much loss in his life,” Dillon began. “Too much for a boy his age. I thought he was about to turn a corner. But I really don’t know how he’s going to take the news that he has a brother.”

  “Maybe it’ll be a good thing for both of them, Dillon. I know that Glenn needs you, needs his family. Maybe Calvin needs his brother. If we’re lucky, both our boys will be better off knowing each other.”

  He heard the hope in her voice and the concern. “How is Glenn—emotionally, I mean?”

  “He’s hurting, Dillon, and he doesn’t know yet how to handle that hurt, so he acts up.”

  “How bad is he?”

  “He’s a good boy—don’t get me wrong—but sometimes he just explodes. He’s gotten into fights at school and he and I have had shouting matches.” She looked away. Sometimes she felt that if she were a better mother, things with Glenn wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.

  “Maybe that’s good for him, Monique. It has to be better than the way Calvin holds things in. Sometimes I wish he would act out.”

  She nodded, one parent understanding another. “It’s hard watching them hurt when you love them so much.”

  He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. In the silence that followed, he felt closer to her than he’d felt since she’d been back. The one thing they had in common was love for their sons.

  Chapter Five

  Later that afternoon, Monique signed a rental agreement for the large colonial near the school and the park. If things went well and she and Glenn decided to stay in Elberton longer, they could consider a more permanent arrangement.

  Next, she drove to her apartment and called the moving company. Her furnishings and household goods—which had been in storage since their house sold a few months earlier—were scheduled to be delivered to Elberton in five days.

  Needing to eat, but not wanting to order in as she usually did, Monique went to the Dinner Plate, the only restaurant in town that was open after dark.

  A teenage waitress in a brown plaid shift with The Dinner Plate printed on the chest pocket greeted her with a smile and a large plastic menu. “Just one?” the perky teen asked. Monique nodded, and the girl scanned the almost-full room. After she spotted an empty table, she beckoned Monique to follow her.

  Monique nodded to a few people whom she recognized, but she didn’t stop to talk. She hadn’t had that kind of friendship with the people of Elberton. Dillon had been her only friend. Just thinking about that made her remember the loneliness she’d felt before meeting him.

  “This all right?” the girl asked, pointing to a booth just to the right of the salad bar.

  “Perfect,” Monique said, placing her shoulder bag on the plastic seat and sitting down next to it. The girl took her beverage order, told her to help herself to the salad bar, then sprinted away.

  Monique let her eyes roam the salad bar. She wasn’t really that hungry. She just hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight. There were too many thoughts going around in her head and she needed to take a break from them. She knew she couldn’t accomplish that by staying home alone. So here she was. She closed her eyes for a brief moment of rest before getting up to get herself some food.

  “It’s her.” Monique heard the, child’s loud whisper. She opened her eyes and saw Dillon and Calvin on the other side of the salad bar.

  “I told you it was her,” Calvin said with a brief look up at his father.

  Monique got up from her seat and joined them at the salad bar. “Hi, Calvin,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

  “We come here a lot. Daddy doesn’t like to cook much.”

  She glanced up at Dillon. There was no hint of a smile or of welcome in the look he gave her. She looked back down at Calvin. “I bet your dad is a really good cook.”

  Calvin turned up his nose. “Sometimes. Grandma is a good cook. Do you cook?”

  Monique picked up one of the cold white dinner plates from the salad bar and fell into place behind Dillon, who was filling plates for himself and Calvin. “Sure I do. I like to cook.”

  “Do you have a little boy like me?” he asked innocently. “Is that why you cook?”

  She looked up at Dillon, wondering if he’d told Calvin about Glenn. He shook his head slightly in answer to her unspoken question. “I have a little boy.” Just like you.

  Calvin’s eyes widened. “What’s his name?”

  She glanced up at Dillon again. His face still held no emotion. “Glenn. His name is Glenn and he’s in the fourth grade.”

  “Where is he?”

  Kids and questions, Monique thought. Leave it to them to quickly get to the heart of any matter. “He’s with his aunt.”

  “Is he coming here?”

  Monique nodded. “I’ll go get him in a couple of weeks. Right before school starts.”

  “He’s going to school here? At my school?”

  “That’s enough questions, sport,” Dillon said in a patient voice. “Monique wants to eat her dinner before it gets cold.”

  “Sorry,” Calvin said, looking at Monique.

  Monique couldn’t resist touching a hand to the boy’s smooth cheek. “That’s all right, Calvin. You can ask me anything you want. But I’d better let you go eat your dinner now.”

  “Aw, okay,” the boy mumbled.

  Monique smiled up at Dillon. “See you later,” she said, determined not to let Dillon’s distance put a damper on her mood. She could have stayed home and moped. She turned away from the two males and went back to her booth.

  A few seconds later, she looked up to see Calvin and Dillon standing before her. “We want to eat with you,” Calvin said quickly. “Can we? Daddy said we could eat with you if you said it was okay.”

  Calvin was incorrigible, so like Glenn had been at his age. She smiled. “Of course I don’t mind. I’d love for you to eat with me.”

  Calvin scrambled onto the seat across from her. Dillon placed their plates on the table then slid in next to his son. “I hope we aren’t interrupting,” he said. “But I figure we’re going to have to get used to this.”

  Monique knew he was right, but she also knew he was uncomfortable sitting across from her. Maybe even as uncomfortable as she was sitting across from him.

  “Do you have a husband?” came Calvin’s question.

  “Calvin,” Dillon chastised. “What did I tell you about all the questions? Eat your dinner and stop
asking so many questions.”

  The boy turned sad eyes up to his father. “I was just askin’.”

  “Well, stop asking and eat.”

  Calvin frowned, but he did as his father ordered. He picked up a French fry and pushed it into his mouth.

  Monique met Dillon’s gaze. “It’s all right, Dillon. It really is. I don’t mind answering his questions. Like you said, we may as well start getting used to it.” She turned her attention to Calvin. “I was married, but my husband died.”

  “Was he sick?” Calvin asked, perking up quickly.

  Monique nodded. “He was very sick.”

  “Did you and Glenn cry? Were you sad?”

  Monique queried Dillon with a glance. After he nodded, she said, “Yes, we were very sad. We loved him, but we knew he had to go to a better place.”

  Calvin nodded as if he understood fully what Monique meant. He glanced over at his father. “Mama went to a better place, too. Didn’t she, Daddy?”

  Dillon cleared his throat. “Your mama’s not dead, Calvin, you know that.”

  “But she went away and I was sad. Were you sad, too, Daddy?”

  Anger better described what Dillon had felt when Teena left. Maybe he’d felt sadness, too, but not because she’d gone. No, any sadness he’d felt had been because her actions had shown how little regard she had for her son. “Yes, son, I was sad.”

  “But you didn’t cry.” Calvin made it sound like an accusation.

  Dillon glanced at Monique before answering his son. “No,” he said, “When your mother went away, I didn’t cry.”

  Monique thought about the dinner conversation long after she’d said good-night to Dillon and Calvin. So Dillon’s wife had left him and her son. Monique couldn’t imagine what would drive a woman to leave her child. She laughed a sad laugh. As a child who’d been left behind herself, she knew exactly how Calvin felt. And she hated the woman who’d been so careless as to inflict that kind of pain on a child.

  Monique determined then and there to do everything in her power to ease the pain she knew Calvin felt. While she knew she could never take his mother’s place, she vowed to do what she could. He was such a wonderful little boy. Why couldn’t his mother see that? Maybe, she thought to herself, Calvin and Dillon need me and Glenn as much as we need them.