Second Chance Romance

“Melanie’s going to be fine.” He reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. “I don’t want you to worry.”

They prayed quietly until Dr. Roberts, clipboard in hand, joined them. He took a seat and smiled. “Hello, Phoebe. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too. How’s Melanie?”

“She’s as strong as they come. She regained consciousness shortly after Jackson brought her in. Her memory appears fine, so that’s a blessing. The X-rays are all clear, no broken bones. But the MRI showed she does have a slight concussion, so we’ll keep her overnight, but she’ll be ready to go home with you in the morning.”

Phoebe clapped her hands together. “Thank God! The poor girl has been through enough.” She released a heavy breath. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”

Jackson considered Phoebe’s statement. Melanie must have endured some type of hardship, but now was not the time to ask questions. He squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Let’s stay focused on the positive.”

Dr. Roberts left, and they stood under the flickering fluorescent lights in silence. Phoebe stepped forward. “One day you’re going to make another woman very happy, Mr. Daughtry. Now let’s go check on my niece. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet.”

Jackson nodded. As they walked down the hall toward Melanie’s room, his breath quickened. At the doorway, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Why was he so nervous? He felt like a teenage boy getting ready for his first date.

* * *

Melanie opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again to escape the searing pain. The fluorescent lights burned her vision. Who in the world invented fluorescent lighting, anyway? It was the worst.

Images flashed through her mind of a whitetail deer tearing across the road, her car headed toward a tree, and then everything went black.

She opened her eyes again to see a woman’s face peering through a curtain.

Hospital. She should have known. Hospitals always had annoying fluorescent lights.

“How’s our patient feeling?” asked a petite blonde woman carrying a frosted pitcher and a plastic cup. She approached the bedside and smiled.

Stiff.

Exactly how Melanie had felt after she completed her fifth marathon, one month before her life had changed forever. She squirmed in an attempt to sit up, but a pain shot down her neck, like needles jabbing into her skin. She nestled back under the sheet.

“I’m Sara, your nurse.” She filled the cup with water and pulled a red straw from her pocket. “Try to drink a little. You need to stay hydrated.”

Melanie took the cup and placed the straw to her parched lips. “Is my aunt Phoebe here?” She sipped the cool liquid and flinched when it touched the back of her throat. “I remember a deer running in front of my car. Is that why I’m here?” She pressed her palm to her forehead. Her head throbbed as though someone bashed a rubber hammer against it.

“Here, take this. It will help with the pain, but it will make you sleepy.”

Melanie reached for the tiny clear cup that held the medicine as the nurse walked toward the window and tilted the blinds. “I’ve always preferred natural light.” She flipped a switch, and the fluorescent beacon vanished.

The pressure in Melanie’s head and around her eyes eased. “Thank you so much. I love the natural light, too.” She took another sip of the water, ran her fingers down the side of the cup and glanced out the window. “It stopped raining.” She wiped her fingers, wet from the moisture, onto her gown. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Sara placed her fist under her chin. Her fingernails were painted bloodred. “From what I understand, Jackson—”

“Jackson? Who’s Jackson?”

Sara flashed a mischievous smile. “Why, he’s the most handsome paramedic in all of Sweet Gum Valley, honey. Every woman within a hundred-mile radius would love to lasso the charming Mr. Daughtry, myself included.” She smoothed the back of her hair and placed her right hand across her narrow hip. “He’s the person who rescued you.”

Details were a blur, with the exception of the blinding rain, the deer and a tree. “Rescued me?” There were many events over the last year that she’d love to forget, but this wasn’t one of them. “Please, tell me what happened.”

“You were in a car accident on Smith Farm Road. Jackson was in the car behind you. He saw the deer dart across the road. You swerved to miss it and hit a tree.” Sara reached down and brushed a strand of hair away from Melanie’s face. “By the look of those cuts on your cheek and forehead, God was watching over you.”

Melanie put her hand to her forehead. He’s forgotten about me.

The white walls of the tiny room closed in around her. Why had she left DC? She wanted to go home and back to the job that occupied her mind for more than seventy hours a week—sometimes more. Work erased the pain of the past year.

When Aunt Phoebe had called last week and begged her to come for a visit, Melanie had finally given in. Phoebe was Melanie’s only living relative. She hoped to convince Phoebe to move to DC and live with her. Aunt Phoebe was her father’s younger sister. Somewhere in her attic, probably stuck in a box and gathering dust, Melanie had a photo of them together as children. She released a heavy breath. “I want to see my aunt Phoebe. Is she here?”

“Yes, Phoebe’s here. She’s down the hall, talking with Jackson.”

Sara headed toward the door and turned. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Push the button if you need anything, sweetie.”

Melanie rested her head against the mountain of pillows, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. She wished she could disappear through a crack in the drywall and go back to her home in DC.

Moments later she heard footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside the door, and there was a gentle knock. “Can we come in?”

Melanie gave the sheet a slight tug to cover her flimsy blue hospital gown. “Yes.” The sight of Aunt Phoebe’s smiling face in the doorway brought tears to Melanie’s eyes. The last time they’d seen each other had been the funeral. Had it really been a year? Some days it felt like an eternity.

“Oh dear, thank God you’re okay.” Aunt Phoebe glided across the floor to her bedside and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what would have happened if Jackson hadn’t been there. Your car was towed to Wilbourn’s Autobody, so no need to fret about that. It will be repaired in a couple of days.”

Her aunt turned toward the door, and Melanie’s eyes followed. Her breath caught in her throat. A gorgeous, tall man with dark, wavy hair and a muscular frame stood in the doorway.

Their eyes connected for an instant, and her heart fluttered when his cheeks flushed. “I suppose you’re the infamous Jackson.” When he smiled, she looked away, but not before she took notice of his hypnotic deep blue eyes. He was perfection—which was reason enough to avoid him.

“Come in, Jackson.” Aunt Phoebe beamed and extended her hand toward him. “I’d like to introduce you to my lovely niece.” She moved aside, and he sauntered toward Melanie’s bed with his thumbs through his belt loops. “Jackson Daughtry, this is my niece, Melanie Harper.”

Jackson jerked his thumbs loose and touched his hand to hers. She expected roughness. The silky smooth feel of his skin caught her off guard. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me to the hospital.” She looked up and curved her lips into a small smile. “I don’t remember exactly what happened, but Sara told me I was unconscious, and you pulled me from my car.” His touch was gentle. She shifted in the bed and pulled away her hand.

“It’s my job.” He smiled. “Anyone traveling behind you would have stopped and done the same.”

Aunt Phoebe laughed. “Now, Jackson, don’t be so modest. Jackson’s a paramedic, but he had the day off today. I think I know him well enough to say he never really goes off duty. Even as a child, he rescued anything he could.” She placed her index finger to her chin. “Do you remember Miss Pearson’s cat? Marcie... I think it was her name.”

Jackson smiled. “Yes, it was.”

“Well, she got stuck, and Jackson climbed all the way up a huge oak tree to save her.”

A hint of redness covered Jackson’s cheeks at her aunt’s praise.

“A cat, really? That’s commendable of you.” Melanie nodded.

A slight smile pulled on one side of his mouth. “It was when I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

“Save cats?” Melanie blurted.

Judging by the raised eyebrow Aunt Phoebe threw in her direction, she obviously didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

Jackson pushed his shoulders back. “Well, mostly people, but animals, too, if they need rescuing.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “I’ll never forget the feeling when I placed Marcie back into Miss Pearson’s wrinkled hands. She lived alone for thirty years after her husband died. Marcie was all she had.”

“Jackson has always had a good heart.” Aunt Phoebe grinned and patted his arm.

Barricaded.

That was what Melanie’s heart was now. She would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself from further anguish.

Aunt Phoebe took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You look tired, dear. Maybe we should leave so you can get some rest.”

Melanie squirmed, struggling to sit up. “First I need to talk to you about the reason I came to Sweet Gum.” She wouldn’t let the fact that she’d had an accident and was now in the hospital stop her from telling Aunt Phoebe the truth of her mission.

“You came to get some much-needed rest, child.” Aunt Phoebe slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves of her raincoat.

“Yes, it’s true, but the main reason is to bring you back to DC to live with me.” She blew out a breath. There, she’d said it.

“What?” Jackson shouted and looked around the room. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

Aunt Phoebe rubbed the top of Melanie’s head. “Dear, you’re talking crazy. I would never leave Sweet Gum.”

Melanie noticed Jackson listening intently. He even shook his head a couple of times.

“Now, you get some rest. Dr. Roberts said you can go home in the morning.” Aunt Phoebe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll prepare a big dinner, just like it’s Sunday.”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me. Besides, I’m not a big eater.”

“Nonsense. You need more meat on your bones.” She squeezed Melanie’s arm. “I don’t know how you keep warm. I’ll make you some crispy fried chicken. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” She turned to him. “You save your appetite, too. I’ll prepare a meal for the hero...and bring your sweet little girl since school’s out again tomorrow for that teacher workday.”

Jackson nodded. “Sounds great. Rebecca loves your fried chicken.” He looked in Melanie’s direction. “Rebecca’s my five-year-old daughter.”

Aunt Phoebe waved goodbye, and Jackson followed her. The door closed, and they were gone.

The IV drip hummed. Melanie covered her face with a pillow. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t come here to mingle with the locals. She just wanted to bring her aunt home. Jackson and his daughter weren’t family. Why did her aunt act as though they were related? Melanie took a sip of her water and rolled onto her side.

She wasn’t ready to be around children, not yet. Maybe never. She’d tried keeping a journal, like the doctor had suggested, but the pain felt even more real when she’d put her thoughts down on paper. What did her doctor know, anyway? He hadn’t lost his children—she’d seen the photo of him and his wife with three smiling boys on the corner of his mahogany desk. She yanked the sheet over her head, wishing she could stay hidden forever, but whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she’d be having dinner with Jackson and his daughter.

* * *

As Jackson headed to the Whitesides’ house, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca. While he drove along their half-mile gravel driveway, his thoughts drifted to Melanie. How dare she suggest moving Phoebe to DC? She’d never even visited and knew nothing about her aunt’s life and how happy she was living in the valley. It was obvious Melanie was a woman with a heavy heart, but that didn’t give her a right to uproot Phoebe.

He pulled in front of the Whitesides’ house and honked the horn. Within seconds, Rebecca flew out the door. He smiled and watched the love of his life, his vivacious daughter, sprint toward his truck. She ran as though she was trying to reach the finish line and he was the prize. For a second, his joy turned to sadness as he wondered how many more years she would think of him as her hero. He pushed the thought away and jumped from the truck with open arms.

“Daddy, can I have a puppy? Please, can I?” Rebecca pleaded and took a giant leap into his arms.

“What? Who wants to sell my baby a puppy?” Jackson decided he’d play around a little with his daughter. He placed her back on the ground.

Rebecca frowned. “I’m not a baby.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be six in a few months.”

“So tell me, what kind of dog is this?” The buzz around town was that Larry Whiteside was breeding a litter of Labrador retrievers.

With eyes wide and as blue as the ocean, Rebecca began to captivate him—as she always did. He’d have been the first to admit he was a softy when it came to his daughter and the things she asked for. “Mr. Whiteside said Sally is going to have her pups soon, and she’s big and yellow. He told me I had to ask you first,” Rebecca answered.

Jackson scratched his chin. “Let me think about it for a bit. Hmm...well, since our closest neighbors are ten miles down the road and they’re seventy-five years old, you just might need a little friend.”

Rebecca jumped up and down and then proceeded to twirl. She loved to twirl. “Yes! I’ll take care of her. I promise. I’ve already picked out a name. I want to call her Samantha.”

Jackson’s heart melted. He could never say no to his little girl. “We have a couple of days before the pups are born, and they will have to stay with their mama for a while.” He cupped her chin. “I do have one question for you, sweetie. What happens if all of Sally’s puppies are boys? What will you name him?”

“Daddy, come on. I’d call him Sam—duh.”

He laughed and gave her a big bear hug. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Larry and Wilma Whiteside, along with their daughter Mary, Rebecca’s best friend, stood on their porch as he and his daughter walked to the front door to thank them for having Rebecca over. “Anytime Mary wants to come over for the night, she’s always welcome.” Jackson smiled as he reached to shake Larry’s hand.

As they walked back to the truck, Rebecca looked up. “Can she come tonight since tomorrow’s Friday and we don’t have school?” He lifted Rebecca in and buckled her seat belt.

“I think you two had enough time together for now. Besides, we have plans tomorrow.”

She bounced up and down in her seat. “What are we doing?”

He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. “Miss Phoebe has invited us over for an early dinner. Her niece is visiting.”

“Is she the lady you rescued?” Rebecca asked and kicked her feet against the back of his seat.

“Where did you hear I rescued someone?”

“I heard Mrs. Whiteside telling Mr. Whiteside you saved a lady today.”

“Yes, she was Miss Phoebe’s niece. She’s from Washington, DC.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know where DC is, don’t you?”

“Ah...duh, of course—it’s our nation’s capital.” She flashed a lopsided grin in the reflection. Jackson stifled his laugh. He wasn’t keen on her using “duh,” but sometimes it was too darn cute.

“Is she pretty?” The kicking subsided. “What’s her name?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Her name is Miss Melanie.” Her face flashed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” He swallowed hard. Too pretty. What had he been thinking when he agreed to dinner?

Chapter Two

“Jackson and Rebecca won’t be here for a couple of hours,” Aunt Phoebe announced from her kitchen. “Why don’t you go lie down and take a little nap?”

Melanie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The searing pain persisted in her neck. She’d been anxious to leave the hospital this morning, but now she wondered if she should have stayed. With the tips of her fingers, she touched the stitches on her cheek. No point trying to cover them with makeup. She stared out the living-room window in dreaded anticipation of the dinner guests, especially Jackson’s daughter.

Aunt Phoebe’s house, a charming country cottage, reminded Melanie of the gingerbread houses she’d made with her mother as a child. Although small in comparison to her three-level town house in the heart of Capitol Hill, Aunt Phoebe’s cottage sat on fifteen acres of immaculate tree-lined property, obviously maintained by a professional landscaper. Melanie had to admit it was stunning. The backyard exploded with shades of yellow and red. A quaint white gazebo sat near a small pond. Potted mums perfectly arranged along the interior of the structure provided an added pop of dazzling autumn colors.

Once upon a time, this had been her favorite time of the year, but no more. Her world was the same no matter the season. Dark.

Melanie peeled herself from the comfort of the La-Z-Boy chair. Now was a good time to discuss the move. Before Jackson showed up. She’d sensed his displeasure at the suggestion when she’d brought it up yesterday. She pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The combination of the bright October sun and the yellow-painted walls made her feel like she needed her sunglasses. “Aunt Phoebe, don’t you think it might be time for you to slow down? Have someone look after you for a change? You’re sixty-five years old. You can’t expect to continue to take care of this house and run The Bean.” As far as Melanie knew, she worked there every weekday and Saturday. And Melanie suspected the only reason she didn’t work on Sunday was because they were closed. Aunt Phoebe was a firm believer in going to church on Sunday and spending the rest of the day in fellowship with family and neighbors.

“Slow down?” Phoebe speared a piece of chicken with a fork and placed it on a floured baking sheet. “I’m hitting my stride.” She pushed out her chest. “In fact, I just signed up for the hospital’s 5K.”

Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t run. You’ll injure yourself.”

“Maybe I can’t run, but I can certainly walk. It’s for children’s cancer research, and if I have to, I’ll crawl across the finish line.” She sprinkled some pepper onto the chicken and rolled it in the flour. She turned her head when the pepper triggered a sneeze. “Excuse me.”

Nothing slowed the woman down. But in spite of how she felt now, if something happened to her, Melanie would find herself alone in the world. Her stomach turned at the thought. “So, what do you think about moving to DC with me?” She stared down at the chicken.

Aunt Phoebe shook her head. “Honestly, when you mentioned this crazy idea at the hospital, I thought you were joking. Why would I want to move? My life is here.”

The oven beeped. It was fully preheated and ready for the oversize biscuits.

Melanie expelled a weary sigh. “You’re the only family I have. I want to take care of you.”

Aunt Phoebe snatched the checkered dish towel off of the counter and dried her hands. “You don’t think I’m capable of looking out for myself?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just think your home and The Coffee Bean are a lot of upkeep for anyone.”

“You mean for an old coot like me?” She tightened the strings on her apron. “This is nonsense. The valley is where I plan to spend my last days on this earth, however long the good Lord determines I have.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Let’s end this subject. We’ve got company coming.”

“Don’t you get scared living out here alone?”

“Scared? Why would I be scared?” She pulled on her yellow gloves and, with an oversize sponge, scrubbed the cast-iron skillet with the tenacity of a twenty-year-old. “Besides, God is always watching over me. I trust Him to take care of me.”

Melanie dropped her arms to her sides. Her aunt was stubborn.

“What about you?” Aunt Phoebe set the skillet in the sink, took off the gloves and reached for Melanie’s hand. She guided her to the kitchen table, and they each took a seat across from one another. “Not a day goes by I don’t think about you living alone in that big ol’ town house. The loss you’ve suffered is more than anyone should ever endure in a lifetime.” Aunt Phoebe reached over the bowl of Golden Delicious apples to wipe the tear that escaped Melanie’s eye. Her touch was warm. “God has a plan for you. He’ll carry you through this, but you must have faith. And in the end, you’ll find peace.”

Melanie yanked her hand from Aunt Phoebe’s grasp. She stood and paced the kitchen floor. “Why would God steal my family? They were my world, Aunt Phoebe.” She turned toward the kitchen window. A chipmunk hopped along the split-rail fence. “Where was He when my children were trapped inside a burning car, while their father did everything in his power to save them but died trying?”

“Oh child, God will bring you through this difficulty if you’ll open your heart to Him.”

Melanie shook her head. “I’m not sure I can believe in Him again. I did once. I really did...but not anymore.” She turned from the window and walked toward the table. Her throat parched, she reached for her glass of water and took three large gulps before placing it back on the table. “I didn’t come here to upset you—please believe me. It’s just—” she picked up the glass and drained it “—I can’t seem to get my life back on track. I don’t know how to live without my family.” Chill bumps peppered her skin as her aunt took her hand.

“Put your trust in God, and in time, peace will flourish.”

Melanie gave Aunt Phoebe’s hand a quick squeeze. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down for a little while—” her footsteps tapped across the hardwood floors before she turned back around and faced her aunt “—unless you need my help.”

“No, of course not. I’ve got everything under control.” She walked toward the sink.

Inside the guest room, Melanie gazed up at the cedar ceiling. Her hand gripped the cold doorknob as she slowly pushed the door shut.

Peace. She hadn’t felt it since the last time she kissed her girls and husband goodbye.

A cold chill ran through her blood when, across the room, she spied the gift she’d mailed to Aunt Phoebe on her last birthday. Sluggishly she walked toward the dresser and picked up the present.

She studied the photo inside the frame, and her eyes erupted with tears. It was from the last trip they’d taken to the beach as a family. Her husband, Jeff, had asked a stranger passing by to take their picture. Tan and smiling, they had an amazing life. Her hands trembled as she placed the frame on the dresser. She wanted to crawl inside the photo and be with her family one more time. Her body quivered, and instead she crawled into the bed and sobbed.

After what felt like hours, but had probably just been one, Melanie entered the kitchen to the sound of chicken sizzling in the skillet. “I’m sorry, Aunt Phoebe. I should be helping you.”

Her aunt flung the dish towel over her shoulder and brushed her hand across her forehead, leaving behind a trail of flour. “You need your rest.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Besides, I’ve been cooking like this for over forty years. Making dinner for four is easy peasy.”

Melanie yanked a paper towel from the roll, turned on the faucet and swiped the towel under the water. “Here, let me at least do this.” She smiled. “You’ve got a little flour on your forehead,” she said, wiping away the powdery substance. She took in her aunt’s features. Despite a few wrinkles and hair as white as snow, her aunt still looked youthful.

“Thanks, dear. Oh, I think I hear a car.”

Melanie’s pulse rose. She listened to the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway. “I’ll go get the door,” she told her aunt. A chill traveled through her body as she walked toward the entrance. She wrapped her arms around herself. This wouldn’t be easy, but her aunt seemed happy, so she pasted a smile on her face and flung open the door. A flash of blond hair tore past Melanie.