One More Chance Read online

Juliana sat in Dr. Crow's office, six weeks after her dismissal from the hospital. She'd just had a CAT scan and was waiting to hear the doctor's evaluation.

  Carefully she glossed over details that might cast any but the most favorable light on her progress. Why she felt such a desire to excel she didn't know—just her basic competitive nature, she supposed. But whatever anyone else had ever done toward a speedy and complete recovery, she would do better and faster.

  The CAT scan had brought a satisfied expression to the doctor's face. Now he leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Juliana, you're a miracle," he said.

  Her determined good cheer faltered. "That's not the kind of talk I like to hear from my brain surgeon," she protested.

  The doctor laughed. "Sorry, but I can't take all the credit for this one," he admitted. "Sometimes you just gotta figure somebody up there really does like you." He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if seeking heavenly corroboration.

  "Oooookay." She swallowed hard. "I guess that leaves me with just one question."

  "And that is?"

  She spoke through tight lips. "What are the chances this will happen to me again?"

  "Slim and none," he responded promptly. "You're less likely to suffer a second aneurysm than I am the first. Or anyone else who's never had one."

  She had been holding her breath; she let it out slowly. "I wouldn't want to go through that again."

  "That's not something you need to worry about."

  She stood up, light-headed with relief. "Sounds like you're telling me to quit worrying and get on with my life."

  The doctor walked around the desk and gave her a quick hug. "That's about it. And to answer the question you're not asking, yes—it's perfectly okay for you to go ahead and marry the guy."

  5

  "But he told the doctor we're engaged!" Juliana twisted on the car seat to appeal to Stella. "Why on earth would Ben tell such a lie?"

  Stella maneuvered her sedan out of the hospital parking lot. "Desperation, mainly."

  "Huh?" Juliana frowned. The doctor's unknowing revelation had completely thrown her. She wavered between outrage and a kind of horrified delight. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Stella moved into the flow of traffic before answering. "He thought they wouldn't let him in to see you. He thought—and rightly so—that they wouldn't give him reports on your condition or let him participate in discussions about your prognosis."

  "Oh." Juliana slumped back against the seat cushion. After a while she said, "Well, why did he want to? I'm nothing to him."

  "You're a human being. That's enough for some people."

  Was that all? The possibility didn't please her, although she hadn't consciously assigned any other motive to him. Engaged to Ben. The concept sent a prickle of guilty excitement up her spine.

  They drove for a while in silence and then Stella asked, "Did he say when you can come back to work?"

  "Who?"

  "The doctor, of course."

  "Oh. Him." Juliana absently ran the fingers of one hand up the nape of her neck, beneath the scarf. Her hair was long enough that it no longer felt like a short-bristled scrub brush to her.

  But return to work? It's too soon! I've only been out of the hospital for six weeks. I'm not ready to go back to work. There, she admitted to herself. She wasn't ready and had no idea when she would be.

  If ever.

  So she hedged. "I… I'm not sure."

  "The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be." Stella turned the car onto Juliana's street.

  "I suppose." Juliana hesitated. "Did I tell you the doctor called me a miracle?"

  Stella laughed. "Just what you want to hear from your brain surgeon."

  "That's what I said. But it kind of got to me."

  "What's wrong with being a miracle? Sounds plenty high-toned to me." Stella braked in Juliana's driveway.

  "It carries a heavy obligation, that's what's wrong with it. Why did I live when so many others die? What did I ever do to deserve heavenly intervention?"

  Stella switched off the ignition and sat quietly for a moment. "Maybe it's not what you've done," she suggested gently. "Maybe it's what you're going to do."

  "Just what I need—more pressure." Juliana strove for a light tone. "Stella, do you believe there's a reason for everything?"

  "I want to believe it. It's the only thing that makes any sense." Stella smiled suddenly. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you've been saved for some great cosmic purpose, Juliana. I mean, I don't think you have to rush off like Johnny Appleseed and spread seeds of goodness."

  Juliana burst out laughing. "That's a relief, anyway."

  Stella patted Juliana's hand. "Honey, I don't know if you had a great doctor or divine intervention or a little of both. But I do know you've got one more chance to smell the roses. And if you don't, you're a darned fool."

  The blast of the telephone greeted Juliana as she unlocked the front door. She walked into the kitchen as the answering machine kicked in.

  "Juliana, it's Barbara. I have some business to discuss with you. I'll take a chance and drop by about four. Hope that's okay. Ta-ta—oh, I almost forgot! Hope you're feeling better. Bye."

  Juliana's shoulders slumped. Just what Juliana needed. She sagged onto a stool at the breakfast bar. She should feel elated after receiving a clean bill of health, but the prospect of seeing Barbara was depressing.

  Worst of all, the old, familiar craving for nicotine rose in her throat. She wanted—no, needed—a cigarette. She hadn't smoked since the day she got… since the day it… since—

  "The hell with it." Digging in her purse, she pulled out her car keys. If Ben was determined to keep her from smoking, he could jolly well lend moral support when she needed it.

  She hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks and she hated to think about how much she missed him. He and Paige were in touch. They'd had lunch together just last Saturday but hadn't invited Juliana to join them. She'd been miffed about that.

  Yet here she was, pulling to a stop beneath the shade trees next to his pickup truck. For a moment she sat there, clasping the steering wheel, wondering if she really wanted to do this.

  I'm only visiting a friend. Why am I making a big deal out of it? she asked herself. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

  He was nowhere to be seen. Nervously she patted at the chiffon scarf wrapped and tied around her head, then adjusted the oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. She never went out these days without her "disguise."

  She knocked at the kitchen door and called his name. No answer. Frowning, she turned to stare out over the surrounding countryside. All around her the scent of citrus blossoms rose from the canyon floor, a heady perfume she'd never taken time to notice before. Stop and smell the roses…

  The avocado grove fell away in terraced rows, trees marching along at neatly spaced intervals. Two-thousand-two-hundred avocado trees stood between Cary Goddard and a multi-million-dollar project.

  She used to think of this land in terms of the fat commission she'd earn with its sale. Now she simply stood there and wondered why she'd never noticed how beautiful it was. It soothed her soul just to listen to the quiet.

  Without thought or plan, she made her way around the right wing of the house. On the far side of the structure, a covered deck supported by concrete posts extended out over the canyon's edge. Juliana climbed up the pebbled steps and walked out onto the fenced wooden platform.

  A dilapidated old redwood picnic table stood in the middle of the deck, a matching wooden bench on one side and two old metal lawn chairs on the other. Several redwood planters containing the limp remains of once flourishing plant life rested beside the sliding glass door.

  The place wasn't exactly in ruins but Mrs. Ware hadn't had an easy time, keeping it up. She'd obviously grown short of both money and time, after her husband's death, and the shabbiness of the house and outbuildings showed it. And although Ben seemed determined to hang on, country life didn't appe
ar to come naturally to him.

  Her eyes lifted to the west. Through a notch in the rolling hills she could see the Pacific Ocean seven or eight miles distant, so beautiful in its frame of blue sky and green fields that it took her breath away.

  Footsteps brought her swinging about as Ben rounded the corner of the house. Unexpected pleasure flooded through her at the sight of him, so solid and familiar. She'd missed him. She couldn't deny that any longer.

  He reached the steps and tripped. She gasped and started forward, but he didn't fall, just swore under his breath and leaned over to pick something up.

  "Damn cat!" But he handled the black and orange kitten gently, scooting it off to one side. The kitten meowed and scampered between his feet again.

  "You have a kitten!"

  "Not really. I think it's got me."

  "It's adorable. What's its name?"

  "I call it Freeloader because that's what it is." He nudged the ball of fur aside and the kitten scampered back down the steps and out of sight.

  Ben joined her on the edge of the deck. "Nice view, isn't it." His deep voice sounded unusually mellow. He didn't appear in the least surprised to find her prowling around his house.

  "Beautiful."

  "Won't be quite so nice after the engineers get through with it."

  She felt her hackles rise; she knew he enjoyed baiting her. "You have something against engineers?"

  "Don't all right-thinking people?" He turned his head to look at her, his expression challenging. "You know what they say—engineers won't be happy until the world's flat and covered with concrete."

  She laughed in spite of herself. "There's probably a couple of engineers who'd argue that," she suggested mildly.

  "Yeah, but they don't work for Goddard Enterprises."

  She opened her mouth to retort, but caught herself in time. Old habits die hard, she realized. "I didn't come here to argue the merits of Goddard Enterprises."

  Triumphant, she looked at him fully and caught the flash of surprise on his sun-browned face. As his skin darkened from long hours in the grove, the same sun continued to bleach the silky blond hair, leaving random streaks shades lighter. She found the combination of dark skin, pale hair and blue, blue eyes electrifying.

  "So what did you come here to argue about, if not Goddard Enterprises?"

  It was said teasingly, so she took no offense. "I didn't come to argue at all."

  He arched his brows and waited.

  She looked away. "I came because… I came because I just saw the doctor and I'm feeling…"

  His glance sharpened. "Nothing's wrong, is it?"

  "No." She sighed. It went completely against her grain to let him see her need.

  He grunted. "I didn't think so. You look…"

  She glanced at him quickly, sensing a compliment.

  "… okay."

  "Oh."

  Ben thought she sounded disappointed. He, on the other hand, felt relief. He'd almost said "terrific," and had caught himself just in time.

  When he thought of how she'd looked during those first days and weeks in the hospital, how near death she'd come, her recovery seemed nothing short of a miracle. Before, he'd considered her attractive in a glossy and calculated way. Now he saw in her a new, softer, much more appealing beauty.

  The best things about her—intelligence, quick wit, a sense of humor—remained. But he thought her less attractive traits—cynicism, greed, selfishness—were, if not gone entirely, at least held in check.

  Minor problems such as too-short hair and an occasional memory lapse seemed a small price to pay for all that improvement. But then, he reminded himself, he wasn't the one doing the paying.

  "If you feel okay," he said abruptly, "then what's the matter?"

  "Nothing's exactly the matter. I feel sort of… pensive. I just didn't want to be alone."

  He nodded. He could understand that, although he wished he couldn't. He thrust his thumbs into the pockets of his denims and tried to sound tough. "Yeah, well…I've got a lot of work to do."

  "Sure. I understand." Her head drooped.

  She looked so dispirited that he felt the damnedest desire to put his arms around her. "Look," he said, disgusted with his inability to hang tough, "I didn't mean—"

  "It's okay," she said quickly. She turned toward the steps. "You were working and I interrupted you."

  "Don't go."

  She looked back quickly, a question in her eyes.

  Idiot. "I'm about to tackle the irrigation system, a risky business at best. Sometimes I make it better, sometimes I make it worse." He debated with himself and lost. "If you'd like to tag along…"

  She grinned, and it was like sunshine after a shower. "I would." She took a step toward him.

  His glance connected with hers. Unconsciously he held his breath; after a long moment he shrugged and turned away. He walked down off the deck without looking back. He could hear her following at his heels, and at the moment he didn't know whether that made him happy or not.

  They walked back toward the house hours later, from the farthest reaches of the grove, and Juliana realized she hadn't thought of a cigarette since she arrived.

  She felt good—tired but satisfied. The beauty of the day surrounded her, as real as the avocado trees, as real as the man beside her.

  Ben had fallen silent, but she was content just to be with him. As they walked along, the soles of their shoes crunched over the thin layer of decomposed granite covering the soft earthen roadway; she heard no other sound.

  At a curve in the road, Ben stepped off the path to check a length of irrigation pipe. He straightened, then reached up to grab a leaf off a tree.

  "See how the leaves are hanging down?" He stroked the leaf tenderly with his thumb. "The trees are a little stressed. It's been another dry year and it shows."

  "Can't you just irrigate more?"

  He gave a short laugh. "It's not that simple." He stepped back onto the path and threw the leaf aside.

  She fell into step beside him, sorry the easy mood had passed. "I know. People are selling agricultural land all the time because it's too expensive to keep it—" she couldn't think of the word she needed and stumbled "—you know, keep it growing things."

  He supplied the word. "Productive."

  She gave him a grateful glance. "That's right, keep it productive. And the rewards for selling out to the developers are too great."

  "Selling out is the proper term for it, all right. But I'm hanging in there. All I need is one decent crop." He spoke fiercely, as if he expected her to argue about it.

  She was way too savvy not to know that one decent crop was just the beginning of what he needed, but no way could she debate the subject.

  They walked for a few more minutes, but the easy feeling was gone. Ahead she could see the barn and the vehicles parked beneath the trees. She didn't want to leave with this strain between them. "Ben," she began hesitantly, "I… I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For… whatever."

  They slowed before the barn. He turned glittering blue eyes toward her. "You didn't do anything. I was thinking about something else."

  She felt a flash of jealousy, and then was ashamed of herself. "Want to talk about it?"

  He shook his shaggy head with finality. "No. I—"

  The kitten hurtled through the barn door and Juliana fell back with a gasp of surprise, crashing into Ben's chest. He caught her around the waist, holding her steady until she regained her composure.

  "It's just Freeloader," she said breathlessly. She stared down at the sleek little creature twining itself around their ankles. She tilted her head to smile at Ben over her shoulder. His face was very near and she could see the deep crease in his right cheek, the faint cleft in his chin.

  He glared at the kitten. "I don't know why it keeps hanging around here." He released her and started to walk away, but the kitten darted between his feet.

  He stumbled and caught his balance, swearing. He drew bac
k one foot, and for a horrified instant, she thought he was going to kick the kitten across the barnyard.

  She gave a little cry of protest and started forward with outstretched arms. Before she could intervene, he scooped the kitten up in his big hands and lifted it to eye level, his expression fierce.

  "Damn freeloading cat," he said explosively, then pressed his cheek against the lustrous fur. Juliana watched, not knowing what to say or do to help him.

  "Did you ever stop to realize that your life is completely at the mercy of 'ifs'? If you'd done this—if you hadn't done that…"

  Ben stopped pacing and glared at Juliana, who sat quietly on the bench against the barn wall. The kitten on her lap yawned and stretched, flexing its claws in the fabric of her jeans. With one hand she idly stroked the little creature, but her attention was on Ben.

  He felt as if a gate had creaked open somewhere deep inside, releasing all the pain and guilt and torment. He couldn't stand still; he started walking again, back and forth, back and forth.

  "If I hadn't taken the job in San Francisco…But I was a cocky bastard. Supercop! I could do it all because I had it all—beautiful wife, fine son, bright future. Man, I felt like a king. Then I killed a man."

  She caught her breath, but it barely registered with him. He'd never said these things out loud before and he couldn't stop now that he'd started. At the moment he wasn't interested in her reaction to his words, only his own.

  "The guy I iced was some derelict suspected of armed robbery. He was reaching inside this old rag of a coat and I thought he was going for a gun So I shot the son of a bitch. Turned out he had this minuscule amount of grass. I guess he thought he was busted and was going to try to eat it or throw it away or some damned thing."

  He groaned. "I went on suspension while the department investigated, which means I sat around all day thinking about it. They finally cleared me but I couldn't seem to get past my own conscience. Lord, I was supposed to protect the weak, not blow them away. It shook the hell out of me."

  "A month after I went back to work, a woman I was interviewing on a drug case was gunned down right in front of me. I'd just got through telling her that she could speak freely— Trust us,' I said. 'We'll protect you'."