Second Chance

By Cheryl Moran

When Tricia wakes up in a strangers home
after a car accident, she doesnt expect to
be captivated by the man and his sons.
Clayton had been alone, raising his sons
after his wifes death. He can not believe
how this woman has opened up his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483640488

Cheryl Moran

Cheryl Moran is a mother of five and a grandmother of eight , who loves to write in her spare time.

Book preview

PRELUDE

This time of year, late November, any kind of weather was probable, from warm sunny days to torrent rains to snow storms. The temperatures ranged usually from the low thirties to the high fifties. High fifties were rare here in Wyoming in the forests of the north-west region; it always seemed cooler, the sun’s warmth hidden by the tall giants with outstretched arms wearing flowing green sleeves that never faded.

The two traveling companions worked often and well together, traveled together comfortably without sexual undertones usually shared by a man and a woman in close quarters. Today wasn’t any different. They had plenty of time to reach their destination, Idaho Falls; they were traveling highway eight-nine to Yellowstone, picking up highway twenty to Idaho Falls. Out of the way some, yes, but twenty was a direct route westward out of the park to Idaho Falls. The pair were stretching their way through a section of Yellowstone and winding their way downwards to an awards dinner in three days. They had plenty of time and each deserved a vacation. So, they drove, visited, catching up on their lives outside of work, and their friendship. When at work, there wasn’t time to be free with their feelings.

Both had families, shared their experiences, and shared their losses. He was closing in on middle age and his kids teased him about nearing the imaginary hill where he’d begin to feel his age slipping away. In their presence, he laughed and sneered the vision they imposed. His hairline wasn’t receding; his dark wavy hair was still full with very little grey and that mostly at the temples. His waistline was thicker, true, but he was nowhere near fat. Wouldn’t ever be if he had anything to say or do about it. He didn’t really drink, not much anyway, not like others he knew and worked with. He was true to his wife, an average guy who tried hard to do a good job and make a decent living for his family. That’s how he envisioned himself and so did his companion.

The young lady accompanying him was a good friend as well as a co-worker. She’d been through so much lately with the death of her husband after a long stretch dealing with cancer, and, now the long hard path her son was embracing as he struggled to recuperate from a terrible car accident two months ago. Blake was a handsome, athletic young man of sixteen reduced to the state of an invalid by a drunk driver, confined to a wheelchair at first because of his legs, but was determined to walk and run again. He had vowed to recover and was on the mend. No one doubted the boy’s courage, or his determination. The doctors all agreed it was possible with long hard hours of therapy which he was doing. Blake wasn’t going to give up; his mom was his coach and his mentor during the tiring trips back and forth to the therapy department after his release from the hospital.

Now, in the car, she sat relaxed. They’d soon reach a town and a motel. She was sleepy, worn thin from all the extra hours of work and caring for her son, who had just gone from a wheelchair to a walker. Crutches then a cane were the next step. The boy could hardly wait.

Their conversation died; contentedly they sat in silence watching the scenery, comfortable in each other’s presence. The trees closed in on them, shaded them from the sunset she loved to watch as they traveled the narrowing winding road. Tricia closed her eyes to rest. The temperature had dropped.

CHAPTER 1

Dad.

Matthew, if I come down there, I won’t be happy with you. Now I’ve asked you to be quiet and let the lady rest. I’ll be down in a few minutes. A deep stern male voice answered. She heard his steps come closer to her ears as he spoke.

Yes, sir, I’m sorry. The lad’s voice sounded contrite. Older-a teenager?

Dad. A new voice penetrated her ears again, calling out to whom?

Footsteps retreated to a doorway? Confusing! Shawn, keep your voice down. The lady needs to rest if she’s to get well.

Where in the world were these voices coming from? Who was Matthew? Who was Shawn? And, who was their dad? She didn’t know these voices or their names. Her foggy mind heard, but she slept on. Who did he mean needs to get well? Not her, surely. She wasn’t sick or hurt. She was going to an awards dinner. She should be there, not here sleeping.

Sorry, Dad, Shawn called back from far away. Downstairs?

Why couldn’t she wake up?

Dad. Another one? Three sons? Her mind was confused.

What is it, Kyle? Why didn’t he tell this one to be quiet as he had the others? How did he know to answer this voice? She was not sure, but he knew.

Telephone, Dad, the one named Kyle called back to his dad.

Thank you, I’ll be right down. This time his voice was closer to her. Where was he? Where was she? In his home? Why? Was he leaving her alone, going to answer that phone? She heard his footsteps diminish as he walked away. She didn’t want to be alone.

Why couldn’t she wake up and open her eyes? Where was she? It hurt her head to think. She had to remember. She tried. Failed.

Why couldn’t she wake up? How long had she been here, wherever she was?

A new voice: Dad! This voice was closer, excited, younger sounding.

Chris, come here, quietly, please. The man spoke gently to this son. Did he know what this one wanted?

The man had his hands full, she decided-four sons, four different voices, four different names she heard-but he sure showed the patience of a saint. Did she know him? No, she didn’t know his voice or his sons’ either. How could she think and hear and not wake up? She listened.

Chris, this lady needs to rest. She doesn’t need to hear kids screaming and yelling. What did you need to tell me? He scolded gently. She couldn’t see both his hands loosely holding his sons forearms to still the boy’s dancing, jumping excitement.

The boy’s excited voice spoke as quietly as he could, Guess what, Dad. This is really important. I think Angel is going to have her puppies-now. Please come. It’s important, he repeated. Young Chris was anxious. She heard footsteps retreat as the man said, I’m coming. Chris and his father left the room.

Where am I, she repeated to herself? She tried to remember, but to no avail.

. . .

Well, good-morning. You’ve decided to rejoin the living-again, I see. Welcome back. The deep rich baritone of the man welcomed her.

Thank you. B… but where am I? How did I get here? She knew she did not know this man. He was too memorable, too tall, and too good-looking to forget. Where did that thought come from?

His deep baritone voice was soothing as he answered her. You are in the small town of Shapiro, Wyoming, at the very edge of it, anyway. I’m also sure you’ve never heard of it, until now. He was a large man, deeply tanned, very muscular from working outside. But, she also noted the wrinkles around his eyes from laughter. His face seemed gentle as he gazed at her. Patient, kind-she prided herself on her judgment of peoples’ character, and was seldom wrong. He was a good man. She remembered he had four sons. He must be a good father, she thought.

His thoughts ran in a similar direction as he gazed at her. She had eyes as dark as coal, hair as silky as the sheets she lay on, skin as dewy and smooth as morning grass on bare feet.

Even worried about where she was, she was beautiful. He could study her forever and never tire of looking at her. It had been so long since he’d felt that way. Six long years since his beautiful wife, Beth, had died. Six long years since his heart had felt alive.

How long have I been here? she ventured to ask.

Oh, about four days, I believe. But, don’t fret. Don’t be in any hurry to jump up and leave. Let your mind get your bearings first. Let your body fully wake up before you move too fast. He patted her arm gently as he would one of his own sons, she thought.

Just try to relax, if I can keep it quiet enough, he said, laughing. There was pride in his voice as well as an apology.

You have a family to take care of, and I’m taking you away from them, she surmised. She felt guilty, but still knew she wanted him near, not knowing why. Not understanding the depth of her feelings.

Now, now, he soothed, Like I said-relax. I’ll bring you something to eat. Something light, I believe. He patted her arm once more before he stood and left the room.

It had been a long time since someone took care of her first. So used to caring for herself, her husband, and her son, she relished the feeling. She lay still. She listened to all the voices that reached her as she waited for his return. Happy, energetic family voices. Oh, how she missed that!

Her stomach growled. Four days, he’d said. How had she gone four days without food? There were so many thoughts going around in her head, so many unanswered questions, and so many disturbing thoughts. How was she to sort them out?

She was still trying to remember how she got here? Shapiro, Wyoming, he had said. No, she’d never heard of it, she shook her head, and then held it. Oh, wow! Wait! I was on my way somewhere… Idaho Falls-passing near here, she guessed. With someone-a friend, she remembered. Brandon Michols, a co-worker. We were going to an awards dinner together. Where was Brandon? Was he here in another room? Was he hurt, too?

Her head hurt to think. But she had to think, to remember. Had to make sense of where she was. They were traveling in a car, her and Brandon. That she remembered. Brandon was driving. They talked. It began to rain light at first, and then it came down in torrents. That she remembered. They could hardly see as buckets of water pelted the windshield, obstructing Brandon’s view. The sky darkened and no town was in sight, yet. The winding road narrowed engulfed by the tall pines bordering it. He must have made a wrong turn, Brandon had said, because the road kept climbing and he thought he should have found a town by now. There weren’t any homes or towns for miles, he thought, just trees and the rain in the black curtain of evening.

Then came the sharp turns. Did they miss one? They must have. Where was Brandon? Was he okay? She’d fallen asleep as he drove. That was all she remembered-snatches as she slept.

Don’t frown like that, the man gently scolded. "You’re going to be fine. The man had returned. She jerked, then reddened, embarrassed.

I’m sorry. I’m trying to remember what happened. A man and I were going to Idaho Falls, she explained. How far are we from there? And, where is the man I was traveling with?" Her uncertainty left her visibly shaken.

Ma’am, you were walking down the road in the dark, wet rain when my oldest son and I came across you. Drenched. No car near. No man either. When I asked you if you needed help, you collapsed in my arms. I carried you to my car and drove here; you’ve been here ever since. He continued, The rain has turned to snow and we haven’t been far from home since then either… . I’m sorry. That’s all I can tell you. He was contrite, serious, worried for her and her friend.

Here’s some chicken soup, and some tea. Please relax and eat. You need to replenish your body to regain your strength. Everything else will take care of itself. He promised.

He sat the lap tray on the bed and helped her prop herself up to enjoy the nourishment.

Touching her now that she was awake brought alive feelings he thought were dead and buried with his deceased wife. This room had been his wife’s during her illness.

To cover his embarrassment from his overactive feelings, he told her, To your left is a bathroom if you feel like freshening up after you eat. Your clothes are clean and here on this chair. I’m sorry there aren’t any women’s clothes here at all, he apologized.

The woman flushed at his words, looked down and realized she had on a man’s shirt many sizes too big. All of her clothes were neatly folded on the chair beside the bed. How had he undressed her and cared for her these past few days? The thought of a man, a stranger, undressing her unnerved her. She was immediately on guard. But, then, he seemed so nice, so honest. Could he be?

Gulping out: Thank you, she managed to tell the man, her embarrassment showing in her reddened cheeks and neck.

Nodding, not wanting to embarrass her further, he turned away to leave her alone to her meal and toilet duties, but she felt compelled to call him back.

His back looked very good to her as did his front, she decided. As an outdoorsman, he was in shape, not too thin, muscled, but not overly so. Rugged came to mind. Her face reddened again as she envisioned her hands on his body and his hands on her body, his eyes seeing all her imperfections. Those big gentle hands, those deep dark blue pools had seen and touched her as she slept. She should be furious, not embarrassed, yet she wondered how he felt as he cared for her. Had he been affected? Had his heartbeat quickened? Shame on you, she scolded herself, but still she liked the thoughts.

She wished she could remember collapsing in his arms, him carrying her to his vehicle. Oh, how her heart would have beat out of her chest at being in those arms. Stop it, she mentally scolded herself. He saved you. He’s helped you. He… wow… he was quite a man.

P… please stay. I mean… that is, if you can. I’m sure you have much to do, and maybe I’ve taken up too much of your time already. She hurriedly invited him, in his own home, apologizing as she did so.

His whole face lit up when he smiled: at her, for her. His heart flipped. He wanted to stay. He knew. She could see that, too. Her heart did a few dips of its own at his smile. Oh my, she was a goner.

I’d be honored, ma’am, was all he said as he moved her clothes to a dresser and sat in the now empty chair he pulled near. His chair, his house, but he said he was honored.

She smiled at the man who lived here, treated her like a royal guest, and acted like it was his pleasure to please her. My name is Tricia, Tricia Sonders. That I remember, She grinned.

Pleased to meet you, Tricia Sonders. I’m Clayton Yearling. His formality was light-hearted.

She smiled. Oh, yes, he liked her smile. Her eyes sparkled. She needed to thank him for all he’d done for her. The pleasure is all mine, I believe. I need to thank you for helping me. What did you do? What did you see while I was incapacitated?

No need to thank me, He shook his head. It wasn’t much, I just let you borrow a bed so you could rest, he told her, his smile matching hers.

Thank you anyway, she returned, another smile appearing. His matched hers in brillance. It seemed both were enthralled by the other’s smile.

She changed the subject: This soup is delicious. Did your wife make it? It sure doesn’t taste like canned soup. Why was she baiting him?

He laughed, a hearty sound, his head shaking No as he did. He was unperturbed. Was he glad she wanted to know? Yes, he was. Was she glad he said no, yes she was.

No wife. I’m a widower, a long time ago. Just me and my boys here. An open, friendly, down to earth man in this day and age? Confusing to her.

I’m sorry… about your wife, I mean. Was she really? Yes and no. Why did she feel glad? She felt unfaithful to her husband’s memory, being here with this man, in a bedroom, in his home.

She and Mike had been married over fourteen years and she had loved him. How could she feel so alive with someone she didn’t know until today?

She tried another subject to ease her guilt. Tell me about your sons. You have more than one, I gather. There she’d changed the subject to a safe one, she hoped.

Yes, ma’am, four strapping boys, all trying to wear me out before my time… You eat now, he gently chided as he continued. Talking about his sons was his pride and joy. "Matthew, the oldest, he’s fourteen and sprouting like a weed-almost six-foot already and eats enough for two, he does. His mouth works overtime some, too, but he’s a good kid.

"Shawn’s next; he’s eleven, skinny, blond hair, blue eyes like Matthew, but the opposite in personality. He’s quite a sports nut, always busy.

"Kyle’s ten, but as big as Shawn already. He’s always on the go somewhere, never still. He loves video games and computers, but also being outside, if that makes sense.

"Christopher is eight and always excited about something. He tries hard to keep up with his brothers. We have a dog, Angel that Chris thinks is his alone. She had puppies yesterday and the boy is in seventh heaven.

You’ll meet them all… soon. They’ve driven me nuts since your arrival. He laughed again, remembering, a free, full, good-natured chuckle from deep within.

He said arrival like she was a special visitor, not a home crasher, like she was expected and welcomed, and, so far, he had treated her that way. Yes, he had.

She didn’t remember her arrival. She didn’t remember meeting him on that road. She didn’t remember getting out of the car and walking. She didn’t remember anything until a few minutes ago.

She finished the meal as he talked. His pride in his boys was overwhelming and it showed. Listening to him ramble on as she ate eased her tension, releasing the clogs that held her past. She remembered her friends, her husband, her son; all of her life fell into place in her conscious mind.

First things first, I’d love to meet them, she said and found she meant it, And I think I’ll try that bathroom. It sounds inviting. Thank you so much for the soup and tea. She gently pushed the tray away, having finished every bite as they talked.

Standing, he picked up the tray and told her, Take, your time. If you need anything, just make a noise, tapping on the sink with that hairbrush, or yell. Either will work. He left her.

Slowly she moved aside the covers noticing for the first time how soft and feminine the sheets and quilt were on the bed. Her bare feet found thick soft warm carpet, the deep color of thick grass after a summer rain; she slowly stood erect. Dizzy, she gripped the headboard to steady herself, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples where her head was throbbing. Four days in bed after a car accident meant her dizziness was probably normal. Gradually her body calmed down and she made her way to the adjoining bathroom.

She was surprised that it took her almost an hour to shower and use the bathroom facilities, but finally she had her own clothes on and her hair blown dry. She felt as close to normal as possible, again. As she stood in front of the mirror, she wondered whose room and bathroom she was using. The towels and carpet were soft, a deep blue with white fixtures. The shower curtain was a deep blue with swans swimming on its pullbacks. Swans held the soap and the toothpaste. A new toothbrush still in its packaging had been left for her use, she was sure. She used it, needed it. Hand lotion came out of a swan’s mouth as she pumped his neck up and down. It definitely was not a man’s or a boy’s room. Was it his wife’s? Had they had separate rooms?

She replaced the towel and blow dryer, returned the ivory brush and comb set-also too feminine-to their swan holder and opened the door. Standing still, leaning on the closed bathroom door, she surveyed the room she had been in for four days. Deep green carpet, matching printed drapes, flowered comforter of blue and green on the bed, thrown back to reveal the old piece quilt of a pattern she didn’t recognize. Satin sheets were a baby blue color, and chair seat covers decorated with the same pattern as the curtains; an old oak desk, well used, two twin end tables in scared oak with antique lamps sporting small blue and green print shades, lastly walls full of pictures.

She made her way meticulously around the room, studying each picture: a man and a woman, middle aged with two children, a boy and a girl about seven or eight or so. Another one had the girl doing dance steps for the camera, smiling, enjoying the attention. The next one was of a boy and his bike, and then another boy with his first car-she was sure by the smile on his face. Again, the young lady with that young man all dressed up for a date; it was followed by the young man and his girlfriend and his car. Another new car, or was it two different guys? No she was sure it was the same young man. Was this young man the adult male she had encountered here in this room? The young lady’s wedding picture was next, followed by more of the couple. They looked happy. Then the babies came, blond haired, blue-eyed baby boys. All four boys were depicted in various ages except the youngest-the pictures ended when he was maybe two. He looked like a toddler he was so young.

My wife’s life story is depicted in all those pictures. This was her room, our room then. His deep emotional voice startled her and she literrally jumped.

Flushed and embarrassed at being caught snooping, she stuttered, I… I’m s… so sorry. I had no right. But, these are so beautiful. She recovered. She was beautiful. I’m sorry. You must miss her very much. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her thoughts were her undoing-they were of him, how good he looked in his jeans, lean, but muscular. His shirt was open at the neck revealing a few dark chest hairs. She wanted to feel them. Her fingers itched to be there. The way his shirt accented his muscles and his lean waistline, his flat stomach, she almost couldn’t breathe. His smile, his mouth, they were so tempting, she wanted to slap herself sane-her thoughts were not sane. She shook her head some more. Come on, Tricia, you’ll be drooling soon, she reprimanded herself.

Her husband had only been gone two years and she knew she had loved him. How, in such a short time, could her mind, her heart, and her body all betray her? Why was she so drawn to him? Why was she so sexually attracted? Was it only sex? Or was she connecting on some deeper level? How could she? She had just met him?

He didn’t seem to notice her obsession. If only he had! I’ve accepted it. She’s gone, died a long time ago-six years. I keep all this. He waved his hand around the whole room, and then continued, So that the boys won’t forget their mother. Thought that fair for them. He added, Chris and Kyle have trouble remembering, they were only two and four and she was sick for so long. It’s been hardest on them to remember any good times.

He came up beside her and began to tell her stories to go with the pictures, outings with the boys, picnics, birthdays, holidays. She could tell he’d told these stories many times to his sons to help keep their mother’s memory alive.

What she didn’t know was that the scent of the soap and shampoo his wife had loved smelled so different on her. He almost took her in his arms and kissed her there in front of all those pictures. She didn’t know the restraint he was controlling to act natural, trying to concentrate on the pictures and the stories. He wasn’t sure how long he could control himself. Four days he’d looked at her face, soothed her with a wet washcloth, and thought about kissing her as she lay in the bed his wife had occupied long ago. His wife’s had not been the face he saw when he went to bed at night, but this woman’s had. He had dreamt of this woman and was not ashamed of that. That was not like him at all.

She was talking. He tried to listen. You were very happy; I can tell from the pictures, and from your voice. You loved her very much. The knowledge didn’t make her feel any better, but she knew it was true.

He smiled his smile for her, not his lost love. I did, but you can’t live forever on memories. The boys and I have gone on. They are my joy now, my life. Come… if you feel up to it. I’ll introduce you.

She started to refuse, to back off until his arm went around her waist. He’d thought she was still weak and off balance. The electric spark triggered by his fingertips left her hot, unbalanced, yes. She glanced up at his face and knew from his eyes that he’d felt it, too. The sensual reaction embarrassed them both as it stirred them. Both flushed.

He did what any normal man would have done who’d been without a woman for six years. He turned her to face him, cupped his free hand beside her face and lifted her chin with his palm. The kiss they shared blew him away, burned him from his hair to his toes with electricity. All his senses came alive; everything he’d buried surfaced. As she responded, he delved deeper until he thought he could not stand any more. That bed was so close. He could not go there.

He did what any normal man did when the attraction was so strong he could hardly breathe.

He turned her to face him. She stood so still. It was his move. She wanted his touch so much she couldn’t speak. Her throat was dry, parched, demanding his invasion of her mouth. She’d responded so fiercely; she didn’t know she could be like this with a man she had just met. But, oh, it seemed so right. The attraction was her undoing; she almost pulled him to the bed.

Dad. Like a douse of cold water the voice reached his ears. He broke the kiss hurriedly, but had to hold onto her to steady them both. He felt just as rickety as he knew she was.

The child’s voice broke the spell for her too but did nothing to ease her jittery body.

Taking a deep breath, he responded to the call, Yes, Shawn.

Are you coming? We don’t want to sit much longer. The most outspoken one of the group was his Shawn.

We’ll be right there, son. Sheepishly, he told Tricia. I made them all wait in the front room, sitting, to meet you, clean, too. They’ve driven me nuts since Matt and I brought you here.

Smiling back, as a mom, as a parent, she understood restlessness in kids. We’d better not keep them waiting any longer, then. She watched as he nodded and slowly backed away. Immediately she missed his closeness. Oh, you shameful woman, you, she told herself as she followed him through his house to where voices were hushed. Four young men were trying to be quiet. They knew their father’s temper sometimes and had learned to sidestep, when they could.

When Clayton paused at the doorway, Tricia saw four young men hurriedly sit up straight. Their eyes all turned toward their father and her.

Tricia, these are my sons. Mrs. Sonders. He became formal for them. This is Matthew. He nodded toward the oldest lad.

Ma’am. He stood for only a second before he sat back down. Too formal for a teenager, she thought as she said, Hi.

Shawn. He nodded at number two.

Ma’am. He imitated his brother.

Kyle.

Hi, the ten-year-old half stood, and then sat back down quickly. Clayton shook his head, frowned, and then dismissed the boy’s action. He knew his son well.

And, Christopher. Clayton smiled at his youngest who was fidgeting.

Hi, Christopher returned, not still, but also not standing as his brothers had.

She found he voice. Hi, guys. I’m pleased to meet all of you. Tricia hid the nervousness she felt. Biting her bottom lip to steady herself, she then gave them a forced smile and entered the room. They were adorable, she concluded, watching them. Her smile widen into a real one.

Clayton had made the boys wash up to be presented to Tricia. He’d instructed them to sit still until he introduced them and not bombard her with questions. They were all staring, the questions popping out, but unspoken.

Her lips were swollen from his kiss, but these guys didn’t know that. Otherwise, she’d cleaned up pretty good for being hurt. Her color was still pale, her body weak. Clayton offered her an