Second Chances (26 page)

Ingrid reeled from the news divulged to her the day before. Kristin was having a baby. It was a hard concept to wrap her mind around. She had never wanted any children. But the excitement of experiencing her friend’s pregnancy lifted her heart.

The bartender set her drink in front of her on the polished wood counter. “Thank you, it looks perfect.”

She closed her eyes and let the small sting of the alcohol coat her throat, the spreading warmth calming her nerves.

The warmth from her drink went to her toes and she scanned the room, so she wouldn’t drink too fast. The atmosphere of the pub was calm, devoid of the usual noisy hum of boisterous socializing. Ingrid came here often when all she wanted was a quiet drink after work, a place to unwind without all of the usual pub activity.

As Ingrid turned in her seat, she froze, and her breath caught in her throat. David McDougal sat alone, staring blankly into a half empty glass of what looked like scotch. His features had a worn, nearly defeated look. It looked like he’d slept in his rumpled clothes, except that his unshaven face and the dark circles under his eyes indicated he hadn’t slept for days.

Ingrid almost felt sorry for himalmost. She kicked herself repeatedly for being the one who’d left him and Kristin alone together that night at the art auction. Grim responsibility for pushing Kristin to move on with her personal life tugged at Ingrid daily.

She’d go over there and give him a piece of her mind, but she might let something slip about the baby. And it wasn’t her place to let him know anything. Instead, Ingrid plucked her stack of tabloid magazines from her briefcase, and began perusing the pages.

Kristin always chided her for reading such nonsense, but Ingrid declared that it was all in the name of research. She had to keep an eye on what stories were being printed in order to protect the clients she represented. Well, there was that, and it was also fun to read the gossip.

She chuckled, turned a page, and almost spilled her drink. The headline of the article stunned her.

Sophie Miller in Movie Miscarriage Fiasco
.

Usually Ingrid only believed half of what these articles said, but she read this one in detail.

Sophie Miller was released from hospital last week where she recovered from an apparent pregnancy miscarriage. Sources say that while filming a light stunt scene that involved a wire harness, she began having abdominal pain and bleeding, and had to be rushed by ambulance to a nearby medical facility. Apparently, no one on set but her fiancé David McDougal even knew about the pregnancy, and stated that if they had known, they would have recommended using a stunt double for even the light stunts. Sophie is said to be healing nicely and will return to work when she is released by her doctor. David could not be reached for comment.

Ingrid downed the rest of her martini in one gulp, the liquor stinging her throat. She laid a few pounds on the bar and shoved them toward the bartender before standing and heading toward David.

~~~

David’s gaze lingered on his glass of scotch, almost as if he expected it to somehow spout all of the answers to his problems. It had been a month since Kristin had left him waiting outside his apartment building, and his life had gone entirely downhill ever since.

When Sophie had shown up and waylaid him with the news of her pregnancy, he’d tried to work it out for the baby. But now, David knew Sophie for the maniac she truly was. He had never been so hopeless, and desperately alone in all his life. He couldn’t sleep, food held no pleasure, and he’d even avoided work, much to Bernard’s dismay.

Nothing in David’s life held any kind of joy or meaning for him any more. Even the one joy from a new baby had been taken away from him. He’d fooled himself into thinking that he and Sophie could work this whole parent thing out.

He had toyed with the idea of contacting Kristin when he’d returned to London, but he’d lost his nerve. Besides, what would they say to each other? Hadn’t her absence on his trip to Wales been answer enough to his question of her willingness to fight for their love?

He ran his shaking hand through his unkempt hair and downed the last of the scotch in his glass.

“You honestly look like hell.”

David snapped his head in the direction of the voice. Confusion and then slow recognition dawned. Kristin’s friend Ingrid stood next to him, her hand on her hip.

“Hello Ingrid.” His voice was flat as he motioned for the bartender to re-fill his glass.

Ingrid took a seat on the empty stool next to him. “So, are you going to explain yourself or just sit there drowning in scotch?”

David turned to her, irritation bristling along his spine at her questions. Why couldn’t she just leave him to his misery? “What would you like me to say?”

“How about anything that would explain this?” Ingrid plopped the tabloid article on the bar in front of him.

His heart ached as he saw the headline. The pain of the loss due to Sophie’s lies twisted in his gut. He didn’t need to read it as he’d been present when it happened. So much had been lost in his life recently, it just wasn’t fair.

The slam of his glass on the counter sounded sharply as he turned to face her, anger burning in his veins as she forced him to talk about his pain. “Yes, damn it! It’s true. Is that what you want to hear?”

“What good would it do now? Why would it matter?” David turned to his drink once more, his anger suddenly swallowed in weary despair.

Ingrid squeezed his arm, and his gaze whipped back to hers. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw pity in her expression. Maybe even a desire to understand, somehow, which was funny since he didn’t even understand it all himself.

“Just tell me.” Her voice pleaded gently with him.

David shook his head to try to clear it, and took a deep, but quavering, breath. Maybe it would do him some good to get things out in the open. Maybe he would be just a tiny bit less miserable if he unloaded some of his burden onto someone else.

“I tried to make some type of relationship with Sophie, for the sake of the baby. But some things aren’t meant to be, and any type of adult relationship with that woman was one of those things.” David ran a hand nervously through his hair as his chest ached with so many painful memories.

“I couldn’t convince her to take better care of herself and slow down, and she wanted to act like nothing was ever wrong between us.” His heart couldn’t go to anyone but Kristin. But, Kristin’s obvious choice became his life.

He paused for a moment and took another drink. The ice in his scotch clinked against the side of the glass as his hand trembled. “I begged her not to film the stunt. I was so worried about the baby. I was about to tell the director, when she started complaining her stomach hurt.”

Ingrid tilted her head. “So, she was in pain before the stunt started filming?”

He nodded. “Yes. She only got as far as having the harness fitted and arriving on set.” Sophie’s vanity never entered his mind. It should have.

“So, if the stunt didn’t cause the miscarriage, what did?”

His fist clenched tightly. Anger churned his gut at the same time as sadness panged in his chest. “Sophie had been taking diet pills, unbeknownst to everyone, and obviously, it hurt the baby.” He hated her arrogance and that she didn’t love the baby enough to put it aside.

Ingrid’s hand covered her mouth in shock. “It doesn’t say anything about drugs in there.” She nodded toward the article.

“Yeah, well, we were able to keep that bit out of the press. Thought a set accident would be better than killing your baby with drugs.”

Ingrid winced at his blunt remark. “What happened afterwards?”

David let a sarcastic chortle escape his lips. “I finally have something to bargain with for my freedom. The fear that any part of the truth of what she did getting out into the press is enough for her to leave me alone.”

Ingrid laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, but why haven’t you told Kristin any of this?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Why would she care? She made her choice when I left for Wales.
Alone
.”

Ingrid squeezed his shoulder. “David, I want you to listen to me, and listen to me good. You must talk to Kristin, do you understand? You
must
talk to herthe sooner, the better.”

Each word was enunciated slowly and deliberately, as if she wanted them to take root in his grief and liquor-muddled brain. He tilted his head in confusion at the change in her tone, watching as she slid slowly from the barstool to leave.

“Talk to her,” Ingrid implored him again, before walking out of the pub.

He stared after her for a moment, confused by the conclusion of their conversation. The quiet urgency that had entered her voice, made it seem like there was something extremely important that she needed to say to him, but couldn’t. He finished the last of his drink. The bartender moved to re-fill it again, and David shook his head. His head pounded so fiercely he squeezed his eyes shut as the headache made him wince.

As he walked outside, the fresh air hit him in a rush, and helped to clear his scotch-laden brain a little. Maybe Ingrid was right. Maybe he should try to contact Kristin, but why? Would she even be interested in anything he had to say? David shook his head again and lifted his arm to hail a taxi. He had a lot of serious thinking to do.

Chapter Thirteen

Two weeks after she told Ingrid about the baby, Kristin stood in the middle of Haven’s main exhibition room, and her heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and fear. Finally, she had done it. She had taken the plunge from mere gallery owner to full-fledged artist.

In all her years of creating her art in secret, Kristin never imagined she’d arrive at this moment. Pride filled her chest to overflowing, covering her in its sunny glow. She basked in the confidence that was so alien to her, embracing the sensation willingly.

As Kristin surveyed the room, the years of her hidden passions stared back at her from the walls. Every painting held a story, a memory, and it was a little peculiar to have them all out here in the open for everyone to see.

Peculiar, yet right at the same time.

Unbelievably, she had found it within herself to make peace with the past connected to these paintings, so they became mere reflections of her soul, instead of the actual fragments that she had thought they were. She wasn’t sure exactly how this personal transformation had come about, but assumed it had a lot to do with the new life growing inside her. She rubbed her stomach, although she wasn’t showing yet.

The courage she’d found through her love for David removed the distrust she had regarding people. He’d helped her to see that giving just a little of herself wasn’t painful. Even through the heartache, she learned that the pain was only temporary.

Kristin smiled and looked around again, keeping her hand lightly on her stomach. Her clothes were a bit tighter these days, even though she wasn’t showing. That would change with each passing week. This was the start of the future she wanted for her child, a legacy that would permit her to have the means to be the best mother she could.

Ingrid and Celia had been flabbergasted when Kristin had brought them together and shown them her artistic work. Immediately, both friends supported her decision to show publicly as an artist. Working as a unit, they had pulled the show together in just two weeks, the opening scheduled for tomorrow. Everything was in place except for one thing, which Kristin was getting ready to take care of herself.

She picked up the large canvas that leaned against the wall and set the piece on the easel in the gallery’s front window. Then she walked outside to check the view from the street. David’s image almost filled the large picture window. She tilted her head and stared at what Celia called her masterpiece.

Whenever she gazed at the dark chocolate brown eyes in the painting her gut wrenched, but not nearly as much as before. Celia had wanted the piece immediately for the front display, stating that the work would do wonders to bring in customers off the street. Kristin had finally reluctantly agreed under one condition. This work would be the only painting on display that was not for sale. Though Kristin had apparently made peace with others seeing her obsession, she wasn’t quite ready to part with this piece of her soul just yet.

Kristin stood and squinted at the painting, trying to judge if the display angle was sufficient.

“Hello Kristin,” from behind her she heard the lilting voice she often heard in her dreams, tormenting her and comforting her at the same time. Even now, the sound made her heart flutter and her hands tremble.

She stiffened in surprise, and her pulse raced.

Kristin turned slowly to gaze into those piercing brown eyes she had lost herself in so many times. Those eyes that had seen instantly through to her soul, touching her in ways she’d never thought possible, making her believe foolishly in love once again.

His chiseled jaw and sensual lips beckoned to her as always, even though the features were a little more drawn and haggard. His tall frame towered over her, the outline of his lean muscles straining the fabric of his T-shirt.