This Time Forever (12 page)

“What’s wrong?” Rebekka asked.

“It’s my brother-in-law. He died yesterday. They’re delaying the funeral until Tuesday so we can be there. We’ll have to leave on Monday.”

“On Monday,” Rebekka repeated. She’d expected at least a week in Anchorage. “I’m so sorry. How’s your sister holding up?”

Brionney began walking. “I don’t know, really. I’ve only talked to her once since it happened. Of all my sisters, she’s the one who kept mostly to herself, though I think I’m beginning to understand that it was more because of her husband than anyone else. Turns out he was kind of possessive.”

“How’d he die?”

Brionney glanced at the girls, who’d run ahead. “Suicide. He drove right off a cliff in his car. My mom says he had planned to shoot himself, but he must have chickened out at the last moment. I still can’t believe it. My dad says he’s had a lot of mental problems because of the seizures he used to have and the medication he took for so many years. I don’t know. I feel like I shouldn’t blame him, but I do. I’ve never heard my sister sound so lost. She really loved him.”

“I’m sorry.” Rebekka put a comforting arm around Brionney as they continued walking. “That’s tough.”

“We’ll get over it eventually, I suppose. Mickelle, too. But I can’t imagine living without Jesse. Mickelle has to be hurting really bad.”

Rebekka could imagine it—at least somewhat. In a way, Marc was dead to her now. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she clamped her jaw tightly shut until the emotion faded. It wasn’t the same thing, not really. Marc still lived out there somewhere, even if he wasn’t a part of her life.

“At any rate,” Brionney continued, “I don’t expect you to fly with us on Monday. Damon can’t leave until Friday at the earliest, so I thought you could stay with him and the kids until then. They have a part-time cook, and a housekeeper, so you won’t be alone without help. The housekeeper is actually going with them to Utah until they can find a replacement, but she’s not very good with the children.”

“Probably because they’re making the messes.” A picture popped into Rebekka’s mind of a mean-looking woman following the children around to prevent them from dirtying anything. She nearly laughed.

“Something like that.”

“I can still go with you. I don’t mind flying again so soon.”

“But you wanted to see Alaska. You can’t really do that in one day—and tomorrow’s a Sunday to boot.” She gave a long sigh. “And to think that the other choice in your flight was to change planes in Salt Lake City. You could have just stayed there if we’d chosen that one.”

“It’s okay, Brionney. Don’t worry about it. I’m here now, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Brionney grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. With us having to leave so quickly, there’s a whole list of things I haven’t been able to do yet. If you could stay and make sure they get done, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Okay,” Rebekka said, laughing. “I’m at your disposal.”

“You’re a lifesaver. I’m so glad you’re here.”

* * * * *

On Monday morning, after Brionney’s friend Damon had driven the Hergarters to the airport, Rebekka took Brionney’s short list and began her duties. First she packed the rest of the toys and books in the children’s bedrooms and stacked the boxes with the others in the living room, and then she began working on the kitchen items. She was kneeling on the floor, elbows deep in pots and pans, when she heard a sound and looked up to see a man watching her.

He was in his late thirties, she decided, and his short hair was a yellow blond. His angular face was full of sharp planes, from his slightly hooked nose to his strong chin. He wore the beginnings of a moustache over well-molded lips, but his best feature by far was his amber-brown eyes, framed by thick, feathery brows. While he wasn’t the type Rebekka would normally consider handsome, he had a magnetism that somehow compelled her to return his gaze.

“Hello,” she managed, sitting back on her feet. “You must be Damon.”

He smiled, and she caught a glimpse of something gold in his mouth as he spoke. “Yes, Damon Wolfe. You must be Rebekka.” He moved toward her with an outstretched arm.

She came to her feet, her own hand extended. “Nice to meet you. I mean, I kind of saw you this morning through the window when you were piling suitcases into a van, but we didn’t officially meet.” She grinned. “At least I think it was you, and I’m pretty sure it was a van. I must still have jet lag.”

He laughed, a warm, full sound, but the unique amber eyes held a sadness that made her wonder if he still mourned his dead wife. “It was a van. Borrowed. I took it back to its owner.” He perused her work. “Need help?”

“This is pretty much the last room. I’ve packed the rest of the children’s things, and Brionney had her room already finished. There are a lot of boxes. I guess it’s a good thing the furniture’s staying.”

“What about the books in the living room?”

Rebekka grimaced. “I didn’t see those.”

Damon bent over to pick up a stack of dishes Rebekka had wrapped in paper. “Good thing you’re here. The movers are coming at noon. I thought I was going to have to do this all myself.” He put his load gingerly into a box.

Rebekka started laughing. The idea of this multimillionaire packing someone else’s boxes was too funny.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His genuine puzzlement made her laugh harder. She collapsed onto a wooden chair.

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

Rebekka sobered enough to gaze at him innocently. “What?” Another giggle burst through, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

His lips pursed. “You’re thinking a man doesn’t know how to pack dishes.”

She shook her head, enveloped by another giggle. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“It’s the idea of you packing at all. I mean, are you doing
your
packing?”

“No, I’m hiring a company. Oh, I see—you have a problem with me packing because I have a lot of money.”

She nodded and began laughing again. “It’s funny.” A tear escaped and rolled down her cheeks.

“It’s not
that
funny,” he said, his lips twitching beneath the moustache.

“No,” she agreed. Yet she didn’t stop laughing. After all the agony with Marc, she needed a good laugh.

Damon began to chuckle. He sat down on the chair next to her and let out a loud laugh, which made Rebekka laugh even harder. How long they laughed, Rebekka didn’t know; but she felt the anger and sadness in her soul evaporate. The melancholy in his eyes also seemed to disappear, and a kinship sprang up between them. Finally they settled down, though a stray laugh still emerged occasionally.

Damon jumped to his feet. “I think I like you, Bekka—I can call you Bekka, can’t I?—and I think my children will like you, too. What do you say we go get them and grab a late breakfast?”

“But the movers . . .”

“We’ll be back before they get here—with plenty of time to finish the packing. Have you ever known movers to be on time?”

“You’re right.” She stood and followed him from the room, noticing how broad his shoulders seemed. There was a lot to be said for a man who could laugh at himself and let others do the same without taking offense. It showed his self-confidence.

He led her outside to a dark-blue Mercedes and opened the passenger door. They drove ten minutes to Damon’s house, a mansion really—especially to Rebekka, who had lived all her life inside an apartment building. She’d always considered her parents wealthy, but this was way beyond her idea of rich. There were boxes everywhere, but no workers in sight, and she understood that this was just the beginning. The expensive furniture she saw everywhere would be going to Utah, as well.

“Tan! Belle!” Damon called. No answer.

He gave her a knowing smile. “Watch this.” He made his voice louder. “I’m going out for some food. Wanna come?” Almost immediately, Rebekka heard movement among the boxes. A teenaged boy with brown hair and eyes materialized in front of them. He was as tall as Rebekka, but looked as though he might grow again at any second.

“This famished young person is my son, Tanner,” Damon said. “Tan for short. Tan, this is Bekka.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tanner said politely. “And actually, Dad’s the only one who calls me Tan. Everyone else says Tanner.” The lower half of his hair was close-cropped, but the top hung to one length about an inch above his ears.

“I’m glad to meet you, Tanner. I had no idea you were so grown up. I’ll bet you’re going to be taller than your dad one day.”

The tips of Tanner’s exposed ears reddened. “Maybe,” he said. Damon flashed Rebekka an amused glance over the boy’s head.

Tanner looked at his dad. “Where we gonna eat?”

“Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere.”

“That’s a first. You usually have an idea. What happened—cat got your tongue?”

Tanner shrugged, but his shy glance at Rebekka spoke volumes.

Damon seemed to know when to back off. “Have you seen Belle?”

“She’s hiding,” Tanner said in a loud whisper. “She says she’s not going to Utah.”

“I am not hiding,” proclaimed a small voice from nearby. Rebekka looked around but couldn’t find the speaker.

“She’s mad,” Tanner added.

“Am not!”

Damon put a quieting hand on his son’s shoulder. “I guess Belle isn’t here. I think we’d better eat without her. But that’s okay, because she doesn’t like McDonald’s that much.”

“It’s really her favorite,” Tanner whispered to Rebekka.

To Rebekka’s right, a box rose partially and two little feet appeared. Damon helped lift the box off his daughter. She looked up at them through brown eyes tinted with amber like her father’s, her tiny hands clutching a stuffed brown bear that was half as tall as she was. She lifted her chin. “I wanna go, too.”

“Okay, but first I want you to meet Rebekka.”

“I thought her name was Bekka.”

“That’s for short—like Belle, for Isabelle.”

Belle’s eyebrows drew tightly together. “I like Rebekka better.”

Rebekka bent down to face the little girl. “You can call me Rebekka.”

Belle regarded her quietly for a moment. “You talk kind of funny.”

“Belle,” Tanner groaned.

“She’s from France, remember?” Damon said.

“Oh, yeah. Then you know what my nickname means.”

“Yes, it means beauty.” Rebekka touched the bear. “And who’s this?”

Belle held him tight. “Bear.”

“Just Bear?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Is Bear going to eat with us?”

Belle nodded.

“Well, I hope he doesn’t eat too much.” Rebekka was gratified to see a brief smile. She straightened and looked at Damon in triumph.

But Belle wasn’t finished. “I don’t like you, and I want you to go back to France!”

Having made her announcement, Belle turned and disappeared into the maze of boxes. Damon started after her. “Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder to Rebekka. “She likes to shake people up.”

Tanner looked at her sympathetically. “She’ll come around.”

Rebekka realized her mouth was hanging open in shock. She smiled at Tanner and was gratified to see him flush. At least one of the children had taken to her. Still, maybe this job wouldn’t be as easy as she’d expected.

Before long, Damon had rounded up Belle and they were on their way to McDonald’s. Once there, he took care of everything, including making a trip to the rest room with Belle. Rebekka was amazed at the wealth of kindness and patience in the man.

It was then she realized that since Damon had walked into Brionney’s kitchen, she hadn’t once thought of Marc.

CHAPTER TEN

Tuesday dawned—the morning of Riley’s funeral. Mickelle was so numb and exhausted that she didn’t think she could cry any more tears. But when she saw Riley’s bulk in the casket, his bruised and battered face forever molded into an expression of peace that he had rarely displayed in life, she began to sob again.

It’s not my fault,
she told herself.

Except she felt that it was. She kissed his cold, tranquil face before allowing them to close the casket one final time. Her heart ached.

The service was beautiful and comforting to Mickelle. As she listened to her father talk about Riley’s good qualities and the challenges he had faced because of his seizures, she began to forgive him for leaving her.

I can’t condemn him for this,
she thought.
The Lord will be the judge. Only He knows what desperation Riley experienced to be driven to such an act.

If only she could forgive herself so easily.

Another thought, less charitable than the first, came as she glanced around at those who’d come to the funeral.
Riley would love all this attention. He’d be satisfied to see my tears.

Brionney and Jesse had flown in from Anchorage the day before, and Mickelle was glad she’d delayed Riley’s funeral so they could be present. However, she wished the reunion with her little sister could have taken place under better circumstances. With everything going on, they had only moments to exchange a few words.

Brionney’s three daughters were cute and well-behaved, and the twins noisy—at least one of them—though they were so cute that no one seemed to mind. As the youngest children in the family, with the exception of Zack’s children in France, they had no end of older cousins who were wannabe baby-sitters.

After the burial at the cemetery and a luncheon at the church, Mickelle went home. Her parents and sisters stayed until the evening meal was cleared away and the dishes washed. Then they went home to their waiting families. Irene and Terrell were the last to leave.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay a few more nights?” Irene asked. “I really don’t mind. Or if you’d like, you can all come home with us.”

“No, thank you, Mom. You’ve done enough.” Mickelle and the boys hadn’t been alone in the house since Riley had died. And she wanted to be. She wasn’t worried about being alone. In fact, she couldn’t feel much of anything, except the guilt, and she would have to live with that.