This Time Forever (25 page)

She tried instead to focus on Brother Chatham’s nodding head as his eyes drooped. If he could sleep, so could she.

One of the Reeves boys threw a wad of paper. It sailed through the air and hit Brother Chatham on the top of his balding head. He snorted and opened his eyes, and then smiled and waved at the boys, as though grateful they had awakened him in time for the passing of the sacrament.

Mickelle returned to watching the hypnotic up-and-down motion of the Sunberg baby. Her face held a beatific smile that vanished each time her parents stopped the bouncing. Mickelle continued to watch them with the baby and noticed that Sister Sunberg rocked out of habit, even when she wasn’t holding the child.

As Mickelle listened to the simple truths in church, she felt the anger drain from her heart and thankfulness take its place. She’d lost so much—her husband, her financial security, and now her car. But she had her children, an extended family who loved her, and the gospel of Jesus Christ.

She stared around at her friends and neighbors, amazed at the love surging through her. She understood the love came not only from them but from her God, her Father. In that moment, she understood how He suffered with her. How He had carried her through the difficult summer.

Thank you so much for everything You have done for me, she thought. I know You live and that Christ is my Savior. I know You love me.

She vowed that she would no longer let her life continue in shambles. She would make something of herself, of her children. She was a daughter of God! A beloved child! If she had been given this trial, it was because her Father knew she would rise to the occasion. And she would have help—His help. Why hadn’t she remembered that before? Whatever else she did in her life, she could not fail the Lord’s expectations. He knew her better than anyone. He knew that she had been hiding from life, and He had now given her a subtle reminder that it was time to change. She was worth that; she was His daughter.

With this renewed realization, Mickelle made a goal to begin again the scripture reading that she had so long neglected. She decided to study by topic, beginning with prayer. She had heard that prayer could work miracles, and she believed that to put her life back on the right path, a miracle was exactly what she needed.

* * * * *

The next morning, Mickelle went to UVU to pick up the latest class schedule and financial aid forms. She felt self-conscious as she climbed into the passenger side of the Snail and slid over but tried not to let it bother her. As yet, Mr. Wolfe had not returned her calls or made any move to settle her expenses.

She made a sudden decision. “I’ll go over to that boy’s house tonight and confront his father about the damage. I will make him pay for it! He should be responsible for his son.”

That night they had an early dinner and family home evening. Bryan gave a lesson on donations to the church. It occurred to Mickelle that the only one in their family who really needed this lesson wasn’t around to hear it. Tithing had been a source of constant contention between her and Riley. He had never really believed in the concept.

After eating ice cream and cookies for dessert, the boys went with her in the Snail to search out the address on the sheet Officer Lowder had given her. As they drove toward Alpine, dark clouds gathered in the sky, making it appear much later than seven-thirty, and a heavy rain began suddenly, falling in sheets from the heavens. Mickelle could barely see the road, even with the wipers on high speed. The wiper blades were old and didn’t do a decent job of cleaning the windshield. Mickelle had asked Riley to replace them, but he had never gotten around to it. Since then, she hadn’t cared enough about anything to figure out how to change them herself.

She almost gave up and drove home, but knew she would only be putting off the inevitable. Eventually, she would have to deal with Mr. Wolfe. She pressed on, peering at the street signs through the dark and the rain.

It took them nearly half an hour to find their way to their destination. The Wolfe residence, situated regally at the end of a long, tree-lined driveway, took her by surprise. It was not a house, but a Victorian mansion, surrounded by bright flower beds, a very green lawn, and paper birch and black walnut trees that reached far into the darkening sky. There were large windows and a covered porch that wrapped around the right side of the house, giving it the circular feel of a castle. Another turret sprang from the top floor of the left side of the house, looking like the perfect place for a captive princess. So beautiful, yet the overall appearance was eerie and sinister in the darkness and rain. Mickelle blinked, too stunned to feel anything but amazement. This was where the people lived whose lives continued unaltered by the car accident, while each day she endured unimaginable turmoil.

“Wow! They must be rich.” Bryan had his face pressed up against the passenger side window.

In the backseat, Jeremy shuddered. “Is that a witch house?”

“Of course not.” Mickelle felt disturbed by the question.

“It just looks that way ’cause of the dark,” Bryan said. “And those towers.”

“Turrets,” Mickelle corrected, turning off the engine. “It’s a beautiful house. Look, you guys stay here and wait for me. I don’t know what kind of reception I’m going to get.” Amid their protests, she raised her voice. “I mean it. I’ll be right back.”

She walked with determination up the flower-lined walk. Approaching the porch, she saw tiny climbing roses in many colors inching along the white-painted wooden railings.
So beautiful,
she thought with a little burst of envy and more than a little resentment. She couldn’t help thinking that the roses would look beautiful climbing the metal railing on her own narrow cement porch, or even trailing over her old fence in the backyard.

The house was even larger up close, and a nervous knot formed in her stomach. The rain had lightened considerably, but it still came down strongly enough to make her feel like something dragged from a ditch. At least her hair, drawn back at the nape of her neck with a clip, couldn’t be any worse for the pelting.

On the porch she was protected from the rain, though she still felt wet and chilled. She began to tremble, though whether with cold or nervousness she couldn’t tell.
Maybe I should leave.
But she knew that if Mr. Wolfe was a Mormon, Monday night would be the best time to find him at home. Of course, that was presuming he believed in family night. Holding her breath, she rang the doorbell.

A series of low-pitched bongs sounded throughout the house. For a long time nothing happened, but then she heard footsteps approaching, followed by the turning of a series of locks. The door opened to reveal a yellow-haired man in his late thirties. He was a few inches taller than average height, and Mickelle had to look up to meet his eyes. Oh, those eyes! They were the most unusual color of amber she had ever seen, and framed by thick, feathery brows. His face was ruggedly handsome with sharp curves, angular jaws and cheeks, and a few deep lines in his cheeks and forehead that added individuality. He wore a short moustache, slightly darker than his yellow-blond hair, combed neatly above a generous mouth. In all, he was a strong-looking man with undeniable magnetism.

This can’t be Mr. Wolfe,
she thought. If he was, he didn’t look much like his son.

“May I help you?” he asked. As he spoke, she caught the glimmer of a gold tooth far back in his mouth. He smiled at her graciously, waiting.

Mickelle abruptly felt conscious of the black stretch pants and oversized black sweater she wore. With the added effect of the rain, she must look like a dark, wet blob. The mascara she had put on for her visit to the college was likely making black tracks down her face. She wiped at her cheek; sure enough, her hand came away with traces of mascara. Why did it have to be raining? Why did he have to be so terribly good-looking? And why on earth was she even noticing?

“I’m here to see Mr. Wolfe,” she announced, gathering the remains of her courage.

“You’ve found him.” He said it quickly, with the air of a man who had nothing to hide.

Mickelle wanted to shout, “Aha, I caught you!” but refrained. “I’m Mickelle Hansen,” she said. “Your son crashed into my car last week. I’ve been trying to call you to talk about what—”

“My son crashed into you?” His feathery eyebrows rose. “From what I heard, it was sort of a mutual thing.”

Mickelle bristled. “
I
had the right of way! Your son turned right in front of me—into me!”

“The policeman didn’t give him a ticket.”

His matter-of-fact manner made her want to scream. “They don’t give tickets for causing accidents in American Fork,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“That’s what the officer said.” Mickelle was beginning to doubt that she had done the right thing in facing Mr. Wolfe alone. He was obviously accustomed to being in charge. Why hadn’t she asked Brionney or Jesse to come along? Or even Talia?

“How much are the repairs on your car?” he asked. His fingers touched the ends of his short moustache briefly, then he rubbed his chin.

The tightness in her stomach eased. “Five hundred dollars. That’s my deductible. My uninsured motorist coverage will pay the other hundred.”

“That much, huh? My son said there was hardly any damage.” He peered over her shoulder at the Snail, barely discernible in the increasing darkness. “On the other hand, the front end of my son’s car was completely ruined.”

She wanted to say, “Good!” but she didn’t really rejoice in the boy’s loss, not when he had been so devastated about it. At the same time, she needed her car repaired. She simply didn’t have five hundred dollars—unless she borrowed it from her parents or siblings.

Fighting tears of frustration, she glared at him. “So are you going to pay or not?” She pushed back a stray piece of hair that had escaped from her comb. “He’s responsible for the accident, and I won’t give up until he takes care of the damage!”

For a long moment, Mr. Wolfe watched her. Mickelle felt uncomfortable under his stare—why was he looking at her so intently? Then, “My son says that
you
hit
him.
The police didn’t even give him a ticket. So it looks like it’s his word against yours.”

“He’s fifteen years old! And driving without a license!”

“He had a reason.”

Was that a smirk on his face? For a moment, he looked just like his namesake—a shaggy, yellow-eyed wolf who grinned at his prey before he attacked.

Fury raged through Mickelle’s heart. How could a man be so black-hearted and so completely blind? “I don’t know what your son told you,” she said tightly, “but driving without a license is against the law. No fifteen-year-old has the competence to drive without training. If he hadn’t broken the law, there wouldn’t have been an accident at all, and my car wouldn’t have been damaged.” Mickelle abruptly stopped her tirade, afraid that if she didn’t, she would burst into tears in front of this pompous, arrogant idiot!
Good-looking pompous, arrogant idiot,
her mind corrected.

Before he could reply, she added, “If you won’t take responsibility for your son’s actions, I guess I’ll see you in court.” Without another word, she turned and marched down the porch and into the rain. She didn’t look back for fear he’d see the tears and desperation in her eyes. The familiar symptoms of a panic attack washed over her, but she held her chin up, her shoulders straight as she walked, almost blindly, to the station wagon. Gratefully, she reached for the door handle, but remembered too late that the latch was broken. Feeling utterly humiliated, she went around to the passenger side and climbed over Bryan to get to her seat. She laid her head against the steering wheel, praying that her shaking would stop.

“How’d it go, Mom?” Bryan asked quietly, his voice worried.

The panic faded, and within the confines of the Snail she felt safe enough to glance up at the mansion. That awful man should be gone now, after having witnessed her complete humiliation with that mocking smirk on his face. To her surprise, he was still on the porch, staring in their direction.

In one motion, Mickelle started the Snail, thankful the rain had abated. She backed down the long drive a little faster than she would have ordinarily, barely missing their elaborate brick mailbox.
Serve them right if I knocked it down.
She was so angry that if she’d had a carton of eggs, she would have thrown them at the mansion’s windows.
Stupid, dumb, jerk of a man. I hope he falls down in a ditch and dies!

She didn’t really hope that but thinking it made her feel better. Had she been alone in the car, she might have put her head in her hands and cried.

“Well, Mom?” Jeremy stared curiously at her from the backseat.

Mickelle let her intense frustration and anger seep out of her before she replied. Her children had enough to deal with, and she wasn’t about to add to their problems.

To think she had pitied Tanner Wolfe as a child practically abandoned! Ha! He was little more than a liar. His mother was probably alive and well, sitting in a hot tub somewhere with the members of her bridge club.

Calm down,
she told herself. “Mr. Wolfe doesn’t seem to think his son is at fault,” she said evenly

Bryan’s face grew angry. “So he’s not going to pay?”

“He’ll have to. There has to be a way. I’ll take him to court if I have to.”

Jeremy’s mouth rounded in an O, but he didn’t say anything.

“You should have let me come with you,” Bryan said. “I would have taught him a thing or two!”

Mickelle smiled at his endearing display of protectiveness. “I know you would. But everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see.” Turning onto the main street, she picked up speed. “But now we have to get home and in bed. We need to be up early tomorrow.”

For once, the boys didn’t grumble. As they readied for bed, Mickelle put away the dishes she had washed after dinner. She felt so drained by her anger that it was almost too much effort to stack the plates in the cupboard. When the doorbell rang, she nearly dropped a dish onto the floor. Likely, it wouldn’t have broken on the inexpensive vinyl tile, but the near miss made her feel shaky.
Please not a panic attack,
she thought.