This Time Forever (35 page)

His eyes fell on a journal near his monitor, where he had set it the previous night after writing to Rebekka. Since his teen years, he had written in the journal religiously . . . well, at least once a month, although since Rebekka had left, he seemed to be writing more.

He looked at the last line of what he had written the previous evening:

Wonder what Rebekka’s doing. If she were home, I’d call her and see.

Nothing odd there. After all, he
had
just been writing to her. Naturally, she would have been on his mind. It wasn’t as if he wrote about her all the time.

The week before, he had written:

I remember when Rebekka and I used to go down to the river during lunch breaks.

Rebekka again?

He began thumbing through the pages more rapidly. On every page there was mention of Rebekka—in fact, she was in almost every paragraph. Snatches of text came to him seemingly all at once:
Rebekka would have laughed at this . . . Rebekka used to say . . . loved to listen to her play . . . she could set Raoul straight . . . the way her eyes seem to stare straight into my soul . . . skating was always an adventure with Rebekka . . . hated me calling her a pest, but it was just a joke . . . odd not having her at church . . . that if my kidney was going bad, I’d die and not be able to tell her goodbye . . . I miss her . . . talk me out of this weird mood I’m in . . . her laugh . . . those gorgeous gray eyes . . . probably marry and have a dozen kids . . . she’d make a beautiful bride . . . I miss her . . .

He stopped reading and put his head in his hands. For all his strange American ways, it appeared that his brother-in-law Zack was right. Even though Marc would never admit it to him or to his wife, Josette, the answer to Marc’s malaise was indeed in his journal. His twin sister would laugh him out of the country if she knew.

Knew what? That he cared about Rebekka? That he was completely and utterly obsessed with her?

Josette’s laughter would be heard all the way to America.

To America . . . where Rebekka was falling in love with her boss. As she had every right to do. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy.

He snapped his fingers.
That’s it!
Maybe it was time he checked this guy out. He had a right, didn’t he? As Rebekka’s friend.

Friend?

Could she ever possibly see him as anything else?

An idea came swiftly, as though it had been lurking in a far corner of his mind, waiting for the slightest attention. He had a passport and a visa ready for the engineering convention he and André planned to attend next month in New York. What was to stop him from going earlier? And taking a detour to Utah?

Yes!
He would find a plane to America if it was the last thing he did. Marc bolted from his chair and ran to the phone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Damon spent a rough night with Belle. He read her stories until she fell asleep, and then lay near her, listening to her soft breaths. She awoke often, and he held her while she moaned at the throbbing in her arm. He gave her medicine to ease the pain. The doctor had said she would feel better after the first night, and the arm shouldn’t hurt at all once the real cast was on, as the bone would be immobile.

He had a lot of time to think, but instead of solving business problems or contemplating his children, he let his thoughts stray to Mickelle. She was a beautiful woman, and he was very much attracted to her. His admiration for her seemed to increase each time he saw her.

Having lost his own wife, Damon knew how much effort it took to cope with even the smallest everyday things. Sometimes he still felt very much alone. He missed Charlotte terribly, but worse, he found it hard to remember a time when she had not been sick. Their early years together had now faded into a dreamlike quality, and if not for the children, which were proof of their intimacy, he thought he might have only imagined that part of their life.

Mickelle would understand,
he thought.

At last he dozed, only to be awakened as daylight came into the room. Belle was still sleeping, less restlessly now, and Damon felt he could leave her.

Despite the lack of sleep, Damon didn’t feel tired. He went down to the garage and found Tanner already there, working on Mickelle’s station wagon.

“Hi, Dad. I’ve almost got it done.”

Damon surveyed the work. The bent fender had been straightened, sanded, patched with car putty, sanded again, primed, and then spray-painted. While it wasn’t a professional job, it looked considerably better than the rest of the car.

“The door was the biggest problem,” Tanner said. “You think she’ll mind this little folded-over part?” He ran his finger over the place where the edge of the door met the fender. “There was nothing I could do about that without replacing the whole fender. But with the little bend and the new handle, she can open the door just fine. Watch.” Tanner demonstrated.

“That’s really great!” Damon had supervised Tanner for a few nights, but the boy had done most of the work on his own. “I’m really proud of the way you dug right in and got this done. I am very impressed.”

“Can we take her for a ride?” Tanner asked. “I’m still a little worried it’ll scrape against the wheel. I mean, I know we drove it up and down the driveway to test it, but that’s not the same thing as going around the block.”

“All right, let’s do it. But I’ll have to see if Rebekka’s up to watching Belle for a minute.”

“She’s up. We ate breakfast together. Last I saw, she was heading for her room.”

Damon used the intercom to ask Rebekka to listen for Belle. “I’ll go peek in on her, too,” she offered. Damon smiled at the answer. Despite Belle’s aversion to her, Rebekka obviously cared about both of his children. Eventually she might make a good mother—although, after seeing her expertise at the office, he had a hard time imagining her staying at home with children.

Damon and Tanner drove around the block in the old station wagon. The Snail was ugly, but everything seemed to work. Back in the driveway, he helped Tanner wash the car, and that was when he discovered the windshield wipers were in far less than working condition.

“We’d better check the blinkers and the headlights, too,” he told Tanner. He expected the boy to protest, to say that he hadn’t caused that damage, but Tanner seemed to be happy about making sure the whole car was in good shape.

“Is this like going the extra mile?” Tanner asked.

Damon wished he had brought up the analogy himself. “Exactly.”

They found one blinker light burned out, but a quick trip to the auto parts store remedied that. The wipers turned out to be more difficult, as Damon broke the plastic while trying to replace the rubber part and had to return to the store for the complete assembly.

“I don’t think you were doing it right,” Tanner said.

Damon laughed. “Probably not. I haven’t changed my own wiper blades since I was a little older than you are.”

With his hands on his hips, Tanner looked over the car. “I guess it’s done. We can take it back now.”

“We’d better call first.” He put his arm around Tanner’s shoulder. “There’s one thing you need to remember about women, Tan. Always give them plenty of time before you come over.”

Tanner’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“They like to be prepared. Something about makeup.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“I’m glad it makes sense to you, because when you’re my age, little about women does.”

Tanner chuckled uncertainly. “Rebekka seems to like you. Are you going to marry her?”

“Would that bother you?”

Tanner shrugged uncomfortably. “She’s not really the mom type. I mean, she’s so young. Practically my age.”

Damon thought it prudent to change the subject. “What would you think about staying at Mrs. Hansen’s every day after school? Just until I’m done with work?”

“What about Rebekka?”

“She’ll be staying with Jess and Bri, though we’ll see her as much as we want. I know you’re too old for a baby-sitter, but I don’t like the idea of you here all by yourself, and Belle needs some womanly influence instead of being with us all the time, don’t you think? She’ll feel more comfortable with Mrs. Hansen if you’re there, too. At least at first. Could you humor me for a while and hang out there until I get home from work? Once you’re driving, you could come down to the office instead, maybe earn some money, if it doesn’t interfere with your schoolwork.”

Tanner scratched at a dab of dried paint on his arm. “Sure, I won’t mind. Mrs. Hansen’s a cool lady. But how will I get there? The bus from my high school doesn’t go to American Fork.”

“She’ll pick you up.”

Tanner’s face blanched. “In that?” He thumbed at the Snail.

Damon stifled his amusement. “I thought it’d be important for her to have another car—you know, for when this one cuts out on her. So I found her a little Geo Metro.”

Relief showed clearly on his son’s face. “Good idea. I think you just saved my social life.”

“Like I said, it’s only until you get your license. I don’t know how long that will take. Remember, we have to see the juvenile court judge next week. Maybe when I tell him what you’ve done here, he’ll go more lightly.”

Tanner frowned. “I wish it had never happened.”

“Yeah . . . but then I wouldn’t have found Belle a sitter.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Hansen.”

“She’s a nice lady.”

“Yeah. I think so, too.”

* * * * *

Mickelle worked in her garden Saturday morning, noting that the pumpkins were shaping up nicely. Next month they would carve wonderful jack-o’-lanterns and have pumpkin cookies with rich chocolate chips. The memories of past Halloweens were so vivid that she could almost feel the pulp of the pumpkin oozing between her fingers, and the hard feel of the thin seeds.

Of course, Riley wouldn’t be there to help carve the pumpkins, but he wouldn’t be around to disapprove of their annual seed fight, either.

Mickelle sighed. She missed Riley, the good with the bad. Eventually, they would have worked things out. He might even have learned to enjoy the sticky seed fights in the backyard.

Purposefully, she turned her mind to other topics. Her date with Jim last night had gone well. He’d taken her to Wallaby’s in Lindon, and they were soon chatting like old friends. He was comfortable to be with, and she had found herself laughing. The only awkward moment was when he had brought her home. She hoped he wouldn’t try to kiss her; she wasn’t ready for that, though there was a part of her that longed to be kissed and to feel like an attractive woman again. When he didn’t try, she was relieved.

We’re just friends.

That morning Jim had called, surprising her. “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed being with you last night.”

“It was fun.”

“I’d like to go out with you again.”

“All right,” she agreed readily.

“I’m not sure of my schedule next week, but I’ll call, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

Perhaps there could be more between them than friendship, she mused, tugging at a tender weed. He was at least six years her junior, but that didn’t mean anything in this day and age. He was a good listener; in fact, she had probably talked more than she should have, but he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. He didn’t know the first thing about children, but he could learn. She was almost positive he would never degrade them or her. Jim was also attractive in a boyish sort of way . . . nothing like Damon’s strong magnetism. But that direction of thought was dangerous. She’d loved a man once with her whole heart, and if she ever decided to have another relationship, she didn’t want the love to control her.

Her disturbing thoughts stopped as Jeremy came running from the side of the house. “Mom, Mom! The Snail’s back! Belle came too, and Tanner. Can I play DS so he can help me get a Mew? I finished my chores.”

“Even under the bed and inside the closet?” Mickelle straightened and brushed her hands together to remove the dirt.

His face fell. “I’ll go check.”

“It won’t take you more than two minutes. But what about your bed? Did you take the sheets downstairs—and the blanket if it got wet?” She had been trying to make him take responsibility for his nightly accidents, hoping the inconvenience would cure him of wetting the bed, or at least give her some reprieve.

“It’s not wet.”

“The blanket?”

“None of it.” He glanced over his shoulder to be sure no one heard. “I didn’t wet.”

“That’s wonderful, Jeremy! I’m so glad!”

He beamed with pleasure. “So after I check the closet, can I play?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Mom!” He tore around to the side door as Damon came into the backyard. Mickelle thought he looked particularly handsome in new jeans and a blue T-shirt. His shoulders appeared broader and his face more relaxed.

He smiled. “Good morning.”

“I thought you were going to call,” she said, feeling frumpy in Riley’s huge black T-shirt and her worn gray jeans, cut off at the knees. Her feet were bare and dirty, and she wore no makeup.

“We did. Jeremy said you were outside, and that we should come on over.”

“Oh. He didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.” He stood watching her for a full minute without speaking. Mickelle began to feel more uncomfortable. Why was he studying her so carefully? Did she have dirt on her face again? If only he weren’t so good-looking!

“Would you like to see the car?” he asked.

“Sure.”

They walked to the driveway, and Mickelle studied the Snail. “Looks wonderful.” She opened the door. “Nice.”

“Tan practically did the whole thing himself.” For a moment, Damon was the perfect picture of a proud father. He leaned conspiratorially toward Mickelle. “In fact, I’ve been a little worried about you getting the new car, because I didn’t want Tan to feel he’d done it all for nothing.”