This Time Forever (15 page)

Suddenly, Rebekka’s own problems came into perspective. “That’s so sad. Is there anything we can do?”

Brionney shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Try to set her up with Damon if you think it’ll do any good. Not that he’ll agree if her name isn’t Belle or work. You’ll have to hit him over the head with it. You know, sometimes he reminds me of Marc.” At the mention of the name, Rebekka’s heart tightened and tears pricked behind her eyes. She took a deep breath.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Brionney said softly. “Marc’s the real reason you aren’t going after Damon. You still miss him.”

Clenching her jaw, Rebekka nodded slowly. “Terribly. He e-mails me all the time, but I haven’t talked to him in person. It hurts too much.” She looked pleadingly at Brionney. “Why do I have to love him? Why did I fall for a man who sees me as a child?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did. At least you’re doing something about it. There are other fish in the sea.”

Rebekka snorted. “First Marc and now Damon.”

“What?” Brionney leaned forward.

Rebekka stood. “Nothing. I guess I’ll be getting back. I always receive an e-mail from my brother on Thursdays. I think he’ll have news for me. He’s been ready to propose to his girlfriend for months, but her parents are upset because he wants her to be baptized first.”

“Sounds like a mess.”

“It is.”
But at least they’re both in love.

Brionney walked with her to the door. “You want to do something on Saturday? Jesse promised me he’d spend some time with the kids so I could get out.”

“Well, I’m not working. A neighbor girl watches Belle on Saturdays if Damon has to work. But I don’t know. I’ll give you a call, okay?”

She left Brionney and drove back to Damon’s in the bronze four-door Nissan Altima GLE she had purchased upon arriving in Utah. The lights were out in Belle’s room, though it was only eight, and Damon and Tanner were nowhere in sight. The house felt too large and empty.

Rebekka went to her room, where she’d set up her laptop on a new desk Damon had purchased for her. She checked her e-mail, and found one from her brother and three more from other friends. None from Marc.

She read the e-mail from Raoul.

Dear Rebekka,

I miss you. I wish you were here to share this wonderful, incredible, unequalled night of all nights to be remembered forever. Desirée has agreed to marry me! My feet hardly touch the ground, I’m so happy. So ecstatically and completely happy. There has never been a man more happy than I on the whole entire earth!

She can’t be baptized until she’s away from her parents, so I’m not pushing it. But she promises she will go into the waters of baptism after we are wed. I’m willing to wait if that is what it takes.

You will come back to France for my wedding, won’t you? It won’t be until the spring. I hate the idea of a long engagement, but will endure it if doing so makes my future in-laws happy.

I know you will be happy for me. I only wish that you also could find someone who is worthy of your affections.

Your loving brother,

Raoul

Rebekka felt a mixture of gladness and melancholy. She typed a quick response.

Raoul, I am so happy for you. I hope all your dreams come true. I will most certainly come for the wedding. I would not give up hope of her being baptized first, however. It could be more difficult for you and for her later.

Here, things are the same. The little minx still hates me and her brother the opposite. I haven’t seen much of the father, though I am working myself up to asking him to dinner or something. I am attracted to him quite a bit.

I’m going to look for another job, I think. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I miss translating. Or perhaps I’ll teach.

I love you,

Rebekka

She clicked on the send and receive button, knowing her brother would get the e-mail when he awoke, since it was the middle of the night for him. To her surprise, another e-mail came in, this one from Marc. What was he doing writing to her when he should be asleep?

Her heart began a familiar erratic pounding. Rebekka had two separate impulses, as she always did when seeing his name in her e-mail inbox. She wanted to delete it immediately to spare herself further pain, and she wanted to devour it with her eyes while she imagined his face and his touch. Each communication with him was bittersweet.

Sighing, she clicked on the message.

Hi, Rebekka. How are you? Are you ready to come home yet? Everything is pretty much the same here. The bridge is nearly finished and we’re on to another project.

For some reason I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to write to you. You’re probably not home but out having fun. Raoul told me you date a lot. I haven’t been dating, but that’s nothing new. I guess I’m tired of trying to find someone who lives up to my ideals.

“You mean someone who lives up to your vision of my mother,” she said uncharitably. She was grateful Raoul had told him she was dating, even though it wasn’t true.

Anyway, I feel at a strange point in my life. I wish you were here to talk to about it. I don’t know what direction to go. It’s like I’m lost, you know? I feel stupid saying this to you, because you have always known what you want and haven’t let anything stand in your way. I’ve always admired that in you. I don’t like to admit it, but sometimes I feel like I go with the flow too much. That I let other people determine my destiny, so to speak.

I guess that’s because I don’t know what I want. My problem is nothing so serious as doubting the truthfulness of the gospel—I know it’s true—but more a doubting that I’ve done any good in the universe. My company designs and builds safe bridges, roads, and even buildings, but does anyone really care? Someone else could build them just as well. I make a lot of money, but I have no one to spend it on.

I would laugh at myself and these notions if you were here. Think of how we used to go skating down by the river—could you imagine us doing it now? People would stare at us, two adults acting like children. But you wouldn’t care, and neither would I if we did it together.

When are you coming home? At least you’re not going to marry some American and stay there forever. We’ve agreed how hard that’s been for Zack and Josette. You’ve got your head on straight—which is more than I can say for myself. Rebekka, what should I be when I grow up?

Don’t laugh too much at me when you read this, though I know it’s funny. Sometimes I feel closer to you when I can write this way. But I still wish you were here.

Take care,

Marc

Rebekka didn’t know what to say to this. Apparently, Marc was doing some soul-searching. It was what she had always wanted. But wasn’t it too late for them?

Yes, of course it was too late. Because no matter how he changed, he didn’t love her. At once, uncontrollable hurt and anger consumed her. She typed a response, wanting to hurt him as his blindness had hurt her.

Hello Marc,

I, too, am at a changing point in my life, so I understand what you are going through to some extent. I’ve discovered that Americans aren’t half bad. My boss is very nice. Very nice, if you get the idea. I think I wouldn’t mind staying here forever.

Then guilt at her deception provoked a
sliver of compassion.

I think you need to decide what you want in life, Marc, and go for it with your whole heart. Only you can make things happen. At the end of your life, you don’t want to look back with regrets. Time shouldn’t be wasted.

Love,

Rebekka

She didn’t send the message, not wanting to seem eager. She could do that later tonight, or when she checked her mail in the morning.
He can wait. Like I’ve been doing for nineteen years.

Feeling restless, Rebekka made her way down the sweeping front staircase that led into the two-story entryway outside the sitting room. Adjoining the sitting room was the music room, where a full-sized concert grand piano stood like a silent friend. Neither Damon nor his children played the piano, and in her first weeks with the family, she had wondered at their owning such an exquisite piece. She had quickly overcome her awe, and now practiced daily as she had on her baby grand at home.

She ran her fingers lightly over the keys. The piano was a handmade Steinway, with dark wood and intricate inlays, and a sound so rich and pure that tears came to her eyes each time she played. She thought that if she’d owned such a fine piece while growing up, she might never have studied anything other than music.

Compelled, she propped opened the large lid and sat on the padded mahogany bench. She began to play from memory, using the soft pedal to be sure she didn’t awaken anyone. First she played a little Bach, followed by Mozart, and then something more personal—a simple melody she’d composed for Marc six years ago, meant for their wedding day. It didn’t have words, but her heart soared as she played, feeling her love as she had on the day she’d first written it.

He had never heard it. He never would.

She stopped playing abruptly, hitting a stray key that sounded awkward and discordant in comparison to the rest of the music.

“Don’t stop,” a gentle voice protested.

Rebekka’s head jerked around. “Damon!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d notice my being here. I didn’t want to interrupt. It was beautiful.”

“Did I wake you?” she returned anxiously. “I didn’t mean to.”

He approached, smiling. “Oh, no. I hadn’t gone to bed yet, and besides, you were playing so softly that I wouldn’t have been able to hear in my room. How do you do that, anyway?”

“This pedal.” Rebekka showed him.

“Ah. The mystery solved.”

She wondered that he could know so little of the piano. “Do you play at all?”

“No.” But he sat on the bench beside her. “Actually, I can play ‘Chopsticks.’” He played the notes slowly, missing occasionally, and then stopped and looked at her sheepishly.

She laughed, feeling comfortable and more than a little tingly at his closeness. “There’s more, you know.” She played it for him, adding several variations to make it more interesting, and glancing up occasionally to see his expression. His eyes were wide with surprise, and the yellow light from the overhead chandelier made them look more amber than usual.

“I didn’t know ‘Chopsticks’ could sound like that,” he said when she finished. “You have quite a talent.”

“A hobby,” she corrected. “What I’m really good at is languages.”

“I can believe that.” He clicked his tongue. “What I can’t believe is that with so much talent you agreed to stay with my children.”

“I needed to get away. You pay well. And your children are basically very good.”

The rugged, angular lines of his face increased as he grimaced slightly. “I’m sorry about how Belle’s been acting. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

She sighed, still keenly aware of his closeness. “I see her attitude toward me hasn’t escaped you.”

“I guess I’m pretty observant when it comes to my children—usually, anyway. Don’t feel too bad. I think she’ll come out of it.”

“Have you had any luck finding a replacement for me?” She felt odd saying it, and hurried to add, “I mean, I’m not anxious to leave or anything. I really do like it here. But I won’t be able to stay forever.”

He gave her an apologetic grin. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t even begun looking. I meant to take out an ad or something, but I’ve been working on finding another software company to help us spread our business to other countries. We thought we might try it ourselves, but if I could buy or make a deal with another company who already has a foot in the door, it might be easier and we could grow . . . But you don’t want to hear about that.”

“It’s interesting,” Rebekka said eagerly. She turned slightly on the bench, and her knee accidentally brushed his. He didn’t move away.

“Well, we need to find just the right company. One that has a strong background and reputation so there’s a measure of trust involved in hospital software.” Damon spread his fingers, moving his hands over the piano keys as though searching. “That takes time.”

“I see what you—” Rebekka abruptly remembered the plane trip from France. She snapped her fingers. “Hey, I may know someone who can help you. I met him on the plane on the way over. Samuel something. I have his card in my room. He owns a software company and does business overseas. He practically offered me a job in translating.”

“You’re not bailing out on me, are you?” The way he said it, she knew he was joking.

She laughed. “Yes, eventually. So you’d better find a replacement. But don’t worry, I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.”
Even if Belle hates me.

“I’d love to talk to this guy,” Damon said, standing. “If he made an impression on you, he must be something.”

Rebekka flushed as she gazed up at him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one.”

She studied his face, trying to see if there was something behind the words, but she saw only honesty and friendship.
As though I’m his little sister,
she thought. She knew the look only too well.
What’s wrong with me, that the men I’m attracted to can’t see me as a woman?

She ran her hands once more over the piano keys before she shut the keyboard lid and rose from the bench.