Authors: Rachel Ann Nunes
Rebekka sat down on the couch, near where Belle was standing. “Cool color. Hot pink. I like it. So does your arm ache?”
“A little,” Belle confessed. “If it doesn’t stop, I might not go to school.”
“I think they might survive one day without you,” Rebekka answered. “And you’re certainly ahead on your assignments, anyway.”
Belle shrugged. “It’s baby stuff.”
“How would you like to learn something really cool?” Rebekka asked, as though she had been waiting for the opening.
“What?” Belle’s voice was cautious.
Rebekka’s eyes briefly met Mickelle’s. “Mrs. Hansen and I’ve been talking, and she seems to think that you have quite a talent for the piano. So today I talked with your dad, and we thought that if you agreed, I could come over to the house a couple of times a week and we could learn a few songs together. Would you like that?”
Belle’s eyes had grown continuously wider as Rebekka had spoken. “Oh, yes! Yes! I want to a lot! Thanks, Rebekka!” Belle hugged her, wrapping her good arm around Rebekka’s neck. “I want to learn to play just like you!”
Rebekka cast Mickelle a grateful glance. “It might take some time, but I believe you really will.”
Belle smiled. “Do you want to be the second person to sign my cast?”
“I certainly do.” Rebekka signed with a green marker as Mickelle watched with more than a little envy.
“You know,” Belle said quietly, “I’ve been thinking a lot, and it’s okay with me if you and dad . . . you know, go out together.”
Rebekka glanced at Damon, flushing prettily. Damon didn’t meet her gaze, but was watching Belle, a pleased grin on his face. Mickelle felt her own smile fade as confusion entered her heart. She had wanted Belle to like Rebekka, if only for her own sake. Then why did she feel so glum now that it seemed Belle was at last accepting Rebekka?
“Well, we’d better be getting Belle some lunch,” Mickelle said into the awkward silence.
“Then we’re going to the school,” Belle added.
Before they could take a step toward the door, the receptionist reappeared in the lobby, bringing with her Jesse Hergarter, another woman, and several other men. “We came to sign the cast,” Jesse said as they converged around Belle.
“Wait!” The little girl turned to Mickelle. “I want you to sign it next. Will you?”
Mickelle felt decidedly better at Belle’s plea. “I certainly will.” With a red marker, she signed her name and drew a small heart.
“You draw good hearts,” Belle said, examining it. Then she held out her arm to the crowd. “Okay, sign it. But not too big, so the kids at school will have enough room.”
Mickelle felt eyes on her, and glanced up to see Damon looking her way. He smiled and sidled closer. “Thank you for bringing her. It meant a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Are we still on for tonight?”
“I take it that means the guy with the car is back in town?”
“Yes. He’ll be waiting with your car at the same lot as the guy with my Lexus.”
She shook her head. “What are you going to do with all those cars?”
“I don’t know, actually.” Damon grimaced. “Maybe I’ll sell the Mercedes.”
“I used it to take Belle to the doctor. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I want you to. I’m not sure how safe your Snail is.”
She smiled. “At the pace it can manage, it’s pretty safe.” He laughed with her, and Mickelle felt good. She looked again toward Belle, and found Rebekka watching them with her liquid gray eyes.
Mickelle stepped purposely away from Damon, hoping to reassure Rebekka. As likeable as Damon was, she would not stand in the other woman’s way.
* * * * *
Rebekka’s mood alternated between exhilaration and frustration. She had spent an enjoyable day with Damon and the children on Sunday—at least until Mickelle Hansen had shown up. She couldn’t feel angry at the woman, though, because she had shown the way to Belle’s heart.
Truth was, Rebekka liked what she had seen of Mickelle. What she didn’t like was the way Damon seemed to watch her every move, as he did now while Jesse and the others signed Belle’s cast. Could Damon be falling in love with Mickelle? Or were they simply friends, bonded by the fact that both had lost spouses and were raising their children alone?
Rebekka left the group in the foyer, not knowing where she fit in. She enjoyed being with Damon, and the enticing memories of their one kiss hinted that they could be compatible physically. Yet, if she did marry him, would he expect her to stay at home and be a mother to his children? She’d thought that was what she wanted, but now she was not so sure. She loved her job and the way it made her feel needed.
I could work part-time. Or he could. We would find a way.
She suspected that once she had her own baby, her feelings might change completely. Brionney was content with her role as a mother. Apparently so was her sister, Mickelle Hansen, and both women struck her as being intelligent. They were also good with children, and Belle certainly enjoyed their company—especially Mickelle’s.
Belle asked me to sign her cast before Mickelle.
Rebekka felt petty even as the thought came. Ultimately, she wanted Belle’s happiness more than she craved the child’s approval.
The phone rang as she approached her work station, situated in one of the small cubicles portioned off from the rest of the conference room. The cubicles, erected during Samuel’s second visit, had stayed for the new employees that were being hired. Soon Hospitals’ Choice would need to move to a larger building.
Rebekka grabbed the receiver. “Hello?” she knew her voice was grumpy, but she didn’t care.
“Hello, Rebekka with two Ks. Did I call at a bad time?”
“Samuel.” The pleasure at hearing his voice blocked out all her former frustration. “It’s good to hear from you. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I mean, our part over here is doing well—although it would go better if you were here—and I really don’t have any reason to call except that . . . you’ve been on my mind. I miss you.”
She could hear the sincerity and the longing in his voice. At this moment, she could imagine his green eyes half closed, watching, waiting hopefully for her reaction.
“I miss you, too.” She did, more than she cared to admit.
“So, have you given any thought to my offer?”
She hesitated. “Yes. It’s very tempting. But I still don’t know yet.” She made her voice light. “Hey, I told you I’d tell you this week. I didn’t say which day.”
“If I call you every day, do you think it’ll help?”
“It might.” Just hearing his voice made her happy.
“Well, then, I’ll be calling. I also promise that if you come, I won’t make you eat five-way chili—at least not every day.”
She laughed. “That’s a load off my mind.” She was rewarded for the comment by his warm chuckle. It did strange things to her heart.
They talked for a few moments more about inconsequential matters, and when Rebekka hung up the phone, she was smiling.
* * * * *
Mickelle glanced down at her casual dress that flowed to her sandaled feet. She knew the blue color matched her eyes, and hoped Damon would notice it as he had the red shirt earlier. He would be here any moment now.
Something on her leg caught her eye and Mickelle looked closer, appalled to see that she hadn’t remembered to shave her legs for at least a month, probably more. In the long dress no one should notice, but what if someone—okay, Damon—did? Maybe he already had.
Quickly, Mickelle retrieved her razor and a can of shaving cream from the windowsill in the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she turned on the water. A second later, she was soaked.
“Rats!” She had forgotten to check to see if the lever that made the water go to the showerhead was up. Bryan always left it that way. Now her hair was wet, and all the curl from the steam rollers gone!
She groaned and towel-dried her head quickly. Her hair wasn’t as wet as she had feared, though she’d have to blow it dry. And what about her legs? Leaving her hair, she returned to the tub and, carefully pooling the skirt of her dress in her lap, she wet her legs from the knees down and lathered them. She began shaving, one long stroke after the next as the scent of the lime shaving cream blended with the steamy water.
At once she was transported back in time. Riley was shaving, and she watched him in the doorway, breathing in the smell of the shaving cream and watching him squint into the steam-covered mirror. Riley looked up and saw her. Throwing his razor into the sink, he wiped off the last of the cream and came toward her. He took her in his arms, kissed her . . .
Tears sprang to Mickelle’s eyes, but they weren’t tears of pain or anger, but of tenderness. Oh, how she needed those memories to remind her that her relationship with Riley hadn’t been so terrible! There had been many moments when they had honestly loved each other. Though Mickelle had been too consumed by bitterness these last few months to admit it, Brionney had been right after all—parts of her marriage were well worth repeating.
She finished the last strokes and rinsed her legs. In the drawer, she found a tube of lotion and rubbed it into her skin. Now to fix the hair before Damon arrived. As if reading her thoughts, Belle and Jeremy, who had been waiting on the front porch, came inside. “Mom! He’s here!”
Mickelle groaned at the sight of her wet hair. She raked through it with her fingers, trying to maintain a few of the curls that had survived underneath. Finally, throwing herself a disgusted look in the mirror, she left the bathroom and went to the door. Damon was just entering the house.
“Did you take a shower, Mom?” Jeremy asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
Mickelle glanced at Damon and then away. “No, I just had an accident with the water. Now, why don’t you kids go out in the backyard and let Bryan and Tanner know we’re leaving? They’re playing soccer.”
“But I’m hungry, Mom,” Jeremy complained. “We didn’t have dinner yet.” He looked hopefully at Damon. “After we see the car, could we go and get hamburgers again . . . and ice cream? And could we play basketball again? Please?” He said the words calmly, but Mickelle recognized the need in his eyes. It cut into her deeply. She had to remember to take him more often to see their grandfather.
“I bought ice cream already,” she said. “Belle and I did before we took her to school.”
Belle tugged on her father. “We got chocolate. Then I went to school the rest of the day, and my arm didn’t hurt one little bit.”
Damon looked properly impressed. He put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “We’d better watch out when she gets that cast off. She’ll beat both of us at basketball. So we should probably practice a bit tonight, if your mom doesn’t mind. I’ve got a spare T-shirt in my car.”
“Yay!” Jeremy shouted. Without waiting for Mickelle’s response, he ran into the kitchen, heading for the side door. Belle went with him.
Mickelle blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes. “You shouldn’t encourage him,” she said, keeping her voice light. “He’ll make you play every day.”
“What’s so wrong with that?” Damon said with a laugh. “I work ten to twelve hours a day, with little exercise. Jeremy just might save me from a heart attack.”
“He hasn’t wet his bed since last Friday.”
Damon looked confused.
Mickelle explained. “He’s been doing it since Riley . . . since before his dad died. And now he’s stopped.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. I think it’s because of you.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” His words were sincere.
“Yes.” More tears threatened, and Mickelle walked into the kitchen and pretended to look out the window. Why had she felt the need to confide in him?
Damon followed her. “Hey, I brought you something.”
Before facing him, she ran her fingertips rapidly under her eyes to make sure they were dry. “What’s this?” she asked, taking a small package wrapped in white tissue.
“Just something I picked up at mall. I went there to grab a quick bite for lunch.”
Mickelle could think of many faster and quieter places to eat, but she was too curious to ask further questions. She tore off the tissue to reveal a dark pair of thick wool socks. “You bought me a pair of socks?” she asked incredulously.
He shrugged. “Well, winter’s coming, and I didn’t think you’d need the free air conditioning anymore. I would have gotten some of those long nylon things, but there were just too many kinds and sizes. I don’t know how women ever find what they need.”
The picture of Damon shopping for women’s socks was too much to bear, and she began to laugh. “Thank you,” she sputtered through her mirth.
“You’re welcome.” He grinned with her, and she caught sight of his gold tooth, glinting like his amber eyes. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”
How easy it would be to fall in love with him!
Neither spoke for a long moment, though Mickelle’s thoughts raced wildly with no sense of purpose. She could never remember feeling so vitally alive.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
In confusion, she put her hand to her damp hair. “Do you mind if I take a moment . . . I don’t know why, but you always seem to come when I’m working in the garden or playing soccer or . . .”
“Having accidents with water,” he suggested helpfully.
“Yes.” She couldn’t tear her eyes from his.
“I’ll round up the kids and put them in the car. Take your time.” He started for the kitchen door.
“Uh, Damon . . .”
“Yes?”
She held up the socks. “I love them. Thank you.”
He grinned and went out the door.
Mickelle hurried to the bathroom and dried her hair, using a round brush to form a few loose curls. “Not too bad,” she said, surveying the repairs. She added a touch of lipstick.
Jeremy and Belle had to share a seat belt on the way, but neither minded the arrangement. With Tanner and Bryan leading the conversation in the backseat, the children more than filled the car with sound. Mickelle was comfortable to sit in silence.
The Geo Metro at the dealer’s was exactly what Mickelle needed. “The blue matches your eyes, Kelle,” Damon said. “Like your dress.”