Better Not Cry (Rebekka Franck Book 8)

by Willow Rose

  "What happened?" Tobias asked.

  Julie had given up and was sitting with her headphones on, listening to music from her phone. William had fallen asleep. He had managed to rip several magazines to pieces and drizzled the pieces all over the waiting room area without Tobias and Julie even noticing it until it was too late. The lady behind the counter had shot me a look when we finally came back out, but I had given her one back that had made hers fade in comparison.

  I looked in the rearview mirror at Tobias.

  "Didn't he want to treat my dad?" he continued.

  I didn't know how to answer that. I mean, how much did the boy need to know? He was, after all, just that, only a boy. A young boy with hopes and dreams of one day getting his father back.

  "He said not now. Maybe later," I answered, then looked briefly at Sune, who hadn't uttered a word since the visit at the doctor's office. He was looking out the window at the scenery as we drove across the bridge and back to the barrier island.

  "So, what do we do now?" Tobias asked, his voice cracking. I could hardly bear it. Sune still didn't react, so I guessed it was up to me to calm the poor boy down.

  "Now, I say we get some lunch," I said and looked at the clock in the car. It was almost three o'clock. No wonder I was starving. The kids had to be too. I spotted the golden M in the distance.

  "How about some Mac D?"

  "Ew." Julie took out her headphones. "McDonald's is like the grossest thing in the world. You know they fill those burgers with so many preservatives that they never get old, right? I saw this Vine about a guy who had saved his burger for two years and it didn't grow any mold at all."

  I sighed. I wasn't a big fan of fast food myself, but in this particular situation, we just needed an easy solution.

  "Okay then," I said. "What do you suggest?"

  "There was a nice little café on the corner downtown when we're almost at the house. It was called something with juice or something."

  "I hardly think Sune is in the mood to sit and eat at a café," I said. "Can't you find something else?"

  "Why does everything have to be about him all the time?" Julie asked.

  "JULIE!"

  She paused with a sigh. She knew she had overstepped a line. "I'm just sayin'," she added.

  "Julie. I don't want to hear another word from you right now, or there will be no more computer for the rest of this trip, do you read me?"

  Finally, Sune reacted. He held his hand up in the air. "I think it sounds like a great idea. I could do with a good sandwich right about now."

  I looked at him, startled. I thought he’d be too devastated to do anything…maybe even for the rest of the trip. This was a good sign, and I immediately turned into the café's parking lot.

  Juice 'N Java, the sign said, and just like the day we had arrived, it seemed to be packed with people.

  20

  We ordered and sat down outside, even though it was very hot. I had a sandwich with goat cheese and portabella mushroom, and it was quite good, to my surprise. I hadn't expected much food-wise when traveling to the States, but I guess we got lucky.

  The kids had sandwiches and smoothies and Sune and I each had pumpkin lattes.

  The place was crowded with people, even though it was situated directly out to A1A, the main road going through town along the beach.

  In the middle of eating my sandwich, William knocked over his cup and spilled soda all over the table.

  "William!" Julie shrieked and moved away, but not fast enough for her shirt to not get wet. She wailed in anger. "Now I’m soaked!"

  "I'll get some napkins," I said and got up, thinking that would be the end of the peace. It was nice while it lasted. I almost made it through my entire sandwich.

  Inside, I ran into the detective that I had met the day before. He smiled handsomely and I blushed.

  Why am I blushing?

  "Hello there," he said. He had a sandwich in his hands, wrapped to go.

  "Late lunch?" I said.

  He nodded. "Been a long day. How about you?"

  I sighed. "You don't want to know. How's the case?"

  "What case is that?"

  "About the boy? From the chimney?" I felt terrible talking about it like it was an everyday thing. "Any news?"

  He shrugged. "There really isn't much to it, other than what you saw."

  I nodded, a little embarrassed. I was only trying to make conversation. "Of course not. It was an accident. The boy was excited to see Santa and probably crawled up there because he thought he might be there."

  "That's what I figure. Don't see any reason to think otherwise."

  "Terrible story, though."

  He sipped his coffee. "Sure is," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He nodded toward the door. I spotted the police station's sign on the building across the street.

  "You work right over there, huh? That's convenient. Bet you come here every day, then."

  He smiled. Our eyes met. Boy, he was handsome. "Pretty much," he said and walked away. "Pretty much."

  As he opened the door, I was pulled back to reality, when I heard Julie yell—no, make that scream—at William. I hurried to grab a stack of napkins then rushed back outside and handed them to her.

  "My shirt is ruined, Mom. Completely ruined. I am never wearing this again. Never."

  "Okay," I said, still watching the detective as he crossed the street. When he disappeared into the old building that also housed city hall, I turned and looked at them with a soft sigh.

  "How about we go home now, huh? We can still get a couple of hours in at the pool."

  Tobias and William both squealed with excitement.

  Part II

  21

  Eight-year-old Kristin Walker loved singing more than anything else in this world. Even more than cookies and ice cream, even though they did come in at second place. There was only one other thing Kristin loved about Christmas almost as much as singing carols, and that was eating all the delicious Christmas candy and cookies.

  Her mother, Patricia, had long tried to get her to lose weight, but Kristin just loved food so darn much; she couldn't stop once she started. And so it was this evening on December 3rd that she found herself in the kitchen, grabbing one of the freshly baked cookies her mother had just pulled out of the oven.

  First, she grabbed one with her right hand, then another with her left.

  One for each hand, like her grandfather had always said. He didn't say it anymore, though, because now he had gone up to be with God, her mother said. But Kristin had missed him so terribly when he went and had asked her mother why God wanted grandpop so badly when he had so many others he could hang out with, whereas Kristin only had one grandpop.

  Her mother said she didn't have an answer for that.

  "Kristin!"

  Her mother had entered the kitchen and looked at the cookie sheet. "Did you eat any of the cookies?"

  Still chewing, Kristin shook her head, hiding the other cookie behind her back. Her mother didn't believe her and wiped a crumb away from her lip with a loud tsk while shaking her head.

  "How am I supposed to get you to fit into that dress for aunt Tina's wedding this spring, huh? She really wants you to be a flower girl, but only if you can fit into the dress," she said.

  Kristin licked her lips and got ahold of another crumb. Then, she shrugged. Her mother held out her hand.

  "Hand it over, Kristin."

  Kristin sighed, then handed her the cookie that was mostly crumbs by now. Her mother took it all and threw the delicious cookie out, then wiped her daughter's face with a napkin and corrected the bow on her dress.

  "Now, there, you look pretty. Now, remember, don't eat the cookies, all right? They’re for tonight, to hand out to people while we sing for them."

  Going around town caroling was a tradition that was repeated every year. One her mother had started. Kristin used to love it so much since everyone always told her how stunning her voice was, but last year
hadn't been so much fun. Since she had gained so much weight, people stared at her, their faces making grimaces, some unable to even recognize her. They no longer focused on the singing, but on her size, and that bothered her. She wasn't looking forward to them doing it again this year.

  "All right, now remember, we start out with Silent Night and we finish up with your solo of Ave Maria. Oh, it's a really good program this year. I can't wait to get out there and spread some holiday joy into people's homes. They sure need it these days, with all the stress and rushing going on. People are so busy; they need us to remind them to slow down and enjoy Christmas. It's a gift, Kristin, to be able to do that. One you should not look upon lightly, you hear me?"

  Kristin nodded, her eyes only on the remaining cookies. She thought about two days ago when she had gone to the mall to sit on Santa's lap and he had grunted, strained by her weight.

  Kristin loved Santa; even though some of her friends told her he wasn't real, she still believed he was. She knew perfectly well that the guy at the mall wasn't him, of course she did, but the real Santa was there, bringing presents to children. She knew he was. And she so hoped she would get to see him this year.

  22

  Sune hid in the bedroom for the rest of the afternoon. Meanwhile, I hung out with the kids in the pool, wondering what he was doing in there all alone while the kids and I, for once, were having a great time. Even Julie finally got over herself and got in and now she was splashing around with her siblings like they had never been fonder of one another.

  I realized I was never going to understand those kids and figure them out. And maybe I didn't have to. Maybe it was enough to simply enjoy the good moments we did have and not worry about when the next fight or outburst would end up ruining everything.

  Still, I couldn't stop thinking about Sune, and finally, after swimming with the kids for about an hour, I grabbed my towel and walked into the bedroom. Sune was sitting by the window, staring out at the ocean.

  "Hey," I said. "What are you doing?"

  "I told you to leave me alone," he said.

  I dried my hair, wondering what to do, then approached him. "Sune. You can't shut me out like that. I know today was devastating but…are we never going to talk about what the doctor said?"

  He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. "Didn't you think I could see you?"

  I froze. "What do you mean?"

  "With that guy. The policeman. Don't you think I saw you?"

  "I…I…I don't know. It was just the detective from the accident yesterday morning. I was just asking if there was any news."

  "You blushed. Your eyes avoided his in that cute way that I always found endearing. I saw it, Rebekka. I saw all of it."

  "I…I…"

  "It's all right," he said. "I know I’ve been acting awful lately. I know it can't be much fun to be with someone like me. I understand that you have needs too. Needs that I can't fulfill."

  Oh, dear Lord.

  "Sune. I love you. I don't care that you're in a wheelchair. I still love you the same."

  "Really?

  "Really."

  "Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. Not when you were flirting with Blondie there."

  "I wasn't flirting. I was asking about the case."

  "What case? I thought it was an accident?"

  "It is. It was. I mean…yes, but I just wanted to…I was trying to be polite. I wasn't flirting. Besides, I’m sure he has a wife and kids and everything."

  Sune scoffed. "Of course. You’ve already thought of that."

  "No. I was just assuming…you know what? I am sick of having to justify myself. Yes, I found the guy attractive. I am sorry. I still love you, though. I’m still here with you, even though you treat me like dirt half of the time."

  Sune paused. He looked at me, then shook his head. "I don't even know how we got here," he said. "How it got to this."

  "Me either," I said. "I guess it just happened. I guess we let it happen."

  Just as I said the words, the phone in my pocket rang. Startled, I picked it up. Sune scoffed. "It's probably him already, calling to take you out."

  "Don't be ridiculous," I said and answered.

  "Hello?"

  "Is this Rebekka Franck?"

  "This is she."

  "This is Jack Ryder."

  "Jack who?"

  "Jack Ryder. Detective Jack Ryder. We ran into each other earlier today? The chimney case?"

  This time I was really blushing. Not because he called, but because Sune had been right. I looked at him and he realized it too.

  "Ha. I told you."

  "What can I do for you, Detective?"

  "I just wanted to call you and let you know that there will be a funeral this coming Saturday. Maybe you'd like to attend? The mother, Jackie, asked me to let you know. She was very grateful for you being there."

  "Sure. Sure. I'll be there. Thank you, Detective."

  "No problem. See you Saturday, then."

  I hung up. Sune gave me a look. He scoffed again, then shook his head. "I guess I can't blame you," he said. He grabbed his wheels and rolled his chair past me. "I’m not going to stand in your way anymore. You deserve to be happy. I'll move out once we get back home," he said and left the room.

  23

  "Mom, come out here!"

  It was Julie. She was calling from the doorway. I wiped my tears away and got up from the bed. I walked out of the bedroom where I had been sitting the rest of the afternoon wondering what to do, worrying that things had completely broken between Sune and me. I wanted to talk to him, but I had no idea how to anymore. It didn't matter what I did or said, it was never good enough. I always ended up hurting him in some way. I thought about my ex, Peter, and how our marriage had ended so terribly and wondered if it had to do with me. Did I drive men nuts? Was I not cut out for relationships? I suddenly missed my dad and all his good advice. He would know what to say to make me feel better. He always did. Except, lately, he hadn't been talking much. Mostly sleeping a lot. He had a nurse working for him, bringing him food and feeding him and taking care of him so he wasn't alone, but still. I felt terrible for leaving him. What if he wasn't there when we got back?

  "MO-OM!"

  "I'm coming," I said and stepped out into the living room. I smiled to hide I had been crying. "What's going on?"

  "Are you okay?"

  Of course, she noticed. My daughter always did. No matter how much I tried to cover up that I was in a bad mood or sad, she always knew. She sensed it somehow.

  "I'm fine," I said. "What's going on?"

  "They're singing carols, Christmas carols, in our driveway."

  "I love Christmas carols," I said and followed her outside, thinking this might cheer me up.

  Sune was there with Tobias and William. William was in his lap, Tobias leaning on his chair. The choir sang beautifully, even though it was slightly strange to listen to Christmas carols in eighty-six-degree weather while cicadas were singing along in the background.

  "O holy night. The stars are brightly shining. It is the night of our dear Savior's birth."

  Tobias was humming along next to me. He always was the musical one in our little family and actually had quite the voice. I had often encouraged him to sing for us, but he didn't want to. The first time I had heard his beautiful voice was once when he was in the shower and I walked past the bathroom, wondering who was in there. I listened for a little while, surprised at the power of this young boy's voice. But later, when I asked him to sing something for me, he refused to. Even in school, his music teacher had tried to get him to sing in the play, but he didn't want to. I had spoken to Sune about it and asked him if he thought we should give the boy vocal lessons, but Sune didn't think so.

  "If the boy doesn't want to sing, then he shouldn't."

  "But what if he just needs a little push, a little encouragement?"

  But Sune had told me to leave it alone. Again, an issue where Sune and I were very different. If I discovered J
ulie had a talent, I would make sure to nurture it.

  "Silent night. Holy night. All is calm, all is bright," they continued.

  There were four adults and four children in the choir, but one little girl stood out to me. She was standing behind the other kids, a little to the left side, like she was hiding, like she—like Tobias—didn't like the exposure. But she was by far the best singer of them all. Her voice cut through all of them and made the rest of them fade in comparison. Especially when she, every now and then, closed her eyes and really let it out, not worrying about what everyone else was thinking; that was when she gave me goosebumps, even though it was eighty-six degrees and humid.

  That was quite the accomplishment.

  They sang Jingle Bells and we sang along, and then ended on Ave Maria, sung solo by the girl in the back. It was truly amazing and so magical it made me forget my troubles for a little while and kept me smiling for the rest of the evening.

  24

  Kristin was enjoying herself. So far, they had gone to most of the houses around the neighborhood, following their usual route, and all they had left was the nursing home.

  Kristin stood in front of the old building, shivering slightly before entering. She never liked to go there since all those old people scared her with their wrinkled skin, toothless mouths, and skinny fingers pointing at her. Their nails were always long and cracked and yellow from smoking, their lips black from drinking coffee.

  "Come on, Kristin," her mother said, carrying the cookies in a jar. She grabbed Kristin's hand and pulled her inside.

  Even the smell was scary, Kristin thought. The smell of old lady mixed with death. It was the worst part of the tour. The only good thing was that when her mother passed out cookies to the old ladies, Kristin would usually get one also, and then if there were any more left once they got back out to the car, she would get another.