Twice in a Lifetime

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Everyone is coming, aren’t they?” Zack asked.

  Josette thought about it as she strapped David into his car seat. “Oh, no!” she said. “I didn’t talk to André. He wasn’t home last night—he must have taken the girls somewhere—and then I forgot to call back.”

  “Let’s just swing over to his work.” Zack ran his hand through his blonde hair, and tossed her the endearing grin that made her feel a rush of love that had never dimmed through fifteen years of marriage. “If he’s not there, the receptionist will be able to let us know where he’s at. It’ll only take a few minutes, and this food isn’t in any dire need of a refrigerator.”

  “Good idea.”

  Inside, they were met by Valerie Bernard, the office manager, looking very professional in a black skirt and jacket, her dark hair swept into a loose bun. “Hi Josette, Zack,” she said, waving at them with the manila folder she carried. “Are you here to see André?”

  “Yeah,” Josette said. “We’re having a family party tonight to celebrate my sister’s new foster kids, and believe it or not, I forgot to tell him.”

  Valerie laughed. “He’s in his office. If I know him, he doesn’t have plans.”

  Zack hefted David in his arms. “Why don’t you go ahead, Jose? This little boy of ours wants a drink.”

  “I’ll meet you back here in about two minutes.” Josette turned back to Valerie. “Thanks. It was nice seeing you again.”

  “You, too.” Valerie started to walk away but stopped and turned back. “Uh, Josette. I was wondering—did you invite Raoul?”

  “Yeah, we always invite him and Rebekka.”

  “Good. I just wanted to make sure Raoul wasn’t going to be alone tonight. He’s been pretty restless since this stuff with his daughter. It’s eating him up not being able to find her.”

  Josette felt immediately guilty. “I didn’t even consider how this might affect him. I can’t believe I’ve been so insensitive. Do you think I should cancel?”

  “No. It’ll do him good to talk it all out. And Rebekka will be there, won’t she? She’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Rebekka’s coming, but she’s leaving early. A friend of hers is visiting from America.” An idea flashed through Josette’s head. “Hey, I know. You should come. That way you can keep an eye on him.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude on your family.”

  Josette slapped her forehead in the way her father had always done. “There I go again. Of course you don’t want to come, and it’s not as if Raoul needs baby-sitting. I’ll keep a watch on him myself rather than impose on you. I’m sure you have other plans for a Friday night.”

  “It’s not that. I love your family, and I like to think I’m here for Raoul during this rough time. If it weren’t for him and Marc, I wouldn’t have this job or found my faith. I owe them a lot.” She looked down at the folder in her hand, flushing slightly.” It’s just . . . well, Raoul’s not divorced yet, though I know he’s seen his lawyers about it. I don’t want anyone to think that I have other . . . you know, interests.” She paused and then hurried to add, “Because I don’t. We’re just friends.”

  Josette hadn’t seen that coming. Of course! Valerie was obviously in love with Raoul, though she didn’t seem ready to admit it to herself. Wheels began churning in Josette’s head. “No one would think that. But please, I’d really like you to come tonight. Working here all this time, you’re practically family, too.”

  Josette had to offer several more pleas before Valerie’s concern for Raoul finally overcame her reluctance.

  “See you tonight then.” Josette bid Valerie farewell and continued to her brother’s office. She knocked once and was immediately bid to enter. “André,” she said, as he met her halfway across the room.

  “You look great!” he said, kissing her cheek. “Hey, you’re not pregnant again, are you?”

  She laughed. “Not on your life. I have my hands full, thank you very much. And I don’t look great when I’m pregnant—more like a round blob with long hair.” With a hand she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.

  “Says you. We think you’re lovely. You and Zack have such beautiful children that I don’t know if it’s right for you to stop at only five.”

  Josette lifted her chin. “Right? Ha! When you have as many children as I do, then you can talk about what’s right.”

  “Well, I lack two, if I include Thierry, so I guess I’ll shut up.” He indicated a seat. “What brings you here?”

  “I can’t stay but a minute but I came to tell you we’re having a get-together tonight at Mom and Dad’s.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Any particular reason?”

  “Actually, yes. But it’s a surprise.” She held up a finger at his grin. “And no, I’m really not pregnant. What’s with you and babies lately? If you were a woman, I’d swear you’re baby hungry.”

  “Hey, this time I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yeah, but I saw you with Marie-Thérèse’s little Raquel and then with Sister Janis’s baby on Sunday.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “They’re cute.”

  Josette felt there was more he wasn’t saying, but she could never read him as well as she had Marc. She’d only had to look at her twin to know what he was feeling.

  “Josette? Are you listening?”

  She shook her head. “What?”

  “I asked if you would mind giving me some advice—just between the two of us. You know, as my older sister and as Marc’s twin. He was always my guide, you know, but now that’s he’s not here, I need someone to talk to.”

  Josette shivered and glanced toward the door, almost expecting Marc to walk through it. “Sure. But I warn you, I’ve got groceries in the car and Zack’s out there waiting somewhere with David.”

  “It won’t take but a minute.” He crossed the few steps to the two chairs in front of his desk and sat down. She sank onto the other chair. “When Marc died,” he began, “he asked me to look after Rebekka.”

  “Yes, you told us that.”

  “I think looking after her means making her happy, and I’m not sure how I can do that.”

  This was easy. “Just be her friend,” Josette said, leaning back in her chair. “Listen to her. Help her with her car, home repairs, or whatever.”

  “What about a husband?”

  Josette blinked. “What are you saying?”

  “Rebekka’s young. To think that she’ll go her whole life without getting married again is pretty ridiculous.”

  “Yes, but it’s much too early for her to even think about—”

  “There’s more,” he interrupted. “Things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you.”

  “Then how do you expect me to give you any advice?”

  He took a deep breath. “Fair enough. Okay, here it is: I asked Rebekka to marry me.”

  “You what?” Josette sat up straight. “Are you saying—you what?”

  “I made her a business proposition. We’d get married and that way I’d be able to take care of her. You know how fond I am of Rebekka, and she loves my daughters. I think it’d work out great.”

  “B—but,” Josette spluttered, waving her hands in exasperation. “You can’t get married under those conditions. Marriage isn’t a business deal.”

  André frowned. “That’s what she said.”

  Josette began to relax. The idea of his marrying Rebekka to take care of her was ludicrous, and she was glad Rebekka understood that. “I think you can take care of her without marrying her. I don’t think Marc ever meant for you to do such a thing.”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. Finally, he said, “That’s where you’re wrong, Josette. I think Marc did mean just that.”

  “Why on earth would he mean that unless . . .” She leaned forward, gazing at him intently. “Oh André, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  His gaze fell to the carpet. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you or anyone. Mom and Dad know part
of it.”

  She waited in silence, fearing that if she spoke, he wouldn’t continue.

  “Do you remember when Marc got out of the hospital after his last transplant? And Rebekka broke off their engagement?”

  “I remember only too well. I thought Marc would die from a broken heart.” She wasn’t exaggerating.

  “I know. That’s why I stepped aside.”

  “You stepped aside? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Rebekka helped me through Claire’s death, and during Marc’s illness we became very close. I—I realized I cared for her. Of course, I was still deep in mourning, and she was in love with Marc. There was something between us, but it wasn’t the right time. Eventually, I realized there never would be a right time, and I was content to see them happy together.”

  Josette was slowly beginning to understand, and her heart burst with tenderness toward both her brothers. “Did Marc ever know?”

  André pulled at his eyelashes, removing a stray lash or perhaps a tear. Then he rested his elbows on the armrests, hand steepled over his chest. “He guessed much later. He said he never blamed me. That’s when he told me to watch after Rebekka.”

  “Then, you’re right. He did want you to marry her.”

  André glanced at her in surprise. “You understand.”

  “I know how Marc thinks.” Josette jumped to her feet, her fists clenched. “I tell you, for the first time since his death, I’m furious at him! How dare he try to manipulate you like that. You deserve to marry a woman you love, a woman you can have a true relationship with. And so does Rebekka. You both can’t be forced into a business relationship because Marc wants you to guard his claim.”

  André had risen with her, and he put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t think that’s why he did it. I think he wants us to be happy.”

  Josette brought her fingers to her mouth. “Happy? Are you saying you still love Rebekka?” If that was the case, then he was right—right about everything. Marc would have wanted them to be happy. The decision wouldn’t have been a simple one for him, but he would have made it with enough time.

  André’s jaw tightened and his voice came hoarsely. “I fought against it at first, but since Marc’s death, it hurts when I think about not being with Rebekka. I want to take her into my arms every time I see her. And believe it or not, those feelings have made it easier for me to cope with Marc’s death. Not easy, mind you, but easier. As though I know I have his blessing, that he’s closer somehow. Problem is, I don’t believe Rebekka cares for me now, and even if she did, there’s so much guilt and loss revolving around our relationship and Marc’s death that I don’t know if she will ever see beyond it. So how can I make her happy? What can I do?”

  Josette hugged André. “I don’t know, but we’ll find a way. Let more time go by. Maybe that will help.”

  “That’s what Mom told me,” he said with a sound that was half laugh and half cry. “Except why do I feel I need to act quickly? Like she’s slipping farther away each day?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  He drew away. “I already did.”

  “What?”

  “I called up her old boyfriend, the one she almost married when she lived in Utah. He’s coming to visit. Maybe he can make her happy since she won’t let me.”

  Josette stared at her brother, barely recognizing him. “You what? Oh, so that’s the friend who’s flying in tonight. Okay, now I’m really mad! Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do. She’s in mourning, for crying out loud. She’s vulnerable. She needs time to settle her emotions, but you’ve gone and forced the issue. Did you even stop to think that she might feel so guilty over her feelings for you—if she still has any for someone so stupid—that she might actually fall into this guy’s arms just to get away? Then he’ll whisk her away to America and that’ll be that. He may be an okay guy, but if you and she are meant to be together, then she may never find happiness again if she goes with him.” Josette punched André on the arm. “What were you thinking? Stop being a martyr and go after the woman you love! Marc’s gone, you have his approval, there’s no need to sacrifice your feelings anymore.”

  André looked stricken. “I was just . . . I was giving her a choice.”

  “You’re not giving her a choice. You’re pushing her away. Did you even tell her you love her? No, I thought not. You offered her a business partnership, as if any woman would ever agree to that. We want love, romance, passion. Ooo! You make me so mad!” Josette clenched her fists and glared at him. “That doesn’t mean I won’t think of something to help you,” she added, “but . . . Oooo!” She glared at him.

  “I guess it probably wasn’t the right thing to do,” André said. “But where Rebekka’s concerned, I never seem to know which way is up.”

  There was a tap on the door. “Josette?”

  “It’s Zack,” Josette said. “Come in, honey,” she called, obliterating all traces of exasperation from her face as her husband entered carrying David.

  “We’d better get that food to your mom’s,” he said.

  “I’m ready.”

  Zack nodded toward André. “So we’ll see you tonight?”

  “Will I need to shave?” André rubbed the dark shadow on his chin.

  “Of course not.” Josette smiled at him, trying to make up a little for her outburst. He had been asking advice, after all, and she shouldn’t have become so angry—wouldn’t have if she didn’t care so much for him. “But please come.” Then she couldn’t help adding, “If you stay long enough, you might be able to meet Rebekka’s friend from America.” She began to close the door.

  “Uh, Josette,” André called. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She shut the door and walked away. Oh, Marc, she thought. I know you worried about your kidney failing again, about dying. You must have been thinking about it for a long time. About Rebekka and André.

  Despite the arrogance of the idea, Josette felt a new admiration for her twin. No matter how long she had to think about dying and leaving Zack, she could have never planned a new wife for him. She didn’t want to share him. But for all Marc’s planning, she didn’t know how this was going to work out. You can’t control emotions so easily, Marc. You just can’t.

  * * *

  André felt like the utter idiot Josette had accused him of being. Why had he called Samuel Bjornenburg? Had Rebekka’s refusal of his proposal made him so embittered that he would throw her into another’s arms? No, rather it had been the look in her eyes. The look that said she would never allow herself to love him. I just want her to be happy.

  According to Josette, he should wait for Rebekka to heal enough, and then make his feelings known to her. But that would leave him open to rejection—again

  I never fought for her. I let her go.

  What else could he have done?

  André sat behind his desk, pondering his next move. The very first thing would be to try to repair the damage he had done by calling Samuel in America. Josette was right. It was too soon for Rebekka to think of a relationship with anyone—much less a man who didn’t share her religious beliefs.

  Marc’s child needs a father, he thought, and Rebekka needs someone to look after her.

  André wanted to be the one to do both those things. His mother and his sister had counseled him to give her time, but the urgency hadn’t left his heart. Were his emotions driving him on, or something unseen? Marc? The Spirit? Or was it his own need?

  He tried to think how he would have felt if he had died instead of Claire. Would he have wanted Marc to take care of his wife? Perhaps marry? The idea of Claire was not easy to stomach. And yet . . . worse was the idea of her enduring alone. Marc must have gone over this very thing in his mind—and had come to the same conclusion.

  A scene that had happened at Christmastime almost a year ago flashed into memory. Marc had come into his office to show him a book of rare piano music he’d bought for Rebekka. “I can’t wait to
see her face when she opens this,” he said.

  André could imagine it too, but he forced himself not to think of her face lighting up, of the kiss she would give Marc. It was none of his business. He would go home to the girls and Thierry and be content.

  Marc didn’t leave but leaned against the edge of André’s desk. His smile faded and his face, staring at the music, became solemn. “You remember when I was in the hospital and I told you about that feeling I had while visiting Rebekka in America? That I wouldn’t have long to be with her?”

  “I remember. That was when you said you wouldn’t marry Rebekka unless you knew you were going to live. She wanted to have a civil wedding in the hospital so she could later seal herself to you in the temple if . . .”

  “If I died.” Marc set the music on the desk and met his eyes. “You agreed that I shouldn’t marry her and bind her to me if I didn’t plan to be around because one day she might find someone else and want to be sealed to him instead.”

  André felt even more uncomfortable. “Hey, you came up with the idea. I don’t think I could have been so strong.”

  “I spent a lot of hours lying in that hospital bed thinking about it.”

  “But you didn’t die and you and Rebekka are married. Are you saying you wished you hadn’t married her?” The idea left a sour taste on André’s tongue.

  “Of course not. Rebekka’s my life.” There was no mistaking Marc’s sincerity. “Every day I thank the Lord for the time I have with her. It’s just . . .” He frowned and began to pace the room. “This kidney won’t last forever, and the next transplant—if I can find a kidney—might not go well. Then there’s that fact that I’m ten years older than she is. Lately I’m having trouble sleeping. I keep thinking how stubbornly loyal Rebekka is and how if something were to happen to me how she might pine away and be miserable for the rest of her life. I don’t want that for her. But since I can’t figure out what to do about it, I was thinking—just thinking mind you—that maybe I should ask the advice of my wise little brother.”

  André wished he had his sunglasses on, afraid Marc might detect the envy in his eyes for the life he shared with Rebekka. He stared at the desk for a long minute, composing himself and his thoughts. Then slowly he arose and went to stand by his brother. “If you did ask me, I would say that you don’t really need to worry because the Lord knows what He’s doing. I would remind you that He loves Rebekka even more than you do. I’d tell you we’d all take care of her. But you know all that, so you probably don’t have to ask.”