Twice in a Lifetime

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “I believe we all know about the circumstances we’ll be born into and we agree to them.”

  “You think Marc agreed to die?” she asked incredulously. “To leave you alone with his baby?”

  Rebekka had never thought of it in those terms before, but her answer came with sureness. “I think he knew, yes, and agreed. In fact, I’m sure of it.” Her tears came in earnest now because Rebekka realized that she, too, must also have agreed in the premortal life to face the test of losing her husband. But had she then any idea what that would entail? Had she really been so strong? “All of us have trials,” she continued, becoming aware that Desirée was waiting for more. “Some are harder than others. But one thing I know is that God loves us and if we do our best, He will help us not only endure, but to be happy.”

  “I wish I believed that.”

  It was an echo of the words Samuel had spoken to her the last time she had seen him. Was he married now? Had he looked up the missionaries? Or at least become active in his own religion?

  “You can.” Rebekka told Desirée. “You’ve lived with my brother long enough to know how. The next step is up to you.”

  Desirée nodded silently. Again Rebekka wondered if her attitude was an act or the beginning of real repentance. She prayed that it was, as Raoul had done for so long. Too bad she hadn’t begun her soul-searching before she’d lost Nadia.

  “I need to put on a little make-up before we go,” Rebekka said. “And use the bathroom—I spend half my life in the bathroom now. Wait a minute, okay?”

  Rebekka hurried, fearing that when she returned Desirée would be gone. But when she finished, Desirée was still waiting at the kitchen table, staring into nothingness.

  “I’d better take a few snacks.” Rebekka stuffed a bite of croissant into her mouth. “Want one?”

  Desirée accepted the croissant listlessly and watched without speaking as Rebekka packed her purse with rolls, fruit, and a small carton of milk that didn’t require refrigeration. Thus armed, she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

  “We’ll use the subway so we won’t have to find a parking place.” Rebekka knew they would likely end up walking even more if they took her car to the shopping district.

  Desirée followed her, still morose and quiet, but as they emerged from the subway, she gradually began to smile and act more alive. Rebekka learned that Desirée’s car had been repossessed, that she was working at a bar and renting a room from a friend on the other side of Paris.

  Rebekka chose one of her favorite stores and took Desirée inside. With confidence, Rebekka plucked a few outfits from the racks, held them up to Desirée, discarded a few, and replaced them with others. “These’ll be great,” she said.

  Desirée looked doubtful. “They looked rather . . . well, dull. Boring. And they’re much too big. I don’t wear that size.”

  “Humor me.” Rebekka pushed her toward the dressing room. First Desirée tried on a double-breasted black pantsuit that emphasized her curves but wasn’t tight. The color slimmed her figure and made her eyes look large in her pale face. “Excellent,” Rebekka said.

  “Looks like I’m going to a funeral,” moaned Desirée.

  “No, you look powerful. This is a power suit. People will listen to you when you wear it. I know you might feel a little awkward right now, but if you wear it for a bit, you’ll see what I mean. It’ll become the most comfortable thing you own.”

  “It does feel good not to have it tight. But I plan to lose these extra pounds.”

  “No problem. Look, elastic waist. And you can have the waistline taken in a bit on the jacket. Or you might find it looks even better looser. The one I have I can still fit into and I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re not that big.”

  “I’m getting there.”

  Next Desirée tried on a knit sweater and skirt set like the one Rebekka was wearing. Desirée complained again about the size, but when Rebekka pointed out how much more comfortable it was, she capitulated. Then Desirée tried on a few pair of pants, a column dress with detailed embroidery, three blazers, and a sweater. Several of the choices were definitely not right, and Rebekka had to exchange a few of the sizes, but most of the clothes made Desirée look like a new woman.

  “My parents didn’t give me enough money for all this,” Desirée said, frowning. “But I really want it all. Story of my life.”

  “You have enough for the black suit and the knit sweater set,” Rebekka said. “And I’ll buy one blazer, the sweater, the brown dress pants, and the black pumps. Because the colors are right, you can mix and match.”

  Desirée took her hand. “Thank you, Rebekka.”

  Rebekka could feel her sincerity. “Look, Desirée. After we pay, you change into the black suit, okay? Then we’ll go somewhere else and find some accessories.”

  At first Desirée walked clumsily and awkwardly in her new outfit, but soon she began to move with greater confidence. Rebekka almost couldn’t believe the difference in both her attitude and demeanor.

  They found a pair of inexpensive gold-colored earrings at the next store and a matching necklace. “They will do for jewelry until you can afford real,” Rebekka said. “And do you like this purse? Will it hold everything you need?”

  When they finished shopping, they stopped at a café for a snack. A group of men dressed in suits nodded to them as they waited at the counter to place their order. As Rebekka ordered a pastry filled with cooked turkey, Desirée whispered, “Are men always so polite to you?”

  “Mostly, yes. I ignore any who aren’t polite.”

  As they walked to a table Desirée said, “You know, I bet I could find a better job if I wore this suit.”

  “I bet you could.” Rebekka pulled her milk from her purse and opened the lid.

  Desirée was silent a long time before speaking again. “I’ve been going to a support group that helps people stop drinking. They tell me I need to quit working at the bar. And that I need new friends.”

  “They’re right.”

  She sighed. “I know. What I don’t know is if I’m strong enough.”

  “You will be,” Rebekka said, drinking her milk. “Hurry up and finish. I know just the thing to put you in a good mood.”

  They walked a short distance along the cobbled walk near the Seine River. The Eiffel Tower rose in the background and every so often they saw tourists snapping pictures. This had been one of Rebekka and Marc’s favorite places to haunt since childhood. She always loved the vitality here, and was grateful the memories didn’t bring her pain today. Instead, peace filled her soul.

  “Where are we going?” Desirée also seemed more relaxed.

  “Let me surprise you.”

  Rebekka took Desirée to a hair salon. It wasn’t the place she normally had her hair done since she knew they booked days in advance, but she had heard many recommendations about the quality and timeliness of this salon. To her relief, the lady at the front desk was able to work Desirée in for a cut and a facial. “Go easy on the hairspray,” Rebekka told the stylist. “And the makeup—we’re trying for a professional look here.”

  “Of course,” the man said. “She is no barmaid, eh? You can tell by her clothes.”

  Rebekka stifled a smile. “Exactly.”

  “And for the Madame?”

  “Another day perhaps. We have an appointment soon.”

  While they worked on Desirée, Rebekka looked up Raoul’s lawyer in the phone book. “I’m bringing Desirée down to sign the papers in about an hour,” she told him. “We may not have another chance, so I hope that’s okay.”

  “We’ll work it in. Should I call Raoul? He doesn’t really need to be here, but maybe he’ll want to be.”

  Rebekka hesitated. If Raoul saw the change in Desirée would it make a difference? Or was this change a pretense? Desirée had fooled them all before—and her brother repeatedly. If a real change was beginning, what did it mean for Nadia? Raoul said it was over between him and Desirée, that there ha
d been too much hurt and deception between them.

  “No,” she said slowly. “I’ll call him myself and see what he wants to do.”

  She dialed Raoul’s direct line, and Valerie’s face kept coming to mind. What had Raoul even seen in Desirée? Yes, she had an undeniable appeal to men, that was true, but in everything else she came up short. Unless Raoul had glimpsed the Desirée she’d seen today. I still don’t know if this is the real woman. Then again, maybe losing Nadia has helped her . . . I hope.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Rebekka.”

  “Did Detective Francom call?” Raoul asked eagerly.

  “No. Something else. Look, I’m with Desirée.”

  “You are? Where? Will she sign the papers?”

  “Slow down. Let me explain. She came to the apartment this morning, and we’ve been talking a lot. We’re about to go see your lawyer. She wants to sign.”

  “Does she realized that custody of Nadia goes to me?”

  “Yes. Her parents want Nadia, but she knows she belongs with you.”

  “Thank heaven!” He heaved a great sigh.

  “Raoul?”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  Rebekka bit the inside of her bottom lip, wondering how she could pose the question. “About Desirée. Are you sure it’s over? What if she were to change tomorrow?”

  There was such a long silence that Rebekka wondered if he’d hung up. “Raoul? Are you there?”

  “For three years I’ve prayed every night. I’ve given her every leeway—even when she cheated on me. Over and over, I’ve forgiven her and reconciled with her, and every time she has laughed in my face as she goes back to her . . . ways. But I can’t do it again. I forgive her for cheating on me, I even forgive her for hiding Nadia, but the love I had for her is gone. There’s simply nothing—nothing that isn’t tainted by her unfaithfulness. We have no spiritual experiences to bind us, or any kind of a real marriage. What little of her heart she gave to me, she also gave to a hundred other guys.”

  Raoul stopped for a breath. “I have to do what I feel is best for myself and my child, and Desirée isn’t a part of that. I wish it had ended differently. If she does change, I hope she can find someone who cares for her as much as I did. But I never should have married her. All the signs were there, but I was too caught up to see them. So the answer is no. It would make no difference if Desirée changed, even if we could prove it was for real, which I don’t believe for a second.”

  “Okay. I’ll take her over now. You don’t need to be there. In fact, it’s probably better that you aren’t.”

  “Thanks, sis. Call me when it’s over, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Rebekka hung up the phone, feeling both sad and relieved.

  The haircut and wash did wonders for Desirée. Rebekka was surprised to see that she’d chosen a short, sleek look which did wonders for her image. “I told him to do what he thought best,” Desirée confessed.

  “Do you like it?”

  She glanced in one of the huge mirrors by the cash register. “Yes, I really do.”

  Because the shooting pain in her side had returned and walking was painful, Rebekka hailed a cab to drive them to the attorney’s office. She shrugged off Desirée’s concerns. “Just pregnancy related. Probably because of the extra weight I’m carrying.”

  Before signing the divorce papers, Desirée seemed nervous again. “Are you sure about this?” Rebekka felt forced to say, despite her loyalty to Raoul.

  Desirée nodded. “More than I’ve been about anything. My marriage is over. I knew it the month after we were married. I was no good for him.”

  “You could have been,” Rebekka said quietly. “And whatever happened between you, you deserve to be happy.”

  “But I didn’t choose it, did I?” There was obvious bitterness in Desirée’s voice. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Rebekka. I really do. But you and I both know Raoul is out of my life forever. I blew it. Now I finally do want to change, but I don’t trust myself enough to believe I’ll really do it.”

  “Yes, you can. You need to believe it’s possible.”

  Desirée’s eyes filled with tears. “I hope you’re right.” She signed the documents in all the right places as the attorney looked dispassionately on. Afterward, he told her the court would contact her when the divorce was final.

  A short time later in the lobby of the building, Desirée kissed Rebekka’s cheek, whispered her thanks, and headed for the door. “Wait, how can I reach you?” Rebekka asked.

  “I’ll call,” Desirée promised. “Or you can leave a message with my parents if you find Nadia. As soon as I clear up the ticket mess, I’ll go in and see the police. I don’t know what I can do to help, but I’ll try.”

  Rebekka watched her go, feeling suddenly melancholy. Would Desirée make progress? Or would she continue to drown herself in alcohol and her addictive lifestyle in order to block out the reality of her failed marriage and her daughter’s disappearance?

  Exhaustion and frustration fell over Rebekka, but she didn’t begrudge the time or money she’d spent on Desirée. In fact, she was grateful Desirée had reminded her that she had chosen to come to earth and marry Marc, even knowing they would face this trial. Like Desirée, she must choose how to live the rest of her life—and whether or not she would be happy.

  She signaled another a taxi, digging her hand into her side. Next week at her appointment she would ask the doctor about this pain.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It had been three days since André had seen Rebekka. The last time was at church on Sunday. He knew she had a doctor’s appointment the following week, and he planned to be there as long as the doctor believed he was the husband, but he couldn’t wait that long to see her alone. Every minute together meant another building block to their relationship—one her boyfriend Samuel couldn’t hope to match while he continued living in America.

  André felt good about confessing his feelings to her. At least he didn’t have to hide them anymore, and though her revelation about Samuel was disturbing, he wasn’t giving up. He hadn’t yet publicly announced his intentions to the family, but since he’d talked to Josette most likely Zack, Marie-Thérèse, and Mathieu knew. He felt sure his mother, always sensitive to her children and their feelings, would have figured out that he’d approached Rebekka—and that meant his father also knew. Raoul had to have suspected something with the continuous shower of plant life in their apartment. André felt sure everyone was rooting for him, or at least they didn’t hate the idea.

  Rebekka herself was an enigma. She talked with him, laughed with him, and even seemed happy to hear from him when he called, but the moment he broached anything serious—like her relationship with Samuel or his feelings for her, she would close up like the prayer plant he’d bought her last week. He always backed off, determined to win her but not wanting to hurt her in the process.

  Today he had to see her, to assure himself she was still here. Often in his dreams, she would run away with Samuel to America, and he was left standing at the airport alone. He couldn’t let that happen. Yet ultimately, it would be her choice and hers alone.

  As it had been to marry Marc. He tried not to feel unhappy at the thought. After all, he had a second chance.

  André swung by to pick his daughters up at school. They loved to see Rebekka, and if he took them along, he’d be able to keep things more casual and maybe convince her to go out to dinner with him later.

  Ana and Marée were excited. “I love going to Rebekka’s,” Ana said. “She lets me feel the baby. It kicked. At least I think it was a kick. It’s kinda hard to tell.”

  “It’ll be easier as it gets bigger,” André assured them, stifling an unreasonable jealousy that the girls had been permitted to feel the baby while he had to stay at arm’s length.

  Get a grip, he told himself. Doing so was hard when he was sure Rebekka only needed time—to see what a good husband he could be to her.


  “Why are we stopping here?” asked Marée. “I thought we were going to Rebekka’s.”

  “First I just want to dash in this shop and buy some flowers for Rebekka,” André said. “It won’t take a minute.” The flowers would be his excuse to visit.

  “Oh.” There was a little too much knowing in Marée’s reply.

  The girls accompanied him into the shop. “Those,” begged Ana, pointing. “The big yellow ones. They’re so beautiful.”

  “Those are sunflowers,” said the shopkeeper. “Very popular these days. I can make them into a beautiful arrangement.”

  André inclined his head. “Please do. With a vase.”

  “But Daddy, look at this basket!” Marée was fingering the edge. “It has one, two, three, four, five different plants inside. One with purple flowers. And they’re growing right out of the dirt, but it’s in a basket. Let’s buy this for her. Please. She’ll love it.”

  André knew Rebekka often forgot to water plants, but she must enjoy them since she and Marc had always kept a few around the house. “We’ll take that, too,” he said.

  The girls squealed their contentment and André felt like a hero. The shopkeeper also looked pleased. Well, why wouldn’t he? he thought. I’ve become his best customer this past month.

  In a way he knew it was childish to keep sending plants and flowers, but he would do so until the moment she agreed to marry him. At least she wouldn’t be able to forget him easily. Smiling to himself, he carried the vase of sunflowers out to the car, while the girls trailed after him, swinging the basket between them.

  They arrived at Rebekka’s before four o’clock. She buzzed them into the building lobby immediately, and André felt uncharacteristically nervous as they rode up the four floors to her apartment. Part of him squirmed in anticipation, and the other part worried about what to say.

  The door was ajar when the elevator opened, but Rebekka wasn’t at the door waiting. “I guess we just go in,” he said to the girls. They found Rebekka in the sitting room on the sofa, legs supported by the coffee table, arms outspread.