“I’d like to see it, too,” Rebekka said.
Marie-Thérèse nodded. When Raoul didn’t seem to know how to begin, she took the baby from him, signaling for Mathieu to move several vases of André’s flowers from the coffee table. Spreading a baby blanket, she laid the baby carefully down. “She probably needs to be changed anyway.”
“Will you show me how?” Raoul asked. He paid close attention as Marie-Thérèse showed him how to position the new diaper, remove the old one, and clean her up.
“There’s the birthmark,” Marie-Thérèse said. It really was a heart—albeit a little lopsided—and Rebekka had never seen anything so beautiful.
“Now fasten the tabs like this,” Marie-Thérèse said. “You do the other one.” She smiled her approval as Raoul completed the job. Rebekka could sense that Marie-Thérèse was relieved to be there, to make sure Nadia would be all right without her.
As Raoul cuddled Nadia to his chest once more, they pieced together what might have occurred in the days after Desirée had left Nadia. “So Lana took her to Celisse’s mother, when Lana didn’t come back, she must have gone out partying like she always did,” Raoul said. “And Nadia’s cries alerted the neighbors.”
“Apparently the woman left Celisse alone a lot,” Marie-Thérèse put in. “She wasn’t a very good mother.”
They all looked at Celisse who had fallen asleep cuddled in Marie-Thérèse’s lap. Rebekka wondered what the child would feel when she awoke and realized her new family would be going home without Nadia.
Marie-Thérèse sighed. “In a way, I feel we owe Nadia a great deal—and more indirectly, Desirée. If it hadn’t been for Nadia’s cries, Celisse might still be in that hole with that . . . that woman.” She held Celisse more closely before her gaze slid to Nadia. Her smile faltered briefly, and Rebekka saw a shadow of pain cross her features.
“I think we should call Detective Francom,” Rebekka said. “He might be able to verify this. We don’t want to make any mistakes.”
At that subtle warning, Raoul’s smile faded, and Rebekka thought she saw a glimmer of hope in Larissa’s eyes. But not the others. They knew.
“You call him, okay?” Raoul seemed unable to tear his eyes from Nadia. Like any new parent, he was busy counting toes and fingers, discovering how to hold his daughter, and breathing in her scent.
Rebekka was put through to Detective Francom’s office almost immediately. She plunged into the story, and when she finished, she was out of breath. “You have the baby there right now?” Detective Francom asked.
“Yes. She was placed with my sister-in-law through social services. She thought the little girls were sisters, but apparently the mother of the older child showed up today and denied being the baby’s mother.” Rebekka checked with Marie-Thérèse before adding. “The mother’s last name is Despain.”
“I have Madame Despain in my office right now. We were planning on taking her to see Lana, but maybe now that’s not necessary.”
“I wish you would,” Rebekka said quickly. “We’d like to be sure.”
“Well, we’ll be able to match the baby with the records at the hospital where Desirée delivered, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“If Lana sees her and confirms that she’s the woman. That’s enough—at least for right now. The baby has a heart birthmark.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.”
They waited an hour in the living room before the detective returned her call, talking about feeding and nap times and silently staring at each other during the awkward gaps in the conversation.
“Lana identified Madame Despain,” he said. “And I’ve talked to the lady in charge of the case at social services. We’ll have to verify everything medically, of course. But I for one am positive that we’ve found little Nadia.”
Rebekka began to weep softly at the miracle. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
“Normally social services would have to release her into your care, but since the family taking care of her is willing to let you watch her until she is officially released from social services, she can stay with you. They’ll be in touch tomorrow to get it all straightened out. Or maybe on Monday. So for now, enjoy your niece. Hold on tight.”
“We will.”
Rebekka hung up the phone, aware of the intent eyes upon her. “Lana verified that she left Nadia with Celisse’s mother.”
Marie-Thérèse stood up quickly, losing her balance momentarily. Her husband jumped to steady her. “We’d better get home,” Marie-Thérèse said. “I need to get Celisse to bed.” Marie-Thérèse’s eyes went to Nadia, and then away again.
Raoul saw the look and held Nadia out to her. “You can hold her if you want. Any time you’d like to see her, please come over.”
Marie-Thérèse passed a still-sleeping Celisse to Larissa before she hugged and kissed Nadia. “We love you, honey,” she murmured. “You’ll be happy here.” Her voice rose at the end, and Rebekka thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t. Resolutely, she handed Nadia to her husband and took Celisse from Larissa.
Each of the family in turn said goodbye to the baby. Larissa’s tears seemed unending, causing Rebekka to want to comfort her. “Please,” Larissa said to Raoul, “let us watch her sometimes. Brandon said you have to work, and Rebekka’s not feeling well.”
“How about on Monday?” Raoul said. “I have my divorce hearing with the judge and then I have to go to work. I don’t want to, but I have so much to catch up on. And Rebekka has a deadline. Will you watch her that day?”
Larissa looked toward her mother, who nodded.
“Maybe, if you want, we could work something out more permanently,” Raoul suggested. “I mean, Rebekka works too, and when her baby comes . . . well, it would be a relief to have someone we can trust.”
“We’ll talk about it later then.” Marie-Thérèse sounded strained, and Rebekka wondered how many hours she would cry that night after she was home.
Brandon, who now held Nadia, kissed her soft cheek and returned her to Raoul. The family walked slowly to the door.
Without another glance at Nadia, Marie-Thérèse opened the door and strode to the elevator, pushing the button firmly. The rest of the family followed. Only Brandon looked back, and the tears in his eyes would stay with Rebekka for a long time.
Raoul shut the door. He moved as though to return to the living room or go into the kitchen, but then remained in the entryway staring at Nadia. “Are they going to be all right?” he asked, his eyes rising to meet Rebekka’s. “It seems wrong for me to be so happy when they’re in such pain. I know what this baby means to them.”
Rebekka sighed. “There’s nothing we can do about that. Nadia is your daughter, and she belongs with you. But we can certainly make the transition easier. It was kind of you to ask them to watch her on Monday.”
“Was it? Or are we only prolonging their pain?”
“Raoul, we’ve been a part of the Perrault family way before I married Marc. I was five and you were seven when we first met them. We grew up with Marie-Thérèse, Josette, Marc, and André. Even with Marc gone, they’ll continue to be a major part of our lives. You work closely with André, I’m having a Perrault baby, we go to their family parties, and we see half of them at church each week. We can’t avoid them—I won’t avoid them. We need them and they need us. Besides, they love Nadia, and I think that letting them have a part of her will help them get over her loss. It certainly won’t harm her.”
“You’re right.” Raoul lifted Nadia and kissed her repeatedly. “I can’t believe this . . . this feeling. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. She’s mine. She’s part of me. And Desirée—the good part of her anyway. Something I can keep.” He smiled at Rebekka. “Hey, it was your flyer all along. If not for you, I wouldn’t have Nadia with me right now. It could have taken days to make the connection. Thank you, sis.”
“You’re welcome.”
Still cradling his daughte
r, Raoul walked toward the living room. Rebekka let them go. There would be plenty of time later to bond with her niece, but for now, she would let Raoul start learning to become a father.
Her hands went to her swollen stomach, rubbing slightly to ease the itching sensation. The pain that had been constant during the past weeks still ached, but dully now, and she ignored it.
Feeling the sudden urge to talk to someone, she picked up the phone to call her parents. They would want to know about Nadia. They would want to rush right over and shower their granddaughter with love and the presents she knew her mother had been collecting over the past month.
But her fingers didn’t dial that number. “Hello?” said a familiar voice—a voice that sent her pulse racing and seemed to weave cotton over her tongue.
“It’s me,” she managed.
“Rebekka.” André sounded glad to hear her.
“I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“No, I just got the girls to bed. They needed about ten stories tonight for some reason.”
Rebekka tried to laugh, but it came out a sob.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly. “Is it the baby?”
“No, no. It’s—we’ve found Nadia!”
“That’s wonderful. I can’t imagine how Raoul must be feeling.”
“He just stares at her. She’s so perfect.” Rebekka swallowed hard. “But it’s not all happy news. It turns out that Nadia was Marie-Thérèse’s little Raquel. I know it all sounds confusing, but that’s the way it is. I believe the Lord had a hand in protecting her, but I feel so bad for Marie-Thérèse right now. She wanted that baby so much. They all did. Even Larissa. You should have seen them tonight. It was awful.”
“I’m coming right over,” André said.
“You can’t—the girls.”
“Thierry’s here for the weekend. He’ll watch them.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”
“It’s okay. Hang tight, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Rebekka replaced the receiver, deciding to let Raoul break the happy news to their parents himself. In a few moments, she was sure he would remember them and call.
In her bedroom, she changed into a maroon cotton dress with long sleeves. The loose outfit reached her ankles and did better to conceal her growing stomach than most of her maternity outfits. Then she brushed her teeth and combed her hair. She didn’t stop to think about why she cared about the way she looked or to examine her feelings more closely. All she knew was that she needed to talk, and André was coming over.
* * *
André didn’t have to wait long for Rebekka to open the door. “Hello,” she said, her voice as smooth as satin sheets against his skin—only warmer. She looked beautiful to him as always, but her face was troubled. “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested.
He noticed her forehead was drawn as though fighting a headache, or perhaps some other affliction. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
She shrugged. “A drive then.”
“What about Raoul?”
“I looked in on him a moment ago. He was calling my parents. I think they’ll be here soon even though it’s late.”
“Come on, then. But grab a jacket first—it’s cold outside.”
Once in the car, André drove while Rebekka talked, detailing the night’s events and how each person had reacted. From her description, André felt he had been there himself.
“That was a courageous thing for Marie-Thérèse and Mathieu to do,” he said. “They’ve got to be hurting. I called Josette on the way over. She and Marie-Thérèse are close, and she’ll be able to help her if anyone can.”
Rebekka bit the inside of her bottom lip. “I think she’ll need time.” She heaved a sigh. “At least Celisse’s mother isn’t going to fight for her.”
“That’s something. Celisse deserves a good family.”
“That’s exactly what’s so hard about this whole thing,” Rebekka said. “They’re a great family. They would raise Nadia well and teach her proper values. Two stable parents, siblings—it’s perfect. And then there’s Raoul. He loves her. He’s a good man, but he’ll be divorced soon and life as a single father won’t be easy. And what if he does marry? Will his wife love Nadia as he does? What about Desirée? Will she be in and out of Nadia’s life? I feel really confused about the whole situation. I love my brother so much, and I’ve done everything I can to support him, but I admit that a part of me wonders if it would have been better for Nadia to have stayed with Marie-Thérèse.” She brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed her temples. “Oh, forgive me Raoul,” she whispered. “I would never tell him that. Never.”
André pulled over and stopped in a place where tall residential apartment buildings lined the road and there was minimal traffic. “Your concerns are only natural, but you forgot to add yourself and your parents to the equation. And my family as well. We’ll all be there for Nadia—even Marie-Thérèse and Mathieu. As you said, Raoul is a good man. He’ll make a great father.”
Rebekka again bit at the inside of her lower lip, and the action nearly drove André to distraction. He wanted more than anything to put his arms around her and offer comfort. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as Samuel was in the picture. Not as long as Rebekka couldn’t admit to what was going on between them.
At least she had called him tonight—that in itself was a tremendous break-through. Since the day he’d declared his feelings for her, she had never made any overtures of any kind, not even to acknowledge the flowers and plants he kept sending. But then what did he expect—a thank-you note every day? Not hardly. His offerings were solely a reminder of his love.
She reached out a hand to hold his. “Thank you for coming tonight, André. After all that’s happened lately between us. . . well, I didn’t expect you to . . . be a friend.”
“I will always be your friend.” He leaned closer to her, more to see her reaction than anything else because he had already promised himself he wouldn’t try to force her love. She froze in his sudden spotlight. Was her breath coming faster? Or was that shallow breathing his own?
Almost without meaning too, he edged closer. She didn’t back away.
Their lips met, as first tentatively and then with more assurance. His arm crept about her and pulled her closer. Control, André warned himself. Rebekka meant too much to him to take advantage of her erratic emotions. When she finally did open her heart, he wanted it to be of her own free will, not because of some trauma that had occurred during the day. When she pulled gently away, he didn’t protest.
She didn’t look at him or speak, and for a moment, he was tempted to drag an explanation from her. “Why did you let me kiss you?” he could ask. Or maybe “Why did you kiss me like that?” But something warned him to leave it alone. He would let the kiss stand as a natural extension of their closeness. Let her begin to see their relationship did not end with friendship, but went far beyond. And above all, let her not feel threatened.
He restarted the engine without speaking and wound his way through the dark, nearly deserted streets to her apartment building. He had driven much further than he remembered and by the time they arrived, Rebekka had fallen asleep. The illumination from the street light cast eerie shadows on her face, making her seem fragile and ethereal. André brought the car to a halt, but kept the engine and the heater running. For a long time, he sat silently and watched her sleep.
* * *
Rebekka tried to turn over, but something held her back. Her eyes flew open as her hands searched for the reason: the safety belt. Memory came back to her in a flood, and she glanced toward André in the driver’s seat. He was twisted slightly, his back resting against the door.
“We’re home,” he said softly. She couldn’t see his expression, but his voice sounded odd. Something about the tone made her want to kiss him again.
Then for a sudden brief instant, she saw not André but her husband in the car with her. Marc! her he
art sang. The image faded and he was André again. Disappointment set in as the joy ebbed.
“I’d better go in,” she murmured. “My parents are probably over. They’ll be wondering where I am.”
André nodded and opened his door. He came around to help her out, for which she was grateful. The pain in her left side was once more sharp and intense. He held her hand as they went toward her apartment building, took her keys to open the door when she fumbled at the lock, and rode up with her on the elevator. She knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was safely inside her apartment, so she didn’t bother to tell him to leave.
At the door she brought out her keys again. She paused. “André I . . . thanks for coming. For listening.”
He nodded, his face expressionless, and she knew he was purposely hiding his emotions. For a moment it made her angry. You say you love me, and yet you stand there as though nothing happened between us.
The thought was unreasonable, given her feelings toward him, but Rebekka didn’t care. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she whispered, “Kiss me, André. Kiss me again.”
She knew she shouldn’t use him like this, but she was so lonely and he was there, so handsome and strong—and so like her beloved Marc.
He was silent, and for a moment she thought he would refuse. At last he put his arms around her and pulled her tightly to him. She wondered fleetingly if he could feel the bulk of the baby between them like she could, and if it repelled him.
His lips met hers—not in the gentle, comforting kisses they had shared in the car, but with a strength that both scared and exhilarated her. I shouldn’t be kissing him, she thought. But she didn’t stop. Why shouldn’t I kiss him? another part of her returned. We are responsible adults. Kissing is a part of a relationship.
Almost immediately the guilt set in. Who was she fooling? Yes, kissing was part of a relationship, but should only be part of a serious one. And how could she be serious about André?
Marc. Oh, Marc. She pulled away and turned to the door, her mouth feeling bruised but somehow alive . . . like her heart.
“Rebekka.” His voice compelled her to look at him.
Twice in a Lifetime Page 28
