Unforgiven

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  She’d done that once. That had been a time in her life when she was young and foolish, believing everything she wanted was something she couldn’t have. She had always been looking for something better, not understanding that what she already had was all she needed. It was right in front of her, but then, at times she hadn’t been able to see it. She had been making choices in fear, acting as if she knew everything. She soon discovered, as the years went by, that she knew nothing at all.

  There was a lot to be said for age and wisdom, for living through every heartbreak imaginable—many of her own making. She hoped she was a better person, all her choices having brought her to this one moment in time. She was Becky Ann Friessen, Rodney’s wife, mother to Brad, Neil, and Jed and their wives, Emily, Candy, and Diana. She was a grandmother, a friend.

  A breeze picked up, whistling as it stirred the waves over the salty ocean. Becky could hear them pounding the white sandy shore. She could smell the salt in the air, and she breathed again until it settled her. She wanted to go down to the water, to walk there herself and wade into and through the waves as they slapped against her legs, soaking her linen pants. But she wasn’t there yet. Almost, she told herself. She believed it as she stared at the cane resting against the light oak nightstand beside the bed, beside the easy chair she was sitting in.

  Her skin was damp even with the breeze blowing in. It was warm again, like every other day in Cancun, the home she and Rodney had retired to. She was in the perfect chair before the open window, staring out at the vibrant colors from the gardens below: the reds, greens, oranges, and pinks. Her roses, orchids, and lilies were all in full bloom, and it was in moments like this, when she caught a scent from her garden, that she would remember the young girl who fell in love, had her heart broken, and then pulled a knife across her wrists, allowing the blood to flow out of her just to make the agony stop.

  She stared at the white lines now, faded from forty years ago. The memory too had faded over the years—what she had done, what her husband had done. Something happened when you stood between life and death that reminded you of everything you’d forgotten. Becky tried to forget and blank it out as she moved through life, becoming stronger, more confident, and finally feeling as if she was worthy of her husband’s love.

  She took a breath to clear her head and took in the warm tones of her room, the white trim, and the floor-to-ceiling windows in the pocket doors that could transform the bedroom into a veranda on a whim. This was new, and her son Neil had taken it upon himself to change this bedroom into a paradise while Becky was recovering from her stroke in the rehab center. It was comfortable and nice—and because it was Neil’s idea, as always, it was over the top.

  She took in the ivy green sectional, the ottoman, and the large flat screen mounted to the wall. She had teased Rodney that their large bed was made for a king, but to her, Rodney was a king, not just for who he was but because he had stayed with her and worked on their marriage, loving her for her.

  Rodney wasn’t a saint. He was rough around the edges, and he’d made his share of mistakes, her tall, dark-haired, devastatingly handsome man. At times in his younger days, she’d teased him about what a stick in the mud he could be, so set in his ways. He was cocky, arrogant, confident, and there hadn’t been a woman around who didn’t try to get his attention. He was the son of a wealthy rancher, a senator, a rodeo star. He had been everything to her, as only a young girl with starry eyes could see him.

  Rodney had always known what he wanted. Anyone who paid attention could see that. It was in his walk, the way he took in what was going on around him and everyone he was with. He was brilliant. Even at such a young age, as a young man of nineteen, he had known there was more to people than what they said. She didn’t know that at the time, but then, everything she’d learned now from her years of struggles allowed her to see how truly special her husband was.

  Rodney was the eldest Friessen son. He was a hard worker who made a success out of everything he did: the cattle ranching, his time in the rodeo. He had set eyes on Becky for the first time when they went to the same school, Berkley. She’d heard he was in the rodeo, and she remembered their first date, when she had tagged along with him to the rodeo grounds. He’d ended up facedown in the dirt, scrambling to get out from under a bucking bronco after making his time. He had been amazing.

  She remembered it as if it were yesterday. The blueness of his eyes had made her heart skip a beat in her slender chest. Her throat had squeezed at something in his expression that she couldn’t put her finger on. His powerful eyes had been set on her. Maybe that was what had made women from everywhere want him. She sure as hell had. He was heart stopping, the best-looking man she’d ever seen, with a body she had wanted to step closer to. The way he moved, his slim hips and long legs…even his deep red checked shirt hadn’t been able to hide his chest and shoulders. Rodney Friessen had grabbed her attention.

  She’d been sitting on a worn bench, wearing a yellow sundress, watching him. A white sunhat perched on her head, her waist-length hair flowing in soft waves. He glanced her way, then looked once, twice, three times. There was no mistaking it: He’d noticed her. Then he had dug in with each step and walked towards her. It had been a moment in time she’d never forget, burned into her memories. That had been their first date—and the moment she realized she had to have Rodney, that he was the one.

  “There you are,” her husband’s deep voice called out behind her. “Your nurse is downstairs, ready to go for the day. Are you sure you don’t need her to stay?”

  She had to blink as her memories flashed from a young, dashing Rodney to her tall, older husband. She swore the man was even more handsome today than he’d been forty-five years earlier. How was it possible for a man to have aged better than a woman? His eyes softened as he stepped closer, resting his large hands on his hips, his gold band flashing on his finger. Then he touched her where she sat in the easy chair, another of Neil’s new additions.

  Rodney didn’t pull away, instead running his large hand over her shoulder and leaning down to kiss her cheek. She pressed her hand over his, maybe to hold him there. She loved his touch and didn’t want him to walk away.

  “I’m good,” she said. The words were coming easier, not as slurred and unclear, but then, she’d fought an aging body and a debilitating stroke that had left her with paralysis on one side. Her mind had remained clear, but she was stuck in a body that didn’t want to work. It had been so hard in the beginning, because in her mind, she was still that young, beautiful girl who had stolen Rodney Friessen’s heart. Only when she caught a glimpse of the old woman in the mirror staring back at her did the icy reality crash in.

  “You sure? This is your first day home.” He was worried. She could see it in his expression even though they’d both wanted this for so long.

  She patted his hand again and then forced herself to slip to the edge of the chair and push herself up. She reached for the cane as she stood, willing her body to move as she once had. Rodney, of course, didn’t let her go but instead held on to her, helping her stand up.

  “Don’t look so worried. I’m stronger than you think,” she said. This was the man she’d married, and she couldn’t imagine spending another moment away from him. At the same time, she didn’t want him playing nursemaid to her—to see her as useless, frail, and weak. “I wouldn’t be home if I couldn’t look after myself. You know that. Now why don’t you take me downstairs so I can talk to my son about his need to redo our bedroom?”

  “You don’t like it?” He was still holding on to her, and she loved his touch as a husband, not as a man worried she couldn’t keep herself together. “I wanted you to have a space you’re comfortable in. I wasn’t sure…”

  What was he going to say? Was he expecting the nurse he hired to sit up here all day with her? She hoped not. Although she liked Nola, she needed to look after herself. She had struggled to bathe and dress herself for weeks, and she’d be dammed if anyone would treat her like
a child incapable of tending to her personal needs. It was degrading, that’s what it was. She wouldn’t have come home if that were the case. Maybe Rodney needed to understand that.

  “Rodney, my love.” She reached up and patted his cheek, taking in her wrinkled hand and the dull gold band still on her finger, the same one she’d worn for almost forty-five years from the day Rodney had slipped it on her finger. She didn’t think she could get it off now even if she wanted to. “Stop worrying so much. I’m home, and I don’t need Nola hovering over me as if I’m going to fall at any moment. This change…” She took in the newly renovated bedroom and the sheer curtains that fluttered when a breeze swept in. “It’s lovely. Now let’s go.”

  When she slipped her hand on his arm, he gave her a look as if he didn’t quite believe her, but at least this time he started walking with her to the door. His hand latched over hers to hold her to him.

  “So tell me, when are all my children arriving?” she asked. They made it to the top of the stairs, and she focused on the circular stone steps. At one time, she’d loved the deep orange tile, but going up and down these stairs now was better than an aerobics workout at the nearest gym.

  “Surprise!”

  She nearly dropped her cane at the chorus of voices, looking down into the open foyer where her grown boys, their wives, and her seven grandkids were waiting. “You’re here already! Oh, this is wonderful.”

  One, two, three—she counted them again: Brad, Jed, and Neil with Cat sitting on his shoulders. Her daughter-in-laws, Emily, Diana, and Candy, stood with their husbands, each with an eye on their children, her grandkids. There was something about each one of them, something in their tired, distracted expressions, that Becky recognized all too well. Each woman was holding on to something.

  Chapter 2

  “Like I told your father, I’m fine. Stop hovering,” Becky said. Neil had to be the worst of her children when it came to worrying about her. Not that Brad and Jed hadn’t done their share. Her children, her boys, were strong and good looking, just like their father in their own ways, but each as different as the next. At least Neil had started to relax somewhat. She could see this in the way he dressed. He had swapped out the tailored suits he always wore for black cargo shorts today, and his shirt and tie were also gone.

  She hadn’t seen him dressed up in so long. Even when he’d visited her at rehab, she often saw him in a plain cotton shirt or a simple plain T-shirt. Even his neatly shaven look and short dark hair had changed to a longer style, just brushing his ears, and a five o’clock shadow. It was a look she’d never seen on Neil before. No, it was more like Jed, her youngest, the one who’d insisted on going out on his own and making his own way without any help from his family. He was independent, stubborn. She’d almost lost him.

  “I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” He was standing in front of her, looking down on her, his hands on his slim hips.

  Becky sat in the easy chair, the leather rustling when she moved. The living room was impressive. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved this room, with its high ceiling, stone fireplace, shades of brown that were almost orange, windows that filled it with light, and the plants that gave it so much life. She squeezed her cane and rested it against the oak side table, the corners of which she suddenly realized weren’t suitable for her grandkids.

  “Mom, did you hear me?” Neil was still there, and Becky took a breath and glanced up at him.

  “Sit down, Neil. I’m not deaf. I’m wondering if you’ve considered replacing the tables in here.”

  He seemed at a loss as he stared at her, taking a slow, measured look around as if he couldn’t understand what she was talking about.

  “Your mom is talking about baby proofing, Neil.” Candy, his wife, had perfect curves and gorgeous long dark hair. She, too, was barefoot, wearing black shorts and a floral tank top as she carried their six-month-old baby boy, Michael, who would be crawling soon—and then pulling himself up on the coffee table and falling against one of those sharp corners... No, those tables had to go.

  “Baby proofing, why do we need to worry about that now?” Neil leaned down and kissed Candy as she passed him Michael, who was kicking his legs and giggling. Neil raised him above his head and gave him a noisy kiss on his cheek before cuddling him. Becky could see how Neil’s son was kicking his legs, bouncing on his hip. Michel would probably be walking before he was a year old.

  “How are you feeling, Becky? Can I get you anything?” Candy leaned down and rubbed her arm. Her soft brown eyes were filled with blooming confidence. It seemed, as the days passed, that the terrified young woman who didn’t know how to fit in to their world or be Neil’s wife was coming into herself.

  “You don’t need to wait on me, either, Candy. Where is everyone?” She could hear voices coming from the kitchen and others maybe from outside. It seemed quiet in here with just Neil and Candy. She noticed the exchanged glance between husband and wife. Obviously, something was going on.

  “Everyone is out back, and I don’t mind waiting on you,” Candy said. “This is your first time home since the stroke. We just don’t want you to overdo it or to be overwhelmed.” She glanced at Neil again.

  Becky knew something had been discussed, and someone needed to fill her in. “Overwhelmed? Good grief. How could I be overwhelmed being home and with my family? I’m certainly not going to overdo it. I worked hard to get back here, to do for myself, and I won’t be treated like an invalid, either. I know my limits. Now where is the rest of my family? They flew all this way and then scattered as soon as I made it down the stairs. They barely said hi.”

  But that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t missed how Brad, Neil, and Jed hovered on the steps, waiting to catch her if she fell. All eyes had been on her as she walked with her cane, one hand on Rodney’s arm as he led her through the foyer and down the two steps into the sunken living room.

  “Dad said he didn’t want you getting overwhelmed, that you’d just gotten home and asked for everyone to go outside and give you some space,” Neil said. He looked to Candy again. “I think Jed and Brad are in the pool with the kids.”

  The pool had been used less and less since the storm. Maybe she’d get back into swimming, too. That would certainly help along with her physical therapy.

  She noticed how different Candy and Neil were with each other now. It seemed as if there was something solid where there hadn’t been before. What was it about them that appeared stronger, closer? Before her stroke, she’d worried about whether Candy and Neil would make it. They had been so unsuited at one time. The deception, what Neil had done with that surrogate, lying to Candy when Michael was really his…Becky had wanted to say something to the two of them, take them aside, but her better sense had kicked in. This was their fight, and only they could work it out, just like she and Rodney had.

  “Well, you tell your dad that I don’t need anyone keeping my family away from me. Or maybe I need to go outside and tell him myself.” She reached for her cane and started to get up, determined to put an end to this nonsense. The last thing she wanted was anyone, especially her husband, treating her as an invalid.

  “No, Mom, stay there.” Neil sounded almost frantic, and she could see that pushing him wasn’t going to get him to stop worrying about her. “I’ll go talk to Dad.” He gave Candy a look, and she nodded, her expression guarded as if she understood his concern. He left with their baby.

  “So what is that about?” Becky asked her daughter-in-law, who was still standing beside her. She gestured to the sofa. “Sit down, Candy. You’re making me crane my neck to look all the way up at you.”

  “Sure,” Candy replied. She curled her legs under her on the sofa, leaning on the arm, and smiled over at Becky.

  “You and I haven’t had much of a chance to talk.”

  Candy lowered her hand and smoothed her palm over the floral pattern on the cushions. Becky knew she loved the colors, the cherry red with green leaves and the cream backgro
und. It really added something to this room. “We were so worried about you.”

  “And I was worried about you and my son,” Becky said, wondering when the best time would be to talk to Candy, woman to woman, about where she and Neil were as a couple.

  Candy looked up, and for a moment there was surprise in her expression before she glanced over her shoulder to the doorway. “We’re good. You don’t need to worry about us.”

  Becky sighed. “I stayed out of it even though I wanted to sit you both down and talk to you…before the stroke. Afterward, it was so frustrating having to rely on Rodney. So much of what I wanted to say, I couldn’t get the words out. But you two now seem happy, maybe content?”

  Becky knew, by the way Candy was looking at her, that she was remembering the secret Rodney had shared, her indiscretion at a time when she believed nothing would ever work out.

  “Yes, I suppose you and Rodney gave me a lot to think about,” she replied. “I could see past my own hurt after that. I love Neil, and that will never change. I just never expected…I don’t know, Becky. Hearing about your troubles when you were young, about how you and Rodney made that choice to make it work and find a way to stay together, it helped. When your dad threatened to take you and the kids away if Rodney couldn’t make him understand all the ways he loved you…I can’t imagine the heartache you were both suffering at that time. You’re so strong, and listening to Rodney tell me your story shook me up and made me really think about Neil and our family. I actually sat down and made a list myself.”

  “Oh, really? That sounds good. It is, isn’t it?”

  “Well, it made me really think. Neil is such a wonderful man. He was my everything until I got that letter from the surrogate and found out that Michael was actually his. My trust was destroyed. How can you rebuild after that? I didn’t think it was possible to ever trust him again, and that hurt more than anything.”