Bridge to Forever

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  As though somehow knowing how he felt, his grandfather set Jeremy down and slung a companionable arm around Bryan’s shoulder. “We just finished fixing the door. Wasn’t too hard. Before that we put in the new glass I bought earlier for your mother’s window. Couldn’t have done it without him.”

  Jeremy stared at Bryan with a mixture of envy and admiration. “Cool.”

  The proud smile on Bryan’s face died when he saw Damon moving down the hall. “Hello, Terrell,” Damon greeted. He smiled at the older man, and then his gaze slid past to Bryan, seeming to bore into his heart.

  He knows, Bryan thought. Aunt Brionney told him.

  Belle and her new friend had arrived with Damon, and Belle’s voice filled the space in between them. “Hello, Grandpa!” Since Belle didn’t have any living grandparents of her own, she had adopted Bryan’s upon first sight. At first it had bothered Bryan, but when he saw how it pleased his grandparents, he’d changed his mind.

  “Hello, Belle,” Grandpa said, lifting Belle the way he had Jeremy. “Who’s this?”

  “She’s Jennie Anne.” Belle turned to her friend. “Jennie Anne, this is Grandpa. We don’t call him by any other name, so you have to call him that, too. You don’t mind, do you, Grandpa?”

  “’Course not.” Terrell shook Jennie Anne’s hand. She was smiling, but when she glanced at Bryan her face froze, just as it had when he passed her the night before after he fought with his mother in the kitchen. The strange stillness made Bryan shiver. He looked away quickly. Creepy.

  “Hey, kids,” Damon said, “I think you had all better go feed Sasha. Maybe let her out to run around for a while. We won’t have the new pen up at the other house for a few days, and she’s going to get lonesome.”

  Bryan turned to go with the others, but Damon’s voice stopped him. “Not you, Bryan. Terrell and I need to have a talk with you.”

  Bryan gave Damon his best dirty look, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “What’s going on?” Grandpa asked.

  Damon sighed deeply and leaned against the wall in the hall. “Bryan got in a fight at school.”

  “It’s none of your business!” The words seemed to burst forth from Bryan’s lips without his permission.

  “Bryan!” Grandpa said sharply. “Please be respectful.”

  “This isn’t about me, Bryan,” Damon said. “This is about what happened to your mother last night and the fact that she can’t take any more problems right now.”

  “Then don’t tell her.”

  “I have to.”

  “What happened?” Grandpa asked Bryan.

  Bryan told his grandfather and was relieved when he nodded and said, “I can see why you got upset at that boy, but fighting is not the way to handle your emotions. You’ll have to be punished . . . grounded or something.”

  Bryan wanted to tell his grandfather that it really didn’t matter since Damon’s house was too far away for him to hang out with his regular friends anyway, but he only nodded. “Okay, I’ll be grounded. And I won’t do it again. I promise.” He meant it. He was mad at his mother, but he didn’t want to evoke that terrible sadness he had seen in her eyes yesterday, or the exhaustion he had glimpsed this morning.

  “I trust that you won’t do it again,” Terrell said.

  Damon’s eyes didn’t leave Bryan. “We still have to tell your mother.”

  Bryan scratched his jaw and felt the bruise near the bone where Chris had landed a deft punch. It didn’t hurt half as bad as the blows to his chest, but he wouldn’t tell that to his grandfather, or Damon.

  “Could we not tell her this once, or at least not right now?” Bryan asked.

  His grandfather and Damon looked at him and at each other for a few moments. They must have come to some understanding, because Grandpa nodded. “For now. At least not for a few days. But I don’t want to hear about this happening again. If you have a problem, you either work it out or go to an adult who can help.”

  Again Bryan nodded, relieved. He was angry at his mother for moving to Damon’s, and especially for agreeing to marry him, but she did look terrible this morning. And last night . . . no, he wouldn’t think about that.

  Bryan waited to hear what Damon would say, but he remained silent. After a while Grandpa began picking up his tools. “I’d best get home. I promised your grandmother I’d be home early.” He looked at Damon. “We’d like to come out to the house tomorrow to see Mickelle, if she’s feeling up to it.”

  “I’m sure she’d like that. I’ll let her know.”

  That was it? Bryan almost laughed at how easy it was to get out of the trouble he’d caused by fighting with Chris. Not that he would do it again. He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the bills wadded there. Things were looking up.

  “Get your stuff together, Bryan,” Damon said quietly. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

  As the men went down the hall together, Bryan turned back to his room to decide what clothes to take. When he’d finished filling two duffle bags and a large plastic sack, he walked out to the front porch. Damon was by the rose bushes, and Belle and Jennie Anne were practicing cartwheels on the lawn. Jeremy was nowhere in sight.

  “Who did this?” Damon reached down and lifted a handful of pink rose petals. “Someone deliberately tore these off.”

  Bryan swallowed with difficultly, suspecting this deed was as bad as fighting at school. Maybe worse. He would be grounded so long that he’d spend his eighteenth birthday in his room. He clenched his jaw, determined to remain silent.

  Belle came over from the lawn and took the petals from her father’s hand. “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry. I did it. I mean, not all. Some were already on the ground, like around these other bushes. But I was sitting here yesterday, and I was talking and thinking and playing that game, you know, ‘he loves me, loves me not.’ I had to get it right, see? I must have—boy that’s a lot of petals. I’m sorry. Do you think Mickelle will get mad? Can I buy her some more roses to make up for these?” There were tears in her eyes, and if Bryan weren’t so astonished, he would have laughed.

  Damon did laugh. “It’s okay, ma Belle. Turn off the waterworks. I’ll bet Mickelle’s done that flower thing a time or two. I’ve even done it myself. We can stop and get her a bouquet on the way home to make up for it. But don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t. I promise. Besides, I’ll bet dumb old Bryan here wouldn’t let me.” She stuck her tongue out at Bryan.

  “Belle!” Damon warned. “Get out to the car. Now!” He looked at Bryan. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to her, believe me.”

  Belle skipped over to the Lexus, but when Damon turned his back to talk to Jennie Anne, she winked. Bryan winked back and pretended to rub his nose to hide his smile.

  * * *

  Damon drove back to Alpine in relative silence. He wasn’t sure if he and Terrell had handled Bryan’s fighting at school severely enough, but what else could he do? He wasn’t sure exactly what discipline he should give the boy, or even if it was his right or duty. He felt it was, but something inside reminded him that he wasn’t Bryan’s father, no matter how much he wished that he was. Mickelle was the boy’s mother, though, and her feelings and desires toward her son had to be considered first.

  But I can’t tell her now. He would wait a few days until she was feeling stronger. It was unlikely that Bryan would do something similar before then. His repentance seemed to be real, though he continued to treat Damon with resentment. Damon tried to store the ugly thought away.

  “You know, we’re going to have to think about changing schools after the term,” he said as they turned into the driveway of Wolfe Estates. “Now that you no longer live in American Fork. It’s just too much driving for Mickelle.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  “Can Jennie Anne come?” Belle wanted to know.

  Bryan, of course, said nothing, but his glare deepened.

  “I don’t know. We’ll see.” Damon glanced at the child in question and saw t
hat she was staring at her hands in her lap, her jaw clenched unnaturally tight. “It’s still a long way off,” he added. At that Jennie Anne seemed to relax, but only slightly. Damon sighed, wishing Mickelle were there to ease this transition. He knew nothing about this homely little girl, except that she touched a core of protectiveness inside him that was as basic as the protectiveness he felt for his own family.

  When they entered the house, Mickelle was awake and sitting up talking with Cammy Warnock, the cook. Cammy was young and pretty, with long curly dark hair, lively brown eyes, and a ready smile. Like many good cooks who loved to sample their own wares, she was a bit round, and from the conversation, she was about to grow even more so.

  “I’ve been trying out a lot of low-fat recipes at home,” she was saying to Mickelle.

  “I hope you’ll try them out here,” Mickelle said. “We could all stand to eat better.”

  Cammy laughed, a high, clear sound. “Well, with the baby coming, I’m going to have to watch my weight.”

  “Congratulations, Cam!” Damon called from the kitchen. She’d worked for them before her marriage, and he had always called her by her first name. She still seemed too young to be married, and now she was having a baby. He glanced at Mickelle to see what effect this news had on her, but she was focused on the children.

  “Jeremy,” she said, hugging him. “Hi Bryan. Belle. I’ve been so lonely without you all today. Since I couldn’t get up, the day just dragged by. Jennie Anne—I’m so happy you could come over.”

  Jennie Anne gave a wide grin and her dark eyes sparkled. If Damon hadn’t been watching the child’s face, he wouldn’t have believed the transformation. Had he really thought this child homely?

  “These flowers are for you, Mickelle,” Belle said, proffering the two dozen pink roses they had stopped for on the way home. Her head bowed penitently. “To make up for the ones I tore off your bush. I’m sorry.”

  Mickelle looked relieved as she accepted the roses and breathed in their fragrance. “Thank you, Belle. I’m glad to know what happened. I saw all the petals there yesterday and I wondered.” She glanced at Bryan, and Damon wondered if she had suspected her son. That had been his first thought when he’d found the destruction. “Don’t worry,” Mickelle continued. “The flowers on the bush will grow back next year.”

  “That’s a relief.” Belle was all smiles again.

  “Bryan.” Mickelle held out a hand. “Come give me a hug.”

  The boy hefted the duffle bags and plastic sack in his hands. “Can’t I put this somewhere first?” Damon noticed that he kept his face averted, though he couldn’t see why. Other than a barely noticeable red mark on Bryan’s jaw, there didn’t seem to be any damage.

  Mickelle’s smile faltered only slightly. “Sure. Mrs. Mertz tells me there are two empty bedrooms in the same wing where Belle has her room.” She glanced at Damon and he nodded.

  “That’s really the best place,” he said. “There are more rooms in the north wing where Rebekka stayed—one even has an entire sitting room and small kitchenette—and there are quite a few more in the basement where Tan and Mrs. Mertz are sleeping, but it’s kind of far away.”

  “I’d feel better with them close.”

  He smiled at her teasingly. “Does that mean you’re going to sleep in my room?” He blinked innocently for emphasis. “So you’ll be close to check on them.”

  “I hadn’t even thought about it.” She lifted her chin. “I suppose I may as well sleep there, since you aren’t. Shall we help you pack?”

  Damon laughed heartily. “Why not?”

  “Is everyone staying for dinner?” Cammy inquired, her face bright at the prospect.

  “Yes, I guess we are.” He surveyed the group with satisfaction. It felt good to have them all here, even with Bryan glowering like that.

  During the few minutes they’d been talking, Jennie Anne had sidled closer to Mickelle. “Does it hurt?” she asked in an almost inaudible voice as she observed Mickelle’s bruised face in fascination.

  “Not anymore. At least not much.” Mickelle put her hand gently on the girl’s arm. “And the person who broke into my house last night is gone, and the police will catch him. That’s what they do with people who hurt others. They catch them and take them away—or sometimes they help them learn not to hurt others. But they aren’t allowed to do it again.”

  Jennie Anne’s eyes grew wide. “You called the police?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I hope they catch him,” Jennie Anne said vehemently.

  “They will.” Damon tried to sound sure, but Jennie Anne didn’t take her eyes from Mickelle’s face, as though mesmerized by the damage she found there.

  “Well, let’s go see the rooms.” Mickelle shrugged off her blanket.

  Damon helped her stand. “Do I need to carry you?”

  “No you don’t need to carry me!” But she leaned on him heavily all the same. Not that Damon was complaining. This was exactly where he wanted to be.

  He led them up the main staircase to the south wing. The boys’ new rooms were on the left with a splendid view of the backyard. Belle’s room was the first on the right, taking up the top part of one of the turrets.

  Damon showed the boys to their rooms and then took Mickelle to see Belle’s, arriving before the girls, who had dawdled on the stairs.

  Mickelle peeked inside. “Wow, Damon, this is really something!”

  Damon grinned. He’d hired a decorator specifically to make this space resemble a medieval castle. There was a canopied bed, a faux fireplace, stone facing on the wall, hanging tapestries, a rustic-looking wood floor with thick rugs, and lighting that resembled torches along the wall. Even the large wooden chest, the small table and chairs, and the bookshelves appeared authentic. Damon had been rather pleased with the result. Belle had been thrilled.

  “I always thought this place was a castle!” Mickelle exclaimed. “I love it!” He gave her an awkward little bow.

  As they were drawing away, the girls arrived and entered the room, ignoring them as though they didn’t exist. Mickelle returned to the door, and Damon followed her. “I want to see Jennie Anne’s reaction,” she whispered.

  Though the door was now partially shut, they could see Jennie Anne walking to the middle of the room where she stared slowly around her. A smile filled her thin face, and she clapped her hands. “Oh, Belle, it’s a princess room! It’s so perfect for you—you are a princess! You’re always so sweet and nice to me. I’m so, so glad you have a room like this.” Tears leaked from Jennie Anne’s eyes, and Damon felt an odd loss in his heart, one he couldn’t describe. Suddenly he wanted to make a room just like this for Jennie Anne. He glanced at Mickelle and saw a mirror of his emotion. As one, they looked back into the room.

  Belle watched her friend, puzzlement on her face. Then she threw her arms enthusiastically around Jennie Anne. “You deserve it too, Jennie Anne. I’ll give it to you! It can be yours—all of it—whenever you come over.”

  “Really?” Jennie Anne’s mouth gaped in amazement. “Do you mean it? We can share?”

  “Of course! We’ll both be princesses. Bear and Horse will be our servants.”

  “Your dad and Mickelle are the King and Queen, right?”

  “Yes, and my brother’s the prince and so is Jeremy. Not Bryan, though, he’s too mean. He can be an outlaw or something.”

  “Prince Jeremy,” Jennie Anne said softly. “He’s is nice.”

  “Then you can marry him. I’m going to marry Bryan.”

  “I thought you said he’s mean.”

  Belle smiled secretively. “He is, but not to me. I’m the only one he likes. We pretend not to like each other. It’s fun.”

  Damon raised his eyebrows at this. He didn’t put it past Belle to have Bryan wrapped around her finger like everyone else in her life, and obviously there was much he didn’t know about Bryan.

  “Let’s go,” Mickelle whispered.

  “Wait a minute.” Damo
n tapped on the door, opening it wider. “Hey, Belle, remember the rules.”

  The girls started, as though surprised. “Oh, yeah,” Belle said. “I forgot. He means we have to leave the door open. We always do when friends are over.”

  Damon shrugged at Mickelle’s questioning glance. “I like them to know that I could pass by at any moment to check on them. Keeps them honest.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  He led her down the hall. “Working in the hospital industry I’ve seen a lot of things that could have been avoided by a little intervention, from sexual abuse to accidents, and I like to keep tabs on things. Though I have to admit it’s a little difficult in a house this size.”

  As he spoke, he reached for the doorknob to the room next to Belle’s. “And here, my dear princess, is your suite.” He opened the door for Mickelle with a flourish.

  He watched as she stared at the large vaulted room that was furnished with a king-sized four-poster bed, a matching dresser, a few paintings, and a white marble dog. There was also a fireplace with an exquisite white wooden mantel built into the wall opposite the bed. He had always considered the paintings, the burgundy bedding, and even the fireplace a little feminine for his taste, but now with Mickelle standing there, it was perfect.

  “It’s very nice,” Mickelle offered.

  “There’s a sitting room too, through here, and closets over there, and the master bath.”

  She took it all in quietly. Too quietly.

  “Mickelle, is something wrong?” he asked anxiously.

  She shook her head, but the tears in her eyes denied her words.

  He turned her to face him, and touched a tear beneath her eye. Then he kissed the spot tenderly. “What is it?” Was it because he might not be able to give her another child? He had thought the baby stage was behind them, but apparently Mickelle had other ideas. He didn’t even know how he felt about that.

  I would give her anything, if I could. I like kids.

  “It’s just—” She broke off, hiccuped softly, and then said, “Everything is so wonderful! It may sound stupid, but I feel like Cinderella.”