This Time Forever

by Rachel Ann Nunes

Mickelle did a few scales, and then, almost of their own volition, her hands began to play “The Entertainer.” It had been the most difficult piece she had ever learned, and the only one she could remember completely. Her fingers were stiff, but gradually they loosened and played fewer wrong notes. At last, she played it once through without making one error.

  There was clapping behind her. Mickelle arose, startled. “Mom!”

  Irene smiled and walked over to the piano, giving her daughter a hug. Mickelle breathed in the perfumed scent of her short, carefully styled hair that was as white as a cloud against a deep blue sky. “That was wonderful, Mickelle. This poor old piano hasn’t had anyone playing it in a long time.” She sighed. “I remember when you and Zack used to play.”

  Mickelle laughed. “Zack played. I banged.”

  “No, you played. You were just impatient. Zack was more content to let a few wrong notes go by. You wanted it perfect.”

  “Yeah, I was a regular little Mozart,” she returned dryly, and was rewarded by Irene’s laugh.

  “Always my funny girl.” She squeezed Mickelle’s waist. “So, what brings you here this morning?” With a final embrace, Irene began walking toward the kitchen. Mickelle followed.

  “Oh, I just dropped by.”

  “You’re just in time to help me unload the groceries.”

  They went to the garage, where Irene’s car was crammed with plastic sacks. Mickelle groaned. “Don’t tell me you’ve already been shopping for Brionney’s homecoming.”

  Irene met her gaze sheepishly. “Well, yes.” Her laughter tinkled like bells reverberating from the sides of the garage. “She’ll be here before we know it. I want to be prepared.”

  “All of this could feed an army.” Mickelle hefted two plastic bags full of frozen meat. “Of course, in retrospect, we’re getting to be rather an army.”

  Irene picked up several more bags, her willowy figure stooping with the weight. “Let’s see. With Talia’s five, Lauren’s six, your two, and Brionney’s five, that makes eighteen grandchildren. Not bad at all. Of course, it would be more if Zack and his family were here.”

  Mickelle grimaced with exertion as she set her bags on the counter. Zack’s wife was expecting baby number five—probably another boy. They seemed to run in the family. Only Brionney had more than one daughter. Mickelle stared at the meat in the sacks, remembering her own secret hope. She wished she had the money to splurge on a pregnancy test, but she’d already purchased too many over the years, only to be disappointed. This time she would wait a few weeks.

  “Uh, Mom, I’ve been thinking about going back to school.”

  Irene paused in the doorway. “Really? What made you decide to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m bored. I’m looking for something more. If we had more children, maybe it’d be—” Mickelle stopped. Suddenly she was crying.

  Irene rushed to her side. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. No. Actually, Riley and I are having some trouble. His attitude since the surgery has been . . . well, he says things to me that he shouldn’t.”

  “Riley?” Irene looked puzzled. “But you always tell me how great you’re doing.”

  Mickelle began to sob loudly. Words tumbled out over each other as she told her mother the truth.

  Irene kept shaking her head in disbelief, unshed tears glimmering in her eyes. “Why didn’t I see? How could I not know?”

  “I didn’t even realize it myself,” Mickelle sniffled. “I—I’d forgotten what it’s like to be myself.” She looked at her mother pleadingly. “It’s one of the reasons I’ve got to go to school. I have to learn who I am. I’ve been Riley’s wife for so long that sometimes I don’t know how I used to feel. I don’t know what it is to be me.”

  Irene held Mickelle, stroking her hair as she had often done when she had been very young. “I think it’s a good idea. And I’ll support you. Whether it’s money you need, or watching the kids, I’m here for you.” The tears spilled out and over her cheeks. “Oh, Mickelle, I feel so stupid. How could I not have noticed how unhappy you were?”

  “Don’t blame yourself. I’m the one who let things get out of hand. I’m the one who chose to make excuses for him instead of standing up for what I believed.” After years of not understanding, it seemed so clear to Mickelle now.

  Irene dabbed at her face. “I wish you had told me before.”

  Mickelle laid her cheek against her mother’s. “I couldn’t. Now I can.”

  “You’ll get through this,” Irene whispered. “And I want to help.”

  “Thank you.”

  A little self-consciously, they dried their tears and brought in the rest of the groceries. As they did, they discussed Mickelle’s options. “I want to see if the university offers financial aid or scholarships or something,” Mickelle said. “Riley . . . well, he doesn’t really want me to go, and we don’t have the money for it.”

  Irene grabbed her hand. “I meant what I said about helping.”

  “I know, Mom, and you don’t know what it means to me to have that option. But I want to try it my way first. If I need to, I’ll ask for help. Maybe I could even work part time at Dad’s office. You know, like Brionney did before she married Jesse.”

  “The most important thing is to get Riley to counseling.”

  “I know. That’s why I don’t want to rush everything else.” Mickelle looked at her mother earnestly. “I believe Riley’s a good man. He just has his own issues to deal with. It might take a while, but we’re going to be all right.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Irene smiled with pride, but the sorrow in her expression was still evident. Mickelle wondered how she would feel if their positions were reversed, if Irene had been living with a man like Riley. Mickelle found she didn’t relish the idea. Her mother deserved to be cherished as she had been all these years by her father.

  So do I, she thought.

  Mickelle left her mother’s home feeling decidedly happier. How good it was to have things in the open, and a confidante to share both the good and the bad. She had broken the vicious cycle of secrecy. Things would work out—somehow.

  * * * * *

  Riley Hansen drove to work feeling very unsettled. He almost didn’t go to work at all, but that would mean seeing Mickelle’s cheerful face all day. How could she be so happy when his world was falling apart?

  Everything was slipping out of control. He’d experienced another seizure last night in the truck, his wife wanted who knew what, and his job sucked. His lips twisted in a wry grin. Mickelle hated it when he said something sucked.

  Not that he didn’t want her to be happy; it was just that things were changing too fast. He needed to get a handle on his life. But how? Turning up the radio, he tried to tune out his thoughts.

  Come to think of it, he hated the word suck—especially when the children used it. But it made him feel better now . . . a little rebellious.

  Mickelle was so beautiful, so loving and caring. He often wondered why she’d married him in the first place. Over the years, he sometimes worried that she would leave. And now she had finally come right out and admitted she would seek a divorce if he didn’t treat her better. But what was he doing wrong?

  Riley’s heart beat rapidly, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. He took in a ragged gasp of air. He couldn’t lose Mickelle! Sometimes he thought she was the only reason he continued to live.

  She said she loved him. Was it true? It had to be.

  I’ll do better, he vowed silently. I’ll do whatever she wants.

  A part of him that rebelled at this admission, but his love and need for his wife gradually overcame his darker thoughts. Mickelle seemed to believe there was hope for their relationship, and he had to at least try, though he didn’t understand her problem.

  The positive thoughts erased much of his unhappiness. He’d been at work for an hour when he decided to call Mickelle to tell her he loved her. She didn’t answer the phone. Where had she
gone? Was she outside or somewhere else? What was she doing? She should be there, he thought with gritted teeth. His breath came more rapidly. Fighting his anger, he returned to work.

  When he called her again after lunch, she finally answered. “I tried to call earlier,” he said. He knew his voice was accusing, but he couldn’t help it. Now she would be hurt, and that meant he would have to comfort her. Maybe not a bad thing after all.

  He was wrong. “I’m sorry I missed your call,” she answered cheerfully. “I’ve been at my mother’s and then at the college, looking into financial aid. So is something up? Why did you call?”

  Riley was astonished. Why wasn’t she resentful of his checking up on her? Just what had she been doing at that college, anyway?

  He couldn’t lose her.

  “I just called to say I love you,” he managed.

  “How sweet! I love you, too, Riley.” There was unfeigned happiness in her voice, and Riley’s terror diminished. “Hey, I was just thinking about going grocery shopping,” she added. “Is there anything special you’d like?”

  “No. Nothing.” He told her goodbye and hung up. Instead of being content at her words, he began to worry about who she might see at the grocery store. Would she leave him? Why was she acting so strangely?

  Riley put his head in his hands to fight a sudden onslaught of dizziness. Was he having another seizure? The thought scared him senseless.

  “You okay, Hansen?” It was his boss, Monte Williams.

  Dumb jerk. This is all your fault. If you’d given me the promotion instead of Greg, my life would be so much better. I detest you! He stood up, grateful that he was able to do so. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little tired.”

  “Good, because your department is looking shabby. Better get it straightened. There are two customers by the lawnmowers who need your help.”

  Riley wished he could tell the man where to go. “I’ll get right on it,” he said, making sure his voice held none of the venom that was in his heart.

  What a terrible day!

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rebekka had mentally packed her suitcases a million times over the week as she waited for Brionney to call. Everything was settled at work. She hadn’t talked with her family yet, but she would as soon as Brionney called.

  She hadn’t seen Marc since that fateful day when she had realized that he would never love her as she loved him. He’d called the apartment and had even come over a few times, but she’d either pretended to be out or indisposed. Her mother couldn’t understand her attitude, but accepted it at face value, as she did everything else.

  Rebekka went through the motions of living, sometimes feeling numb and other times enduring such agony of heart that she didn’t know if she would survive another day. Her dreams had vanished, and all she wanted to do was to run and hide, to lick her wounds until she was ready to face the world again.

  The world, but not Marc. She thought she might never be able to look into his eyes again, and if she couldn’t do that, what was the use of living at all?

  The only person who had an inkling of her plight was her only sibling Raoul, who was twenty-six, two years her senior. The week after Rebekka had made her horrendous discovery, Raoul answered the phone in the living room when Marc called. She refused to talk with him. “What do you want me to tell him?” Raoul asked.

  “I don’t care,” Rebekka said bleakly, “but I’m not talking to him.”

  Raoul made an excuse and hung up. He gazed at her sympathetically as she sat on the couch, clutching the Liahona. “So you know about Marc and Mom.”

  Rebekka stared at him for a few seconds. Raoul had her father’s broad shoulders and lean face, and her mother’s auburn hair—though a bit lighter—and also her gray eyes. The kindness in those eyes made a lump come to her throat. She nodded miserably. “Mom doesn’t know.”

  Raoul shrugged, coming to sit beside her. “Mom’s a perfect innocent. Nothing can touch her. I think she had to be that way to love Dad.”

  She knew what he meant. Despite the religion and values that separated them, Danielle loved their father deeply and totally. Over the years, he had learned to return that devotion. But he hadn’t always been so doting. Once he’d almost left her.

  Raoul touched her shoulder tentatively. “I’m really sorry. I know you like Marc.”

  She forced lightness into her voice. “Just a childish crush.” She turned her face away from him and added, “I’m not a child any longer.” To her disgust, her voice shook slightly. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  “The guy’s a fool,” Raoul replied. “Thirty-four years, and he hasn’t made any progress in his personal life. He should have moved on a long time ago.” He paused, and what he said next showed Rebekka that Raoul had not only heard but understood the tremor in her voice. “Like you’re doing.”

  She turned back toward him in surprise. “It’s so hard.”

  “I know.” He hugged her like he had when they were little and she had cried because she couldn’t tie her shoe. If only that were her problem now. Raoul gave her a final squeeze and stood. “I hope you know that I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” Rebekka did want to talk further, but she dared not put too much trust in her brother. He worked with Marc every day at their engineering firm; something might slip accidentally. She couldn’t bear for Marc to understand her true feelings now, when it was too late.

  “Are you going out with Desirée tonight?” she asked, noticing that he was dressed in his Sunday best.

  Raoul grinned sheepishly. “Yeah.”

  “She’s a nice girl.” In fact, the only flaw Rebekka saw in the girl was that she wasn’t a member of their church. But that could change; she was very sweet and seemed serious about searching for the truth.

  “I know.” His face grew serious. “I don’t plan to let her get away.”

  “Good.”

  Rebekka watched him go with tears in her eyes. How she wished it could be her and Marc.

  But no! She couldn’t think that way. Somewhere there had to be someone who would love her for herself. Someone who wouldn’t pat her on the head and call her a pest.

  The phone rang, and she let the answering machine pick up, fearing that it was Marc again. She sat stiffly, waiting to see if the person on the other end would leave a message.

  “Hello, this is Brionney Hergarter. I’m calling to talk to—”

  Rebekka snatched the portable receiver from the charging unit. “Hi, Bri, I’m here.”

  “Good. How are you?”

  “All right.”

  “You don’t sound all right.”

  “Just stress. So what’s the news?”

  “We don’t have an exact date yet, but you can leave anytime. I would have called sooner, but we have some friends here whose baby has been terribly sick, and we’ve been holding off because of them, but she’s out of danger now. As soon as everything’s wrapped up, we’ll leave. Meanwhile, my mother said you could stay at her house until I get to Utah. She’s excited about having you. I had to remind her that you were my guest—but that was before something else came up.”

  “What do you mean? She can’t have me stay?”

  “No, no, not that. It’s just that I was wondering if you could help out a friend of ours—Damon, Jesse’s partner. He’s also moving to Utah, but his nanny doesn’t want to leave her family here in Anchorage. Damon’s five-year-old daughter, Belle, is upset because this nanny has been with them since Belle’s mother died two years ago. Damon’s looked around for another nanny, but so far he can’t find anyone suitable. So I—now, don’t hate me—I suggested you. Not for anything permanent, mind you; just temporarily until he can find someone in Utah that he can trust with his kids. There’s so much going on right now that he doesn’t have much time to find a good nanny. He promised Belle one she’d like, and he doesn’t want to let her down. He pays well, too. Do you think you’d be willing? I mean, I know it’s not what you expected, but after they find someone
else, you can come stay with me and teach French or something at the . . .”

  As Brionney talked, Rebekka considered. She imagined what it would be like to be needed by someone—anyone. Maybe taking care of these children was exactly what she needed. She wouldn’t have Marc, but in a way she would have a family of her own, something to keep her busy until she found another means of supporting herself.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’d be glad to help out until they find someone permanent.”

  “That’s wonderful! I don’t think you’ll regret it, although I probably will. I was looking forward to having you stay with me. But we can get together during the day. Tanner—that’s Damon’s older boy—will be in school though May, and you’ll only have Belle. You’ll have evenings off after Damon gets home. But, oh, you are just going to fall in love with little Isabelle. She’s very petite and beautiful. She can be a bit of a stinker sometimes, but she’s so cute, you have to forgive her.”

  Rebekka was imagining the little girl already. How she would enjoy dressing her up and taking her places! Of course, she really didn’t know much about children, but surely it couldn’t be any harder than double majoring in college.

  Or being rejected by Marc.

  She sighed inwardly and tried to listen to Brionney.

  “If you’ll tell me your flight number when you have it, I’ll have someone meet you at the airport in Salt Lake—probably my parents. You can stay with them until—”

  “Couldn’t I come to Alaska and help you?” Rebekka interrupted. “I mean, flying to Utah with five kids won’t be easy.”

  “What a wonderful idea! Of course, there’ll be seven children, actually, since Damon and his two are flying with us. Which is perfect, because then you can meet them. And I can use an extra hand with the twins—even with Jesse along.” She paused. “Oh, but that’s a much longer flight for you, and it’ll be more expensive.”

  Rebekka shrugged. “Money’s not an issue. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Alaska.”

  “Well, Damon’s already volunteered to pay for your flight to Utah, and I’m sure paying for an extra flight won’t be a problem. Like I told you before, the guy is loaded. And he’s really sweet.”