This Time Forever

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  They rounded up a few of the neighbor men to help carry the piano into Mickelle’s living room. She had to push Riley’s easy chair over by the couch to make it fit, but it looked wonderful.

  “Thank you so much!” Mickelle ran her fingers over the white keys.

  “It’ll need tuning in four weeks or so when it settles,” Irene said. “And you’ll need this.” She pulled out a book from the bench. “It’s an adult all-in-one course. You teach yourself.”

  Mickelle didn’t know what to say.

  “Can I take lessons, Mom?” Jeremy asked eagerly.

  Bryan played a few notes. “Me, too.”

  “We might be able to swing it.” Mickelle thought that with the life insurance money and the social security she would be getting, it might be possible to afford a few extras.

  Her heart swelling with thankfulness, she began to play “The Entertainer.”

  * * * * *

  On Sunday, Mickelle took the boys to church for the first time since Riley died. Everyone greeted them with kindness and love, and more than a few stopped to ask how they were doing. “I wish they’d quit asking,” Bryan muttered. Jeremy nodded in agreement, but Mickelle was gratified to know people cared.

  During the meeting everything appeared eerily normal—as though life hadn’t changed in the least. Sister Sunberg who normally sat in the middle row across from Mickelle still jiggled her colicky newborn daughter constantly during the service. In front of her was Brother Chatham, whose head jerked as he began to doze soon after the second hymn was over. Near the front on the left were the six Reeves boys, who poked at each other and made faces behind their parents’ back. Jeremy and Bryan sat on Mickelle’s left, as they always did. The only difference was that Riley’s space on her right was empty.

  The first speaker gave an interesting talk and bore strong testimony. A few people nodded in agreement or had tears in their eyes. The congregation sang a familiar hymn with feeling.

  Sister Sunberg passed the baby to her husband, who continued to bounce the infant. To pause even for a moment would bring a wailing cry. Brother Chatham gave a snort and jerked himself awake, to the delight of the other Sunberg children. The older Reeves boy pulled the hair of the girl in the row in front of him, while the youngest gawked at a newlywed couple in the seat behind, who stared deeply into each other’s eyes, ignoring the service completely.

  The vacant space next to Mickelle seemed to scream for attention.

  She joined in a congregational hymn and then listened to the second speaker talk about how to become part of an eternal family. She held Jeremy’s hand.

  Up and down went the Sunberg baby.

  Mickelle’s eyes were drawn again to the seat beside her. A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

  * * * * *

  Monday morning, after Mickelle got the boys off to school and changed the sheets on Jeremy’s bed, she showered and readied herself for her appointment at Mount Timpanogos Women’s Health Care. The sky was overcast, and she fought a feeling of impending doom.

  “Depression,” she told herself as she looked out the window. Her voice sounded loud in the quiet of the kitchen. She’d been reading books about dealing with suicide and depression, and recognizing her emotions for what they were helped her deal with them, but today she was finding life particularly difficult.

  Her appointment was at eleven, so she had plenty of time to put the house in order and read the mail. One of the letters quickly drew her attention. It was from the company who carried Riley’s life insurance policy. She eagerly tore it open, hoping it was a check. Funds had been tight during the past weeks, and without contributions from her family and neighbors, she wouldn’t have been able to pay her bills at all.

  There was no check, just a letter saying something about a “suicide clause.” Mickelle felt her pulse race in her ears. She remembered something about that now. Did the fact that Riley had killed himself preclude her from receiving the money? Tears came so fast that she couldn’t read the rest of the letter. Instead, she called her father at his real estate office.

  “Calm down,” he said gently. “Tell me more slowly.”

  She explained about the letter. “It seems like I won’t get the money.” She had already lost the money invested in Riley’s truck since it hadn’t been fully insured, and who knew how long it would be before the first social security check would arrive? What would she do?

  “Look, don’t do anything now,” her father said. “I seem to remember there’s usually a time limit on the suicide clause. Let me check into it, okay? I’ll be free to come over in about an hour.”

  “I won’t be home. I have an appointment.” Mickelle wasn’t ready to tell him where, and he must have sensed her reluctance because he didn’t ask.

  “Just leave your policy and the letter on the table, and I’ll look at it. I still have the key you gave me.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “And, Mickelle . . .”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. No matter what, you are not in this alone.”

  That meant more to her than anything. “I know that,” she whispered.

  When Mickelle hung up the phone she was shaking, but in control of her emotions. She set aside the letter and went out to her garden. The peas she had planted in March were beginning to ripen, and she pulled a few pods off the vine, opened them, and ate the firm peas with relish. Then she chewed on a pod, enjoying the sweet juices before burying the rest in the soil. The day was still overcast and gloomy, but she felt better.

  As she drove to her appointment a short time later, a queasy feeling began in her stomach—not surprising given her condition, but unsettling nonetheless. She walked into the building feeling a little out of place among the younger women in the waiting room. Most looked pregnant with a first or second child.

  They took a urine sample and asked her to return to the waiting room. Instead of chafing at the delay, Mickelle thought of her daughter and began trying out names. She also imagined the expression on the boys’ faces when she told them her surprise. They would be so excited!

  She was soon called in to see a midwife. The slightly plump woman had short brown hair and was of average height. Her kind face encouraged trust. Mickelle felt content with her choice to come to the midwives for her care.

  Then she was given the results of her test.

  Negative.

  Mickelle couldn’t believe it. She was three weeks late!

  In her exam, the midwife could find no sign of pregnancy. “Perhaps you’re simply not as far along as you think,” she suggested. “We could do a blood test. Or wait a few more weeks and do another test.”

  A sinking feeling began in Mickelle’s chest, but she fought her despair. “Isn’t there any way to know right now? For sure?” She felt that her life would end at that moment if she didn’t know. She couldn’t wait another day, hoping against hope. “I’m thirty-six-years old, and my husband died a little over two weeks ago. I can’t go home not knowing. Please!”

  The midwife was visibly touched by her desperate plea. “We could tell by an ultrasound, but I don’t know if they have any free time.” Her hand rested sympathetically on Mickelle’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

  Mickelle waited, feeling her life hanging in the balance.

  The midwife returned, smiling. “Someone hasn’t shown up yet for their ultrasound, so they’ll work you in.”

  The negative outcome was shortly verified. The midwife offered comforting words and suggested a checkup if her period didn’t begin soon, but Mickelle barely heard her. She stumbled from the office, using every bit of strength she could muster to avoid falling into an abject heap on the floor. Once in the car, she drove to the far side of the parking lot where there were no cars. Crossing her arms over the steering wheel and resting her head against them, she allowed the deep sobs in her breast to break free.

  There was no daughter.

  There was nothing.

/>   No hope at all.

  Time passed, and her grief refused to be quenched. She wondered if she would cry forever. This is all your fault, Riley! It felt good to blame someone.

  A knock on her window startled her. She looked up to see Brionney’s concerned face. Mickelle unlocked the door, and her sister slid inside the over-warm car.

  “What happened?”

  “How did you find me?” Mickelle said through her tears.

  “I waited at your house to hear how the appointment went, but you never came back. I decided to come see if you were still here. What’s happened?”

  Mickelle drew a shuddering breath. “I’m not pregnant. I’m just late or something. Maybe from stress.”

  “Oh, Mickelle!” Brionney hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry!”

  Tears made her vision dim. “But I saw her! The night of Riley’s funeral. I saw my daughter! She even had Riley’s dark hair. Now there’s no chance at all.”

  “I’m so very sorry, Mickelle,” Brionney repeated. Mickelle could tell by her sister’s voice that she felt helpless to assuage her pain.

  “Everything is wrong. Everything!” Mickelle couldn’t bear the agony any longer. First Riley had chickened out of their relationship by killing himself, then the life insurance had fallen through, and now her dearest dream had evaporated. All were gone.

  Mickelle felt more devastated than the day she had learned of her husband’s death. Riley had killed not only himself that day, but also her hope for their daughter.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rebekka liked almost everything about Utah. The peaceful house in Alpine was exceptionally large and beautiful, surrounded by lofty birch and black walnut trees and wide expanses of grass and flowers. The summer weather was perfect, and she was continually amazed at the sight of the clear blue sky unfettered by tall apartment buildings. Brionney was only fifteen minutes away in her new home in American Fork, and they saw each other often. Rebekka also savored the rare occasions she spent with Damon. Most of all, she was glad to have put some distance between herself and Marc.

  One of the negatives of living with the Wolfe family for nearly four months was that Tanner’s crush on her had become almost annoying. He turned moony-eyed the minute Rebekka walked into the room, and he monopolized every second of her attention until she wanted to scream for privacy. She longed for school to start next week, the last part of August, so she would have room to breathe.

  “Go play with your friends,” she constantly urged her ubiquitous shadow. But he chose to stay with her. His friends didn’t seem to mind coming to the house instead, and they occupied themselves at the tennis court or in one of the two swimming pools.

  There’s something to be said for being rich, she thought. At least his father’s wealth made Tanner happy. He could keep his friends busy and still maintain his crush on her with minimal effort.

  Belle was a different story. She spent her days trying to avoid Rebekka, and seemed bent on chasing her out of the country and especially away from her father. The little girl thwarted her authority at every turn and refused to allow Rebekka into her heart.

  “I don’t know what I did to make her hate me so much,” Rebekka confided to Brionney the Thursday before the children’s school started. Damon had come home at the agreed-upon hour of six-thirty, leaving Rebekka free for the rest of the evening. She would have liked to stay with him and talk, but Belle had somehow arranged to have him read to her alone in her bedroom. “It’s like she doesn’t want me around at all.”

  “She’ll get used to you.” Brionney picked up one of the twins, who was babbling loudly. “She’s probably still having a hard time adjusting.”

  Rebekka grimaced. “It’s been four months. Frankly, I think it’s time I look for another job. I mean, as soon as Damon finds someone else for the children. Once I’m not her nanny, maybe Belle will start to like me.”

  “Oh.” Brionney smiled noticeably. “Does that mean you’re interested in Damon?”

  Rebekka felt color rise to her face. “He’s nice. I really like him. But I’ve lived with them for almost four months now, and I hardly see him. He leaves at an indecent hour, like at four the in morning or something, and when he comes home, he’s mostly alone with the kids. I couldn’t tell you if we were actually compatible. We only exchange a few words now and then.”

  “Tell me about it,” Brionney said, rolling her eyes. “Jesse leaves early too, and when he comes home, I can tell his mind is still at work.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that. When Damon comes home, Belle makes sure I don’t stick around, and she gets whatever she wants. Now she’s decided she wants a horse, and Damon is looking into buying the pasture next to the house. How can a child that young be so manipulative?”

  Brionney smiled. “They manage.” She tickled the baby in her arms. “This one here knows all about that. Don’t you, Forest? Don’t you?”

  The eleven-month-old gave them an open-mouthed giggle. His twin, Gabriel, looked up from across the room and then returned to playing blocks with his sister, Rosalie.

  “So even if I liked Damon, there are still his kids to consider. I mean, I never thought dealing with children would be so hard. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a mom.”

  That sent Brionney into a fit of laughter. “I tell you, it’s different with your own kids. You get them one at time as babies”—she glanced at the twins—“well, mostly one at a time, and you sort of grow together.”

  “I hope so. All I know is that Belle hates me, and she doesn’t want me anywhere near her father. And Tanner follows me just about everywhere. I’m afraid one of these days he’s going to try to kiss me.”

  Brionney’s eyes twinkled. “There’s less of an age gap between you and him than there is between you and Damon.”

  “That’s a totally different thing! He’s just a kid.”

  “I know, but it is kind of funny.”

  “I guess,” Rebekka said glumly.

  “Anyway, Jesse says the end is coming. I mean the end of the push and the overtime. They’re going to contract with another software company to handle the foreign end of the business. That means they’re going to tailor Jesse’s program for hospitals in France and a few other countries. It’s supposed to make a lot of money.”

  Rebekka frowned. “There has to be a point where money isn’t worth it anymore. I mean, you can’t sacrifice your family for money.” Not even her father had done that.

  “Exactly.” Brionney kissed Forest and set him on the floor. He immediately crawled over to his siblings and knocked down their blocks. Over a chorus of indignant wails, Brionney continued, “Jesse and I have talked about this a million times. He has a tendency to work too long and too hard, but he’s controlled it quite well. We’ve actually had him quite a lot the past few years, so for these few months we can sacrifice some time. By next month, he says he’ll be home by five every day. And by next year, we’ll have enough money for him to be able to take off just about whenever he likes. I can live with that.”

  “Yeah, but Damon already has so much money. Why does he need more?”

  “He doesn’t. But he likes business.” Brionney’s voice lowered. “To tell you the truth, I think he’s lonely.”

  Rebekka grimaced. She knew all about that.

  “I think he needs a wife even more than those kids need a mom. I guess that’s why I asked if you like Damon. I mean, if you do, then I won’t try to set him up with my sister.”

  “Your sister?” Despite her resolve not to force herself on Damon, Rebekka felt a twinge of jealousy. “How’s she doing?”

  Brionney gave a long sigh and tucked her chin-length blond hair behind her ear. “Honestly, I don’t know. To talk with her she seems all right, but every time I see her she’s wearing black like she’s in mourning. She’s also been having anxiety attacks that haven’t gone away like the doctor promised. She only goes to church occasionally, and she asked to be released from her nursery calling. I think it hurts too
much for her to see those little kids, knowing she wasn’t going to have another baby. As for her boys, Bryan seems to be angry all the time, and Jeremy’s problem of bed-wetting a few times a week has turned into an every night thing. I know Mickelle is overwhelmed, but she won’t admit it. I think she’s stopped living.”

  Suddenly, Rebekka’s own problems came into perspective. “That’s so sad. Is there anything we can do?”

  Brionney shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Try to set her up with Damon if you think it’ll do any good. Not that he’ll agree if her name isn’t Belle or work. You’ll have to hit him over the head with it. You know, sometimes he reminds me of Marc.” At the mention of the name, Rebekka’s heart tightened and tears pricked behind her eyes. She took a deep breath.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Brionney said softly. “Marc’s the real reason you aren’t going after Damon. You still miss him.”

  Clenching her jaw, Rebekka nodded slowly. “Terribly. He e-mails me all the time, but I haven’t talked to him in person. It hurts too much.” She looked pleadingly at Brionney. “Why do I have to love him? Why did I fall for a man who sees me as a child?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did. At least you’re doing something about it. There are other fish in the sea.”

  Rebekka snorted. “First Marc and now Damon.”

  “What?” Brionney leaned forward.

  Rebekka stood. “Nothing. I guess I’ll be getting back. I always receive an e-mail from my brother on Thursdays. I think he’ll have news for me. He’s been ready to propose to his girlfriend for months, but her parents are upset because he wants her to be baptized first.”

  “Sounds like a mess.”

  “It is.” But at least they’re both in love.

  Brionney walked with her to the door. “You want to do something on Saturday? Jesse promised me he’d spend some time with the kids so I could get out.”

  “Well, I’m not working. A neighbor girl watches Belle on Saturdays if Damon has to work. But I don’t know. I’ll give you a call, okay?”