Rebekka glided to her feet with the gracefulness that was always hers. “Thank you for listening. If you need help with the girls, please let me know. I want to help.”
“They’ll be going to school next week,” he explained as they walked out the apartment door and into the hall. “And I’ll be going back to work. Since Marée only goes part-time, she’ll stay at day care until Ana finishes, and then at least for the first week or so, I’ll knock off early to pick them up. Maybe after a while I’ll need help for the few hours between the time they get out and I get off work. My mother has volunteered of course, and Marie-Thérèse and Josette, but I’m sure there’ll be enough to go around.” He smiled sympathetically. “Maybe by then you’ll know where you’re headed with Marc.”
“Thank you, André. I appreciate it. You’ve always been such a good friend.” She hugged him briefly and was gone.
André stared after her long after the automatic lights in the stairwell shut off. He prayed fervently that Marc would be all right and that Rebekka would be happy. Then he went into the apartment where the girls lay sleeping. Ana was no longer in her bed but had curled up with her sister. They looked like miniature Claire-angels. He had meant only to check on them and go to his own room, but all at once he couldn’t face the queen-size bed without Claire. Not yet. Instead, he let himself fall onto Ana’s bed. Tomorrow he would sleep in his own room, but tonight he needed to be with his girls.
Chapter Fifteen
Rebekka called her brother early the next morning from the transplant hospital. “Marc’s making me call you,” she said without preamble. “The doctor has forbidden him to do any more work from bed, so here is a list of people for you to call.”
“Hi Rebekka,” said Raoul. “And I love you, too. It’s good to hear your voice.”
She ignored him. “As you know, André won’t be in today, and that’s going to leave you—”
“Actually, André did come in this morning.”
“What!”
“Yeah, he got worried about a deal we’re working on. He’s been our main representative on it since I’ve been busy with another client, and he thought he should meet with them on-site.”
“But the girls—”
“They’re with him. André took along one of our secretaries to keep an eye on the girls in the car while he walks around the site. He came—”
“But—”
“—stocked with lots of snacks, books, and the like. You know, stuff kids need. And there’s a restaurant nearby if they need food.”
“He’s just lost his wife!” Rebekka felt angry at her brother for not being sensitive to André’s emotional state. Were work and the resulting profit so important that André couldn’t have time to grieve?
“It’s good for him,” Raoul said firmly. “He needs something to focus on right now, and I thought this would be the easiest thing for him—not a lot of time, but something to help him feel useful. That’s why I called him.”
“You called him?” Rebekka was aghast. “I can’t believe you’d do that. You’re an insensitive . . .” She struggled to find the right words.
“Easy, Rebekka. You know I’m your favorite brother.”
“You’re my only brother. And I think you should have given him time.”
“He’s a man. It’s what he needs,” Raoul insisted.
“I’ll remember that the next time you’re suffering.”
“Thank you.”
Oooh! she thought. Talking to Raoul is like talking to a wall. He should have stayed on his honeymoon with that flakey wife of his.
“At least Marc’s not part of your manly scheme,” she said. “I’m not going to lose him now because of some client. The doctor says no work and that’s exactly what Marc’s going to do. Nothing. Period. The only thing he’s going to do is play chess or read those stupid science fiction books everyone keeps bringing him.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking him,” Raoul assured her. “Besides, with the work he’s already done, and with what André’s taking care of, I can handle the rest. You and Marc can even take a nice long honeymoon.”
Don’t do me any favors, Rebekka wanted to retort, but she didn’t because she wasn’t really mad at her brother. Life was simply so uncertain at the moment. She desperately wished she could wind back the clock and marry Marc in Utah, and that André could have gotten Claire to the hospital on time.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Her side was hurting too, since she was standing at a payphone in the hospital, not willing to call from Marc’s room where he would insist on talking to Raoul himself. She was already breaking the doctor’s rules by passing on the information, but Marc had been so agitated that she had agreed.
“Rebekka,” Raoul’s voice was soft. “You take care of Marc and I’ll take care of André, okay? They’ll both be fine.”
“Okay,” she managed, gulping back the threatening tears. “And I love you.”
“I know. I love you too. Later.” He hung up the phone, and for some undefined reason, Rebekka felt better.
Chapter Sixteen
Two weeks dragged slowly by. Then a third. Physically Rebekka grew stronger each day, but she was emotionally drained. Marc’s condition continued to worsen, despite various medications.
She had finally let Danielle postpone their wedding, seeing as Marc was too ill to go anywhere, much less travel to a temple. Rebekka was terrified that she would lose him forever. Just when the walls of despair were close to burying her, the idea she’d had of marrying Marc in the hospital returned to her mind, lightening her mood.
She went to the transplant hospital on a Wednesday morning in better spirits. Marc was slumped in bed staring at the wall, the remains of his early breakfast still sitting on the counter.
“Hi, honey,” she said brightly.
He focused on her and smiled, but the happiness was forced. “Hi. I’m glad to see you.” He frowned. “It was a long night.”
She kissed him and with her hand smoothed the creases in his forehead. “You’re bored.” She knew him so well.
“I feel useless, that’s what. I just wish this would be over one way or the other.”
She must have made a sound or her torment must have been apparent in her face because Marc was immediately repentant. He squeezed her hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just sick of being here.”
Rebekka made her voice calm. “I understand. But you will get better. I know it. Come on,” she tugged on his hand, “the nurse said I could take you for a little stroll. It’s fairly warm out, but you’ll need a sweater.” She helped him into a sitting position before retrieving the navy argyle sweater from her bag.
“You’ve been to my apartment.”
She grinned. “You mean our apartment—or soon to be. I stayed there last night.” She wasn’t about to admit how she had slept on his bed, wetting his pillow with her tears; the knowledge would only distress him. “And before you ask, yes, you still have a plant on the kitchen windowsill.”
“You remembered to water it? Wow, now I’m impressed.”
She hesitated before replying, “I watered it today. Okay, so it was the first time and it was dead, but I planned to buy you a new one before you found out.” Her words made him laugh, which had been her intent. “You knew I wasn’t good with plants,” she added.
“Yeah.” His voice was warm, like the old Marc. He pulled her down to sit with him on the bed, hugging her. “I love you, Rebekka,” he murmured in her ear.
“Whew, and I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t marry me after all.”
He pulled back slightly, eyebrows raised in question.
She had been going to tell him her plan outside in the fresh air, but her idea couldn’t wait. “Marc, I want us to get married next week. If it has to be here in the hospital, so be it. That way we’ll be together no matter what.”
“You think I’m going to die.” His voice was even.
This w
as the reaction she had feared, and the reason she had not brought the suggestion up sooner. “Of course I don’t think you’re going to die. I just want to be your wife. Please, hear me out, Marc. I know we’ve always had the temple as our goal, and I’m not losing sight of that, not at all. But there’s no temple here in France—you know that as well as I do—and we’ll have to get married civilly first anyway before we can fly to Switzerland or Germany to be sealed. We’ve lived with that knowledge our whole lives. So why not get married in the hospital now and when you’re better in a few months we’ll take the first available plane to the temple? Waiting’s not a big deal, right? We both know people who’ve waited to be sealed because they couldn’t afford to travel to the temple—”
“You and I can afford it.”
Rebekka was beginning to feel desperate. “I know, but you’re sick! You’re worthy, but can’t physically make it to the temple—yet. It’s the same thing!”
He gripped her hands and stared earnestly into her eyes. “Rebekka, I want to marry you more than I can say. I lie awake at night thinking about it. But I want to be able to walk to my wedding, not have it here in the hospital. Then I want to fly to the temple immediately afterwards, papers in hand, to make our marriage official in the temple. I promised the Lord long ago that when I married, I would do just that. I really don’t feel that waiting to be sealed once we’re married is an option. Please try to understand. I love you more than life, but I can’t do what you’re asking.”
Rebekka looked defeated. “Well, then I guess we’ll have to wait until this bout of rejection eases.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“We’ll face that when we come to it. At least we’d be married!” She didn’t add that if he died she could still seal them in the temple, but what she meant was clear to both of them.
“I—I—” Marc suddenly turned a pasty white. “Rebekka, I don’t feel so well.”
Fear sliced through Rebekka’s heart. She pushed him gently into a reclining position on the bed before signaling the nurse with the call button.
The nurse immediately checked Marc’s vital signs. Clicking her tongue in worry, she gave him a shot and insisted Rebekka leave. “He really needs to rest now.”
Rebekka felt miserable, not only because of her fiancé’s failing health but because of his reaction to her grand idea. Logically, she could understand his objection to marrying in the hospital, but her terror at possibly losing him for eternity went beyond all reason. She wanted to spend happily ever after with him, to forever see him looking at her with that attractive grin and the gleaming brown eyes that so fascinated her.
Numbly, she returned to Marc’s apartment, wanting desperately to be with him, but also hurt at his reaction to her proposal. She ate a rye bread sandwich for an early lunch before falling asleep on Marc’s bed, wearing one of his old T-shirts. With her entire heart, she wished he could be with her.
Later a phone call pierced her awareness. Rebekka yawned, stretching carefully because of her still-tender abdomen, and picked it up. The clock on the nightstand read ten minutes after three in the afternoon.
Ariana’s voice sounded loud in the silence. “Marc’s been rushed into surgery. He’s had a violent case of rejection and they had to remove the kidney. They’re also putting in a permanent catheter in his neck so they can give him emergency dialysis.”
Rebekka’s heart pounded loudly and her hand shook so that she could barely hold the phone to her ear. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know.” For a moment, Ariana’s voice sounded forlorn. “But of course, he has to be all right,” she added firmly.
“Have you called Ukraine?”
“Jean-Marc’s doing that now. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”
“I guess we should have called Louis-Géralde home from the first,” Rebekka said bitterly. She began to sob. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing something good and now it’s all been for nothing.”
“It’s not your fault, Rebekka. You did a very wonderful thing. No one can help that he’s rejecting your kidney, or that he has trouble with dialysis. Many others endure dialysis for half their lives or more.”
Rebekka was still crying, but she held her hand over the phone so Ariana wouldn’t hear. Why, when Marc had finally recognized his love for her, did everything seem to be conspiring against them?
She was changing to go to the hospital when the doorbell rang. With surprise, she opened the door to André. He took in her red eyes and tear-streaked face and without hesitation, gathered her into his arms. The tears came again, but with André holding her shaking body, the pain was at least bearable.
“What if I lose him?” She met his eyes briefly before raising her face to the ceiling. “Please, dear God, don’t let me lose him now.”
“You’re not going to lose him,” André said. “But come, the girls are waiting in the car. I just picked them up from school.”
“Alone?” she was appalled. Marc’s apartment was in a commercialized section of town.
“No. Valerie, one of the secretaries from work, is with them.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Mom called. She said you needed help. Valerie, the girls, and I were headed off to do an on-site inspection, but it can wait. I’ll give you a lift to the hospital.”
“You shouldn’t have to be there.” The ache in Rebekka’s heart renewed for both herself and André, who had recently lost so much.
“Of course I should. He’s my brother.”
“What about the girls?”
“I was going to have Valerie take them home, but they want to stay with me. They’ll be all right. The whole family’s going to be there.”
Gratefully, Rebekka let him lead her out of the apartment, down the elevator, and out to his car. Once there, he introduced her to Valerie, a girl barely out of her teens with straight, shiny black hair, a wide smile, and hazel eyes. She was average height and size, and her features were also average, even plain, except for the charming smile, and for her eyes which were alive with such friendliness that Rebekka could hardly look away.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Valerie said as André introduced them. She grinned and her smile filled her face with warmth. “I mean, I’ve seen you around, but we were never introduced.”
Rebekka thought that meant Valerie was relatively new or her position far removed from Marc’s, who was not only a partner but CEO of the company.
“Pleased to meet you.”
Valerie bobbed slightly and then took a few steps back. “I’ll take the subway from here,” she told André. “It’s not far.”
“Thank you so much,” André said.
“You’re welcome. Any time you need me to help you with the girls, just ask. I really like them.” Valerie cast him another brilliant smile and was gone. For a moment, Rebekka felt a sense of jealously as her protectiveness rose to the surface. Was this girl out to snare André, who was vulnerable at this point in his life—with his wife scarcely dead a month?
Stop it, she told herself. So what if she is? She’s obviously a nice girl and she likes André’s children. Despite the family’s loyalty to Claire, the best thing for André and his little girls would be for him to remarry.
If Marc died, I would never remarry, she thought as she entered André’s car. Never.
What if he died before they married? Would she live her entire life alone? The thought was too terrible to bear.
“Are we almost there?” asked Ana, bringing Rebekka’s thoughts back to the car.
“Just a few moments more,” André replied.
“Is Uncle Marc going to heaven with Mommy?” Marée’s tiny voice trembled with the words.
Rebekka looked compassionately at the child. She wanted to tell her that Marc would not die—words Rebekka desperately wanted to hear herself—but she didn’t dare say something that might end up being a lie. These little girls had been through enough with their mother’s d
eath, and preparing them for any possibility was the only way Rebekka felt she could help them. But what should she say?
To her relief, André answered, “We don’t think so, but we don’t know yet. Whatever happens, the Lord will be with us. I promise you that. Everything will be okay.”
The girls looked trustingly at their father, faces sober but not tearful.
Once at the hospital, they had to wait another two hours before finally hearing that Marc had made it through surgery and was receiving emergency dialysis. “He should be feeling better afterwards,” Dr. Juppe told them. “With his history, I doubt we’ll be able to use dialysis as a long-term solution, but we can pray that it works until we can come up with an alternative.”
An alternative. Meaning another transplant.
“We’ve left a message to be delivered to our youngest son,” Ariana said. “He should be home soon.”
“I couldn’t imagine doing anything before a week or two anyway,” Dr. Juppe replied. “If that soon. He needs some time to recover. Of course, if we run into problems with the dialysis we may have to move forward anyway.”
The relief Rebekka had temporarily felt was overrun by terror. She began shaking so badly that she almost collapsed onto the sky blue carpet.
Making a sympathetic noise in his throat, André half-carried, half-led her to a couch. “He’s all right, Rebekka,” he reminded her.
“For now.” It wasn’t good enough.
Her shaking gradually subsided, but the tight, convulsive fear remained in her heart. André’s presence was like an anchor in the midst of her sea. Seeing that the others were still talking intently with the doctor, Rebekka whispered to him, “Remember what I said to you the night of Claire’s funeral? About marrying Marc? Well, I want to do that—as soon as possible.”
He blinked. “You will.”
“I mean in the hospital.”
Ties That Bind Page 14
