Before I Say Goodbye

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Her life in order. Rikki was not going to appreciate that.

  Kyle blew out a breath. “Thanks. That was . . .” She nodded, but I knew what she meant. I could feel the Spirit as well. Whatever was going on with Rikki and her children, God was very much aware of them.

  Rikki said nothing, but I could feel her studying me intently behind half-closed eyes. I knew she wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she didn’t want an audience.

  Kyle cracked a yawn. The child was practically asleep on her feet. “You should go home and get some sleep,” I said.

  “What about school? It’s almost morning.”

  “Do you have classes you can’t miss?” I asked this because convincing my older children to miss school for any reason was such an unpleasant ordeal that Becca had changed dentists twice so they could go later in the day. They hated missing any class that would be hard to make up later.

  Kyle blinked. “I could miss every class, every day. It’s all a waste. Well, except dance, but they’re mostly way behind me in that class anyway.”

  “Are you sure? Isn’t there a class or two that would be easier to attend and get the assignment in even if you’re tired?” I was wasting time, practically speaking a foreign language. Kyle hadn’t been taught that education was a privilege and responsibility but rather something to be endured.

  “Well, we are starting a project in English,” she said, stifling another huge yawn. “Fourth period.” I don’t know who she startled more with the admission, me or herself.

  “Tell Sister Rushton. She’ll get you there and excuse you from the others.” Becca would know who to talk to for that to happen.

  “Okay.” Kyle turned back to her mom, but Rikki’s eyes were closed now and her body limp. Kyle leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

  “Wait with Brother Mendenhall until Sister Rushton comes, okay?” I exchanged a look with Steve, who nodded subtly.

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  I grinned. “Not a babysitter. A ward family, remember? You’d do the same for us if someone at our house was in the hospital.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” But she said it under her breath, with a happier lilt to her voice than she’d used all night.

  She disappeared with Steve, and I turned back to Rikki. Not that I really expected to have a decent conversation with her now, seeing her condition. Yet her eyes were open again and her expression clear. Ah, she’d been faking it these last few minutes, waiting for Kyle to leave.

  “So,” I said.

  “So.”

  Infuriating as usual. “Why did you really come to Utah, Rikki?”

  “Because you were here.”

  No joking gleam, no teasing grin. Uneasiness shivered through my body.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rikki

  Dante shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Genuine puzzlement. I almost felt sorry for the man. “A lot of things don’t make sense, but they’re still true. Fact: I looked you up on the Internet and found you’d moved back into our old neighborhood. I felt it was a sign, you being here with your family and me still owning my parents’ house. I looked up the time the meetings started and went. I didn’t know you were the bishop, though.”

  “Why, Rikki?”

  “Because of the children. I have to make sure they’re taken care of. Like you said in the blessing, I have to put my life in order. That means finding them a good place to stay.”

  His eyes flashed, and he looked every bit as dark and dangerous as any of my former boyfriends. I hadn’t known he had such passion. If I had, maybe . . . No, better not to go there.

  “So, you’re going to up and leave?” he demanded, his voice harsh. “You’re a mother now, Rikki. That means responsibility. Those kids deserve stability. They deserve discipline. They deserve a mother. You can’t desert them. Kyle’s still hurting over how you left them earlier this year and the time before that. Three months, Rikki? That wasn’t what we agreed all those years ago. We both promised we were going to take care of our children, not ignore them or abuse them like our parents did.”

  I glared at him. “There’s a lot of things we don’t plan on, Dante. Maybe your life has been a sweet ride without major bumps. Maybe I’m the only one with the crappy life. But I do love my children, and they know it.”

  “Then stay.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice, Rikki.”

  “Not for me.”

  “I can help you. What is it? Money problems? Substance abuse? Spousal problems? As your bishop I can help with all of these.”

  “I don’t need a bishop, Dante. I need you.”

  “I don’t understand. You can’t be saying—”

  “I’m dying.”

  That stopped him good. He opened his mouth and then shut it and sat down in one of the straight-backed visitor chairs.

  “About eight months ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Inoperable.” I sighed. “When I left the kids earlier this year, it was so I could do an aggressive chemo and radiation therapy. Six weeks of hell.” Even the memory made my bones ache and my stomach sick. “I lost a lot of hair, and every time I went to visit the kids, I wore a wig so they wouldn’t find out. They laughed, thinking it was just a new style, another strange phase I was going through. But the treatment didn’t work, didn’t stop the growth. I’m still taking pills that are supposed to slow it, but they don’t do enough. The symptoms are worse—headaches, nausea, muscles that won’t work right. I have seizures because of the growth in my brain. I drop things.” It would only get worse, or it would if the pain didn’t make me so crazy that I accidentally took too many painkillers—again. “If this is the type of game your God plays, Dante, I’m glad I left. I’m glad I didn’t have to hope for anything so stupid as eternity.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Dante whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Too often these days, I only saw a skull staring back at me from the mirror. Most women would love to have lost so much weight. But not like this. Never like this. “There’s nothing to say.”

  “The kids—have you told them?”

  Irritation swept through me. “Of course I haven’t told them! What would I tell them? That I’m dying, that I can’t find Kyle’s father, and that James’s father has a wife and a new son and doesn’t want anything to do with him? That there’s not one of my friends I feel could raise them properly, even if they had the means? That I don’t know what’s going to happen to them?” The anger died as quickly as it came, leaving me weepy and afraid. “Look, I’ve left my children before—a couple times for jobs when Kyle was small and once for drug rehab a few years ago—but this is different. This is permanent. I won’t be able to call and make sure they’re okay. I won’t be coming back for them. Ever. There’s no second chance at getting this right. I have to be sure they’ll be with someone who will treat them the way they should be treated. Maybe even love them.”

  I was crying as I pushed out the last words. This was the hardest part of all, not knowing what would happen to my kids. Not knowing if someone would ever love and care for them as much as I did. As much as they deserved. If I’d known years ago that I would die before my children, would I have chosen to have them at all? I’d once thought that I would never, ever give them up for anything. Not for riches, or fame, or success. But what if it was for their well-being? If I hadn’t had them, would they have been born to another, more worthy mother? Or someone even worse?

  Good mothers didn’t leave their kids forever.

  “So you came home,” Dante said. His voice was hushed, almost reverent.

  “I came home to you. I want you to help me find someone to take my children, D
ante. I want them raised in the gospel. That’s the real reason I came home to die.”

  He blinked. “You want them raised in the gospel?”

  “Don’t get me wrong—I’m not a believer. Not in visions or baptism or any of that. But it’s a good way to raise kids. It was a steadying influence on me, and the ward members were, too. I don’t want Kyle to sleep around. I don’t want James to join a gang or father a bunch of children he’s not going to take care of. I want them to go to school and not get into drinking and drugs. I want someone watching out for them, helping them get jobs so they can make something of themselves. Please, help me find someone you’d trust with your own children, and then promise me you’ll keep a good, close watch on them. Promise me, Dante.”

  Was what I asked even possible? Why would a perfect stranger be willing to take on that kind of work for next to nothing? Kyle was a handful, and James was long past the cute baby stage. Two children cost a lot to raise, and though the state might give money to a foster family, I didn’t want a foster family or a series of temporary homes for my babies.

  Of course, having Dante find me a family wasn’t really what I’d wanted. I’d hoped he would be in a position to take Kyle and James himself. But he already had four children, and in this world, that meant far too many already. Besides, something in me couldn’t ask; I was too afraid he’d say no. That he’d reject me. Reject my children.

  He rubbed a hand across his face as he always had when he was stalling for time. I knew it was a lot to absorb, and I hadn’t meant to dump it on him like this. I’d meant to have Becca fall in love with James and want to help him when she heard about me. I’d hoped to have Kyle impress the family in some way, or at least become good friends with one of Dante’s children, so they’d all want the best for her. I hadn’t meant for Kyle to develop a crush on Travis and get picked up for shoplifting or for Becca to realize the truth about how much extra work James would be for anyone who adopted him.

  I bit my lip, trying to see past the tears. I was pretty sure Dante wouldn’t be thrilled with even my simplified request, but coming here really was my last hope. The fact that he was a bishop might make it harder for him to refuse. I hoped.

  Dante had said something and was waiting for an answer. That was happening to me more and more. I told myself it was the medication, but the truth was my brain wasn’t working the way it once had. I was often distracted and couldn’t seem to hold on to two threads of thought at the same time.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “How long do you have?”

  I snorted. That was always the question. “I don’t know. No one knows. In January the doctor said six months, a year. I could drop dead tomorrow. But it will get worse first. They’ll want to put me in the hospital.”

  He shook his head, and I took some comfort in knowing I didn’t have to tell him I didn’t want to die in a hospital.

  He rubbed his face again. It made me want to laugh, but what came out was a sob. He placed his hand on my arm, and his fingers felt warm against my flesh. “We’ll figure this out,” he said in a soothing voice that made me more angry than comforted. I imagined he used it on all the members of the ward who had problems.

  His hand was bigger than when it had held mine twenty-odd years ago, but it was more than the extra pounds he carried because his fingers were also longer. Either he’d had a growth spurt since I knew him, I was shrinking, or my memory was faulty.

  What if all my memories of him were faulty? I was trusting him to do the right thing for my children despite his religious fanaticism. Maybe I was wrong.

  There was no other choice.

  Dang, I was a mess.

  Dang? That made me smile. I was finally getting the hang of controlling my language, even to myself. Not that it mattered anymore.

  He thought the smile was for him, and I let him think it. Most males were genetically programmed to assist and protect, and a little show of trust helped them follow through. Too bad the men I’d fallen in love with had let other drives overcome those better instincts. All but Dante, but that had been my own fault.

  No, the Church’s. I had to keep believing that for a little while longer.

  “You going to be okay?” Dante asked, his voice gentle.

  “I’m fine. Well, except that I’m dying.” In a weird way it had been therapeutic to tell him. Now there was at least one person I could really be myself around, deep, dark secret and all. “Please don’t tell the kids. Or anyone else.” I didn’t think he would, but I had to make sure.

  “Of course not.” He stood. “Can I at least tell Becca?”

  “I want to be the one. Please? Don’t you have some sort of bishop’s oath that you have to keep my private life confidential unless I say otherwise?”

  He gave me a pained look. “It’d be better to tell people. Easier to find a family.”

  “The kids have to know first, and I’m not ready to tell them.” I didn’t know if I would ever be ready, but I would have to do it eventually. I already knew James was going to be devastated, and Kyle would never, ever forgive me.

  “As your bishop, I’ll do what you ask, but you’ll have to tell Kyle and James soon. They deserve to know, to have time—” He broke off, but I knew he meant time to say goodbye, to prepare to be without me.

  I covered my face with my hands, my heart shattering.

  “I’m sorry, Rikki. I really am.”

  No apology in the world could make anything even marginally better. As I’d told Becca, there were some places you simply couldn’t take children, and I was heading to one of them. Worse, no power on earth could stop me from leaving.

  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure your children have what they need,” Dante said.

  It wasn’t enough, and if I thought it would help, I’d throw pride to the wind and beg. I needed Dante to be my last and greatest hero, to take care of my babies the way he’d taken care of me all those years ago. As long as they were with Dante, a part of me would always be with my children, the part I knew he carried in his heart, the same as I carried part of him. A sweet bond forged by children in desperate need of something to cling to.

  For a sharp, agonizing moment I hated Dante. Hated him, while at the same time I needed him more than I’d ever needed him in my life. I hated him for the chance he had of being with my children—if he would only open his eyes—and for the fact that he might never see what great kids they were, which meant they might end up with no one to love them.

  The only thing worse than dying was knowing how vulnerable my children were. My life choices had made them that way, but I was going to use my last breaths to give them the life they deserved. Even if it ripped my heart in pieces.

  Now that Dante knew the score, it was time to go back to working on Becca.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Becca

  On Monday morning Dante came home for a quick breakfast before work, looking weary and beaten. I felt the same way. James had been too worried to go to sleep on the inflatable mattress I’d set up in Cory’s room. I’d had to rock him for an hour before he fell asleep, the tears still drying on his cheeks. For the rest of the night, I’d called the hospital every hour until I heard that Rikki was going to be all right. By five, Charlotte Gillman was installed at my house to watch the children while I went to the hospital to collect Kyle.

  A long night for me but worse for Dante. At least I’d been able to doze between phone calls.

  “The doctor said she’ll probably be released later today,” Dante said, the worry line between his eyes deeper than usual. “But I’m not sure she should be alone.”

  “It’s that bad?” I wasn’t privy to the details of her condition, only that she’d be all right.

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He was hiding something, and I didn’t press, as a good bishop’s
wife shouldn’t. He had to keep secrets, even when he didn’t want to. That it was Rikki’s secret, though, made it harder for me not to pry, given their past relationship. I wondered if she’d tried to kill herself, and after trying futilely to comfort James last night, the idea made me furious.

  “Are the children going to school?”

  I knew Dante meant Rikki’s children, not ours. “James seems fine,” I said, glancing at the table where Lauren and James were eating letter-shaped pancakes. “Since I told him his mother’s going to be okay, he’s not upset anymore. I thought we’d go by the hospital to see her before taking him to school, though, so he could see for himself.”

  “They were moving her from ICU when I left.”

  “That’s good, then.” I stopped myself from probing because I sensed Dante wanted to talk about it. I’d have to be strong to help him keep his word.

  Darn that Rikki anyway.

  Dante kissed me and went toward the door, stopping to kiss Lauren on the way. He also rumpled James’s hair. “You okay?”

  James nodded and continued eating his pancakes. Dante remained watching the boy, an expression of sadness on his face. A fear cut through me. Why was Dante acting so strangely? Was Rikki’s condition more serious than it appeared? Or had Rikki told him something that involved James?

  A second later the expression passed, and Dante was heading for the door. I shrugged off the creeping feeling of unease.

  “Come on, kids,” I said. The older kids had already gone to our next-door neighbor’s to catch a ride to school. Sister Gillman was downstairs watching the morning news and would keep an eye on Cory and the sleeping Kyle. Not only did I not trust Kyle, I didn’t want her to be alone yet. She’d had a rough night.