For Better, for Worse, Forever

Brandon’s request was eloquent and simple and it touched her. April recognized that Brandon wasn’t some kid with a hidden agenda. Like her, he was lonely. He also had something buried deep inside his psyche that was painful. She guessed it had to do with the loss of his mother. She wouldn’t probe. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.

“I would like that very much,” she said. She gazed out to the open sea. A sailboat leaned into the wind against the horizon. “You know, I’ve watched those boats from the first day I arrived, and I’d love to go sailing on one. Do you think we could do that sometime?”

T
URN TO THE BACK OF THIS BOOK
FOR A SNEAK PREVIEW OF
Till Death Do Us Part
,
the companion to
For Better, for Worse, Forever
.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

R
EVELATION
21:4 (NIV)

A
t the top of the hill, a girl, her red hair gleaming in the sun, stood gazing out at the sea. As she lifted her eyes skyward, she turned and spun in a circle, her arms flung out straight and wide.

She stopped spinning, reached into the pocket of her shorts, and took out a red balloon. She put it to her lips and blew, filling it up so that it rounded out. She tied it off, then reached back into her pocket and pulled out a long thin yellow ribbon. She tied one end securely to the balloon’s knotted tail.

As a balmy breeze blew from the sea, she unleashed the ribbon and the balloon flew upward. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun and watched as the air current
caught the balloon and pulled it so that it rose until it became a tiny red dot lost against the endless blue sky.

Brandon Benedict couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A girl—a beautiful girl—with hair so fiery red that it glistened in the sun like sparks from a fire stood shielding her eyes as a red balloon sailed upward into the vibrant blue sky high above the island of St. Croix.

He’d gone hiking alone in the green hills. What an odd thing to discover. She hadn’t seen him, so he stayed behind some bushes, out of her line of vision. She appeared to be conducting a private ritual.

Brandon decided not to intrude, but when his heel crushed a dry branch, its loud crack made the girl whirl and catch sight of him. He heard her gasp, then shout, “What do you want?” Her fists were clenched and he thought that she might strike him.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t spying.” Her angry gaze bore into him, and he felt defensive.

“Why are you up here?”

He felt his anger rise as he replied, “It’s a
free country, you know. I was just out hiking. Sorry if I ruined your day.”

Now she looked less angry, more embarrassed. “I thought I was alone.”

“And now you will be.” He turned and started back down the hill.

“Wait!” she called after him. Her voice was gentler now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

His irritation vanished and he turned back to her. Her blue eyes were heavy with sadness. He felt it like an electric current. He recognized that sadness. Even now, he could feel the darkness of his own pain, but he shook it off as he smiled. “I’m Brandon Benedict. I live on St. Croix. I hike up in these hills a lot. I had no idea anyone was up here. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“My parents have rented that house.” She pointed and he saw the white barrel tile of a roof below. “I’m April Lancaster.”

“You’re renting the Steiner place? I’ve grown up here. I know most every house and its owners on this side of the island,” he explained. “The Steiners were regulars at the Buccaneer Golf Course until Mr. Steiner had a heart attack. They moved back to the
States. I work at the Buccaneer. After school and during summers, I mean. But I guess I’m telling you more than you probably want to know.”

She offered a tentative smile. It pleased him immensely. “It’s okay. Actually, we’ve been here three weeks and I haven’t met a soul.”

“You’re kidding! You’re so pretty. I—I mean, all you have to do to meet people around here is show up in Christiansted.” He waved in the general direction of St. Croix’s largest city. “There’s nightlife down there.”

The veil dropped over her eyes again. “I’m not into partying.”

He itched to know what would make such a pretty girl so sad and isolated. “Everything around here is low-key. Even our parties. Where did you come from, anyway?”

“New York. Long Island, actually.”

“How long will you be staying?”

She shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

“As long as what takes?”

“Forget it,” she answered quickly, then added, “we don’t have a time limit on our visit. Maybe until the weather turns horrible.”

Brandon laughed. “Then you’ve got a long visit. It’s always beautiful here. Summer can get hot, but that’ll be months from now.” He came closer and saw that her complexion was the color of cream, with the faintest hue of rose across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. He realized he was gawking and felt self-conscious. “You need to be careful of the sun. It can fry you, even on cloudy days.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

He was running out of small talk, but he didn’t want to walk away from her. “They say too much sun can cause cancer.” She gave him an odd, almost amused look he couldn’t read. “You’re not afraid of cancer?”

“No.” Her answer, low and soft, sounded so final that it made him shiver.

“I’m running off at the mouth,” he confessed. “I, um, guess I should be going.”

“It was nice to meet you,” she said politely.

“Look, if you ever want someone to show you the sights—”

“That’s all right. I appreciate it, but I’m not looking for company. Nothing personal,” she added hastily.

It struck him that she probably had a boyfriend back in New York. A girl as attractive as April
must
have a boyfriend. “If you change your mind, I’m in the phone book under William Benedict. That’s my father.”

She shook her head. “I won’t change my mind.”

Feeling awkward, Brandon turned and jogged downward, skidding on the rough terrain but not looking back until he’d come to the bottom of the hill. Stopping to catch his breath, he turned for a look. She stood, small against the blue sky, looking up. He decided she was searching for the balloon, and he too gazed up. All he could see were puffy clouds and a seagull or two. The balloon was gone. He hoped it had gotten to where she’d wanted it to go. It surprised him when the idea of heaven crossed his mind.

April scanned the brilliant blue sky until the brightness made her eyes water. The balloon was gone. It had been swallowed up. She wished she could still see it. It represented her link with Mark. The red balloon had been her tribute to Mark until the boy had come
along and interrupted her. Brandon. Brandon’s face was so different from Mark’s. Brandon had sun-streaked brown hair and blue eyes; he was tan, muscular, and robust-looking. Mark, who’d had curly dark brown hair and intense deep brown eyes, had been tall and thin, a victim of cystic fibrosis. Mark was dead and nothing could change that awful reality.

She shivered from the memories. Her mother was probably worried about her by now, so April started down toward the villa where gardens teeming with exotic flowers slashed color along the white stucco walls. Her parents, at the breakfast table, looked up, and her mother asked, relief flooding her face, “Out for a walk?”