This Time Forever (18 page)

“Sorry I’m late. We walked home instead of taking the bus. I didn’t think you’d mind. Do you?”

“Not as long as you’re careful and come straight home.” Mickelle hadn’t even realized he was late. “What time did you get out?”

“Two-forty-five.”

That meant it took him nearly thirty minutes to walk. “I’m going to get Jeremy. Want to come?”

For an answer, he slid into the passenger seat. Mickelle knew that meant he wanted to talk. Otherwise, he would have gone inside to find his DS.

She started the engine. “So how’d school go?”

“Cool. I like it. I got classes with all my friends, and I like the teachers except the music one. He’s kind of weird. But the guys like him, so maybe I just don’t know him yet. They say he’s unusual, and that the kids . . .”

Bryan rattled on and Mickelle listened, amazed that she did not feel drowned in the flow of words as she had so often of late. She drove west, toward the post office. At the intersection the light was red, so she slowed to a stop. Across from her sat an old model Volkswagen Bug with a shiny new red paint job. Mickelle craned her neck to see if the light for the other direction was near changing. She didn’t want to be late to pick up Jeremy after his first day of school, and she still had to make it to the post office. The light was yellow. There, red now. She moved forward a few inches, anticipating her green light.

Suddenly a truck with oversized tires roared through the red light. Mickelle slammed on her brakes, and the Snail died.

“Did ya see that guy?” Bryan yelled. “Nice truck, but what a jerk! He went right through the red light! Where’s a cop when ya need one?”

Mickelle’s light was green now, and she shakily restarted the engine and pushed on the gas, holding one hand to her thumping heart. She glanced at Bryan and then back to the road. She had only a second to notice the shiny red Volkswagen Bug as it tried to turn left—directly into the path of her car. Again Mickelle punched the brake, hearing the screeching tires, the sickening grind of metal as the two cars collided.

Was Bryan even wearing a seat belt?

Only yesterday, she’d read in the newspaper about a young boy who had died in a low-speed crash at an intersection.

Dear Lord,
she prayed.
Let my son be all right.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Damon left before his children awoke on Tuesday morning, confident Rebekka would get them off to their first day of school without him. He’d given Belle a father’s blessing the night before to help her adjust to her new school. She’d attended preschool during the summer so she would be ready for kindergarten, and at the teacher’s repeated suggestion, he’d agreed to have Belle tested to determine her grade level. The school psychologist had concluded after several visits and numerous tests that Belle actually read above a third grade level and had social skills far advanced for her age. Apparently, her nanny in Anchorage had taught her many things over the past two years.

“Usually I see kids who are borderline above their peers,” the psychologist said. “If they are moved up, it’s because their parents insist, not because they’re actually advanced. Quite frankly, I don’t think most of them should be moved up, and I try to talk their parents out of it. But Belle is one of the few children I believe would benefit if given more challenge. I recommend that she go into the first grade. Actually, she could do the second or third grade work just fine but that would be pushing the social aspect. She’s still very young.”

Damon worried over the decision, making it a matter of deep thought and prayer, but Rebekka had seemed pleased. “Don’t worry so much,” she said. “I graduated early, and so did my brother, and we turned out fine. Belle will do great.” She grinned at him. “Imagine you, the epitome of a Type A personality, worried because a child excels. Aren’t you supposed to expect that in your children?”

“But she’s my baby. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Rebekka grinned. “You won’t. Believe me. She’ll be happy later to graduate a year early. I was.”

Damon wondered if Rebekka was simply grateful that Belle would be in school for most of the day. He had to admit there was good reason for her to want to be away from the child. No matter how Rebekka tried, and he knew she tried hard, Belle continued to want nothing to do with her. At first Damon had been amused at the situation, knowing that he had to find a new nanny soon anyway, but since last Thursday night when he had kissed Rebekka, he was beginning to worry about her relationship with Belle. He couldn’t let himself fall in love with a woman Belle hated.

“We don’t really need a nanny anymore,” Belle had told him last night after he had given her the blessing. “Now that I’m in school, she’ll have nothing to do.”

“You still get home way before I do.”

“I could watch myself.” Belle poked her lip out in a pout.

“Who would drive you to school?”

Even though they lived in Alpine and not in American Fork, Belle had insisted on attending Forbes with the Hergarter children and Damon had made that happen. It meant more driving for Rebekka, but both she and Damon had thought it a good idea to give Belle what she wanted for her first school experience. When the school had placed Belle in the first grade with Camille, the Hergarters’ second daughter, Damon believed the whole arrangement had been inspired.

Damon had been at work two hours when Jesse tapped on his office door. “Juliet can’t come to work today. Apparently she’s sick.” Jesse sighed in exasperation.

Damon turned from his computer. “Maybe it’s time to hire a new secretary.”

“Actually, I think once she gets married, she’ll be fine.” Jesse gave a wry laugh. “It’s all these late nights with her fiancé that put her out of order.”

“In the meantime, who’s going to do her work?”

“Don’t know. We’ve got that meeting at one, and Juliet was supposed to pick up Samuel Bjornenburg from the airport at that time. It won’t look good if we invite the guy to discuss marketing our product overseas and then don’t even show up at the airport to collect him.”

As he always did when thinking deeply, Damon began to twist the ends of his moustache before he reminded himself that he was trying to break himself of the habit. Instead, he rubbed his jaw. “What about Terry or John?”

“Nope. Terry’s out talking with those doctors, and John’s in San Diego, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And McCall, Brody, and Nick have to be in our meeting.”

“Well, that’s all of us.” Damon thought a minute and then reached for the phone. “Rebekka. She can pick him up. She’ll even know what he looks like. I should have thought of it before.”

Jesse leaned against the edge of the desk. “Brionney can pick up Belle from school in case Rebekka doesn’t get back in time.”

Damon rubbed his jaw again. “That could work. I’m sure Rebekka won’t mind.”

“Come to think of it, maybe Rebekka should attend the meeting too—that is, if you’re still thinking of asking her to be in on the translating. There’s nothing like a native to get a good job done. We’ll still need a medical person to . . .”

At that point, Damon stopped listening. He would like Rebekka to work for him at Hospitals’ Choice, Inc., but what about his children? They still needed a nanny.

No, what they needed was a mother. Would Rebekka get along any better with Belle if she married him? Whoa, he was really jumping the gun! His Type A personality again. This was the second time in one day that he had thought about Rebekka and Belle together with respect to the future.

Damon sighed. He noticed that Jesse had stopped talking and was staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Without thinking, Damon asked, “Jess, do you think Bekka’s too young for me?”

Jesse smiled. “You mean Rebekka? What is it with you and nicknames? But, no, I don’t think you’re too old for her at all. I mean you’re old, but not
that
old. And you look good for your age.” Jesse’s brown eyes gleamed with mirth. “Your yellow hair hides the gray. Not like me. I’m getting a few white hairs here above my ears—see? At least your gray doesn’t show.”

“Thanks—I think,” Damon said dryly.

“So are you going out with her?”

Damon replaced the phone without making the call. “We’re going somewhere on Friday. She’s picking the place.”

Jesse slapped him on the shoulder. “Way to go! Brionney will be pleased. I think she’d just about given up on getting you two together. She’s been talking about setting you up with her sister.”

Damon held up his hand. “Hey, one at a time! I have enough going on as it is.”

Jesse picked up the phone and handed it to him again. “You’d better call Rebekka before she leaves to take your kids to school.”

* * * * *

Tanner watched Rebekka as she picked up the phone. She seemed to glow as she spoke. “Sure, I’ll do it. I’ll call Brionney to arrange things for Belle.” Suddenly she flushed and giggled. “No, I haven’t forgotten. I know exactly where I’m going to take you.” Pause. “Yes, fax the directions. I don’t want to get lost.”

As she hung up the phone, Tanner continued to stare. She was so beautiful. All his friends thought so and were envious that she lived in his house. Having her there had definitely added to his prestige.

Most importantly, since Rebekka had come, he hardly ever dreamed about his mother anymore—the dark dreams of sickness, of her lying on the bed, withering away until she finally died. He’d cried for weeks after her death. He didn’t miss her exactly, not the way she had been, but he often dreamed of what she would have been like had she never become sick. She would have been like the mothers of his friends, able to take him places, to play ball with him, or even scold him. He wouldn’t have minded.

“Tanner . . . Hello, Tanner.”

He blinked. Rebekka was talking to him. “What?”

“If you want me to take you to school, we’d better get going or you’ll be late. But you’ll have to take the bus home this afternoon or catch a ride. I have to go to Salt Lake to pick someone up at the airport, and then I have to attend a business meeting with your father.”

Belle glared murderously at Rebekka, but both Tanner and Rebekka ignored her.

“I’m ready now.” Tanner grabbed his backpack. He didn’t really need a ride to school, but going with Rebekka was much better than taking the bus. “Can I drive?” he asked with a grin.

Rebekka tossed the car keys into the air and caught them. “Not until you get your license.”

“Aw, I’ll be sixteen in a few months. I know how to drive.”

“Talk to your father.”

Tanner already knew what he would say. Damon had taken him driving a few times on some remote roads, and had even paid for an old VW Bug that Tanner had rebuilt over the summer and had painted a glittering red. Everything was ready for his debut into the driving world—except his license.

“I’d rather go with you, anyway,” Tanner said, following Rebekka into the four-car garage. He smiled, enjoying the way she shook her head at his comment, her perfectly shaped eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“I don’t want to go!” announced Belle.

“Sorry. You have to come.” Rebekka leaned over to open the door to the Altima, and her long hair fell in auburn disarray around her shoulders. Tanner loved it when that happened. She looked like one of the sexy movie stars on the posters he had pasted up in his room.

“Belle,” he said in warning, “you’d better behave. You know what Dad will say.”

“Tattletale!” She stuck her tongue out at him, but she moved toward Rebekka’s car. Tanner stopped for a second to run a hand over the smooth finish of his Bug.
Someday soon,
he told it.
Maybe Dad’ll take me out driving tonight.
He hurried to the Altima and slid into the front leather seat.

“Now when the Hergarters bring Belle home, I need you to keep an eye on her. Okay?” Rebekka said as she backed out of the drive. “I don’t know how long that meeting will last.”

“Sure,” Tanner agreed, not really hearing her. She’d said something about Belle, and whatever it was would be okay. Belle was no problem and usually entertained herself. Rebekka’s being gone was more of a worry. “But hurry back.”

Rebekka’s beautiful gray eyes rested on him momentarily. “I’ll try.” Her voice sounded kind of odd, strangled, or maybe like she was holding back a laugh. He searched her face thoroughly, but her expression showed no mirth. Good. Maybe she was starting to really like him.

* * * * *

After lunch, Rebekka drove to the airport in Salt Lake, following the detailed instructions Damon had faxed to his office at the house. Finding the airport was considerably easier than driving anywhere in Paris.

As she waited for the flight to come in, she thought about Marc. She hadn’t received an e-mail from him since she’d told him Damon had kissed her. That had been Thursday, and today was Tuesday. It seemed much longer than five days.

She pictured Marc’s handsome face, the way his brown eyes seemed to twinkle and jump out at her when he laughed. The way his eyelids drooped enticingly when he teased. Oh, how that had always made her ache inside! To be so close, and yet so far away, had been a delicious torture.

Moisture gathered in her eyes, but Rebekka blinked it away. She didn’t need tears—or Marc.

“I’m sure hoping you’re here to pick me up,” a voice said.

Rebekka was startled to see the figure of a lean, blond-haired man standing in front of her. “Samuel!” He was just as tall and handsome as she remembered.

“Hello, Rebekka with two Ks. You were hundreds of miles away.” He chuckled. “Let me guess—France?”

She smiled.“My brother became engaged recently. But I’ll be going back for the wedding next spring.”

“Maybe I’ll arrange to be in France at the same time. You could show me around.” He sounded so hopeful and friendly that Rebekka laughed and nodded. “Sure, but I don’t know if I really want to go to the Eiffel Tower again.”

“Been there—three times, actually. So I think I’d settle for the Louvre, a cathedral, and maybe a palace or two.”