Bridge to Forever Page 15

  The hurt in Mickelle’s heart abated. Maybe Damon hadn’t been trying to avoid her.

  He’s not Riley.

  “He got the right night, but it slipped my mind until just now.” She sighed. “I have to go help the girls in the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable, okay? It’ll just be a few more moments.”

  Belle had already finished washing and rinsing her hair in the bathtub and was scrubbing at Jennie Anne’s mass of dark brown. “You’d better get changed,” Mickelle said, stifling a laugh at her clothes, which were now completely soaked instead of damp. “I told you I’d help you.”

  Belle beamed. “Yes, but this was fun because I never get to take a bath at home in clothes!” She giggled as Mickelle helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in one of the large towels.

  “Your clothes are still in my room,” Mickelle told her. “Be sure to bring the wet ones back in here.”

  * * *

  “I don’t think they’re getting married,” Tanner said as Jeremy went inside to tell Mickelle that Juliet had arrived.

  Bryan scowled. “What does that have to do with our game?”

  “I think they love each other.”

  That made Bryan mad. Tanner had the basketball, but Bryan suddenly threw himself at the older boy. Tanner stepped out of the way. “Watch it. You’ll foul me.”

  Bryan grunted and dove for the ball once more, knocking it out of Tanner’s hand. “Ha!” he said triumphantly. He shot the ball at the basket but it fell short. Fury surged through his heart. He rammed Tanner with his body and grabbed the ball to try again.

  Tanner fell on the cement. “Gosh, Bryan, why’re you being so crazy? It’s just a game. Play fair.”

  “I am.” Bryan shot for the basket and felt the tears come as he missed again. Tanner didn’t try to get the ball but stared at him oddly. In a blind rage, Bryan shoved the ball at Tanner, not caring if it hit him in the face. “Humph!” Tanner said as the ball made contact with his gut.

  Serves him right, Bryan thought. Tanner glared at him and he felt better, knowing he’d made the other boy angry. He had never done that before, and it felt good making someone as miserable as he felt. Especially Tanner, who kept talking about all that love nonsense.

  At least Colton was on Bryan’s side. Though the man hadn’t said so aloud, Bryan knew by his attitude that he would help keep Damon and Mickelle apart. But what if his mom started liking Colton instead? Bryan shook his head, not wanting to think of that possibility. His dad wouldn’t want her to marry anybody—that much he knew. Bryan didn’t want her to marry anyone, either, especially Damon. He didn’t know why that was, but he didn’t care to examine his thoughts too carefully.

  Jeremy came out of the house as Bryan stomped from the driveway. Bryan didn’t look up as he passed his brother. He sat on the porch, shoulders hunched, listening as Tanner and Jeremy started to play without him. Instead of easing, his fury mounted.

  He reached through the cast-iron stair railing and tore off a few heads of his mother’s nearest roses. One by one he let the pink petals fall to the floor. He grabbed more, choosing the brightest and biggest blossoms still alive on the bush. Slowly, methodically, he ripped them apart as his brain rehashed the game with Tanner. A puddle of pink grew at his feet.

  The door opened again behind him. “Time to go,” called a voice. It was Juliet, Damon’s receptionist. Normally, Bryan liked to see her because she was so friendly and pretty, but he didn’t feel like talking to her today.

  “See ya, Bryan,” Juliet said.

  He didn’t respond but reached for another rose. Tear, rip, squish, let them fall. Repeat. Someone sat beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Belle.

  “I love that game,” she said, leaning over him to pick off a rose. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not . . .” She continued until all the petals were gone. “But see, you can make it end up however you want. If the last petal is ‘he loves me not,’ then you just throw this middle part and say ‘he loves me.’ But if the last petal is ‘he loves me,’ then you don’t use it. See? That way you always win. I hate losing.”

  Bryan couldn’t help but smile, and his anger oozed away. “I do too.”

  “I bet Tanner made you mad.” She rolled her eyes. “He always makes me mad.”

  It felt good that she understood.

  “And boy is he boring,” Belle added. “He hates it when I talk. Like he thinks I’m stupid or something. But I know a lot of stuff, and so do you. I bet you know a ton of stuff if you felt like talking about it. You’re nice, too. You always listen to me. Tanner tells me to shut up, even though Dad says that’s a bad word.”

  Belle didn’t stop talking. She rolled on as though she didn’t expect anything of him; she simply accepted him. Bryan loved hearing her talk because for some reason it always made him feel better.

  “Belle!” Juliet called from her tan car, parked in front of his mom’s old Ford station wagon, the Snail.

  “Gotta go,” Belle said mournfully. “I wish I could stay here. Look at Jeremy hanging on the car window like that. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could trade me for him?”

  Bryan smiled again. “He’s okay, for a kid.”

  “Yeah, it’s Tanner I’m trying to get rid of. Remember last week when he wouldn’t let us watch our show? We gotta stick together.”

  Bryan thought about this. While he really liked Belle, he didn’t want his mom getting wind of any cooperation between them. That wouldn’t get rid of Damon. Bryan didn’t really have it out for Tanner, either. He just got angry today.

  “Yeah, we’ll keep sticking together,” he told Belle in a low voice. “Only we have to keep it cool. Quiet. Like we’ve been doing. Or they’ll all gang up against us.”

  “Yeeeeaaaah!” Belle’s eyes grew huge. “It’s our secret. Like a spy movie.” She leapt to her feet. “See ya tomorrow.” She hesitated before adding with a grin, “Jerk.” Giggling, she ran across the lawn.

  Bryan stifled a laugh and called out, “Yeah, twerp, whatever.”

  She waved, eyes sparkling. Bryan watched the car drive away.

  Jeremy plodded up the walk, sighing. “Darn it all, I was hoping Damon would play with us. You shouldn’t call Belle a twerp. I heard you.”

  Bryan’s anger seeped back as though it had never left. “Oh shut up!”

  “I’m telling Mom. Shut up’s a bad word.”

  “You do and I’ll tell everybody you still pee the bed,” he sneered.

  “I do not! I’m not going to talk to you anymore. I wish Tanner was my brother, not you!” With that final shot, Jeremy fled past him into the house.

  Tears came to Bryan’s eyes. Why had Jeremy’s words hurt him so much? Why did he care what that skinny little idiot said anyway?

  Bryan plucked off several more roses, rubbing and squishing them until his fingers became moist. The crushing feeling gave focus for his anger, made him feel in control. The bush was empty now, except for a few dead blossoms, and he stared guiltily. His mother would have a fit. Carefully, he swept the pink petals off the porch and into the dirt, hoping she wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t that important—all the blooms on every bush would be dead soon anyway. Winter always killed them.

  Wiping his stained fingers on his jeans, he went into the house to find something to eat.

  * * *

  When Belle had shut the door behind her, Mickelle turned back to Jennie Anne. “Can I help?” she asked tentatively.

  A single nod gave permission, and Mickelle began to wash the oil and dust out of her hair. The ends were uneven and split as though she had never had it cut. “There, almost done.” Mickelle massaged the girl’s scalp with increasing pressure, glad she’d bought shampoo with conditioner to calm down Jeremy’s flyaway strands.

  With no warning, Jennie Anne’s hand crept up to Mickelle’s as she scrubbed, and held tight. Mickelle stopped, wondering if the child had a sore or lump she hadn’t noticed.

  “My mother used to wash my
hair, I think.” Jennie Anne’s voice was soft and hesitant. “I remember this . . .” Her hand dropped and Mickelle continued her washing, her heart full with an emotion she couldn’t name.

  “Jennie Anne,” she said, “I’m glad you’re here.” Before yesterday, she’d never seen this child, yet already she had a place in Mickelle’s heart.

  After washing Jennie Anne’s hair twice and then rinsing with fresh water from the tap, Mickelle retrieved Jennie Anne’s clothes from her bedroom, spying Belle’s discarded wet ones on the carpet. Shaking her head, she picked them up in her other hand and returned to the bathroom. “Here are your clothes,” she told Jennie Anne. She took note of the shoe size as she placed them on the floor by the door, vowing to buy her new ones for winter.

  Belle and Tanner had already left when she reemerged, and Mickelle felt a distinct loss. She hadn’t said goodbye. How silly, she thought. I’ll see them tomorrow.

  Her boys were in the kitchen searching the cupboards for food. “Dinner’s in the oven,” she said. “Spaghetti casserole. If you’ll set the table, we’ll eat.”

  Bryan slammed a cupboard door shut, his dark eyes brooding. “I thought we were going to Aunt Brionney’s.”

  “After dinner. She has enough kids to feed as it is. I can drop you guys off there after I take Jennie Anne to her house. Then I’ll go over to the church. I hope Jennie Anne likes spaghetti casserole.”

  “I thought you said you were going with Brenda.” Jeremy used a stool to reach the plates in the cupboard.

  “Oh, that’s right. I’ll have to come back here then. It’s getting dark too early for you guys to walk to your cousins’ house. Not to mention cold.”

  Bryan frowned and his dark brows creased. “I don’t know why we have to go to Aunt Brionney’s anyway. We’re old enough to baby-sit ourselves. At least I am. Lots of thirteen-year-olds baby-sit.”

  “I know, but I feel more comfortable knowing you’re with Brionney. It’s the same reason Tanner comes over here. He’s almost sixteen; he certainly doesn’t need anyone to tend him.”

  Bryan nodded, seemingly appeased. “Tanner says you’re not going to marry his dad. Is that true?”

  Jeremy paused with a stack of plates in his hands. His eyes, full of questions, dug into hers. Mickelle picked up her hot pads, crushing them apprehensively in her fists. “I don’t know. Damon and I care very much for each other. You both know that. He and I are having a little trouble now—mostly it’s me, but we’re going to talk about it and maybe . . . I hope we’ll work things out.” She felt a peace in her heart when she said it.

  Her younger son appeared relieved, but Bryan scowled. “I don’t like him.”

  “What?” She was honestly surprised. There had been reservation on Bryan’s part toward Damon—increasingly so recently—but she’d believed he liked Damon at least a little. “Why don’t you like him?”

  He gave a sullen shrug. “He’s not Dad.” The brown eyes that so reminded her of Riley’s challenged her, with no sign of yielding.

  She threw the hot pads onto the counter next to the stove, and said earnestly, “Bryan, your dad’s gone. I know that hurts, but there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. If I could, believe me, I would.”

  Bryan erupted like gas near a flame. “You didn’t love him!” he shouted, his face contorting with the sudden rage that had often consumed his father.

  “I did!” Mickelle raised her own voice. “You can’t even begin to imagine what I felt for your father!”

  Bryan glared at her. “You were going to get a divorce!”

  “Who on earth told you that?”

  “He did. He wanted me to watch you when he was gone.”

  Fury at Riley welled inside Mickelle. She fought it down and spoke as calmly as she could. “I loved your father, but I did tell him that I would no longer accept his treatment of me—or of you boys. He understood and was changing. We would have made it, but he chickened out. He’s the one who left us. Not because he didn’t love us but because of the emotional problems left by his seizures. End of story. Now help your brother set the table, please.”

  Bryan had reached for a plate, but at her words, he slammed it on the counter. She was amazed that it didn’t break.

  “I’m not hungry.” Bryan stalked from the kitchen.

  Mickelle watched him go, and saw Jennie Anne in the doorway, not looking at them, but down at the floor, her small fists clenched in tight, hard balls. Her hair hung wetly down her back, but newly combed, and the freckles and green bruise on her face stood out in harsh contrast against the white skin.

  “Come on in, Jennie Anne,” Mickelle said, making her voice friendly. “We’re about ready to eat. I’m sorry Belle had to go home. You don’t mind being here with us, do you? You look so nice with your hair combed like that.”

  “Oh, I didn’t do my math!” Jeremy said, hitting his palm flat on the counter. “I forgot!” He dived for his backpack, hung on a hook by the back door. “Can I do it while I eat, huh, Mom? Jennie Anne can check it without even a calculator. You’ll help, won’t you Jennie Anne? I can read you the numbers after I’m done with the problem.”

  Jennie Anne nodded.

  “Come to the counter then. Or the bar, rather.” Mickelle indicated a stool and the little girl slipped over to it and climbed up. “We usually eat at the counter when Belle and Tanner aren’t here.”

  After putting the meal on the countertop, Mickelle left to check on Bryan, but he wasn’t in his room, or anywhere else. Her heart started the erratic beating that was all too familiar. Where could he be? He knew he had to notify her when he went out. He knew better!

  She went to his room again, searching for a clue. The door eased partially closed behind her, and she gasped as she spied the huge hole in the inside bottom of the door. The damage looked as though someone had kicked the door, breaking completely through the outer layer and revealing the hollow core. When had this happened? Had it been now? If not, why hadn’t she seen it before?

  What made him so angry?

  She thought she knew the answer to this but didn’t know how to help Bryan deal with his emotions. She would have to discipline him better. She would have to make him understand her growing feelings for Damon. Would he ever accept the idea of a stepfather?

  Her eyes fell once again to the jagged edges of the hole. Riley, too, had been mad at her that last day. Before he had taken himself from her life permanently, he had ruined many pieces of her rose collection and damaged the curio cabinet. His last jab at her heart.

  Mickelle stumbled to her room, knelt by her bed, and uttered a heartfelt prayer. The beating in her chest gradually slowed to a normal level as her panic faded. Still, she stopped in the living room to check on her curio cabinet and its contents. All was normal—except the missing glass, and the cracks and gouges left in one of the side panels from when Riley had pushed it onto the TV set that fateful day last May.

  She sighed with relief and returned to the kitchen. “Bryan’s not eating with us,” she said with false brightness. “Who would like to say a prayer for the meal?” She stared at Jeremy pointedly, unsure if Jennie Anne knew how to pray.

  “I will,” Jeremy volunteered obediently.

  Dinner wasn’t quiet, with Jeremy doing his math and asking Jennie Anne to verify his answers, but it was odd without Bryan. Even so, Mickelle derived pleasure seeing Jennie Anne eat two helpings. The child was too thin.

  They were finishing up as the doorbell rang. Mickelle was surprised to see Colton standing there for the second time that day. “Hi,” he said. “I came by to see how you were doing.”

  Mickelle was annoyed but tried not to show it. He’d left after their meeting with his friend only four hours ago—what was he doing back so soon? She had too much to do before her church meeting to talk to him.

  “Hi,” she replied. “We’re just on our way out. I have to take home one of Belle’s friends and I have to find—” No, she didn’t want to tell him about Bryan. “I have t
o take Jeremy to my sister’s.”

  “I’ll drive you,” he offered, smiling at her so winningly that she forgot to be annoyed. “Come on, we’ll talk as we go.”

  “All right. But we’ll have to hurry. I’m going to a meeting at church in less than a half hour.”

  “Mom,” Jeremy shouted from the kitchen, “Aunt Brionney’s on the phone. She called to tell you Bryan’s over there already. She knew you would worry!”

  “Bryan was missing?” Colton asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered reluctantly, “we had a little argument.”

  “About what?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Come on, what are friends for? I may not know much about being a father, but I’ve been thirteen before.”

  The faint underlying bitterness in his words forced her to answer. “We fought about Damon. Bryan seems to feel that Damon’s somehow coming between me and his father.”

  Colton’s face was the picture of sympathy. “I’ll talk to him, if you like.”

  “It’s okay, really.”

  “Just so you know that I’m willing.”

  They drove to Jennie Anne’s first, and Mickelle walked her to the door, leaving Colton and Jeremy in the car. She felt apprehensive as she approached the ramshackle house. What would she do if Jennie Anne’s aunt wasn’t home? She wouldn’t leave her here alone.

  I’ll call the authorities, that’s what I’ll do.

  She stopped halfway down the walk and faced Jennie Anne, crouching so she could see directly into her face. “Jennie Anne, look, I want you to know that I’m only a phone call away. If you’re ever alone and scared, or sad, or if you just need someone to talk to, call me. I know you’re good with numbers, and I bet you can remember mine if I tell you.” She repeated the number several times until Jennie Anne could repeat it back. The little girl did so stoically, her eyes returning to the dull, vacant stare she’d worn when talking to her aunt. Mickelle’s heart felt heavy. What more could she do? Until Jennie Anne trusted her, she wouldn’t be able to make a judgment as to what was going on in her house. She would get to the bottom of it soon, though, and until then she wouldn’t desert Jennie Anne.