This Time Forever Page 16

  Mickelle tensed. Immediately, she walked over to where Officer Lowder was questioning the boy.

  “I was just going to get my sister from school,” the boy was saying. “Nobody else was home. The nanny, my dad . . . there was a meeting.”

  “What about your mother?” Mickelle asked.

  The boy’s gaze flicked to her. “My mom is dead.”

  She felt stunned. This boy had apparently already suffered a great deal. The urge to comfort him again welled up inside of her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  He turned his face away and stared dejectedly at his car.

  “So you thought you could just drive on down with no license and no insurance.” Officer Lowder clicked his tongue. “Then you just went through the intersection when it wasn’t your turn. Why did you do that?”

  The boy shook his head. “I don’t know. The music was loud. The guys were fighting . . .”

  Officer Lowder looked at the other teens. “What happened?” he asked them.

  A tall, gangly boy with small hazel eyes said, “The light was green, and she wasn’t going. She just sat there. So we went. Then she crashed into us.”

  “Write it down.” Officer Lowder handed him a sheet of paper. “Anybody else?”

  “I saw the same thing,” said a boy with curly red hair and freckles. “She crashed into us.”

  In disbelief, Mickelle looked into the boy’s large blue eyes, noticing the long, curly red eyelashes. “I crashed into you? I had the right of way.”

  “Yep, she did,” said the employee from Hopper’s. “I saw the whole thing.”

  The red-haired boy shrugged. “I was messing with the music,” he muttered. “That was what I saw.”

  “The music was loud,” offered the blonde girl.

  Officer Lowder gave them all sheets to fill out. He took Mickelle’s paper, and exchanged it for one the boy had filled out. “Just wait at your car for a moment, okay? I’ll be there in a minute. We’re going to impound the boy’s car and try to find someone to come and get him.”

  Mickelle glanced worriedly at her watch. “I have to get my son from school in about two minutes. He’ll wonder what’s keeping me. I can’t really drive the car . . .”

  Officer Lowder consulted briefly with his partner, and then walked back with Mickelle to her station wagon. After studying the damage, he went to the police car and removed a crowbar from the trunk. He put the edge between the metal and the tire and pushed. It took him four tries before the metal moved away from the tire.

  “There, that ought to get you home at least.”

  Mickelle looked at him gratefully. “Thank you.”

  He appeared about to say something, but his partner called to him. “I have to go,” he said to Mickelle. “Look, this boy’s in big trouble, but you’re going to have to contact his father to see how he’s going to pay for this. Sometimes getting these jerks to pay is tough. With all you’ve been through . . . anyway, I’m really sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Mickelle repeated. “Uh, are you going to give him a ticket?”

  “Not for the accident. In this city, we don’t give tickets in an accident. But he will be cited for not having a license or insurance.”

  “I see.” It didn’t make sense to her. The boy had caused the accident and should have received a ticket for doing so.

  Officer Lowder walked away, and Mickelle tried to open her door. It refused to move. She pulled harder. The door handle broke. “Oh, great.” Tears stung her eyes. Blinking them firmly away, she went around to the passenger side and climbed in, sliding over to the driver’s seat.

  Bryan followed her inside. “Sorry, Mom.”

  She smiled at him weakly. “I didn’t think the Snail could get any worse.”

  “It could have blown up,” he offered. They both laughed.

  “You’re right. We’re both okay, and that’s a big blessing.” She took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” But the engine started on the first try, and Mickelle drove slowly past the scene of the accident, once again noticing the young driver of the other car. His expression of sadness continued to tug at her heart. She turned right on the next street and then right again, driving toward the school. They were just in time to pick up Jeremy. Once again, Mickelle had to use her feet to open the door, but it was easier this time.

  Jeremy met them at the front entrance of the school, full of excitement about his day. Before he could say anything, Bryan launched into an enthusiastic account of the accident.

  Back at the car, Mickelle felt the curious eyes of other parents as she entered from the passenger side and scooted over. On the drive home, she discovered that the screeching noise of metal against the tire sounded again each time she turned left. She wondered how much it would cost to repair the vehicle. The boy didn’t have insurance, but would his father pay? Could she make him?

  She felt her heart start to race, signaling the onslaught of another panic attack. Don’t think about it. She slowed the car to a crawl and let the attack roll through her as she clutched the steering wheel. “You guys have homework?” she asked almost desperately. Focusing on something else helped, and her panic subsided.

  The boys did have homework, but once they were home it took only a few moments to complete. “What’s for dinner, Mom?” Bryan asked when they had finished. “Can we eat now?”

  Mickelle sighed. What she really wanted was to go to bed.

  “Yeah, I’m starved,” said Jeremy.

  She pulled a box from the cupboard. “How about cereal?”

  “Cereal for dinner again?” Jeremy said. “Aw, Mom, I’m sick of cereal. Can I walk to Aunt Brionney’s? I bet she’s having a real dinner.”

  “Shut up,” Bryan said sharply, looking at Mickelle’s face. “Cereal’s good enough.”

  “Mom, Bryan told me to shut up!”

  Mickelle leaned against the counter, stifling an urge to run into the bedroom and bury her head under the pillow.

  “Mom! Did you hear me?”

  She took a few steps toward the hall, still contemplating escape.

  “Mom, where are you going?” Jeremy’s plea reminded her of the way he had worried about her disappearing while he was at school.

  But hadn’t she already left the boys by sinking into depression? By spending most of her time in the dark bedroom under the covers? What was she waiting for? Her knight in shining armor was dead, and he wasn’t coming back. He’d never really been much of a knight anyway. Besides, wasn’t it her responsibility to take control of her life? She had thought so before Riley had stolen everything out from under her. Maybe it was still true.

  She drew herself up to her full height. “Why don’t we order a pizza?” They hadn’t bought pizza since Riley had died. People had brought them pizza, and once they’d eaten it at Brionney’s, but Mickelle had been either too concerned about money or too depressed to order it herself.

  “Do we have enough money?” asked Bryan, as though reading her mind.

  “I have a coupon for Papa Murphy’s. For a large combo, it’ll only cost ten bucks.” Papa Murphy’s was her boys’ favorite pizza place because of the large size of the pizzas. It was her favorite because it was a take-and-bake place, meaning that the pizza was never cold when they got around to eating it.

  The boys cheered, but Mickelle held up a finger. “On one condition. I want you to clean your rooms—including on top of the dressers, under the bed, and in the closets.”

  “In the closet, too?” Bryan moaned.

  Mickelle had seen the four months’ worth of clutter in his room and took pity on him. “Okay, not in the closet today, but everywhere else. And don’t throw it all in your closets, either, because this weekend you are both going to clean them out.” She hoped she wouldn’t be too depressed to follow through.

  She went to the phone to call in the order. “You can stay here and clean while I go pick up the pizza. And remember,” she warned, “I’ll still have to cook it, and I won’t do it if I can’t
see the floors in your rooms. I can always stick it in the freezer.”

  “Can I turn on the oven?” asked Jeremy, nearly jumping with enthusiasm.

  “Not until I’m sure we’re going to eat the pizza tonight.”

  She made sure the boys began working before she left to pick up the pizza at the drive-through window. By the time she arrived home, she could actually see the color of the tan carpet in their rooms. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that had long escaped her, she let Jeremy preheat the oven and slide the pizza in.

  Later, at the table, Bryan stared at the cooked pizza and wrinkled his nose. “Mom, they put mushrooms on it,” he whined. “We don’t like mushrooms.”

  “Yeah.” Jeremy removed a mushroom from his slice. “Only Dad liked mushrooms.”

  Mickelle took an unsteady breath. It was true. Riley had always insisted on having mushrooms on his pizza, and she had always ordered them, despite the fact that everyone else in the family picked them off. Why would she still order the mushrooms when Riley was no longer here to complain or insist?

  Mickelle fought tears and bitterness. This was one more problem added to her terrible day, but she had to be strong for the boys. She had already let them down so much in the past months. For a moment, she hated both Riley and every one of the two-thousand-plus varieties of mushrooms in the world.

  No one said anything for a long time, and then Bryan picked up his pizza and took a bite. “Hmm, not bad,” he said, keeping his eyes on her face. “I think I like mushrooms after all.”

  Jeremy stared. Then he nodded solemnly and replaced the mushroom he had taken from his pizza. He took a big bite. “It is good,” he agreed. “I can’t even taste the mushrooms.”

  Bryan took another bite, then another. Shortly, he was reaching for another slice. Mickelle took a bite of her own pizza. Then she started to laugh, nearly choking.

  The boys joined in, making her laugh harder, until a tear rolled down her cheek. Here they were, eating mushrooms they hated, and enjoying every minute because it reminded them of Riley. Of the good times, and even the bad.

  “I think we should always have mushrooms,” Jeremy said.

  Bryan reached for his third slice. “Me, too.”

  * * * * *

  Rebekka was mostly silent as the long meeting progressed. She could tell the men liked each other and shared similar business ideals, and she suspected that soon Jesse’s hospital programs would be marketed abroad by Samuel’s company. She wondered what religion Samuel believed in. It would be too much to hope that he was a member of her church like Damon and Jesse.

  She looked at Damon at the same time he glanced her way. He smiled. She remembered their plans for Friday and her promise to take him somewhere interesting. But where? If they were in France, she’d know exactly where to go. She’d take him to that little restaurant near the Seine where she and Marc—

  Damon winked at her, and Rebekka swallowed hard.

  “I guess that’s about the extent of our plans,” Jesse said to Samuel. “Do you feel your company would be interested in participating?”

  “Actually, yes.” Samuel put down the pen he had been using to take notes. “The more I learn, the more intrigued I am with the possibilities.” He smiled at Rebekka pointedly. “In fact, I’m finding everything about Utah more interesting than I’d expected. You have a potential vein of gold here, and I would like to be a part of mining it. However, before I commit my company, I’d like to stick around a few days, take a look at the program itself. Maybe see it at work in a hospital. I’m not a programmer by a long shot, but I have had some programming experience, and I know quality when I see it.”

  “I’ll be glad to walk you through the program,” Jesse volunteered.

  Damon leaned back in his chair. “Are you free to stay now, or do you need to come back at another time?”

  “I could stay now. I’ll have to make a few phone calls, but I have good people who can cover for me. I’d appreciate it if you could direct me to a nice hotel.”

  “I could do that,” Damon said, “or you could stay with me. We have a lot of space—and a cook who makes really tasty Cincinnati-style five-way chili.”

  “Five-way chili? Then I’ll have to accept your hospitality.” Once again Samuel smiled at Rebekka, and somehow she was sure she was the real reason he agreed to stay at Damon’s. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel, but she couldn’t stop smiling. This certainly beat baby-sitting the cranky Belle and the besotted Tanner.

  “What’s five-way chili?” she ventured.

  “That’s chili served on a mound of spaghetti with chopped raw onions and red kidney beans on top, all smothered in a very thick layer of shredded cheddar.” Samuel ran his tongue over his lips. “There’s nothing like it.”

  Rebekka didn’t think the dish sounded good at all, but she was willing to try almost anything once. “Sounds like an adventure.”

  “You’ll love it.” Samuel continued to hold her gaze, smiling.

  Damon frowned, seeming to notice Samuel’s interest in her for the first time. He was about to speak again when one of the employees poked his head in the door. “Sorry for the interruption . . . I just checked the answering service, and you have a pretty important message. It’s about your son.” He glanced at Samuel, as though not wanting to say more.

  “Thank you, Brody.” Damon rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, Samuel, I’ll leave you in Jesse and Rebekka’s capable hands.”

  Samuel nodded, and they shook hands. “That will be just fine.”

  * * * * *

  Damon drove to the American Fork police station in his dark-blue Mercedes. At first he’d been shocked and concerned at the news of Tanner’s accident, but now he was more angry than anything else. He admitted to himself that part of his anger had been caused by Samuel’s apparent interest in Rebekka, though aside from his jealousy, he liked the man and felt a great deal of professional admiration for him. Rebekka was a beautiful woman. Why wouldn’t Samuel be interested? She was more his age, anyway.

  He gave a protracted sigh. Tanner was really going to get it. If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times that he couldn’t drive until he had his license. I’m going to wallop him until he’s too sore to sit down!

  But when he picked Tanner up at the police station, his son’s face seemed to bear the weight of the world. All the angry words and recriminations on the tip of Damon’s tongue evaporated, and he said a silent prayer of thanks for the distance between American Fork and Orem which had allowed him to calm down before facing Tanner. Without saying a word, he hugged his son.

  Tanner started to cry. “I thought I was doing something good,” he said. “But I wasn’t. I—I crashed . . . the car—my car . . . I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  Over his son’s shoulder, Damon met the interested stare of the woman behind the long front desk. He whispered to Tanner, “Come on. Let’s go home. We’ll talk about it there.”

  They drove away from the police station in silence, with Tanner staring mournfully out the window as though his best friend had died. Damon prayerfully thought about what he should say to his son. From the policeman’s description of the accident, the event was Tanner’s fault. But what had really happened?

  Suddenly, Tanner turned toward his father. “Belle. Where’s Belle?”

  “She’s at the Hergarters’. Bekka arranged for Bri to pick her up after school. They tried to take her to our house, apparently, but you weren’t home to baby-sit, so they took her back home with them. We need to pick her up now.” Damon knew he was stalling for time; he didn’t know what to say to his son.

  Tanner leaned back against the seat in relief. “Good. I was worried about her.”

  Damon pondered that. He appreciated the fact that Tanner had acted to help his sister, but he was a firm believer that the end did not justify the means. That motto had served him well in business over the years, and he wasn’t going to doubt it now.

  Damon used his cell phone to ca
ll Rebekka and let her know they were picking up Belle. After collecting her at the Hergarters’, they drove straight home. He motioned Tanner into his office and closed the door.

  The boy slumped into one of two padded chairs next to the extra computer. “You know you are not allowed to drive,” Damon began, sitting in the other chair. “I bought you that car and allowed you to fix it up because I knew it would not only be a good experience, but also because you would need transportation. Now you’ve betrayed my trust, Tanner. I’m not sure what to do about that.”

  Tanner sat up stiffly in his chair. “It was her fault, Dad! Really. Eric and Randy’ll tell you. She wasn’t moving, so I just went, and she hit me.” His voice held a note of belligerence.

  “You were turning,” Damon stressed. “She had the right of way.”

  “But she just sat there! Honest.”

  “For how long?”

  “At least five minutes. Okay, maybe a little less, but it was a long time, Dad. I was worried about the light changing and about getting Belle. It would have been okay, if she would have went.” The belligerence disappeared as Tanner’s eyes filled with tears. “I just wanted to help Belle.”

  “You should have known we would take care of Belle.”

  “I know that now,” Tanner agonized, “but it seemed so . . . Randy said once his mother forgot, and Rebekka was gone . . .” He laid his head on the computer desk, and his tears wet the wood surface.

  Damon could feel his son’s sorrow, and his heart was heavy with the boy’s pain. “Okay, look, the bottom line is that your car is damaged and has been impounded. That’s going to add up to a lot of money.” He allowed his voice to soften. “I do feel you have learned a lesson, so I’ll help you out. Of course, we’ll still have to go to juvenile court. They can’t overlook the fact that you were driving without a license or insurance.”

  “Court?” Tanner’s brown eyes grew wide.

  “Yes. You’ve broken the law.”

  “What will they do to me?”

  “I’m not sure.” He leaned over and put his arm around his son. “But I’ll be right there beside you.”