Twice in a Lifetime Read online

  What crazy mixed-up pregnancy emotions were these?

  She stepped back quickly. “I’ll see you later. I have to go.” She turned from him and fled, not understanding the emotions tumbling in her heart or why the image of André staring at her seemed burned into her memory.

  * * *

  Watching Samuel put a hand on the small of Rebekka’s back as they exited the apartment, André fought helpless fury.

  “Now I understand the hurry,” a voice said behind him. “You knew all along she was pregnant—I was watching you as she told us.”

  “So?” He turned to face Josette, and her taunting smile vanished.

  “Oh, André, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking. That’s got to hurt seeing her leave with Samuel and knowing it’s your fault he’s here.”

  “I’m going over there later to talk to her.” André said. “Without Mr. What’s—his—face around.”

  “That’s good. But isn’t it such a wonderful miracle—Rebekka being pregnant? I’m so happy about it, and I haven’t seen Mom so content in a long time. But tell me, does the baby have anything to do with why you want to marry her?”

  “No. It’s not the baby. It’s Rebekka. Yes, the urgency is because of the baby, but it’s for her sake. She needs someone to be there for her. To help her through.”

  “I’m not the one you should be telling this to. You know that, don’t you?”

  André lifted a shoulder in frustration. “What irks me the most is that he seems to be a nice guy.”

  “Yeah, a really nice guy. Would Rebekka like any other kind?”

  He glared at her. “You’re a lot of help.”

  “I’ll stay at your place and watch the girls until you get home tonight,” she offered. “Consider it a peace offering.”

  “They’re staying here tonight. Mom volunteered to have them.”

  Without warning Josette hugged him. “It’s going to be okay, André. I just know it.”

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  * * *

  Samuel and Rebekka went to a movie. Rebekka was glad the theater was dark and that she didn’t have to make idle conversation. They hadn’t talked about her revelation, but she sensed a subtle difference in his attitude toward her; he seemed to treat her with even more care.

  After the movie, he insisted on accompanying Rebekka to her apartment. “I’ll take a taxi back to my hotel,” he said. “I want to make sure you get home all right.”

  She was going to make some retort but decided it felt good to have him worry about her. “Then come up for a drink, okay?”

  He smiled. “Hot chocolate?”

  “Plain milk for me—warm.” She knew he would likely prefer something with alcohol, but she didn’t offer an apology. He was already familiar with her peculiarities.

  They took their drink into the sitting room, where her piano seemed to mock her from the corner. “Will you play?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not now.” Hoping he didn’t ask why, she hurriedly changed the subject. “So why are you really here?”

  Samuel’s green eyes showed no surprise at her question. He gave a laugh and shook his head. “I should have known you would see right through me.”

  She wasn’t about to tell him it was André who had understood the significance of his visit.

  When she didn’t reply, he continued. “I’m supposed to be getting married next month, and everything was going according to plan until I received a call about what happened to your husband. And, well, I won’t lie to you—it hit me really hard that suddenly you were free.”

  “Who called you?”

  He smiled gently. “Don’t you know?”

  “No. Or I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Then before we get to that, let me tell the entire story first.” He set his cup and its plate on the coffee table and leaned toward her, his elbows on his knees. “My fiancée was aware of my feelings for you. I told her long before we became serious that I had wanted to marry you when you lived in America, but that you had chosen another man and was happy. I was going on with my life.” He gave a wry smile. “It was much harder than I expected, considering we hadn’t known each other long and that we had never committed. But I did go on. I found love and was satisfied—until recently when I found out your husband was gone and you were alone.” He rubbed his left thumb absently over his right wrist. “Suddenly I wondered if it wasn’t our second chance. Polly saw right through me and made me come. She said she didn’t want to wonder if I had married her out of obligation or as a second choice.”

  “Wow, that’s some lady you have there,” Rebekka said. “To let you go like that when you might not come back.”

  Samuel settled back against the sofa abruptly. “Was there any real chance of that Rebekka? Ever? I mean since that day when you didn’t come to Cincinnati on the plane? I waited for you, you know.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Well?” His voice was gentle, but demanded an answer.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. He sighed and she hurried to add, “Samuel, you don’t know what it’s meant to me to see you. To forget my troubles for a while. To know that you still care for me. But there’s the baby and . . . and Marc’s family.”

  He nodded. “Ah, there’s the catch, and also the answer to my question. You were right, they’re a wonderful bunch of people—people I would love to know better, and I understand that you would never leave them. I don’t know how you did in the first place when you came to America to work.”

  “It was hard. Leaving the Perraults was as difficult as leaving my own family. They’ve been a big part of my life since I was five.”

  “And now you’re back for good. You will never leave France again.”

  She nodded slowly. “Not for an extended time. They have a right to see Marc’s child grow up. And I—I need them too.”

  “They’re members of your religion?”

  Again she nodded.

  “You believe you’ll be with your husband again, don’t you?”

  “With my whole heart.”

  In a swift move he leaned forward again, taking her hand. “The crazy thing is Rebekka that I have begun to believe it too, and I wouldn’t want to share you with him. I was born Catholic, my parents are Catholic, and I am a moral person, but you know I have never given much stock in the trappings of religion. Now suddenly I wish to have the assurance you do—that there is life after death. Not as a drop in the cup of water that is God, or in some other general way, but as His children.” He stopped, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I?”

  Tears had filled her eyes as she spoke. “Yes,” she whispered, “because now you can go home and marry your Polly—and eventually you will understand what it’s like to love someone for eternity.”

  He stood slowly. “I should go. If I work all night, I can take an early flight home tomorrow. I need to call Polly.”

  “I understand.” Rebekka arose and walked with him to the door.

  He stopped as she opened it, looking down at her with an unreadable expression that would be forever captured in her memory. He took a deep breath and reached for her hand. His touch was tender and loving. “Thank you for everything. It has been a pleasure knowing you.”

  “You, too. Goodbye.”

  He didn’t seem to register the finality. Instead, he continued to hold her hand. “Rebekka,” he said softly, “it is possible to love two people.”

  Unreasoning fear swept through her, as though the weight of eternity hung on that moment. “What do you mean?” She had the distinct feeling that if she were to throw her arms around him he would stay. She purposely pulled her hand from his.

  “André cares for you, you know,” Samuel continued. “I don’t speak hardly any French, but I’m not blind. I’m thinking perhaps you married the wrong brother.”

  “Go home to Polly. Send me an invitation.”

  She watched him leave, remembering too late that he hadn’t called a taxi. N
o matter, Samuel could take care of himself; he knew enough to get back to his hotel.

  Back in the sitting room she found herself trembling. Over and over she replayed the scene in her mind, but the ending was always the same. Samuel was right: she had made her choice on the day she hadn’t flown to meet him in Cincinnati.

  “He never told me who . . .” In a moment she ran to her bedroom and through the French doors to her balcony. Below, Samuel was emerging from the building onto the cobblestone sidewalk, lit only by the streets lights on their tall poles. “Wait!” she called.

  He looked up the four stories and waved.

  “Who called you?”

  “What?” He put a hand to his ear.

  “I want to know how you knew about my husband. Who called you?”

  She thought he smiled, though because of the distance and the darkness, she couldn’t be sure. “You still don’t know?”

  Rebekka felt the urge to strangle him. “Who?”

  “André.”

  With another cheerful wave, he stepped to the curb, just as a taxi drove up, one he must have call on his cell phone.

  She watched Samuel drive away, but her thoughts couldn’t be farther from him. Why had André called Samuel? Had he wanted to pawn her off on him? Was he that desperate to fulfill his promise to Marc?

  “I’m going to kill him,” she muttered. But another thought was forming in her mind, one that might just fit into her own agenda. If André wanted her happy with Samuel, well, she would be happy with Samuel—if only in pretense.

  And André would be freed from his promise.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Mom, are you okay?” Rebekka asked into the phone later that evening. She had put on comfortable sweats and had already been in bed, but she couldn’t sleep.

  There was a sniff on the other end of the line. “I’m just so happy. I can’t believe this! I know how much you and Marc wanted a baby. Should I come over?”

  “Goodness no, Mom. It’s after eleven. I only called this late because you didn’t answer earlier, and I couldn’t wait anymore to tell you.” I didn’t want you to hear it tomorrow from anyone else.

  “Your dad and I just got home from our date. We were getting ready for bed when the phone—” Her mother broke off.

  “Hey, it’s Dad,” came her father’s voice. “Your mom’s rather choked up a bit right now. Congratulations, honey. We had no grandchildren and now we have two. This is wonderful!”

  “If only we could find Nadia.”

  “We won’t rest until we do.” The confidence in her father’s voice made her feel they really would find Nadia. Never mind that it had been a week since her disappearance or that the chances of her recovery significantly diminished with each passing day.

  “Well, I’m going to turn in now,” she said.

  “Goodnight, honey. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  There was a rustling noise and her mother’s voice came back on the phone. “Thanks for calling. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Rebekka hung up the phone and yawned. She was stumbling to her bedroom as the buzzer in the hall rang. “Oh, Raoul, I bet you forgot your keys.”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Hi,” said the voice on the intercom. “It’s me.”

  Rebekka’s desire to sleep completely vanished.

  * * *

  André arrived in the street by Rebekka’s apartment building at eleven and was relieved to see lights. Then he had tortured himself with visions of Samuel and Rebekka alone in the apartment, but there was no trace of Samuel when Rebekka let him into her apartment.

  Still he asked, “Are you alone?”

  “Well, Raoul’s not back yet, but he doesn’t turn into a pumpkin before twelve. Not like a pregnant woman who begins to wilt on the vine after nine.” She smiled but he noticed she didn’t invite him past the entryway.

  “You don’t look wilted,” he said, glancing into the sitting room. “Ah, I see you received the flowers. They look nice there on the coffee table.”

  “Yes, I—” Her cheeks flamed. “I didn’t call to thank you, did I? I’m sorry, I’ve been . . . I love them. They’re lovely.”

  “You thanked me before, remember? Besides, I didn’t send them for the thanks.”

  “Then why did you?” Rebekka looked immediately sorry for the words. “Forget that,” she muttered. “I don’t know why I always lose it when you’re—never mind. Tell me, why are you here? Do you know how late it is?”

  “You’d said we’d talk later. It’s later.” André was distinctly aware of her closeness, the smoothness of her hair, the fourteen freckles on her face, the smell of her perfume—of everything about her. Of the fact they were alone.

  “I didn’t mean tonight.”

  What should he do? Should he kneel on the floor and confess his love? Should he take her in his arms and kiss her? The urge to do that very thing was so strong, he almost couldn’t stop himself. “Rebekka . . .” the sound came out strangled.

  “What?” There was a wariness in her eyes now, or had it been there all along?

  He took a step toward her. She didn’t back away but stared at him. He forced himself to continue, his heart bursting with emotion. “Rebekka, I asked you to marry me before, but what I didn’t tell you was that I—I love you. I have loved you for a very long time.”

  Her mouth dropped open slightly, and he could see the pearl-white of her teeth. With one movement he pulled her into his arms, pressed his lips against hers. There was a startled look in her eyes, but she responded. The kiss was sweet—everything he had imagined.

  “I’ve waited so long,” he murmured against her cheek. “Marry me. I need you. You need me. Tell me you love me just a little?”

  Then the moment was abruptly over. “I—I . . .” Her hand went to her mouth. Tears welled in her gray eyes, threatening to storm over.

  His hands were still touching her arms. “What is it, Rebekka? What is it? I know it’s soon. Way too soon. But I want to be your husband and a father to your baby. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just tell me I have a chance. Tell me you still feel a little of what you felt for me before you married Marc. Please.”

  She backed away from him, eyes wide and luminous, her lips parted. “I—André . . . I . . .” Her head shook back and forth ever so slowly.

  A sinking feeling formed in the pit of André’s stomach. “Rebekka, I should have told you sooner that I loved you. But how could I with Marc . . . gone. Please don’t look at me like that. I would never hurt you or take advantage of you.”

  At that she straightened and took a deep breath. “André, I care about you very much, and I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. But I—I don’t love you. Not in that way. It would never work between us.”

  “What do you mean it won’t work? I felt your response just now. Please, at least give me a chance. Let me show you how good our life could be.”

  “No,” her voice was stronger now. “I can’t. I promised Samuel. We’re dating now.”

  He shut his eyes and willed himself to be calm, to not feel the old pain, now renewed to a tortuous high.

  “I’ll be happy now,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “You will have kept your promise to Marc.”

  “This isn’t about Marc! This is about us. I don’t care about my promise to Marc except that it gave me the permission to follow my heart. I love you, Rebekka. I love you.”

  Her hand fell to her side. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you any different.” She paused and added, “You called Samuel. I should thank you for that. But if you lo—why? Why did you call him?”

  There was a bitter taste in his mouth. “Because I made a mistake. I was discouraged about the chances of you letting me into your life, and . . .” He paused to steady his voice before he lost his composure completely. “I guess I’d rather lose you than hurt you.”

  She had no answer to that, but it didn’t matter because he wasn’t finished. He had waited too long and co
me too far to give up now. “Years ago I made a similar choice—because I knew Marc loved you more than life, and because I knew you loved him. But I won’t let you go again.” He pointed at her chest. “I am going to fight. And make no mistake, this time I’m going to win.”

  Then because he couldn’t bear to leave her without touching her at least once more he closed the few steps between them and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Rebekka. You. Don’t forget that.”

  He turned on his heel and strode from the apartment.

  * * *

  For the second time that evening, Rebekka watched a man leave her apartment. But this time her pulses raced and every fiber of her being demanded that she run after him and beg him to stay. But she couldn’t. Now that André had told her the truth, she was separated from him by an even a larger gulf than before. Not because she didn’t care for him—she was beginning to very much—but because in that timeless moment when he kissed her she had forgotten Marc. In that singular, exciting, thrilling moment, she had forgotten the years she had loved her husband, had forgotten even that she carried his baby.

  If she allowed herself to love André, she might lose sight of Marc. To her that was the ultimate unfaithfulness.

  She didn’t cry. She forced herself not to cry. There had already been too many tears, and she had the baby to think of now. Slowly, she wandered down the hall.

  Rebekka was sliding beneath the covers when she heard the key in the lock. André? her heart asked, but that was ridiculous. He didn’t have a key? Or did he? She remembered the morning of her doctor’s appointment. How had he gotten in? She would have to remember to ask.

  The door to her bedroom slowly opened, and Rebekka saw her brother framed in the light of the hall. “Are you awake?” he asked, blinking blindly in the dark.

  “Yeah, I’m awake.”

  He moved forward soundlessly on the carpet and sat down on the foot of her bed as she rose to a sitting position. “I need to talk to someone for a minute.”

  “That’s fine.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “I don’t know if I could sleep anyway.”

  “Did something happen with Samuel?”

  “No, not really.” Then she remembered her plan. Now it was more important than ever that she pretended to be involved with Samuel. “That is, yes. He’s really a great guy. I’ll be seeing more of him.” She felt guilty at the lie, but what else could she do? Raoul and André worked together every day and Raoul would likely slip if she were to let him in on her secret.