Before I Say Goodbye Page 29

  I froze. “What are you saying?” Maybe she’d say she was leaving. I didn’t want her to go.

  Her face turned to mine, her fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Becca. I should have let Dante tell you, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  Except I already knew. I think I’d known the minute I’d seen all those prescription bottles at the hotel, or if not then, when Dante had come home from the hospital looking so beaten. Still, I listened as she told me about her tumor, about dying.

  “I can’t make my body work,” she said, a tear slipping from her eye. Finally, she let go of the steering wheel and sat back on the seat. I scooted over, put my arm around her, and leaned my head against hers.

  “I’m so sorry, Rikki.” I was sorry for her, for Kyle and James, and for myself, who was losing a friend before I really had time to love her, and for my husband, who would be tortured with helplessness. Having Rikki back in his life was challenging enough, but knowing that she was dying complicated everything.

  “I haven’t told the kids,” she whispered.

  I couldn’t begin to imagine how she felt about leaving her children, and the little bit I could imagine horrified me. If it were me, who would help Cory catch up with school? Who’d counsel Allia about makeup and boys and teach Lauren not only to make choices but to make good ones? Who would remind Dante to think before he punished Travis? Who would hold Dante at night when the cares of the ward were too heavy for him to bear alone?

  That Rikki faced death alone made it that much more terrible. I choked back tears.

  “Don’t cry,” she said. “It can’t change anything.”

  I felt profoundly sad. Rikki was the kind of person people gravitated toward, the kind people told their most inner feelings. She could have done so much good in the Church. She would have made a wonderful Young Women leader or a visiting teacher who mended lives. Instead, her choices had brought pain to her face and left her and her children adrift when she needed help the most.

  Not too late. Whether the impression came from my own heart or the Spirit made no real difference. We, as a ward family, could help Rikki be the person God had meant her to be. Sometimes it was only when people were at the most bitter place in their lives that they were finally willing to change. I’d seen it happen on my mission, I’d seen it happen in the lives of ward members. Please let it happen to Rikki.

  “You need to talk to Kyle,” I said. “She knows something’s up, and she’s terrified. She can see the difference in you. Kids are sensitive to these things.”

  Once, Rikki might have told me to mind my own business, perhaps adding a few coarse words to make sure that I did, but now she simply nodded. “I know, but I can’t tell her. I can’t.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You can, and you will.”

  “She’ll hate me.”

  “Maybe at first, but she’s a smart kid, and she’ll come around. You need to give her that time.”

  “Can’t you tell her?”

  “No, but I can be here if you want.”

  Rikki sighed. “I hate this. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  “You’re Rikki, the mother of two great kids, and my friend.”

  She lifted her head from where it still rested against mine. “I know what Dante sees in you, Becca. I see it too. I only wish I had more time so we could really be friends.”

  Her comment echoed the feelings of my heart, and for a full minute I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at her as I struggled not to cry. “Come on. Let’s get you into the house.”

  She didn’t resist as I helped her from the truck, though once outside, she paused and stared up at the gray mass of clouds. “I thought the sun was out a minute ago.”

  “It hasn’t been out at all this morning. Hopefully, the clouds will burn off by noon.”

  Rikki looked again at the clouds and then at me. A small smile touched her lips. I didn’t know how she could smile at all, but there it was. “I feel the heat.” Her hand went to her heart, as though holding in the warmth. What had happened in that truck before I arrived?

  We went up the drive into the kitchen door and through to her bedroom, moving with a deliberate carefulness. By contrast, my mind was going too fast. I’d have to call Charlotte and the Relief Society president. If she continued to deteriorate, Rikki couldn’t be left alone for long periods of time, especially when the children were around. Dinners and homework had to be taken care of. Grocery shopping. Her bills.

  As I settled her in bed, I thought of Saint George and how she’d talked of dying. I’d thought it was her mother she’d been talking about, but now I knew it was her own death. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying. If I’d been in Rikki’s shoes, I wouldn’t have wasted time on any gardens, no matter how beautiful or intricately organized. I’d be with my children every waking second, memorizing their faces and making sure they knew I loved them and how much the Church meant to me so they could hold those precious truths in their hearts long after I was gone.

  So why had Rikki gone with me and wasted so much time? Given her rapid decline, it hadn’t been good for her health. At the very least, she should be with her doctor, discussing alternate methods or seeking a medical trial to participate in.

  Maybe she’d done all that and more. Maybe she was ready.

  How could she be ready? She hadn’t even told her children.

  Then why had she felt inclined to go with me, to help me find my future?

  Rikki had closed her eyes and was breathing steadily. I could see the blotches left by earlier tears—tears likely shed as she contemplated leaving her children alone in the world.

  All at once, understanding flooded over me. I knew why Rikki had come to Saint George with me and why she’d tried to be my friend. Why she’d searched out Dante and come home to the very ward she’d grown up in. The prodigal daughter returned to the fold to share her past with her children and to trust her longtime friend with their care.

  “Oh, Rikki,” I said.

  She didn’t answer, and I knew she was asleep. I stared at her, studied the features that had become so familiar. How could I have missed the fact of how very ill she was? I’d seen the face of death before, but I hadn’t wanted to recognize it.

  She wanted too much. James was a lot of work all by himself, but he was still young and moldable. Even if his eyes became a serious handicap, Kyle’s needs far overshadowed his. Her expensive lessons, her upbringing that had no resemblance to the one enjoyed by my children, her sneakiness, her apparent attraction to Travis, to which he might not be completely immune. There were bound to be arguments about boys, curfews, and schoolwork. Maybe more arguments about drinking and drugs. Her poor influence might risk the eternal salvation of my own children. Not to mention that Kyle would forever remind my husband of his first love. Would Rikki, in dying too young and tragically, become his Beatrice?

  Yet Kyle was also a lost, lonely little girl with more talent and passion for dancing than I’d ever dreamed of. That desire might be a stabilizing factor. No matter how hellish the next few years of adjustments, she would eventually go off to New York to study dance, and just that fast the day-to-day conflicts would vanish. By then she would have a testimony—or not—and would make her own choices.

  A desire to help welled within me, but I knew all too well how quickly such an emotion could dissolve into duty and an overabundance of nightmares. I’d felt exactly that with Dante’s father.

  No, I thought. It’s too much. Had Dante been hiding this information? Had he expected me to raise Rikki’s children alone as I was practically raising his kids?

  I dismissed the thought even as it came. I would have seen that in him, and Rikki hadn’t told me, either. When would she? Or would she ever say it? Perhaps she’d planned to simply leave them with us one day and slink off to die on her own.r />
  I stood up and paced the length of the room. I didn’t know what to do. Wait. Yes, I did. I needed to call Charlotte on my cell so she could get the ball rolling with the Relief Society and compassionate service. For the moment at least, I could concentrate on that.

  I’d barely hung up after speaking with Charlotte when Rikki’s phone rang. I fished it from her purse lying on the floor next to the bed. “Hello?”

  “Rikki?” asked a man’s voice.

  “No, this is her friend Becca.”

  “Oh, yeah, the friend she went to Saint George with. This is Quinn, Quinn Hunter. I went to the hospital to see her, but they said she’d been released.”

  “Yeah, she’s here at her house, sleeping right now.”

  “Will you tell her I called?”

  “Sure, Quinn. I’ll tell her.”

  I’d barely replaced the phone in her purse when I realized Rikki was awake and watching me. She gave me a flat grin. “You know the irony of it? I think he might have been the one. After all the men I’ve dated all these years.”

  “Quinn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Him and not Dante?” There. I’d asked the question.

  Her head swung back and forth ever so slightly. “Not Dante, Becca. You are his Beatrice. Not me. I was never right for him. Oh, I told myself all these years that I was, that it was the Church that tore us apart, but now I see that it was me and my choices that did the tearing. Truth was, I didn’t know how to be ordinary back then, to stay in one place and build a future. But all Dante ever wanted was roots. You’re together now, and you’re in love. Please don’t waste your time together. I want Dante to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

  I leaned closer to her. “I’m sorry, Rikki.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Her hand touched mine. “Help me.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  What had I agreed to? I didn’t know, and neither did Rikki, but she seemed satisfied. I remembered how at the pool when she’d tried to stand and lost her balance I’d had to steady her. It made sense that the tumor in her head would have more side effects than headaches, but what would she do when there was no one to catch her?

  Of course that was why she’d come home to Utah. There was no one left. No one but Dante. And now me. No, not just us. The ward was here, too. And God. If only she could believe.

  “The sun,” Rikki murmured. “Becca, can you feel the sun?”

  The sun was still hiding behind the clouds and, if anything, the room was chilly.

  “No,” I said.

  “I can.”

  Maybe she already believed. Or was beginning to.

  I sat next to her on the bed and watched her sleep.

  * * *

  In the afternoon, I picked up the children—Rikki’s and mine—dropped my older children off at the house, and headed back to Rikki’s with Kyle, James, and Lauren.

  “Thank you so much,” Kyle said as I pulled up at Rikki’s, a smile on her thin face.

  “I guess you’re talking about the dance classes.” So much had happened since yesterday, I’d completely forgotten how new it all was to Kyle.

  “I know it was because of you,” she said. “I’m so—I—it—”

  “It wasn’t just me. I mean, I wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure how. It was Sister Gillman who reminded me that a lot of people would be happy to pitch in, that it wasn’t something anyone had to do alone.”

  “It won’t be forever.” Kyle’s words tumbled from her mouth. “I bet if I worked hard the next three or so years, I could learn enough to get a scholarship to a dance school in New York. I promise to work really hard.”

  Her earnestness touched me. The most emotion my children had shown about lessons was to ask in long-suffering voices how long they had to take piano. The answer was always the same—until they could play hymns well enough to accompany a congregation on their missions—but that didn’t stop them from asking.

  “Help me take in the groceries,” I said.

  Kyle looked over the backseat. “These are all for us?”

  “Your mom’s not feeling well. That’s why I’m doing the lesson with James at your house today. If you have homework, I can help you with it before you go to dance.”

  Kyle nodded, but her smile was gone. She waited until the younger children ran up the steps before saying, “Mom didn’t go to work, did she?”

  “No.”

  “It’s something horrible, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes held mine in an almost physical gesture, pleading. I nodded. “You need to talk with your mother. The sooner the better.” It was the first thing I could do for Rikki and Kyle—make them talk—but I hated every minute of it.

  “But what if she won’t tell me?”

  “She will. And no matter what, Kyle, remember you’re not alone.”

  Kyle nodded and said softly, “I know.”

  Charlotte met us at the front door. “Dinner’s ready to warm up in a couple hours,” she said, “and Teri’s coming over at five-thirty to take a shift. Then I’m coming back over later.”

  Kyle looked back and forth between us. “Where’s my mom?”

  Under Charlotte’s sympathetic gaze, I put an arm around Kyle’s shoulder and guided her down the hall.

  Rikki was lying on a bunch of pillows Charlotte must have brought. Perhaps they’d been the same pillows that had eased her during her battle with cancer. “Hi, sweetie,” Rikki said.

  “Hi.” Kyle’s expression was lost and forlorn.

  Rikki’s eyes turned to me, pleading.

  “It’s time,” I told Rikki with all the firmness I could muster. “Tell her everything. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  I left them then but stood outside the door in case I was needed. There was a muffled conversation and then nothing for a long time except quiet sobs. For the first time that day some of Rikki’s imaginary sun reached my heart. Kyle hadn’t thrown a fit or run out in anger, as we’d both feared. She had risen to the occasion and stayed with her mother. I wasn’t sure Allia would have been that grown up.

  Kyle’s special, I thought, and that was the real beginning.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Dante

  My friend was dying, and there was nothing I could do to help.

  No, I can help by finding someone to take her children. If the Flemmings weren’t so old, I’d recommend them, but with the heart attack, that was out of the question anyway. No one else in the ward immediately came to mind. No one who could have enough love while at the same time give Kyle much-needed discipline. There was, however, an old mission companion of mine who might fit the bill. They’d adopted two children already. Maybe they’d be interested in more.

  When I arrived home, the table was set and dinner was in the oven, but the house was quiet and no one greeted me at the door. I almost felt I’d walked into the wrong house. I wasn’t accustomed to the silence, to Becca not being there. I found her downstairs in the family room with the children, but the TV was off and no one was speaking.

  “Hi, everyone.”

  No one jumped up to hug me, though gazes turned in my direction.

  “Oh, Daddy,” Lauren said, her voice mournful, “did you hear? James’s mommy’s dying. She has a tumor in her head. That’s a big growth. A mass of tissue.”

  I met Becca’s eyes and was relieved that they were not accusing. “Yeah, I heard.” I sat down on the couch next to Becca. Lauren climbed from her lap into mine and put her arms around my neck, giving me much-needed comfort. Allia was sitting on the chair next to the couch, and the boys were sprawled on the floor.

  “When did you hear?” I asked Becca. There was a sadness in my wife’s face that I wished I could wipe away.

  “Rikki told me this morning. She wa
sn’t able to go to work today—she probably won’t be able to work again. She told Kyle and James after school. I stayed for an hour after she talked with Kyle.”

  “How’d Kyle take it?”

  “Better than I thought she would.” Was that a hint of pride in Becca’s voice? “She’s known for a long time that something was wrong. In a way, I think it was a relief for her to finally have it in the open. Someone from the ward is there now. We’re going to try to have someone there all the time. Rikki’s been struggling to keep it together for so long, and now it’s like . . . well, like she simply can’t anymore.”

  “That poor lady,” Travis mumbled.

  Allia sniffed. “Poor Kyle.”

  “Poor James.” Lauren gave a big sigh. “I guess he’s going to have to live with us now.”

  No one said anything to that, but a weight seemed to push down on my shoulders.

  “I should never have let her go to Saint George with me,” Becca said.

  I put an arm around her. “Honey, Rikki does what she wants—always has. There’s no way it’s your fault.”

  She frowned. “You should have told me, Dante. About the tumor.”

  “She wanted to tell you herself.”

  “No, that’s not what she wanted.” Becca looked ready to say more, but Allia stood up, drawing our attention.

  “I could share my room with Kyle,” she said.

  I arched a brow. “What’s all this talk? Rikki asked me to find a home for the kids, and I think I may have found someone.”

  “It’s us, Daddy.” Lauren gave me a scowl. “You can’t give James to someone else. He’d hate that.”

  Becca shook her head. “It has to be you, Dante. Don’t you see?”

  The room at once seemed too small, and I felt suffocated. “What are you talking about?”

  Becca took a deep breath. “Who else, Dante? Who on this earth knows what she went through as a child? Who knows her like you do? No one. Not one single person. Even after all these years, everything that made her who she is took place in those years, and you’re the one who lived them with her. You’re the only one she trusts to watch over her children when she’s gone, the only one who can remind them who she was. That’s what Rikki wants. She doesn’t have anyone else. You were her brother, her only true friend.” Becca was crying now. “She wanted to show us how great they are. She wanted you to volunteer. She wants you to be her hero.”