This Time Forever Page 36

  A new rush of tears blurred her vision, and she wiped at her eyes impatiently, hating her weakness. She’d always been taught to make a decision and then to pray about it, but she hadn’t done that since leaving France. Once she even had prayed for Marc to love her. He never had.

  Tears continued to fall, despite her efforts to stop them. She felt the stares of the other passengers. An older lady leaned over the aisle. “Are you all right, dear?”

  Rebekka nodded and looked down at the bookmark in her hand, purposely allowing her long hair to hide her face. Stop it, she ordered herself. You’ll be a mess when you land. What will Samuel think?

  Dear God, she prayed. What’s wrong with me?

  “You don’t have to go, you know,” the old woman said in a firm voice. “If you’re that upset, why don’t you stay? Is it really worth it? There’s always tomorrow. God’s time, you know, is different from ours.”

  Rebekka lifted her eyes and stared at the woman, whose white hair was cut short and immaculately styled. Wrinkles gathered closely around her eyes, which twinkled with kind understanding. Next to her was an equally aged man who was reading a magazine, one hand clasping his wife’s.

  Many thoughts went through Rebekka’s head as she stared at this loving woman who had so much concern for a complete stranger. Rebekka realized that she wanted the kind of relationship the woman seemed to share with her companion.

  Now that she thought about it, love and companionship were so much more than learning to like five-way chili. Could she develop such a deep and lasting bond with Samuel? Perhaps in everything save religion. But was she willing to forsake her God even that much?

  Never.

  Her heart felt like it would burst with the pain. No! She could not abandon her God, her Father in Heaven. He meant too much to her.

  Then why was she so willing to settle for a relationship that didn’t fit her eternal plans? She didn’t love Samuel, not yet. Given her lingering feelings for Marc, she probably wasn’t ready to love anyone, and pursuing a relationship with Samuel wouldn’t be fair to either of them, even if he shared her religious beliefs.

  She’d thought she was free from her obsession with Marc, but she wasn’t. All this time she’d been trying to replace him. She could see it so clearly now. First she’d gone after Damon as a substitute because of his similar age, and when that hadn’t worked, she had practically fallen into Samuel’s arms. Anything not to be alone.

  All because of Marc.

  So what now?

  She lifted her chin, still staring at the elderly couple. Millions of women had dealt with broken hearts. She was strong and would survive. She wasn’t going to waste a second more of her life questioning her worth simply because she didn’t have a man at her side. I’m a daughter of God, and I’ll get down on my knees and pray to be happy. And I will be.

  A strange euphoria filled her, and Rebekka felt light and free. Happy. The Father rewards those who follow Him, she thought, acknowledging the source of her happiness. Forgive me, Father, for not understanding until now.

  She stood, dragging her flight bag with her. “Thank you,” she whispered to the lady. “Thank you so much.”

  She ran down the aisle and off the plane, stopping to tell the gate attendant that she would not be on the flight. Passengers were still boarding, but Rebekka walked away, not looking back. Taking a deep breath, she went into the rest room to fix her face. She had some honest talking to do with Marc that evening.

  She was through with hinting. She was going to tell him how she felt and get it out of her system once and for all. Maybe then they could be friends again. More tears started behind her eyes, but this time the melancholy was tempered by a sweet feeling of relief.

  She spent a long time in the rest room, collecting her wits and repairing her makeup. When she was almost ready to leave, a blonde woman in an airline uniform came into the room. “Excuse me,” she said, “but do you speak French?” At Rebekka’s nod, she continued. “Then I really need your help. I don’t think one of our passengers realizes he’s at the wrong gate.”

  * * * * *

  Marc looked up not into the airline attendant’s eyes, but Rebekka’s. Her thick auburn locks perfectly framed her oval face and did absolutely nothing to hide the red-rimmed eyes. He jumped to his feet in surprise. “But you’re—” He glanced out the window where he’d seen her plane leave.

  “The lady at the desk told me you were here,” she said. He couldn’t believe how soft and wonderful her voice was, although her French sounded slightly Americanized.

  “I was in the ladies’ room,” Rebekka continued. “She came in a minute ago and said she needed someone who spoke French. She says you’re at the wrong gate.”

  Marc sent a look of pure gratitude to the lady behind the desk. She smiled at him and turned back to a conversation with a fellow employee.

  “Marc, I—” Rebekka began.

  But Marc had planned what he would do from the minute he’d lost her. He fell to his knees on the worn carpet, taking her hand in his, uncaring of all the stares. “Dearest Rebekka, I love you. I didn’t know it before, but I do now. That’s why I’m here. I’ve been a fool—I know that. Please, please forgive me! I love you, and I want nothing more in this whole world than to marry you!”

  Her mouth opened in surprise, and her face suddenly paled. For a moment, Marc thought she would faint. Instead, she eased into the seat he’d vacated. She blinked twice, but still didn’t speak. Her hand was limp in his grasp.

  “I know you might love this Samuel guy, but you love me, too, don’t you? Rebekka, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy, if you’ll just give me a chance. I miss you so much! I can’t live without you!”

  “What about my mother?” she asked slowly.

  Marc knew then that he had lost. If she knew about Danielle, she would never believe that he loved her and not her mother. Yet he had to try. He gripped her hand more tightly. “It’s always been you, Rebekka. What I felt for Danielle was a young boy’s crush, but it was replaced years ago by my feelings for you. I didn’t even know it until you were gone. I swear that’s the truth. Everyone knew it—my mom, André, Raoul. And you. Only I was too blind, too scared, too much of an idiot—”

  She put her fingers over his lips to silence the words, tears streaming down her face. Leaning forward, she pressed her cheek against his. Oh, no. Here it comes, he thought, and knew he deserved every bit of the letdown she would give him.

  “Part of me wants to hit you,” she said softly, huskily, “for all the years I’ve waited to hear you say those words. Part of me would like to string you up by your toes and leave you there for at least a month . . . without food or water.” She pulled away from him slightly, and he could see her grimace. “Or air, for that matter.”

  He held his breath, waiting for what would come next.

  “But I’m not going to waste one more second of our life together.” She met his gaze without wavering. “I will marry you, Marc Perrault, and I’ll make you the best wife you ever dreamed of.” Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly, and her voice deepened and sounded odd, as though she was fighting tears. “And you’d better make me the best husband ’cause you’re getting old and you won’t have another chance.”

  Marc couldn’t believe his ears. He whooped and caught Rebekka up in his arms, bringing them both to their feet. He hugged her tightly, his happiness suddenly so large and all-encompassing that it threatened to take flight.

  She laughed at him, her gray eyes full of love. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He held her more tightly, this precious gift. He would love her for as long as they had left in this life, and then forever after.

  “Rebekka,” he murmured into her hair. Their lips met for a long, searching moment, their first real kiss in the almost twenty years they’d known each other. Her skin was incredibly soft, her sweet scent intoxicating. Emotions flooded his entire being, penetrating him to the core. For a brief instant, he felt an aching for the y
ears he’d wasted, for the years they’d not held each other . . . until the memories of their long friendship washed the pain away. Today wasn’t a day for regrets, but a day for looking toward the future. And, like Rebekka, he wasn’t going to waste another second of it.

  “I see you found her.”

  Marc reluctantly looked up and saw Brionney watching them, a satisfied smile on her face.

  “Yes, and I’m never going to let her go.” Marc held Rebekka’s hand and gazed at her lovingly. He became aware of other eyes upon them. In fact, everyone around them was staring and smiling their approval.

  “You should have seen the talking I had to do to get through security without a ticket,” Brionney said. “They only gave me a special pass when I told them you could barely understand English.”

  “Uh, excuse me.” It was the employee from the airline desk. “Will you still be needing that flight?”

  Marc took his eyes only briefly from Rebekka’s face. “No. I do not need it now.”

  The blonde lady laughed. “I didn’t think so. I have it all ready to cancel.”

  “Boy, you’re good,” Brionney said admiringly.

  The attendant laughed and lowered her voice. “Just don’t tell the airline. I’m supposed to sell flights, not cancel them.”

  Rebekka touched the attendant’s shoulder fleetingly. “Thanks.” She looked at Marc again, and he felt himself melt into her gray eyes. His knees were uncharacteristically weak. How long would it take them to get married? Could they do it here? Tomorrow, maybe?

  Rebekka must have been thinking the same thing. “We’ll have to tell our parents. They’ll want to be here.” She frowned. “My dad won’t like me being married in a church ceremony, but he’ll have to get used to the idea.”

  “He’s already had a long time to get used to it,” Marc said gently. “You’ve been a member a lot of years.”

  Brionney clapped her hands together, her short white hair dancing around her like a halo. “Does this mean what I think it does?” When they nodded, she continued exuberantly, “Finally! Come on. Let’s get out of here so we can start making plans.”

  With one arm still possessively about Rebekka, Marc followed Brionney down the wide corridor. He’d never felt so content in his entire life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  In the end, Rebekka and Marc discarded the idea of eloping and decided to travel to France to personally announce their pending wedding to their families. Rebekka had especially worried about her mother’s reaction if they did elope. “I’m the only daughter she has, and she won’t get another chance to plan a wedding.” She was relieved when Marc agreed without too much reluctance. Of course, she knew that he found it hard to deny her anything at the moment, and she reveled in his love. She’d dreamed of it for so long, and now he was finally hers.

  She couldn’t stand to be separated from Marc for a moment, and seeing this, Jesse and Damon hired a replacement and gave her a month off, telling the disappointed Samuel that he would have to do without her for a while. Rebekka was grateful for the time, not knowing exactly what her future held, or where she would be in a month . . . except, of course, with Marc. It had always been him. She wondered if any woman in the world had ever been happier.

  Rebekka felt her decision to return home to plan their wedding was even more inspired when she received an e-mail from Raoul on Friday morning, the day before their flight to Paris.

  Dearest Rebekka,

  I’m afraid you will not be content when you learn that Desirée and I have eloped. While her decision not to be baptized or attend meetings with me has broken my heart, I cannot live without her. Please find it in your heart to understand and forgive. Father and Mother have made a fairly happy life together, and I will do the same. André tells me I’ve made a poor decision, that I’m giving up my chance of an eternal family for immediate pleasure. Could it be true? Could I be giving up someone I could love more than Desirée? I cannot believe so, and yet . . .

  Rebekka, dear sister, I’m so confused, but I MUST be with her. We eloped to evade her parents as well as our mother. Desirée was afraid this was our only chance, and I had to agree. I am determined to keep up my church attendance, and will pray that she eventually sees the light of the gospel for what it is. I love her. I really do.

  Love from your brother, the happy fool

  Rebekka mourned Raoul’s decision to marry outside their faith, but she didn’t blame him. Hadn’t she been about to turn to Samuel in the face of Marc’s rejection? Though she had decided in the end not to pursue the relationship, she could have so easily boarded that plane and gone to him. Samuel would have loved her and treated her well—of that she was certain. But how long would that have been enough? How long would Raoul and Desirée be happy? Would their differing views pull them apart? Would she finally embrace the truth, or would he desert his faith and his family for his wife?

  Later that evening, Rebekka was sitting on the couch in Brionney’s living room, thinking of Raoul and his dilemma. Her heart was heavy, despite her own happiness. Marc came from the kitchen, where he’d been stirring the contents of a boiling pot for Brionney, and settled beside her. “Why so glum?” he asked, encircling her with his arms. Before she could reply, he added, “It’s Raoul, isn’t it?”

  Tears smarted in her eyes, not only because of her worry for her brother, but because of Marc’s intuitiveness. They knew each other so well! How could she ever have thought of living without him at her side? His friendship was every bit as important as his newly awakened passion for her.

  “It’ll be all right,” Marc murmured in her ear. “We’ll be there to help him. We’ll love him no matter what.”

  She rested her cheek against his shoulder, grateful for his strength, wondering how she’d survived these months without his ready grin and constant support. He kissed her cheek and leaned against the back of the couch, pulling her tightly against him. Rebekka felt safe and loved.

  Brionney burst into the room with a camera. “I got the film. What a cute picture!” She snapped a few shots. “Great! I’ll send you a copy for your album.” Taking another quick picture, she darted into the kitchen, where the oven timer had begun shrilling loudly.

  “You’d think this was a wedding reception, for all the fuss Brionney’s going through.” Marc reached out to grab a handful of nuts from a dish on the corner lamp table.

  Brionney was having a going-away-engagement party for them and had invited everyone Rebekka knew, as well as a dozen old friends and their families. Except for stopping to nurse the twins, Brionney had done nothing but plan, shop, and bake for the past three days. Jesse laughingly complained that he was having to change altogether too many diapers, and since he never used less than six baby wipes with each diaper—all at the same time—he’d stopped at the store to buy five large containers.

  Rebekka reached for the nuts, but Marc brought a few to her lips. She licked his fingers, and he kissed her lingeringly. “I wish this was our wedding day,” he said in a low voice.

  She kissed him back. “Soon.” For the first time in her own life, she understood how comforting it was to have a relationship for eternity. Despite their anxiousness to be married, there was no real hurry.

  They forgot about the nuts, the party, and even Raoul as they sat blissfully in each other’s arms.

  * * * * *

  Mickelle stopped at the cemetery before going to the party for Marc and Rebekka. Bryan and Jeremy had walked to Brionney’s earlier with Tanner and Belle, and she planned to meet them there. Darkness seemed to fall earlier each night, and already the sun had set behind the mountain, obscuring most of its light. She paused for a moment to watch the brilliant reds and purples fade into the darkening sky.

  Each day that week she had spent the evening with Damon and his children, and each day she was more and more certain that she was falling in love with him. There’d been little opportunity to think, and at times she was so happy she was afraid it wouldn’t last.

/>   And she felt guilty.

  That was why she had come to talk to Riley. Since she began dating Damon, she hadn’t been able to talk to Riley at the house, as though the ghost of his presence had fled. But at his grave, she could feel him—an intangible essence, a whisper of his former self, but there all the same.

  “I know you might not be happy about this,” she explained in the utter stillness of the cemetery, “but it’s what I want. I know you loved me once . . . wanted my happiness. Can you understand?”

  The small headstone on his grave was covered in shadow. There were flowers there, too—roses like the ones almost dead on her bushes. Had someone visited recently? It was likely Bryan, who had been unusually pensive this week. He hadn’t spoken against her growing relationship with Damon as she’d feared, but he certainly wasn’t as happy about it as Jeremy.

  Despite Bryan’s apparent reservations, it was good for the boys to have a man around again. Jeremy still wasn’t wetting the bed, and both boys adored playing basketball with someone who genuinely enjoyed spending time with them. Damon was so good for them all. If only Riley could understand.

  Mickelle was the only living person in sight, although she could hear a few birds in the trees, now decked in their bright fall colors. A car or two passed on the road far behind her.

  She took a steadying breath. “I guess I’ve come to say I’m sorry about the way your life ended. I loved you so much.” She wiped away a stray tear. “I think maybe you are learning just how much I did love you . . . do love you. I wish more than I can say that things could be different—I really, really do—but since they can’t, I need to go on. The boys need to go on.” She blinked back a few more tears. “Will you give us your blessing?”

  Until that moment, she hadn’t understood how deafening silence could be. She felt a wild urge to laugh at herself, at her earnestness in talking to the dead.