Ties That Bind Read online

  Her husband, Mathieu, wandered into the kitchen. “What’s up with Larissa?” He came to stand behind Marie-Thérèse’s chair and began massaging her shoulders with his strong hands. She lifted her face for his morning kiss, feeling the stubble on his unshaven face. A wave of love surged through her. As he sat at the table she hummed to herself. Life wasn’t perfect, not even near so, but it was good. Really good.

  A loud crash came from the direction of Larissa’s room. Mathieu sighed. “I hope it’s not the window again. No, you stay here, hon. I’ll go see what it is this time.”

  Marie-Thérèse grimaced. He was too easy on Larissa, but she didn’t feel up to facing her daughter again. Tears came to her eyes and the good feelings she’d felt vanished. For a moment, she really wanted to move to America, away from Larissa. What was she doing wrong?

  * * *

  Larissa threw herself on her bed. First her Mom and Dad wouldn’t let her go on the ski trip to Switzerland with Jolie’s family, and now this bit about a new baby.

  It would have been so great—days on the slopes with no one to tell her what to do. Jolie’s parents believed in letting their daughter make her own decisions. And why not? Twelve and a half for a girl was almost an adult, wasn’t it? Larissa knew how to cook—well, at least a few dishes—how to wash clothes if she cared to, and how to use the metro and bus system. What else was there to know? And it wasn’t as if Switzerland was that far away.

  Early this past summer she and her family had traveled to Switzerland on a temple trip with the ward. There, she had been baptized on behalf of deceased relatives whose genealogy her mom had researched. She sighed. The wonderful feeling she’d experienced when she had gone down into the water had stayed with her a long time, but when she’d tried to explain it later to Jolie, her friend had made fun of the idea of baptizing dead people. “What do they care anyway?” she’d said. “They’re dead!”

  Larissa no longer talked to Jolie about that stuff. Jolie was cool and she didn’t want to be an outcast. Right now she was one of the “in” group, and she wanted to stay that way.

  She sat up and picked up a large, hollow glass apple from her nightstand. Slowly, her gaze traveled the room. I won’t share it, she told herself. I simply won’t. Having another person in here going through her things . . . no, she wouldn’t allow it.

  Brandon would. He didn’t care who touched his things. He didn’t care if his books were stacked on the nightstand, on the shelf, or on the floor, while she enjoyed having everything in its place.

  Like Mom, came a thought.

  No, I’m not like her at all. She wants to fill up this apartment with little Brandons who do exactly what she says.

  Why did Brandon do everything Mom wanted? She smiled grimly. I’ll bet he wouldn’t if he knew the secret—if he knew that when Mom first got pregnant with him, she didn’t even want him.

  Over the years, Larissa had heard her mom and Aunt Josette talking about this “secret” when they thought she wasn’t listening. Apparently there had been some trouble between her parents—Larissa wasn’t sure just what, except that it was about money—and Mom hadn’t wanted another baby.

  How funny! Now Mom would give anything to have a baby!

  She knew that this was why her mother favored Brandon. She was still trying to make up for those first few months of rejection. Ha! As if Brandon had ever known.

  The result was the same. Her mother loved him more than she loved Larissa, and he went along with everything she said while Larissa had to question everything to know for herself.

  She doesn’t want anyone to question her church, she thought.

  Her church?

  Larissa shivered. Didn’t she believe in the gospel?

  Maybe she didn’t even care.

  Larissa’s grip on the glass apple tightened as she contemplated her rebellion. The glass apple fell apart in her hands, spilling the several silver necklaces she had stored inside onto the floor. It made her angry, and in a moment of rage she hurled the apple after them. It slammed into the wood floor with a loud crash, and the apple shattered.

  Tears flooded Larissa’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. She sat staring unhappily at the jagged pieces.

  A tap sounded at her door, and then her father walked in. “What happened?”

  “I dropped my apple,” she said, blinking furiously.

  “That’s okay. Look honey, I’ll help you clean it up.”

  Larissa wished he wouldn’t be so nice because then she could get angry.

  He was back in a moment with a broom, a dustpan, and a small plastic trash bin they kept in the bathroom. She picked out the necklaces and watched as he swept the apple up and into the trash.

  That’s what happens to people who don’t believe, she thought. Parents sweep them away and replace them with perfect little Brandons.

  Chapter Nine

  Rebekka lay in bed at the transplant clinic, staring up at the ceiling. She was so nervous she couldn’t think straight. It had all been so easy, the decision to give Marc her kidney, calling in favors owed to their families, making the appointments. But now that the moment of truth had come, she wanted to run from the hospital and hide where no one could ever find her.

  Of course, she wouldn’t do that. People were depending on her: Marc’s parents, his siblings, his friends. Not to mention Marc himself. She would never desert him. The love she felt in her heart had grown these past weeks until it filled her entire being, except the small part that was paralyzed with this overwhelming fear.

  She was relieved when her parents came into the room.

  “How are you doing?” Danielle asked, rushing to her side.

  “Fine,” Rebekka managed to say. “They’re just about ready to take me to surgery. Marc’s coming to see me first.”

  Danielle shivered. “You’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”

  Rebekka wanted to cry. She wasn’t brave, she was scared witless. But she couldn’t tell her mother that. Danielle had experienced enough trials in her life being married to Philippe, and Rebekka wasn’t going to add to them. Besides, she couldn’t admit to Danielle that she wanted to run away, that she wished desperately not to go through with the surgery.

  They talked of inconsequential things while Rebekka agonized inside. When they ran out of conversation, Philippe turned to Danielle and spoke, “Why don’t you see what’s taking Marc? I’ll stay and keep Rebekka company.”

  Danielle kissed Rebekka. “I’ll be right back, dear.”

  “Thanks, Mother.”

  After Danielle left, Philippe watched Rebekka for a full minute without speaking. Then he said, “How are you really?”

  His perceptiveness took her by surprise. Of course, as a successful banker he had learned to read people. Why shouldn’t he use his talents with his offspring?

  “I—I’m . . .” She had been going to say “fine,” but the words wouldn’t come. “Daddy, I’m scared.”

  He stiffened. She knew it was because she hadn’t called him anything but Father since before her teenage years. She clearly remembered making that decision. He had mocked the teachings of her church, and she, burning with the testimony of youth, had purposely become more formal with him. Why had she done it? At the time she thought she was punishing him, but now she realized she had done it to protect herself from his mockery. The change hadn’t been completely her fault either. He had encouraged her fear of him with the barely controlled anger beneath his smooth, educated surface.

  “Do you want me to stop this?” he asked, relaxing slightly. He cleared his throat. “If Marc really loves you, he’ll understand.”

  “No,” she said without hesitation. “I love him. I would die for him, and he would do the same for me. If he knew how I felt right now he’d never let me . . . you won’t tell him!”

  “Of course not.” The skin on his brow furrowed, and then he said awkwardly, “You know that I love you, Rebekka, don’t you?”

  Rebekka couldn’t be sure, but sh
e thought he blinked away tears. “I know you love me. You’ve never left me in doubt about that. And you have always taken such good care of Mother.” Yes, despite the anger she often saw burning just beneath the surface, Rebekka knew her father cared passionately for her mother and deeply for her and Raoul. It was never his heart she questioned, only his methods. “Daddy,” she said, “I need you to pray for me.”

  He looked surprised, but the expression quickly turned into one of dismay. “I can’t . . .” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  “I know you’re not a member of my church,” Rebekka said hurriedly, “but you do believe in Christ. I know you do. Ever since that day when I was five and Marc’s dad gave Mom a blessing and she lived. You believe in Christ or God or something. Can’t you pray to them to watch over me?” Her voice trembled. “Please. I need you to pray for me.”

  She waited, not knowing what to expect. Refusal? Anger? Embarrassment? Escape? What would he do? She reached out a hand, praying that he wouldn’t leave. Her feelings of vulnerability hadn’t been this strong since she had faced Marc in Utah before he had proposed.

  But to tell this secret to her father? What had possessed her to open up to him? Yet Rebekka knew the answer. It was because of the defeat she had seen in his eyes the day she had told him of her plans to give Marc the kidney, because of her sudden understanding that he, too, was a child of God. The realization had made him human, capable of giving her the reassurance she so urgently needed.

  He took her hand, and in a minute she was in his arms. “Rebekka, I wish you wouldn’t do this. There’s still time . . .”

  She didn’t reply but relished her father’s embrace. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

  “I love you too. I love you very much.”

  Rebekka’s fear seemed to lessen. “Pray for me.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Philippe drew away slowly. “Come in.”

  Jean-Marc and André entered. “We’ve come to give you a priesthood blessing,” André announced. “I know you thought we forgot you, but we didn’t.”

  “I’m rather unforgettable,” Rebekka said lightly, squelching her fear.

  André grinned. “Hey, I should’ve been the one to say that. It’s certainly true. Anyway, Marc and Raoul will be along in a minute to help us, but Dad thought you might want another blessing beforehand.”

  Jean-Marc glanced at Philippe in apology. “Sort of a future father-in-law’s blessing, if you don’t mind.”

  Philippe appeared relieved. “We were just talking about that. Why don’t I go and see what’s taking Marc while you talk to Rebekka? I sent Danielle, but she’s not back yet.”

  “I’ll go with you,” André offered. “I’m not needed here yet.”

  Philippe gave a final kiss to Rebekka and the two men left.

  “I hope I didn’t offend your father,” Jean-Marc said.

  Rebekka stared briefly at the door before meeting his gaze. “I don’t know if you did or not. I have the strangest feeling that I don’t know my father very well at all. Perhaps all these years I’ve seen only what I expected to see.” She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “But thank you for coming. I do need a blessing. I’m rather nervous.”

  “I’ll bet.” Jean-Marc moved closer to the bed. “Rebekka, I’ve known you since you were five, and I have to say that I’m very proud of the way you’ve grown up. I know it hasn’t been easy not having the priesthood in your home, but you and Raoul both have been very strong. I’m proud of you.”

  “You were always there for us when we needed you,” she answered. “You or one of your family. Thank you.”

  Jean-Marc chuckled. “Well, now that you’re finally taking my son off my hands, I hope to be there even more. Not to put any pressure on you or anything, but I don’t have any grandsons who carry my name yet.”

  “I see. I guess I’ll have to do my best to remedy that.” Rebekka laughed softly. As Jean-Marc raised his hands to her head, she caught his hand in hers. “Thank you for making me laugh. I feel a lot better already.”

  “I’m glad.”

  As though able to see her thoughts, Jean-Marc blessed her with peace and strength. Despite Rebekka’s wish that her own father could have been the one to bless her, she was very grateful to Jean-Marc. The overwhelming fear faded to a nervous feeling in her stomach, not gone completely but manageable.

  * * *

  After the nurses stopped fussing over Marc, he was allowed to see Rebekka. They took him to her room in a wheelchair, which would have annoyed him further if he hadn’t felt so weak.

  The past few days had been long and trying. He’d experienced another collapse earlier in the week and the doctors had almost decided to give him a permanent catheter in his neck to receive emergency dialysis, if necessary. But after a priesthood blessing and an adjustment in medication, he was again stable. The doctor warned that if he had another collapse, or if Rebekka’s kidney was rejected, they would have to begin dialysis anyway. It would be a last resort, given Marc’s poor reaction to it in his youth.

  Ariana, André, Raoul, and Danielle accompanied Marc to see Rebekka. She looked beautiful as always, despite the green hospital garb, but her gray eyes looked larger than normal, and her face was pale. He wondered if she was afraid.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered as he hugged her.

  She smiled. “Just a little nervous. I’m fine. Really.” He knew her well enough to know it was the truth. If she had been fearful he would have called the whole thing off, regardless of what anyone could say. He wouldn’t exploit her love.

  “Where’s your father?” Danielle asked Rebekka.

  “He left to find you.” Rebekka frowned and tightened her hand on Marc’s. “I guess he’s not coming back. I think he’s a little worried.”

  After giving Rebekka a priesthood blessing himself, Marc felt much better. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, when the nurse indicated that it was time to go. He kissed her slowly, wishing the surgery was already behind them.

  “I’ll be waiting for you,” Rebekka whispered against his mouth. Since her surgery began first, she would be awake long before him. “Afterward, we’ll have wheelchair races down the hall,” she added.

  He smiled weakly. “Wheelchairs? They told me they’d make us walk.”

  “It’s time to go,” said a nurse for what must have been the third time.

  He hugged Rebekka again, knowing that after this day their relationship would never be the same. By her sacrifice, she would be giving him the gift of life all over again.

  “I love you,” he said fiercely.

  “I love you, too.”

  They wheeled her from the room, and Marc returned to his bed, where his sisters were waiting to see him, but he was unable to relax. He alternately prayed and stared vacantly into space.

  After a few hours, a nurse appeared. “Well, your fiancée’s kidney is safely out. Right now Dr. Juppe is preparing the kidney’s blood vessels for implantation and Dr. Blainville is closing her abdomen. Everything is going perfectly, and she will be taken to recovery very soon.” She smiled. “That means it’s your turn. Let’s go.”

  But Marc insisted upon hearing that Rebekka was in recovery and doing well before submitting to his own surgery. It would be too much to take if he awoke and found that something had gone wrong.

  * * *

  Rebekka awoke, feeling disoriented. She felt someone grab her hand. “Marc,” she murmured, forcing her eyes open to see her mother next to the bed.

  “He’s still in surgery,” Danielle told her. “They said so far everything is going well.”

  Rebekka felt as though she’d been trampled by a wild horse. She closed her eyes again, thanking the Lord that her half of the surgery had gone well and praying that Marc’s would also go smoothly.

  She dozed for the next few hours until her father appeared in the doorway. Rebekka vaguely wondered when he had returned and where he had be
en. “Marc’s out of surgery,” he announced. “Your kidney started working right away. They say he should feel better soon.”

  Rebekka breathed a sigh of relief. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized the weight of worry she’d carried. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered.

  She had meant it as a prayer to her Heavenly Father, but Philippe answered. “You’re welcome. I—I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “Can I see him?” she asked.

  Philippe shook his head. “They’ll let us know when he’s awake and able to have company.”

  Five hours after her surgery, Rebekka still had not been allowed to see Marc. Meanwhile, two nurses came into the room and urged her to sit up in bed, then move to a chair, and lastly to take a few steps. Rebekka thought it was much too soon, based on the awful pain and weakness she felt, but the nurses assured her the movement would aid her recovery.

  “I guess I asked for it,” she joked. The nurses laughed, but her parents only watched her efforts wordlessly, concern etched on their faces.

  Rebekka finally saw Marc after dinner. The nurses had put him through the same torture they had inflicted upon her, but he was smiling when they wheeled her bed into his room. He reached out and gripped her hand. His touch was warm and firm, and already he looked much stronger than before the surgery. “We survived!” he said triumphantly.

  “Of course we did.” She grimaced. “Except I think I’m going to make a complaint about the horse they allowed to walk all over me while I was unconscious.”

  He started to chuckle, but it turned to a groan. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Now the waiting began as they watched to see if Marc’s body would accept Rebekka’s precious gift.

  Chapter Ten

  Philippe Massoni left the hospital at dinnertime, knowing Rebekka was in good hands. She was much more composed and happy now that the surgery was behind her. Philippe knew he certainly was.