Twice in a Lifetime

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “I wouldn’t mind, but . . .” Zack trailed off when he saw his wife’s thunderous face. “Ah, we really have all we can handle right now. Five boys . . . maybe someday.”

  “But you have to have a girl,” Marée said. “Don’t they, Daddy?”

  André stifled the urge to pick up his youngest daughter and hold her tight. The eight-year-old was bursting with the excitement of being with her cousins and wouldn’t appreciate being confined. Maybe later as the party wound down she would deign to remember her father. Likely she would want him to carry her to the car. Her sister Ana, only a year older, would also beg for the ride, reverting for a few moments to the toddlers he remembered so well. Thank heaven they were both petite like their mother had been, or he wouldn’t be able to lift them both at the same time.

  “Isn’t Thierry coming home this weekend?” asked Louis-Géralde who had brought his date, Sophia. She was a very cute, shy blonde girl with pale blue eyes, whose facial features clearly showed her family’s Nordic heritage. She didn’t say much, but everyone liked her.

  “No. He has some studying he needs to do for a big test on Monday,” André replied. “He thought he’d better stay at school.”

  The buzzer in the entryway rang, startling André. Thank you, Father, he thought. Aloud he said, “It must be Rebekka downstairs.”

  Marée was already running to the door, racing with several other Perrault children. There were only eleven children in all, including Marie-Thérèse’s two extra, but André thought they always seemed to have the energy of twice that many. He wanted to go answer the door himself but resisted the urge.

  “It’s Valerie!” shouted Marée after talking into the intercom.

  “Oh, yes. I invited her,” Josette said.

  His mother came into the kitchen, wearing a flowing green dress that immediately brightened the room. “Invited whom?”

  “Valerie, the office manager at André’s office.”

  “Hey, it’s my office too,” Raoul joked, coming to his feet and extending a hand to Ariana. “And thank you for coming to the party, Sister Perrault.”

  Ariana laughed, her brown eyes sparkling. “Raoul, it’s good to have you. Jean-Marc will be out in a minute. He’s on the phone with some church business, but he’s hurrying.” She began setting out the best silverware, which she did at every family party.

  “Church business, eh?” André put in, though he really wasn’t listening. His ears still strained to hear another ring from the lobby.

  “She’s here!” a child screamed. André tensed, but they were just talking about Valerie who had arrived in the elevator.

  Everyone greeted Valerie, and Raoul changed chairs to sit by her. Talk moved to work and then to Raoul’s missing daughter. Rebekka had still not arrived.

  André was about to go look for her when the doorbell rang. This time he did go answer it, flanked by children. To his relief it was Rebekka, looking beautiful in a gold and brown outfit with flat dress loafers. She looked happy, as though she had been laughing. He drank in her face, her smooth hair, and her gray eyes.

  “Rebekka!” yelled Marée, throwing herself at her aunt. “We’ve been waiting sooooo long for you! Where have you been? Hurry and come in. We’re hungry, and Aunt Josette won’t let us have any treats until we have dinner.”

  “Well, we’d better hurry right in,” Rebekka said with a laugh.

  She gave André an uneasy smile and moved past him. It was then André noticed the person with her, though how he could have overlooked such a tall man was unexplainable.

  “André, this is Samuel,” Rebekka said. “You remember me telling you about him? His plane came in early, and I asked him to come along. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not. Welcome, Samuel.” André offered his hand to the stranger when what he really wanted to do was to shut the door in the man’s face.

  Samuel gave him a smile and a nod that acknowledged André’s part in his being there—but to André’s relief he didn’t saying anything about the phone call. Samuel was lean, tan, and his sandy-blond hair was cut longer on top in the latest mode. He was also the CEO of his own company—just the type of man Rebekka was likely to be attracted to. André wished again that he had not acted so impulsively.

  He followed them into the kitchen where everyone had gathered. Even the old grandparents were there, except Grandma Louise—his father’s mother—who had died peacefully in her bed last summer. His eyes drifted to Rebekka’s face. There was tenseness there now as the introductions were being made, but she was still smiling.

  She had been laughing.

  Maybe he hadn’t been wrong to call Samuel, after all, though his heart rebelled at the thought.

  His mother and the others welcomed Samuel with good grace. Apparently, he didn’t speak French, but when Zack discovered Samuel was from Cincinnati, he immediately involved him in a conversation about the Cincinnati Bengals. They spoke in English, and Samuel appeared at ease. Rebekka’s worried expression gradually faded, but André’s heart continued to ache—at what he wasn’t sure—and he was grateful when Marée came to sit on his knee.

  Jean-Marc Perrault, head of the family, came into the room, looking every day more distinguished as silver strands took their place in the once-dark head of hair. He grinned at the gathering, reminding André of Marc, though he knew he himself resembled his father even more than his brother had. Except for the grin—that only Marc had shared with his father.

  “Welcome everyone,” Jean-Marc said. “I’m glad you’ve all been able to come tonight. I don’t know exactly why this party was called, but I’m glad it was and that I didn’t have to do anything in the planning.” Amid the ensuing laughter he continued. “The balloons and streamers and the table set up was taken care of by my beautiful wife, and Josette, my equally lovely daughter, took care of all the food.”

  “Even the cake?” asked Marée.

  “Even the cake,” her grandfather confirmed solemnly. He held up a hand to avert further questioning. “Now I know there is an introduction that needs to be made, at least to me, but since I also know how hard it is to wait for cake, I suggest we go right to the prayer and begin our meal. We can find out all about our visitor as we eat. All right?” A chorus of cheers from both children and adults alike met his suggestion. “As the patriarch of this wonderful clan, it is my privilege to choose someone to say the prayer. And this time I choose myself since I would like to contribute in at least some way.” He took Ariana’s hand and bowed his head.

  André watched everyone else do the same. But for an instant, Rebekka’s eyes met his and they seemed to communicate—something. What?

  The prayer began and they both quickly lowered their heads. When the prayer was over, André tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t look his way again. Had she felt the bond between them, or was it only in his imagination?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rebekka felt as if she were under a microscope. Did the Perrault family think she was dating Samuel? Did they wonder if she planned to move to America again? Maybe she should. Not with Samuel, of course, but on her own.

  But she knew she couldn’t. Not with Marc’s child anyway. He deserved to know both sets of grandparents, and the aunts, uncles, and cousins. She wasn’t about to sever that link. Besides, she didn’t know if she could survive without their support. Her mother would especially be devastated to have her grandchild so far away, whether or not they ever found Nadia. No, running away wasn’t an option.

  André was the worst of all—she felt his eyes on her each second, perhaps judging her every action. Did he think her unfaithful to his brother’s memory? Or was he trying to silently convince her to tell his family about the baby? Or was he jealous?

  Jealous? Where did that come from? Rebekka studied him from underneath lowered eyelashes, but he was talking to Josette. Had she only imagined his stare? She looked away before he caught her watching him.

  When dinner was over, the children pounced on the
treats, devouring them. Celisse seemed particularly hungry; she sat on Marie-Thérèse’s lap eating anything within reach. Afterward, the older children started to leave the room to play games.

  “Wait, everyone.” Marie-Thérèse stood, still holding Celisse. “I have an announcement to make. That is, Mathieu and I have an announcement.” Mathieu, with Raquel cradled in his arms, came to stand by his wife.

  “Ah, I knew there was a reason for this gathering,” Jean-Marc said, smiling gently at his adopted daughter.

  Celisse buried her head in Marie-Thérèse’s neck at the sudden attention, half of a sweet roll still clutched in her hand.

  “Well, Josette thought we ought to let you know that Mathieu and I have decided to become foster parents for Celisse and Raquel,” Marie-Thérèse said. “And if we are allowed, we are eventually going to try to adopt them.”

  Amid the chorus of cheers, André asked, “Hey, Celisse, what do you think about that?”

  When Celisse didn’t answer, Marie-Thérèse said, “We tried to explain last night, but I don’t know how much she understands. She does seem a little more relaxed.”

  “She sure eats a lot,” said Anton, Josette’s second son. At nine he was the family self-appointed tattle-teller. “I don’t see how she fits it all in.”

  Josette clamped her hand over her son’s mouth. “What’s important is that she will always have enough food now—as much as she wants.” She stared hard at Anton.

  “The medicine the doctor gave her is really working,” said Marie-Thérèse. “We had a rough evening last night as the laxatives began working, but today she’s been perfectly clean.” She tickled Celisse. “Haven’t you, Celisse?”

  To everyone’s surprise, Celisse lifted her head and nodded at Marie-Thérèse. Then she buried her face again. Marie-Thérèse patted her back and gave her a hug.

  “We’re moving,” Larissa said to no one in particular. “And I’m getting my own room—I don’t have to share at all.”

  “No fair. We all have to share,” said Emery, Josette’s oldest boy. “I’m turning fourteen this month and I’m still in with Preston. And Anton and Stephen and David share their room, too.”

  “I’m almost sixteen,” Larissa said loftily. “I need my own space.”

  “Not for four months,” muttered Brandon.

  Larissa ignored him.

  “So you can stay up all night, I bet,” Anton said.

  Six-year-old Stephen pounded on his mom’s arm. “Hey, I want my own room.”

  “No way,” Josette said. “Marie-Thérèse and I shared all our lives and you can too. It’ll make better friends of you . . . I hope.” She sighed. “If only bedtime weren’t so noisy.”

  Everyone laughed except Rebekka. If Marc hadn’t died, she would have laughed right along with everyone as she planned the sleeping arrangements of her unborn children. But there would be no children now, only one child who would never have siblings.

  When we find Nadia maybe we can raise them as . . . But, no, Raoul wouldn’t likely remain single. Rebekka’s eyes drifted toward Valerie and Raoul. It was plain to her that Valerie was in love with Raoul. He obviously cared for her, too, even if he didn’t know it yet. His divorce would soon be final and then Rebekka bet Raoul would move forward.

  Ariana raised her wine glass, full of red punch, and clinked on it with a spoon. “I’d like to say something.” Everyone quieted. “I’m so very happy for you, Marie-Thérèse and Mathieu. It’s been a long time coming, and I know it won’t be easy, but you will do a great job. And I want you to know that I’m here for you to watch these girls at least once a week during the day so that you can get out and do what you need to do.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Marie-Thérèse had tears in her eyes. “But you don’t have to—”

  “Of course I do. Whether or not you succeed in the adoption, they’re my grandchildren while you have them.”

  Jean-Marc stood up and clinked his glass. “What Marie-Thérèse was going to say, honey, was that you don’t have to . . . limit yourself to one day a week to baby-sit.” He grinned at all the laughter, which Rebekka joined in spite of herself.

  Ariana kissed Jean-Marc in front of everyone. Their children made catcalls while the teenagers groaned and shut their eyes. “This is good,” Ariana said softly. “We need more children in this family. More laughter. Especially now.”

  In her mother-in-law’s eyes, Rebekka saw the same longing she felt in her own heart for something of Marc’s to love. She had kept this baby secret for more than two months after Marc’s death—how could she keep his child from them any longer?

  She arose and clinked her own glass in her trembling hand, nearly sloshing the red liquid over the rim. “I—I also want to add my congratulations. And I need . . . well, I need to make an announcement myself. I hope Marie-Thérèse will forgive me for stealing a bit of her show here.”

  The family waited in a sudden anxious silence, their eyes sliding between Samuel and Rebekka, making obvious assumptions. Only Raoul and André, both of whom knew the truth, smiled at her encouragingly. Rebekka’s throat was suddenly dry. From across the table where he sat with Marée on his lap, André had stopped spreading purple onions over his second helping of salad and nodded. His eyes told her that he would speak for her if she wanted, and that offer gave her strength.

  “I hope that you will understand why I haven’t spoken before now,” she continued, setting her cup on the table. “But I—it was something I needed to keep to myself for a while. I’m expecting Marc’s child. I’m more than three months along now—the baby is due the third week in April.”

  The expressions on their faces made Rebekka happy she had made the announcement. Ariana immediately rushed up to her and hugged her tightly, followed by nearly everyone else.

  Marie-Thérèse cried, “I’m so glad, Rebekka. I’m so so glad.”

  Josette was wiping her own tears as she hugged Rebekka. “If you need anything, you tell me, okay? Have you been sick? What did the doctor say?”

  Rebekka answered the questions as best she could, but as she caught sight of Samuel watching her, she grew self-conscious. She shouldn’t have invited him here after all. He would likely be feeling awkward with her now. Why hadn’t she waited until she was alone with Marc’s family? Of course, he should know about the baby, and this was better than telling him alone. Or did it concern him at all?

  At least it was easier than I thought it was going to be, she thought. No one had berated her for not telling them sooner, but instead had lifted their voices in celebration. Ariana especially looked happy, and Rebekka was fiercely glad. Over her lifetime, her mother-in-law had lost her brother and three children, and she deserved to feel joy. Rebekka wondered how Ariana had dealt with the loss of her children. If something happened to this life inside her . . . Rebekka shivered and vowed not to think about it.

  Soon the congratulations and questions died down. The children slipped away to play their games and the adults settled down for a talk. Rebekka pushed back her chair and stood. “I’d better get going. I . . . Samuel has just come in from the states, and he’s got to be pretty tired.”

  Josette grinned. “I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.” There was a note in her voice that Rebekka couldn’t place, almost . . . teasing? Rebekka brushed the idea aside.

  “Actually, we do,” she said edging her way toward the door. She was relieved when Samuel understood and followed her.

  “Goodbye, Samuel,” Zack said in English. “It was good talking with you.”

  “Look me up if you’re ever in Cincinnati,” Samuel replied. “I’ll make you the best five-way chili you’ve ever had.”

  Rebekka made a face. “That wouldn’t be hard since I doubt he’s ever had the dubious privilege of eating such . . . such . . .” Words failed her.

  “Slop?” supplied Samuel with a wicked grin.

  She shrugged. “Your words, not mine.” They all laughed—at least those who understood English.

&nb
sp; “Uh, Rebekka.” André appeared at her side. “Can I talk with you a minute?”

  “Sure.” She followed him into the entryway.

  “You did the right thing telling Mom and Dad and the others. You made them happy.”

  “I hope Marie-Thérèse is okay with me announcing it tonight.”

  “She’s fine. You just added to the excitement. This is a night we’ll remember for a long time.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks for saying so.” Assuming their conversation was over, she started around him to tell Samuel she was ready.

  “Wait,” his hand fell on her arm with a gentle but electrifying pressure. “I need to talk to you . . . alone.”

  Her heart started pounding furiously in her chest. Why? What could he possibly say that would make her nervous? After that crazy marriage proposal, what could be worse? “I’ve got to get back to Samuel,” she protested. “I shouldn’t leave him alone. He doesn’t know anyone here.”

  “Later then?” He was so close to her that she could smell the aftershave on his face—a face she noticed was smooth with recent shaving.

  “Okay . . . whenever.” She forced her reply to sound offhand, and willed the pounding in her chest to stop. “But no preaching, huh? I’m not running away with Samuel. We’re just friends.”

  The muscles in his jaw clenched. “Are you sure? I don’t know many people who would travel overseas to comfort a friend.”

  “You’d come.” Rebekka didn’t know what made her say the words.

  He nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

  “Because of Marc.” Everything always boiled down to André’s promise.

  His hand on her arm tightened. “That’s where you are wrong. I wouldn’t come because of Marc. I would come because of you.”

  His face came closer to hers and she found it difficult to breathe. “Samuel’s here on business,” she managed. “That’s all.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  They were silent a moment, standing so close that Rebekka had the sudden urge to feel his arms around her.