She was staring in the direction of her piano, but she turned as they entered. “Sorry, I was feeling too tired to get up again to answer the door. Thought you could find your own way in.”
“We brought you something, Aunt Rebekka!” Ana exclaimed. The girls presented the basket and André placed the sunflowers on the coffee table.
Rebekka accept the girls’ offering. “How lovely. Did you girls pick this out? You didn’t have to bring me a present.”
“I picked it out for the baby,” Marée said, her turquoise eyes serious. She patted Rebekka’s stomach. “Do you think he’ll like them?”
“I picked out the sunflowers,” Ana put in. “They’re for you. But they were Daddy’s idea. He wanted to buy flowers for you.”
“I love them both. Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
André was staring at Marée’s hand, still patting Rebekka’s stomach, which was larger than he remembered from three days ago. He felt a loss, thinking of how he’d talked to his daughters while they were in the womb, of how he and Claire had lain awake nights planning the coming births and discussing their hopes for each baby.
Rebekka swung her legs down from the coffee table and leaned over to finger a sunflower. “These look bright and happy, just perfect after the day I’ve been through.”
“What happened?” Without waiting for an invitation, he sat beside her. Marée climbed on his lap, while Ana began exploring the room.
“Desirée came over this morning, and we went shopping for some presentable clothing for a court date she has pending about her driving tickets. She looks great cleaned up. I think she’s serious about changing.”
“We’ve thought that before.”
Rebekka sighed, and he noticed how tired she looked. “I know,” she said. “But the point is moot anyway. She signed the divorce papers, and now all that’s left is for the judge to grant the divorce. It’s as good as done. I’m glad for him, but I feel sorry for her. She has such a long way to go.” She leaned back against the sofa and tried to raise her feet again to the coffee table, wincing with pain at the attempt.
André quickly scooped up her feet and set them on the table.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Your ankles are swollen.”
“I did too much walking today, and I’m retaining water like crazy. But the worse thing is the pain in my side.”
André didn’t like the sound of that. “Pain in your side? Retaining water? Could be serious, either problem.”
“I’m going to ask the doctor about it next week. The appointment really should have been for this week, but I have a deadline I want to make. Besides, I’ve been feeling well.”
André didn’t tell her he planned to be at the appointment. No use in giving her a chance to say no.
“You sure do have a lot of flowers,” Ana commented. “And plants.” Marée jumped off André’s lap to follow her sister around the room, counting the containers.
Rebekka smiled mischievously. “Someone’s been sending a lot of them lately. Must think I’m sick or something.”
“There are a lot of different illnesses.” André leaned forward and massaged one of her ankles gently with the tips of his fingers. “I could rub them for you like this.” Claire had asked him to do that when she was expecting.
“Oh, you don’t have to do—oooo.” She leaned her head back and shut her eyes. “That does feel good.”
André pulled her feet onto the sofa and began to massage her ankles. Marée appeared at his side and began rubbing the other foot. “Aunt Rebekka’s going to sleep,” she said with a laugh.
“Mmmm,” was Rebekka’s only reply. Her dark auburn hair splayed out over the sofa cushion, making her seem pale and fragile and small—except for the roundness of her belly. André worked his way up to her calves and down again, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. Marée soon returned to counting flowers and plants in the sitting room and eventually followed her sister from the room to search for more. André passed to Rebekka’s other leg, stopping only when he felt her completely relax.
“Thanks,” Rebekka murmured, opening her eyes. “I guess I needed that.”
“You probably shouldn’t wear high heels right now.”
“I didn’t actually.” She grimaced, and her hand went to her side. “Oh, this pain—what could it be?”
André shrugged, wishing he could help. He couldn’t very well offer to massage her side. If they were married, of course, it would be a completely different situation.
Her next abrupt question drove all other thoughts from his mind. “Do you think Marc knew he was going to die?” Her gray eyes were serious, holding his.
“I think he had a premonition, yes. But I don’t think he knew exactly.”
“I mean before he came to earth.”
He thought about it for a moment. “I guess he probably did.”
“Then I would have agreed as well.” Her teeth bit the soft flesh of her inner bottom lip, bringing to mind her softness on the day he had kissed her.
“Possibly. What do you believe?”
She frowned, rubbing half-consciously again at her side. “I think I was much braver in heaven than I am here.” There were tears in her eyes, threatening to fall.
“Nonsense. You’ve been nothing but brave.”
“I miss him so much. And yet I’m mad at him too, and I keep wishing—”
A loud splintering crash came from the kitchen, and they both jumped at the sound. “Uh-oh. They’ve broken something,” he said, helping Rebekka stand.
They hurried into the kitchen and found the girls staring at the shards of a green ceramic pot lying on the floor mixed with a pile of potting soil. A scraggly, almost dead plant topped the messy heap.
“I didn’t mean to!” Marée launched herself into his arms. “I was just going to water it and it slipped.”
“You shouldn’t have been trying to carry it,” Ana told her. “I told her to use a cup.”
“I’m big enough. It just slipped.”
“Girls, stop fighting,” André scolded. “And how many times do I have to tell you not to take chances with other people’s belongings? You need to ask permission first.”
Marée began to cry harder. “But Daddy, I was helping. I didn’t mean to.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Rebekka said, putting an arm around Marée. “No use in crying over a dead plant. I should have thrown it out already. Besides, you are much more important to me than any plant—even if your daddy gave it to me.” She looked at André pointedly before walking toward the closet where she kept the broom.
André studied the plant. He didn’t recognize it, but then he hadn’t always picked out his offerings himself. Several times he’d purchased over the phone and once he’d asked Valerie to order. In fact, the ceramic pot, obviously a beautiful piece, looked more like Valerie’s style.
“Rebekka’s right,” he said. “What’s important is that you’re not hurt. Just be more careful in the future.”
Rebekka returned with the broom and the trash bucket. André took them from her and began cleaning up the mess. “I remember once as a child I went through a phase where I was dropping a lot of things,” Rebekka said. “My father—you remember how he was back then, André—well, he always was angry and yelling at me. I felt like I couldn’t do anything right around him. With my mom it was always my safety that came first. I knew she loved some of the things I broke, but not one of them was more important than I was to her. With my dad, I was never sure.”
André remembered only too well the anger always burning inside Rebekka’s father. It hadn’t seemed possible, but he’d changed when he’d accepted the gospel. Still, he didn’t miss the point of Rebekka’s story. He set down the broom and hugged Marée. “I love you, honey,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Marée’s arms went around his neck. “I love you, too, Daddy. I can buy her another one.”
“No need, really,” Rebekka insisted. “Your da
d has given me enough already.”
“That’s because he likes you,” Ana said. Marée giggled.
André lifted one shoulder in a shrug and went back to cleaning. “I was worried the pot might have broken one of your floor tiles, but it doesn’t look like it did. There, all finished.”
“Thank you.” Rebekka accepted the broom from him and smiled awkwardly.
“So would you like to eat dinner with us later?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual. “I could go home help the girls get their homework done and then we could swing by and get you on our way out.”
“Yay! Please come, Aunt Rebekka!” shouted Ana and Marée. When she didn’t immediately respond, they put their hands together in a beseeching gesture and batted their eyelids.
Rebekka laughed, the color returning to her cheeks. “You girls are so funny—dinner’s hours away yet. The thing is, I already ate out today at lunch, and I don’t think I can face it again. My side hurts every time I move.”
“Ohhh!” the girls chorused their dismay.
“Then can we stay and play at least?” asked Marée. “You can paint our nails like last time and then we can do our hair.”
“Well,” Rebekka vacillated.
André could tell she really didn’t feel up to having the girls stay but didn’t want to disappoint them. “How about tomorrow?” he asked. “They could come after school.”
The girls usually went to daycare for a few hours until he was off work, or occasionally his parents watched them. Before Marc’s death they had also come to Rebekka’s at least once a week. He knew they missed those visits more than he would ever admit to Rebekka. Since she didn’t have children of her own, and they didn’t have a mother, the girls had considered Rebekka all theirs.
“That would be good,” she said. “I should be feeling better. I’ll even come and get you. Deal?”
“Well . . . okay,” Ana agreed.
“That way we can bring our new polish,” Marée added, her face brightening. “Great-grandma bought us it for our birthdays.”
“I remember.” The color had again faded from Rebekka’s face. “You know what? I’m glad you came over, but I think I’d better lie down.”
André took a step toward her. “Do you think you should be alone?”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” She laughed. “It was all that exercise today. I’m getting old and fat, I guess.”
“You are not,” said Marée.
Ana nodded solemnly. “You are the prettiest person we know.”
Rebekka placed a hand on their shoulders. “You know, I’ve really missed our days together. You’ll have to start coming over again.”
“Yay!”
André met Rebekka’s eyes over the heads of his enthusiastic daughters. “That would be nice.” It was also one more day he’d have to work on her.
As if reading his mind, she shook her head. For a long moment they stood locked together, as though neither could look away.
At last, André roused himself. “Come on, girls. Let’s go home.”
“Can we still go out to eat after homework?” Ana asked.
“If you beat me to the door.” They were gone in a flash.
André followed more sedately with Rebekka. He could tell she was still hurting and matched his pace with hers. All at once, she clutched at her side and leaned against the wall. She slowly sank to the floor.
André knelt on the floor beside her, gathering her into his arms. “Are you okay? Rebekka?”
There was no answer.
* * *
Dr. Samain’s round face was expressionless as he listened to the baby’s heartbeat. Rebekka clung to André’s hand, fearing the worst. His face was drawn and anxious. Standing beside him, his mother Ariana waited, her face calm. She has already been through so many trials, Rebekka thought. But I’m not like her. I can’t bear to lose my baby. Not after losing Marc. Please, Father!
The doctor cleared his throat. “The baby’s heartbeat is very strong, and everything seems fine. But right here,” he kneaded Rebekka’s left side, “is your intestine, and I believe that’s what’s giving you the sharp pains. Constipation is common in pregnant women. As for passing out, I think you simply overreached your energy level. You need to get more rest.”
“Then there’s nothing wrong with me?” Rebekka asked. Except for the constipation, of course, which was embarrassing to have the doctor talk about with André and Ariana in the room.
“I don’t believe so.” But Dr. Samain’s hesitancy rekindled Rebekka’s fear.
“What else is wrong?” Ariana met the doctor’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling us?” Rebekka was glad her mother-in-law was there to ask the question because she felt too close to tears to say anymore.
Dr. Samain shifted under the fluorescent light. A small smile played on his lips briefly, making his hanging jowls more prominent. “Rebekka’s only a week over four months along, and I’m sure she told you that at her last appointment, I was very worried about her weight loss. But now, though she hasn’t gained a lot, she’s measuring larger than she should at this point. That could be from a number of different factors, some threatening, some not. For instance, a non-threatening example might be that she is be farther along than she calculated, or that perhaps there’s more than one baby.”
André’s eyes opened wide. “You think she’s having twins? They do run in our family, you know.”
“Fraternal twins run in the family,” Ariana corrected.
“That’s right,” Dr. Samain said, “and fraternal twins run in the female line because it happens when a woman releases more than one egg at a time, usually two, and they both become fertilized, producing two babies. If Rebekka were a Perrault by birth—or rather a Merson since twins comes through your line, Madame Perrault—I wouldn’t be concerned at all until we’ve done more tests. There’s also the fact that I can’t find two distinct heartbeats, though that certainly doesn’t rule out twins. With an ultrasound, I can see what’s going on for sure. At this point, we only know that Rebekka is measuring larger than most women at four months.”
Rebekka had never considered having twins, but she was suddenly excited. She turned to André. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
He smiled warmly and pressed her hand. “When can we find out?”
“Well, we have that appointment next week, and since the baby’s heartbeat is strong and there are no signs of fetal stress, we could do the ultrasound then as planned,” Dr. Samain said. “We’re closing in an hour and we have a heavy appointment load already, or I’d try to get you in now. Anyway, I’m sure the pain you’ve had is unrelated and will go away after taking the medication I’m going to give you.”
Rebekka nodded. “Thank you. And I really appreciate you seeing me so quickly like this today.” To her relief, her words sounded calm. She wasn’t about to admit that she would give almost anything to know right then what was going on inside her stomach.
The doctor chuckled, showing deep laugh lines in his sagging cheeks. “I’m always here if you need me.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Rebekka smiled as she accepted his help to slide off the examining table.
Dr. Samain looked at André. “Take good care of your wife, hear? No more long shopping expeditions.”
Rebekka blinked in surprise, having forgotten she’d let the doctor believe André was her husband at the last visit. She opened her mouth to speak, when André beat her to it. “I will. You can be sure of that. Thank you, doctor.”
Ariana grinned with amusement. “Yes, thank you,” she repeated dryly, looking back and forth between them.
Rebekka knew her face had gone a bright red. Ariana was one of the few people who had known she harbored feelings for André before her marriage to Marc, but what would she say if she knew of her son’s proposal?
André helped Rebekka out to the car, where Ariana hugged Rebekka before getting into her own vehicle. “I’m not even going to ask what that was about,” Ariana said, a
bemused smile on her face. “Keep in touch.”
Rebekka watched Ariana drive away. “We should have told the doctor.”
“Told him what?” André asked maddeningly.
“You know very well what.”
He took his hand from the ignition where he’d been about to start the car. His eyes met hers. “Look, Rebekka. I love you, and I want to marry you. Any time I can pretend to be your husband, I’m going to do it. Unless”—his brown eyes glinted—“you want me to call up Samuel to play the part.”
Rebekka looked away, afraid he would read the lie in her eyes. “I’ll call him myself.”
“Good.” His reply was terse, and Rebekka regretted starting the discussion at all.
They drove home in tense silence, stopping only to pick up the prescription the doctor had given her. When they drove up at Rebekka’s apartment, she hopped out quickly before he could come around. “Don’t bother coming up. I’ll be okay. Thanks.”
“Ah, I left the girls with your neighbor when you passed out. I have to get them.”
“Oh.”
They went together to collect the girls, thanking the neighbor profusely. Then André insisted upon returning to Rebekka’s apartment to make sure she was all right. There, he explained the situation to the girls.
“You might be having twins?” Ana said with a little squeal. “I’ve always wanted to have twins. Grandma says I might. That practically all the women in her family do. Wow, I can’t believe it. You’re so lucky.”
Marée and André seemed equally excited, but Rebekka couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had come over her since entering the apartment. Something whispering that all was not right with her baby.
“It’s going to be okay,” André said to her in a quiet undertone.
Already the sharp pains seemed to be easing because of the doctor’s medication. Things were okay—or seemed to be. Rebekka squeezed André’s hand. He always seemed to know exactly what to say when she really needed him.
She didn’t even mind that he made excuses to stay until Raoul finally came home from work.
* * *
Raoul came home altogether too soon for André’s peace of mind. He wanted to have an excuse to stay with Rebekka. Since they’d returned to her apartment, she’d acted restless and uncertain. He himself was still recovering from the shock of seeing her collapse. It had been like reliving a nightmare—the one where he’d come home to find Claire deathly ill. The emotions were the same—guilt, fear, love, need, and anger. Only it was worse than the first time because he knew intimately the agony of loss that lurked just around the corner.
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