Bridge to Forever

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  He’d asked his children only this morning if they would support his decision to ask Mickelle to marry him. They had both been more than supportive. Tanner liked Mickelle, and Damon knew he envied his friends who had mothers. And Belle—well, she’d never been close to Charlotte. By the time she could understand who her mother was, Charlotte was bedridden and too sick to mother a baby. Charlotte had died when Belle was three. In Mickelle, Damon knew Belle had found the mother she needed, and he thought Mickelle needed Belle every bit as much.

  But not me, he thought bitterly.

  No, she’s just scared. No matter how damaged his ego, he refused to be thwarted or to give in to the petty hurt that filled his heart. He loved Mickelle with his entire being and he would somehow make this relationship work. He would make her happy.

  Even as these thoughts filtered through his mind, he was picking up the phone, dialing his partner’s home phone number. Jesse’s wife, Brionney, had always given Damon good advice; perhaps she could help him now. It didn’t hurt that she was also Mickelle’s sister.

  “Hello?” answered a woman’s cheerful voice.

  “Hi Bri,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry to burden you like this, knowing you have all your kids home, but could you come down to the hospital and talk to Kelle?”

  “The hospital?” Bri’s voice went up an octave.

  “It’s a long story, but somehow I ended up here. They want to keep me for observation overnight. Don’t worry, though, I’m perfectly fine. Although this has put a big kink in my relationship with your sister.”

  “But you two were getting along so well.”

  Damon’s chest tightened. “That’s what I thought. After the accident today . . . well, I proposed and she got all scared on me. Turned me down flat. Now I’m worried about her. Remember those panic attacks she used to have? Well, I think she had one here. I’m afraid for her to drive home alone.” He wanted to say more but felt too stupid to continue. Of all the idiot things to do; how could he have fallen off a diving board? And why did he compound the error by proposing in a hospital?

  “I’ll be right there. I can leave the three oldest with my neighbor, but I’ll have to bring the terror twins. They’re too much for anyone right now, especially Forest. He’s teething again.”

  Damon thought that Forest, barely a year old, was always teething, or at least acted like it, but he thought it best not to voice this thought aloud. “The more, the merrier,” he said instead.

  “Yeah, right,” she replied dryly. “You don’t have to watch them, since you’re in bed. Lucky you. Before I come, you have to tell me what happened. I can’t take the suspense a minute longer!”

  Damon quickly outlined the accident, and Mickelle’s subsequent rescue. “That’s so romantic!” Brionney said with a sigh. “And I gotta see that ring. I bet it’s fabulous. You always did have great taste.”

  “Uh, thanks.” Weariness settled on Damon. He’d offered Mickelle his heart; she had refused. Even though he wouldn’t allow that to be her final answer, not yet, the rejection stung.

  Brionney seemed to sense his thoughts. “Don’t worry, Damon. It’s not over until it’s over. Mickelle’s been through a lot this past year. She deserves a chance to wig out on you a time or two. Her husband’s death was hard on her. You might have to give her time.”

  Damon knew that, but it felt good to have the thought voiced aloud by someone other than himself. Someone who knew and loved Mickelle as much as he did. Or almost as much.

  He hung up the phone, still feeling depressed. One thing was sure: he had almost died by being so careless. No one could blame Mickelle for being disturbed by this event. He was disturbed by it. He’d almost lost her forever through his own clumsiness.

  He closed his eyes and saw her again, the honey-blond hair, stormy blue eyes, the classic features of her fine-boned face—not to mention the slender curves of her shapely body. She was intelligent, witty, and so . . . vulnerable. He thought about her almost constantly, even at work, and sometimes the intensity of his love for her frightened him. What if she could never return these feelings?

  But she had. At least he thought so.

  Until today.

  Damon abruptly swung his feet out of the bed. Dang it all, he was going after her!

  A wave of dizziness caught him off guard as a gray-haired nurse entered the room, followed closely by Tanner and Belle. “Oh, no you don’t,” the nurse said, firmly pushing him back into bed. “You need to stay right here until tomorrow morning. And then in bed for the weekend, if you want to get better.” Her hands were like iron bands from which he couldn’t escape.

  “But I . . .” He held his hand open to reveal the ring.

  “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll give it to her.”

  Before he could protest, Belle snatched the ring and disappeared from the room.

  “You okay, Dad?” Tanner’s worried voice came to him through a blurry haze.

  “Yes. Just a little dizzy.” He wasn’t worried about the ring. It was insured, like everything else he owned—except his heart.

  “That’s because you got up too soon.” The nurse gave him a smile. “Now, what would you like me to bring you for dinner?”

  Damon managed to choose something from the limited menu and watched as she squeaked out the door in her white nurse’s shoes.

  “So did she say yes?” Tanner asked him excitedly. He glowed with anticipation.

  Damon frowned, not wanting to disappoint him. “Not yet,” he said with determination, “but she will.”

  * * *

  Mickelle sat numbly on a stiff chair down the hall from Damon’s room, wondering what she should do. Her pulse had returned to normal, and she could see properly again, but the fear from the panic attack was still with her. Why had the panic returned?

  The trauma, of course, she told herself, but knowing a reason didn’t ease the fear.

  She couldn’t believe she’d just turned down Damon. The hurt in his eyes had been obvious; she’d seen that even with her sight dimmed from the attack.

  I must not love him, she thought.

  Well, it wasn’t that exactly, at least if she could judge by the terrible loss she felt in her heart.

  Then what was it?

  Her troublesome thoughts ceased abruptly as Belle’s rosy-cheeked face appeared in front of her. “Mickelle, you forgot this.” The child shoved something into Mickelle’s hand, kissed her cheek, and went to see what Bryan and Jeremy were looking at in a magazine.

  Mickelle stared at her hand and saw the beautiful diamond ring. She picked it up between her forefinger and thumb, studying the design. Her heart began racing again. Damon was nothing if not romantic. The thick band met the heart-shaped diamond on each side in a dramatic sweep. Three carats, she thought. How could she ever wear something like this? It belonged in a vault, and what fun would it be if you couldn’t wear the symbol of your husband’s undying love?

  Seemingly of its own accord the ring slid on her finger, exactly where she would be wearing it if she hadn’t turned Damon down. Only a few weeks ago she’d finally removed the slim gold band Riley had given her on their wedding day. The simple band had been all they could afford, and she’d cherished it. When she’d finally taken it off, a white circle had marked her finger—still marked her finger.

  Damon’s thick ring completely covered the white, as though it had never existed at all. She marveled at the brilliance of the diamond and the elegance of the setting. She’d never been a person to desire such things, and yet suddenly she wanted that ring more than she’d ever wanted anything.

  Her heartbeat had now built to a pounding crescendo in her ears, and her eyesight blurred. Forgetting the ring, she clasped her hands to her chest and bowed her head, struggling to breathe evenly. She could no longer hear the children talking, only the furious beating of her heart.

  I’m dying! she thought but knew it wasn’t true.

  “Please, Father,” she whispered. She knew she’d spoken the words
aloud but couldn’t hear them. Her panic increased, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. Her limbs felt numb.

  She had no concept of how long she stayed in that position, but at last she felt a hand touch her shoulder, and then a pair of caring arms surrounded her. In that warm embrace, Mickelle felt the panic gradually ebb.

  “It’s all right,” said a familiar voice. “Mickelle, everything is all right. Take some deep breaths. Come on. In and out. You can do it.”

  The words “in and out” made Mickelle remember how she had breathed air into Damon’s lungs.

  He had lived!

  In. Out. Slowly her vision cleared, and she could hear normal hospital sounds again. Her sister, Brionney, sat in the next chair, her arms still wrapped around Mickelle.

  “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Brionney had white-blond hair that went to her chin, and eyes the color of sky of on a clear day. She was shorter than Mickelle and slightly heavier, and her face was pale as though she didn’t get out of the house much. Mickelle had always thought her sister beautiful but never more so than at that moment.

  “I’m okay,” Mickelle managed. “Thank you.”

  Brionney let her hands fall slowly down to her side. “I’m glad I could come.”

  Mickelle glanced across the room to see her boys and Belle staring at her with concern. Forcing a smile, she nodded at them. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She lifted her hands to her face to wipe away tears she didn’t remember shedding.

  Reassured, Jeremy began to play with Brionney’s twins, who’d both recently learned to walk, but Bryan and Belle continued to regard her solemnly.

  “I heard you had a tough day,” Brionney said, clicking her tongue.

  Mickelle turned back to her sister. “You could say that.”

  “Thank heaven you got there in time. The Lord has really blessed us.”

  Mickelle didn’t reply.

  “Guess it was pretty frightening and that’s what brought on your panic attack.” Brionney rubbed Mickelle’s shoulder. “But you did it. I’m so proud of you.”

  Mickelle didn’t feel proud. She swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw him there. If it hadn’t been for Tanner . . .” The thought was too chilling to consider.

  “But Tanner was there—you all were.” Brionney’s blue, blue eyes looked deeply into her own. “And you’re all okay. Now you and Damon will go on with your lives.”

  “You don’t understand!” Mickelle shrugged her sister’s hand from her shoulder but kept her voice low so the children wouldn’t hear. “When I saw Damon in that pool today, I realized I can’t do it again. I can’t love . . . care about someone and have them die like that. I just can’t!”

  “Damon’s not going to die.”

  “He almost did!”

  Brionney chewed on her lip for a moment. “He didn’t, though. The Lord protected him by sending you.”

  “Who will be there the next time?” Mickelle answered in a vehement half-whisper. “And who was with Riley?” She stood, feeling slightly disoriented, as though her balance was off. “Oh, I know the answer to that, I really do. I’m not losing my faith or anything. But it was my husband who died at the bottom of that ravine last May, and you know how I reacted to that—I quit living. I simply can’t go through it again.”

  “You’d rather be alone?” Brionney asked quietly.

  Mickelle clenched her jaw. “Yes.”

  Brionney’s eyes went beyond her to the children, and Mickelle followed her gaze. They were all playing with the babies now and laughing.

  “Besides,” Mickelle said, “I’m not alone, I have the kids.”

  “You have your kids. Damon’s are only on loan.”

  Mickelle’s heart constricted. “He wouldn’t . . .” She hadn’t considered that turning down Damon’s proposal would make her lose Belle and Tanner, too.

  “No, he wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. Not only because you need the money, but because the kids love you. But have you ever asked yourself why they mean so much to you? Could it be because of the feelings you have for their father?”

  Mickelle wanted to tell her she was wrong, at least where Belle was concerned. She and Belle were connected. Mickelle was almost certain she was the girl in the dream she’d experienced the night of Riley’s funeral. I was meant to be a part of her life! After the dream, Mickelle had thought she was expecting a daughter, but now she understood the Lord had been preparing her to love Belle. And she did.

  Telling Brionney all this seemed to work against her at the moment. She looked at Brionney where she still sat on the stiff green chair. “My children need me as an active part of their lives, not hovering under my covers trying to stave off panic attacks brought on by losing another husband.”

  “Is that what this is about? Or is this more of the same thing with that cop? You dated him ’cause he was safe, and you knew you wouldn’t love him. Unlike with Damon.”

  Mickelle thought about that, remembering how the intensity of her reaction to Damon’s first kiss had made her vow not to become further involved. She hadn’t been ready to trust another man, to lose her new sense of self, and she’d never wanted to have to rely on a man again. Yet Damon was dependable. She knew she could trust him. He wasn’t going to belittle her yearning for education, her efforts around the house, or her looks. He’d give her everything, and expect everything in return.

  A fair deal, but not one she could fulfill. Because now she knew that the one thing he couldn’t give her were guarantees—that he would live, that they would be happy together forever. She could marry him if they were only friends, joined together because of the children, but she knew he wouldn’t settle for simple friendship. And she wasn’t willing to risk more.

  She met her sister’s steady gaze. “I would trust Damon with my life, but I can’t trust him, or anyone, with my heart.”

  There was a flash of undefined emotion in Brionney’s eyes. “Damon’s fall was an accident,” she said, accentuating each word. “He’s not like Riley. Riley chose to drive off that cliff.”

  The old pain surged through Mickelle. How had her husband committed suicide when their lives were just getting back on track? She knew the question would never be answered, not in this life. Over the months, she’d thought she’d learned to live with his choice, but maybe she was wrong.

  She turned back to the children. “Come on, guys. Belle, go tell your dad goodbye. You and Tanner can stay over at my house tonight.”

  “Can you drive?” Worry etched lines across Brionney’s brow.

  Mickelle lowered her voice. “You tell Damon I took them, okay? I’ll be fine as long as I don’t have to see him again tonight.”

  “All right. But promise me you’ll stop driving if anything starts to happen—right in the middle of the street if you have to.”

  “I promise.”

  Looking only partially satisfied, Brionney headed down the hall with the children. Only Bryan stayed behind.

  “Don’t you want to see Damon?” Mickelle asked, remembering how pale and silent he had been earlier. She laid an arm over his shoulder.

  Bryan shook his head. “Naw, I don’t want to see him. I mean, I’m glad he’s going to be okay, but I don’t even like the guy.”

  “Bryan!”

  “It’s true!” He shrugged and walked away.

  Mickelle watched him, wondering if he really didn’t like Damon or if he was putting on an act.

  Like you? an inner voice mocked.

  Mickelle didn’t have an answer.

  Chapter Three

  When Mickelle awoke the next morning, her thoughts immediately went to Damon. A quick call to the hospital assured her he was fine. “In fact, he’s being released as soon as the doctor signs him out,” the nurse told her. That her name was on the list of those permitted to receive information about his condition didn’t escape Mickelle.

  Of course, she’d known Damon would be released today, and yet how would he get home? I shoul
d pick him up, she thought, but decided to call her brother-in-law Jesse instead. Since today was Saturday, Brionney could stay with their five children while he escorted Damon home. With any luck, she could have him swing by and collect Tanner and Belle first. That way she wouldn’t have to face Damon until Monday morning when he brought Belle on his way to work.

  She lifted the phone to call her brother-in-law. “Sure, I’ll pick him up,” Jesse agreed immediately. “I’ll just give him a call and see when he’s being released.”

  Mickelle surveyed her small kitchen. The walls were white, with only a few inexpensive crafts adorning them, and the curtains were ones she had made when she’d first married. The bright blue had faded to a gray color and the dust had made permanent stains on the material. The counter was yellow, patterned on white—pale enough to coordinate with almost anything, but utterly lacking in imagination. The square table, atop the beige, vinyl-tiled floor, was small and worn, the bar even smaller, barely long enough to fit three tall stools. The fourth stool, where Riley had sat, had always been positioned on the opposite side of the counter where the drawers were located. Him against us, she couldn’t help thinking, although she knew he’d sat there only to make more space.

  Space for himself. The thought was bitter.

  She’d stored Riley’s stool in the basement because it was in the way, and besides, now they mostly used the table, often bringing the other stools around it to make extra seats for Damon and his children.

  Sighing, Mickelle headed for the basement where only last week Damon had helped her move the television set. Her father and brother-in-law Joe had framed and finished a TV room for her. She didn’t have the money for it, but her father had insisted on providing everything. She was grateful to have the upstairs living room free of the noise and mess a television generated. Of course the carpet in the living room still needed replacing, and the curio cabinet where she kept her collection of roses begged for repair, but those things could wait—would have to wait until she could afford them.