Ties That Bind

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Logically, he knew he was vulnerable because of Claire’s recent death, and the same logic dictated that he shouldn’t even think of Rebekka in this way. But how could he tell these things to his heart? These past few hours of hope contrasted so completely with the devastation of losing Claire. He needed Rebekka, and so did his girls.

  So did Marc.

  Why hadn’t Rebekka opened the door? Possible answers swarmed in his mind until he thought he would go insane.

  He drove aimlessly about Paris, knowing that he was no good for work. Things would run smoothly enough with Raoul at the helm. If not, his secretary would call or page him on his cell phone.

  Marc would have a key, he thought. Maybe he should force Rebekka to talk to him. He wouldn’t try to persuade her or make any foolish declarations, as Ariana had warned him. All he wanted to do was clear up the confusion of feelings. He had no intention of betraying his brother.

  Aren’t you betraying him even now?

  The pain inside his heart was almost unbearable. Dear God, he prayed. Please help me know what to do. I love my brother so much, but I am so lonely.

  Without realizing it he had arrived at the transplant hospital, presumably to get a key from Marc. Why did my mother want me to see Marc before Rebekka? The thought was unexpected but not really surprising. He certainly couldn’t tell Marc how he was feeling—he would never do that. If anything was done, it would be up to Rebekka.

  He walked in the door, rode up the elevator and was outside his brother’s door before another traitorous thought entered his heart. If Marc died, Rebekka would be free. Immediately, he felt repulsed. What kind of a man was he to wish for the death of his own brother?

  I don’t want him to die. I don’t! I love him.

  He needed all his strength to open Marc’s door. Inside, his brother lay on the bed as though he were waiting for something, looking more fragile and unprotected than André had ever seen him. André faltered, the words he had formulated in his mind dying on his lips.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked instead.

  Marc gave a low chuckle that held a refreshing mirth. “I’m going to live, André.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “You were right that I’d given up. I was sure I was going to die and leave Rebekka. I know you’re not going to believe this, but you’re the only reason I fought. Your faith. Well, that and Rebekka’s love.”

  “I’m glad.” André’s throat had gone so dry he could barely utter the words. “I knew it was up to you.”

  “I have the two best brothers a man could ask for,” Marc continued, “and soon I will marry the only woman I will ever love.”

  André couldn’t reply, and was thankful Marc didn’t seem to notice his silence.

  “Since I’ll be out of here in a week or so,” Marc’s said with determination, “I was wondering if you would have my office at home fixed up for me. You know, files I need to look at and such. The doc won’t let me go back to work for at least four weeks after the surgery, but he did say that I could peruse a few files at home. No on-site stuff, and I have to promise not to work longer than an hour the first week out, two the next, and so on.” He smiled and fished in the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, straining with the effort. “Here’s a key.” He tossed it to Marc. “Rebekka has one, of course, but she might not be there.”

  André stared at the key. If he only knew what he has just given me. With deliberation, he put it in his pocket. He felt like a thief.

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make too big a deal about it to Rebekka or Mom. You know how they are.”

  Numbly, André nodded. Why did you ask me to take care of her? He wanted to ask. Don’t you know what you started?

  After a few more words of detached encouragement, he left Marc and turned back the way he had come, tears burning under his eyelids.

  He reflected on everything that had transpired in the past months, and on Rebekka and Marc, the two people on earth that he loved more than any others save his small daughters. Why had he been trapped in such a position when he was so in need of comfort?

  One thing was sure: he needed guidance. Not the earthly kind, but the kind he could receive only from his Heavenly Father. A little perspective wouldn’t hurt either. He knew he should go home and kneel to ask properly. He also knew he should forget he had the key altogether. Maybe toss it out onto the street where some little child could find it and keep it for his collection of odd and ends. But throwing this opportunity away seemed like discarding all chances with Rebekka, and he couldn’t do that. Never.

  Never?

  Still, he prayed as he drove, and when he arrived at Marc’s apartment, he bowed his head and prayed harder. I just want to look into her eyes, he promised the Lord. That’s all. I have to know how she feels about me.

  * * *

  Rebekka heard the bell again as she was combing her hair in preparation to visit Marc. Her body jerked when she heard someone enter the apartment. Pulse thumping with fear, she crept from the bathroom to the hall and down to the entryway, wielding her brush as a weapon.

  “André!” she exclaimed, the fear changing to something quite different, something to which she was reluctant to give voice. “You scared me!”

  “Sorry.” He smiled, but it was a tense smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He stared at the key in his hand for a long moment before pocketing it. Without looking behind him, he gently kicked the apartment door shut.

  He nodded toward the kitchen, indicating for her to follow. “We need to talk.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was unsteady and he glanced at her quickly. He sat at the small table and indicated the seat across from him.

  Rebekka took the chair, relieved at the physical distance.

  “You were here when I came earlier, weren’t you?” His voice held a rough edge she had never heard before.

  She traced a pattern in the marble tabletop, not looking at him. “Yes,” she admitted softly.

  “Why didn’t you let me in?”

  She was silent a long time and then, “Because I was afraid.”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  Rebekka ignored the slightly wounded tone. “I wasn’t afraid of you.”

  “Then who?”

  Still she didn’t look at him. She could feel his gaze—hurt and inquisitive—and struggled to gather her thoughts.

  “Tell me . . . please.”

  I was afraid that you would take me in your arms and ask me to leave Marc, she thought. Aloud, she said, “It was nothing.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

  André glanced at the ring on her left hand. “You were right to not open the door, Rebekka,” he said quietly, firmly. “I hadn’t thought things out before I came to see you. Or prayed. I’ve done both now.”

  The tears continued to gather in her eyes, as did the confusion in her heart.

  André proceeded in a low voice. “Rebekka, I know you love Marc. I love him too. And I don’t know what’s going to come of all this. All I know is that I’m confused, I’m lonely, and I miss Claire so much. I don’t want to hurt you or Marc—ever.”

  His sincerity made her want to weep. “I know.”

  “I may be a little presumptuous in thinking that if things had worked out differently in the past, then maybe you and I . . .” He stopped, as though he had stepped too close to an invisible line.

  “You are not presumptuous,” she answered in a small voice. The pool in her eyes spilled over.

  He made a sound in his throat. “I wish I could take away your tears. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry.” He stood abruptly. “Go see Marc, Rebekka. I’ll be around.”

  She followed him to the door, trembling inside. His message was clear. He would not do anything to come between her and Marc. Any decision was up to her. Once her path had been so clear, but now she couldn’t help wondering what might happen if she didn’t marry Marc, if several months down the road she began to date
André. Could they be happy together?

  But what about Marc? She loved him—how could she even consider not marrying him after all the years of waiting?

  I can’t marry him if I’m not sure, she thought. I can’t do that to him, either.

  She had her doubts about André as well. He was an honest man, but what if he was only trying to find Claire again, or the family life he had shared with her? It was too soon after Claire’s death to know if anything he felt now was real. Or was it? One thing she was sure of: a relationship with André would mean more waiting. And there was always Marc.

  Only after opening the apartment door did André turn to look at her. “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.” He leaned over without warning and gave her a brief, affectionate hug that reminded her of simpler times. Rebekka blinked to see through her tears.

  André turned away. He didn’t wait for the elevator, but took the stairs two at a time. She watched after him until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she went back inside and shut the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Larissa lounged against a wall at the far end of the main school hall, watching her best friend Jolie flirt with Neven and Serge, two boys from their grade. Since their location was partially hidden by the stairs leading to the second floor, it was a good place to ditch math class. Jolie leaned back so that her belly-button ring was in full view. The boys laughed and tugged at their own earrings, clearly visible with their ultrashort hair, bleached to a white-blond.

  “You got one?” Neven asked Larissa. Of the two he was the most talkative and the most handsome.

  “Just in my ears.” Larissa wanted to tell them that she thought making holes in belly buttons was stupid, but how could she when Jolie was so proud of hers? And she certainly couldn’t admit that if she came home with a belly ring her parents would flip. She wrinkled her nose in thought. Jolie’s green hair was another matter. Maybe her parents would allow something like that. Only she would prefer blue for herself.

  “Larissa’s family is religious,” said Jolie, her brown eyes glinting in the weak sunlight coming from the large window opposite them. “They don’t do things like that.”

  “Really?” asked Neven, raising an eyebrow. His dark eyes and olive skin contrasted sharply with his white hair.

  Way cute, thought Larissa. Even though I’m taller than he is.

  “Don’t worry. She’s not weird or anything,” Jolie assured them. She pushed off the wall and slung an arm around Larissa. “She’s not really one of them. She’s cool.”

  The boys laughed, and so did Larissa, though she didn’t think it was very funny. Jolie was her best friend, but she could say some hurtful things.

  Why do I care? thought Larissa. She’s only telling the truth. I don’t belong. Not in my family or anywhere.

  The bell rang and Jolie let her arm drop from Larissa’s shoulder. “Finally the lunch bell. I’m starved.”

  “Hey, Larissa!”

  She looked up the stairs to see who was calling her name. “Oh, it’s my little brother,” she grumbled, stressing the little. “He’s a pest, but I’d better talk to him. Wait a minute, would you?”

  “Sure.” Jolie leaned back again, bracing one foot against the wall

  Larissa met Brandon as he reached the foot of the stairs. “Did you ditch math?” he asked. “You’re not usually out before me.”

  “Shush.” She pulled him across the hall by the windows, wishing he was back at the grade school. But no, he had skipped an entire year and now seemed to have nothing in the world to do but check up on her. “You’d better not tell.”

  “They’ll find out anyway,” he said, his light brown eyes serious. “I don’t know why you bother ditching. I thought you were good at math, like Mom.”

  “I’m not like Mom,” she snapped, “and I don’t like math.”

  “So you’re like them?” He glanced at Jolie and the boys, now separated from them by a thick stream of students coming down the stairs from their classes.

  “Why not? They’re my friends.”

  “Friends?” he snorted. “They’re brainless is what. Brainless clones. All dressed up with earrings and funny hair. You can’t tell one from another. Look at them.”

  In spite of herself, Larissa glanced over and sure enough, the two boys were almost indistinguishable at this distance. Even Jolie, chatting in the hallway with several other girls who had gathered, could have been almost any member of their crowd.

  “So? What’s wrong with that? They’re nice to me and I like them. You’re just like Mom and Dad. You act like they’re not good enough for you. Is that what they teach us in church? Funny, I must have missed that lesson. I thought the Savior told us to love everyone.”

  Brandon’s eyes grew troubled. “That’s not what I meant. Honestly. It’s not just that you’re friends with them, it’s that they’re your only friends. You don’t hang out with anyone else, anyone who knows what’s right anyway. That’s what makes our parents crazy.”

  She didn’t want to listen. “Look, pest, my friends accept me for who I am. Got it? No one else does. Not at church or anywhere.”

  “I think you’re being stupid about this.”

  “So? I think you’re stupid all the time.”

  He looked hurt. Staring at the ground and biting his lip, he muttered, “I just wanted to help. Excuse me for caring.”

  Larissa knew he would tell her parents about her skipping math class because he believed it was the right thing to do, and she knew she would get in trouble. She would be reprimanded, and snotty little Brandon would be praised. The pressure inside her built until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Go ahead and tell. I don’t care,” she said in a vicious whisper. “They don’t care, either. Not about me or about you.”

  He looked at her with wide eyes that said, “What are you talking about?”

  “They didn’t want you, you know.” The words tumbled out of her mouth without her bidding. “When Mom found out she was pregnant with you, she cried. You think you’re so special, but they didn’t even want you. And now the only reason they’re nice to you is because they feel guilty.”

  “It’s not true!” He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “Mom and Dad love us both. But you, you don’t love anyone. Why do you have to be so mean?” With that he lurched away into the crowd. Larissa stared after him, feeling suddenly lost. How could she be so mad at him one moment and then sad for him the next?

  Jolie and the others came to where she stood, sweeping her along with them as they walked. “Hey, is it true your parents have a lot of kids?” asked Neven. “I heard religious people always have a dozen or so, especially Catholics and Mormons.”

  “There’s just my brother and me in my family.”

  Jolie nudged her. “For now anyway. You poor thing.”

  Larissa was relieved when the others didn’t respond. Talking about the impending adoption was not something she could bear today. She let herself be carried by the crowd toward the lunchroom.

  “Hey, isn’t that your name, Larissa?” asked Neven. “I think they’re calling you over the intercom.” Larissa listened hard, barely catching the request to go to the office.

  She stopped walking, trying not to show her trepidation. Surely her parents couldn’t have found out about her missing class so soon. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she called. Jolie waved and turned the corner to the lunchroom.

  As Larissa walked into the school office, Aunt Josette rose from a chair and came to meet her. “Oh good. You heard the page. I was afraid you wouldn’t over the noise. I meant to come earlier, but I was late dropping Stephen off at Grandma’s.”

  Larissa looked at her blankly. “Why are you here? I mean, it’s good to see you and all, but I was just on my way to lunch.” Seeing her aunt reminded her of what she’d said to Brandon. If her parents found out, she’d likely be grounded until she was married—if she could find someone to marry while she was grounded.


  Josette smoothed the material of her dark blue suit over her large stomach. Larissa noticed how beautiful her aunt looked, despite the mound she carried around her middle. Her hair was long and thick and shiny, and her facial features perfectly formed and unblemished. Larissa wished she could look like that, but compared to her poised, beautiful aunt she was a thin, gangly nothing.

  “Actually, I’ve come to take you to lunch,” Aunt Josette said. “I’ve been meaning to for a while. Things have been pretty crazy around here lately, and I’ve missed talking with you. But now that Marc’s feeling better—he should be out of the hospital in a few days—I thought I’d come in and surprise you. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Larissa shook her head, but she wondered if her aunt had been sent by her mother, and a resentment began smoldering in her heart. Whatever they had planned wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t be happy about a new baby, and she wouldn’t stop seeing Jolie. That was that.

  She followed her aunt as they left the office. Before going to the car, they stopped at Larissa’s locker for her coat. She felt a little self-conscious walking through the halls with a pregnant lady, but no one seemed to give them more than a passing glance. Aunt Josette smiled and nodded to the students, acting as though she knew them personally. Larissa wished she could feel so relaxed among her classmates.

  Instead of a regular restaurant, Aunt Josette drove to a pastry shop. Larissa grinned. “Yeah!” she exclaimed.

  Aunt Josette laughed. “I know. I’m terrible. I would never come here for lunch if I had my kids with me. I’d have to be responsible. But you are my niece and I can spoil you as much as I like. So order anything you want.”

  They giggled together and Larissa felt the past months peel away. She was like a small child again—one who had worshiped her aunt and had lived for the time they spent alone.