“He won’t,” Philippe said confidently. “He doesn’t want to go to jail. Besides, he never really cared about Thierry. André does.”
Danielle laid her hand on Philippe’s arm. “I’m proud of you for getting them together.”
“Me, too.” Rebekka had noticed a new peace about André, and was glad for it. She hugged her father again.
“Enough already. Your mother has just about smothered me a million times since I told her last night!” But he held onto Rebekka as he spoke.
She laughed. “I can’t wait to tell Marc! He’ll be so excited about your baptism.”
“Stunned, more like,” Philippe quipped.
Rebekka laughed again. Could life get any better?
“Come on,” she urged her parents out of bed. “I can’t miss my appointment at the temple.”
Philippe laughed. “Yeah, like there’s any chance of that happening.”
“I don’t know,” Rebekka said. “Raoul’s not here yet, and I can’t get sealed without him. But I wouldn’t put it past André to arrange another business trip for him at the last moment.”
“Now, Rebekka.” Danielle clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Work has been good for him. You know that.”
Rebekka became serious. “He does seem to be happier. Maybe he’s finally getting over Desirée.”
“I think it might take longer than a week,” Philippe put in with a sigh. “And I’m not too sure we’ve seen the last of her, either. We don’t know all the details of what happened, but we do know Raoul really cares for her. I just hope he’s learned something from their relationship, if only that he needs to be more careful if he decides to take her back.”
Rebekka didn’t know what to make of that statement. Raoul had loved Desirée, and still did. Perhaps only time would tell if there could be any future between Raoul and Desirée. She hoped not but couldn’t discount the principle of repentance—or her brother’s feelings.
Her parents were dressing when Raoul finally arrived, directly from the airport. “Thank heaven,” Rebekka said. “I was beginning to worry.”
He hugged her. “I wouldn’t let you down. Wow, you look amazing. And I thought redheads shouldn’t wear red.”
“I’m more brown than red. Besides, Marc likes me in red. Oh, Raoul, this is the best day of my life. Just wait until I tell you about Dad.”
“No fair,” Philippe said, coming from the bathroom. “It’s my news.”
Danielle didn’t smile or join in the laughter. She walked up to her son and put a hand on either side of his face and stared into his eyes. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Mother,” he answered, though his face was lined with stress. “I’ve learned a lot—especially about how blind I was not to see where Desirée and I were headed. There were signs even before we were married, but I chose to ignore them.”
“I’m sorry.” Danielle hugged him and Rebekka saw her mother blink tears from her eyes.
“I’ll be okay,” Raoul said. “I’m finished beating myself up about it. I’m looking toward the future now, and keeping busy. Oh, that reminds me, I’m going on another business trip. I’ll be flying out after the ceremony.”
“That explains your stuffed suitcase,” Rebekka said, stifling a protest. “You look like you brought as much as I did, and Marc and I will be gone two weeks.”
Raoul drew away from Danielle, a genuine smile breaking through his grave expression as he hugged his sister. “I can’t believe you two are finally getting married.”
All at once Rebekka’s entire being felt alive with light. “I know. Neither can I.”
* * *
Later in the afternoon, Rebekka and those she loved gathered in the sealing room of the Swiss Temple. Her eyes wandered over the beloved faces of family and friends who had come to share this special day. Here they had gathered as one, despite the separate and shared trials endured these past months.
Her gaze stopped on Mathieu and Marie-Thérèse, who sat holding hands, a new serenity on their faces. Marie-Thérèse had asked the entire extended family for help and advice on dealing with Larissa, and Rebekka had to admit that in the past few weeks Larissa’s attitude had shifted drastically for the better. Everyone hoped it was a permanent change.
Rebekka’s eyes wandered past Josette and Zack, who seemed to be carrying on a private conversation with their unborn baby. The scene was so touching that Rebekka could hardly wait until she was expecting her own baby. Marc’s baby.
Her mother was there, of course, as were Marc’s parents and grandparents. Even Marc’s Aunt Lu-Lu and her husband Jourdain had come from Marseille to see them sealed. Next to Jourdain sat Louis-Géralde, scheduled soon to return to the mission field in Ukraine.
Then there was André.
He smiled encouragingly as he saw her gaze, though the expression in his eyes was partially hooded. She knew he’d found contentment in the relationship with his girls and his newly found nephew, and she thanked the Lord for it. There would always be a special place in her heart for André.
As she surveyed the rest of the guests, she also imagined unseen family members on the other side of the veil. Surely they were here and rejoicing with her and Marc.
At last Marc took her hand and led her to the altar. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
She returned his tremulous grin. “I love you, too.”
* * *
After the simple yet profound temple ceremony, Rebekka and Marc headed to the airport in a taxi. The flight was uneventful, except for the teasing garnered when the other passengers discovered their newlywed status. Even the taxi driver who picked them up at the airport had something to say. Almost immediately he launched into a series of disastrous honeymoon stories, seeming particularly fond of one where a groom had been so badly sunburned on his first day at the beach that he had to spend the rest of his honeymoon at the hospital.
“Good thing it’s winter,” answered Marc good-naturedly. The driver laughed and Rebekka joined in.
“Ah, alone at last,” Rebekka said with a heartfelt sigh when they finally reached the hotel.
There was a message at the front desk from Ariana, and when Marc returned her call, he blinked with amazement. “It’s Josette,” he told Rebekka. “She went into labor on the drive home. Zack barely made it to a hospital before she gave birth. Both mother and baby are doing fine, though, and he should be able to drive them back to Paris tomorrow or the next day—once he recovers from the slight concussion he gained when he fainted in the emergency room.”
“Well, that’s one nephew’s birthday we won’t forget!”
They laughed together and made their way to the elevator. When they arrived at their spacious three-room hotel suite, Marc glanced around and whistled. “I don’t remember ordering a piano.”
“I did that.” Rebekka took his hand and led him to the sofa. “I found out where you had our reservations and changed the room to one with a piano.”
He pulled her onto the sofa and held her close, staring deeply into her eyes as their lips met. How happy she was! Adding to the joy of being wrapped in his arms was the assurance that they were now husband and wife, joined for eternity.
After a time she pulled away, remembering there was something she needed to share with him. “I have a surprise for you. Just sit here and wait.” She arose and went to the piano where she kicked off her red heels, pausing a moment before beginning the song she had written for him. Her parents had planned a huge wedding dinner after their return, and she would play this song again in front of their guests, but today’s performance would be solely for Marc.
She began to play, at first caressing the keys softly, gently, slowly, and then coaxing more from the instrument, increasing in both tempo and volume, hoping that all the love and longing she had put into the music’s creation over the years came through in the notes. The chords pounded through her heart and into the still room. Never had she played so well or with so much emotion.
U
pon finishing, she turned to see him standing beside her, staring at her, tears wetting his cheeks. “I’ve never heard you play that before. It’s beautiful—what is it?”
She had debated on several titles for days, yet none seemed perfect for the piece. But as he asked, an idea came to her mind. “It’s called ‘Ties that Bind,’ ” she answered with sureness. “I wrote it for you.” She bent to scoop up her shoes, but he put his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him. She released the heels and one hit the piano keys as though in harmony to their emotion.
“Ties that Bind,” Marc murmured. “That’s exactly how I feel. We are bound with love—a tie that will last forever.”
“Forever,” Rebekka echoed. She lifted her lips to seal their promise with a kiss.
We hope you enjoyed this novel and want to follow Rebekka’s continuing story in Twice in a Lifetime, a sneak peek of which begins on the next page, followed by a bonus preview of House Without Lies, a romance by the author under the name Rachel Branton. If you have enjoyed Ties that Bind, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. A list of all books by Rachel Ann Nunes can be found in the About the Author section after the sample chapters.
THE END
Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Rebekka Massoni Perrault arrived much too early at the Parisian restaurant where she planned to meet her husband for lunch. She couldn’t help herself. With news as wonderful and life-changing as she had to share, how could she be anything but early?
She felt everyone could see the difference in her face. It sang in her veins and echoed on the hot August air as pungent and enticing as the smell of the fresh bread that permeated the streets of Paris. Surely Marc wouldn’t be surprised at her announcement. He would take one look at her and know. His brown eyes would twinkle in the way she loved and his ready grin would fill his handsome face. Then he would wrap his arms around her and laugh with pure joy.
“Rebekka!”
She looked up to see her brother-in-law André Perrault emerging from the depths of the restaurant. Since Perrault and Massoni Engineering and Architecture was located across from the restaurant and down the street a short way, she wasn’t surprised at his presence. Both Marc and André, as well as her own brother Raoul Massoni, the third partner in the firm, often came here for lunch, either on their own or with clients.
“Hi André.” She smiled and waved in greeting. Once she would have launched herself into his arms and shared her good news, knowing he would be happy for her, but such openness belonged to years ago—before she had chosen to marry his older brother Marc. Though André had never treated her other than a sister since the day of her marriage, she remembered when there had been more between them than friendship, a time when she wondered if she was engaged to the right brother. Because of that, she was still careful. Guarded. Just in case.
“You look beautiful today.” He didn’t kiss her cheeks in the customary French greeting. The innocent gesture was something else she missed, one more thing that belonged only to her childhood. Yet though she missed the easy camaraderie, there was no way she would take back her decision to marry Marc. The past two years and eight months had been the most happy time of her entire life. She loved Marc so completely; there was no doubt in her mind that she’d made the right choice.
“Thank you.” She smiled, eying her brother-in-law’s finely cut gray suit. “You’re looking rather nice yourself. Just finished a lunch meeting?”
His laughter was warm and his brown eyes, so like Marc’s, glinted with amusement. “You guessed it. Just nailed another bid and took the client out to celebrate.” He lowered his voice. “You know how they treat me here—like royalty. My client was completely impressed.”
She laughed with him. André, either at this exclusive restaurant where he was so well-known or anywhere else, was always someone who impressed people. Though not quite as tall as her husband, his shoulders were broader, and his dark brown hair as every bit as thick. His attractive face was decidedly masculine, and his manner engaging. His heart was equally admirable, and over the years Rebekka had often been a first-hand witness of his compassion. She had watched him with clients, members of their church, and with Ana and Marée, his young, motherless daughters. She especially noticed the kind and firm hand he had extended to his adopted son, Thierry, who was by birth André’s nephew on his wife’s side of the family. Without André’s unconditional love and guidance, the eighteen-year-old Thierry would likely be living a life of hunger and drug dealing on the streets.
The one thing André didn’t do was date, though no one who had known his wife could blame him for that. Claire’s death almost three years ago had taken a heavy toll on his soul. But that was something else they didn’t talk about.
“Are you meeting Marc?” André asked.
“Yes. I’m early, though. I suppose I’ll have a seat and wait for him.” She glanced past him at the thin, distinguished-looking maître d’ hovering near at his post.
“I’ll tell him to hurry. I’m headed back to the office right now.”
“Thanks.”
Rebekka watched him leave the restaurant before heading toward the maître d’.
“Ah, Madame Massoni,” he said with his small perfunctory bow. “I have your table reserved. This is a very important day for you, no? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Yes. This is one of the happiest days of my life.”
Later, the statement would return to haunt her.
* * *
As he left Rebekka, the old familiar loneliness hit André square in the chest. Oh, it wasn’t always this hurtful—usually he could talk to Rebekka and remember that he’d done the right thing in encouraging her to marry his brother. They belonged together as he and Claire had belonged together. But today Rebekka was so beautiful and . . . well, radiant, and Claire so long absent from his life that for some reason it took more effort than usual to stay aloof. Exactly why he couldn’t say; he was well resigned to living the rest of his life alone.
Squinting in the bright sunlight, André shoved on the dark glasses he’d begun wearing more and more of late. Not because he needed them, but because they made it easier to hide his loneliness. Sometimes he would even leave them on inside—especially when Rebekka and Marc were in the room. He would never let either his brother or Rebekka realize how much he suffered. He wanted them to enjoy their life together—and he was happy for them. Well, at least he tried.
How had it all happened? Well, he knew, of course, but the reality wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Shortly after his wife’s sudden death, his feelings for Rebekka—ones that had root in a youthful crush but had lain forgotten during his years of marriage to Claire—had blossomed. Rebekka had returned his feelings, at least in part, but she’d loved Marc from her childhood and had chosen, in the end, to marry him. End of story.
From that time there had sprung up between them an invisible gulf that neither he nor Rebekka would ever approach, much less attempt to cross. Yet for André the old feelings were difficult to set aside completely. Lately he’d found it an increasing challenge to be in her presence and he used every opportunity to distance himself. No matter the consequence to his own feelings, he would never allow his loneliness to hurt either Rebekka or his brother.
Sometimes the distancing worked. Most of the time he enjoyed seeing them happy together. But not today. Today seeing her waiting so eagerly for Marc made the loneliness in his heart ache.
Why was today different? André couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but there had been something new about Rebekka. While always beautiful with her dark auburn hair, oval face, and slender, smartly-dressed figure, today she’d was absolutely dazzling. There was an undefinable look in her gray eyes, a becoming flush on her high cheek bones, and the line of her strong chin was somehow softened. Every one of the fourteen freckles on her otherwise unblemished face seemed more appealing than the first time h
e’d counted them years ago.
It’s because she’s meeting the man she loves. André felt no bitterness at the thought. He’d shared a great love with Claire and believed he would again in the next life. He loved his brother and Rebekka enough to wish them a similar relationship, despite the insoluble longing that too often arose in his heart.
Fighting this inner turmoil, André walked steadily in the direction of the crosswalk. Around him he heard the clatter of feet against the cobblestones, the continuous hum of the car motors, rising and fading as they raced madly past. Frequently the drivers used their horns to warn off pedestrians or perhaps simply because they felt like it—André couldn’t be sure. There was also the occasional shout from a pedestrian greeting an acquaintance. He saw that he wouldn’t make the street before the light changed; the area became more and more crowded each day—with both people and cars. He didn’t mind. The noise and bustle was invigorating, exciting.
He continued walking, his thoughts once again drawn to his personal life. His only salvation in the years since Claire’s death was the gospel of Jesus Christ, his children, and his work. He lived for these things and had found great joy in them. The laughter in his life had returned.
Yet he was not complete, and there was nothing he could do about it.
His family and friends urged him to date, but he felt no need. Losing Claire was heartache enough for a lifetime. No, better he stick to being a father, businessman, and friend. This, he knew he could accomplish with at least some measure of success.
Lifting his head toward the intersection in the distance, André caught sight of his brother on the far side. He was closer to the street than André, but wouldn’t make the light this time either. Marc spied him and grinned boyishly, lifting a hand in greeting. Though Marc was three years older than André, he often passed for younger. André suspected that his brother’s youthful appearance was due to his well-deserved happiness—or perhaps to the fact that Marc had married a woman nearly ten years his junior.
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