“Whoa,” I called. James was hanging out of a wobbly window in the tree house that threatened at any moment to dump him onto the hard, weed-covered ground below.
“Hi!” James waved.
“Daddy!” Lauren appeared in the doorway. “This is a cool house, but it has lots of nails, and I scraped myself.” She showed me her hand.
Glad that I’d left my tie and jacket in my car, I climbed up the wood rails, some half grown into the old tree and several loose or threatening to fall apart. I’d have to assign Rikki a home teacher who knew about being a handyman.
Unless she had a husband. I realized I’d forgotten to ask. After all, she had children, and that likely meant she had someone in her life. Or had in the past.
The tree house was fairly large inside but not in good repair. A pink toolbox lay open in the middle of the room. Someone had obviously tried to fix a tilting wall and the wobbly window, but it was a haphazard job. What I needed was more wood and a saw. The broken pieces of that shelf might serve for the time being.
I reached for the shelf, tugging at it to remove it the rest of the way. “Lauren, hand me the hammer in that box.”
“You need nails, too?”
“Yes, please.”
“I got some big ones.” James pulled a handful from his pocket. “Can I help? That’s okay if you say no. But I can help if you want me to.”
The need in his voice called to me. “Sure, James.”
“Me, too, Daddy?” Lauren extended the hammer.
“Sure. Both of you can help.” It would take longer with their help, but that was the point of a tree house. It reminded me of when the children were little and Becca had insisted they take their own plates to the dishwasher after each meal. I’d argued that it was faster for us to do it, but in the long run she’d been right.
It was starting to grow dark when I was finally satisfied that the window and wall were secure. I climbed down the ladder and this time made it to the front door, which, to my surprise, was ajar. I pushed it open. “Hello?”
“In the kitchen,” Becca called.
I followed the laughter into the kitchen. Rikki and Becca were seated on the counter looking younger than their years. Travis slumped in a chair with a bored expression on his face, and Cory perched on another nearby. “Are we going to move the beds or what?” Travis asked.
Becca hopped off the counter and gave me a kiss. I felt Rikki’s gaze, and my arm tightened around my wife.
“Travis said your car was here,” Becca said. “I called him to help. I’d wondered where you were.”
“I heard the kids around back.” I met Rikki’s gaze. “That tree house isn’t as sturdy as it should be.”
With a small, worried sound, Becca started for the door, but I stopped her. “Don’t worry. I fixed it—at least temporarily. Someone left a tool box out there with a hammer and some nails. The kids aren’t in any immediate danger.”
“I should have checked.”
Rikki waved a hand in dismissal. “It was fine. I put a whole bunch of nails in earlier.”
I grinned. “That explains the pink toolbox. But it was still kind of wobbly.”
“You’ve always been such a worrywart,” Rikki said with a laugh. “Guess that hasn’t changed.”
Silence fell over the kitchen, and I wondered if it was because she’d spoken with such familiarity. Becca caught my gaze. I briefly wondered how I’d feel if someone from Becca’s past appeared out of nowhere. I doubted I would have invited him to dinner and helped him clean his house. Becca was incredible.
“So where are these beds?”
Rikki slid off the counter, hardly more than a scrap of a thing. I’d have thought the years would have put a few pounds on her, since both her parents had been a healthy size, but apparently not. “Out in the trailer. I’ll show you.”
I decided to set up the bed frames as well, since it’d have to be done anyway. The Savior believed in service, even on a Sunday, and so did I. Becca and Rikki helped Travis and me screw the metal frames to the wooden headboards. The furniture was battered, and the ease with which Rikki threw the pieces together made me suspect she’d done this before, and maybe even by herself, though she wouldn’t have been able to carry in the headboard alone—or the queen mattress.
“Is there any other big furniture?” I asked when we’d finished.
“A couple of dressers. Everything else is in boxes.”
“No appliances?”
“Nope. We’ll have to use the laundromat for a while.”
“Come on, Travis.” We carried in the dressers, while Becca, Rikki, and Cory stacked boxes in the living room. Though Rikki had only meager belongings, I was beginning to wish I’d invited a few neighbors to help. Thankfully, Allia and Kyle appeared from wherever they’d been, and we put them to work on the boxes as well, emptying the rest of the trailer in good time.
“There,” I said. “Now you won’t be stuck with bringing all that in.”
Rikki sat on a box, which caved a bit under her weight. “It’ll save me money to get that rental trailer back tomorrow. I really appreciate it.”
“We’d better let you get some sleep.” Becca caught my eye pointedly, and I knew she could see the bags under Rikki’s eyes. She looked about dead on her feet.
“Come on, kids,” I said.
“I’m taking off.” This from Travis, who’d driven over on his own.
As I headed to my car, the girls piled in the van with Becca while Rikki and Kyle watched us from the door. I felt uncomfortable, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.
“That girl, Kyle, is a bit strange,” Allia said as we entered our own house a few minutes later.
“Strange how?” Becca asked.
“Well, first of all her clothes are, well, kind of slutty, and she has everything pierced—her nose, her belly button. She says her mom made her take off the nose ring, but she says she’s going to keep putting it in at night so the hole won’t close. She showed it to me, and it looks so funny, like the ring Brother Warner put in the nose of one of his problem cows to control her. We went there for Young Women, and I thought it was really sad.”
“You should have told her she looked like a cow,” Cory joked.
“Ah, no,” Becca said. “You both need to be nice to her.”
Cory shivered. “She gives me the creeps. She’s small, but she’s old-looking, too.”
“She’s thirteen,” Allia said. “And I don’t think she’s the kind of person you want me to hang out with. She’s more boy crazy than Cydnee.”
“She doesn’t seem that bad,” Travis said. “I mean, yeah, too much makeup, but she seems nice enough.”
I hadn’t missed her longing glances at him—I looked for those things in my role as protector of the ward youth. Maybe he hadn’t missed it either.
“Well, I love James,” Lauren says. “He’s my best friend now.”
“That’s only because he does everything you say.” Travis bopped her on the head. “Don’t think we didn’t see you ordering him around like a slave.”
“He likes to do what I say,” Lauren protested. “He likes me.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I said, clapping my hands to cut off the discussion. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow in family night. Everyone come for prayer.” Exhaustion always fell over me on Sunday nights, and the extra effort at Rikki’s had added to the weight. Becca and I would have to discuss Kyle at length and pray about her influence before we decided what, if anything, we should do regarding her possible friendship with Allia.
Later, after the children were in bed, I changed into my pajamas with a sigh of relief and headed to the bathroom connected to our bedroom to brush my teeth.
“She seems happy to be back home,” Becca said, pulling down the blankets on the bed.
Becca arched a brow. “Is that some sort of bishopy wisdom, or just you?”
“Not inspiration. I knew Rikki for almost half my life, and I can see she’s hurting. I wonder why she’s really here. It’s the last place I’d expect her to be.”
“I think you’re right.” Becca sat on the bed. “She’s sending out some weird vibes.”
“She didn’t say anything when you were there today? You two looked pretty cozy in the kitchen.”
“The only thing I learned is that she’s lived all over and that sometimes she’s left her children for extended periods with friends. Not sure why. She wasn’t specific. She’s an interesting person, though, I’ll give you that. Why do you think she’s really here?”
“Maybe she has regrets. She missed the funerals of both her parents. Perhaps she’s come to say goodbye.”
Becca’s lips curved in the hint of a frown. “She didn’t seem to have any love lost for her dad.”
“He wasn’t an easy man, but she loved her mother. Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t very strong.” What I meant was that Rikki’s mother hadn’t kept her husband from emotionally abusing their daughter, but that wasn’t my story to tell, not even to Becca. Not now. “But Rikki was never one to worry about the past, what she couldn’t change. Maybe she’s trying to turn over a new leaf. After all, she was in church today.”
My wife was silent for a long moment and then asked, “What was she to you?”
I studied her in the light coming through our bathroom. I noticed the dusky shadows under her eyes, the faint lines at the corners. The curve of her cheek. Her eyelashes. I wished I didn’t have to answer, but I’d held this back from her for long enough. Not purposefully but because I hadn’t thought it mattered. With Rikki back in town—for whatever reason—she needed to know.
“I told you we grew up together, and that’s true, but before my mission, Rikki and I were engaged. I was torn between going on a mission and staying home to marry her, but the bishop and my father”—I swallowed hard—“urged me to do my duty.”
“Your father?” The surprise was evident in her voice.
Yes, my inactive father, whom I’d always thought joined the Church only because of my mother. We’d been sitting across from each other in our small kitchen, the stark light from the afternoon sun shining onto the table through the open window. He’d looked at me with solemn eyes, with the face I’d rarely seen laugh. “There’re a lot of choices in life, son, and this one’s going to affect you forever. You could stay and marry Rikki, but if you do that, you’ll always regret it. I know it might not seem like that to you now, but it’s true, and believe me, regret is not the way to live. I’ve lived an entire life of regret. I haven’t been a good father to you, but if you ever choose to listen to me, I hope you’ll do it now. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life living in the past. You’ve taken care of Rikki long enough. She can fight her own battles now. If she’s right for you, she’ll know how much this means to you, and she’ll wait. You need to stop depending on her and make your own choices.”
My inactive father hadn’t been there my entire life, except as a shadow, a caretaker who’d given me shelter and clothes and food but otherwise had been missing. For that moment he’d been real. It’s how I remembered him now. I could never repay his advice of that day.
“Yes, my father,” I answered Becca slowly. “He knew I had a testimony and that I wouldn’t be happy if I denied it, so in the end, I chose a mission. Rikki wasn’t excited about my choice. She left.”
“She broke up with you?”
“It wasn’t a surprise. I knew what the choice meant when I made it.”
“You chose the Lord.” She said it firmly, almost proudly. Her confidence vanished a second later when she whispered, “Do you ever regret it?”
Back then I thought I would. I’d feared my father was letting me down one more time.
Memories assaulted me, and for a moment I felt drawn back into a past that only I could see. “I’ll miss you,” I’d told Rikki when she’d left. She’d been my best friend since kindergarten, and I wasn’t sure I could go on without her. What kind of missionary could I be without her support?
“Of course you will.” Her eyes flashed a blue promise. “You’ll miss me every single day, and you’ll regret everything. But I won’t miss you, Dante. I promise, I won’t. I’ll be having too much fun.”
I believed her, and that hurt more than anything. I was sure at that moment I’d made the wrong choice.
Yet in the end, it was Rikki who was wrong. I missed her those first months, but afterward I’d been too swept up in the sweetness of teaching the gospel, and only when I’d see someone who looked like her would the old pain return. Not too often. Never after meeting Becca. Until today I hadn’t realized there was still a part of me that missed Rikki. A part of me that clung to childhood and had no place in my future.
Tears started in my eyes, tears I hoped Becca didn’t see. “That choice brought me you.” I pulled her into my arms, where she fit as if she were a vital part of me. “Becca, you’re the best thing that has ever happened in my life. I absolutely don’t regret my choice then or any choice since that brought you to me.”
“Good answer, mister.” She snuggled her face into my neck, and quite another emotion rippled through my body, pushing away the exhaustion. I tilted her face to mine, kissing her slowly and then with more passion.
Time stopped.
Chapter Eight
Rikki
I lay in the tree house so I could see the stars, wishing I could hold on to this moment forever, with my children lying close to me, their small bodies warm against my sides. Innocent, protected, and all mine.
I’d slept at least a couple hours, judging by the ache in my bones from the hard floor, but despite my seemingly permanent exhaustion, I couldn’t sleep. I never could sleep through the night anymore.
Dante a bishop. It was hard to believe, and yet on the other hand, it wasn’t. Even when we were children, he’d taken the religion thing more seriously than I had. Maybe because his mother had drilled it into him as a small child. Or maybe he’d been born that way. Maybe he’d found a peace that eluded me. I’d known people who’d found peace, and they’d come from all backgrounds and religions. I didn’t know what that meant for me. What was truth but an extension of ourselves?
I hadn’t known about his being the bishop of the ward, though I had searched him out on the Internet and found out where he lived, so I knew which ward to attend. I wasn’t surprised to find him back here. He liked the comfortable, the familiar.
What I hadn’t suspected was that I’d like it, too. These people had known me as a child of promise, regardless of my questionable background. They didn’t know where I’d been, that I hadn’t been married to the fathers of my children, or that I’d been married twice, once six months after Dante left on his mission, and once when Kyle was five. Neither experience had been enjoyable.
I didn’t regret anything. All the experiences in my life added up to the person I’d become, to the people my children were becoming. To regret meant to wish them away.
What I regretted was the future.
I closed my eyes and tried to hold back the sobs, as tears rolled from my eyes and down into my hair.
It was okay, this nightly ritual, because it helped me be strong for the children during the day.
Kyle’s white cheek was illuminated by the moonlight. My little girl, trying so hard to grow up. My fault in a big way, but I was hoping to rectify that. If only she hadn’t
started falling for Travis.
If I’d married Dante, our son could have looked like Travis, with my blue eyes and Dante’s good looks and strong build. He might have been Kyle’s sibling instead of Allia’s.
Imagining did not mean regret. It was simply the path not taken.
Becca and Dante were good people, which meant Dante hadn’t changed all that much from the boy I’d known. If their inviting us to dinner and helping us move in wasn’t enough, the box of clothing Becca brought had proven it further.
“Some of Allia’s outgrown things,” she’d said casually. “Kyle seems to be a size or two smaller than Allia, so if she can use them, we’d love for her to have them. They’re all pretty much in style, and they probably won’t be by the time Lauren could wear them. Oh, and Allia’s discreet. Kyle doesn’t have to worry about her saying anything to embarrass her.”
I’d snorted. “If Kyle were embarrassed at hand-me-downs, she’d be going around naked.” That had startled Becca. “What I mean is,” I added, “thanks. I’ll show them to her later.” At least now I understood the look between mother and daughter at their house. They either weren’t impressed with Kyle’s clothing at church or suspected how poor we were. Either way, I didn’t mind. For now I wouldn’t tell Kyle where the clothes came from. She didn’t need to know her benefactress was so close.
Or that I intended for her to get a lot closer to the Rushtons.
Stifling the little hole that thought carved in my heart, I started making plans.
Becca was good. Maybe too good, though, because I’d felt the ache in her voice when she said she’d wanted to visit famous gardens and feel them. She needed to do that, at least a little, so I’d have to help her with that. Before she could help me. She needed to have a release that wasn’t wrapped up in Dante and the children.
Before I Say Goodbye Page 6