by Dawson, H A
Leaning back, he gazed at the setting. High up on the walls were rectangular and arched stained glass windows with glorious religious representations, with the most impressive being above the altar upon the furthest side. Just in front and to the right was a pipe organ, and at the other side were pews for the choir. The pulpit was a little closer, and was shiny and constructed from carved wood.
It was easy to imagine the minister’s dulcet tones urging him away from his turbulence, but it was not so easy for Jason to forgive himself for his immoral act. He knew he should never have paid Dr O’Riordan for a quicker service. He should have waited his turn and accepted whatever came his way. Ethan’s life may be precious to Jason, but to the Lord, it was no more precious than the next child.
Under normal circumstances, it was not something Jason would ever have condoned. He was cheating the system, beating the queue. He should have shown more inner strength and not relented to a momentary weakness. He should have resisted temptation.
He rested his head in his hands and apologised. But it was impossible to feel true remorse when bouncing through his mind were images of his sick son. He was only doing what every parent would do. He was trying to save his child. It was something he and his departed wife had discussed.
Memories of the day Holly revealed her pregnancy created a flicker of joy in his heart. She had been bursting to tell him the good news all day, and greeted him with a broad smile and jiggling body. She couldn’t keep still, such had been her animation, and danced around the room entrenched him happiness. He too had been joyous. He was going to be a father and nothing could be better.
They had talked about their child’s future, imagining and discussing his physical features, his personality, his hopes and desires, but not for one second, had they thought to discuss the possibility of a serious illness. When the news came, it was as though Jason’s entire life had crashed to the floor and fractured into tiny pieces. He was crippled with grief and experienced a searing pain, crushing and restricting like never before. Each day was the same, more nausea, more agony. Searching for a solution, he had vowed to live each of Ethan’s days as though it was the last.
Holly had told him he had immense inner strength. To Jason, it seemed a baffling turn of phrase as he felt anything but, yet he felt obliged to keep up the pretence. He had told her they would get through the imminent ordeal; he had said he would do whatever it took.
Jason rubbed his hand across his head then shut his eyes, and Holly’s ebullience on the day she shared the news of her pregnancy continued to pound his mind. Silently, he told her he was keeping his word, vowing to do whatever it took regardless of the cost, but rather than receiving a stony glaze as expected, she continued to smile. It was then he knew she would have done the same.
His eyes opened and he swung his gaze to the left and to the right, reinvigorated by his newfound confidence and enjoying the tranquillity and stillness of the empty church. Holly was watching over Ethan; she was helping him fight and she was protecting him in his sleep. Their son was in safe hands.
Jason stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, and huddled his arms closer to his body, reducing the chill from the night air as he stepped from the bus and headed along the illuminated road to Michelle’s small dwelling.
Across the road, a mother guided her two small girls from the car to the house. They carried small bags and wore tutus, and their faces were alight with enthusiasm. Their voices were screechy and their words hurried, and they sounded to talk gibberish. He glanced at their mother, who seemed a little pensive and feigned interest, and a heavy yearning expanded in his gut. It should be him experiencing such pleasure; it should be Holly.
Her death had been sudden, and the shock had stayed with him for weeks. Ethan, in many ways, had saved him from self-destruction. Where would he have been without the distraction? Maybe he would have turned to gambling or drink. Maybe he would have wallowed in grief, day in, day out.
The days had been blurred, unidentifiable, as Jason had persisted with his chores and looked after Ethan in a daze. He adored everything about him, his puzzled expression when something happened unexpectedly, his screwed up face when he was angry, and his cheeky antics when he pushed the boundaries, searching for a reaction.
Yet at the same time, the sight of his son could create a crippling wretchedness, as the link between mother and child had remained. He had seen Holly within Ethan - in his nose, his jaw-line, and his beautiful chocolate eyes – and it broke his heart. Jason had lashed out with his words, blaming his son for the physical similarities, and he had wanted him gone.
Remembering the harshness of his thoughts turned his stomach. He gulped a sour taste, and zipped his jacket closer to his neck and glanced skyward. Within the illumination were the fine drops of rain. He hurried his steps and lowered his head, and knocked on the Michelle’s house door. The sooner he found out what she wanted, the sooner he could return to Ethan.
The door opened. Michelle nodded her greeting and scurried away. He removed his jacket, placed it on a peg, and trailed in her shadow.
‘Did you bring a first aid kit?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Over there.’ He pointed with his eyes. ‘Where are you hurt?’
She lifted her arm. Blood soaked wadding beneath her blouse, just above her waist.
‘It looks worse than it is,’ she said.
‘Let me see.’
Michelle revealed a clean slice about five centimetres in length and gaping open.
‘You need stitches.’
‘No!’
‘What I’ve brought won’t fix this. It could turn septic.’
She flung him a harsh stare. ‘I said no.’
‘But why ever not?’
Silence.
‘Who did this?’
‘It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again.’
‘Is it to do with the investigation?’ Jason asked.
Tight-lipped, Michelle returned the wadding to her body, attempted to re-stick the tape to her skin, and lowered her blouse.
‘At least go to the police.’
‘No!’ She flung him a harsh stare. ‘And don’t you either. No one must know about this.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘And there’s one more thing. I want you to promise me you’ll look after Brittany.’
Jason frowned and perched on the edge of the sofa. He couldn’t promise anyone anything right now . . . except of course to Ethan.
‘Please. It’s important.’
Too fatigued and distressed to argue, he nodded vaguely, and her face softened, erasing her lines of anxiety.
‘I’ve never stopped loving her,’ Michelle said, ‘you must make sure she knows that.’
‘Can’t you tell her?’
‘She doesn’t believe me. We always used to have problems. She got on more with Gavin than me, and no matter what I did, it was always wrong. We’re too different.’ She slumped onto the armchair, keeping her hand firm on her wound. ‘Brittany said I smothered her when I was simply loving her. She said I was over protective when I was trying to stop her catching infections. She said I criticised her all the time when I trying to help her make improvements.’
‘You paint a very dark picture.’
‘We fought all the time. All I ever wanted to do was look after her, but she insisted I was trying to stop her fun.’ Michelle glanced up, caught Jason’s eye. ‘You must have the same problems with Ethan.’
‘I . . . I suppose.’
‘How is he?’
Jason swallowed. ‘I have to get back there. I don’t want to leave him too long.’
‘I feel for you. I know exactly what you’re going through. But at least the two of you have a future. Brittany and I never had.’
‘It’s not even worth fighting for?’
She reached across the sideboard for a small photo and stared at the image. Jason guessed it was of Brittany, given the pained look in her eyes, yet he felt little sympathy. They
were both alive and capable of forming a relationship, but Michelle was stubborn and refused to try. It especially infuriated him since it seemed to be because of a few differences of opinion. Could one of them not swallow a bit of pride and make a concerted effort?
‘We have no future,’ Michelle said stoically. ‘Maybe one day you’ll understand, when Ethan’s a bit older.’
‘I doubt I’ll ever understand. It seems such a waste.’
Michelle grimaced and tightened her hand on the wadding.
She was stubborn, too stubborn to form a relationship with Brittany and too stubborn to accept she should go to hospital. He didn’t have the energy to try to change her mind.
Jason edged towards the door. He had done what he intended, and now Ethan needed him. ‘I have to go.’
‘Hang on.’
Michelle shuffled to the kitchen, grimacing and straining, and opened the kitchen door and headed to her handbag on the floor. He hovered in the hallway, watching as she pulled out money from her purse and counted it onto the table.
‘I want you to take this,’ she said, ‘for the taxi home and the first aid kit. And no arguments. You were good enough to come over.’
He stepped towards her and pushed the kitchen door open a little further. It rebounded on something. He peered around the door and to a suitcase, and reached out his hand. Out of his eye corner, he caught sight of a ringed date on the calendar. He took the money and thanked her.
‘Please let Brittany know I love her, and look after her,’ Michelle said.
Jason nodded and departed.
The door closed. He zipped his jacket and headed along the street to a taxi office. Suddenly, he thought about the suitcase. Stopping, he gazed back at the house, noting the illuminated upstairs window and darkness in the living room. Michelle was planning to leave and she wasn’t going to say goodbye to Brittany. He should go back and tell her she was being cowardly and merciless. But when he thought of Ethan’s small frail body resting in the hospital bed, he reconsidered. Michelle was not his problem.
He drifted into the office, ordered a taxi, and slumped onto a chair. He would love to be in Michelle’s position. At least that would have meant that Ethan had survived a successful transplant. However, if that happened, there would be one monumental difference; he would never abandon his son the way she had abandoned Brittany. Ethan would be devastated.
The same would surely apply to Brittany.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped in a message, informing Brittany of Michelle’s plan. It was all he could manage. He was too fatigued for a conversation, and too fearful of what was before him to involve himself in anymore in their problems. From now on, his time would be Ethan’s, and Ethan’s alone.
Chapter 26
Luke’s hands trembled, causing the steering wheel to judder as he guiding his car on a familiar route to Sarah’s flat. He had done it so many times before that he felt as though he could guide the car with his eyes closed, and reacquainted himself with the long hedgerow, the semi-detached dwellings, and the pink house at a corner.
The comfort seeped through his body, reawakening emotions he had tried hard to discard. He loved her and he hated her. He wanted to forget her and he wanted to cherish her.
A montage of their lives danced in his mind. He remembered her lies, her inattentive behaviour and her lack of tact, but in comparison to what he perceived was before him, it seemed inconsequential and his dark thoughts faded. Instead, he contemplated her caring words, lustful eyes, and sensitive touch, and dwelled on the love they had shared, their hopes and dreams. They had both yearned for a house in the country, although her desires had been significantly greater than his. She had wanted the very best, with a paddock and stables, a jacuzzi, a swimming pool, and a multitude of rooms to cater for a variety of interests, from piano playing to reading. His tastes were less grand, and he did not need to live in such luxurious soundings. It seemed a little impractical to have to maintain rooms and facilities that would hardly ever be used.
Nonetheless, if that was still Sarah’s wish, he could be persuaded.
He indicated left, drove by a newsagent with a new façade, and turned along a street. Cars were parked on both sides, leaving little space in the middle for manoeuvrability. Nothing changed. It had always been cramped.
His excitement mingled with his nerves as he turned into the car park next to Sarah’s block of flats, and ran his hand across his tingling face. His heat was rising, his skin itching, and he could not settle his throbbing heart that was a constant drumming his abdomen. Soon, their initial meeting would be taking place. He hardly dare believe it, and parked the car in a visitors bay and gazed up to her window.
There was a faint light coming from within. It could mean she was watching television in dimmed surroundings, or it could be a security light. Safety had always been high on her list. She had said she didn’t trust the unsavoury types that loitered at the pub across the road, and often saw their eyes wandering to the windows. Luke thought it seemed a little unlikely that they were assessing the flats, but he praised her meticulous behaviour, particularly given she was a woman living alone.
He exited the car and locked the door. There were no shadows passing the window, no signs of her being around, and a sudden and dark thought clouded his mind. What if she had moved? She may have even changed her telephone number. He may never see her again.
Butterflies danced in his stomach. She had remained out of contact for all of these months and it had never seemed to bother her. If she had wanted to be in touch, she knew where to find him. Hesitating, Luke stopped a little distance from the entrance and contemplated his actions. Deciding his indecision was merely cowardice, and that he was only delaying the inevitable, he pushed on. His finger hovered over the bell to her apartment. His heart was in his mouth, pounding hard and fast. He stared at the little speaker.
He pressed the button. He waited.
Nothing.
Maybe she had not heard it. Urging a steady finger, he pressed it again.
Still nothing.
He stepped away from the entrance and gazed at her window. There was still no flicker of movement, no alteration in the light level, and his heart sank.
‘Luke?’
He spun around. The man was one of Sarah’s neighbours and a frequent visitor to her apartment. ‘Hi David. I was hoping to see Sarah. I don’t think she’s in.’
‘Long time no see. How are you?’
‘Yes, I’m good.
‘I’ve not seen you for a few months.’
‘No, I’ve been busy. You know how it is.’
The man, cleanly shaven and with a red, shiny cheeks, nodded. ‘I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. She doesn’t get many visitors. Likes her own company.’
‘She always did . . . could be quite selective.’
‘There is one chap that visits her a fair bit, a classy sort.’
Luke’s stomach plummeted. ‘Is he a colleague?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve only noticed him quite recently – a few weeks at the most. I must confess though, I haven’t spoken to her for a while, I’ve had my own troubles and didn’t want to bother her.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not your problem. I must go. Things to do, people to see.’ He placed his key in the door and turned the lock. ‘If I see her I’ll tell her you called.’
Luke slipped a hand into his pocket and watched him fade from view. She had moved on, got a new man, and didn’t want him around. With his shoulders slumped, he headed back to his car, climbed inside, and placed the key in the ignition. But just as he was about to start the engine, he considered Crystal’s request for him to sort himself out. A conversation would not do any harm, and he had left it too long already. He should stop procrastinating and make a positive move.
He reached into the glove compartment for a slip of paper and pen, wrote a brief message, and then, stepping with an air of confidence, he headed to her post box. Once he ha
d deposited it, he looked to her window and smiled. It felt good to have finally acted upon a decision, and decided, whatever the outcome, he would be all right. Sarah could not hurt him anymore. He had played the first card and now it was up to her to respond.
His expectations soared.
Chapter 27
Brittany strode around her desk, stopping next to the trolley of returned library books, and gazed at the spines. Her eyes were hazy, her focus dwindling, and she wanted to go home. Her mother was leaving and it was unlikely she would even consider saying goodbye. It made no sense. They were just starting to reconnect.
She slumped onto a padded chair and gazed blindly into the library. If her mother had never intended to stay around, she should not have rented a house in the area. Nor should she have teased her with her sudden and temporary appearance. Perhaps Jason had made a mistake. She slipped her hand into her pocket and reached for her telephone. There were no messages and no missed calls. Disappointed, she clutched the cool object in her warm, sticky palm, and prayed for either Jason or her mother to contact her.
Michelle must be running from the investigation. She was afraid she was going to be exposed and knew she would be forced to speak of her cowardice. Evidently, she would sooner hide herself away. But not forever; one way or another, Brittany would track her down and demand a face-to-face explanation.
A thought dawned. Perhaps Michelle was not running from her but from the police. Brittany knew her mother had been involved with Dr O’Riordan, and had said as much during their no-so-private conversation at her house. And that aside, Michelle’s guilt had been written into her skin - her tight lips, steadfast expression, and brusque answers during her own confrontation had been there to see. Michelle may be well practised at maintaining an impassive expression, but she wasn’t foolproof, not to everyone.
Risking her parole, rather than admitting her guilt to Luke, was foolish. Luke had said he would try to help her and he had meant it. It was certainly a better option better than being on the run. Brittany glanced to her phone. Giving in to an innate yearning to help, she dialled Michelle’s number. It rang and rang.