by Sue Rabie
She stroked the back of his neck, held him gently as he leaned on her. He gripped her jersey and her long dark hair in his fists.
‘You have to stop now, David,’ she told him. She traced her hand down his back as she spoke. ‘You have to let it go.’
She brushed her cheek against his. ‘Just let it go,’ she told him.
His eyes were still shut, the pain terrible.
She smiled at him even though she knew he wasn’t looking at her.
‘I can’t,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, David,’ she told him. ‘You can.’
She cupped his face in her hands. ‘You saved us all, David, and now you have to save yourself … Let it go … Just let it go …’
And the white pain in his chest eased. The dizziness floating away as her words slowly entered his mind. He opened his eyes.
The breeze had dropped again, but the gusts had left a wisp of hair across her face.
He reached up and slowly brushed it away. He let his fingers linger, realising for the first time he hadn’t compared her to Charlene … hadn’t thought of Charlene since the morning on the cliff.
It was May in front of him, May who had opened his eyes.
The pain in his chest was still there, but it was different now, a different colour. The white hot agony was gone. In its place was a slow sorrow, a deep and clear and simple longing for his daughter. He had never mourned her, he had never allowed himself to, but he felt it now, and he could also feel the love he had for her.
‘I loved her,’ he whispered. ‘I truly loved her.’
He felt so lost, yet at the same time filled with hope.
May took his hand in hers and held it tightly. ‘I know,’ she said, and kissed him.
It was a light kiss, gentle and caring. He could taste her tears on her lips.
He brought his hand up to her face and pulled her closer, tasting her more deeply before easing back.
She had her eyes closed, and he watched her blink them open slowly and look up at him.
‘Don’t leave, May.’
She frowned slightly, her lips parted in a question.
‘They told me you were leaving,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to fetch the boy.’
He didn’t understand, his mind still swirling from the kiss.
‘Siyabonga,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I’m going with Miriam to fetch him from the orphanage.’
Epilogue
❄
Sister Elizabeth frowned at the cardboard box that the delivery man held out to her. It was unusual that they received any deliveries from a direct delivery service at St Margaret of the Cross Orphanage. Most of their post arrived with the postman on his bicycle.
She pulled her reading glasses from the folds of her habit and settled them on her nose to read the sender’s address on the box, noting the impatience on the delivery man’s face as he was forced to hold the heavy box while she inspected it.
Anonymous Donor, the label said. Boston Country Club.
‘What’s in it?’ she enquired of the delivery man.
The poor man was starting to sweat with the weight of the box. By the looks of it he had already struggled with the box before. A corner of cardboard had been torn off, revealing part of a school satchel beneath.
‘It’s a donation, Sister,’ the delivery man said. ‘Of books, I suppose.’
Sister Elizabeth stared dubiously at the box. Oh well, she thought as she thanked the delivery man, one can never have enough books.
❄
The end
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Human & Rousseau,
an imprint of NB Publishers,
a division of Media24 Boeke (Pty) Ltd,
40 Heerengracht, Cape Town, 8001
PO Box 5050, Cape Town, 8000, South Africa
www.humanrousseau.com
Copyright © Sue Rabie 2008
All rights reserved.
No part of this electronic book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying and recirding, or by any othre information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
E-book design by Trace Digital Services
Available in print:
First edition, first impression 2008
ISBN: 978-0-7981-4977-8
Epub edition:
First edition 2012
ISBN: 978-0-7981-5436-9 (epub)
Mobi edition:
First edition 2012
ISBN: 978-0-7981-6113-8 (mobi)