Absolution

by Amanda Dick

  Absolution

  A novel by

  Amanda Dick

  Second Edition

  Copyright © 2014 Amanda Dick

  www.AmandaDick.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Cover Art and Design by Anita B Carroll at Race-Point.com

  Editing by Sarah Widdup at Irrefutable Proof

  Formatting by Joseph Eastwood

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  DEDICATIONS

  For Bette Luksha-Gammell, Bobbie Pene, Abigail Andersson, Sandi Laubhan,

  Sharon Goodman, Tracy Skerratt, Lillybeth Melmoth, Tara Horak, Diana Houkamau,

  Jennie Coull, Sherralynne Dewhirst, Kate Gissell, Susan James, Amanda Edwards,

  Emma Spicer, Stephanie Davis-Linkous, Joanne Tolhopf, Sarah Widdup,

  Raewyn McCormack, Lisa Horton, Sarah Gullett, Patricia Lee, Vicki Waters, Verna Stock, Vanessa Macdonald, Susan Marie Schoch, Johanna Rae

  and to

  The Booknatics, A Literary Perusal, Summers Book Blog,

  Amazeballs Book Addicts and Electively Paige

  …for believing in me.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  It takes a village to publish a book, and these are the residents of my village.

  First and foremost, my husband Willie and my children, Georgia and Cameron. Without their understanding and patience, this book would never have been finished. Thank you for making dinner, walking the dog, doing the dishes, attempting to keep your rooms tidy, for responding to frantic requests for peace and quiet and for dragging me (kicking and screaming, at times) out of my studio and reminding me to eat. Love you always.

  Going right back to the beginning of this journey – 2010, I believe? – thank you Lisa Horton, for your encouragement. You were the first person to read this story and I know without a doubt that I would never have had the courage to share this with the world if it hadn’t been for your passion for this story and these characters. Without your enthusiasm, this story would still be on a flash drive somewhere, probably buried in a box full of other flash drives.

  The best beta-reader, friend and cheerleader a girl could have. Yes, I’m talking about you, Tara Horak! Thank you for your insight, encouragement, questions, musings, thoughtful comments, generosity and enthusiasm, and for your belief in me (no small thing). Love ya!

  Sarah Widdup – editor, guru, Sensei – I didn’t find you, you found me. How lucky am I! Thanks for being you, and for making this journey that much more fun, just by having you along for the ride. Our late night conversations still make me giggle. I’m pretty sure not all editors are as cool as you, so I kinda feel like I won the lottery here – twice.

  Thanks to Joseph Eastwood for formatting both ecopy and print version, and to Anita Carroll for a beautiful cover.

  Huge gratitude goes out to everyone who helped me raise the money to re-release this second edition (their names are listed under the Dedications page at the front of this book). Without them, this book would still be waiting to make its appearance!

  Thanks to my Pop, Claude Pettigrew. It was your love of books and reading that set me on this path. Love you and miss you always.

  Lastly, a disclaimer: I am not an expert on spinal cord injuries in general or paraplegia in particular. I have no background in the medical field. In researching Ally’s injury and the possibilities for her mobility, I have learnt more than I could possibly have imagined about both subjects. This story is not meant as a textbook or manual, and I hope that any mistakes or omissions are interpreted purely as poetic licence or ignorance, rather than deliberate errors. To all of you who have shared your stories: you have my admiration and heartfelt thanks.

  PROLOGUE

  “You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

  - Virginia Woolf

  “Eddie Vedder is a god,” Ally announced from the back seat. “No doubt about it.”

  Jack nodded at her in the rear-view mirror.

  “And not only is he a god, but he has to be one of the sexiest men on the planet,” she added.

  Jack winked. “Good save, babe.”

  “He’s the guy that chicks want, and dudes want to be like,” Callum said, turning around to face her from the seat in front. “But I don’t blame you – if I was a chick, I’d do him.”

  “Ugh, now I need bleach to scrub that mental image from my brain.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ally leaned forward between the seats. “Okay – favourite song from the concert tonight.”

  Jack sucked in air through his teeth, eyes on the road ahead. “Oceans.”

  “Crown of Thorns,” Callum said. “I never got to see Mother Love Bone live so it’s the next best thing. Although Why Go was pretty freakin’ amazing.”

  He broke into a frenzied air guitar session in the front seat, his expression rapturous.

  Jack chuckled as Callum turned back to Ally. “Yours?”

  “Black,” she said, without hesitation. “With Release a close second. And I got it all on video. Can’t wait to get home and upload it!” She squealed, leaning back again. “I cannot believe it’s taken so long to see them live, but tonight was worth the wait.”

  “Definitely.”

  “He has the sexiest voice – ever,” she said.

  “Hello?” Callum turned around in the seat again. “Do we have to spend the entire trip home hearing about how sexy he is? I’m sure that, given half a chance, he’d prefer to be known for his talent than his looks or his… general sexiness.”

  “Jealous?” Ally ribbed.

  “When I have all this at my fingertips?” he ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “Not a chance. And come on – he may be sexy, and he may be a rock god, but I’m sure it’s not fun and games all the time. I mean, he probably has those paparazzi bottom-feeders chasing him all over the world, splashing his visit to the pharmacy to buy haemorrhoid cream all over the front page – that’s gotta suck, for sure.”

  Ally leaned forward to swat him hard around the head. “Don’t you dare drag him down to mortal level like that! Anyway, I’m sure he has people to do all that stuff for him.”

  “True. I bet he has people to apply the cream for him too.”

  Ally leaned forward to slap him again but he ducked out of the way.

  “Quit it, you two. Don’t make me the grown-up here,” Jack grinned as he took his foot off the gas in anticipation of the approaching corner.

  The road was still wet, even if the rain had stopped. The country road had been lined with trees for the past half mile, trapping the light from the headlights, bouncing it off the undergrowth and back out onto the road again. The effect was eerie
and he was grateful when the trees gave way to the open countryside again.

  “You need to put a leash on her – she’s outta control tonight!” Callum grinned.

  Jack glanced at Ally in the rear-view mirror and she smiled back, winking wickedly. She was in a playful mood tonight, still on a high from the concert. He could relate. Adrenaline hummed through his veins and his ears still rang from the noise. It had been worth the long drive there and back but he suddenly wished they were home already. The ring tucked safely into the pocket of his jeans dug into him as a physical reminder of what lay ahead.

  Distracting himself, he leaned over to turn the music up and Eddie Vedder’s sultry voice filled the car. Ally swayed to the music in the back seat, a satisfied smile on her face. He turned his attention back to the road as they rounded the corner.

  Headlights cut through the dark, directly into their path, and his heart leapt into his throat. His gut knew instinctively what was about to happen mere seconds before the car hit them.

  Callum yelled as Jack automatically wrenched the steering wheel away from the blinding light. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even have time to slam on the brakes.

  The impact was mind-blowing, sending a shuddering jolt throughout his entire body that turned his limbs to jelly. Time stopped as they skidded across the road, the buzzing in his ears blocking everything else out. Then they were upside down. He squinted out through the windshield, his brain struggling to process what was happening. He felt like he was moving simultaneously in slow motion and fast-forward, and it crossed his mind that this might be how he died. A strange calmness washed over him. His fate was completely out of his hands.

  The car suddenly bounced as it left the road, ripping through a fence, the trees ahead rapidly filling the windshield as he mentally braced himself for the impact. The crazy rollercoaster ride ended as abruptly as it had begun, jolting him again, throwing a spear of pain through his shoulder and neck that momentarily left him breathless.

  And then there was silence. Buzzing, humming, vibrating silence.

  CHAPTER 1

  “There are four questions of value in life; what is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.”

  - Johnny Depp

  Jack bolted upright, bathed in sweat, his heart racing. It took him several long moments to remember where he was.

  The sky is darkest just before the dawn.

  The small window revealed very little light. It was early. How long had he slept? A couple of hours? It felt like less. How could one nightmare squeeze such a lot into such a short space of time? One of the many mysteries of the universe.

  The fear subsided slightly as he recognised the nightmare for what it was. When he was young, his mother would soothe him with “It’s alright, it was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

  But this wasn’t just a nightmare, and it was real. He collapsed back onto the pillow and stared at the grimy ceiling.

  Four years had passed and still he could recall every last detail of that night. In his waking moments he had control for the most part, but when he slept it was a different story. Memories, grief and guilt soaked him like acid, eating away at him.

  Pushing the covers off, he swung his legs down onto the threadbare carpet. His entire body ached. The trembling hand he ran through his short brown hair left it standing on end, the nightmare still nipping at the edges of his subconscious. Ally’s face flashed in front of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, trying to block her out as he fought to regain control.

  In, one thousand. Out, one thousand. In, one thousand. Out, one thousand.

  Cautiously, he opened his eyes again, staring blearily at the stained carpet beneath his feet. The day hadn’t yet begun and already he was bone-tired. He stood up, his shoulders still sore from the fight the week before. The recovery time was longer these days but he didn’t care. He needed somewhere to channel his frustrations and inside the ring suited him just fine. He was fighting again tonight, instructed to take a dive – being paid good money to do it, too. Wearily, he pushed his pride aside one more time. The fact that it had become easier to do these days sat like a lead weight across his aching shoulders.

  Padding across the room in his boxers, he grabbed his sweats and pulled them on. He took the stairs from his apartment down to the street two at a time, breathing through his nose. Running through the deserted streets, cloaked in despair, almost invisible in the dark, he tried to block out the world. The sun had begun to rise by the time he ran back towards his apartment, having come full circle.

  He showered quickly, unable to ignore his battered reflection as he shaved. The skin was still healing over the bridge of his nose and he had a dark bruise around the cut on his cheekbone, the result of last week’s fight.

  “You’re a disgrace,” he mumbled to his scruffy self in the bathroom mirror.

  Changing into his work clothes – faded jeans, checked shirt, padded jacket, work boots – he threw down a cup of strong, black coffee. It did nothing to settle his stomach. Driving to the work site, he cranked the radio up loud in an effort to silence the voices in his head.

  The day passed much like any other. He put in a solid day’s work on site and declined an invitation from his workmates to hit the local bar after their shift ended. Drinking alone was less complicated. One day soon they would stop asking. He had held plenty of jobs just like this and the invitations always dried up eventually. He had nothing to share with any of them – nothing he was proud of, at least. The less they knew about him, the happier he would be to stick around longer.

  That evening, he sat at the tiny table in the dingy apartment that had passed for home over the past few months and ate lukewarm pizza in silence. The light bulb had blown in the living room a couple of days ago but he hadn’t gotten around to replacing it yet. The borrowed light shining through from the small kitchenette gave everything a sombre glow that suited his mood.

  He felt like he was running in circles. Just when he finally felt like he had made progress, that the memory of what happened that night was fading, he would have the nightmare again and everything would come flooding back. At first it frustrated him, but then he realised that this was how it was supposed to be. The guilt he carried around with him like a chain around his neck, belonged there. Sometimes he thought that this was God’s way of punishing him for what he did. Leaving like that was an act of cowardice, and cowards deserved to be punished. He wasn’t an idiot – he knew that he looked for that punishment every time he got into the ring. He was grateful for every punch that found its mark on his body. He deserved it.

  Of course, his father would disagree. Tom seemed certain that forgiveness awaited him – from Ally, from Callum and from everyone else he had left behind. The truth was, as much as he loved his father and appreciated his support and loyalty, he didn’t believe him. Some things were unforgivable.

  Their terms of engagement were crystal clear. Jack kept in contact, Tom didn’t push him for more details than he was willing to offer. Jack appreciated the phone calls as the lifeline they were. He just wished he could allow himself to believe when Tom said that all was not lost.

  Jack found himself staring into Ally’s blue-green eyes, her lips tilting into a seductive smile.

  He blinked, quickly pushing the vision aside. One day, he promised himself, he would go home and apologise in person. But not yet. Four years had passed and he was no more ready to face them now than he was back then. He wasn’t strong enough, and to face up to them after what he had done, he had to be strong.

  He took another swig from his beer bottle and set it down on the table in front of him, staring at it as if it would provide him with answers. He had fantasies about going home, about just turning up on his father’s doorstep out of the blue. He imagined talking to Callum, hearing him say that he understood why he left and that he didn’t blame him for anything. He fantasised about Ally forgiving him,
throwing herself into his arms and everything going back to the way it was.

  But they were just fantasies. The reality was that he would never be able to go home, that Callum would never understand why he left and that Ally would never be able to throw herself into his arms again.

  Sometimes, in the moments just before waking, he almost felt her curled into his body on the bed, her hair tickling his nostrils. He could swear he felt her long, smooth legs entwined with his, his hand curled around hers beneath the pillow.

  And then he woke alone, his arms empty, his bed cold.

  He had taken something from her that she would never be able to get back. As she lay in the ICU that night, he remembered thinking that she looked whole. But she wasn’t. A shattered spinal cord did invisible damage, damage that could never be repaired. She would never walk again and it was his fault. He carried that knowledge around with him like an anchor that simultaneously tied him to her and tore her away from him.

  Questions haunted him, but he was afraid to ask them. He told himself it would be easier if they didn’t talk about her, warning his father that it had to be this way. The delusion was paper-thin. Just because they didn’t talk about her didn’t mean she was far from his mind. He shook off the musings, taking another swig from his bottle. He didn’t deserve to know.

  Staring down at the untouched slice of cold pizza on his plate, he saw his whole life stretched out in front of him. Alone in some grubby little apartment, working a dead-end job miles from home. Throwing himself into harm’s way – tempting fate, but too much of a coward to take matters into his own hands. Working himself to the brink of physical and mental exhaustion, trying to block everything out. How had he ended up here?

  He stood up and stared out the dirt-covered window into the back of the building in front of his. After a few moments, he took what was left of his beer over to the couch and sank into it, the fabric on the arms smooth with the ingrained grease and dirt of previous tenants. His gaze crawled over the faded, peeling wallpaper as he tried to psyche himself up for the fight tonight. He had been instructed to take a dive in the third round, which got under his skin. He knew his opponent, had seen him fight. He was bigger, but he was clumsier too. If he put his mind to it, he could take him, but he had his instructions. Didn’t matter if he could take him or not.