She has whisked those eggs beyond the necessary time frame. If she keeps going, the heat produced from her constant stirring may very well scramble the eggs with no stove necessary.
She stops what she's doing and finally looks up at me for the first time since she started beating the eggs to a liquid disaster. "You know, that's the first time anyone has cared enough to tell me to stay. The only person that knows anything continuously tells me to leave. She doesn't get it and never will. It takes someone that has experienced that kind of love for another to understand. You're going to make a very lucky girl happy. Being loved in that way by another being is an extraordinary thing and it's irreplaceable."
I tap my fingers on top of the bar as I process everything she said. "You're right about everything, but one thing. She's not the lucky one, I am. I don't know what God was thinking when he chose us as soul mates, but forever will I be at his mercy and on my knees in gratitude. When the two of us are together it's like the stars align and our hearts sync together. She's the reason I wake up everyday and the reason I push to be a better man. Eighteen or eighty eight, I'll always feel the same. Having her by my side every day for the rest of my life is the greatest blessing of them all."
I watch as she pours the egg mixture into the hot pan. A small smile begins to form. Every second I waste is another second I don't get to spend with Kinzleigh and I still have another stop to make before I can fly back home. "If it's okay with you, Ma'am, I'll eat and be on my way. I have someone that needs me and I've been away from her long enough. I hope you don't mind, but it's been too long."
"Of course. It's nice to be hopeful for once. Young love is always a motivational tool. My only piece of advice is when life happens don't lose that love you two have for each other. Instead, channel it and let it drive you for more, so when you get my age and look back you love each other more in the present than in the past, instead of the opposite."
"I'll take a mental note. If we make it through the curve balls that we've already been thrown, we'll make it through anything." When I say if, that's what I mean. As I sit here, I remember a very specific catch phrase that Preston said last Christmas. Until there is a ring on her left finger proving she's yours, she can always change her mind.
I grow more nervous with every passing moment. I can't lose her. If I do, I won't survive. I stayed alive for her. If I can't have her, I have nothing to live for.
***
I walk down the busy streets of New York lost in my own head. There was a car waiting in the garage when we went down the private elevator and an envelope that held a large sum of money lying on the seat. I gave the driver a pickup destination once I made the call of confirmation as promised. I just need some space right now and being in the backseat of an enclosed car is not going to do it.
I pull the cell phone from my pocket. I insisted leaving it in Spain, but they wouldn't have it until I was able to get another phone in the states. I have no idea where I'm going, but hopefully the walk and fresh air will help me to clear my head. The only thing ever running through my mind is Kinzleigh. It's either a curse or a blessing, which, I have yet to determine.
I can see what looks like a park ahead. Benches are scattered throughout. When I arrive to the closest one I sit and stare off into the distance. I have no idea what I'm even going to say or do when I get to her. Should I plan it all out or just wing it?
I lay the phone on my lap. Reflexively, I lace my fingers together on top of my head and lean against the back of the bench, looking up at the branches that extend out above me. Speckles of blue peek through the gap between each leaf. The sun shines down in a pattern. "Daddy, I want to fly. Make me fly. I want to be a bird." The pip-squeak sound of the voice catches my attention.
I look out before me and see a family. The woman is blonde and petite, but with a curvy figure similar to Kinzleigh. The man is taller with a muscular build and darker hair. Neither looks older than thirty. The little boy has dirty blonde hair; cut short enough it stands up in the front on its own. He can't be more than five and reminds me of the way I looked as a kid.
The little boy is running toward the man with his hands high in the air. "Please, Daddy. Make me fly. I want to fly like you." The man picks him up with both hands, laying him flat. He begins to run, making him soar through the air. He's holding his arms out like a set of wings. For some reason I can't take my eyes away. His laughter as he flies through the air sends chills down my spine. I begin shaking as I watch the three of them.
I turn my eyes to the blonde and she is standing to the side watching them and clapping her hands as she shouts. "Yay. Look at you go. You're flying so high." The smile on her face is enough to send anyone into a state of nirvana.
Tears sting my eyes. That family should be us. We shouldn't have to go through all this bullshit to be together. I press inward on my eyes to halt the tears from spilling. I just need a fix. I need one dose of the drug I've done without for so long. I need to hear her voice.
I look down at the phone in my lap and pick it up. I pull up the dial screen. One by one, I type in the digits that form her number. I stare at it with my thumb over the call button. I battle with the choice in my head. My heart overpowers my brain and I touch the green button, placing it to my ear.
It rings three times and picks up. I can hear giggling in the background. "Preston, stop. That tickles. Okay, okay, truce." I can hear shuffling in the background for a second. "Hello?"
I can't breathe. The tear I was holding back falls at the sound of her voice. "Hello, who's there?" I can't describe the feeling that I have right now. In every vision over the past six months I've gone over and over in my head the different possibilities of what she could sound like. When my memories came back I thought I knew. The pain in my chest amplifies and triples. "If you're not going to answer then don't call me, creep."
The call disconnects and everything I was holding in breaks free. I cry. It's one of those cries that a man is only entitled to for due cause once or twice in his lifetime. "God, I need her." I'm at my breaking point. I don't know what I was expecting, but hearing her laugh and play with another man was my rock bottom.
I lean forward, placing my forearms on my thighs. Tears drip off the tip of my nose. I'm at an absolute loss. The feeling in my heart and soul is not a good one. I feel like she is slipping away from me; the one thing I never thought could happen. I pull the photo out of my pocket that I brought with me, the one of the two of us on the football field.
Can separation over time make someone fall out of love with another, soul mates or not? A thought occurs to me that didn't occur to me before. What if she chooses him? I continue to stare at the photo. Something is pushing me to keep going regardless.
Keep striving and in due time, you'll see there's reason to every rhyme.
I don't have a clue why, but sorrow and pain turn into jealousy and rage. Fuck him if he thinks he's getting her. I'm going after my family. The sooner I get done here, the sooner I can reclaim what's mine. We're meant to be together and no matter what fire we have to walk through to get there, love conquers all. Abercrombie boys don't back down and we sure as hell don't go down without a fight. One of us is going to lose and when it comes to Kinzleigh Baker, it isn't going to be me. Let the games begin.
Chapter 26
Breyson
I shuffle through countless emails as I search for the one I'm looking for. I sit in the back seat of the car I've been provided, to utilize for as long as I need. One more stop and I'll be free and homebound. If I play my cards right I should be landing by tonight. The shock of what all has happened is starting to subside and I feel drained.
Email after email, I look for the only one of my concern. I finally find it and open the email from the folder it's in. I'm not sure that I'm emotionally prepared to witness this from the outside looking in. Either way, it has to be done. Tapping the file, I wait for the clip to load.
I sit with my back against the seat and my feet pressed firmly on
the floor of the car. The video clip begins to play back. With each second that I watch, the memories get stronger in my mind than they were before I got on the plane from Spain. I want to turn it off, but I can't. I want to see what Kinzleigh saw.
The one thing I didn't consider when I recorded and sent it was her anxiety. It almost makes me feel guilty knowing I put her through that. I put her through that while she was pregnant with my child. It still hasn't completely registered that I'm going to be a father this young. I guess I really do get careless when it comes to her. I wonder if it's a boy or a girl and who it'll look like. I hope her.
The video ends and I feel weak and nauseated. I have no idea why I made it out alive when so many people lost their lives. I should have died along with them. I don't see how it was fair, but I guess it's not my place to question it either. I've always been taught that everything happens for a reason whether good or bad. There is nothing you can do to change that.
I give myself a moment to gather myself mentally before watching the second video. Pressing the play button I immerse myself as it plays through. Watching it a second time is so much more brutal than witnessing it firsthand. I'm not sure if it's because, at the time, I didn't know Kinzleigh was pregnant and now I do, but my heart feels like it's being ripped from my chest cavity as she speaks to her daughter.
No young child should be left behind without parents. It's an unnatural and unfair part of life, another part of the ugly in the world. In my book, it's no different than a parent having to bury a child. No one should have to go through that shit, especially when there are so many bad people in the world that deserve to die. It ends at the same time a road sign labeled Silent Knight Lane comes into view.
It's time to do this. I just hope I don't cause any added stress on someone. The car pulls in the driveway with the correct number and stops in front of the garage. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can be on your way home.
I don't wait for the driver to exit before I open the door and get out. I walk down the sideway to the entryway. Once I arrive at the door, it opens and a woman is standing on the other side. As I take in her features it hits an emotional barrier that I built on the way over like a wrecking ball, breaking it down. She looks just like the girl in the video clip, only older. "Can I help you?"
I place my hands in the pockets of my shorts. "Are you Helen Spiers?"
She looks around as if someone is going to pop out of the bushes with a camera. "Who wants to know?"
"My name is Breyson Abercrombie. I was in the plane crash with your daughter, Cheyenne. I have something for you and for Callea." I'm almost afraid to speak in a loud voice due to worry I'm going to send her into cardiac arrest.
Her eyes immediately pool with tears and begin to fall one after the other. This emotion used to freak me out, but now it's become an almost constant state of mind. She swipes the tears and moves to the side, allowing me to enter her home. "Please excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting company. You know how a toddler can be I'm sure." She tries to hide her sorrow with a laugh, but it's strained.
I stand inside the foyer as she closes the door. Toys are scattered from one end to the other and the house is quiet. The toddler in question seems to be absent from this picture. She starts picking up toys, filling her arms, but I touch her shoulder lightly to stop her. "Please don't do that on my account. It really doesn't bother me. I'm only here because I made a promise to someone."
She leaves them in a pile and stands. The hurt in her eyes is enough to bring a grown man to his knees. I can only imagine what she must feel like, what my parents must feel like, or any parent losing a child must feel like. I can imagine a person would never be the same after that. I saw that first hand with Cheyenne and the soulless creature that died with blood stained hands.
I haven't even met my child yet and the thought that something could have happened when Kinzleigh was hit by a car makes my blood run cold. The only reason I haven't thought about it is because of the recent photo I got in the package from Mr. P. showing she was still pregnant and her belly was rounded to almost a fully pregnant state.
"Follow me to the sitting room." She walks forward and I follow behind, taking in the portraits hanging on the wall. They are all of Cheyenne at different stages of life. The only thing that is off from the way I saw her is the smiles present on her face in every photo. She is glowing in every picture, especially the last one. She's lying in a hospital bed holding a baby with a large grin stretched from ear to ear.
The man beside her looks nothing like the man that was the cause of her death. He is holding the baby's small hand with his index finger and staring at her with so much love it's clearly evident. They say misery loves company and in their case I guess it's true.
I didn't realize I had stopped to stare until she appears behind me. "That was the happiest day of her life. She loved that baby and would've died for her. I'm proud of her." She strains to get each word voiced aloud.
I answer with the phrase that I know she will understand without having to drive the details of that day into her mind. "I know, I witnessed it." She gasps and searches my eyes with her own. "You have every right to be proud."
Additional tears fall from the corners of her eyes. The funny thing about tears, I've discovered, is that when they are shed, a part of you feels better. There is something about that liquid, salty goodness that relieves the heart and soul from the burdens of pain they carry from time to time. Some may think that they are a form of weakness, including me at one time, but that's not the case at all. It takes a strong person to allow that much emotion to roam freely, because the overflow of its abundance is a lot to bear.
I allow her to lead me into the sitting room and sit across from her on the love seat. She stares blankly across the room. "I need to tell you why I'm here." She comes back into present time and I continue. "The night of the crash we knew we were going to die. I need you to know that Cheyenne did not die in vain. She's a heroine. She sacrificed herself hoping to spare a life; lives. She sacrificed herself to protect her daughter from a dangerous man. In the short time I knew her it was clear how much she loved her. It was evident she realized it was never going to stop and made a decision to end it all before more people got hurt. I don't know why God decided to spare me while the rest of them died, but to spare one life is the greatest honor a person can die with. I'll do everything in my power to ensure the world knows what really happened that night."
I can tell I've resurfaced emotions she's worked hard to hide, most likely trying to be strong for a little girl that doesn't understand. I continue to finish what I started. "Cheyenne only had one request; to say a goodbye and make sure that I got it to you should I make it out alive. It's taken me a while to get here, but I made it." Pulling the phone from my pocket, I ready the file for playback and hand it to her. She takes it and stares at it for a moment before mashing play. I listen to the audio as she watches the clip. It doesn't get any easier to hear the third time around. She begins crying hysterically as it plays on. It takes everything in me to bar the tears that are trying to force their way out, as I witness her watch her daughter say goodbye in the last moments of her life. Watching her mourn the loss of her child is by far one of the hardest things I've had to do in my eighteen years of life.
Not knowing what else to do, I stand and walk over to her. As the video ends she drops the phone to the floor and covers her face with her hands as she sobs uncontrollably. I have a strong feeling that she's been holding this in since she was notified of the accident. Sitting down next to her I wrap my arms around her. She is small compared to my muscular frame, allowing me to envelop her easily. She doesn't pull away as she continues to release the pent up anger and sadness that has been held captive inside her.
I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here holding her, but the small footsteps and voice in the background captures my attention. "Nana, why are you crying?" I release her from my hold and look over to the little girl standing in the
doorway. She's rubbing her eyes; making it obvious she just woke up from a nap.
My eyes lock on her; memorizing her. She has long brown hair that falls just below her shoulders. It's mostly straight, but her baby curls at the ends are still present. Her skin is smooth, but kissed by the sun creating a bronze hue. She looks like an even mix of her parents, but her blue eyes are big and the focal feature of her face. She's holding a rag doll that is half her size. The way she talks I would guess she's already turned three.
Cheyenne's mom begins wiping her face with the collar of her shirt, trying to erase the evidence of her breakdown. "Sometimes grownups get sad too. Come here, Callea." The little girl begins walking toward the sofa clenching tight onto her doll. It looks old and ratty, but she is holding it tight to her little body. If I had to guess, it was Cheyenne's.
She stops in front of me as if she is puzzling something together in her tiny mind. "Did my mommy send you?"
I put my finger in my ear and wiggle it. Obviously, I'm hearing things. "What did you say?"
"Did my mommy send you from Heaven? She went to live in Heaven for a little while, but I have to stay with Nana until I get big. I can't go there yet." The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Your mommy did send me, but I haven't been to Heaven. Did your nana tell you about Heaven?" I have no idea what the reaction of Cheyenne's mom is to all of this, because I can't look away from the big, bright eyes in front of me.
She walks closer and raises her arms, including the doll, for me to pick her up. I place my hands underneath her arms, lifting her, and place her on my lap. "Nana told me that mommy went to live with Jesus in Heaven, but sometimes when I go to sleep Mommy visits me. She said a nice man was coming to see Nana, but to keep it a secret until he comes."
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