Knelt alone in the sanctity of the place, through tear drenched eyes she had stared up at the cross on the wall with her hands clasped tight together and begged God to spare her son and to take her in his place. He was so young and did not deserve the pain his body suffered. She would willingly and gladly swap places with him.
With nothing more that the hospital could do, Adam had been allowed to return home and all resemblance to her life before vanished. Every minute of her day was consumed by Adam and his needs.
In less than six months Adam had returned to the hospital for the last time. The drugs no longer worked and the doctors could do no more but to help control his pain. It was simply a matter of time.
Unable to except the inevitable truth, she had continued to act as normal. Never leaving his bedside she became a permanent fixture in his hospital room except for the two hours each day in which his father came to visit at the end of a long day’s work. During those short intervals of respite she would spend the time alone in the chapel praying for a miracle that was never to come.
Less than a week later while reading Adam his bedtime story he had reached across and took her hand in his frail little palm, his big blue eyes lovingly staring up at her. “Mummy I want to go now, I need to be with the angels.”
The shock of his revelation slammed through her body and a voice inside her head had screamed in an agony of despair; not yet! It can’t be yet! I’m not ready. Too soon! It’s too soon!
Gazing lovingly at her son all the pain of losing her parents rushed back to engulf her, drowning her in a myriad of panic. The unbearable thought of not seeing or being able to touch and hold Adam every day threatened to tear her sanity apart. Fighting for enough breath to form the words that were so abhorrent to her conscious mind she asked, “are you sure you’re ready my precious?” Stroking his hair she had placed a light kiss on his forehead, fighting back the tears that had welled in her eyes, tears that threatened to spill over her lashes and escape down her cheeks.
As if unaware of the severity of what he proposed Adam had silently contemplated before nodding solemnly. “I am, but I don’t want to leave you. I hear you crying when you think I’m asleep and it makes me really sad. I don’t want you to be lonely when I’m gone.”
Coughing to stifle the sob that threatened to escape from between her lips, she had for the first time in months taken a really long look at her son. His weakened frail body, ravaged by not only the harsh unrelenting disease that consumed it but also by the treatment they’d used to prolong his life was just simply unable to take anymore.
“You do what you need to my angel.” She had whispered reassuringly, “Mummy will be just fine and I promise you, I won’t cry.” Kissing his forehead she’d sat back in her chair clasping his hand to her lips.
“I love you so very much my sweetheart,” she’d whispered.
“I love you too mummy,” had come his sweet reply, his eyes shining with a wisdom far older than his few short years. Closing his eyes, his brow had relaxed from the pain that had become his life and slowly but surely he had fallen into a peaceful sleep.
Unable to move for fear of taking her eyes off her son she had sat perfectly still until an hour before dawn when the machines attached to his tiny sleeping form had begun bleeping in a unified chorus, deafening to her ears.
At the sound of the alarm a host of medical staff had come rushing through the door. Gently prying her hand from his the doctor and nurses had professionally and respectfully gone about their duties, completing all the necessary checks before solemnly removing the machines, offering their condolences and finally leaving her alone to grieve for her dead son.
Taking several deep breaths, she had stood. Gently gliding her hands across the sheet covering her child’s fragile body, she had smoothed out creases that didn’t exist still desperate with need to care for her son even in death. Lovingly gliding the back of her hand across his soft, delicate cheek she had lent forward and rested her forehead against his. Closing her eyes that was how she had remained, inhaling his scent with each deep breath that she took. Steadying herself after a period of time she had opened her eyes and gazed down at his sweet and peaceful expression, knowing in her heart that whatever pain she now needed to endure, she had irrefutably done the right thing by letting him go. Adams soul had finally found peace.
Gently and tenderly her hands cupped his face and she kissed her sons lips knowing it would be for the last time. Then, sitting back in her chair she had, with a calm detachment, stared endlessly at the body of the only child she would ever know.
Some point after, Alistair had come rushing through the door his hair and clothes dishevelled, revealing the earliness of the hour and the mad despair that had caused such a rapid arrival. At the sight of his dead son he had dropped to his knees burying his face in Adam’s lifeless hand and sobbed uncontrollably. Even with his emotional display she had remained calm and detached; safely ensconced behind her impenetrable barriers. She had made a promise to her son the actions of which left her incapable of offering solace or comfort. Instead all she could do was coldly sit and stare at the pain and heartache that had engulfed her husband.
Several hours later Alistair had driven her in silence back to the apartment above her parent’s old studio. After the breakdown of their marriage she had moved back into the empty building decorating her old room for Adam and making her parents’ room her own. With great reluctance and heaps of uncertainty Alistair finally agreed to leave her alone after a great deal of reassurance on her part that she would be just fine. In a detached daze she’d began tidying things away, passing the time by catching up with neglected chores until in a moment of thoughtlessness she had walked into Adam’s room. A room so empowered with his presence that it struck her with such overwhelming force, it stole her breath away. Unable to stop herself she had curled up on her son’s bed. Burying her face into his pillow and inhaling deeply, his familiar scent had filled her senses.
Her breath had become more erratic and sucking back huge gulps of air she had fought against the swelling lump that constricted her airway. She had felt the instant the walls of her sanity began crumbling, collapsing in on themselves like a falling tower of cards until, without warning, a deep feral cry of pain began to resonate in her throat, building in intensity until it erupted into a wailing scream of unparalleled agony. A torrent of tears had ensued, the emptiness they left in their wake threatening to consume her very soul.
No pain had ever felt so harsh; no wound had ever cut so deep.
Unable to fight or defend herself against such saturation of despair she had relented giving herself up wholly and completely to her grief. That night, as she had knelt to pray, she had begged and pleaded with God to take her life and end the burning agony that was tearing her soul apart, but it was to no avail.
The following afternoon, drained to her very core with eyes swollen to mere slits and her throat hoarse, she had dragged her tired, lifeless body to the door and allow Alistair in.
Black circles under eyes that were as swollen as hers conveyed to her that he had suffered as much as she since their parting the previous day. Drinking the coffee he’d prepared she had absently listened as he’d talked through his wishes for the funeral. But as he’d continued to speak her thoughts had drifted into a world of their own where memories of her parents’ funeral came flooding back. Her wall of ice, complete detachment and total emotional lockdown; all of which had helped numb the pain.
She’d continued to stare at Alistair’s moving lips but had heard no words as slowly and methodically her mind had rushed headlong into resurrecting the barriers once more. Taking a deep and calming breath she had felt all the pain and agony drain away until finally, all that was left was an empty void and all that she felt was …nothing!
The day of Adam’s funeral had arrived. Taking Alistair’s arm, grateful for the support, he had guided her motions, leading them in to the church behind the small white coffin that held her precious
boy. The angelic sound of the choir had filled the interior as the coffin was gently presented before the altar. After the service the coffin had been laid to rest. Friends and fellow church goers had stood beside them at the grave side. This time it was Alistair that had clung to her weeping as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.
But as she had stood emotionless beside him on the cold damp earth staring down into the shadowed hole at her son’s coffin she had found nothing that resembled evidence of her child. Her son had been warm and loving, caring and kind right till the very end. The dank space before her that now engulfed the tiny wooden shell held nothing of Adam.
Amid gasps of shock she had unceremoniously turned her back on the grave and returned to the church.
Sitting alone in the silence, she had stared up at the stained glass window depicting heaven and the angels shrouded in God’s shining light, and once more she had begged God to take her life and reunite her with her son. But this time, as the words fell from her lips, she had heard a voice reply.
Not yet!
The voice had sounded as loud and as clear as if that person had been sat right next to her. Confused and uncertain she’d left the church that day wondering as to whether she was losing her very mind. The following day she had returned and every day after for the next two years, each time repeating the same question. And every day, since the first she had received the exact same reply.
Not yet!
The two years had passed slowly. Her mundane secretarial job had filled her days, church and an extreme exercise routine had filled her evenings. So much so that her body tired and exhausted, would eventually succumb to sleep on a mattress in the corner of the studio, forgoing the comforts of an apartment that had too many memories to bear. The studio was equipped with showers and a kitchen so with the mattress to sleep on and the exercise equipment to train with she had everything her empty life required.
A loud blast from a horn sounded abruptly behind her, snapping her back to the present. Watching the vehicle until it disappeared from sight Darla turned back around to the task at hand, sweeping her surroundings with one last look. Across the river the lights of the city sparkled and shone, the only home she had ever known, yet now it held no ties.
Tonight she’d returned to the church as she had every night before, but finally after two years of asking the same question over and over………this time the reply had been different. Tonight there had been nothing! Not a single sound. No heavenly voice telling her ‘not yet’, just an echoing silence as her reply.
With a mixture of disbelief and unerring relief, she had silently wept, knowing instinctively what it had meant.
God had finally given his consent.
Leaving the church she knew without any doubt that there was nothing left in the city for her. Only one remaining task needed her attention, one last small loose end to tie up.
Making her way towards Alistair’s she had felt an overwhelming need to stay goodbye to the only living person whom she still loved. He had been a good friend during the last two years and a kind and loving husband before that. And although having met someone new, he’d never failed to check in on her at least once a week making sure she was still coping in what had become her own way.
Heading down the path towards his house she had caught a glimpse through the window of Alistair and a woman sat intimately together on the sofa. Having met his new partner, Monique on several occasions she had to admit that they made a wonderful couple.
Drawing closer to the door it had been impossible for her to miss the moment that Monique had stood. With eyes only for Alistair, Monique had not noticed the silent observer that stared at them through the window. And yet for Darla it was there in all its glory, the most likely reason why Alistair had phoned her that day insisting on them meeting for lunch on the following. From the size of Monique’s swollen abdomen she had to be at least six months pregnant.
Turning away from the house she had felt a wave of relief wash over her, knowing that the only other person she had ever loved would be fine after she was gone. With her mind set and peace in her heart Darla knew instinctively in which direction she was heading.
And now with all thoughts pushed aside the time was finally upon her. Knowing what awaited her; she couldn’t help but feel as though every event in her life had guided her one step closer to the bridge. Effortlessly climbing up on to the railings she realised there was no sadness in her heart, no regret, just an aching need to be with her son and put closure to a life that no longer had purpose.
Looking ahead at the bright lights of the city she felt no hesitation what-so-ever as she released her hold on the bridge. Taking a deep cleansing breath she relaxed her body and lent forward allowing gravity to do the rest. As she fell the world almost seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she finally felt at peace.
In the darkness she watched with calm resignation as the churning waters below rushed to embrace her into the cold murky depths of her watery grave. A serene smile crossed her face and as she closed her eyes the whispered name of her son was lost to the wind.
CHAPTER TWO
A loud crackling sound reverberated in Darla’s ears resembling the onset of thunder. Her nerve receptors tingled with energy as blinding light engulfed her. Unable to force her eyes to open, she felt a sudden increase in weightlessness, the sensation distorting her senses as her body continued to spiral further and further down. The surrounding air heated around her as the noise increased in intensity. Reaching out she waited in anxious anticipation for the water to rush up and engulf her, crushing the life from her fragile body, yet still she continued to fall.
An unexpected sweeping breeze suddenly caressed her skin, cooling the stifling air that cocooned her, and for a moment Darla almost believed she had felt the soft brush of feathers. But how could that be?
The blinding light suddenly died and without warning her body hit solid ground, the brutal force of the impact expelling the breath from her lungs in a rapid gush of air.
Confused and disorientated she took a few deep breaths, replenishing that what had been lost before making any attempt to move. Her skin was still tingling with energy and her eyes hurt as she attempted to open them. Her head was pounding and an intense buzzing noise filled both ears. Blinking rapidly she tried once again to open her eyes, this time with success. Moving her hand before her face Darla struggled to clear the haze that obscured her vision. Several more blinks and finally her eyesight focused more clearly.
Rolling onto her side, she found herself lying on solid ground, with tiny sharp stones digging into her already sensitive skin. Gazing around at her surroundings she raised her hand shielding her sensitive eyes from the intensity of the bright light of day.
Where the hell was the river? Could this possibly be heaven and if so where was Adam? Surely he should be there to greet her!
Rising up on to her knees she braced herself as a wave of sickness wrenched at her stomach causing beads of sweat to break out on her forehead. The view before her blurred once again and her head spun. Closing her eyes tightly against the nauseating sensation she inhaled deeply once, twice before trying again.
This time around her vision cleared on the second blink; Doing a quick 180 scan of her surroundings Darla was left feeling more confused than ever. It was perfectly clear that she was knelt alone in the middle of what could only be described as a desolate barren wasteland with no visible signs of life anywhere. No birds, no trees, not even a single blade of grass could be seen. Looking behind she could see rough terrain made up of large boulders and rocks and far off in the distance was a ridge of dark shadows. Possibly mountains she thought. Beyond that everything else was just barren land pebbled with an array of rocks and stones.
Darla shook her head the buzzing in her ears still strangely affecting her balance at each attempt she made at moving. Shielding her eyes yet again she wondered at how it could be daylight already. It had been evening time when she had arrived at
the bridge and not all that long after the sun had set when she had finally jumped. Clearly hours hadn’t passed since that moment and she was almost certain that she had not lost consciousness and yet here she was shielding from the bright light of mid-day sun.
Except there was no sun!
The bright sky above was instead replaced by an amazing swirling hue of pale pinks and subtle mauves sprinkled with dark grey clouds that were under constant attack from fleeting streaks of lightning that leapt and danced between them.
This has to be heaven. Perhaps that was how it all worked. When you died you never really felt yourself die because then you would just be dead. Feasible scenario wasn’t it?
Lost in her musings Darla jumped at the feel of something touching her shoulder. Hastily twisting to discover the source, she gasped in surprise at the tall shadow that now blocked the light.
A person, how is that even possible?
No vehicle was visible. The desert plateau where she knelt was vast and barren, surely impossible for anyone to approach undetected.
Her eyes studied the figure before her, which on further inspection was clearly male and from the rapid movement of his lips he was obviously trying to speak to her but with that damn buzzing drowning out all other sounds she was unable to hear. Frowning in frustration and still feeling confused her only response was to stare back at him whilst shaking her head.
Seemingly annoyed by her response the man squatted down bringing himself almost level to her line of sight. Momentarily taken back she couldn’t help but stare. The strangers perfectly chiselled jaw line supported a strong chin sensuously marked with a central crease. His ample mouth with well-defined lips was surrounded by the dark shadow of an overdue shave. Dark brown eyes warmed by a liberal sprinkling of golden flecks topped off an overall appearance that would never strictly be referred to as handsome and yet it this man walked into a room there was no doubt in Darla’s mind that women would sit up and pay attention.
Redemption - A Darla Gray Novel Page 2