Losing Faith (Surfers Way) (26 page)

“I’m sorry,” she says to the ground, watching her feet with each step on the tiled floor as her son chaperones her out of sight.

My dad turns and wraps his arms around me. “Ignore dat woman, Peppi. She’s just angry at the world.”

“I know, Dad,” I say, but I can’t ignore the fact that she is the one responsible for what’s happening to my mother.

Dad doesn’t say anything for the longest time—he just holds me. Wetness seeps into the fabric on my shoulder where his head rests.

“She’s tough, Dad.”

“She ’as to be,” he whispers.

We stand for a while longer until a set of strong hands curl over my shoulders.
Quade.

“I think someone’s here to speak with you,” he says in a raspy voice.

I look to Quade and follow his gaze, which is set on a tall man with silvery slicked-back hair. The man tucks something into the pocket of his white coat as he approaches.

“Marone?” he says, looking between Dad and I, still locked in each other’s arms.

“Yes,” Dad chokes out and offers his hand to the man. The doctor shakes it and clears his throat. “There’s a problem with Maree’s heart. She had a mild heart attack as a result,” he offers.

That can’t be right. Mum has never mentioned anything about a heart problem. My mother is fit as anything. She’s always taking Charlie for walks, eating right.

“What you mean?” Dad says, eyeing off the chart at the doctor’s side.

“Can we see her?” I ask in a high-pitched tone before the doctor can respond.

“I’m afraid not yet. We conducted some tests and just received her blood results. We know what the issue is. We’re rushing her into surgery now.”

“Surgery?” my father whines and plonks down onto the bench beside us.

The man places his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Yes. This isn’t easy to say, but you may want to contact other family members. We’re hoping she pulls through, but you need to prepare yourself … in the event she doesn’t.”

I gasp and cover my mouth. This … this can’t be happening.

My tummy muscles spasm, twisting and churning inside me. Bile burns its way up my throat.
Oh God
. I scramble to a nearby bin and empty the contents of my stomach.

A warm hand settles between my shoulder blades and moves in slow circles. The other hand sweeps hair from my face. “You okay?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“I need to call my brother,” I say and clear my throat, spitting the excess saliva from my mouth. What if she … what if he never gets to say goodbye?

Tears burst from my eyes, flooding down my face. “He needs to be here. We all need to be together.”

I straighten up and wipe the side of my mouth. Quade wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Come and freshen up and then we’ll call him.”

I turn to look for my father, finding him on the waiting bench, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes are glassy, yet his focus is unwavering from the double doors to emergency.

I crouch down in front of him, looking up into his dark eyes. “You okay for a sec, Dad?” I ask.

“I’ll be right ’ere,” he mumbles.

The crack in his voice and the defeat splashed over his face are heartbreaking.

---

“Ricky, it’s Lace,” I choke out after he grumbles “hi” into the phone.

“Hey, Sis,” he drawls.

Quade squeezes my hand in his and gives me a nod.

“You need to pack your shit and get home on the next flight.”
Breathe
. “We’re at the hospital. It’s Mum—”

“Shit, what’s happened?” he says, alarm in his words.

“Something’s wrong with her heart … she’s in surgery, but …”
It’s serious enough for me to be telling you to get here before it’s too late …

“Oh fuck.” Something scrambles in the background. “Are you okay? How’s Dad holding up?”

“We’re in shock, I guess. Dad seems way too calm. Me, I’m the basket case. Thank God Quade is here.”

Quade squeezes my hand in his.
My saviour.
He probably saved me from storming the nurse’s station on arrival and assaulting his mother.

“Just take care of each other and keep me updated. I wanna know everything.”

“As soon as I know more, I’ll call you.”

“Good. I’ll ring the airline and change my ticket dates and call you back when it’s done.”

“What do you mean you’ll change the dates?”

“I booked my flight home last week. It was gonna be a surprise. I was gonna give Mum what she’d hounded me for for two whole years. Having me home for Christmas.” He sniffs and then huffs out a heavy breath. “Shit,” he says in a gruff voice.

Don’t cry, Rick. If you lose your shit, so will I
. I’ve gotta be strong for Dad, for Mum—for all of us.

“She’ll love that,” I tell him as I close my eyes and hope to God that Mum makes it. Christmas will never be the same without her.
Nothing
will be the same without her.

“What about Josefine?” I say, changing the topic. “Is she coming too?”

“Safe to say Josefine and I won’t be spending any more time together.”

I don’t miss the coldness in his voice. “What happened?”

“Things went to hell in a hand-basket, is what happened. I’ve been packing up my shit, her shit … I would’ve come home earlier, but guess I’ve been trying to better prepare myself for all the I-told-you-so’s.”

“I’m sorry, Rick.” Whatever happened, that totally sucks. I know he was really invested in their relationship. Two years of his life with her, and now they’re over?

“Don’t be, Lace. You can kick my arse when I get home for being such a dumbarse when it comes to picking the wrong girl.”

Another hint as to why they broke up.

My brother and I say our goodbyes. He tells me he loves me, something he hasn’t done in years. Of course I tell him I love him back. Regardless of whether he’s been a giant pain in my arse since I was a kid, he’s my big brother. He’s a part of me.

After a long hug with Quade, the two of us return to the waiting room. I just needed a moment to get myself together. Dad doesn’t need to see me falling apart at the seams.

When we get there, Dad is like a garden statue, still in the same position we left him. I snuggle into his side, wrapping my arm around his lower back and kissing the greyed hair at his temple.

“I rang Marco,” he says in a soft voice. “I couldn’t tell ’im. I ’ung up.”

“Shit. I can do that, Dad.”
Whatever I can to take the load off you
.

“After I ’ung up, I tought I’d try your Nonna. I couldn’t even dial ’er number. I was tinking da words … but dey wouldn’t come out, Peppi. If I say it, it makes it real.”

“I’ll make the calls.”

He places his hand on my knee. “Just wait ’til we ’ave an update, okay?” His bloodshot eyes beg me to hold off. So I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to support him in this situation.

“Okay, Dad. I’ll wait.”

---

My neck is stiff from the angle I’ve perched myself in for God knows how long. The last report we had seemed like forever ago, when they told us she was still in surgery. I sit up straight and stretch my arms over my head.

I check my phone, and see there’s a message from Ricky:

Ricky: Flights sorted. Be there Wednesday after lunch. Tell Mum to hang in there xox

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved that my brother is on his way. The problem is, what will he be walking in to?

I look for Dad in the surrounding chairs, but instead find him pacing in front of the double doors. I don’t have the heart to tell him to sit down. I know he’s doing what he needs to do to get through this. If that involves wearing himself out walking back and forth, then I’m not going to stand in his way.

I watch as he takes each step, hyper-aware of the worry coming off him in spades.

A warm set of lips plant themselves on my forehead, leaving a soft kiss on my skin. Quade wraps his arm around me, bringing my head to rest on his shoulder.

“Do you think your dad is okay?” Quade asks, pointing to my father who continues to plant one foot in front of the other.

“I don’t know,” I say, because well, I have no clue. There are only two ways this could go …

I look up into Quade’s tired blue eyes. He looks exhausted. He literally dropped everything today and brought us to the hospital. He’s been here for me, for our family. He’s a beautiful, beautiful man.

“Thank you for being here, Quade. It means the world.”

He nods, and kisses me softly on the lips. “Your family is my family, Lace. This is just another mountain to climb. We’re climbing it together.” Quade reaches on the other side of him and brings back a cushion. He positions it on his lap and pats it. “Get some sleep, huh?”

“I’m not tired,” I lie.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Lace. I love you, but you look like shit.”

I snort. “I adore your honesty.”

“Just close your eyes. Try and rest. I promise as soon as anyone comes in, I’ll wake you.”

I let out a worried breath and nestle against the pillow on his lap, curling my legs up underneath me on the bench. Quade teases his fingers through my locks, smoothing stray hairs from my face. In slow strokes his fingertips run gently over my forehead, as if trying to soothe the worry away.

Tears glide down my cheeks as I watch on in helplessness as my father continues to pace. Each cruel step just adds to the breaking of my heart.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper.

Another kiss to my temple. Quade slips his hand into mine. I weave my fingers amongst his and hold tight.

I close my eyes.

Another kiss.

As the tears seep from my eyes I have to try so hard not to imagine a world without her. A world where my father’s will to live will be crushed. A world where my heart will be decimated.
She’s too young. We can’t lose her.

I think about the times she nagged me to clean my room. Tried to get me to take driving lessons again. When she begged me on my nineteen and twentieth birthday to let her and dad mark the occasion. When I shut her down and told her no. On my twenty-first when I finally relented, saw sense, and let my mum celebrate my birthday.

Why did I have to be so stubborn all those times? Why did I steal the memories from her that she could have had? Why didn’t I listen?

Why didn’t I tell her more often that I loved her?

Why? Why?
Why?

My shoulders jerk.

“Lace, wake up,” a deep voice croons close to my ear.

“Mum … I’m sorry.” My tongue seems to swallow my words as my eyes focus on my father. His feet are planted to the spot in front of the door, his back to us.

The tall man is back. This time he’s in blue scrubs, just like Mum wears.
Just like she wore.

Oh God.

“Mr Marone,” the man says.

I sit up. Quade helps me stand, my legs weak. My feet move as if I’m wearing lead boots as we make our way to my father’s side.

“I have some news,” the man says, looking between the three of us.

Please let it be good.

“I have news,” he repeats, placing his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Good news. The surgery went to plan. Maree is going to be okay.”

“Tank de Lord Jesus,” Dad says, screwing his eyes shut and making the sign of the cross with his hand from his head down to his heart, and then across from one shoulder to the other in a horizontal line. It’s the single most religious thing I’ve ever heard him say or see him do. I feel like singing hallelujah myself.

“As we mentioned before, Maree suffered a very mild heart attack. We inserted a cardioverter defibrillator just below her collarbone. Simply put, the device will help regulate the electrical problems with the heart which caused her to faint and subsequently go into cardiac arrest.”

“Is dis someting common? Inserting a, a ding?” Dad asks.

“Mr Marone, your wife is at a high risk of cardiac arrest due to ventricular arrhythmia or what we call VT. Maree is extremely lucky that she was at work and had a colleague notice that she wasn’t acting like her usual self. I think coming out of it with a very mild heart attack is a lot more favourable outcome than what could have happened should she have been at home in Runaway.”

Dear God. We could have lost her?

“Mum never said anything about her heart. I mean, she eats healthy, exercises,” I offer. “I just don’t understand how she could have a problem like this.”

“Dear, VT happens to seemingly healthy people more than you know.”

“When can we see ’er?” Dad says in a croaky voice.

“She’s in intensive care for the moment. I promise you’ll be seeing her at the first opportunity.”

---

I smell coffee. Cheap-arse instant coffee.
Where in the hell am I?

I pry open my eyelids and am met with stark-white surroundings. Black spots prickle my vision as I bolt upright from the bench.

“Whoa, slow down there,” Quade says, his hands gripping my upper arms and stopping me from face-planting onto the floor.

“What time is it?” I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“About eight, I think,” he says and sips the liquid, which I’m certain from his scowl is as putrid as it smells.

“Don’t you need to get to work?” I ask, feeling bad that Ms Riley won’t be too impressed by his absence.

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’ve called the school. They’ll get a relief teacher in to cover.”

My shoulders drop with relief that he’ll still be here. “Are you sure?”

Quade kisses my forehead, his lips lingering the second time so that his mouth leaves an imprint on my skin. “Not going anywhere, Lace. I’m here for you and your family.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. I look towards the doors, noting Dad isn’t in his usual pacing spot. “Where’s Dad?” I ask, scaling the room for any sign of him.

“He just went to freshen up. The nurse came out a few minutes ago and told him we should be able to see your mum soon.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Ten minutes later, Dad, Quade and I are led through a maze of hallways. My heart beats out of control in my chest with each step closer to her.
She’s going to be fine.

“You’re still on shift, Fran,” Dad says to the nurse guiding us. She’s the same one who was on at the nurse’s station when we arrived in a panic yesterday.

“I finished hours ago, but wanted to stick around and make sure this lovely lady was on the improve.” Fran swooshes back a thin grey curtain, and there she is. Pale, bad hair, no makeup, but she looks nothing but beautiful to me. Especially with that giant-sized smile that’s spread across her face.

Dad rushes to her side and wraps his arms around her, but he’s gentle, as if he she’s a rose and he’s afraid to bruise the petals. Next is my turn for hugs, and then Quade gets his fair share too. Actually, I’m pretty sure she hugged him longer than me. I didn’t catch what she whispered to him while he was trapped in her arms. Whatever it was had Quade smiling and a hint of pink on his cheeks afterwards.
Must dig for information later
.

Fran picks up the chart and marks the paper with a pen.

“Maree will be with us for at least the next few days so we can make sure the device is working well. The area where we made the incision will experience some swelling and tenderness. She won’t be able to drive for a week or so, and definitely no high-impact activities or heavy lifting for at least a month.”

“Hear that, Mum? No battling to bath Charlie, okay?” I tell her with a shake of my index finger.

“Okay, sweetie. No more doggy baths. Can’t say I enjoy them much anyhow,” she says with a wink.

“She’ll need regular check-ups with her GP, but you can be rest assured that there are plenty of people on staff here who will make sure she’s getting the best treatment possible.”

“Thanks, Fran,” Dad says, and hugs the woman.

She returns the hug, chuckling. “I’ll leave you all to catch up then, but in half an hour she’ll need some rest.”

For the next half an hour there’s barely a gap in the conversation.

When Fran gives us a five-minute warning, I remember to tell Mum and Dad that Ricky is coming home. Mum loses it and bursts into tears. She doesn’t get emotional about nearly leaving this world and passing onto the next too soon, but the thought of seeing her son after two years is too much. I’d hate to see how much snot will come out of her when he finally arrives tomorrow.

The three of us return to the waiting room.

“Tank you for being ’ere, Quade, but you should get back ’ome. Tings are okay ’ere now.”

“Are you sure?” Quade says, looking between me and my father with a deep V formed between his brows.

Dad places his hand on Quade’s shoulder. “Yes. I can’t tank you enough for being ’ere … for us.”

“Anytime. Really. I’m just stoked everything turned out well.”

Dad shakes Quade’s hand and then pulls him into a hug. I give Quade a hug and thank him for coming.

“You need to go with ’im, Peppi,” Dad says, drilling me with a look that warns me not to talk back.

“But Dad, I—”

“Please take ’er wit you,” he orders Quade.

“I need to be here, Dad,” I blurt out before he cuts me off again.

“Peppi, dere’s noting you can do. I need you to check in wit Marco and see ’ow dey are doing. Can you do dat for me?”

I huff out loudly through my nose. “Okay, Dad. Whatever you need. But ring me if anything changes.
Anything
.”

“I will,” he says with a kiss to my cheek.

Lily is puffed when she answers the phone, but assures me they are doing fine. The relief on Dad’s face is instant when I tell him.

A short time later, guilt cloaks me as we walk out of the hospital. It’s hard to get ready to leave Dad behind. He’s right, though. There’s nothing else I can do here. Pretty sure I don’t need to spend any more time on that bench, either.

I kiss Dad goodbye and walk out of the hospital with hope fluttering around my heart.
She’s okay.

We check in at the Palace and the both of us help Marco and Lily through the rush. After helping out with the orders, I head to the courtyard to see how Quade is doing. I’m not surprised to see a table of girls swooning as Quade delivers their pizza. Their eyes are still glued to him, and his mighty fine toned arse as he clears a nearby table. A small girl with blonde pigtails runs up to him and squeals what sounds like “Mr Kelly”. His tall frame crouches down and he gives her a high-five. The girl runs back to an older couple and sits in a seat between them. The couple wave and smile at Quade, who nods and says hi.

“Mr Fun has many talents,” Lily teases, nudging at my elbow.

“He does. He’s amazing,” I gush. “Dad and I would have been lost without him.”

As Quade has the courtyard under control, we move into the back to unpack the delivery of dry stock that Uncle Marco hasn’t had a chance to get to.

Lily passes me a small box of oregano. “Is everything gonna be cool with your mum?”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “She’ll be okay.”

Tears dot down her flushed cheeks, rippling over her scar before gliding down her jaw. “It’s just when my mum went into hospital …”—
sob
—“she never …”
Sob
.

“Hey,” I soothe, pulling her into a hug. “You okay?”

She wipes away her tears and shakes off whatever dark thoughts were plaguing her a moment ago. “I’m good,” she motions to the boxes beside me. “Let’s get this unpacked and then we can make sure Mr Fun has made it out of the courtyard alive.” The soft laugh that leaves her lips has me suspicious that she’s covering something up. I don’t know what the deal is with her parents, but I want her to know that I’m here for her if she ever needs anything.

I place my hand on her arm and wait until her eyes have met mine. I just hope I don’t come across as pushy, because that’s the last thing I want to do. “Lil, if you ever need to talk about stuff … I’m a good listener.”

“Thanks,” she whispers, and then juts her chin towards the boxes.

“No worries.” I hand her a box with flour. We work in silence until the job is done.

Marco shoos us out at around nine, with food and strict instructions to get it to his brother.

Quade and I pick up a change of clothes and some toiletries for Dad, and we drop them and some food in to him at the hospital. Mum is still stable, but she’s been asleep since we left earlier. I’m resistant to leave again, but I do with the promise that I will return tomorrow with Ricky.

I’m dead on my feet when we finally collapse into bed.

---

The next morning, I find myself at Faith’s grave. I tell my BFF all about Mum’s scare, and tell her that things between Quade and I are good again. When I stand and leave, the weight on my shoulders seems to have lifted. Even though Faith is gone, I still feel her presence. She must be looking down on me.

Walking out of the cemetery, my phone beeps. I yank it out of my pocket and view the message on screen.

Ricky: Just got on the train, see you in a couple of hours x

Me: Cool. Once you get here we can drive in to the hospital x

I’ll even drive my little car there with Ricky as my licensed driver. I bet he’ll give me shit over my driving and the fact I’m still on my learner’s permit, but I don’t care. I’ve come a long way. Hopefully he’ll see that and won’t be the shit of a brother he was before he went overseas.

My shoulder bumps into something, drawing my gaze up into a familiar face.

“Watch where you’re going,” Mr Whittaker grunts. His eyes narrow in on my face and then colour drains from his wrinkled cheeks. He’s probably pissed I’ve done it again. I don’t blame him.

“Mr Whittaker, sorry.” My eyes fixate on the fresh yellow rose at his feet. My heart kicks in my chest. The
ba-boom
of blood rushing around my body fills my ears.

He’s the one. He’s been leaving them?

But why?

I pick up the rose and hand it to him. Whilst every bone in my body in this very moment wants to know why, I can’t ask him outright. I need to be careful about this. I need to watch him. Spooking him now won’t help.

“I promise to watch where I’m going. Sorry again.”

I promise to watch you more carefully from now on.

--

I run out to the taxi when it pulls into the driveway. Once Ricky has paid the fare and has all his belongings on the curb, I throw my arms around him. Seeing him is bitter-sweet. I’ve missed my brother, wanted to see him, but never under circumstances like this. I feel like a little girl again, crying in his arms, like I did on one of the rare times when he was around and I fell off my bike. I’d cry at the sight of a drop of blood.

Ricky holds me close to his chest and strokes my hair. “Everything will be okay,” he whispers in my ear. “Mum’s a tough cookie.”

I wipe at my damp cheeks and pull back, staring into his glistening dark brown eyes. “Are you okay? You know, the thing with Josefine?”

“Huh. I’ll live,” he grunts. “Let’s take all my shit inside.”

After taking everything into the house, we hop into the Speed Demon. My hand shakes as I check my mirrors and then start the car. I reverse and slowly pull out onto the street. I’ve never driven with my big brother accompanying me as a licenced driver.
For good reason
. I’m sure that in a couple of streets from now the snarky comments about my driving ability will start. It’s expected. We’re the kind of brother and sister who argue. Deep down we love each other, but we always fight.

“Good to see you’re driving again.”

Well isn’t that a turnaround from my tease of a brother.

“Yeah. It was hard at first, but Quade was the one who finally kicked my butt into gear.”

“So you and Quade are together, huh?”

I can’t hold back my smile. “Yeah. We are.”

“Mum’s pretty stoked about it. She finally got the hang of using Viber after we Skyped on your birthday. She kept messaging me about how happy she was that the two of you finally got together. She’s over the bloody moon.”