Thirty Days: Part One (35 page)
“I promise.” I sniffle.
“Please, Abigail, you need to remember what happened, but you need to do it without Marcus by your side.”
“I’m trying,” I scream as my heart throbs to the beat of my pulse.
“That’s all I ask…it’s time to go now.”
“Now?” I croak out between sobs.
“Yes.”
Homecoming
I watch the raindrops dribble down the plane window but, apart from that, there is only darkness.
The pilot is very kind. He was introduced to me as “The Captain.” I’m pretty sure this is a name for someone who controls ships, not planes, but I go with it. I was referred to as “Marcus’s Abigail.” It seems Marcus has spoken to many about me. The plane is very small. It’s the smallest plane I’ve ever travelled on, an old double propelled thing.
Every pocket of air causes us to bump and jump around with the turbulence. After thirty minutes we seem to find a smooth run. It’s probably due to the fact that we’re out of the storm. With heavy eyes, I allow myself to close them in hope of sleep, praying it relieves the feeling of the sand grains seemingly caught under my eyelids.
“I love the highway, Dad.” I smiled with my hand dancing through the wind out of the open window. The greenest of green scenery raced by.
“Me too, sweetheart.” Dad looked in his element with the steering column of Rodger, his beloved navy Dodge D5, between his fingers.
“So are you going to tell me why we are going into Brisbane yet…? No,” I snapped, tapping my finger against my chin. “Let’s see if I can guess. A shopping spree…my graduation present…no, my eighteenth birthday present?”
“Wrong, wrong, and wrong,” he answered cheekily as I looked at his neatly trimmed beard and his bright green eyes.
My lip dropped, and I pouted, the pout that made Dad give me anything I wanted.
“Hey, quit it with those eyes, young lady.” He grinned.
“I love you, Dad.”
“Ditto,” he replied as the sunlight danced like sugar plums around his head.
“So spill the beans.” These words caused him to breathe heavily, and when his eyes met mine again, they were soft yet sad. “What’s wrong?”
“Abstar,” he began, hesitant to continue. “I made a mistake. A whopping big one. And I want you to know that I’m deeply sorry.”
“Dad...” I bit at my lip.
“I want this to turn out okay. Well, I’m hoping. I need to do this with you now before too much more time passes.”
“You can’t adopt me out now. I’m much too old, you know,” I interrupted, hoping to prolong a situation I could see was going to cause me hurt.
“I’m not adopting you out, silly girl. This isn’t one of those joking times, Abstar. I need to be serious now.”
“Okay,” I muttered.
“So about a month ago I was given some news.”
“No. Dad, are you dying? Please don’t tell you’re sick, have cancer or are dying. I can’t live without you. Are we going to the Brisbane hospital? Oh crap, we are, aren’t we?”
Dad placed his hand on top of mine, which was resting on my knee. “Stop. Don’t get your knickers in a knot, sweetheart. I’m not dying. I’m going nowhere near the pearly gates of Heaven for a very long time, yet. Now breathe before you turn blue.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t mean to. I just can’t find the words to tell you what needs to be said.”
“You’ve never had trouble before.” My thumbnail slipped between my teeth, my nervous habit that provided safety.
“Baby girl…I was so drunk and stupid. Actually, I don’t want you to think you can do these stupid things when you’re drunk, so scrap that.” His words hesitant, his breath laboured.
“Dad, I promise whatever it is, it will be okay. I love you. You’re my daddy. You can say it.”
And just as he went to speak, Rodger the Dodger started barrelling smoke from under the hood and the car chugged to the emergency lane off the highway.
“Oh buggar,” Dad scoffed, opening the driver’s door. “Don’t do this to me now, Grandpa Rodger. What has you burning up, old friend?” he spoke out loud to his very favourite car.
“Dad, what’s the problem?” I jumped out to help him, and the warm sun instantly heated my skin.
“Not sure yet, baby girl. Step back while I get this hood lifted.” Smoke puffed from under the cover like that from a steam train. “I’m going to have to call someone to help with this. Stand clear of the old guy, will you.”
“Okay,” I shouted out as he approached the driver’s door.
One step, two steps, three steps to the side, I stood watching puffs of smoke drifting across the highway.
“Hey, mate, have a wee problem,” I heard Dad say before I looked over the roof of the car and saw him grinning his cheeky grin at me with his mobile phone in hand.
Screech! The sound was deafening.
“Dad, watch out!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
Bang. Crash! The crunch of splitting metal raced through my ears.
“No,” I wailed.
Roger pushed towards me, another car forcing him my way. I stood stilled, shocked, frozen. The car spun around my body, missing me on every turn. The entire world slowed as, frame by frame, it played out almost motionlessly. I tried to scream as my head turned to witness Rodger reared up on its side before it flipped repeatedly.
“Dad,” I screamed when I could find my voice again. My breath hitched and my legs gave way. I was falling…
“I’ve got you,” he said. Chocolate eyes stared into mine. “Holy shit,” he cursed with his mouth wide open.
Marcus.
My eyes spring open. I’m huffing and puffing, the fear I’m experiencing palpable. I calm my breathing, but I still feel like I’m falling. “Marcus caught me. I’m awake?”
Confusion.
“Holy fuck, we’re actually falling,” I cry out when it becomes apparent the plane is hurtling towards the ground.
“Don’t panic, Abigail.” The Captain’s tone is strained. “I’ve got this old girl under control. I’ll get her to the ground. Hold on tight.”
“Holy fuck…holy fuck,” I repeat under my breath as my life flashes before my eyes, stopping on a vision of Marcus, who is peacefully standing in front of me. A wide smile, a small scar no bigger than my fingernail, a face of a god that gazes at me adoringly. We’re dancing on top of a mountain. I’m blissfully happy as my skin glows in a flowy blue dress. The dress fans outwards as I’m spun, causing me to laugh loudly.
“I love you, Abigail,” Marcus whispers, pressing his body to mine. His warmth leaves me as he drops to one knee. A red velvet box opens. I take a step back as my heart bursts with excitement. I squeal, stepping back a few more times…I slip. I’m slipping. I fall. My hands cling onto a cliff face as my nails scrape through the dirt. I’m not stopping, I’m going over. The pain in his voice as he screams my name is torturous. I can’t hold on. I’m falling…
The plane windows rattle around me. My head darts frantically in every direction before I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe out, “I’m going to die.”
Where to start.
Without these following people I’m not sure I’d have published in the end, so a big thank you from the bottom of my heart to: Kylee Harris, Liz Lovelock, Kirsty Roworth, Caroline Dayas, Jakarra Adams, Allyson Sinclair and Shaelene Adams. You ladies are the most amazing, and kindest people…I am so incredibly lucky to get to call you all my friends.
To my husband Michael, who I love dearly. It’s always been you baby.
To my wonderful editorial and creative crew: Karen Harper, Emily A Lawrence, Max Henry and Tracey Weston. You ladies have talent beyond belief and I’m so grateful for all that you have done to assist me on my journey.
Lastly, I’d like to thank everybody who has helped to promote my work, and to all the readers. Without the readers there’d be no purpose for my words.
Belle Brooks is a former business manager, wife, and mother of three, living in Queensland, Australia. For as long as she can remember, writing has been a major part of her life, bringing her peace and comfort in the arms of her fictional characters. Never planning to have her work published, she focused her attention on her career and family. That is until she finally found the courage to allow her words to become public for others to enjoy, due mainly to the encouragement and support of those who love her. The series, Thirty Days,
is her first publication.
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