by Nicky Jayne
Footprints
NICKY JAYNE
Copyright © 2013 Nicky Jayne
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs.
Editing and Paperback Formatting by Casey Harvell.
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 the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Find out more about the author and upcoming releases at www.facebook.com/nicky.jayne.56.
ISBN: 1494331108
ISBN-13: 978-1494331108
DEDICATION
Seconds after I wrote “The end” the lives of many changed.
On November 23rd I lost someone very close to my heart.
A daughter, a Sister, a Granddaughter, a niece and a very dear friend.
Losing someone close is never easy, losing someone at the hands of a careless act of another makes losing them so much harder to bare.
I dedicate Footprints to her, a story full of love loss and memories. Those are the things that I will hold close to my heart when I remember her. How she graced my life with her bubbly attitude, amazing smile and kick ass personality.
In loving memory of
Mercedes Leary-Kearney June 1988-November 2013
.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
I
Prologue
1
1
Chapter One
Pg 6
2
Chapter Two
Pg 18
3
Chapter Three
Pg 40
4
Chapter Four
Pg 51
5
Chapter Five
Pg 73
6
Chapter Six
Pg 96
7
Chapter Seven
Pg 110
8
Chapter Eight
Pg 121
9
Chapter Nine
Pg 137
10
Chapter Ten
Pg 157
11
Chapter Eleven
Pg 180
12
Chapter Twelve
Pg 184
13
Chapter Thirteen
Pg 193
14
Chapter Fourteen
Pg 204
15
Chapter Fifteen
Pg 212
16
Chapter Sixteen
Pg 217
17
Chapter Seventeen
Pg 220
Epilogue
Pg 238
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As one of my Beta readers would say, no pitchforks were harmed in the making of this book. I have by far the best Beta Readers. Thank you for always giving it to me straight and keeping those pitchforks at bay. Layla, Megan, Shannon, Tracy. I love you all <3
Thank you to all have helped but this book together. No words can express how grateful I am to you for all your hard work. Thank You.
A huge shout out to my crazy Sin with the Saints ladies and Gent. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Late night messages and writing rants, you have always been there. I love you all dearly. Laura, Shannon, David, Hannah and Elaine.
Last but by far least, the ladies of the 58RQS, who sat drank coffee and looked at me all types of crazy as I asked a thousand and one questions. I needed the research…Bribe the girls with coffee and they will come.
No matter how small a part you may have played in the making of this book, I am grateful to each and every one of you. Your comments, your reviews you pitch fork wielding. It made this what it is today.
To my readers, I hope you enjoyed reading Tanner and Riley’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for the continued support.
Prologue
The loud drone of the engines signal his departure. Lights flash in the distance, guiding jets in for a safe landing. One by one, they load into the back of the giant beast that rests on the field of tarmac. Its wings are as long as my street, its body as tall as the old oak that stands so graciously in my backyard, where Riley and her dad spent countless hours in her rickety old tree house. The small wooden walls lined with pony pictures, photos of her family and friends.
A small shelf sits lodged in the corner, with no hooks, nails or sticky up things used to hold it up. The shelf sits upon a small stack of books, just high enough that it’s off the floor, but low enough that she can reach it. As the years have passed, more and more books have been added to the pile, so that as Riley grew so did the height of the shelf. It won’t be long before it needs to come down a book or two. Her precious, wooden shelf is filled with all her trinkets, her special things, from the small cat ornament she found at a yard sale and spent her very first allowance on, to the foam framed picture of Riley and her dad.
Surprising her one year, after being gone almost twelve months, she was sure he’d miss yet another one of her birthdays. She was in for the shock of her life. He came. He Saw. He hugged her, and though he was dirty and sweaty, her heart melted for him.
Riley’s a true daddy's girl, there aren’t many things that they disagree on. She loves him, is proud of him, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. As she hugs her father close, the small chain that once hung from the foam frame, pinches into her skin. She snaps back, recoiling from the pain. Tears that once kept their distance, now brim at the edge of her eyes. She tries to stay brave, just as her mother does. But much like her mother, when she is alone, she breaks, and when she caves, she cries. For this man who they love, more than life.
Wiping away her tears, she sees him kneeling before her. His hair, razored to the skin just above his ears, with a small scar that lines the top of his brow. His eyes look pained, sore, rough, and broken. This’s just as hard for him as it is for them. A small smile sprinkles over her face, as she looks deep into his soul.
The sound of children's sobs, and a flurry of goodbyes breaks her from her tight hold. For many, this is the first time they’ve said goodbye, for others like Riley, this is one of many.
Watching your loved one take flight, and walk into unknown danger is not something that you’re able to get used to, whether it be your first or your hundredth time. The looks of despair, from the fear the unknown, shadows the faces of normal people. Riley knows why he has to leave, she understands that there’s someone else out there that needs his protection more than she. That doesn’t stop her selfish thoughts, though. Why does he have to go? I need him more! I need him at my ballet lessons, at my piano recitals. Do their needs outweigh hers?
The fear clings to her heart. No one speaks of it. It truly is a taboo subject, with each going away, the families anxiously count the days until they get to welcome their hero home again. Sadly though, each year the familiar faces become less and less. Battle scarred men come back in the place of heroes, families torn apart by the sheer destruction that the war has brought upon them.
Will this be the last time?
The thought runs through her mind, as her mother kisses and clings to her husband one final time before he boards. His uniform rubs against Riley's arms as she clings to his chest. Underneath this over starched, weapon laden material is the one man that she will forever love more than life. A small tear escapes running down her cold cheek as he leans in and whispers into her ear.
“You are my strength,
you are my reason. I love you with all my heart ladybug.”
A sob catches in her throat at the change in his tone. As she moves to catch his eyes, a small blond haired, blue-eyed boy runs open armed to his dad, as his mother stands stock still hand clasped to her mouth. This is just another game to him. The plane is just another toy, another part to his make believe adventure. He doesn’t understand. Her body shudders with each unheard sob.
Watching the scene play out before her, Riley pulls all the strength she has and smiles, a weak smile, but it’s something. This will not be the last time, staying positive makes each day go by as normal as possible.
“Riley, darlin say goodbye, Dad has to leave.”
Pulling her eyes from the young child and his father. Taking one look at her emotion strewn mom, she widens her smile.
Reaching up on her tip toes, she pulls his warm, smooth face down so she can whisper the words that only they share. They are simple, but yet they are so full of meaning.
“You are my strength. I will wait for you, I will smile for you, I will think of you always. Visit me in my dreams, daddy. I love you.”
It may sound insignificant to you, but the bond that these small words hold are as strong as the metal holding the wings on that plane.
With a wink and a smile, her dad turns and follows the others. One by one they flow into the great beast, like cattle being lead to slaughter. As always, the women and children huddle around into a close tight group, each cry and heart break is drowned by another. Watching closely, hands gripped tightly around each other’s. This small group of women of all ages becomes one, as the plane takes to the air. Up and up it goes, skirting the clouds above, seemingly flying towards the sun. With every mile that passes, the great winged bird shrinks, becoming nothing more than a spec on the horizon.
Blowing a kiss to the sky, we turn and leave. No more tears will be shed in public, no more cries of desperation shall be heard. From this point on, a challenge begins. We must work as a team, until they return home.
Even though that day seems so far away, she can picture it. Banners will hang from porches, flags will fly high, as we welcome home our heroes.
CHAPTER ONE
16 months 4 days later
I haven't slept for what seems like days. Every time I close my eyes, I see him, his smile beaming through my memories like a ray of early morning sunlight, warming the bitter cold fall air. I flick my eyes open from yet another night of unsettled sleep. The second the light touches my delicate globes, I slam them shut. I have cried so much in the past seven days my eyes are dry, worn and tired.
Mom and I have barely spoken in days, we have shielded ourselves from each other. Locking ourselves away from the harsh reality of his death. When I look at her all I see is him, and I’m sure it’s the same for her. I am if anything, a carbon copy of my dad. From his eyes to the tiny dimple on my right cheek. Just the thought of him, makes me choke. I try and stifle the cries which once came so easy, but now not so much. It hurts to cry, it hurts to feel the loss. Will this ever get better?
A week earlier
My hand becomes clammy, slick as I grip hers, squeezing tightly as we watch the plane that carries my dad pull alongside the walkway. Layers of blue flash in front of my eyes, as flags make their way across the tarmac. I don't want to watch them, but I’m strangely drawn to their grace, their rhythm. The saluting crowd of men form two lines, as the plane comes to a stop. Time seems to slow as I watch, the engines droning and whining just as they did when he left. Voices call out, as the rear of the planes begins to open and finally touch the floor. With each footstep that makes its way up the rear, I can hear my mother’s broken heartbeat along with my own. We are in sync. Her hand releases mine as she is swept into my grandpa’s arms. Her cries have become familiar, but their sharpness and her tears are still as fresh as that day. That day that their words destroyed all those around me.
Uncle Crass stands in front of me. I can see his lips move, but I hear no words. All I can hear is the click of heals on the ground in front of me. My world has shattered before me, the only thing I loved more than life is there in front of me, carried by six men dressed in their finest mess dress, their hands clothed in white as they carry him, flashes of silver blinding me as I stare long and hard at them. A stretcher sits right in front of us, it’s not moving, it’s just as frozen as I am. There are no grunts, no complaints, as they lift the casket onto the stretcher. Like the blast of a wave, every sense I temporarily lost comes rushing back to me. Sounds and smells combine into one.
Taking the hand reaching out for me, I start to walk. The doors to the waiting area open slowly. The sun shines so bright, it hurts my weary eyes. The cold morning air nips at my fragile body. With each step I take closer to the flag covered casket, my heart breaks a little more. I cling to my uncle’s hand as we walk slowly. I want to wake up from this nightmare, this can’t be happening to me. That is not my dad, my life, the only man that will ever own my heart in that silver box. It can’t be true. No matter how many times I try to pull myself away from the never ending circle of thoughts, it always ends up true.
Whether it be the sympathy lined face of a relative, or the mass of paperwork that lays on the table in our hotel room. Even the uniforms that I’ve seen over the past few days remind me that this is not a nightmare, this is my life. I have become a statistic, I have become the daughter of a war hero killed in action.
I’ve been told a thousand times that I should be proud of him, that he sacrificed his life for his country, for us. Deep down though, I have this overwhelming feeling of hatred. How could he be so selfish and leave us? Why did he go? Were we not enough of an adventure for him? Did he really have to go chase bullets to get a thrill?
No one knows how I feel, I have read the leaflets strategically placed everywhere we go, my feelings are ‘normal’. Really, my God, who in their right mind would feel this way? Me, that’s who.
The flag is crisp, clean and beautiful as it lays across the silver casket. It’s so appealing that I want to run my fingers over it. To feel the stitching as the red, white and blue meet. An almighty sob comes from beside me. I watch as my mother lays her heart broken, mentally beaten body over the flag. I raise my hand to object as she scrunches the flag under her body, but I can’t. I’m drawn to it as well. It’s not the flag that is appealing to me, it’s what is underneath it.
Laid deep under those colors, the red, white and blue, the stars and the stripes, is my dad.
Putting my hand on top of the flag, trying to feel all of him that I can, I push the rest of my body into my Uncle’s, needing his strength right now. My face rests on the ribbons that line his breast. It’s uncomfortable, but having him close right now is what I need.
“Breathe, lady bug,” his soft voice soaks through my sobbing.
There are only two men in my life that are allowed to call me Ladybug. My dad and Uncle Crass. I love them both so much. When I needed a rock, he was there. When I needed protecting, he was there. Now he stands holding my choking body, as I mourn the one man we both looked up to.
“Why?” I croak. It’s the only question I can manage to ask. There are a thousand on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get them out. They just don’t seem as important as knowing why.
No one knows why. I wonder sometimes if I asked, how they would try to tell me.
“Riley,” my grand papa croaks from beside me.
As much as I don’t want to leave the safety and warmth of my Uncle’s chest, I turn my head slightly, bringing him into view.
“Come stand with your mother, dear.”
I nod slowly, reaching for his hand. I don't think I’m able to walk unassisted, and I take each step gingerly. As I get closer to my mom, her body shakes uncontrollably while she cries into the flag. Her arms barely make it over the curve of the casket. She grips it like it’s her lifeline. Resting my hand on hers, I fall to my knees, my small body giving in. My heart can’t take anymore. Suddenly, I’m encas
ed in her body, and she holds me so tight that I struggle for oxygen even more, as I gasp between her tears. We rock back and forth in each other’s arms, making a scene beside him.
Letting everything out, I scream into her shoulder as she strokes my hair. I left it down today, because he loved my hair when it was down.
We’re a ball of emotion, neither of us wanting to let go, neither of us wanting to leave.
“I love you, daddy,” is all I can say before pure emotion shocks my body.
*****
Today is the day, that we say our final goodbyes. Today is the day, that I have to share my grief with all those faces which stood near when he boarded that plane for the last time. Can I be strong enough to face them?
There’s a small knock against my door. By this point, there’s no need for me to answer, they’ve been in and out over the last few days checking on me. I’ve only seen my mom once, but honestly, I can’t blame her, this is just as hard on her as it is me. I suppose once everyone has gone we’ll have our time. Right now though, we need to think of ourselves. I’m not a small child who needs to be hugged and told everything will be okay. I don’t need to be told some fabricated story about where he is and what will become of us. I know the truth. I know what’s happening.
“Riley, sweetie, you awake?” my grandmas soft voice carries through my small room.
I move slightly, so she can see I‘m still alive, hoping she will leave me in peace.
“Riley, it’s time to get up.”
