Thirty Days: Part One

by Belle Brooks

“Oh.”

  “Get checked over and then I’ll take you home.”

  I’m loaded into the back of the ambulance and privacy is offered as promised. The examination doesn’t take very long, and before I know it, I’m in the passenger seat of the white sedan on my way back to the manor. Marcus sits quietly, his attention fixed on the road as he drives. My eyelids become heavy as we drive up the long driveway that leads to the bed I crave after tonight’s events. Marcus remains silent on the drive home and so do I. It seems that I’m going back to the Sunshine Coast in the morning and right now I’m relieved at the thought.

  The Power of Dreams

  After a hot shower, I retreat to my room and curl up under the covers. The clutch that caused so much fear in a moment of utter stupidity on my part rests on the bedside cupboard. Either Marcus or Grady must have put it there, because to be honest I don’t even remember seeing it after I collected it from the ground. My body begs me to sleep, but I need the comfort of my safety net, Sammy. Reaching for the clutch, I retrieve my phone. The clock reads 10:29 p.m. “It’s never too late to call Sammy,” I mutter, pressing her number.

  “Hello, Abi, how was your night? I was getting worried you’d forgotten to call me.”

  “No,” I reply quietly.

  “What’s the matter?” she immediately asks.

  “Sammy, I was mugged tonight.”

  “What the fuck?” she shrieks. “Are you okay? Where are you? Does your mum know? Shit.” So many questions are fired at me, and I’ve no idea where to start. “Abigail, was Peter with you?”

  “Peter?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.” Who’s Peter?

  “You need to tell me what happened. Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick. Are you hurt?” The panic in her voice makes my stomach turn over.

  “I’m not hurt. I just got a fright,” I reply, upset.

  Filling Sammy in on the basics is all I can manage. I tell her that I was talking to Mum and found myself down a dark street. How a man grabbed me and held me against a wall and how Marcus stopped him and I got away. The line goes silent as I sit quiet, waiting for her to take the information in.

  “Abi.”

  “Yes.”

  “Marcus who?”

  “Marcus Klein, my boss.” Again the line is silent.

  Sammy starts doing the same heavy breathing my mother did when I said his name to her earlier tonight. They both know him.

  “Ginger.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I’m just in shock that someone tried to mug you. Oh, Dorothy, this is a new one even for you.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Promise me you’re okay?”

  “I promise. Hey, don’t tell Mum. I’ll tell her tomorrow…I just want to go to sleep.”

  “I won’t. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. Hey, Ginger?”

  “Yes, Dorothy.”

  “I love you.”

  “Ditto,” she says with a sigh. “Good night, Abi.”

  “Night.”

  As the phone drops from my limp hand to the bed, my eyes close.

  Autumn leaves floated softly to the ground. The rustling sound from the wind was musical. The smell was home.

  As a cool gust of wind swirled, I pulled my coat tighter around me and made my way down the footpath, then up the front steps to our two-bedroom apartment. It was small, but perfect.

  I’d had another rewarding day in my new job, and it was only a couple of hours until he was going to walk through the front door and wrap me in his arms. How I’d missed those arms. Three days was too long.

  The house keys landed heavily on the table as I pulled off the boots I had been wearing for the last nine hours.

  The sound of Bella’s tail smacking against wooden floor boards alerted me to her welcome home dash, in three, two, one…impact!

  “Mummy’s home,” I cried out, pulling her into my arms. “Hello, pretty girl, did you miss me?” I asked. Her kisses told me she did. “I hope you’ve been a good puppy today, and I hope you stayed out of Mummy’s food cupboard,” I added, kissing her nose.

  People said animals weren’t like us, but she was. She was my world…our world.

  My fingers ran over Bella’s thick black coat, which was smooth to the touch. I looked into her small pug face that screamed innocence, even though I was fairly sure she was far from innocent.

  “Your daddy’s coming home tonight,” I whispered, placing her on the floor as her whole butt shook with force. “I missed him too.” I sighed, walking into the kitchen. “What should we make Daddy for dinner?”

  She barked.

  “Yes, steak would be perfect.”

  I bent down and patted her head before making my way to the bedroom to change.

  The phone rang. I rushed to the lounge to answer it, almost tripping over Bella in my haste.

  “Abi, your clumsiness never ceases to amaze me.” I looked up to see the long red locks and light blue eyes that belonged to Sammy, who was waiting at the screen door.

  “I guess it’s part of my charm,” I replied smiling, as the phone ceased its chime. “Oh, well, they’ll call back if it’s important. Come in.”

  Moments later, I had the kettle filled, and Sammy sat comfortably at the kitchen table. An afternoon catch-up was the perfect distraction.

  “How much longer now until Sir Romeo gets back?” she teased, grinning.

  I looked down at my watch, 5:45 p.m. “Two hours,” I replied, giddy like a school girl.

  “You guys are the perfect couple. I hope I find that one day.” Sammy’s eyes became misty.

  “Can you believe I’m getting married? Like, has it sunk in yet?”

  She giggled. “No, it hasn’t. It was always going to happen, though. Written in the stars.”

  I gushed. Pure happiness.

  We talked for what felt like hours about the wedding, our new careers, and our future. It made me see how amazing my life was. Sure, I was clumsy and sometimes naïve, but I really had it good.

  “You know what I love the most about you, Abs?” Sammy asked, sipping from her second cup of tea.

  “What?” I questioned shyly.

  “How you can always find the positive in every situation. Seriously, girl, you’re infectious. I’m lucky to have you in my life.” Her hand reached across the table, clasping mine tightly.

  I could see the truth in her words—it choked me up.

  “Ditto,” was my reply.

  Before long it was Bella and I alone again, and I started preparing dinner while she sat right by my feet. “You’re just as excited as me, aren’t you? Listen here, pooch. I will be the first to fling myself into his arms, okay?”

  She panted, her small mouth arched upward.

  “Aww…you’re smiling.”

  The knife moved back and forth as I trimmed the small portion of fat from the meat.

  The sound of keys jingling against the door was the only one I was waiting for. So when I heard it, I squealed, “He’s home,” almost tripping over Bella again as I dashed to the door. It opened slowly as my breath hitched in my throat.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he announced, unprepared for my assault.

  I leapt into his arms. “I’ve missed you,” I declared, placing soft kisses over every bit of his perfect face.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” he murmured against my skin. His lips found mine, pressing hard. “I love you, Abigail,” he declared against my mouth.

  “And I you.”

  “Forever and always, babe.”

  “Forever and always,” I said adoringly.

  The steak dinner waited. The only thing he wanted was me, in our bed. Our need was too strong. Our love stronger.

  I’m awoken by a kiss to the lips.

  “Mike,” I moan, feeling myself pulled into reality and the memory of my ex-fiancé drifting away.

  “Abigail, no, it’s Marcus. The police are
here to see you now.”

  “What? Huh. Where am I?” My eyes have difficulty focusing on the blurred vision in front of me.

  “Come on, sleepyhead. I need you to come downstairs. It won’t take long.”

  “Okay,” I mumble before closing my eyes once more.

  “No, no. It’s time to wake up, come on.”

  “I’m awake,” I groan, sitting upright.

  “I’ll give you a minute.”

  “Yep.”

  My body shakes when I realise that for the first time in forever I’ve had a happy dream about Mike. Maybe the absolute shock of my almost mugging brought me to a place in my life that was filled with pure safety and happiness. A place that for so long I haven’t been able to call home. But I’m gutted when I realise that my life is a mess and now I have to face the police. If only I wasn’t Abigail the Hexed, life would be a shitload easier.

  ***

  As Marcus promised, it didn’t take too long for me to give the police the information they needed. The man who tried to rob me was well-known to the police for what they referred to as ‘petty crimes’. I’d rather call it terrifying the fuck out of the innocent, but they weren’t the ones pushed up against a wall. The two officers, both middle-aged and dark-skinned, left rather swiftly. They guaranteed that the matter would be handled quickly and those words seemed to create a peaceful tranquillity in Marcus’ expression. With a final handshake from Marcus, the door closed and the silence of the night resumed.

  “I’m going back to bed,” I say wearily.

  “That would be for the best.” Marcus’ eyes seem to beg for rest of their own.

  “Okay, good night.” Standing from the table, I shuffle my tired feet to the staircase. I’ve no idea what tomorrow will bring, but after today I don’t think it can get any worse. Glancing back over my shoulder, Marcus is nowhere to be seen. The Magician strikes again. I giggle when I reach the top of the stairs. What a fucking balls-up this has been.

  The covers nestle around my body, offering some comfort, and although I’m extremely tired my eyes remain wide open. Glimmers of light dance across the ceiling, and I lie there watching them as they bounce from one spot to another. Turning my head, I see the curtains hanging at the window are parted and this observation frightens me. Without hesitation, I jump out of bed and pull them closed. The room now lies in complete darkness, but this only intensifies the fear I’m feeling.

  “Abigail.” Marcus’ voice is soft as he speaks my name through the door.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yes,” I reply climbing back into bed, pulling the covers high up under my chin.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks after I hear the sound of the door opening.

  “Better than I expected I would.”

  “Can I turn on the light?”

  “Sure.” The light flicks on, causing me to blink a few times. Marcus stands in long cotton pyjama bottoms that hang perfectly from his hips. He is bare chested and his hair is messed in a way that tells me his fingers have stroked through the strands many times since I’ve been up here.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Can I ask you something then?” He seems reluctant to ask the question.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Clearing his throat, he runs his fingers through the thick locks on his beautiful head. “At the cemetery, you said that you were telling your father about a wedding dress, one you never wore.”

  I swallow hard. The fear that was sitting heavily in the pit of my stomach begins to roll like dirty clothes tumbling in a washing machine.

  “That your ex-fiancé was getting remarried.”

  My chest begins to crush under the strain of what I know now he is going to ask.

  “Abigail, that was Mike, wasn’t it? He broke your heart.”

  “Yes,” I reply, my voice barely audible.

  Marcus’ cheeks puff out before they deflate with a noisy exhale of air. “I’m sorry, Abigail.”

  I sit staring at him as his jaw clenches and his muscles tense. I don’t really know what to say, so I don’t say anything as the light turns off and the door to the room closes.

  “Marcus.” There’s no reply. “Marcus,” I say again as a single tear streaks my cheek and my eyes close.

  Memories

  My heart beats so hard, it threatens to explode from my chest as I wake in a pool of my own sweat. “What was that?” I whisper, shaking my head. I can’t believe the vision that awoke me and now my mind is filled with so many more questions and I’ve no idea where, or how, to find the answers. The satin pants and top set I wore to bed last night clings to my skin with perspiration. Instead of taking the staircase to investigate the smell of another breakfast cooking, I head to the bathroom to freshen up.

  Dressed in a baby blue silk blouse and flowy knee-length skirt, I sit in front of the heart-shaped mirror and fasten my hair with a black claw clip. A light application of makeup and some high heels, and I’m ready for the day.

  “I’m going to court with Marcus today regardless of what he says,” I say to my reflection after I realise how much I don’t want to go home. Now I need to find the courage to tell him to his face.

  My heels clomp loudly against the wooden staircase even though I try to tiptoe. When I reach the opening to the kitchen, I’m greeted by Marcus’ bare back and immediately have visions of my nails scraping his skin, leaving marks on him. Why such a vision enters my head rattles me, but the need is strong.

  “Abigail,” he greets me confidently.

  “Marcus,” I reply, and I’m surprised by the seductive nature of my voice.

  He turns slowly before eyeing me up and down. “You look beautiful.”

  I smile shyly before walking to the table and parting the heavy curtains, allowing the glorious view of another day to shine in. Sitting at the table, I choose the chair facing the river, and I can feel my body relaxing a fraction.

  “Do you always cook breakfast in the morning?”

  Marcus puts our plates onto the table and takes a seat before he answers. “No, I don’t normally. Martha…Mrs. Frost normally cooks breakfast when we stay. However, I found out yesterday that they are actually on a leave of absence, so I’m playing chef this week.”

  “I see. Well, you’re a very good cook.”

  “Thank you.” He grins before scooping a forkful of scrambled eggs and putting it into his mouth. I follow suit, scooping a forkful for myself, and just as I raise it from the plate, Marcus says, “I think you should take your blouse off before you do that.”

  I gulp loudly in shock, loud enough for him to hear. “I beg your pardon.” My face warms instantly.

  “I said, I think you should take your blouse off before you do that.” His eyes burn with intensity.

  “I heard you the first time.”

  The corners of his lips arch at my response. “Knowing you, you’ll spill that down the front of that top. You look so pretty in blue. I’d hate for you to have to change.”

  Slowly, I place the fork back onto the plate.

  He stares at me with curiosity, yet amusement.

  At first I hesitate. I’m starving, but he’s right. I’d probably ruin the shirt in one mouthful. My now shaky fingers begin at the top bottom, unfastening it with ease, never taking my eyes from his. As each button slips free, more of my skin is exposed. Once completely undone, I tip my shoulders backwards, allowing the shirt to fall down behind me.

  “Better?” I question, watching the gleam in his eyes brighten.

  “Definitely,” he replies, breaking eye contact. Knowing he’s looking at my lace covered breasts only causes my body to warm even more. “So much better,” his voice hums before taking a hasty bite of his toast. “So much fucking better,” he adds, not hiding his pleasure.

  I polish off my breakfast before Marcus does. That’s probably because the man’s eyes never left my heaving chest the entire time. With a small
giggle I stand and slip my blouse back on, fastening it into place.

  “You better hurry up, or you’re going to be late for court.” I smirk, and he chuckles in response.

  ***

  Grady pulls up slowly until we come to a complete stop.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “About a block from the courthouse, Miss McMillian,” Grady answers, his golden eyes visible in the rear-view mirror.

  “Oh, okay. We walk then?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the inside of a courtroom. Or a courthouse for that matter.”

  “That’s probably not a bad thing, Abigail,” Marcus interrupts, with the first words he has spoken to me since breakfast. The entire drive in he was quiet and it seemed the closer we got the tenser he became. “Grady, please see that Abigail gets to the airport without any incident today.”

  “Airport!” I screech in anger.

  “I told you, you’re going home.”

  “Marcus, please. I don’t want to go,” I find myself pleading as he opens the door.

  “Abigail. Don’t.” He steps from the car, looking in through the opening.

  “Marcus, you need help today. I can help.”

  “Have a safe flight, Miss McMillian,” he says before closing the door.

  Instant panic sears through my veins as I try desperately to open the door. “Grady, it’s not opening.” My hands frantically pull with despair.

  “It’s child locked as per instruction.”

  “Open the fucking door, Grady.”

  “I can’t, Abigail.”

  “Do it now.”

  “Sorry,” he says, starting to pull the car from the curb.

  My heart throbs with such intensity the pain is overwhelming. In pure desperation I yell, “I fucking remember. I fucking remembered, Grady. You have to let me tell Marcus. Please let me tell him.”

  The car jolts as Grady’s foot pushes heavily on the brake. “Abigail, really?” he spews out and his head twists so his eyes stare into mine.

  “I do, I honestly do.”

  “Go!” he shouts, causing me to startle because of the unexpected tone of his voice. “Abigail, go.”

  I’m weightless as I begin to walk with speed down the footpath. “Marcus,” I shout when I’m a short distance behind him.