Will I ever walk again?
At first Charley grieved the loss of her legs, crying herself to sleep each pain-racked night.
In her dreams she was whole again, surfing endless oceans or running over mountains, faster and faster, her feet barely touching the ground. Then she’d wake believing she could walk, her heart light and her head happy until she tried to move. Her legs would refuse all commands. Sweat would pour from her brow as she mentally screamed at them to respond.
This denial of her crippled state didn’t last long. Soon Charley grew to hate the sight of her legs. What use were they if they didn’t work? They were like two logs of rotten wood. She could saw them off and wouldn’t feel or notice a damn difference!
At the end of her first week in hospital, she was moved from the intensive-care unit to the high-dependency unit. Progress, the nurse told her with a cheery smile.
It didn’t feel like progress to Charley – just a different room with the same antiseptic smell and the same routine as before.
Then, in the second week, while a nurse was washing what used to be her legs, Charley felt a slight sensation of pins and needles. She still couldn’t tell which leg the nurse was touching, but there was a definite feeling. She’d enthusiastically told the nurse and a doctor had been called. But when he performed a series of sensory tests her legs didn’t react to any other stimuli. The doctor was encouraging, but Charley’s spark of hope faded.
Yet a couple of days later some sensation returned to her bowel. This time the doctor was noticeably animated. A vital neurological sign for future leg function, he’d said. It still seemed like the thinnest of threads reconnecting her to her lower half. But it was enough to reignite Charley’s hope and carry her through the long dark hours, alone and scared of what the future might hold.
The changes were small, but towards the end of the first month Charley was convinced some feeling had returned to the soles of her feet. It was as if her legs were waking up from a decade-long hibernation. Some days she could even sense their position on the bed. At night the nerves inside buzzed, like a broken hard drive trying to reboot itself.
One glorious morning Charley discovered she could wiggle her toes. Only a fraction – but it was movement. Then, just as she was celebrating this progress, her whole body went into spasm. It started in her legs, rushed up like a tsunami through her body, arched her spine backwards and turned her hands into claws, crushing the paper cup in her grasp and sending water flying.
There was no pain. But Charley was terrified.
The spasm lasted a minute or so, yet felt like eons to Charley. When it subsided, she discovered the doctor at her side. Soothing her, he explained that spasms were a side effect of her spinal injury. Her body’s normal reflex system was being short-circuited. The explanation brought Charley little relief.
One afternoon, after a particularly violent spasm, there was a knock at her door. Ash popped his head in.
‘How you doing today?’ he asked.
‘All right,’ she lied, wiping perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand.
‘I’ve brought some more grapes and a couple of new books.’
‘Thanks,’ she replied as he put the gifts on her bedside table and pulled up a chair. He’d visited her almost every day and this afternoon he seemed more lively than usual, his knee jittering up and down with repressed excitement.
Ash took her hand. She let him, her fingers lying in his palm as lifeless as her legs. ‘I know I’ve said this before, but I’m so sorry about all this.’ He glanced down the length of the bed.
Charley forced a smile. ‘Pool had to be on the roof, didn’t it?’
Ash’s laugh was as hollow as her smile. ‘Hey, I’m not doing that crazy stunt ever again. Where’s your phone, by the way?’
Charley nodded to the desk drawer. Pulling it open, Ash paired his own phone with hers and transferred a file. As he waited for it to download, he explained enthusiastically, ‘I finished recording your song last night. Finally nailed it. The producer and Kay both think the track’s a classic. It’s going to be the lead single off my new album –’
‘Why do you keep visiting me?’ Charley interrupted.
Ash blinked in surprise. ‘Because I want to.’
‘No, really?’
‘To support you, of course. Like you looked after me. That’s why I’ve stayed on in LA to record my album.’
‘Not because you feel obliged to … or guilty?’
Ash averted his eyes. ‘Of course I feel guilty. You were hurt protecting me.’
Charley withdrew her hand. She no longer wore his bracelet and she was sure that he’d noticed – not that she cared. During her enforced stay in hospital, she’d had a lot of time to think and one doubt had been plaguing her. ‘How come so many people were out to get you?’
Ash shrugged. ‘I’ve wondered that myself. I suppose, fame makes for an easy target.’
‘OK. Then tell me one other thing. Did you honestly write “Only Raining”?’
Charley saw the answer in his eyes before Ash even replied.
‘Yes …’ he began, before looking away from her withering glare and admitting, ‘Most of it.’
He sighed heavily. ‘I had a verse but no chorus. Brandon Mills wrote the chorus. And he would’ve been credited if he hadn’t cheated on Kay. He knocked her about too. Brandon wasn’t a nice guy. So Kay literally wrote him out of the song. Her revenge. She swore me to secrecy. You see, Kay was building a story around me as this genius singer-songwriter. We had to protect the legend.’
Charley nodded, accepting it without judgement.
‘I wrote all of “Angel Without Wings”, though,’ Ash was quick to point out. ‘And it’s better than any song I’ve ever recorded.’
He reached out to take her hand again, but this time she refused to take it.
‘Charley,’ he said, ‘I’m donating all the royalties from this song into a recovery fund for you.’
Charley was briefly lost for words. Then she snapped, ‘I’m not a charity case! Don’t pity me!’
‘I’m not,’ he replied, his tone wounded. ‘I just want to help you.’
‘Then leave me alone.’ Charley turned her head away and stared resolutely out of the window.
‘No, you’re my muse, remember? My inspiration. I have to take care of y–’
‘I said, LEAVE ME ALONE!’
Stunned by her hostile reaction, Ash sat motionless for a full minute, then stood up. ‘If that’s what you really want, Charley. But I won’t abandon you. The song is yours. The money too. And if one day it can help you walk, then it’ll be the greatest song ever written.’
With a longing last look at her, Ash left the room.
When he was gone, Charley sobbed her heart out. Why was she pushing away the only person she’d truly fallen in love with?
But she already knew the answer. Ash reminded her too much of all that she’d lost.
Through tear-filled eyes, she saw an update blink on her phone: FILE DOWNLOADED.
Slipping on her headphones and pressing play, Charley listened to the song – her song – and wept …
‘Why here in particular?’ asked Jason, pushing her wheelchair down the boardwalk of San Clemente pier. ‘There are other beaches far closer.’
‘I used to surf here,’ replied Charley sadly. ‘Used to.’
Foaming white breakers rolled in like familiar friends along the sandy strip of coast. But they passed her by on the pier
, like they’d forgotten who she was, no longer recognizing her.
And who’d blame them. She was a cripple in a chair.
Charley watched a young girl with blonde hair catch a wave and ride it all the way in. It could so easily have been her. But surfing was just a pipe dream now. Like everything else in her broken life, nothing was simple or easy any more. Just taking this trip down to the beach had been a mission. Climbing out of bed, going to the toilet, putting on clothes, getting in and out of the car, negotiating the path, even making it up the shallow incline to the pier. It had been one major challenge after another. On this, her first excursion into the outside world, Charley was confronted by all the things she used to do effortlessly. Instead of celebrating her day out of hospital, she just felt an aching sense of loss.
The sight of the surfer girl was the final straw.
She began to cry.
Jason stopped pushing her. ‘Hey, Charley, what’s the matter?’
‘I-I’m not meant to be trapped in a chair!’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t dress or wash myself or even go to the toilet on my own. And I can’t walk, can’t surf – can’t do anything! I can’t stand another day of this. I simply don’t have the strength!’
Jason knelt down beside her, placing a hand on her knee. She could feel it now – just.
‘Charley,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve more strength and courage in your little finger than all of us boys together. What was it that philosopher said …? Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’
‘If that’s true,’ she retorted through clenched teeth, ‘I should be stronger than reinforced steel!’
But she certainly didn’t feel that way. Inside she felt as brittle and fragile as Styrofoam.
‘You are,’ said Jason, his gaze unwavering. ‘You overcame everyone to be the best in bodyguard training. You overcame every threat in every assignment. And you will overcome this setback. Nothing has stopped you before. Why should this?’
Charley didn’t answer him. Jason couldn’t possibly understand what she was going through. Only those suddenly paralysed could.
The two of them fell silent and Jason continued pushing her along the pier, the wheels of her chair rattling over the wooden boards. Charley felt every bump and jerk as she sat immobilized, a prisoner in her chair. She was surprised and touched that Jason had made the effort to visit her. But she was also cut up that Blake hadn’t come – he’d sent her a get-well card, but that was it. Jason had been right. She was better off without him … better off without anyone.
‘I hear once you’re fit, Colonel Black’s asked you to return and head up Alpha team,’ he said casually as they reached the end of the pier. ‘I think that would be good for you. Give you a focus. Have you thought about it?’
Charley gave a barely perceptible shrug.
‘For what it’s worth, I’ve asked to be part of Alpha team if you take up the offer.’
‘What? So you can be my legs for me?’ she said, more harshly than she intended.
‘No,’ said Jason, brushing off the sting in her words. ‘Because I think you’d do a great job, with all your experience.’
Charley glanced up at him. ‘I thought the colonel was going to put you in charge of your own squad.’
‘He was, but I want to be in the best team. Led by you.’
‘Listen, Jason, that’s very flattering of you. And I appreciate you flying over to see me. But … can I have some time alone?’
‘Sure,’ said Jason, flicking on the chair’s brake. ‘I’ll get us a drink.’
As he headed back down the pier, Charley gazed out at the shimmering blue ocean. She studied the thin line of horizon that separated sea and sky and waited for the telltale ripple that would swell into the perfect wave to ride.
It wasn’t long before a glistening ridge of sea rose up in the distance. Subtle at first but approaching with ever more promise. As the wave rolled towards the shoreline, Charley desperately wanted to throw herself off the pier and surf her way in. But that was impossible.
IMPOSSIBLE … I’M POSSIBLE.
The opening to Ash’s show flashed before her eyes and a small voice in her head spoke up. Who’s to say you’ll never surf again? It’s only yourself putting up barriers.
Charley pushed away the false seeds of hope. As the wave drew nearer, she took out the badge from her bag and clasped it in her palm: the gold winged shield of a guardian angel.
Who needs wings … to be an angel?
She’d come full circle. This was where her journey had begun – and where it would end.
She’d lost her best friend and her parents, and now the use of her legs. What more could life take from her?
Charley drew back her arm to toss the badge into the sea, but stopped in mid-throw. She stared once more at the gleaming gold badge, then pinned it to her shirt. Fiercely, she flicked off the wheelchair brake and used the strength of her own arms to turn and roll herself back down the pier. One thought in her head …
We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.
WILD: For the fans by the fans
An interview with Ash Wild
by Jessie Dawson
J: Your fans seem to always know where you are, and you’ve got so much power over them – can that be scary?
A: Yes, it’s crazy that fans start crying when they hear a song like ‘Kiss & Tell’, but at the same time I’ve written the song for them to react to emotionally. Do I sometimes fear the fans? There are situations that are overwhelming, but you get used to it and my bodyguard is always there to handle the situation if things get out of control.
J: Are there ever any moments when you’re on your own?
A: Yes, usually when I go to my hotel room at night and shut the door behind me. Then I’m all by myself. I usually don’t do much. Unless I’m inspired to pick up my guitar and write a new song.
J: Who are your musical influences?
A: I listened to a lot of Prince growing up. He is such a musical genius. In the future, people will remember him as the Mozart of our time. But I’ve always been one for classic rock music. You know, Guns N’ Roses, Foo Fighters, the Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath, Nirvana. Bands with big guitars but also an ear for great songs.
J: What was your inspiration for the song ‘Only Raining’?
A: I was in a pretty low place after my mum died. But I remember sitting in the garden just after a thunderstorm had passed and the sun came out and shone down on me. The whole garden sparkled with life. It was at that moment I realized that, however bad the storm, the rain will eventually pass and the sun shine through.
J: Who do you most admire in the world?
A: My aunt. She picked me up when I was at my lowest. Gave me a focus. Kay protects me as fiercely as a tiger. And in this business, believe me, you need protection.
J: Do you ever get stage nerves?’
A: Not at all. It’s like I was born to perform.
Only Raining
We all need a shelter to keep us from the rain
Without love we’re just laying on the tracks
Waiting for a train
When I miss you so much I can’t explain
I pray for the sun to come and chase the rain
Don’t you know that …
It’s only raining on you (only raining)
It’s only raining on you (only raining)
It’s only raining on you right now
But the sun will shine on through
You’ve begged for forgiveness
You long for the day
The brightest light to come shining through your door
And chase those clouds away
And I miss you so much I can’t explain
And I long for your touch to come and take the pain
Don’t you know that …
Chorus
You’re all I need
And all I see
Come set the sun in me, baby
You need time to breathe or maybe
Life owes me a thing or two
Chorus
Lyrics copyright © Ash Wild
My books have always included strong yet feminine heroines: Akiko and Miyuki in the Young Samurai series, Cho in my Ninja series, and of course Charley and Ling in my Bodyguard series. But Target is my first opportunity to write entirely from the perspective of a female lead character … and what a heroine Charley proved to be! I hope you enjoyed reading her adventure as much as I did writing for her.
So, with Charley in mind, I’d like to thank all the ladies who have had a major influence in my life. First and foremost, my mum – thanks for all your support, love and sacrifice. I am blessed to have you as my mother. Next and equally as important, my beautiful wife, Sarah, and the mother of my two whirlwind sons, Zach and Leo – I truly appreciate all the patience, love and tenderness you show me and the boys. And of course my dear departed Nan – you gave me a head start, steered me in the right direction and left me with words of wisdom that will last a lifetime. Your light forever shines in my heart.
Karen, as you know, I consider you a sister – thank you for being there for me through thick and thin, joy and sadness, and being a constant friend in my life.
Sam Mole, my awesome sister-in-law! And Sue Mole, a dream of a mother-in-law!
This book is dedicated to my gorgeous goddaughter, Lucinda Dyson. May you grow up strong, confident and happy. I’ll always be there for you.
Bodyguard: Target Page 31
