by Dani Atkins
The question seemed to hang in the thin rarefied antiseptic air of the corridor for the longest moment in time. ‘No, Mr Bertram. There’s nothing else. Nothing at all.’ I turned and walked away.
Three things shocked me when I returned to the ICU. The first was the small cluster of people with Theatre stencilled on the back of their green uniforms. They were loitering almost-but-not-quite out of sight beyond the nurses’ station. Joe’s final cortege had been assembled, and was now standing in wait.
The second shock was hearing Max’s voice, hoarse and broken, as he conducted his last one-sided conversation with the man he’d allowed to depose him as my best friend. ‘Financially – don’t even think about it. Not for a second, okay? That’s taken care of, alright?’ Max sighed deeply. ‘For everything else, all I can promise you is that I’ll be there for them. Always. Feel free to send a thunderbolt down on me, if I don’t do it just the way you want.’
I walked silently up to my friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jumped at my touch as though it were a live wire. ‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.’
‘Why? Because it’s bad to hear how much someone loves you?’ My hand went from his shoulder to rest on his cheek. I looked into his eyes, which were considerably more red around the edges than they’d been when I left the room. ‘I knew it anyway,’ I said gently, dropping a kiss on his forehead.
‘You should have been here a minute or two earlier, when I promised him I’d take Jake to Nashville as soon as he’s old enough.’
From somewhere I had almost forgotten existed, a small sad smile curved my lips. ‘Joe would like that.’
There was a long unspoken moment which Max eventually broke. ‘Did you say what you had to say to the surgeon?’
I nodded sadly. ‘I did.’ I took a breath to steady me. ‘I’d like to be alone with Joe now.’
Max got clumsily to his feet, banging into both a chair and the edge of Joe’s bed as he attempted to cross the room and reach the door. When he turned at the entrance it was easy to see why he’d stumbled. His eyes were blinded by tears. ‘Have a safe journey, big guy.’
And there was the last shock, because finally – after a day of tears – my eyes were now dry. I wasn’t numb to the pain, but something bigger was subtly edging those feelings aside. It took me a while to realise what it was. Love. I loved Joe too much to make this last moment we would share together full of misery and sorrow. That wasn’t how we were. That wasn’t us. To tarnish our final moments in that way would be wrong.
Very gently I raised his hand and grazed his unfeeling fingertips over the contours of my face. With my free hand I did the same to his. It felt as though I was sacredly binding our souls together. Imprinting the memory on both of us . . . so we could find each other again.
Behind my closed lids a kaleidoscope of snapshot memories spun past: our first kiss; the first time he had slowly peeled the clothes from my body; how his hands – normally so strong and confident – had trembled when he’d laid them on me, as though I was made of delicate spun glass, beautiful but fragile. The images shifted and I saw again the look in his eyes when I’d come to him. The passion taking us both by surprise. It still did . . . or rather, it had.
Finally the travelling caress of my fingers reached his mouth. I ignored the intrusive plastic tube, choosing only to see the smile that had belonged just to me. I bent to kiss his lips, still so pink, still so warm. They were unmoving, but in my heart and in my mind they were kissing me back, his arms were pulling me towards him and he was holding me close, so very close.
‘This isn’t where it ends, Joe. Not for us.’ My lips brushed his, as I breathed life into the promise that somewhere, against all odds, I knew he could hear. ‘I will see you again.’
Epilogue
The taxi pulled up in front of the impressive apartment building. Ally craned forward and looked upward towards the top floor. The glass in the windows of the penthouse suite glinted back at her in the bright June sunshine.
‘We’re here,’ she said to her travelling companion. His head was bent in concentration as he studied the electronic device in his hand. He looked up, pocketed the gadget and smiled at her. They waited until the taxi had pulled away before walking hand in hand towards the elaborate wrought-iron entrance gates. A security camera whirred into life as Ally studied the keypad entry system, searching for the familiar surname. As she reached out to press the top-most button her finger trembled slightly, and it came as no surprise that he noticed that. He watched her very closely these days. ‘Are you feeling alright? Are you nervous?’ he asked.
She shook her head, and then remembered how they had promised to always tell each other the truth. ‘Well, maybe a little.’
‘We don’t have to go in,’ he suggested.
For just a second she considered his words, before once again shaking her head. ‘Yes we do.’
Charlotte was pacing. She’d been back and forth to the glass double doors in the apartment’s entrance foyer at least ten times in the last half hour. She’d even pressed her ear to the gleaming silver keypad set discreetly into the wall, wondering if she’d be able to tell if it was malfunctioning. Her heels clipped on the shiny marble floor as she crossed to a table which held a tall vase of waxy, cream-coloured orchids, and her mobile phone. She checked the display screen, still expecting to see a last-minute text from Ally cancelling this meeting. There were no messages.
Would she have blamed her if she’d made some excuse not to come? In all fairness, probably not. Despite the many phone calls between them over the last six months, this would be the first time she had met with Ally since that dreadful night in the hospital last December. So much had happened since then. Charlotte wasn’t the same person any more, and from what she could tell, neither was Ally. It was hardly surprising. What they’d both been through would have changed anyone.
The new Charlotte was softer than the old one, more tolerant and less exacting. She left work on time these days, and made sure her staff did too. When you get close enough to a yawning precipice to feel the wind buffeting your face, only a fool wouldn’t recognise it as the bringer of change. The biggest surprise – for both her and Ally – had been the burgeoning and unexpected friendship that had woven between them. As subtle as a spider’s web, neither had seen it forming, but suddenly it was there, gossamer fine but already surprisingly strong.
The screen set in the control panel flickered into life and Charlotte saw the image of her visitors displayed on the wall. The breath caught in her throat. She buzzed them in from the street and then followed their progress on the monitor as they crossed the small courtyard and climbed the steps towards the building’s main entrance. She hesitated for just a moment. When she pressed the button beneath her poised finger, she would be doing so much more than allowing Ally entry into her building; she’d be giving her entry into her life too. Did she want that? Could she even handle it? Charlotte closed her perfectly made-up eyes for a long second. Then she pressed the button.
‘This is fancy,’ Ally observed, as they entered the building and two gleaming bronze lift doors slid open directly in front of them. Her companion shrugged, and Ally wasn’t in the least bit surprised that he didn’t appear overly impressed. The lift had no buttons. It was programmed to know which of the building’s residents had ushered them in and which floor they required. Each storey housed only a single residence.
The glide up to the tenth floor, the penthouse floor, was too short to allow Ally to change her mind, but just long enough for her to question if this was really a good idea after all. The lift came to a smooth, practically imperceptible stop, the doors slid apart, and there stood Charlotte.
The two women hesitated for an uncomfortable moment, before deciding to hug. It was a little clumsy and awkward, but that was perfectly understandable, given the circumstances. Charlotte’s eyes went to the person standing beside Ally. He was taller than she had been expecting him to be, and dressed casually in shir
t and jeans. If he was at all nervous or wary about this meeting, he certainly hid it well.
This was her home, her territory, yet Charlotte suddenly felt wrong-footed and ill at ease. She’d spent all day getting ready for this. The fridge was overflowing with a variety of food she’d bought from several local delicatessens. There were artisan loaves of bread and an assortment of cream cakes waiting in her kitchen. There was wine in the cooler and a range of soft drinks in the cupboard. She had no idea what to serve or what to buy – so she’d bought everything.
A flicker of movement caught Ally’s eye. The apartment was enormous and the huge living area opened out onto a spectacular balcony which ran the entire width of the room. The folding glass doors leading to the outside area were pushed wide open, and a tall dark-haired man turned away from the vista of the city skyline and came towards them. Ally’s hand was suddenly gripped by the boy beside her.
‘Please come in, both of you,’ urged Charlotte. If she said anything else, Ally never heard it; she couldn’t hear anything above the thunderous beating of her heart. Suddenly she was racked with doubts about all of this. Was this a terrible idea? Was it far too soon for any of them to be doing this?
David stepped across the threshold from the balcony and into the room. He looked strong, healthy and vibrant. This was not the same man Ally had last seen in the hospital: frail, gasping for breath and hooked up to a barrage of machinery. This man seemed full of life and vitality. For just a single second, Ally wondered if she should resent him for that.
‘Hello Ally,’ said David gently. ‘I’m really glad you decided to come today. Thank you.’ Ally inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. ‘And you must be Jake,’ David said looking down at his son for the very first time. There was no hand held out to shake, nor arms held open for a hug. Instinctively he must have known that neither greeting would have been appropriate. David’s voice appeared perfectly composed, but for the women in the room, who knew him so well, everything he was feeling was there in his eyes.
Jake took a small step forward and stared up at his natural father for a long moment. ‘You look like me,’ he stated quietly.
David’s smile was achingly familiar to Ally. She knew it from her past, from her memories, and she also knew it because it was her son’s smile too.
‘No, not really,’ replied David easily. ‘You’re much better looking.’
‘Ally please sit down,’ insisted Charlotte. Ally had wanted to stay as close to Jake’s side as possible, but Charlotte practically folded her into a deep comfortable settee with butter-soft leather upholstery. ‘Let me get you a cushion, or something,’ Charlotte fussed, hurrying off into another room. Her anxiety to make her guest comfortable was having the exact opposite effect.
For a man unaccustomed to children, David seemed to understand perfectly how not to overwhelm them. He turned his attention to his former girlfriend. ‘How are you, Ally? You look extremely well.’
Ally gave a small self-deprecating laugh, dismissing the compliment, but he wouldn’t allow her. ‘Seriously Ally. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful.’
Charlotte returned to the room, carrying a small cushion in her arms. Her steps faltered for just a moment as she heard David’s words, and a fleeting sadness shadowed the smile she pinned in place. ‘I agree,’ she added. ‘You are positively glowing.’
Ally bit her lip, knowing just how hard that must have been for her to say. Charlotte slipped the cushion behind her back and Ally smiled gratefully, as her hands instinctively came to rest against her swollen abdomen. As if she knew it was an important moment, the unborn baby girl within her, Joe’s daughter, kicked firmly against Ally’s palm. Charlotte saw the movement through the fabric of Ally’s dress, and although shock and surprise showed on her face, there was no envy there.
‘You look well too,’ Ally told David.
‘I am well,’ he confirmed. ‘Better than I ever thought I would be.’ He paused, as though unsure as to whether or not he should complete his sentence. ‘Thanks to you.’
Ally closed her eyes against the prickling tears, and the expensive penthouse flat disappeared and became instead a hospital corridor on a long December night that had tied their lives together irrevocably. She heard the echo of the surgeon’s voice. ‘Is there anything else you wished to say or ask, Mrs Taylor?’
She had said no. She had even walked half a dozen steps away before turning back around, as she had always known that she would. ‘I’ve heard there’s something called Designated Donation. If it does exist, there’s a man downstairs in Intensive Care. His name is David Williams . . .’
Mr Bertram had made no guarantees at that point. All he had said was that he would look into it. But while Ally was crying in Max’s arms on the taxi journey back home from the hospital, David was already being prepped for surgery.
David sat down on a wicker banquette on the balcony, and after an encouraging nod from his mother, Jake joined him. ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you,’ Jake said at last.
‘David sounds good to me,’ his father replied.
Jake, who had been intently studying the laces of his trainers, raised his head and there was patent relief in his eyes. ‘Oh, okay. I . . . I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be called Dad, or Father, or something like that.’
David glanced over at Ally, and his eyes were kind. He leant a little closer to his son. ‘I’m not your dad, Jake. And I’m never, ever going to try to pretend that I am, or try to take his place. Your dad’s name was Joe, and he was a really great guy, and I’m only sorry that I never got to meet him. I know how much you must miss him.’
Jake nodded fiercely, as the trainer laces drew his attention once more.
‘But he’s not gone, you know, not really. A part of him will live on for ever.’
Jake looked up, comprehension dawning. He raised his hand and pointed towards David’s chest. ‘You mean in there?’
David’s smile was achingly sad as he slowly shook his head. ‘No. I mean in there,’ he corrected, pointing instead at Jake’s chest. He paused and looked over once more at Ally, whose own face was a mixture of surprise and admiration. ‘I know you’re old enough to understand that you and I are related. Maybe you even know that officially I’m what is called your biological father. But your dad was Joe Taylor. He was the one who changed your nappies when you were little, made you better when you were sick, and picked you up when you skinned your knees falling down.’
‘He did all the gross stuff,’ confirmed Jake.
David laughed softly. ‘Yeah, but he did the good stuff too. He played with you, he had fun with you, and he helped make you into this smart, super, amazing boy that you are today. And that’s how he gets to live on,’ David concluded quietly. ‘Because he lives on in you.’
Ally had no idea if David’s words had been rehearsed or whether they had been just a brilliantly apt off-the-cuff sentiment. It didn’t matter. He had struck exactly the right note.
‘I don’t want to be your dad,’ David repeated. ‘Because whether he is here, or whether he isn’t, you still have a pretty amazing man who deserves to keep that title. But what I really would like to be,’ he admitted, bending down a little lower to Jake as he spoke, ‘is your friend. If you’d let me.’
‘I guess that would be okay,’ Jake agreed, looking over at Ally and being rewarded with a proud, yet tearful smile.
Jake bit his lip nervously, as he wrestled with a question he didn’t know if he should ask. ‘Can I . . . can I see it? The scar from your operation, can I see it?’
‘Oh Jake, I really don’t think—’ began Ally, struggling to get up from the couch which had all but swallowed her in its cushions.
‘It’s okay,’ said David quietly. His eyes went first to Charlotte and then to Ally in reassurance. ‘I don’t mind.’ He got to his feet and brought his hands up to the line of buttons of his shirt. His strong tanned fingers slowly released each one from its fastening, inch by
inch exposing his muscular torso. He didn’t shrug out of the shirt, just opened it wide enough so that the narrow line down the centre of his chest was visible. The soft dark hair which covered him and arrowed down towards the waistband of his jeans, had not grown back over the long red line, although the skin appeared perfectly healed. Jake slid off the seat and went to stand before him, his eyes transfixed on the scar.
‘May I touch it?’
David nodded. Ally and Charlotte exchanged a look. Ally’s hand unconsciously went to cradle her bump, but the other reached out to the woman standing beside her. Charlotte gripped it tightly.
David made it easier for Jake by dropping down to a crouch before him. Jake’s hand bridged the last small distance between them. Very tentatively he placed his index finger at the top of the red scar line and slowly ran it down the length of the healed breastbone.
‘Does it hurt?’
David shook his head. ‘Not any more. It’s a good heart. A really strong one.’
Jake nodded, as though this was something he had always known. He ran his finger once more up the line, slowly, almost reverently. Under his young fingertips the heart beneath his touch pounded strongly.
‘Hi Dad. It’s me,’ he whispered.
Very gently David covered Jake’s small hand with his own. ‘He hears you Jake, I know he does.’
It wasn’t a conventional family. It certainly wasn’t a normal one. But as the three adults looked at each other over the head of the young boy, they each recognised that that is what they were. A family. For years their lives had been tied together by destiny and by fate in ways that were at times too incredible to believe possible. But somehow every moment of strange serendipity had been leading them here. To this time, to this place, to these people, and this future.
Acknowledgements
I have come to realise that when you type ‘The End’ after you have finished writing a book, it isn’t the end at all; it’s actually the beginning. Because that is when some very talented individuals take over and turn your words into the book you always hoped it would be. I would like to thank my wonderful editor Jo Dickinson and every one of the dedicated and enthusiastic team at Simon & Schuster for their warm welcome and for helping to create something very special.
