“That’s right Izzy you are mine, only mine and it is my fucking name you scream when you come.”
He slows down but he puts so much force behind his slow thrusts until the last one makes him shake and growl my name in return before collapsing in a heap on top of me. I’m savouring the heavy feel of him, covering every inch of my body, so I wrap my arm around him and just hold on for dear life.
This man saved me from pretending any more. He knows pretty much everything there is to know now. The details will come later. For now, I’m safe and I feel secure. I can face anything. The relief of not having to pretend anymore is overwhelming. As if knowing where my thoughts are heading, Declan holds me tighter against him and whispers in my ear…“Always.”
Epilogue
It’s snowing. Not the normal freezing and horrible sleet kind though, it’s the proper big fat snowflake kind; the silence of cotton balls dropping from the sky is deafening. It’s beautiful. Strangely it doesn’t feel cold at all. I thought it would but all I feel is the beauty and the silence as we wait for the coffin to arrive. We arrived early, wanting to be here before the funeral director got here with Dad’s coffin. I’m savouring the silence, closing my eyes, tilting my head back to feel the flakes on my face. Weightless. The only feeling is the soft wetness as they melt the second they touch my warm skin.
Declan squeezes my hand. A silent question asking me if I’m okay. I squeeze it back, yes, yes I am. I look to my side and squeeze Mum’s hand asking her the same thing. Mum smiles at me. She’s okay. The tears silently falling from her eyes tell a different story, but I would struggle to interpret it. Max, Aiden and Connor stand behind us with Sofia. All in black; the only colour in a line of black is Sofia’s pink bobble hat, scarf and gloves. It’s been just over a month since Dad died. Once we received the Coroner’s report and the fire investigation report, Dad’s body was released to the funeral director hired to plan his last journey. Mum was still recovering at the time so I was left to make the decisions and register his death. Sofia helped me choose the coffin, hymns and flowers. Dad will be buried in his parent’s family plot near Oxford. As an only child he’ll be buried with his parents.
Mum left hospital a week ago and despite looking frail, she’ll make a full recovery with only scars to remind her. There’s a fighting spirit in her eyes and I know who put that there. The same man who helped me find mine, who set me on the road to live again by letting me come to terms with what’s happened. I owe so much to Dr McGrath. I’ll be forever indebted to him.
The hearse arrives at the village church and draws up next to us by the wooden archway with the wonky gate, separating the path from the road. We are in the middle of nowhere; right in the heart of the English countryside. The country lane has been iced and gritted though and I wonder if this is in preparation for the funeral today.
The church bells ring us in just as the snow stops falling. The grey sky stays though, as it waits for the next storm to pass. The atmosphere is eerie but then, so is the occasion.
Declan tightens his hand in mine as the driver steps out of the car and walks over to us. He nods and shakes everyone’s hands and then Declan, Aiden, Connor and Max follow him to the back of the hearse. No one could have been more overwhelmingly surprised than me when the lads offered to carry Dad’s coffin in.
I was sitting one night with Sofia in the kitchen, going through the checklist and wondering out loud who’d carry him into the church and to the burial plot. Dad didn’t have any friends; we have no family to speak of so when I said there was no one to carry him in, the guys stepped up. They all knew the kind of man he was, so I knew this offer was them doing something for me; wanting to show me their respect and their friendship I suppose. I still remember the lump in my throat and my difficulty speaking as I hugged every single one of them. They roped Connor in too and I was amazed when he agreed.
To the sounds of sombre melodic bells and freshly fallen snow, Mum, Sofia and I follow behind Dad as he‘s carried into the church on four strong shoulders. The service is short. There’s not much to be said and the echoes of the ministers voice as he reads the Lord’s prayer in an almost empty church, bounces off the walls and stained glass windows.
All of us stand up to sing ‘Ave Maria’ and then the service is over before it really began. I requested ‘Jerusalem’ to be played as Dad’s coffin is carried out. This song has always had a very special place in my heart. Zack loved it too. I get goose bumps and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up whenever I hear it; it squeezes my heart.
We walk to the family plot where the open grave is waiting. Funerals are emotional for anyone. Even if you don’t really know the person, you can’t help but cry or at least feel that shiver and lump in your throat. I’m standing between Mum and Declan just staring at that hole in the ground. I’m burying my Dad today. People talk about what they want to get out of life. All I ever wanted from life was love and no pain. I wonder what Dad’s answer would’ve been when he was my age. When you bring it back to basics, what is there to life? At what stage do we forget our way and change? Do we not realise we’ve changed until we recognise it’s lost?
Declan tightens his arm around me and I lean against him, resting my head on his chest as I see the coffin being lowered into the grave. The minister is chanting as the coffin disappears, until we can no longer see it. He signals for us to come up and place our offerings into the grave. Mum chose rosemary tied in a lilac silk ribbon from her wedding bouquet. I understand her sentiment. A remembrance of a better time. I’m up next. Walking on unsteady feet I reach the edge and look down. This moment is bigger than me and I feel dizzy. I gently drop my bunched thyme and say goodbye. Declan pulls me into him and we walk back to Mum. I notice the grave diggers leaning up against a nearby tree. Waiting for their turn.
It’s over. It’s the end of a life lived in fear and pain. It’s done. Does happiness follow? I really hope so, I wish it for Dad too. Maybe finally. The taxi’s we booked earlier are waiting in the lane outside the front of the church, ready to take us to the village pub for some much needed brandy. In the past, when I’ve been to funerals, people will go to the pub after the service and over a ham sandwich and a pint they’ll reminisce about the loved one or friend who passed away. Well, I‘m sitting here in complete silence as is everyone else, around a worn and scratched wooden table. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and I hate it. I stand and walk over to the waitress station to get some menus because I’m sure everyone is getting hungry and I want to feed the lads for everything they’ve done for Mum and me today.
We all order food and after a while, once everyone has a few drinks in them, we get talking. Not once does Dad get mentioned though. But he’s still on my mind; like a persisting ticking clock.
We all get a people carrier taxi to take us the hour drive back home. I managed to get a great deal and this way everyone could have a drink. We’ve just arrived outside Mum’s, as she’s being dropped off first. Rather than get out she looks behind from the front seat at us.
“Izobel, I need to give you something, can you come inside with me for a minute before you go on home?” I wonder what it is as I follow her into the house. Mum had an industrial cleaning company come and clean up after the fire. The back is still sealed off as it needs to be rebuilt before she puts it on the market. Mum wants to move and I can’t say I blame her. I’m going flat hunting with her as soon as she is ready.
“So honey, I’m not sure you’re aware but I’ve been sent papers and personal belongings from your Dad’s solicitor. It seems as though he had a new will written and some things put aside in the event of his death.”
She passes me a brown box which has been sealed with heavy duty duct tape. On the top of the box there’s a label that clearly states: For Izobel on it in Dad’s handwriting. My heart skips a beat.
“Take that home with you and open it in your own good time darling; I have no idea what’s in it, so I can’t prepare you.”
“I wonde
r what it is Mum?” My voice is barely audible.
“I don’t know honey but I’m right here if you need me once you’ve opened it. Thank you for planning today my lovely girl; your Dad despite everything, would have been proud. I was proud. I love you Izobel.”
“I love you too Mum; I’ll ring you okay,” I say, as I leave and go back to join the others in the waiting taxi. We get home and as it’s still early evening, everyone but Declan and I go down to the local for a last pint. Declan and I go upstairs and sit on the bed with the box in between us. I wonder if this is how a bomb disposal team feel like. I have no idea if this parcel is dangerous or not; what it’ll do to me; what it is.
“Are you going to open it?” Declan asks, taking my hand and gently stroking it with his thumb.
“I’ll be honest and say I’m freaking out here Declan; I’m too scared to.”
“Well, there’s nothing to say you have to open it now Izzy, you can wait till you feel ready, there’s no rush.” He reaches over to pull my face to his, giving me a heart stopping sweet and gentle kiss of reassurance.
“No…no, I’ll never be ready and it’ll always be here, so I’m going to open it now.” I begin to peel the tape back; achingly slowly and I’m sure I’m annoying the hell out of Declan for it. Once I have all the tape removed I slowly unfold the cardboard sides and immediately my insides hurt. I feel sick. Running to the bathroom with my hand clamped across my mouth I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. All this time….he had it all this time.
“Shhh sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m going to go get you a glass of water okay?”
I sit down on the floor in the bathroom and wait the dizziness out. Declan comes back in with a glass of water which I down in one before I stand up and brush my teeth to get the horrible taste away.
“Did you look in the box Declan?” I ask him when I’ve finished.
“No, if you want to show me then you will, it wasn’t my place to.” He pulls me in for a hug and buries his face in my hair.
“Let’s go back upstairs; there’s something I need to show you,” I say to him with a shaky voice. My hands feel clammy and sweaty; I’ve always wondered how you can feel so hot yet be covered in a cold sweat from pure adrenalin. That’s what this is; what it feels like; the adrenalin spikes through my veins as two nights collide and come back to haunt me. All that is left of it, currently sitting in a cardboard box on my bed.
I sit down in the middle of the bed next to the box. Declan moves to sit behind me so my back is resting against his front; his long muscular legs on either side of me acting like a barrier.
“Before I open this Declan, will you listen to something for me? I haven’t got the strength to tell you myself, so will you listen to my story instead? This’ll make so much more sense to you then.”
“I’d do anything for you beautiful, you know that but I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he says sounding almost frustrated.
“Dr McGrath taped a session where I told him all about the night Zack died and what’s in that box is what sparked it all, but it’s so very precious to me and I thought it was broken and lost forever.”
Declan goes to get his dictaphone from his music case and I find the tape for him to play. We get back into the same position but as my voice from the tape fills the room he leans his head down on my shoulder and nuzzles my neck, his arms getting tighter and tighter around me, the further along in my story we get.
Hearing my own voice re-telling my past is incredibly surreal. It doesn’t sound like me at all. My voice is weak with no affectation. Declan’s breath speeds up and his hands close into fists around me.
I’m so glad I can’t see his face right now because the shame fills me up to the point of bursting. As soon as the tape is over, I press stop and move the dictaphone to the bedside table.
“My strong, brave and beautiful Izzy, come here sweetheart.” He pulls me back into him and rains kisses on me like he can’t get enough, like he can’t get close enough to me. “I love you so fucking much Iz, my heart can’t bloody stand the fullness of it. I’m sorry….so fucking sorry you had to go through this. But listening to this tape right here; I’m bursting with pride over your strength.”
I reach behind me to pull his face down. “I love you too Declan, and you gave this strength to me when you gave me you. I began my life again the day I met you. You saw me and gave me the butterflies back, my smile and my laughter, you gave me everything that had been missing, but most important of all, you gave me my strength, because you saw me and I understand that now.”
I slide the box closer with my fingertips, take a deep breath and on my exhale I pull out my ‘Fairy tale’ snow globe. It’s not broken, the sparkles still fall, the fairy still looks as if she’s floating. There are black marks running along the bottom and the glass is yellowed which I guess is from the fire. I can’t believe it survived; my ‘Fairy tale’ survived and I have it in my hand unharmed, unbroken.
“I don’t understand why he had it, he actually had it all this time. I thought it got broken and lost that night.” I move out of Declan’s arms and place the snow globe on the bedside table. I got a bit of Zack back tonight. Zack’s last gift to me, it survived.
With a deep shaking breath I remove the box from the bed and go pick up Declan’s guitar.
“Will you play something for me Declan?”
“Always Izzy, always. I’d do anything for you beautiful girl.”
While Declan plays ‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol I take my funeral clothes off under his watchful eyes and walk over to his chest of drawers to get one of his t-shirts out. I hold it up to my face for a second before putting it on. Declan smiles at me as I walk back to the bed and get under the covers. Lying here, I can’t help but think that this is the second time today I’m experiencing a moment that’s bigger than me; bigger than anything and everything. I love this man; he understands and he knows everything there is to know and he still loves me; he didn’t run. He didn’t let me run.
I start to feel tired and Declan realises I think, because he puts his guitar back and strips off his clothes before getting into bed with me.
“Come here sweetheart.” He moves me into his arms so my back is to his front. Moving my hair aside he kisses my scars now covered by beautiful script. I love this man, my Declan.
“You and me Izzy…Always. You’re Mine now beautiful girl.”
To Izzy, you have my heart
Your Declan
“You fell into my arms and then into my heart
And bound us together never to part
Those scars that you have left you broken in two
Now you are mine, I’ll wear them for you
Stare at the sun which burns as we stand
Then we’ll run through the fire as you take hold of my hand
Together we stand forever in time
And space the in between is all that is mine
I’ll be your strength when you’re weak in your bones
The glass in your house to stop all the stones
You’re the blood in my veins and life in my air
I promise to stay and always be there…
……For You”
THE END
Thank You
There are so many important people in my life and I want to thank each and every one of you for your encouragement, your faith in me, and your patience when I went missing in action. The fact that you are still here with me means the world. You know who you are and you know I love you for being in my life and for putting up with me.
I want to thank every musician and songwriter for giving us an escape and a place to go. For soothing us, making us excited and rejoice, making us strong, happy and sad. You bring us the world.
Thank you to every Author whose words have found a place in my heart. For making me believe and feel.
I also wish to thank every reader who picks up Broken Fairytale from the bottom of my heart. Izzy’s story was and i
s very important for me to tell and I hope you enjoyed reading about her journey.
For every voice, is an ear willing to listen.
“Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...It's about learning to dance in the rain.”
~ Author Unknown
About the Author
Nikola Jensen has always enjoyed reading and creating stories in her head. She finally decided to take the plunge and put her first story down on paper and independently published Broken Fairytale.
Nikola lives in the UK and is an avid music lover and when not reading or talking to the characters in her head, she can be found dancing around her lounge room to her favourite band¸ with iPod in hand.
Nikola would love to hear from readers and can be contacted through her Facebook page or email. You can also find her on Goodreads.
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