Absolution

by Amanda Dick

  “He said he wanted to talk to her.”

  “That’s some test you’re putting him through,” Jane said.

  “It wasn’t a test,” he said, sucking his bottom lip through his teeth as he prepared to defend himself. “Jack and I’ve had a lot of time this past week, to talk about stuff. It’s been… weird, but good, in a way. He says he’s staying, and the more I talk to him, the more I believe him.”

  “Seriously?” Jane frowned.

  He stared at the ring of condensation on the bar in front of him. “I saw them together, last Sunday afternoon. You should’ve been there – it was like before, like nothing had changed. She wants him to stay, and he wants to stay. It’s that simple.”

  “So what was tonight about then?” Jane asked.

  “Tonight was about getting her to realise that if she wants him here, she’s gotta start trusting him.”

  “You think it’s that easy?” Maggie prodded gently.

  “I didn’t say it was easy. I just think it’s the only way. Too many damn secrets, those two. It’s no way to live. They eat you up from the inside, out.”

  He took another swig of beer, swallowing slowly. He couldn’t get the image of Jack and Ally kissing out of his mind. She had never looked at him the way he had seen her looking at Jack that day.

  Talking with Jack these past few days, getting to know him again, he could see how torn up he was about what happened. He was the first to admit he had done the wrong thing by taking off, and he seemed happy to be punished for it – the fact that he had sought out that punishment recently had made that markedly clear. He also seemed determined to try and make it up to Ally somehow, and he didn’t seem to care how long that took or what he had to do. Hadn’t he given Ally the choice this time? And hadn’t she asked him to stay? It must have hurt like hell to put that decision in her hands, and it must have taken a leap of faith unlike anything he could even imagine for her to ask him to stay.

  That was love, pure and simple, as much as it ripped his guts out to admit it.

  He downed the last of his beer in one long gulp and stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You’re leaving?” Jane asked.

  “Yeah, got stuff to do.”

  “What stuff? Where are you going?” Maggie looked up at him.

  He pulled her into a quick hug. “I’m going home to kick the cat,” he murmured, releasing her.

  “But you don’t have a cat.”

  “Busted.”

  He gave them both a wry wave and made his way across the crowded room, past the jukebox and the guys playing pool, past the tables and the booths and out across what passed for the dance-floor, into the cool night air.

  All he wanted right at this moment, was a little peace, and for someone to tell him that he had done the right thing tonight. Not for the first time, he wished Tom were here.

  Jack waited for Ally in the small lobby, reclining on one of the old 1960s armchairs – all style and no comfort. The arms were chrome tubing and the springs had seen better days. Even the upholstery was worn, faded all over and ripped in places. He fidgeted, trying to get comfortable. He looked at his watch again. She did say she would be a while.

  After his self-imposed exile of the past few days, all he wanted was to be with her. Being without her for four years, he had convinced himself he could live that way, if he needed to. But now that he was home and she was here, he knew he had been fooling himself. The shell of the man he used to be had begun to fill out again – the broken soul and the shattered heart had begun to heal and he could feel the physical change within him. He was becoming complete again, a whole person, not merely fragments of someone he used to be.

  Kissing her tonight had been completely unplanned. He knew she would see his tattoo tonight, but he was completely unprepared for her reaction. Her heartfelt, honest observation had awoken in him the basic need to soothe her, protect her, keep her safe. He knew he could do it, too, if only he could convince her to let him.

  He had watched over his towel with mounting admiration as she pulled herself out of the pool. He didn’t really know what to expect, or how she would manage. He had briefly wondered if she was lying about not needing help, but it was clear she was more than capable. He was impressed with her strength and technique, managing the seemingly impossible with grace and dignity. He had wanted to tell her so, but she had taken off before he had the chance.

  He checked his watch again and stood up, stretching as he went to the noticeboard, gazing idly over the newsletters pinned there.

  Before the accident, Ally was a dynamo – always talking, forever in motion. Now however, she was reined in somehow. Tethered, controlled. Something fundamental had changed, not physically, but mentally. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. How did she see him now? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  The door behind him opened and he turned to see Ally making her way through the door towards him, now wearing dark jeans and a sweatshirt, her gym bag on her lap. He smiled and walked over to retrieve his own bag off the floor.

  “Shall we go?” he pulled open the outer door for her.

  She gave him a weak smile, pushing herself through the door and out into the parking lot. The air was cool compared to the warmth of the pool building, and he shivered involuntarily.

  “So, where do you want to go?” she asked as they made their way across the parking lot towards her car. “My place? Or do you want to go out somewhere? Barneys is probably still open.”

  He shrugged as they neared her car. “Your place is fine. I’d say my place, but I need to go to the supermarket and stock up on food first.”

  “I’m so glad the gas problem’s been fixed. You must be looking forward to going home.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a lie. He was looking forward to going home.

  As they approached her car, two men materialised out of nowhere. One grabbed him and pushed him back against her car. A knee rammed tight against his and a forearm thrust hard up against his throat so he could barely breathe. Gasping, he stared desperately past the face inches from his own. The other guy stood next to Ally, arms folded across his chest. His heart sank.

  “Well, hello there,” growled Jimmy, his gravelly voice the result of years of smoking. “Small world isn’t it?”

  Jack struggled in vain. The knee rammed tighter into his, the arm across his throat pressing harder. It was difficult to breathe, much less speak.

  “You’re a hard man to find, Jack. But you didn’t really think you’d be able to hide in this little shit-hole of a town forever, did you?”

  Jack’s eyes were on Ally, silently begging for understanding. She stared back at him, wide-eyed, her hands gripping the rims of her chair. Jimmy stood just beside her, within striking distance, but he didn’t appear to be paying her any attention.

  “How’d you find me?” Jack croaked, his throat burning.

  “Not really your concern. I’m here now, that’s the important thing.” Jimmy moved to stand behind Ally, his huge hands resting on her shoulders. “We got a little business to discuss, you and me. Ben says you owe him; I’m here to collect. It’s simple really, when you think about it. Very straightforward. Ben doesn’t like complications – and you, my man, are a complication.”

  Jack winced as the arm against his throat pushed harder. “How much?” he croaked.

  “Ten grand.”

  Jack’s heart tried to jump out of his throat but was blocked by the arm threatening to crush his windpipe. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Well you’ve got forty-eight hours to get it. Ben’s not a guy you want to disappoint, Jack, as you well know.”

  The guy holding Jack released him just long enough to drive a hammer blow into his solar plexus, winding him instantly. Ally cried out as he doubled over in pain. The guy dragged him upright again and shoved him back against the car, making the pain worse.

  Suddenly, Ally cried
out, her upper body arching upwards as her eyes widened in pain. Jimmy’s mouth curved into a cold smile.

  “Get your hands off her!” Jack croaked, renewing his struggles.

  Jimmy’s eyes were dead and black as coal. “Or we could come back and take this pretty little doll for a ride she’ll never forget – how ‘bout that for an alternative?”

  Ally sat poker straight and perfectly still, Jimmy’s fingertips still buried in her shoulders. Jack saw red. He twisted and squirmed, breathing heavily as he fought to get free and knock Jimmy clear into next week. Finally, the guy holding him tired of the game and head-butted him. Jack’s vision swam as he fell forward. He kissed the concrete, loose stones digging into his face as the world around him faded.

  He came to, dragged roughly upwards, aware of Ally begging desperately for them to leave him alone. He tasted blood. His head lolled forward and he fought to keep it on top of his neck.

  “It’s okay,” he mumbled, his vision still hazy. “It’s okay.”

  “What a hero,” Jimmy sneered. “Ten grand, forty-eight hours. Got that?”

  Jack tried to nod but his head felt like it was going to separate from his shoulders. He spat out a mouthful of blood directly onto the guy holding him. Taking exception, the guy swore at him and slammed his fist into Jack’s face.

  Jack’s legs gave out and he slid down the side of the car, his ears ringing. As many times as he had fought in the ring, he couldn’t ever remember getting a whipping that felt anything near as bad as this. He gasped for breath, crouching on the concrete.

  Ally!

  Jimmy grabbed a handful of his shirt, yanking him upright as Jack struggled to find his feet.

  “Stop it!” Ally pleaded frantically, crying now. “Please leave him alone!”

  “Aw, she’s a keeper, Jack. She seems to have a thing for you,” Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head before turning serious once more. “We know where you live and we know where she lives, so don’t try anything stupid like calling the cops because we’re watching you – both of you. Be smart about this Jack, and no one gets hurt.”

  Jack blinked away the haze he was looking through, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “Why did he send you?” he questioned, struggling to keep his head in the game. “Why didn’t he just come get me himself?”

  “That would be none of your business,” Jimmy said coldly. “But let’s just say that if it gets out that he let you get away with ripping him off, it’s over for him – so you can bet your ass he’s taking this little situation very seriously. You know me, Jack. I know you do. Don’t push me.”

  Jack blinked, blood seeping down into his eye from the stinging cut to his head. Jimmy scrutinized him, pushing him away, sending Jack stumbling backwards.

  “Ten grand, forty-eight hours,” Jimmy repeated. “I’ll let you know where.”

  With one final soulless glance in Ally’s direction, both men walked away, leaving Jack teetering on his feet. Ally sniffed and he turned to look at her, his head throbbing.

  “Are you alright?” she whimpered.

  “I’m fine.”

  The dim lighting in the parking lot made her look pale and small.

  “You don’t look fine,” she said, her chin trembling. She reached out a hand to him, grimacing.

  “Never mind me – are you alright? Did he hurt you?” He stumbled the few steps to her side, falling to his knees awkwardly as he grabbed her chair to keep himself from falling forward.

  Tears stained her cheeks but she shook her head. “I’m okay. Who were those guys?”

  His heart sank and he silently begged her not to do this to him now, not while his head still spun and he could barely string two thoughts together.

  “Come on,” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He tried to find the words to tell her how sorry he was but he came up grossly inadequate. She helped him stand slowly.

  “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “I don’t need to see a doctor, I’ll be okay,” he insisted, even as his head felt like it was going to split in two.

  “For once, please just do as you’re told?”

  He stared down at his shirt, his body aching, his head throbbing. Blood was spattered down the front of it. Too tired and too sore to argue, he followed her slowly to her car.

  CHAPTER 21

  “You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it.”

  - Margaret Thatcher

  Ally drove slowly. The muscles in her shoulders burned and the thought of Jimmy’s huge hands on her made her skin crawl. She glanced briefly over at Jack, but his gaze was firmly fixed on the road ahead.

  What the hell is going on here?

  It felt like something out of a movie – heavies turn up, demanding cash or else. Ten thousand dollars was a lot of money – how had he racked up that much of a debt? What had he done?

  She stole another glance at him, her gaze lingering briefly on the blood clotting on the side of his head. Where would he find that kind of money in forty-eight hours? She replayed what she had seen and heard, trying in vain to fit the puzzle pieces together as they approached her street.

  They’re watching my house.

  She peered at every parked car and up every side street, slowing down to a near-crawl. Nothing looked out of place. They could be anywhere. Goosebumps pricked her skin.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack run a hand over his mouth, scrutinizing his hand briefly.

  She pulled into her driveway slowly, turning off the ignition. Leaning back against the head rest, she closed her eyes. She felt branded – like Jimmy’s fingers had burned her skin, seeping into the muscles. Wincing, she tried to wipe the image from her mind.

  “I still think you should see a doctor,” she said, turning to Jack.

  He sighed, deep and long, as if the weight of the world were resting on his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

  She heeded the silent caution and waited. He didn’t move for several moments and she shivered as the night air began to leach into the car.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally, turning to her. “I never wanted you to get involved in any of this.”

  Angry red marks shone just above his collar and his eyes seemed hollow, somehow. He looked like a man with a death sentence hanging over his head and the analogy made her uncomfortable.

  “I’ll figure out a way to fix this,” he promised huskily. “Please – just trust me.”

  She desperately needed answers but she didn’t dare ask him anything because he literally looked like he was hanging onto sanity by his fingertips.

  “Let’s go inside,” she said.

  The air of fatality that surrounded them was palpable. Jack eased out of the car as she unpacked her wheelchair, reassembling it slowly, her shoulders aching.

  Transferring into the chair, they made their way up to the house. Glancing behind her as she unlocked the door, she got her first decent look at his battered face in the porch light and froze, her hand on the key in the lock.

  “That looks really nasty. I mean it, you have to let me clean that up,” she insisted. “No arguments.”

  He didn’t seem to have any. She pushed the door open, pulling herself over the threshold. Jack made his way into the living room, a low moan escaping as he sat down on the couch.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered, even though he didn’t look capable of it.

  In the bathroom, she dug the first aid kit out of the cupboard along with a clean, damp washcloth, and a towel. Piling everything onto her lap, she made her way through to the bedroom and picked up a small bottle of water and the painkillers from her bedside table, adding them to the mounting pile as she headed for the living room. Having a purpose helped to keep the fear at bay, and she hung on to the mental list in her head, repeating it over and over.

  First aid kit. Washcloth. Towel. Painkillers. Water.

  Jack sat on the couch where she’d left him, staring at th
e floor. He looked so much the worse for wear, and it wasn’t just the blood. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, he looked too fragile to survive a proper conversation. She positioned herself in front of him and began to unload the contents of her lap onto the coffee table.

  “Look at me,” she instructed gently, her attention consumed by the angry lump on his forehead.

  Doing as he was told, his eyes finally met hers and it felt like entire conversations took place without either of them uttering a word aloud. The pain she saw went deeper than physical pain, cutting to the very core of him. It was raw, as if it had been dragged to the surface kicking and screaming, and it stared back at her, shocked to be so close to the light once more.

  She tried to concentrate on his wounds and not the look of pure desolation before her, as she began dabbing gently at them.

  His face contorted in pain as she wiped away the blood from his face, trying not to aggravate the rapidly rising bruises. She gently applied antiseptic cream, working slowly and methodically.

  Finally, she dried off her hands on the towel. “Can you pass me that bottle of pills?”

  Obediently, he did as he was told, unable to hide the grimace as he reached for it.

  Satisfied, she sat back. “Take one of those,” she said, nodding at the bottle in his hand as she handed him the bottled water to wash it down with.

  “I don’t need –“

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  She could see him arguing the point in his head, but he relented and tipped a pill out into his palm, swallowing it with a gulp of water. About to hand the bottle of pills back to her, he looked at it closely, frowning. “These are prescription.”

  “Yes, they are. They’re pretty good, too. It’ll take the edge off.”

  She busied herself putting everything back into the first aid kit, folding the towel on her lap and putting it onto the coffee table, bloodied washcloth on top. Her shoulders ached but she daren’t let it show.

  “What are these for?” he asked, indicating the bottle of pills still in his hand.

  “I told you, sometimes I have back pain.”