Thirty Days: Part Two

by Belle Brooks

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Note to the Reader

  What the Actual

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Hope

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  THIRTY DAYS: Part Two

  Published 2016

  ISBN 9780994634733

  ©2016 by Belle Brooks

  Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Obie Books, Po Box 2302, Yeppoon QLD Australia 4703.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All rights are reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in past in any form. This edition is published in arrangement with Obie Books Q.L.D.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Obie Books

  Po Box 2302

  Yeppoon Qld 4701

  AUSTRALIA

  Cover design by Soxie ©2016

  Formatted by Max Henry of Max Effect

  Editing and Proofreading by Karen Harper and Emily A Lawrence.

  For Kylee, Kirsty, and Caroline

  Thank you for supporting me on every journey so far in my life, for embracing me for who I am, accepting my quirks, and loving me regardless. For being three beautiful and sturdy shoulders to lean on—I couldn’t live without each of you.

  I’ll appreciate you forever.

  A NOTE TO THE READER

  This book has been written using UK English and contains euphemisms and slang words that form part of the Australian spoken word, which is the basis of this book’s writing style.

  Please remember that the words are not misspelled. They are slang terms and form part of everyday, Australian vernacular.

  November 11, 2012

  A cat has nine lives. Apparently, so do I. This god-awful hex seems to exclude my death.

  Am I invincible?

  As we plummet the final distance from the sky to the ground, my mind is blank—a black hole filled with nothingness. There are no more memories, no more faces, and no more thoughts. Just a partially lit field of grass fills my vision. Without warning, the plane levels out. It’s peculiar how in a split second we go from nosedive to steady. We float, then we’re nestled softly into thick overgrowth. No bumps or plods—we gently land.

  Do guardian angels really exist?

  “Abigail, are you okay back there?” The shaken tone of “The Captain’s” voice tells me we experienced this phenomenon together.

  “What the actual fuck just happened?” My jaw hangs open as my mind whirls.

  “To be honest, Abigail, I’ve no idea. It’s like this old girl was plucked from the sky like a mere toy and rested here. Never have I experienced anything like this before. Someone was looking out for us today, that’s for sure.” The Captain’s cheeks puff out when his aged face comes within sight. “Phew.” He exhales.

  “You can say that again.”

  “Phew…I think I just did.”

  We stare at each other in a way that tells me we’re both completely creeped the hell out. The hairs stand to attention on the back of my neck as my hand gently tries to brush them away.

  “Did that really happen, Captain?”

  His grey eyes blink a few times before he nods.

  “I think I’m invincible,” I mutter, still gobsmacked.

  Long, stiff grass stands waist-high as our feet meet solid ground. Dropping to my knees like a sack of potatoes, I kiss wherever my lips land.

  “I missed you, ground. Out of all you have to offer, Mother Nature—ground, you would have to be my very favourite. Never leave me again.”

  Delusional.

  “Steady on now, Abigail.” The Captain half-heartedly chuckles.

  “I frickin’ love this ground,” I shriek in appreciation.

  “Well, I can see that. Now get up, you crazy girl.”

  “I think I need to be flat. I need to lie down, Captain.” I exhale as my body is engulfed by the long strands of thick grass.

  “I think you’ve darn lost your marbles, lass. Come on, we need to start walking.” The Captain’s face hovers above mine as my carry on thuds, impacting the ground by my side.

  “Where are we going exactly? Hell, do you even know where to go?”

  “The plane’s navigation system tells me we are in sugar cane fields.”

  “How can you be sure, though? Is this navigation tool always one hundred percent?”

  “I’m pretty sure, Abigail.”

  “But how?” I moan.

  “Mainly because we are surrounded by sugar cane crops.” He struggles to contain his annoyance with my game of twenty questions.

  “Oh. So this isn’t grass?”

  “No, my dear, it’s cane. Now get up off the ground, grab your bag, and start walking.”

  “Shouldn’t you radio someone first? Let them know…I don’t know, that we’ve had a plane crash and we’re stranded?”

  “Already did, Abigail. I also sent a distress signal out when the propeller stopped working. They’re coming for us. Let’s try to get near a road, hey.”

  “Arrgghh. I don’t wanna move.”

  He clutches my arm tightly before pulling me upwards. Feet that instantly protest stand planted in place by his hold.

  “Stop being so stubborn and move, lass,” he says as the sun continues to rise.

  I heed his warning and finally give in. Our hike through this field is going to be long.

  Each foot lands in front of the other. The first rays that pierced the darkness had us hurtling towards the ground, but now we’re safe—lost, but safe. An array of blue and yellow undertones reflects more light as the day begins to take its form. The smell of sickly sweet cane turns my stomach as we move farther into what I can only assume is a massive maze. The Captain walks ahead of me—he’s fit for his age. He’s also very quiet. Right now I don’t need silence. I need reassurance.

  Does my life even have any positive direction? Or am I forever going to face an array of disasters being continuously flung my way?

  Trying to catch up to The Captain is harder than I thought, so I yell, “Hey, stop!”

  He does.

  “Could you please wait for me? Seriously, who are you? A frickin’ mountaineer?” I can hear his deep chuckle echoing around us as I try to run with this stupid bag flung over my shoulder. “I’m seriously so unfit,” I huff under my breath.

  “You okay?” He cocks his eye
brow as I finally stop by his feet.

  “I’m stuffed. Can we just wait here?” I puff like a runner who’s struggling to complete the beginning portion of a marathon.

  His lips arch. “No, we cannot.”

  “What about a piggy back?”

  “I’d love one.” His tone is bursting with sarcasm.

  “Stuff that. I meant me.”

  “I know what you meant, Abigail. Come on, you’re a young whippersnapper. You should be miles ahead of an old guy like me. Stop complaining and get a move on. The sun will be setting again before we make any ground if you keep dragging your feet.”

  “Fine,” I huff to myself before we continue on shoulder to shoulder. “So ‘The Captain’? How did you acquire such a title? I thought captain was used for ship pilots. Aye, aye, Captain Barnacle, take me to shore, me hearty.”

  “A comedian, hey?”

  “I wish. I just can’t stand the stillness right now.”

  “Fair enough. Well, my name is actually Captain… ‘The’ was added when I finished aviation school.”

  “You’re shitting me, right? Comedian, huh?”

  “Dead serious,” he snuffs in wittily before continuing. “My father thought Captain was a strong name for a man. A name that would guarantee respect and honour. I actually thought about becoming a ship’s captain. However, I have the worst sea legs, so it was never going to happen.”

  I smile broadly. “Captain…I think I love it. I will bestow this name on my first born son.”

  His smile is kind as his grey eyes soften. “I can see why Marcus likes you.”

  “Likes,” I comment dryly. “Loves, my new friend. He asked me to marry him once, you know.”

  “Really? He told you that?”

  “No. I remembered as the plane plummeted to earth.”

  “I see. So you’re getting your memory back? It’s taken you some time. I guess Marcus’ plan has worked after all.”

  “Say what? You know about my amnesia and the fact I forgot Marcus?”

  “Yes. You’re his Abigail.” These words are said as if they’re common knowledge.

  “So I’ve been told.” I shake my head as I try to remove the emphatic tone he used on his previous statement.

  “How are you coping with this new information, lass?”

  “Well, I fled and almost died, so I’m going to say, not too well.”

  “Almost died. Bit dramatic.” His nose scrunches before he scoffs.

  “Almost died,” I sing the words.

  “We all have our own versions of events, I guess.”

  “I’m cursed, you know,” I blurt out, not even expecting the words myself.

  “No such thing,” he grunts.

  “Damn straight, there is. I live it every day. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who removes hexes or unfortunate voodoo magic, would you?”

  The Captain’s eyes narrow and he looks at me like I’ve migrated from another planet. “No, Abigail, because those practices are utter rubbish.” He places his thumb and middle finger at the end of his eyebrows just before his head shakes. “Would you like me to tell you a story, Abigail?” he mumbles through pinched lips that scream frustration.

  “Ummm…okay.”

  “You see, Abigail, the world is a fickle place. Life can be cruel, but it can also be very kind. It can be hard to take at times, but it’s also filled with incredible beauty and wonder. Life really should be treasured and cherished—never referred to as a curse. Now I’m telling you, through all its highs and all its lows, you need to appreciate every minute of time you get to stay here. Hexes...pfftt. You silly girl.”

  I can’t help but hang off each word he says to me in a calm but scolding tone.

  “Now…love. Love is the best gift we receive here on Earth. Once we find its truest form, we should never let it go…not in anger, not even in hardship, and most definitely not when our memories fail us. Abigail—”

  “Sorry to interrupt you, but this isn’t really a story.”

  “Patience, girl.”

  “Okay,” I mouth.

  “Now where was I? Love. That’s right. If a person is your soul mate, it doesn’t matter how much time passes, or how little. Whether you’re separated by the largest plains or the deepest oceans, eventually the gap will close on its own and the only thing left in your path is a patch of grass or a puddle at your feet.”

  “There’s only a puddle now,” I whisper with an erratic pulsation in my chest.

  “Oh, by the look on your face right now, I’d say you’ve remembered Marcus’ last words to you. Does he know you’ve remembered?” His lip curls upwards in amusement.

  “I did. And he does.”

  “Well, you know the story already.”

  “But I don’t,” I bark, widening his smile.

  “Are you sure? It’s all in here, Abigail.” Three fingers tap gently at his temple. “You just have to close your eyes and want it.”

  “There’s a reason I chose to forget Marcus, Captain. Maybe you’re wrong and he’s not my soul mate. I’m actually not even sure soul mates exist.”

  The Captain sighs loudly before his gaze connects with mine, and we briefly stop our trek.

  “They do. I found my sweet Grace—she’s my soul mate, no doubt about it. You didn’t choose to forget yours, Abigail, you’ve just got scared, lass. This so called rubbish curse you speak of is controlled by your fear. Release the fear and it will be no more.”

  “Ha. Easier said than done. You see, this curse has been around a long time, well before Marcus,” I tut.

  “No, lass, it’s called inherited clumsiness. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Life. Slow reflexes. It’s what makes you uniquely special. Now stop your whining and live your life. There’s a reason our plane didn’t crash today, Abigail, and it’s not just my skill and experience that prevented it. Now stop this silly nonsense. We can’t be far.”

  “Wow,” I mutter before the sound of sirens in the distance reaches my ears.

  Unfinished Business

  Archer Phelps is the name of the police officer who dragged my sorry behind from the maze of hell, and the man who has the job of delivering me back to the Coast. We weren’t too far from our final destination in the end, only about an hour and a half by car. I refused any treatment when they found us and got scolded by The Captain for rolling my eyes at the mere mention of a trip into Nambour Hospital.

  I hate hospitals.

  Captain, on the other hand, decided a check-up would be in his best interests, mainly because he said his Grace would tear him a new one if he didn’t. I couldn’t help but burst into a fit of hysteria from such a statement. I guess he’s scared of his soul mate.

  We part ways with a gentle hug and four words from his lips, “Remember your story, Abigail.”

  My story.

  As Archer drives along the highway, various voices can be heard through the scanner inside the patrol car. The noise, pitches, and muffled tones have me shifting in my seat with irritation. Seated in the back, I try talking to Officer Phelps, but he’s not a chatty fellow. All I got was, “Try and get some rest.”

  How can I rest when adrenalin pumps furiously through my body? Hulk style.

  Closing my eyes, I try hard to remember my apparent story. It’s still blank. I can’t sleep. I’m uncomfortable and as every minute ticks by, I become mad to the point that my jaw aches from the pressure my teeth create grinding together. Not even the beautiful chartreuse scenery that whizzes by helps to bring me calm.

  Fuck you, curse.

  We make it into Maroochydore and the car travels at what now feels like a snail’s pace with our reduced speed. I see Archer’s olive-coloured eyes looking at me through the rear-view mirror. They are strange eyes, streaked with a silver undertone.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “Nope. Too much on my mind.” That’s not true. My mind is still blank. I just don’t want to admit how mad I am.

  “You’ll be home soon.”
/>   “About that…can you take me somewhere else?”

  “Where?” The intrigue in his tone is apparent.

  “Buderim Lawns Cemetery.”

  His eyebrow rises in the rear-view mirror. “Why there, Abigail?”

  “I want to see my dad. It’s where his body rests. Please?” My eyes squeeze shut as I pray for a yes.

  “You’ll have to stay there on your own. Can you get a lift home?”

  “I can.”

  “Buderim Lawns it is then.”

  I’m surprised that he’d allow it, but I guess I’m a grown arse woman, so why would he say no?

  The roads wind until we make the final left, pulling in under a large tree.

  “Take care,” Archer says before he opens the back door, freeing me.

  “You too, Officer.”

  The smell of fresh air in the open space is like the last time I was here, refreshing. Peace and tranquillity wrap around me comfortingly as I stroll past the lake. Stopping briefly on the foot bridge, I remind myself that before I knew my dad was a cheating bastard, I loved him with the entire volume of blood that pumps through my heart and to the remainder of my body.

  The question is, do I still love him that same way?

  Nestling down beside a small square rock on the ground, I run my fingers over the chiselled letters of his name for the second time in just over a week. Fletcher McMillian. Given what’s happened since my previous visit, I’m surprised by the sudden ache that now pounds heavily in my chest.

  “Lucy, hey,” I whisper in a way that disguises these words from prying ears. “Well, that was a surprise, Dad.” My head drops as I continue to caress his name. “You cheated on us. Me…Mum, why? Why would you do that to us?”

  Of course he doesn’t answer. He can’t, because the day he was taking me to deliver this bad news, the news of his infidelity, he died. Not from an aneurism like I’d been led to believe for so long, but because someone ploughed into our stationary vehicle and claimed his last breath here on Earth.

  “I think I would have been really mad at you that day, Dad. I’m actually not sure if I was mad the night you died and I found out about Lucy…you see, I can’t remember—”

  “You were very angry at him, Abigail, but you forgave your father, and Lucy was the sister you always dreamed of having. His mistake gave you a wonderful gift. We all make mistakes, petal.”