Fall From Grace (Slater #1)

by Sammy King

  She walked quickly to keep up with him. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to tell him that Porter was the father of her child, but she couldn’t find the words to speak. As they neared the cottage, she could see her Aunt in the garden. Aunt looked up and saw Laura and Cole walking towards them. She narrowed her eyes at Cole.

  “Father asked me to send this ham and bread home to Laura and her mother, please keep the basket” he said.

  Aunt took the ham and basket from him, sharply nodding her head. Cole turned without another word and left back through the woods and Laura followed her Aunt into the small cottage. Her mother’s hacking cough filled the room.

  Chapter Ten

  Porter.

  The days at the seminary seemed to drag along. Porter had learnt fairly quickly into the training that this was Richard’s dream and not his. He knew better than to rock the boat and concentrated on his studies. He went to his lessons, spent hours in prayer and read the bible that his father had given to him, back to front. He hoped that eventually through habit it would become something he loved. In the first few weeks, his mind constantly wandered to Laura and the crazed look in her eye when he had passed in the carriage. He had seen her about to step forward, but a perverse part of him hadn’t panicked, he had wanted to see what she would do, but at the last minute she had stepped back.

  He hadn’t heard from his father, in fact he had no communication from any of his family or friends. Porter made friends easy enough and had got to know several of the other men in his classes. Not that idle speak was looked upon lightly, they weren’t to speak during classes, prayer time or meal time. Generally everyone walked around the halls of the large buildings in silence, their heads down. Porter often wondered what the other men were thinking about. Were they really as devoted to the church as he assumed or did they have doubts like he did? Occasionally one of the men would talk about his fears when they sat out in the long grass together, but their fears seemed to be only whether they would be a good priest. They weren’t the same fears as Porter. Fears that there was no God and this was worth nothing. He kept his fears to himself.

  At first Laura was on his mind, actually most of the women that he had shared intimate time with was on his mind regularly, but after a few weeks, they seemed to find a compartment marked not to think about and he forgot about all of them. He realised that all his practice, the prayer, the reading, the self-flagellation worked and he started to believe that being a priest like his father was his calling. He found himself looking forward to getting up each morning for prayer and his lessons.

  He received his first letter from his father, five months after he started at the seminary. Richard wrote that he hadn’t wanted to distract Porter from his studies. He wrote about all of his family, informing Porter what each of his siblings were doing with their life. It sounded that everything was going accordingly to his father’s plan for his brood. Porter took a pencil and paper out and sat in the small light of the candle and the wooden desk and began to write back to his father. Porter told Richard about how much God was changing him, how much he had learnt and his progress. He thanked Richard for suggesting to join the seminary. The men at the seminary weren’t allowed to leave the grounds so he sealed his letter and had it sent off for him.

  Laura.

  Laura hoped to hear from Porter and his father assured that he was going to send word. But yet nothing, Aunt said not to hold out hope. Laura didn’t want to believe that the man who touched her so tenderly, that loved her so greatly would be capable hurting her so terribly, but every time she thought about it, Porter’s eyes would appear in front of Laura’s face. They were the eyes of the devil as he made love to the red haired woman under the bridge and that sardonic grin that adorned his face. Laura’s tears had dried, but her mind seemed to be going with every growth of her belly.

  Laura’s mother was getting sicker every day. A shell of her former self, Laura watched as Aunt would lift her easily from the bed to clean Gwendoline. It broke Laura’s heart, she couldn’t imagine living without her mother. The hacking cough seemed to be constantly present. Laura spent almost every night tucked up beside her mother in bed and every time the cough would prevent Gwendoline from breathing Laura would roll her mother onto her side and rub her back for her.

  One night they lay there huddled together, Gwendoline’s cough wracked through her system. Laura reached out to her mother and gently eased Gwendoline’s shoulders onto her side rubbing her back, until her mother was able to gather her breath again. It wasn’t much breathing; it was more a loud wheezing sound, it felt to Laura that her mother couldn’t get air down into her lungs instead her breath seemed to get caught in her throat. As they lay there, the moon high in the sky, the fire smouldering, Laura’s arm slung over her mother’s waist and Laura’s large pregnant belly pressed into her mother bony back, Gwendoline entwined her fingers with Laura’s.

  “Child?” Gwendoline gasped. Laura tightened her embrace to let her mother know that she was still awake. “It won’t be long for me now; I’m trying to hang on for you to have your own child so my passing won’t be so painful, but I can’t hold on much longer. Remember no matter what you were my whole heart.”

  Laura felt the warm tear slip from her eye, she couldn’t find the words to speak, she didn’t want to believe that her mother was about to die, but she knew she couldn’t keep pushing away the truth of the situation. They laid in each other’s arms for the rest of the night. Laura awoke with a start in the morning; she could feel the coldness under her arm and against her body. Her mother wasn’t wheezing and panic began to creep in like a dark shadow threatening to envelope Laura.

  “Mam?” Laura quietly squeaked.

  Gwendoline didn’t reply. Laura sat up gingerly on the bed, the room was still dark, but from the small light that entered from the window, Laura could see that dawn was quickly approaching. She reached out a tender hand and touched her mother’s face, but snatched it back when the skin was ice cold under her fingers. The skin although elastic moved over the hardness of the rigid muscles and bone underneath. Laura realised that she had her eyes squeezed shut and was yet to look at her mother. Willing her eyes open slowly, she peered at her mother’s face that was now grey in colour, her lips a neon blue, her emerald eyes paled and had become opaque. The ice cold demon of panic reached up and gripped at Laura’s throat, her mouth went dry and she began to tremble.

  Laura tried to call out to Aunt, but she couldn’t say anything no words would come. She pulled her mother’s body close to hers, the skin was cold; her mother was so cold. Laura wanted to warm her. She pulled Gwendoline into a strong embrace, trying to warm her body, silently pleading for her to wake up. She reached up and began to smooth Gwendoline’s hair, brushing her fingers through the once beautiful blonde locks, her mind drifted to her father. He would never know of his wife’s passing, Laura had no way of communicating with him. She didn’t know where he was. Her child kicked and danced in her belly against her mother’s rigid back. A silent tear slipped from her eye as the cloud of darkness descended and swallowed Laura whole.

  She hadn’t realised that she had fallen asleep, but woke to Aunt’s wails. Laura snapped her eyes open, reality crashing like a tsunami. She looked down at her mother in the day’s light, her body still stiff under her touch. Aunt stood at the foot of bed, tears flowing from her eyes, hitting Gwendoline’s ankles. Laura heard movement at the door and saw Doctor James come into the room, he swiftly moved Aunt out the cottage and then approached the bed where Gwendoline and Laura lay. He looked between Laura and Gwendoline, concern etched into his face. Two men came into the room and began to remove Laura’s arms from Gwendoline’s waist. Laura screamed an animalistic screech as she clawed back at her mother’s body, holding on tight. They couldn’t take her; Laura wouldn’t allow them to take her away.

  “Child, please we need to take her, she needs to be buried” Doctor James spoke gently.

  “NO” Laura screamed again.

>   One of the men stepped forward in an attempt to unravel Laura from her mother’s body. This time Laura reached out and scratched his face with her nails, leaving deep wounds on his cheek. He shrieked in pain and leaped back.

  “Whore” the man spat.

  Doctor James shot the man a disgruntled look and the man, turned his back. Laura eyed the other man, threatening him to try and take her mother from her. He looked like he wanted to step forward but his eyes were jittery, they shifted between her and the man who had just received the wounding scratch.

  “Laura, come now” Doctor James spoke.

  Suddenly Laura felt a sharp jab in the meaty part of her thigh and she saw Doctor James pull away a syringe. Laura screamed an ear piercing scream and leapt from the bed. She reached out clawing and slapping at the Doctor, who stepped back to the wall. The man who hadn’t been scratched grabbed roughly at Laura, pinning her arms to her side. Laura shook her head, screaming, spit flying from her mouth, as she gnashed her teeth; the darkness of insanity had taken its hold. Slowly her vision started blur, the edges of darkness crept in, her legs became heavy and she couldn’t hold herself up. The man, who held her arms to her side, reached down and put his arms under her knees lifting her from the ground. He gently laid Laura onto the bed beside her mother as the darkness took its control.

  When she woke again, her mother’s body had been removed and the cottage was sunken in complete darkness. The fire was nothing more than embers. A chill played in the room. Laura gingerly climbed from the bed and reached for the poker, stoking at the fire as she threw another piece of wood in the hearth trying to ignite the warmth in the room. She heard a whimper from behind her and saw her Aunt sitting in the wooden chair near the fire. She didn’t speak to Laura; she just looked off into the flames that had risen to lick at the wood.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laura couldn’t comprehend what life would be like without her mother. She didn’t want to comprehend it. She wanted to just close her eyes and run, block out every horrible thing that had ever happened to her. In that moment that’s all Laura could think about; was running. As she left through the front door she thought she heard Aunt say something to her, but Laura wasn’t going to stay around to talk.

  Laura headed to the back of the cottage and the thick forest that stood behind their house. She hadn’t been there since the big man attacked her as a small child. The woods were dense; the dank smell of dirt assaulted her nostrils. The deeper she delved the quieter it became, until she was standing in the thick trees where the canopy blocked out the sunlight. A screech echoed throughout the forest, Laura’s heart pounded, sweat began to bead on her upper lip, her eyes darted from tree to tree, the screech sounded again and Laura’s feet began to run. She didn’t know the direction she was heading she didn’t care, her feet were on auto pilot as she skipped over fallen branches, bramble and tree roots. She came to a screaming halt; there in amongst the thick trees was a small cottage. Laura rubbed her eyes not believing what she saw. There was a small trail of smoke coming out of the chimney and movement to her left caught her eye. Laura spun on her heel to see a fox stopped, its orange head cocked to the side watching her. Slowly Laura stepped closer as it watched her curiously. The screech echoed again, her heart leapt and a lump formed in her throat, the fox darted into the woods, lost among the bramble and thick trees.

  “Stop.. Wait..” Laura cried.

  “Hey, you, who are you?” she heard the deep rumbling voice from behind her.

  Laura’s body tensed in fear. Slowly she turned her head to look over her shoulder. In the doorway of the cottage was a man, his greying hair thick on his head, his long wiry beard reached to the middle of his chest. His arms were huge and his chest wide. The lump that had formed in Laura’s throat became even larger and Laura began to wonder if she would stop breathing altogether.

  “Laura?” the man spoke, his eyes narrowed as he began to step towards her.

  Laura’s panic reached its crescendo and she turned to the direction she came and began to run, her breaths causing her lungs to burn, the taste of blood coated her mouth. She heard the man call for her to wait, but she ignored him and continued to run. He knew her name, he knew her. But Laura didn’t know him. When her cottage came into view Laura slowed down, trying to catch her breath. Aunt raced around the corner, grasping hold of Laura’s shoulders. It wasn’t until then that Laura realised that she was screaming.

  “Laura child, what’s wrong? Where have you been? Why are you screaming girl?” Aunt screamed into Laura’s face.

  Laura couldn’t control the sound that was falling from her mouth, the screams that wouldn’t cease. The hard sting on her cheek caused the screams to stop abruptly. Laura reached up and touched her lip gingerly, where she felt a trickle of blood run down her chin, her Aunt’s hand slowly lowered back to Laura’s shoulder.

  “Now speak to...” Aunt began, just as Laura heard the heavy breathing coming from behind. “Oh dear sweet Lord, yer alive, yer here and yer free”.

  Aunt’s face paled and her eyes instantly welled threatening to overflow with tears. Laura slowly turned to see the man from the cottage standing behind them, his hands on his knees, his breaths coming in heavy bursts. Aunt dropped her hands off Laura’s shoulders and stepped towards the man as he slowly stood, composing himself. Aunt wrapped her hands around his waist, her head only reaching to the middle of his chest.

  “Oh Thomas” Aunt sobbed into the man’s chest.

  Thomas? That was Laura’s father’s name. Laura shook her head, it couldn’t be him; he was in gaol. If he had got out, why wouldn’t he have come back to see her and her mother? Why would he have stayed away? Laura narrowed her eyes as he looked above her Aunt’s head and into her eyes. His eyes were a dark blue, like the oceans she had only ever heard about; the most beautiful blue that she could ever imagine and suddenly recognition hit Laura to the core of her soul.

  “Daddy?” she asked quietly.

  Thomas’ eyes welled up and a single tear ebbed its way down over his cheek and mingled with the hair on his top lip. He nodded slowly. The lump that had been caught in Laura’s throat dropped to the pit of her stomach. Her father, the man that she dreamed of stood in front of her, after thirteen years, he was real, tangible and alive.

  “Mama’s gone Daddy” Laura said, surprised by the tears that now flowed down her cheeks.

  Thomas narrowed his eyes and looked down at Aunt; she remained holding her thin arms around his waist. Aunt looked up at him and nodded. A guttural roar built up from his belly as he dropped to his knees. He covered his face in his hands and sobbed; his shoulders heavy under the pressure of his tears. It was all too much for Laura to bear; she stepped towards Thomas and knelt in front of him on the damp grass. Laura pulled Thomas into a tight grasp, he leant his head on her shoulder, his tears mingled with hers.

  She had so many questions for her father, but she knew that it wasn’t the right time. Her emotions were mixed, she didn’t know whether to be elated or angry at her father, but what she did feel was relief to have him by her side. That night in the cottage when she climbed into her bed completely exhausted, he came and sat on the edge beside her.

  “You must have a lot of questions for me child?” he asked.

  Laura nodded, she did, but she was too tired to ask them at that moment.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away, it was safer; the police would have hanged me otherwise, if they find out where I am they would probably still hang me, that man whose life I took, he was a man of influence” he said sombrely. His statement didn’t prove to provide any relief; it didn’t answer any of her questions.

  Laura reached over and took Thomas’ hand in hers. She didn’t want to let him go. She had lost him for the last thirteen years; she didn’t want him to leave again. As if he sensed her fears he assured Laura that he would just be in the other room talking with Aunt and that he would be still in the cottage when she awoke. He slowly stood and before she drifted into the darkness
of sleep she could hear Thomas and Aunt talking about her mother.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Laura awoke her eyes were bleary and heavy. The sun freckled its way in through the window, but there was a dampness that hung in the air. She could see the steam that breathed from her lips in the coolness of her room. Slowly she pushed back the heavy woollen blanket from her body, shivering at the chill that seemed to seep into her bones. Her belly was large and her back ached, the child whom grew inside her seemed to stretch her skin to almost tearing point and Laura was beginning to wonder how much more she could take. She rubbed her face and slowly stretched, trying to find some comfort. When she stood her toe brushed against firm heavy plushness, as she looked down she saw curled at the foot of her bed laid Thomas. A thin blanket draped over his body, his eyes closed. Laura flopped back down onto her bed, unable to peel her eyes away from her prodigal father, the father who mysteriously returned as sudden as his mysterious disappearance.

  She sat for a long time taking in the image of his face, the peacefulness in which he slept, the slight frown he wore, the eyelashes that brushed his cheeks, the small sighs that he made. She startled when Thomas suddenly flicked his eyes open and stared tiredly up at Laura. It was as if he was still trying to grasp his bearings as to where he was, but soon recognition crossed his eyes and he softly stared up at his daughter. He smiled and sat up slowly, easing his hulking body off the floor and dusting off his pants. He gingerly sat on the bed. Laura reached out her fingers to stroke his beard, she never remembered it being so long, just as she felt the wisps of hair on his chin, Thomas captured her hand in his and bought her palm up to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. Tears fell from her eyes, caressing her cheeks as she pulled her father into a tight embrace, crying harder, her sobs wracking her entire body. She stayed there crying for her lost childhood, her father, her mother, and her own child, who too would grow up fatherless.