‘No, Tom,’ she heard herself saying to ward him off. ‘No.’
But he didn’t listen. ‘Um … my niece was born tonight. Emergency caesarean.’ There was no joy, nothing but a deep weariness and melancholy behind his words, in his eyes. ‘Rachel fitted. The doctors tried, but …’ He stopped as his lips trembled and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Amy’s heart stopped beating. The room was slanting.
‘She died,’ he rasped. ‘Rachel died.’
Amy’s world stopped. ‘No,’ she said, almost with a laugh because she would not believe such a horrible thing would happen. That was the worst—the worst thing possible. ‘No,’ she said again, staring at Tom, hoping he’d change his story.
‘I’m so sorry, Amy.’
Chapter 9
Tom didn’t want to believe the news Mitch had told him over the phone—a series of distraught statements of horrific detail given between moans of anguish Tom would prefer to go his entire life without ever hearing again.
Mitch must have been in pain beyond comprehension, but Tom had sure as hell heard it in his brother’s weak, trembling voice.
The first person Tom had called was Sam. He was organising an earlier flight home to Australia. Now he had to endure the journey with that news sitting hot and heavy in his heart.
Then Tom jumped back in the car and drove as fast as he could to Amy.
Now this; he was incapable of holding it together himself, let alone be a support for Amy. His entire body thrummed with a weight he’d not felt since Dad died. It burned in his chest like a scolding poker, made it difficult to breathe.
Grief.
He’d felt this before, and it terrified him to be feeling it again. Every time he’d look into the face of the tsunami, he’d turn away, knowing that if he went headfirst into it now, he’d drown. He couldn’t even imagine what Mitch must be enduring.
He needed to get to him as soon as he could.
Amy paced across the floor in front of him. She was shaking, her lips, her hands, her legs. The silent house was filled with her heavy breaths.
Tom thought about all of Rachel’s clothes in the bedroom, all of the symbols of her life—ornaments, table runners, flowers—placed throughout the house. His eyes kept moving to them. And then the wave of violent, painful grief would threaten him again. She is supposed to be coming home.
Tears pricked his eyes, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop them.
‘I should have been there … somehow,’ came Amy’s mumbled words. ‘I should have … didn’t get to say goodbye. I missed her call.’
She stopped pacing and sunk to the floor, her knees giving out under her. She buried her face in her hands, and a long wail sounded—inhuman almost. He wished it was inhuman and that this wasn’t happening to him, to his brother, to Amy. He couldn’t think of anything worse.
Tom wiped his cheeks as he stood and went to her. He held her under the arms and lifted her up. She collapsed against him, inconsolable. ‘I just wish I’d been there,’ she wailed.
Tom wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest as she cried, and he cried with her. He loved Rachel, but his grief was for Mitch, and for that little baby in the hospital who would never spend a single minute of her life with her mother.
‘Why did this happen?’ Amy cried.
‘I don’t know,’ Tom said, stroking her head. He had no fucking idea how this could happen.
Amy’s crying calmed after a long moment, and she released herself from him. She peered up at him. Her eyes were red and swollen, but wide. ‘We need to go. Now,’ she said. ‘I’ll pack some clothes.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll wait here while you do that. Hurry,’ he said.
She rushed away but spun back to face him. ‘But we’ve been drinking.’
‘I don’t care. I’m going to my brother. I’m not waiting.’
She nodded and jogged out of the room.
Amy was packed in less than five minutes. They locked up and left together in Tom’s car. He stopped in at his house and grabbed some gear for himself, though he couldn’t think straight as he ruffled through his closet and drawers.
Frankly, he couldn’t give a flying fuck if he’d left anything behind. Nothing was important right now. Nothing mattered but getting to that hospital so Mitch didn’t have to be alone. He couldn’t bear to even think about Mitch, what he was going through.
He ran then, jumped in the car, and they took off up the road.
The first hour of the drive was in silence. Complete silence because he couldn’t have the radio on—it drove him to tears.
Amy turned to him and sighed, shattering the silence.
He flinched, glanced at her.
Another deep sigh. ‘I just can’t believe it. I can’t. I keep thinking we’ll get there, and Rachel will be there.’
‘Me too. I keep thinking this must be a dream.’ He met her gaze for a brief moment. ‘Is it?’
She slumped in her seat, expression so solemn. ‘I wish it was.’ Silence intruded again, thick and heavy before she said, ‘I’m so afraid to ask … I keep wanting to, but I’m scared of the answer.’
‘What?’
‘Is Sophie okay?’
Tom nodded. ‘Mitch said that she’s a little small. Her glucose levels—or something—are low. They’ve given her breathing support because her lungs are immature. But he said she’s real strong.’
‘And Mitch?’
A lump formed in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes. He kept replaying Mitch’s voice over and over in his mind. Like broken glass. Empty. He didn’t speak for a while, knowing that if he did, he’d cry again. ‘Not good,’ he managed, voice croaky.
Amy sniffled and when he looked at her, she was facing the window, her shoulders shaking.
They arrived at the hospital a little after one am. In the elevators heading up to the maternity level, Tom tried to collect himself with deep breaths. He wiped his eyes with his shirt. It wasn’t going to help anyone tonight if he were a mess. Mitch needed support, and that’s what he planned on being.
The lights in the halls were dim. Everything was quiet. It didn’t feel right. There should be some sign that his sister-in-law had died. Something. Not nothing.
By the time he reached the nurse's station, he was agitated. For Mitch. For Rachel. Because didn’t her life mean something to them all? Amy followed beside him.
‘I’m here for Mitch Mathews,’ he said, straining to be calm. But by this stage his body was vibrating.
The nurse’s smile was warm and sympathetic as she led them towards the maternity room where sickly babies were cordoned behind glass windows. Mitch was inside, slouching in a chair, staring at a tiny baby in a clear walled crib.
Tom’s niece. Sophie.
She was connected to cords and had a tube down her throat and in her nose. Mitch looked up and saw him. Tom held rigid, pulling himself together because he’d never seen a man so broken in his life.
Mitch stood and came out to meet him, each step like he had to drag his legs through thick tar. Tom went to him and threw his arms around his brother, slapping his back. ‘I’m so sorry, mate. So fucking sorry.’
Mitched nodded. ‘Me too.’
Amy broke into tears as she hugged him next, whispering her condolences.
Mitch drew a shaky breath inwards. ‘Rachel’s still in her room. Her parents are with her, saying goodbye. I thought you’d like a chance to say goodbye too, before she … before they …’
Amy nodded and went ahead towards the room. Tom hung back with Mitch. ‘How’s Sophie going?’ he asked, unsure even what to say.
‘The doctors are confident.’
‘Good.’
‘She has to be okay,’ Mitch said. ‘She’s all I have left.’
‘You said she’s strong. She’ll fight. You just watch.’
Mitch stopped, shoulders hunching. ‘What a bloody mess. What an absolute mess. I just keep going over everything trying to figure out what I cou
ld have done differently to save her—’
‘You couldn’t have done anything. Out of your control. Out of Rachel’s control.’
‘But I should have done something.’ So much regret and sorrow in that last word and it twisted in Tom’s heart like a blunt blade.
‘I know, mate.’
Mitch scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘I let her down.’
Tom held Mitch’s shoulder. ‘I know you. You would have done everything you could have. You let no-one down.’
Mitch shook his head, blinked his eyes, as though trying to wake himself up. ‘Come on. Come say—’ he choked out the next word, ‘—goodbye.’
Tom arrived at Amy’s apartment a little before four o’clock after the nursing staff asked them not-so-politely to leave. There’d been no convincing Mitch, though. The staff had prepared a cot for him in Rachel’s hospital room, not that Mitch would get a blink of sleep tonight.
Tom collapsed onto the couch while Amy made them both a cup of tea. ‘What a shitty night,’ he said, eyelids drooping, yet knowing if he tried to sleep he wouldn’t be able to.
Amy sat beside him and handed Tom his drink. She stared down at the mug between her palms. ‘Rachel looked so peaceful. Like she was just sleeping. But I couldn’t see her in there anymore. I couldn’t feel her.’
Tom nodded. He remembered that same feeling after Dad died. His body, the face that stared back, was like an empty shell. All the life that had been housed inside was no longer present. He hated those memories because he didn’t know what happened when people died.
It frightened him to think that the people he loved would no longer exist on any plane, in any dimension, in any place. He grew jealous of religious people at times like this with all their comfort about the afterlife.
‘I’ve got sleeping tablets,’ Amy said and stood, resting her tea on the coffee table. She came back a moment later with two, handing one to Tom.
He placed it on his tongue and swallowed it with his tea. The tea may have been too hot, he was too exhausted to care.
Amy pointed her thumb towards the bathroom. ‘I’m going to have a shower. You can go after me.’
Again Tom nodded. His throat was so sore from grief contracting his oesophagus, the thought of talking pained him.
After a quick hot shower himself, he dressed into clean shorts and went to Amy’s room. She was already under the covers, staring at the ceiling.
‘Can I sleep in here with you?’ he asked.
Amy nodded.
He climbed in beside her and cuddled in close. She rolled on her side and nestled into the curve of his body. He wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders as she wept.
‘I just feel so sad about all this. She’s gone, Tom. And then there’s Mitch and little Sophie,’ she said, words strangled.
‘Shhh,’ he whispered against the back of her head. He kissed her hair hoping to comfort and needing to be comforted himself. He was shattered from the emotions of the day, but also the sleeping pill was working through his system, numbing his body. ‘Let’s try and get some sleep now.’
His eyelids drooped. His long blinks became longer until he didn’t blink at all.
The tinkle of keys at the front door followed by heavy footsteps woke Tom. He sat up, wiping at his eyes, then ran his hands through his hair. His mouth was so dry. Something heavy sat on his chest and on the outskirts of his thoughts.
And then it slammed into him like a barrel of bricks, sucking the breath from his lungs as the memory struck him. Rachel is dead.
Tom threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed.
He met Mitch in the lounge. Mitch’s hair was sticking out all over the place, his eyes red and swollen. Creases lined his face that had never been there before. His shoulders hunched like all his former buoyancy was lost.
Oh hell, he was hard to look at.
Mitch met Tom’s gaze. ‘The doc booted me out.’ He held up a little orange bottle, white label across the front. ‘Orders to sleep.’ He attempted a sardonic laugh, but it came out like an anguished bark.
‘It helps,’ Tom said. ‘Amy gave me one earlier.’
Amy walked out to greet them then, dressing gown pulled across her body. ‘Take a seat, Mitch, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
Mitch nodded and went to the lounge, flopping down onto it. He was a zombie, moving only when asked to do so. God knows how he managed to drive home.
Amy busied herself in the kitchen. Tom sat on the lounge with Mitch.
‘How’s Sophie this morning?’
Mitched opened his mouth, closed it again. He cleared his throat. ‘She’s good.’
Tom peered down at his watch. It was nine o’clock. ‘I’m going to get Sam from the airport at midday. I’ll make some calls to the vineyard too, just to let them know what’s going on. What about Mum?’
Mitch stared back.
‘Have you told her?’
Mitch shook his head, blew out a long breath. ‘She doesn’t need to know. It would set her back.’
Tom thought about that. Maybe Mitch was right. His mother had been in a nursing home for the last eight months, as much as they’d tried to keep her out of one. But, after she broke her arm and had to get pins inserted, it became the safer option.
Early onset dementia was a treacherous fucker.
‘I’ll give work a call too. I’ll take the next roster off and whatever annual leave I have.’ Which was a lot. He’d not taken a break since he’d started at the mine.
Mitch nodded.
‘Here,’ Amy said, handing Mitch his cup of tea. ‘Please, drink.’
Tom stood and grabbed a t-shirt to wear from the bedroom, then left out the front door. He didn’t want Mitch to relive it all as he informed their vineyard employees and his employer at the mine about Rachel.
Chapter 10
Amy prepared Mitch some toast with vegemite. She didn’t anticipate he’d eat it, though. She ripped the sheets off the bed and chucked them in the washing machine. She made the bed with clean sheets, tucking in the edges.
Then she scrubbed the bathroom, toilet, and kitchen. Sitting still was torture, because when she sat still the emotions and memories and reality would sink in—the incredible, cruel, shocking reality that last night she had kissed the cold cheek of her deceased best friend.
But she couldn’t avoid Mitch and just allow him to continue sitting, looking so lost on her lounge. Amy went to him, sitting across from him.
‘Would you like me to help arrange the funeral for Rachel?’ Tears pricked her eyes. She never thought yesterday or any day that this morning she would be uttering that question.
Mitch’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. Horror sunk deep into his expression. ‘Funeral?’ Hands shaking, he dropped his face into them and moaned so mournfully, Amy felt she might split in two from the pain of that sound.
It conjured nothing good inside her.
There was no hope, no silver lining, nothing to pin her faith on in the way his trembling voice echoed around the room.
He lifted his head, eyes wet with pain. ‘Yes. Please.’ Translucent snot was falling from his nose, lines of spit sat in the corners of his mouth.
‘Sure,’ she said, swallowing down the glassy lump in her throat.
‘She knew,’ he said.
Amy shook her head. ‘Pardon?’
‘That she was dying. She knew. And I didn’t believe her.’
‘Oh,’ Amy whispered.
Mitch stared off into the distance. Tears dripped onto his cheeks. ‘She woke early yesterday morning and just started rambling … She said Sophie was the perfect name. And I’m not allowed to give her Rachel as a middle name because she doesn’t want Sophie living in her shadow.
‘I have to pick her a middle name. A pretty one. One that she won’t get teased about. I’m not allowed to make her wear pink or dresses if she doesn’t want to. I’m always to talk about Rachel, no matter how hard. I am to fall …’
He stopped and looked
up. ‘I had to tell you to run the shop as long as you needed. It will be good for you. She said she …’ He stopped as his lips trembled too much for him to speak. A shaky breath in.’ She said she loved me more than anything. That I’d be a good dad …’
Mitch’s words broke away as a mournful sob filled the silent room.
Warm tears fell down Amy’s face to see him like this. From such an anguished place, it fractured her sense of reality of herself, of everything, to hear it. No-one should cry like that. No-one should have to feel like he did.
Tom came into the room and sat next to his brother, putting his arm around his back.
Amy couldn’t take any more. Inside her veins was splintered glass, sticking and slicing at everything, so painful she couldn’t breathe. She stood and raced out, headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Back against the wall, she tried to capture some air, but her lungs were too tight. The pools of heartbreak followed, leaking from her eyes, long wails fell from her throat.
Rachel was her best friend. Her only friend really.
And now she was gone.
Amy slid down the wall and cried like she’d never thought was possible. Long wracks that hurt so much, she didn’t think she would ever be whole again.
A knock came at the door some time later. Tom poked his head in.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
Amy wiped at her eyes with some toilet paper and nodded.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, sitting on the floor beside her.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, not believing her own story.
Head resting back against the wall, he said, ‘Mitch took the sleeping pill. He’s asleep in your bed. Totally shattered.’
Amy nodded, feeling comfort that Mitch was getting some rest. A small slice of peace from his heartache. Until he woke again and the pain stung him afresh.
They sat there together for a long while, not saying anything. She wasn’t crying anymore, but that deep, endless weight of grief was woven into the fabric of her being. It would be there forever. She knew that. A part of her.
‘How do we go on from here?’ she whispered.
Bittersweet Page 10
