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‘When it rains, look for rainbows. And when it’s dark, look for stars. I’ll be watching right back.’
Sketch closes his eyes, and a soft, warm breath trickles past his parted lips and reaches mine.
‘I love you, Sketch,’ I say, pushing the words out as fast as I can. ‘I love you so much.’
‘I’ll wait for you among the stars, Annie.’
‘Among the stars,’ I promise.
Sketch smiles, and I watch a sense of calmness wash away the pain from his face. I bend forward and brush my lips as gently as I can against his forehead and kiss him. A sudden, bleak silence hangs in the air where Sketch’s laboured breathing was just seconds ago, and I don’t dare to blink as I watch his chest. It doesn’t rise and fall any more.
‘Wake up,’ I cry, rocking him gently. ‘Please. Please wake up.’
I sweep my eyes over Sketch’s face. Over his barely-there freckles that sprinkle across his nose like cinnamon. Over his full cherry lips and his closed eyes. Rain kisses his face, washing away the bright-red blood from the gash on his cheek. He wears a beautiful smile, and his hand is clasped around mine; loving me still. It would be easy to believe he’s sleeping.
‘No. Please God, no!’ I scream, my mouth wide but not wide enough to let the pain escape. The pressure inside my chest crushes me from the inside out, and I think I may die too. I wish for it.
Bridget is suddenly beside me. Her face is grey like the clouds overhead, and she’s trembling all over.
‘Is he… Is he…?’ she rasps.
I nod. I felt him leave me, like a beautiful feather carried away on the wind.
Bridget throws herself to the ground and drapes her arms over Sketch’s body. Her beautiful blonde hair is tinged with crimson blood, and I didn’t realise before that she’s hurt too, but I don’t know where. The only pain she yields to is the pain in her heart as she screams and cries.She loved him, too.
Mr Talbot comes into view with some people I don’t know by name, but I recognise their faces from the farmers’ market on Saturday mornings. I step back and watch as they desperately try to revive the man I love.
Finally, someone notices my father’s body and they hurry to help him, assuming he’s been hurt in the crash, too. I watch in disbelief at the carnage. I’ve lost both men in my life. One a monster. The other a hero.
As numb as I feel, I still notice my ma’s hand on my shoulder. I drag the back of my hands across my eyes, but tears are falling faster than I can dry them. ‘Sketch tried so hard to save us,’ I cry.
‘And he did, Annie. He saved you.’ My mother looks at the spot on the ground where my father has fallen. The ruby anger that usually sits in his cheeks when he’s been drinking is missing, and his face is grey and washed out like the concrete road next to him. ‘You’re free as a bird, Annie.’
‘What is freedom if I can’t share it with Sketch?’ I sob loudly.
‘Sketch will always be your husband now, Annie.’ My mother smiles through her delicate tears. ‘Your hero. Keep his memory in your heart, and you will always have him close.’
Ma drops her eyes to the ferry tickets in my hand. She curls her fingers around mine and nods her head.
‘Take care of Mr Talbot,’ I whisper. ‘Sketch wouldn’t want his father to be lonely.’
My mother pulls me close to her and wraps her arms tightly around me. She kisses the top of my head, and without another word, she turns and walks away.
Hustle and bustle reigns around me. People shout, and pull and twist Sketch’s body trying to shake life into him. My heart aches as I smile at their valiant efforts. At the efforts of the community I grew up in. The only place I have ever known as home. But it’s time to find a new home. For a while, at least.
‘Hello, Sketch,’ I whisper, placing my hand against my chest to feel my heart beating against my palm. I clutch the ferry tickets tightly in my other hand. ‘Let’s catch that boat together.’
I put one shaking foot in front of the other, and I walk away. I don’t look back at the frantic scene behind because I know Sketch isn’t lying on the roadside. He’s walking right beside me; I just can’t see him with my eyes, but I can feel him with my heart.
FORTY-FOUR
HOLLY
‘Nana. Nana, look up,’ I urge. ‘The clouds have parted.’ I point upwards. ‘We can finally see the stars that you’ve waited for. Aren’t they beautiful?’
My grandmother doesn’t reply. Her head tilts towards the sky, and a satisfied smile lights up her pale face.
My mother is kneeling on the grass in front of Nana’s wheelchair. Her head is gently resting on Nana’s knees, and her hands dangle by her sides as if they’re heavy and not part of her body. Her shoulders tremble. My father stands next to her, towering over her protectively. His hand carefully strokes her shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. I’ve never seen my father cry, but silent tears trickle down his rosy cheeks now.
