D U S K ✔

Chapter Thirty-Eight

{UNEDITED}

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"Go home, darling. We'll call you as soon as he wakes up."

  I nodded, looking down at my fidgeting hands as I quickly shoved them in my jacket's pockets, well it wasn't actually my jacket, it had been placed by the side of Adam's bed and with some forceful hands, and equally forceful words, Theresa had shoved it on me. 

  Quite literally.

  The smell that laced through the leather only reminded me of Adam more, not to mention the packet of cigarettes I found in the pocket. I tried to hide the red-lined cardboard box from Theresa's watchful eyes but she had seen them anyway. Moments ago, Theresa had noticed my shaking hands and automatically deemed me 'cold', not taking into account that I was actually in a full-on panic and the chilling room had nothing to do with it. 

  Not that I wasn't grateful for her kind gesture, but it wasn't mine to take. Nor was she in the right place to be worrying about my health when Adam was knocked out, lying beaten and battered in a hospital bed just feet away from her.

  I took the jacket anyway.

"Gabrielle? Are you still here?"

  I paused at the door, making no effort to answer her curious voice. Stealing one glance back at his pale, lifeless body, I could've sent myself to hell for abandoning him so quickly. I had to remind myself of what I was leaving him for, I knew I would need to go home sometime, it had been a whole day and the doctors had told us he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. 

  I just needed to take the days as they come. 

  And firstly get home, and talk to my dad.

I shut the door to his hospital room as quietly as I could, I was sure they heard it anyway. It was definitely comforting to know Adam was being taken care of as best he could, his parents were stuck with a delayed flight from Milan and wouldn't be home for days, they had got the call from Theresa late last night after the news. Their delay I was sure Adam would've been thankful for. 

  And even if his parents wouldn't be there when he woke up, it was soothing to know he had Theresa and Jimmy, even if I wasn't there either.

   The walk down from his hospital room was eerily silent, except from the hushed chatter of the nurses, it was as though there was no other patients on the whole floor. I didn't doubt that Adam's parent's would actually be able to do that, being the distant founders of the town, or grandchildren to the founders, or whatever. 

  I kept my head down, focusing on the ground and trying to stop the blurs of tears that threatened to escape, all the way to the bus stop, which was conveniently right outside.

  It was early Sunday morning, I couldn't tell the exact time, my phone had died a while ago, but from the gentle flush of wind and symphony of  the early morning birds I assumed it was around seven to eight.

  I knew exactly what time it was when the elderly people began leaving the hospital, all clad in their finest clothes, arm in arm.

  I knew them all by name.

  The moment it hit me was a moment too late. I knew exactly what time it was, the distinct sound of hymns echoing through the valleys was enough indication as it was.

  I decided to turn away, walk home or just cower behind the feeble bus stop pole, as though that was enough to hide me from the shame of what I already knew I was trapped in. 

  Just when all the elders began to wave and smile at me it turned the corner, heading straight for the hospital. 

  More specifically, me.  

  I saw Patty lean out of the open window, only one hand on the wheel, and wave to me. 

  It was too late now. 

  I forced a smile, which felt a lot more like a grimace as I looked to the unmissable Jesus on the top of the van, The Jesus Wagon overall looking delightful as ever.

  My bus wouldn't come for another twenty minutes. There was absolutely no way of escaping this one, only option was to get in, as I knew Patty would surely ask, or I could run. 

  Which option was better, probably the latter, but which was faster? Me, or a van that literally had the power of God on it's side. 

  I wasn't betting on me. 

  It came to a stop, just to the side of the bus lines as Patty opened to door to let the church-goers on.  She bounced out of it too, surprisingly agile for a seventy-six year old, and without a word ushered me in.

  I sighed, I should've known it would be Patty doing the rounds on the Sunday church service, especially since the hospital is where our main party of people come from. It was silly of me to think any less. 

  I sat next to Arnold, one of the many regulars. Apart from the moments when sing-a-long hymns were available, the ride was quick and full of chatter, mostly about the weather, now that it had started to snow. A lot of talk about knitting, hats, scarves, you name it. 

  But no talk about the boy who was laid down in a hospital bed, fighting for his eyesight. Which was strange as it was the only thing I could think even about.

  The Wagon made a few more stops, collecting some more people -- I was forced by my good nature to give up my seat -- before we eventually made it back to the church. 

  I couldn't see my father, but I was sure he was in there already.

  A lot of motivation was needed as I got out of the van, I didn't want to have to explain to him what was going on, or why I was away for so long without any warning, but I knew I needed to talk to him. Sometime. 

  I met him in the back room of the church, a book -- probably the Bible-- in his hands. He met my eyes as soon as I walked in, his whole face morphed into a look of relief as he brought me in for a hug.

  "You didn't call?" Was all he said, it was all he needed to say for me to know how worried he was.

  I took a deep breath, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. "I'm sorry." I wiped at the tears that had fallen, and tried to soothe my hiccups. 

  "What happened?" He broke away from the hug on hearing my broken voice. 

  And then it all came out, sure it was spluttered and messy, and I obviously left out all the illegal business, motorbikes and such, but every last thing all splurged out of my mouth and into his ever so willing ears. 

  "I'm sorry, dad, I'm so sorr-" I cried as he pulled me into another hug, "I'm sorry I lied about it, I'm sorry--" I spluttered. 

  "It's okay, I forgive you, don't worry. Everything is going to be okay." He repeated, again and again as I got his black vicar's suit all wet with my tears.

  I didn't deserve any of his forgiveness.

  After a while, I managed to form a coherent sentence, "How is the lawsuit going?" I mumbled into his shoulder.

  He sniffled a bit, "Their..." he paused briefly, as I pulled away from the hug, "Their lawyers were to good."

  My heart stopped. 

 "Gabrielle, we've lost the church."