Page 39 of Wandering Souls

Hollywood’s eyes widened. “I do.”

“I don’t want that for my daughter. You boys spent the better part of a decade playing kamikaze heroes because the trauma was never addressed.”

Determination settled over the younger man. “That’s why I’m building this place, Damien. I don’t want others to lose ten years of their lives figuring out how the hell to be normal again.” He reached out and set a hand on Damien’s shoulder, the contact reassuring. “We’ll help her. I promise.”

“You’re a good man, Hollywood.”

His cheeks blushed red. “She’s in the right place.”

Yes, she was. “I really have to make this call.” He held up his phone. “Go in and tell Mia to put her feet up. You’re doing the dishes.”

Hollywood squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, Sir.”

He waited until the young man went inside before dialing Bob’s number. His old friend picked up on the second ring. “Mate, you have got some explaining to do.”

~

Ray held her tightagainst him, fearful she’d stumble in the dark and worsen her already injured leg. He swallowed a smile when she gripped his jacket and held fast, almost snuggling into his side. They made their way slowly down the gravel path, Bruce keeping pace by Abi’s side. Every now and then he’d look up, as if to gauge her progress, glance at Ray and then press on.

The temperature had dropped, probably to single digits, and she shivered against him. He heard her stuttering breath and wanted to wrap his coat around her, but her cottage was not far. The white weatherboard building glowed in the moonlight. Further along, a light shone in the window of Colt’s cottage.

They reached the veranda and she fumbled in her pocket. The rattle of keys tinkled in the quiet night, before clattering to the concrete unceremoniously as her fingers dropped the small bundle.

“I’ve got it,” he whispered, bending to retrieve them.

“Sorry,” she huffed. “My fingers are kind of frozen.”

He’d see to them once they were inside. With his free hand, he slid a key into the lock and heard the click of the tumblers releasing the bolt. The door swung inward, the interior of the cottage dark and cold. Abi’s hand searched and found the switch, flicking on a low wattage globe in the living room. The flood of light illuminated the open-plan area, allowing them to enter without fear of crashing into furniture.

Bruce padded ahead before Ray set Abi on the sofa. He returned to shut the cottage door then crouched in front of the wood heater.

“You don’t need to do that,” she smiled. “I’m just going to curl up in bed and go to sleep.”

“You’re already cold. By morning, you’ll have icicles dangling off your eyebrows.” He winked, hoping the over-exaggeration brought a little humor to her night. The corners of her tired eyes crinkled as she smiled. “It’ll take the edge off the air and make getting up in the morning much easier.”

Especially with her thigh already over-taxed. He waited for her permission before turning back to the enclosed metal box and opening the reinforced glass door. In the center of the box, he set some scrunched paper and then stacked twigs and kindling in a pyramid. He found a couple of thicker branches in the woodpile that sat in the corner of the room, hoping they’d catch quick.

He heard rustling behind him and glanced around to find Abi slipping out of her coat. She pulled a blanket from the backrest of the sofa and laid it over her legs. Not surprisingly, Bruce lay at her feet. Ray made eye contact with the dog and silently warned him against getting too comfortable. They’d have to go home eventually.

“How am I supposed to act around him?” Abi mused.

Ray retrieved the box of matches and slid one out of the container. “You mean Damien?”

“Biologically, he’s my father. Am I supposed to call him Dad?”

He slid the match across the strike plate and heard the familiar hiss of the head catching alight. With a flick, he tossed it into the pile of flammables. He lit another and sent it into the box. A flame flickered. Smoke billowed and went up the flue. The moving air gave the tiny fire the breath it needed and the subsequentwhooshof ignition had never felt so satisfying. Ray watched the fire lick at the thin kindling and smiled when it caught.

Turning, he sat on the floor cross-legged by the open door of the wood heater. On the sofa, Abi frowned.

“No, Abi. You don’t have to call him that. Not if you don’t want to.”

The glow of the fire reflected in her eyes. “It was very strange, coming face to face with him.”

He couldn’t imagine how she’d felt if he tried. “If it’s any consolation, I suspect Damien felt it too. He’s a sentimental old man, these days, or so I’m told. He only reconnected with Stevie three years ago, and Penny more recently. He thought he’d lost them both. You might have more in common with him than you think.”

On her lap, her fingers twisted together. Ray checked the fire and saw kindling ablaze. He grabbed a thick log and set it into the middle of the stack. Sparks flew and the flames crackled as they greedily began to devour the log. He swung the door closed, pushed the handle down and adjusted the flue lever to moderate the fire’s pace.

“I know he didn’t know about me, but there’s a part of me that wishes he’d come for me. It’s stupid,” she whispered. “He didn’t even know I existed.”

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