He finishes my sentence. “Taurus. I guessed as much. Are
you all right?” He places his hand on my elbow to help me rise
and puts the rose back in my hair. “That’s better. Now you look
perfect.”
I smile. “I better go before anyone sees us.”
He looks conflicted “I tried to make sure it was Nicon that
you were matched with.”
I look at Morrick, startled. “Nicon? And why would you do
that?”
“I see how he looks at you, and he would have treated you
well,” Morrick says, looking annoyed.
This frustrates me. I did not want to be matched with Nicon.
I wanted Morrick more than life itself, but this would never be possible.
“Morrick, I don’t want Nicon.” I look away and don’t say how
I truly feel. It would be unfair.
But Morrick startles me with his response. “You have my
word. I will find a way for us to be together.” And then he is
gone, back to the village.
Chapter One
Ireland ~ Present Day
(Sarajane)
It’s Sunday so I get muffled up and shove on my black wellies
that are decorated with pink hearts. I smile to myself. Josh
bought them for me. Josh is my best friend. We met when I
was only ten years of age at our local beach, here in Blackrock,
Co. Louth. From that day on, we never looked back.
“Sarajane, you can’t keep doing this.” My smile vanishes
as Dad stands in the kitchen doorway. His face is drawn with
sadness. I button up my army-green jacket.
“I can’t stop, Dad,” I say while pulling a black woolly hat
down over my hair. A car horn beeps outside. I kiss Dad on the
cheek without meeting his eyes. “I’ll be back before dark,” I say
and stick my gloves in my pocket.
“Sarajane.” I turn around and face him. “Please be careful.”
I force a smile. “Always am, Dad.”
Josh has the heater up full blast, as it is a cold morning
outside. He’s wrapped in a puffy black jacket, jeans, and heavy,
black military-style boots. His blond hair is tucked away under
a black cap.
“Love the boots,” Josh says while he reverses out of the
driveway of our two-story house. We live in a cul-de-sac with
two other families. We keep to ourselves and so do they.
I look back at the house and Dad is standing in the sitting
room, looking out the window, wrapped in grief. I give a small
wave and then we are out of sight. The drive is always silent as
we make our way to the forest, my mind racing,
praying today will be the day we find something.
Josh pulls in at a filling station. “Coffee?” he asks while
taking off his seat belt.
“Yes, thanks.” His door closes and I watch as people go on
with their daily lives. It looks so simple, no major complications.
When my mother was around, I never realised how great my life
was. Josh climbs back in, then hands me my coffee and drops a
bag onto the floor on my side.
“What did you get?” I ask as he turns the key in the ignition.
“Your favourite. Tuna sandwich with lots of mayonnaise.”
We leave the filling station and I wrap my hands around my
coffee for extra warmth. We arrive at the parking lot just on the
outskirts of the forest. I climb out, still clinging to my cup. We
follow our usual trail. The ground is muddy from the rain. This
causes my wellies to make squishing noises. Josh has nailed red
pieces of cloth onto trees to help us remember the area we need
to search. I send up another silent prayer that today I will find
something, anything.
This area was the last place my mother was before she
disappeared six months ago. She was out that day, walking
Charlie, our dog. The Garda found Charlie dead, along with
my mum’s blue rain mac. That is all we have left of her.
It made no sense, her disappearance. There was no ransom.
We weren’t wealthy, just comfortable, so that was ruled out
earlier on in the search. Also, my mother had no enemies. She
was just a housewife.
We take opposite sides of our outlined area and comb the
ground for clues. After two hours of coming up empty-handed,
of minerals.
“Josh, do you think when someone dies they would linger
around?”
He takes a drink before answering me. “Yes, I suppose, if
they have unfinished business.”
I know Josh is just being kind. He really believes if you’re
dead, that’s it, lights out.
“I don’t feel her here,” I say.
Josh places his hand over mine. “That’s good, Sarajane.” Pity
fills his brown eyes, and it makes me angry.
I push his hand away. “She is alive.”
He places his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles
turning white from his grip. I know he believes she’s dead and
I’m in denial. “You can’t keep this up.”
I seal my sandwich, having lost my appetite. “Keep what
up?” I ask, knowing fully well what he is talking about. I knew one day I would have this conversation.
Josh turns to me. “Sarajane, please. Searching for her in the
same place for the last six months is not healthy.”
My temper flares. “Sorry for taking up your Sundays.” I
jump out of his car, slamming the door, and return to the
forest.
Josh follows me. “Sarajane, this is not about my time.” I
keep walking, splashing mud past my wellies up onto my black
jeans. Josh catches up with me. “Just stop.” He stands in front
of me. “I’m trying so hard to help you. You know I would
do anything for you, right? I don’t care about my time. I just
worry about you.”
I look away, shaking my head. Tears fill my eyes. “If I stop
looking, it means I’ve given up on her.” My tears spill over. Josh
pulls me into his chest and lets me cry. Afterwards, I use my
glove to clean my face and nose.
“I will come with you every Sunday forever, but I just think
there is nothing to find here.”
I look into his brown eyes. “I won’t stop.”
He wraps an arm around me and kisses my head. “Okay, we
won’t stop, then.”
We search for a few more hours, but find nothing. Josh drops
me off at my house just as it’s getting dark.
Jessica and Dad are in the sitting room when I arrive home.
“Sarajane, is that you?” Dad calls from the couch.
“Yes, just getting changed.”
I kick off my muddy boots and leave them at the door. Then
I race upstairs to change into my pyjamas bottoms and a T-shirt. I tie my hair up and splash cold water on my face before heading to the sitting room. I take a deep breath and plaster a smile on my face before entering.
A bowl of popcorn sits on the coffee table. I’m not hungry
by any means, but I need to look fine. “Oh, popcorn!” I grab a
handful and sit down beside Jessica, eating one at a time. We sit
there and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, Jessica’s favourite film.
It feels so depressi
ng to watch it tonight. Once it ends, we all
head to bed. I feel more down than I did earlier, and Jessica and
Dad look no better.
BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP! My alarm clock wakes me out of
a nightmare. I sit up in my bed and push my hair away from my
damp forehead. The clock flashes seven a.m., plenty of time for
a shower before work. Once showered, I pull on a clean pair of
black jeans. I finish it off with a blue T-shirt and black boots.
Scooping up my black curly hair, I place it on the top of my
head.
“Jessica, it’s time to wake up.” I bang on my sister’s door
again. “Last chance or I’ll come in there and pull you out of
bed.” A few seconds later, the door creaks open.
“I’m awake, okay, Sarajane, so stop bugging me.” She rubs
her eyes, squinting at me. “Since you’re dressed, you can make me
breakfast.” While rolling my eyes, I head for the stairs. Jessica
is normally a morning person, but since Mum’s disappearance,
it’s taken its toll on us all.
I finish my breakfast and head for my car. It’s an old Renault.
My parents bought it for my eighteenth birthday, which was
three years ago. I beep the horn just as Jessica is coming out the
door with toast in her mouth.
“You need to learn some patience,” she says with her mouth
full.
Ignoring her statement, I pull out of the drive and make my
way to Jessica’s secondary school.
“Have a good day,” I say just as she slams the car door and
races over to her friends. I mumble to myself as I drive away.
“Have a good day yourself, Sarajane. Oh, and thanks for dropping me to school.”
I arrive at work with fifteen minutes to spare, so I head into
our local shop for a takeaway coffee.
“Morning, Sarajane, how are you today?” Mr. McCormack
owns the shop. He’s about seventy years old and has known
me all my life, so I know his concern is genuine, unlike Mrs.
Parkinson, who loves to gossip. She’s the town’s daily newspaper
and I see her in aisle three.
“I’m good, Mr. McCormack.”
“What can I get you, dear?”
“Black coffee, please.” When he comes back with my coffee,
I place the money in his hand and leave just as Mrs. Parkinson
is making a beeline for me.
“See you,” I call back to Mr. McCormack over my shoulder.
“Good-bye, dear,” he calls after me.
I cross the road and make my way into work. Susan and
Christine are already in the bookstore, talking about Susan’s
new love interest of the week.
“So who is the lucky fellow this time?” I ask while stashing
my bag under the counter. Susan fumbles with the books in her
hands while Christine makes herself busy.
“Oh, no one you know.” Susan places the books on the
trolley and starts pushing it down the aisle. I catch up with her,
blocking her way.
“Why are you guys acting so weird?”
Christine stops what she is doing. “Susan, just tell her.”
I place my hand on my hip, feeling irritated. “Tell me what?”
Susan lets out a heavy groan. “It’s Max. Look, I know you
guys had to listen to me after… well, you know, the last time,
but he’s changed. Really, Sarajane, he has.”
Oh God, Susan is asking for trouble and she knows it, but
I’m not her mother. “Whatever makes you happy, Susan, but
please, be careful.”
She gives me a smile. “He has changed. But what about Josh?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him and make sure he’s at least
pleasant.” Susan looks so relieved. “But if he isn’t, I really can’t
blame him.”
Christine joins in. “Me neither, Susan. Josh really helped you
out the last time with Max, and I don’t blame him for hating
the guy now.”
Now Susan looks worried again, but she keeps defending
Max, her ex, who hit her at a party. If Josh wasn’t there, I don’t
know how far he would have went, but yes, he was really drunk
and thought Susan kissed someone else, which she didn’t, but in
my mind, it was no excuse.
I change the subject, much to Susan’s relief, and we talk
about the upcoming ball that is in the next couple of days. I
didn’t get tickets, but around our small town there’s always
great excitement leading up to it.
The day goes by quickly and I’m grateful. I don’t know what
Susan is thinking, but she really seems adamant.
After work, I head home and stick a lasagna in the oven.
Food isn’t great since Mum’s missing and I was elected the chef.
I tidy over as I wait for the lasagna to cook. My phone vibrates
on the table. A text from Josh.
What are you doing tonight?
Sitting in with Dad and Jessica. I hit send and set the table.
My phone vibrates again.
Want company?
Sure.
Two minutes later, another text. See you at eight thirty.
Okay.
Dad arrives home as I’m dishing out dinner. He lands a kiss
on the top of my head. “Smells lovely.”
I laugh. “Don’t lie.”
Dad smiles back, but it’s weak. The circles under his eyes
indicate weeks of barely any sleep.
“Any word from the Garda today?”
Dad sits down and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes.
“No, love, nothing, not a trace.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Dad. I know we will.”
He places his hand over mine and pats it gently. “Yes… we
will.”
Jessica strolls into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad.” She hugs him
from behind.
“How was school, love?”
Jessica sits opposite Dad and starts at her dinner. “Boring.”
“Your mother would not like to hear that.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not here.” Jessica throws her knife and
fork down.
“Jess, we’re all upset,” I say.
“Don’t, Sarajane.” She storms out of the kitchen and up the
stairs.
“Sit down, sweetheart, and eat your dinner,” Dad says, his
voice drained. He gives me a small smile. “You know how she
is.”
I start eating my dinner, well, more like pushing it around
the plate. Jessica is highly sensitive and seems to find it hard to
control her emotions. When she’s in a bad mood, she can drain
a room, but in a good mood, she lights it up.
Dad and I finish dinner in silence, both caught up in our
thoughts.
After dinner, Dad goes to bed so I clean over the kitchen and
then curl up on the couch in the sitting room, flicking through
the stations. I’m not even focusing on what I’m doing.
“Hey, Sarajane.” Josh stands in the doorframe, nearly
touching the top. He’s over six foot tall and he’s well built, as he
plays rugby for our local team.
“Jesus, Josh, I didn’t even hear you come in.” I move over to
make room for him on the couch.
“The door was unlocked. So what are you watching?”
I turn off the TV. “Nothing, was just flicking. So any
news?”
He sighs. “No, work was slow and I just went to practice
after.” He gives a big stretch.
“Well, I had an interesting day at work.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, did some new romance novel
come in for you and the girls?”
I hit him with a cushion. “You’re funny.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” He grabs the remote and
turns on some car show.
“Do you not want to know what happened?” He has the
attention span of a flea when the TV is on. I grab the remote
and switch it off, getting his full attention.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
I go to the kitchen to get a drink. “Do you want a coke?”
“Sure,” Josh calls after me. I come back with two cokes and
hand Josh his. He doesn’t open it straight away, but rolls the can
around in his hands. “So tell me.”
I get comfortable on the couch. “Well, Susan is back with
Max.” Josh doesn’t respond. “But I know we’ll bump into them
at different times. So could you, like, try and be nice to him?”
Josh opens his coke and takes a long drink. “No.” I give him
an evil look, but he isn’t giving in. “No way, Sarajane. That guy
is a jerk, and to be honest, I don’t care what Susan does. I don’t
want you around him.” His words surprise me. Josh isn’t one
for telling me what to do.
“I am not allowed around him?” I say questioningly.
He gives me a look. “You know what I mean. He’s bad news.”
I tuck the cushion against me. “Well, I’ll be nice to him for
Susan’s sake.”
Josh turns back on the TV. “Suit yourself,” he says and starts
to watch the car show.
But my mind can’t focus. It has gone straight back to Mum,
wondering where she is now. Or what she’s doing.
I can see Josh look at me from the corner of his eye and he
lowers the volume. “You want to talk?” he asks. He knows the look on my face when I’m thinking about Mum.
“I miss her, so much, and I don’t know how I’ll cope if I never
see her again. I keep telling myself she’s on vacation and soon
she’ll walk in the door and start fretting about the mess of the
house and what meals we’ve been eating lately.” I give a small
laugh at the end, knowing she would be at her wits end if she
knew we had cut out vegetables since she was gone.
I can feel the tears falling down my face. I didn’t even realise