Field - Fractures

Table of Contents

FRACTURES

2016 M. R. Field

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN-10: 0-646-96283-3

ISBN-13: 978-0-646-96283-2

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously and are coincidental. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All products mentioned in this book belong to their rightful owners.

I do not claim any of these products to be my own.

'Any songs lyrics used are not affiliated with the author.

Edited by Lauren McKellar

http://mcstellarediting.blogspot.com.au

Proofread by Faye Gemmellaro

and Eva LeNoir

Formatted by Max Effect

www.formaxeffect.com

WHAT SOME BLOGGERS ARE SAYING ABOUT M R FIELD:

"M.R.Field creates a romantic masterpiece, and it reminds us of the chivalry that still exists somewhere." Komal Chandwani, The Library Whisp

M R Field is one of those rare stand out authors who writes amazing unique books that have you hooked from the first page. Grab your oxygen mask because you won't be coming up for air! Lisa Sleiman, The Literary Gossip

"Everything M R Field writes is eloquent and emotive. Every word she writes drags you into her world and captures your attention until you've run out of words to read, leaving you begging for more" Bexxy, Desperately Seeking HEA's Book Blog

NOTE FOR THE READER

This book is set in Australia and has been written using UK English and contains euphemisms and slang words that form part of the Australian spoken word, which is the basis of this books writing style.

Please remember, that the words are not misspelled, they are slang terms and form part of the everyday, Australian lifestyle.

If you would like further explanation, or to discuss the translation or meaning of a particular word, please do not hesitate to contact the author contact details have been provided, for your convenience, at the end of this book.

To my beautiful nieces and nephew,

Always strive to be the best that you can be. Youre pretty awesome already, so it wont take you long to get there.

I love you.

Love, Zia xxoo

Know that I fought, Trinity, with every part of me, I fought.

Love, M

TRINITY

Autumn, 2007

The soft wind kisses my tear-stained cheeks as I watch in hopeless silence as the mahogany wooden coffin lowers into the deep, dark hole. The purple ribbons that lace through the steel handles catch flickers of sunlight as the funeral staff lower the coffin down slowly. With each movement, my heart beats erratically against my chest. My eyes linger on the sprigs of lavender, yellow sunflowers, and red gerberas that sit on top of the dark wood. Flowers that often filled our house with their sweet scent are now a bitter reminder of what our house will no longer be. The ribbons lower as I clutch my mothers memorial booklet to my chest, wanting to reach out and touch the casket just one last time.

My mother hated being in cramped places. My chest seizes in panic, only to release a harsh breath that thunders in my chest as the tears continue to fall. Shes so cramped in there. Is she cold? Uncomfortabl e? My father stands by my side, his arms draped tightly around my shoulders as his pain-filled sobs thrash against me. His voice, tinged with agony, cries out for his wife. Lifting the booklet, I stare at the photo taken during our last family trip together. Before our world turned to shit. Her windswept hair lay across her brow, and her deep blue eyes stared back into the camera as her wide smile tore through me, fracturing my thoughts.

Another photo? She giggles at my father. Dont you have enough, Felix? Take a photo of that tree or something. Now, that is beauty. Nature at its best.

Never, Harmony, he replies. Now, sit there and give me that smile, darl.

Itll cost you a kiss. She laughs.

Eww, guys. Your only child is standing right here.

Whats your point? My dad quirks his eyebrow at me. You do realise, you got here somehow. He winks at my mother, moving closer to her to steal a quick peck. I shake my head. Gross.

Cant wait for you to go crazy and gooey over a guy, baby girl. She giggles, her lips barely apart from his.

No way. I cross my arms. Now, can you take your damn picture?

Yes, maam! That guy will have to be able to deal with her feisty attitude too. My dad raises the camera to his eyes as I raise my eyebrow at him, unimpressed. Whatever. Click.

That smile that stared back at me from the shiny booklet was all I needed on a bad day. After I struggled to get my designs to fruition, that smile made me believe I was worth something and could conquer anything. That smile brought warmth into a dark room. Now, that smile was becoming a memory. The face that remained was now descending into the cold, hard earth. The flowers are no longer visible, and I reach out into the crisp air. Shes too far away from me.

No, I sob, as the ribbon continues to winch her down. Breaking free of my dads grasp, I step forward to peer over the edge of the grave. Reaching its final destination, her coffin halts against the dirt.

Shell freeze down there, I cry. I point to the casket. Dad, she needs her afghan. Did you put it with her, or her scented candles? The ones for her headaches The soft lyrics of Eva Cassidys What a Wonderful World float through the air as I struggle to stay standing. This was not a wonderful world. Far fucking from it. My mothers favourite song, taunting me with every beat of my broken heart.

My fathers musky scent lingers behind me as his hands grip my shoulder.

Baby girl. His voice cracks, as he pulls me into his chest. Shes gone.

But, I wasnt here I sob, the guilt building up in my throat. I never got to say goodbye. Or tell her I loved her one last time. She didnt hear me while I stood near her.

She knew, he sniffs, his arm trembling across my front.

I was too late. Ill never forgive myself, I whisper. Around us, the congregation moves to throw petals into the grave. The pastor holds the basket out to me and I gently reach forward and take a petal, my eyes filling with tears once again. My father loosens his arm from my front and moves to grab his own. I step closer to the mouth of the grave and raise the petal to my lips. Im so, so sorry, Mum. Im a selfish bitch and you deserved better. I clench my eyes shut for a moment and plead for forgiveness before my trembling arm lifts and the petal falls from my shaky fingertips. It lands against the cold, hard wood, and the moment of finality hits me like a baton to my chest. I wheeze and clutch my side, my legs bending, unable to take my weight as I collapse against the mound of dirt, my knees scraping against it. The pain tears across my skin, but I dont care. Nothing is as painful as staring into my mothers grave. I tremble, not feeling the cold but the despair that rips at my insides.

She is gone.

I wasted her last moments.

I will never forgive myself.

Im a fucking coward.

The mattress rustles beneath my thighs as I clutch the stiff cream paper. With tremulous hands, I run my finger across my endearment, baby girl. With a deep breath, I unfold the crisp letter and begin to read.