Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One Page 5

  “Of course,” her dad muttered. “Thank god.”

  “What’s wrong? Is Mum okay?” she begged.

  He stared at her, expression vague. “Hmm?”

  Snapping into action at last, he turned back, then came to the door holding Beth in his arms. Rhiannon stared, aghast. Her beautiful, vibrant mum was a shell of her former self. Last night she’d looked like a wraith when the glamour had slipped, but today she was twice as pale, twice as frail, twice as deathly ill. Her face was grey-tinged, and she looked like she weighed no more than a child, no more than her five-year-old son Brodie, so thin had she become, so small did she look crushed against her husband’s chest. And he was clearly terrified, and terribly unsure of himself.

  “She passed out,” he finally whispered. “And… I can’t even tell if she’s breathing.” There were tears in his eyes, and he was gulping in air in desperate, ragged gasps.

  Rhiannon’s heart lurched at the horror of how fragile her mother had become. Yet she was so brave. What had happened to her in the woods last night was nothing compared to what her mum was going through every waking moment, battling this illness, battling her mortality, battling her fear – and on top of all that, trying to convince them all that she was okay, to save them any pain.

  She really had to get over herself. Stop feeling like a victim, and being so selfish, and focus on what was important. Her mum was in pain, was in hell, and the last thing she needed was to deal with her daughter’s stupid drama on top of everything else.

  Something switched over inside Rhiannon, as she accepted that she would have to take control of the situation. Brushing past her dad, she walked into their room and gathered up her mum’s coat, the one she’d let her daughter wear the night before, and tucked it gently around her frail body.

  Then, trying not to breathe in the scent of illness that pervaded the room, she picked up her mum’s largest handbag and threw one of her favourite dresses into it, along with her hairbrush and the blend of essential oils she loved. After that she raced into the ensuite, opened the cabinet above the sink and grabbed a new toothbrush, some toothpaste and the pain meds she’d seen her mum taking.

  It was all done in a moment, then she was leading her dad out of the room and down the stairs, picking up the car keys from the hall table and marching them outside. Opening the back door of the car, she pushed her dad, still holding her mum, inside, and shuddered at the fear etched deep in his face.

  “It will be okay Dad,” she murmured, although she was no longer sure that was true. “Put the seatbelt on, it will probably wrap around both of you,” she added, feeling another shiver of horror at just how tiny and insubstantial her mum had become. So frail and fragile, as though she was shrinking before their eyes. Not planning a dramatic exit, just resigned to fading slowly away, until she disappeared altogether.

  Not bothering to put the L plate on the back window, she slid into the driver’s seat, muttered a quick prayer, then reversed out into the street. Fortunately there was little traffic, and the hospital wasn’t far, because she didn’t know how long she could maintain her confidence. She’d only had a few driving lessons, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw two empty parking spaces in front of the emergency entrance.

  Screeching to a halt, she threw on the handbrake, turned off the ignition and pulled out the key, then flew around to the other side and helped her dad, still clutching Beth close to his chest, out of the car. He looked unsure of what to do again, so she pushed him in front of her and through the sliding doors. Once inside, she ran ahead, frantic, calling for a doctor.

  The duty nurse took one look at her dad’s face, and the bundle in his arms, and paged someone. Then she grabbed a wheelchair herself, wrestled Beth out of his arms and into it, and wheeled her down the corridor. Mike stared after her, the look of helpless terror still on his face, until the nurse turned back and gestured impatiently at him to follow them.

  Rhiannon watched as they moved through another set of doors and disappeared from view. The burst of adrenaline that had given her the strength to take charge and get her parents to the hospital ebbed away, and she shivered, her lip trembling and her eyes starting to well as she slid down the wall onto the floor, all the nervous energy that had animated her through the morning’s crisis leaving her as fast as it had arrived. Dropping her head onto her knees, she wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and finally let the tears fall. Sobs shook her body as she cried as silently as possible.

  She cried for her mum, and the pain she was so clearly in.

  She cried for her dad, who was struggling so hard to keep it together, but who seemed to be retreating further and further away from them, as though his fate was linked to his wife’s.

  She cried for her little brother, who couldn’t understand what was happening, but was reacting to the fear everyone around him was feeling.

  And she cried for herself. Right now she needed her mum more than ever. How could Beth be planning to leave her all alone? Didn’t she know how much the family needed her? How on earth were they going to cope without her?

  Time stopped and started and stopped again, until finally one of the nurses came out to the corridor, and Rhiannon gazed up at her, desperation in her eyes, fear in every sharp angle of her body. Part of her wanted to know what the white-clad woman standing over her was going to tell her, because maybe it was good news. Another part of her was sure it could only be bad though, and quailed in terror at knowing with certainty. Yet the not-knowing was crushing her.

  “You can go to school now,” the nurse said brusquely. “Your mother has stabilised, so she will be fine.”

  Her face paled as Rhiannon gasped, and she looked regretful and suitably uncomfortable over her choice of words. “Well, she’ll recover from this setback,” she clarified. “And then she’ll continue her battle to overcome the greater issue.”

  The “greater issue”. Wasn’t that a handy euphemism. Rhiannon’s face was blank, but her eyes were pools of hurt. “But what caused this?” she begged, even though she didn’t really want the answer. Not if it was what she suspected.

  Was it her fault her mum was even worse today, after having to go out into the storm and rescue her last night? Because if that was the case, she knew the guilt would destroy her.

  “She’s just pushed herself a bit too hard,” the nurse said. “We’re going to keep her in today so she can rest, and we’ll observe her overnight too, just to be sure. But she’ll be okay.”

  As Rhiannon trembled on the floor, she didn’t look like she was okay, or that she thought her mum would be okay, or that she believed anything would ever be okay again, but she smiled grimly at the nurse, even as her heart broke within her chest. “It’s my fault,” she whispered.

  The nurse shook her head, clearly impatient to get back to the ward. “It’s no one’s fault, it’s just part of your mother’s illness,” she said, voice coolly professional, briskly reassuring. “Now, you head off to school, and make your parents proud of you. You can come back this afternoon, okay?”

  The young girl nodded absently, but continued to sit where she was on the floor, shoulders hunched, unable to convince her legs to lift her to her feet.

  “Do you need me to get someone to drive you?” the nurse asked, her suddenly clipped tone revealing her exasperation.

  Although all Rhiannon wanted to do was curl up on the floor right there and fall into oblivion, she finally managed to stand up and haul her bag onto her shoulder. Feeling something sharp in her pocket, she fished out the keys to the family car.

  “Could you give these back to Dad for me?” she asked, and the nurse smiled at her.

  “Of course dear. And are you sure you’re okay to walk to school? I’m sorry if I seemed pushy, it’s been a busy morning…”

  Rhiannon stared at her blankly for a moment, then forced herself to speak as calmly as she could. “It’s fine, I’m just struggling to focus on anything else but Mum right now, so I guess a walk will do me good
,” she replied, and reluctantly made her way outside. It was cold in the shade, but she liked the numbing effect of the wind on her face, on her ears, on her hands. It matched the feeling of her heart, frozen inside her, incapable of thought or action or care.

  “Happy Birthday Mum,” she whispered as she gazed back at the hospital, then slowly, sadly, turned away.

  * * * * *

  Dragging her feet up the front steps to school was even more difficult than she’d imagined. It felt as though she was wearing concrete boots, which got heavier with each foot fall. She didn’t know how she was going to face her class, let alone Debbie. And speak of the devil…

  “Hey, did you see my brother last night?” she demanded, eyebrows raised and voice a strange mix of anger and approval.

  “Wait Deb,” Sue interrupted, noticing Rhiannon’s pale face. “Are you okay? How’s your mum?”

  Tears filled Rhiannon’s eyes, and she scrubbed at them, annoyed at her weakness. “We had to rush her back to hospital this morning,” she whispered. Sighing, she tried to convince herself as well as her friends that it was only her mum’s ill health that was upsetting her, but there were tears of fear and shame and self-loathing too. Her face reddened as she felt Debbie’s brother’s hands on her shoulders again, felt them moving lower, felt his horrible hot mouth running over her body.

  When a hand closed on her arm, she jumped and cried out, spinning around to face her attacker.

  “Rhiannon, hey, it’s just me,” her teacher Ms Henderson said quickly, apology in her tone, kindness in her eyes. “Are you all right? Your dad called, and told me Beth had a bad turn this morning. If you need to go home…” she offered, her words hanging in the air between them.

  Shaking her head as she tried to shake off the feeling of revulsion creeping over her, she somehow choked out enough words to let them know she would rather be at school, with her mind on other things, while the doctors did what they could. Her two friends switched to sympathy mode, and she was grateful for their concern – and for the change in topic their teacher had wrought. What on earth was she going to say to Debbie next time the conversation turned to her brother?

  Relief filled her as her friends headed off to history while she got ready for English, and she somehow managed to sleepwalk through the first half of the day. But as she grabbed her books from her locker after lunch, a guy from the year above her pushed his way over to her and looked her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl.

  “So, did you have fun last night?” he asked, loudly, as he leered at her. “Evan said you had a late night rendezvous planned, and I bet you were a fire cracker in the sack. What do they say about witches – easy and slutty? How about meeting me in the woods tonight?”

  Shock froze Rhiannon in place, even as every instinct in her demanded she run far away. Icy fear clutched at her stomach, and she felt her head spinning and her cheeks burning, even as all colour drained away. Bile rose in her throat, and she knew she was about to throw up. Not that even that could make her feel any more mortified than she already was.

  Horror rolled over her in waves – horror that anyone else could know what had happened to her in the woods, horror that Debbie and Sue would soon find out, horror that this one incident would become what she was known for and defined by for the rest of her high school days.

  But even worse than the horror was the shame. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. How could she face her fellow students, face her friends, face her family? Her mum had promised she would tell no one about it, and she hadn’t – yet it seemed as though the whole town would soon know anyway. She felt the shame spiralling around her, hot and heavy, felt his hands holding her down and his breath on her face. Stars spun above her as blackness closed in around her, and she was dimly aware of the rolling crash of thunder overhead as she slid to the floor.

  When she floated back to awareness, she was sitting on the ground – again – propped up against her locker, and Ms Henderson was standing over her, lines of worry etched deeply in her forehead and around her mouth. “Rhiannon, please, are you okay?” she repeated, voice urgent. “What happened?”

  Rory stood behind her, wide-eyed and nervous.

  “Um, I’m okay,” she whispered, then laughed inwardly. Yeah, real okay. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I just want to know if you’re all right. Are you sick? Has this happened before? What do you need? What can I do?”

  Rhiannon shrugged. “I was just a bit dizzy, but I’m okay now, I promise. I guess I’ve been too stressed to eat properly or something, worrying about Mum,” she muttered. Dear god, could this day get any worse? She’d wanted no attention, no detection, but somehow everyone seemed to be focusing on her, seemed to know she was having a terrible time.

  “Rory, go to the vending machine, get her a chocolate biscuit,” their teacher barked, pulling some money out of the bag she had slung over her shoulder. “Hurry up.”

  He scurried off to do as she’d asked, then fled the moment he handed it over. There was a fleeting sense of satisfaction for Rhiannon that he looked so regretful of the chain reaction he’d set off. Ms Henderson waited with her, making sure she ate every bite of the cookie. Only when she’d finished the whole thing did some of the panic leave her face, and her expression soften. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she finally asked.

  Rhiannon nodded miserably. Okay. What did that even mean? And why did people keep asking her if she was, when she so clearly wasn’t? But she wasn’t going to throw up the biscuit she’d been made to eat, so she guessed that could pass as okay in this world where no one knew she was dying of shame.

  “Why don’t you go back to the hospital and see your mum,” her teacher suggested, snapping her back to the present. The present where she wanted to disappear from the world. “You can make up this afternoon’s classes tomorrow.”

  “But Brodie –” she began. How hard would it be for him to cope with seeing their mum looking as frail as she had that morning? It was scary enough for her to see it.

  Ms Henderson held out her hand and gently hauled her to her feet. “I’ll call Ben’s mother – I’m sure Brodie can go home with him this afternoon, and stay there until you and your dad are ready to pick him up. Now go, and please give my love to Beth,” she said, and Rhiannon remembered belatedly that her teacher was a close friend of her mum’s. She wasn’t the only one who was hurting.

  Running all the way to the hospital left her with a bad stitch, so she paused for a moment, leaning against the low entrance wall as she gathered her thoughts and tried to control her gasps for air. She’d been so desperate to get here – but now that she’d arrived, all she wanted to do was run away. To bolt for home, fly up the stairs to her bedroom, bury herself under her huge quilt and hide away from the cruelty of the world.

  But she owed her mother more than that. First she had to apologise again about last night, for dragging her out into the cold woodland to save her, then adding insult to injury by taking her coat. And then... well, she really needed a hug, and for her mum to hold her and comfort her and reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. Then tell her how to recover from it and move on. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  With a great effort she pulled herself together, mentally and physically, hoisted her backpack over her shoulder, and walked through the hospital gate. Electricity started to crackle in the air around her...

  Chapter 6

  Heart Connections

  Beth... Twenty years ago...

  From her bedroom window upstairs, Beth gazed down at the path to their front door, and smiled as she saw Violet walking slowly along it. It filled her heart with joy to know that this girl liked her, that she wanted to be friends with her. She’d been shocked when Rose’s daughter had called her last week to invite her to an upcoming ritual, then suggested meeting up for a coffee that very afternoon. And today she’d come to pick her up so they could go to the movies with Mike, since for some
reason she still hadn’t figured out, they both seemed to like her, and want to spend time with her.

  But now she sighed as she watched the dark-haired girl standing on the doorstep of their huge house. Violet looked nervous, as though the obvious wealth made her feel out of her depth, slightly less-than – which unfortunately was her mother’s intention. Money had never meant anything to Beth, and she’d always hated that her parents used theirs to intimidate people, and intimidate her friends, especially as they had no plans to share it with her. Which was fine, since she didn’t want it. It just hurt when people judged her on it.

  As Violet stared down at her clothes then looked even more nervous, Beth felt butterflies in her stomach. She knew that right at this moment Violet was wondering what she was doing here, and why Beth would want to be friends with her. It had happened so many times growing up, and she’d become used to people making excuses not to play with her, or visit.

  But before Violet could change her mind and go back home – leaving her to spend another day alone in this cold, empty house – Beth’s haughty, condescending mother opened the front door and stared imperiously at her friend.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, in a tone that suggested that was the last thing she would want to do.

  “Hello Mrs Bishop, I hope you are well. I just came over to pick up Beth, because we’re going to the movies today,” Violet stammered anxiously.

  The woman continued to glare at her, giving nothing away. “And you are?” The sneer in her voice was pronounced. Beth cringed. As if she didn’t know exactly who she was – everyone knew everyone in this village, a fact that had suffocated Beth when she was growing up. This was just another ploy of her mother’s to ensure people knew that she was more important than them – in her own mind at least.

  “I’m so sorry, my name’s Violet, Violet Tyler. I’m a friend of Beth’s, and Mike’s,” she explained, her voice still a little shaky. No doubt she was starting to realise just why Beth wanted to escape her family and spend time with her and Mike, anywhere but here.