The Broken Parts Of Us (29 page)

She smiled weakly and reached up to touch the side of her neck. As soon as her fingers touched mine I could feel her soul rip into me, its anguish and sorrow begging my own soul for help. It was as though it screamed in agony and pleaded with me to make everything better.

We both gasped and she dropped her hand back down as she gave me a curious look but I refused to acknowledge the connection and smiled widely. “I think…” I swallowed harshly hoping my next words didn’t scare the shit out of her. “I think Frankie, that maybe that star, the bright one that matches the largest mole on your neck is maybe your Momma.”

She remained quiet but I studied her in the darkness as her eyes fixed back onto Capella and she took a deep breath. “It’s my fault my Momma’s now a star.”

I reared back slightly and tipped my head in surprise, “I doubt that very much.”

She nodded and the single tear that bled from her eye claimed my attention. I watched as it trickled down her face and over her large mole, pooling against it as if trying to dampen the grief held in her.

“I let them in.” she divulged quietly.

I gulped and slowly pulled in a fortifying breath, “The men who killed her?”

She nodded again but didn’t weep any further. “Yes. I was supposed to be going to Kimberly’s birthday party and I didn’t want to go. I stamped and kicked off until Momma gave in and let me stay home.” She turned to look at me and my jaw trembled at the expression of utter desolation in her eyes, “I don’t like Kimberly. She’s mean to me.”

I nodded to her in understanding. “Go on.” I urged as she shifted her gaze back to the sky.

“Momma was on the phone to someone in the kitchen. She was shouting and I knew she was worried about something so when the doorbell went, I went to answer it for her.”

Her voice was becoming more choked and strained and I shivered against the chill that was now enveloping us, the dandelion seeds wisping around us angrily as though responding to Frankie’s misery.

“Did they hurt you, Frankie?” I could feel the anger as well as the dandelions at the thought of someone hurting this little girl. I couldn’t describe how intense the connection was that I felt towards her, it was inexplicable even to me but I let it ride over me and accepted its command.

“No.” A sob tore through her and I clenched my fists at her pain, “Momma dragged me back and pushed me into the cellar as they chased us through the house.”

Holy Fuck!

“But she didn’t come with me!” Her voice now grew more distraught, “Why didn’t she come with me?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Frankie. Maybe she thought leading them away from you protected you.”

She shrugged and sniffed back her sorrow but she turned to me and her whole face broke with her soul, “I heard them.”

I titled my head at her and frowned in slight confusion, “You heard them?”

She nodded, “I heard them… beat her. She screamed really loud and I couldn’t get to her. She had locked the door and I couldn’t get out.”

Fuck! I was fifteen damn it but the sound of Frankie’s pain fractured something inside me and I cried like a fucking ten year old with her, both of us choking on each of our sobs.

“I couldn’t get to her,” she repeated hoarsely. “And I fell down the stairs. It was so dark in there and I missed the step. I was trying to get to the bottom to find something to hit the men with but I fell… I fell and I couldn’t get to her.”

We both wept for a while as we watched the moon move in its journey across the sky. Each of us lost in our heads as the seeds scattered around us when the wind dropped back down.

I felt her hand shift across the gap between us and then her little finger slipped around mine, linking my soul with hers. The sensation of her touch shivered through my core but I bit it back and gave her the support she was looking for.

She sighed faintly and her eyes closed. I grimaced as her Father’s shouts came across the field and she snapped upright.

“It’s okay, little Capella, he’s not angry with you. He’s just looking for you cos’ he’s worried.” I told her gently when I sensed her panic.

She shook her head and I wasn’t sure if it was denial at my nickname for her or my statement. Her chest stuttered, “No, he hates me.”

“Now I know that’s not true. How can he hate you?”

“Because I was the reason for Momma dying.”

I sighed and sat up next to her, “Frankie. You know deep down that isn’t true. Those men were the ones who took your Momma away from both you and your Father, not you.”

“But I didn’t go to the party; if I had then they wouldn’t have come. They wouldn’t have hurt her. They wouldn’t have killed her.”

“And I suppose if you’d have gone to the party then your Momma would have died alone and with no one in the house to comfort her last breaths.”

She turned to stare at me then her eyes eased and softened but I continued, “Life is shit, Frankie. Stuff happens and we are the ones left to take the backlash of it. Your Momma,” I pointed up to the star and waited for her to follow my gaze. “Your Momma is watching you and you can bet she’s cross that you blame yourself. None of this was your fault and I’m quite positive your Pop doesn’t blame you at all. Talk with him.”

I looked up as her Father stumbled across the field towards us and fell to his knees before Frankie, pulling her harshly into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and sobbed into her hair.

I got to my feet and turned my back on them, leaving them to their own time and privacy but as I reached the edge of the field I turned back once more. They were still hugging tightly and I smiled softly.

Something had shifted inside me that night. I didn’t know what it was and I never knew but I didn’t take it for granted and I never forgot the connection we had both felt.

I knew I wouldn’t see her again for a long time. I felt it as deep as I felt that she would always remain with me, in my soul. Her own soul still clung to mine in a desperate attempt to obtain some peace but I allowed it and swore if it was my last breath that I ever used, that I would give it the serenity it craved.

I would take its grief and I would soothe it.

I would consume its anger and calm it.

And then, when it was ready; when it was mended and once again whole, then I would return it to her.

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PROLOGUE

June 16
^th
, 1990

To my darling Savannah,

My gorgeous baby girl, you have finally arrived. You rushed into our world at 10:48 a.m., barely allowing your mum and me enough time to get to the hospital. Sydney was covered by clouds and gloomy weather, but as soon as you took your first breath and the nurse laid you on your mum’s chest, the sun burst through, my little ray of sunshine.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t wail, you didn’t look distressed when you were born only hours ago. You, my darling, looked beautiful, content, and your little pout and blond fuzz had the nurses fussing; you were already a little heartbreaker. Your big green eyes searched the room before locking onto mine. It was at that moment that I knew I was in danger of my heart exploding with love. The moment you first grabbed my finger was a moment I will never forget. I was the proudest dad in the world.

I love you more than any words can describe. You are as beautiful as your mum and you are already a cheeky little monkey I can’t stand to be away from for even a moment.

My baby girl, I cannot wait to watch you take your first steps, to hear you say your first words, to hear you laugh as you have your first taste of Vegemite, and to hold your hand when we take you to the beach for the first time. I hope the ocean means as much to you as it does me. Your life is yours, and I am looking forward to watching you in the many years to come. I can’t wait to hold your hand at school dances. I can’t wait to watch you make friends at school. I can’t wait until you fall in love, and I can’t wait until your life is exactly what you want it to be.

Savannah, I cannot guarantee what life will be like, but that’s the beauty of life, my girl. Right at this moment, as I look down at you on the bed, I am overwhelmed with the thought of your life ahead. I cannot wait to spend every waking moment protecting, encouraging, loving, caring, and shielding you. Life is going to be tough, my beautiful girl. Life will throw you curveballs. Life may try and destroy you, but what matters most is that life will also be beautiful, astonishing, overwhelming, and adventurous. It’s yours to live.

You will make friends. You will lose friends. You will make mistakes. You will be hurt. You will fall in love, and you will have your heart broken, but then someone will come along when you least expect it, and be everything you need, just like how your mum came to me. Don’t be afraid to feel. Don’t be afraid to live. Don’t be afraid to do whatever you need to survive. This is your journey, Savannah, and I will always be the proudest dad in the world. I can’t wait until I am an old man sitting in my rocking chair, watching you as a grown woman, and being so incredibly proud of you, which I know I will be.

I hope you get your mum’s beauty and my stubbornness, and I hope you get your mum’s heart and my determination. Mostly, I hope you find yourself and become the person you will be proud of.

No matter what life you are handed, whatever you are dealt, whatever struggles you may face, please remember to
just breathe
. Just breathe, Savannah, because that’s all you will need.

I love you with every inch of my beating heart. I adore you with every breath I take. I will protect you every day of your life.

You are my baby, always and forever.

Dad xx

CHAPTER ONE

 “Savannah Rae, stop eye-fucking the immigration officer!”

I peeled my eyes from the blushing immigration officer in front of me and shifted my amused gaze to Mr. Davenport, who was piercing me with death glares. This wasn’t anything new to me; being scolded by Mr. Davenport was something I was very accustomed to. In my twenty-two years, his tendency to reprimand me for doing anything unladylike was something legends were made of.

 “I need a stiff drink,” Mr. Davenport growled as he headed toward a bar called Blue Diamonds. He weaved his way through the arrivals lounge with a confident strut, intimidating those around him, and I had to rush, taking two steps at a time to try and catch up. I grumbled to myself. All I wanted to do was go and sleep off the imminent jet lag that was bubbling in me, have a long overdue shower, and eat copious amounts of comfort food. Did he not realize we had just travelled for eighteen hours straight?

I was about to start calling Los Angeles home. I was born and bred Australian, with a thick accent to match, but the opportunity to follow Mr. Davenport to Los Angeles to take on the role of executive assistant to the creative director of Beautify Magazine was almost too good to be true.

Beautify Magazine covered all of my loves—music, fashion, and lifestyle. Beautify had offices in all of the major cities—Los Angeles, New York, Paris, London, and Sydney—and I was fortunate enough as an eighteen-year-old to be whisked away to Sydney to start my first-ever job as Mr. Davenport’s assistant. I loved my job. It changed every day and gave me the opportunity to escape from reality. Some days I worked on fashion shoots, other days I was reviewing music, and others I was stuck in the office working closely with Mr. Davenport on reports. It kept my mind active and that’s what I needed.

Los Angles was going to be a whole new ball game. I couldn’t deny that the opportunity to relocate hadn’t excited the pants off me, but most importantly, it allowed me to run yet again. And running was what I seemed to do so well.

“Long Island Iced Tea, I assume?” Mr. Davenport asked. I nodded and took a seat by the large glass windows that gave me full view of the incoming flights. I had a faint idea as to why we were hanging around the airport, and it made me nervous as hell. Mr. Davenport was known to lob what he called a “to the point” chat on me when I least expected it, and I had a feeling I was about to be subjected to one of them. He was a smart man because he was going to get me at my most vulnerable: tired, cranky, hungry, and bordering on delirious due to impending jet lag.

The familiar ding of an incoming text pulled me away from my thoughts and I recognized the name immediately.

Sav! Are you here yet? I am so excited! Everyone is so excited to meet you. I tell people you are Australian and they literally start frothing at the mouth. We must have dinner and drinks tonight. Cannot wait! Love, Tanzi x

Tanzi had been given the official role of being my “Get Savannah settled into Los Angeles” buddy. She worked in the PR department of Beautify Magazine, and we had been in constant contact since I accepted the job. She was funny, witty, feisty, and adorable. If I needed to know anything about L.A., she was my go-to girl. A walking encyclopedia, as I called her. In the past month, she had excitedly told me all the places I had to visit, where to shop, where to buy amazing coffee, and where I could find guys.

The thing was that I had chosen to not tell her that I didn’t do relationships, and I hadn’t for the past five years. I was the one who was all about casual, no-strings-attached, emotionless, once-only hookups. I almost felt like I was allergic to relationships. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I didn’t want a relationship, and honestly, I didn’t even know if “Savannah” and “relationship” would ever be spoken in the same sentence again. My friends called me a man-eater. That was survival to me, and that was how I planned on surviving Los Angeles.

Hey Tanzi,

I am currently at LAX having a cocktail with Mr. Davenport. I will let you know when I get settled. Can’t wait to see you! I am definitely keen for dinner and drinks. See you soon xx S