Saving Amy (47 page)

I set the photos down in a neat pile on the coffee table and unfolded a letter. It was written with black ink in handwriting I didn’t recognise on yellow paper (although I think it used to be white).

Dear, Mary,

Please don’t do this to me. Please don’t take my baby girl from me. Access – that’s all I want. Twice a week, once a week, once
a
goddamn month - I’ll take anything! Please don’t keep her from me Mary. I’m begging you with all my heart. I’ve accepted that you’re moving on, that you don’t love me anymore – but do you really hate me this much? This is killing me Mary. I love her. I NEED her! Please let me see my little Amy. PLEASE.

Jack

Going off the letter it sounded like he actually gave a shit. But I knew that couldn’t be true because according to the sloppily written address in the corner he only lived in Boise, Idaho. That was what, a seven hour drive maybe?
An hour on a flight?
Obviously too far out of his way to come and save me.
I rolled my eyes, handed the letter to Richard and picked up the next one.

Mary,

What the hell kind of lawyer is he? I can’t find a single attorney willing to help me take him on, but then I’m sure you’re well aware of that. I WANT ACCESS TO MY DAUGHTER! Just call me, PLEASE. Use a payphone if you don’t want me knowing your number – I don’t care. Just call! We can sort this out. It’s gone too far. We used to love each other didn’t we? I was a good husband and a great father. This isn’t fair and you know it. I need my girl back Mary. I’m begging you.

Jack

The envelopes were missing so with no postmark I had no idea when the letters were sent. I started to wonder how long I knew him for, how long I
loved
him for, how long I belonged to a
real
family for.

How long it took him to give up on me?

There was one letter left. The ink was blotchy as if it’d been cried over. I wondered whose tears they were, his or hers.

Mary,

I promise this is the last time. You’ve won. HE’S won. I just need you to promise me one thing – please don’t let him hurt our baby. Whatever he’s done to me, whatever he’s STILL doing to you – promise you’ll keep her safe. She’s our little girl Mary.
Our little Amy.
She’s almost five now and as much as it breaks my heart, I know she probably doesn’t remember me anymore. But I also want you to promise that if you ever get the chance, please tell her much I love her, and that I’ll never EVER stop thinking about her.

How did things get here Mary? How did life become so unbearable?

Jack

Fresh tear stained splodges marked the paper as I read it. I dropped it onto my lap and willingly allowed my tears to flow. He gave up. He stopped trying. He abandoned me. He left me to suffer.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I said with a hollow heart. I felt lost, empty… everything and everyone I ever knew had been a lie.

“You’re Amy,” Richard said, enfolding me in his arms, “
My
Amy. My beautiful, strong, brave, fucked-up little Amy.” I could feel the muscles in his cheeks turn up into a smile against my forehead. “And I love you more than life itself.”

I buried my face into his chest, sobbing into his black, fleecy gown. We stayed like this for what could’ve been forever. He stroked my hair and shushed me until my tears ran dry and I fell into an exhausted, overwhelmed sleep.

**********

It was Thanksgiving - my first Thanksgiving where I actually had something to be thankful for. This year, for the first time ever, I was thankful to be alive. I was thankful for knowing the meaning of happiness, of love, of friendship, of courage… and I was most thankful for the person who made all of those things possible – I was thankful for Richard. And, I never thought I’d say it, but I was also thankful for Richard’s pre-existing friendship with Vanessa. Hence the reason I was also thankful I had my job back. Last but not least, I was thankful that this godforsaken, itchy and sweaty as hell cast was coming off my hand in three days.

After quite a lengthy battle with my subconscious, I eventually decided not to look for my real father. I’d not ruled it out forever, but right now I was just too bitter, too hurt. If he loved me as much as he said her did, he would have saved me, right? No matter what the cost or consequences.

I didn’t reach my decision until the day of my mom’s funeral. I attended her cremation as an official mourner instead of skulking behind bushes. In fact, Richard and I were the
only
people to attend. She said in her letter she was setting me free and although I couldn’t deny her suicide and my dad’s (well,
Jim’s
) death hit me hard – harder than it should, harder than
they
deserved it too– I did in fact feel free, exonerated even. I felt lighter, calmer,
hopeful…

And so, I decided I needed a break from parents. So far all three had let me down, allowed me to suffer, scarred me in every way imaginable – and so (possibly selfishly) I didn’t want to find my father. I didn’t
need
a father. I didn’t need anyone except the man who saved my life – Richard.

Richard took me to visit my grandmother’s grave at Lake View yesterday. I must have walked by it dozens of times in the past without a clue. All those times I missed her or wanted to talk to her, and she was right there. I’d never forgive Jim for keeping me away from her. The pain of knowing I missed out on four extra years with the only woman who ever loved me – or at least
showed
it - hurt far more than any beating he had to offer me.

Her headstone was so small and impersonal. It was a tiny grey oblong stone, which stood no higher than my calves. On it was my grandmother’s name, date of birth and date of death – that’s it. No ‘Loving Mother’, no ‘Rest in Peace’…
nothing.
Richard suggested we get it replaced to which I immediately agreed, and so we were planning a visit to the monumental mason’s after the holidays.

Julie was back home for the holidays and she only admitted yesterday that she would be staying here in Seattle indefinitely after being kicked out of college. I wasn’t as surprised as I should’ve been. Every conversation
between us centred around parties and boys –
not once did I hear her talk about classes or studying.

She told me the news during my lunch break at work yesterday. This was also when she met Rob for the first time and decided that he was gorgeous in an Alex Pettyfer kind of way and she wanted to have his babies. Poor Rob. He was totally doomed.

Joanna had shown her first shred of decency since I’d known her and stayed the hell away from me. Richard wasn’t so lucky of course - he still had to work with her. But as far as I knew (and as far as I
wanted
to know) their relationship was strictly professional.

Everything just seemed to have slotted into place like a jigsaw puzzle. I was living a life I never deemed possible – a life filled with even more hope and happiness than in the endings of my favourite books. Would it last? I had no idea. But if there was one thing this year had taught me, it’s that I was strong enough to get through whatever shit life tried to throw at me. And you know what, I’d finally accepted that I did deserve to be happy. I’d taken my fair share of crap and then some – it was about time life cut me some slack.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said to Richard when he strolled into the living room all half-naked and wet after his shower.
Yummy…
“I want to change my name.”

“
Why
? I like the name Amy,” he said seriously, wrestling with his lips to stop them turning up into a smile.

“My surname, douchebag!”

“
Douchebag?
Seriously? Sorry, what grade are we in again?” I pouted, fighting against my own smile and then threw a cream, feather cushion at him.

“So that’s how you wanna play, huh?”

Uh oh…

Richard charged towards me and I stepped from side to side, trying to outsmart him. I blocked his path by running behind the coffee table but then in a move I was totally not expecting, he leapt straight over it and wrestled me to the ground – losing his towel along the way.

“Hmm, naked wrestling? I kinda like it,” I teased with a wink.

“Only problem is, only one of us is naked,” he teased back, unbuttoning my shirt and kissing the exposed skin underneath.

I decided to tell him to stop in a minute, mindful that we were due at his parent’s dining table in an hour. He’d undone all but one button when I decided to give him just
one
more minute. Damn, now my bra was unfastened.
Maybe, two more…
Crap, he’d only gone and slid my skirt straight off my legs.
Okay, just one more… ah, fuck it.

“We really need to think about getting our
asses
into gear. We’re already running late,” I said breathlessly, studying his hypnotic green eyes and fiddling with his hair as we lay spent and naked side by side on the living room floor.

“Do we have to?” he uttered in his best sulky teenager impression.

“You know we do. Your mom’s going to a lot of effort.

“Oh, please, my mom’s never made an effort in her life as far as catering’s concerned. The hardest part of her day will be telling Gracie whether she wants boiled or roasted carrots.”

“Oh, Richard!” I swiped him with a cushion again. Thankfully, he didn’t retaliate.

“So, your name? What do you want to change it to?” Richard asked inquisitively. I suspected he was just stalling – he hated Thanksgiving dinner, what with his mom inviting half the world and their plus one. Apparently he got ‘face ache’ from all the fake smiling.

“I’m not sure. I don’t even know how I’d go about it. ‘Hope’ just feels…
wrong
somehow. Especially when my life has held anything
but
. And of course, technically that’s not my real name anyway. That name was forced upon me.”

“So, you’re thinking about using the name you were born with? Monroe?”

“No,” I said flatly, shaking my head. “That doesn’t feel right either. I remember nothing of that life. That’s not who I am. Besides, I don’t think I want anything that’s passed down through my line of fucked-up parents. I want something new. Something…”

“How about HotAss?
Yeah, Amy HotAss.
I like it!”

“Seriously, you want another piece of this?” I teased, holding up the same cushion responsible for landing us here – lying cold and naked on a hardwood floor.

“Don’t tempt me, beautiful.” He winked at me and I rolled my eyes – purposely avoiding eye contact with him, because I knew if I allow myself to look at him, I wouldn’t be able to resist pouncing on him.

“Wait there. I have an idea.” Richard jumped to his feet before I had chance to ascertain the expression on his mighty fine face.

I sat up and grabbed his damp
towel which
was still draped over the coffee table before wrapping it around myself. He returned almost immediately with one hand tucked mysteriously behind his back.

“How about Lewis?” he asked with a suggestive grin.

What?
I was pretty sure my expression conveyed my confusion.

“I was going to wait until after Thanksgiving dinner… but it seems I am very much lacking in the self-control department.” He smiled at me, but it was a nervous smile I had never seen before. Then he dropped down on one knee in front of me and brought his arm, mottled with goosebumps, out of hiding. He was holding a small grey velvet box in his hands.

Holy shit.

“Amy, I love you. I have loved you since the day you woke up in my guest room, and I will love you beyond forever. I promise to always take care of you, protect you, and make you happy. Will you do me the great honour of changing your surname to Lewis, and becoming my wife?”

Ho. Ly. Fu. Ck.

My jaw slammed into my chest as a thousand different thoughts and emotions exploded inside my head. A thousand thoughts which all revolved around how to say… yes.

I watched Richard intently as he pressed his finger into the seam of the velvet box and slowly teased open the lid. Inside, resting on a bed of silver satin, lay a single dazzling diamond nestled into the centre of a stunning white gold ring.

Wow.

“Yes!” I squealed and I was almost sure it was a noise that could only be understood in the animal kingdom. I threw myself onto him, knocking him to the floor. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“I love you, Amy. You have just made me the proudest man alive!” He took my face in his hands and kissed me with a whole new intensity.

“I love you too.”

Wow. I was engaged. I was to marry the man who saved my life in every way possible.
The man who saved me from my past and rescued my future.

And… he was gloriously naked!

Six Years Later…

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I roared when Richard tried to take hold of my hand. Why the hell did I let him do this to me again?

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing great. Remember to breathe.”

“You fucking breathe!” I blasted.

The pain was excruciating – like an industrial vice tightening around my belly. I cried and whimpered and screamed and swore and thumped Richard as hard as I could whenever he came within touching distance.