River's Edge (Hope Rising Book 1) Read online

  “How did you get Smiley in there so quickly?” Ben shifted on his feet as he stood beside Natalie, perusing the contents of the vending machine.

  “I spoke to my boss and told him why I missed my shift this evening. He’s a pretty understanding guy. I told him Smiley’s condition was urgent. Most of the people in the waiting room are non-urgent.” She fumbled in the pocket of her jeans before removing some coins and placing them in the slot. “What would you like?” She glanced at Ben, a kind smile touching her lips.

  Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Ben shrugged as he eyed the variety of food behind the glass cabinet. There was a time when he wouldn’t have thought twice about selecting food from the vending machine on the ground floor of his office building. At least once a day he’d buy a snack or drink. Money was no object back then, or so he’d fooled himself to believe. Now, his mouth watered at the selections before him, but he cringed at how much it would cost.

  “How about some chips? And a drink as well.” Natalie pressed the buttons and the machine whirred into action depositing a packet of salt and vinegar chips at the bottom. She stepped over to the drink machine and repeated the same process. Handing both the bag of chips and an ice-cold can of lemonade to Ben, she walked over to a vacant row of chairs near the television.

  Ben cracked open the can and took a sip of the sugary liquid as he sat down beside her. Wiping a hand across the back of his mouth, he started at the sound of his name.

  “Ben?”

  He turned, scanning the room. An older couple sat near the windows. A teenage boy with headphones in his ears was seated next to a man wearing a business suit. A young child was curled up on a woman’s lap. And then his gaze landed on familiar blonde hair. His breath caught in his throat. No. It couldn’t be. He stood and took a few steps, but then froze, remembering his place in society.

  Her hair was styled in a chic bob framing her face. She stood, and her heels clipped across the floor as she moved towards him. Krista’s face contorted, unable to disguise her disbelief and disgust as her gaze skimmed over his appearance.

  “What happened to you?” She gestured with her hand, making no attempt at subtle or quiet conversation. “You look awful.”

  Ben lowered his head, swallowing down his humiliation and ire as his gaze tracked across a crack in the linoleum. They weren’t married any more. Her opinion shouldn’t hold any merit. And yet her words cut deep, reminding him of the widening chasm between where he’d once been and where he now stood.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Ben moistened his parched lips. With his fingers pressing into the drink can in his hand, he focused on the exit sign behind Krista’s shoulder before summoning the courage to meet her eyes. They were still as glorious as a perfect summer’s sky. And despite the late hour, her makeup was impeccable. Perfection. That was Krista. All about appearances. Never about the heart.

  “I’m here with a friend.”

  “Is that her?” She tilted her chin towards Natalie, her snide tone elevating her to the echelon of society he had never felt comfortable in. Ben glanced over his shoulder and eyed the woman who’s inner beauty left Krista’s in its wake. Natalie’s gaze was fixed on the midnight movie playing on the television.

  “She’s a friend, but not the one who’s sick. What about you?”

  “Tommy’s got a rash.”

  “Tommy?”

  “Yes, my little …” Her voice trailed off, her eyes widening briefly as Ben caught the moment she realized her slip. With a sigh, she pressed a hand over her flat stomach beneath her figure-hugging black dress. “Yes. I had a boy.”

  Ben placed a hand on Krista’s shoulder and stepped past her. His eyes scanned the waiting room before landing on the row of seats she’d vacated. Familiar golden curls caught his eye. Millie. Dressed in pink pyjamas with rainbows and white unicorns, she sat colouring with crayons next to a man dressed in a blue turtle-neck sweater, stone coloured trousers, and brown leather loafers. He cradled a baby – Ben’s baby - in his arms.

  “Millie,” he gasped. Tossing the drink can into a nearby bin, he took a few steps towards his daughter.

  “You can’t see her, Ben.” Krista’s hand closed over his arm. He jerked out of her reach.

  “She’s my daughter. I want to see her.” He fought the lump in his throat. No, he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t allow Krista to get the better of him again.

  “You’ll frighten her. Look at you.” Krista’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Millie. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

  “Millie.” His voice croaked as he shuffled closer to the row of chairs. Heads turned in the waiting room, eyeing the commotion. The well-dressed man seated next to Millie stood, holding the baby on his hip. He was about the same height as Ben with grey hair peppering his dark sideburns. Although his build was thinner, he oozed wealth and success. Unlike Ben, whose appearance screamed poverty and failure.

  “Is everything okay, Krista?”

  “Everything’s fine, Grant. This is Ben.” She spat his name, as though it were a bitter taste on her tongue she couldn’t wait to get rid of.

  The other man eyed Ben and straightened his shoulders in a silent display of dominance.

  “I just want to see my daughter. And son, as it turns out.” Ben gave a short laugh at the cruelty of the situation.

  Cradling the baby in one arm, Grant held up his other hand, stopping Ben from taking another step.

  “As part of the divorce, Krista stipulated you were to have no contact with them. Isn’t that correct?”

  Ben frowned. It could’ve been. His memory was blurred from that day. Surrounded by empty bottles and nursing a headache, he’d signed the papers in a haze of whiskey and rum. He didn’t realise he’d been signing his children, his future away.

  “Who are you?” Ben tilted his chin, holding the other man’s steely gaze. He might be homeless, but he wasn’t going to allow this schmuck to push him around.

  “I’m Grant O’Laughlin. Krista’s husband.”

  “Hus …” Ben stammered, before he narrowed his gaze at Krista. “Wow. Was the ink even dry on the divorce papers before you married this guy?”

  “Ben. Please don’t make a scene,” she whispered vehemently, her blonde hair barely moving as she shook her head.

  “I’m trying not to. I just wasn’t expecting to see you here, find out I have a son, and see that you’ve remarried. Excuse me for finding it all a bit of a shock.”

  “Mummy, who is that?” Golden curls bobbed beside Krista as an angelic face appeared at her side. Vivid blue eyes stared up at him. Ben’s heart cracked open at the sight of his daughter. She was a little taller. Her cheeks were still as chubby. And she was more beautiful than he remembered.

  “He’s a man we used to know. Go back and sit down.” Krista patted Millie’s head before turning their daughter away and sending her back to the bank of chairs.

  “Nice one, Krista. Someone you used to know?” Ben arched an eyebrow, his fingernails digging into the skin of his palms as he pushed down his anger. “Are you ever going to tell her I’m her father? Does she even ask about me? Or has he,” Ben flicked a narrowed gaze to Grant, “been on the scene the whole time?”

  “She did ask about you. Every night for months. I said you went away.” Wiping a manicured finger underneath both eyes, Krista firmly set her jaw. “She won’t remember you. Which is probably a good thing now.”

  Blood pounded through Ben’s veins while his stomach twisted into knots. He shook his head, refusing to believe his ex-wife’s harsh words.

  “Millie.” He ignored Grant’s protestations and knelt in front of his daughter. “It’s me, Dad. Do you remember me?” He smiled warmly, resting one hand on his knee, the other on the arm of the chair beside her. Surely she had to remember him. The nights they’d read together on her bed. The trips to the park on the weekends when he wasn’t working. Swimming at the beach and making sand castles together while Krista
watched from a distance because it wasn’t her thing to do.

  Clasping a crayon in her hand, Millie glanced up. Wide blue eyes searched his face. Ben pressed a hand to his mouth, choking back a sob.

  “You need to go.” Grant’s firm hand closed over his shoulder.

  “I’m your Dad, Millie. I’m so sorry. One day I’ll find you and tell you how much I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

  “Come on. You’re frightening her.”

  Ben pushed to his feet, brushing Grant’s hand away. Tears burned his eyes as he cast one last look at his daughter, and his son, Tommy, cradled in the arms of another man. Blindly, he stumbled through the waiting room, ignoring the curious stares and murmurs from those waiting to be seen.

  Cool air slapped his face as he stumbled out of the emergency department and into the night. With no sense of direction, he staggered along the well-lit concrete path as sadness, anger, and regret slammed against him like a relentless storm. Reaching out, his fingers grazed the wall at the end of the path, and he slid down the bricks onto the ground. Drawing his knees to his chest, he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

  Confusion, hurt, and fear squeezed their talons around his heart until the dam of emotion he’d been holding back finally burst. Uncontrollable sobs shook his body.

  He was a father again. He had a son. A son! A son he would never hold. A son he would never see take his first step. A son he would never see play his first soccer game. Or feel pride when he brought home his first girlfriend.

  “Ben?” Footsteps echoed along the deserted walkway, and soon Natalie appeared. Without a word, she lowered herself to the ground next to him. Icy fingers gently settled on his forearm.

  “Are you okay?”

  Ben shrugged, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt before fixing his gaze on the road winding up the hill into the hospital. Three ambulances were parked in the bay at the side of the emergency department. Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance. And all the while, the taunts from his past leading to his demise swirled through his head.

  “That’s a silly question, I’m sorry.” Natalie removed her hand, tugging her sleeve over her fingers. Emptiness settled over him with the loss of her touch. “I saw and heard what happened in there, and I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he murmured. The rattle of wheels drew his attention, and his gaze followed two paramedics as they wheeled a patient through the doors of the emergency department.

  “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, or what you’ve been through. But if you want to chat, I’m here to listen.”

  “Thanks.” Ben offered a half-smile. Could he tell her everything? How he’d gambled his money in the hope he could save them from financial ruin? How he’d pretended to go to work and wandered aimlessly around the city, because he was too ashamed to tell Krista he’d lost his job? He was a complete and utter fool. Krista thought so. Her parents thought so. And no doubt Natalie would too.

  Her warm voice broke through his thoughts. “Or you can chat with Graham and Sue, or someone from our church. They’ve helped a lot of people through difficult times.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Sorry, I’m rambling.” Her sweet voice lilted on the air, drifting on the breeze before breaking through Ben’s self-imposed walls and wrapping around his heart.

  “Why are your hands so cold?” He kept his gaze fixed on her face, mesmerised by the soft, dewy glow of her skin. The fluorescent light on the roof above them highlighted the contours of her cheeks. The fine tip of her nose. The soft curve of her lips. She wore no make-up, and yet he’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

  “What?” She glanced at him before looking down at her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jumper. “Oh.” She spread her fingers apart on her lap, her fingertips pale against the dark blue of her jeans. “I have Raynaud’s phenomenon. It’s a blood disorder that limits the circulation to my extremities when it’s cold. Even when it’s hot, just the slightest drop in temperature means I’m usually reaching for a jumper or jacket.”

  Without a second thought, Ben picked up her hand, eyeing the pale pink, almost white tips of her fingers. They were like ice in his warm ones.

  “What do you do to help?”

  “I always carry a jumper and try to stay warm. In winter, I have to wear gloves. I didn’t get a chance to grab anything warmer tonight.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her hand landed back on her lap with a faint slap as he let go, realizing just how close he’d come to overstepping a line. He had no right to touch her. No right to even admire her beauty.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Ben gave a short laugh. “We seem to be saying that a lot tonight.” Sighing, he leaned his head against the wall, draping his hands over his knees, his mind awhirl with jumbled thoughts of Krista and his failed marriage.

  Had he really loved her? He thought he had. Caught up in the whirlwind of her beauty and his striving for success, he’d been blinded by her high maintenance style and his willingness to impress while trying to keep up with a lifestyle he had no right to be a part of. By the looks of the new bloke by her side, she’d married into money, which proved just how shallow she was. He only hoped Millie and Tommy would grow up in a stable home filled with unconditional love. Tears spilled down his cheeks as heart-wrenching sobs broke through the night.

  “Are you alright?” Natalie’s cold fingers rested on his arm once again. “Ben?”

  The depth of compassion in her eyes pierced his heart. He clenched his fingers together. No, he wasn’t all right. But she didn’t need to be burdened with the mistakes of his past. Ignoring the confused look on her face, he pushed to his feet and began walking. Past the front doors of the emergency department that jolted open with his movement. He didn’t bother looking to see if Krista and his children were still in the waiting room. With his head lowered, and hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, he continued walking past the ambulance bay and into the shadows of the carpark.

  “Ben! Wait!” Hurried footsteps crunched across the ground behind him. Without a backward glance, he picked up his pace. The wind rushed past his ears, sending a chill across every area of exposed skin. Sirens sounded in the distance, and a guttural cry escaped his mouth as he roared his angst into the night.

  Adjusting his collar, he started jogging down the hill. Away from the hospital. Away from the memories of his past. Away from the reminders of how much he’d failed, and how far he’d fallen. And away from the woman who’d shown him more compassion in a single moment than he’d ever experienced in a lifetime.

  With his pulse pounding in his ears, Ben continued running. Through South Bank where late night revellers filled the night air with their drunken chorus as they staggered along the paved walkway. Past the lagoon where a handful of people splashed at the water’s edge. Past the art gallery and library where brightly coloured banners promoting the latest exhibits flapped in the breeze.

  Up ahead, the ominous white bridge, aglow with orange streetlamps, spanned the river. Ben slowed to a walk, shielding his eyes from the headlights of oncoming cars. His breath came hard and fast, and he leaned forward, resting his hands on the bridge’s concrete barrier. Lights from the city danced across the ripples on the water below. Through a blur of tears, he saw the high-rise where he used to work and the window of the office where he would sit at his desk almost touching the clouds. Now he was nothing more than a scrap of dirt on the ground.

  What future was there for him? He was a father, but his children would never know him. He had no one in his life. He had nothing.

  Resting one foot on the ledge, Ben straightened his shoulders and lifted his bodyweight onto his arms just enough for his feet to leave the ground. Just one quick move and he’d be standing on the edge. Another, and he’d be freefalling to the murky depths below. It would be easy. It would be quick. And no one would ever know. Or care.

  The water swirled below. It was beautifully
dark. Hypnotic. Just one step. It would be painless. He could jump and drift away into …

  The wind called his name.

  “Ben!”

  He blinked several times, bringing his wayward thoughts back into focus. With a frown, he turned, squinting as the wind needled his eyes. A dark figure ran towards him. Again, his name carried high above the noise of the cars driving across the bridge. “Ben!”

  Breathless, she appeared. Her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed.

  “What are you doing?” Natalie’s breath misted on the air. Resting a hand on the rail, her eyes - confused, questioning - desperately sought his.

  He couldn’t answer. Surely she was an apparition. A mythical creature emerging from the mist.

  “I called out to you, but you kept running. You’re fast!” Natalie shook her head, glancing between him and the river. “Ben?” Wide-eyed, she stepped closer, extending her hand.

  Exhaling, he leaned forward against the railing and arched his head back. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a clear view of the stars, without the city lights blinding their brilliance?”

  Natalie nodded, taking another step towards him. Ben wondered what it would be like to fall into a soft, warm bed at night, and wake up with a roof over his head instead of tree branches or a tin shelter. He’d forgotten what that felt like. He’d forgotten what safety and security felt like. He’d forgotten what life felt like.

  Fingers closed over his hand. Cold, yet comforting.

  “Talk to me. Or we can go back to Graham and Sue’s place. Please come down. You might slip and fall. Please, Ben. It’s so cold. Let’s go somewhere warm and we can talk.”

  He saw the way her shoulders shook and the way her lips trembled. She was freezing. He’d done that to her. He’d made her come out into the cold, and now she was suffering. Choking back tears, Ben slowly lowered his feet to the ground.