Chapter 9

"Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us." David Richo

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Chapter Nine

What was this life? Why did it feel as though every movement required a trek through tar? Why did it feel as though he had the incredible weight of failure just resting on his chest, stopping him from breathing with ease?

Everything was black, both literally and figuratively.

A father had one responsibility in his life. Protect his child from harm.

Luke had only taken a few steps while holding Jamie. One trip sent his toddler son flying into the hard marble of the fireplace.

Luke knew that tripping was an accident. He had tripped over countless times since waking up in hospital. Tripping and falling was a hazard of blindness.

The utter despair and failure that Luke felt was that his instincts told him to stop his fall, to throw his arms out in front of him. How could he do that while holding a child?

What kind of father did that make him? That he would release his own son to stop his fall. Had Luke had another second to make a conscious decision he would have tried to turn his body, to allow Jamie to land on top of him. But his basic human instincts made him selfish.

The despair was isolating. Luke felt as though he was drowning while everyone around him was breathing easily.

Luke lay in his bed, staring at the canopy above him. Well, he assumed that there was still a canopy above him. He had been doing this day in and day out for days. It could be weeks. He was not keeping track.

Luke also knew that his days were numbered when it came to the patience of his family. How long would it be until they gave up on him?

It would be his own fault if they did. He was not permitting any of them to see him. Why would he want them to see the pathetic lump that he had become? Mary still tried to engage him using her nurturing ways, but Luke was simply not interested.

Luke heard his bedroom door open. He had no idea what time it was, so he assumed it was Mary with a tray of food. A few moments later he heard his drapes being pulled aside, one by one. He then heard the sound of water being poured into his basin.

"Who is there?" he called out.

"Your mother," snapped Helena. "Get up now. You need to shave. You look like a woolly mammoth."

"Mother?" repeated Luke. He had not spoken to his mother since he had been home, not since she had tried to visit him after his arrival.

He could hear the pain and frustration in his mother's voice. Luke did feel guilty but she could not understand.

"Luke, I am not going to ask you a third time. Get out of that bed!" Helena demanded.

Luke tried to obey her, but every movement was so tiring and draining. He heard the sound of his mother's skirt swishing across the floor as she hurried over to him.

Helena threw back his covers and seized Luke's legs in her arms. She pulled them out of the bed and helped him to sit up. Luke felt like a helpless child as she did so, but he did need to help.

Luke then felt his mother's hands on his cheeks. She was rubbing his cheekbones with her thumbs. It was actually soothing.

"Talk to me," she whispered. "Tell me what you are feeling."

What was he feeling? He was feeling everything. "Every negative emotion you could possibly imagine is what I am feeling, Mother," he replied softly.

Helena kissed Luke's forehead. "No one can understand your pain more than I, Luke," she explained. "Your son was hurt. My son has been hurt. It is my responsibility to look after you and I have not done so. I have allowed others, strangers, to do my job, but not anymore."

"Oh, Mother, I let go of him to save myself. There is nothing you can say that will change the fact that I am a selfish man," said Luke exasperatedly.

"Selfish?" repeated Helena. "Luke, you are the opposite of selfish. You gave up your life to serve your country. You are so brave!"

"Mother, I dropped him!" exclaimed Luke.

"And I dropped you!" retorted Helena. "I dropped you and your brother several times when you were little. They were accidents. I am a flawed parent. I never pretended to be perfect. Accidents happen, Luke. Parents make mistakes. But you cannot wallow every time you do. You have missed another two weeks of Jamie's life by punishing yourself for something that he has quite moved on from."

That thought had not occurred to Luke. He had spent years away at sea wanting to spend every moment with his son. Now that he had the opportunity, he was not taking advantage of it.

"You dropped us?"

"Yes, I did. I remember once when you were about twelve months old, I was holding you on my hip and I sneezed. I instinctively brought my hands to cover my mouth and I dropped you without thinking. It was an accident and I felt awful. I immediately called for the doctor to make sure that you were alright. A part of me thought that the doctor was going to berate me for being a terrible mother and then take you and your brother to live with a mother who was more capable than me. But you were fine. You cried a little, but twenty minutes later you were smiling and happy and back to normal. The doctor told me you were fine and that all parents are flawed, just as I have told you now."

Luke did not miss the part where his mother had mentioned the fact that her instincts had worked against her. "But I feel so guilty."

Much to his surprise, Helena laughed. "Welcome to parenthood, darling. It is hard, but you are going to love it."

But Luke did not feel as though he was overreacting. He felt genuine shame and horror at what he had done. He could not simply laugh and move on. He did feel as though the incident had been put in perspective but his negative emotions did not evaporate.

Luke obliged his mother though. It seemed to improve her mood as she pottered around him. She carefully shaved his jaw and neck, and then proceeded to trim his hair. Luke knew that his mother's haircuts were not always the neatest, but what did he care? He could not see it anyway.

"It seems you have a visitor," Helena said quietly, yet knowingly, after about an hour of tidying his appearance.

Seconds later, Luke felt the sensation of tugging at the legs of his trousers. It was Jamie, it had to be.

"Let me help you," Helena said, just as Jamie was placed on his lap.

Luke immediately tensed. He hoped that Jamie did not sense his hesitation but Luke could not help but be apprehensive.

"I will give you two some privacy," said Helena.

"No, Mother," protested Luke. What if something happened again?

"You will be just fine," replied Helena, before she promptly left them alone.

Luke secured his arms around Jamie for safety. It made him nervous to have Jamie on his lap. The distance to the floor was barely a few feet but that did not comfort him. Jamie fussed on Luke's lap. Luke felt him try to climb to his feet while standing on Luke's thighs. Luke wished that Jamie would just sit still, but he tried his best to keep him steady.

Luke felt Jamie kiss his chest. It was a strange gesture. "All better?" Jamie asked proudly.

"Pardon me?"

Jamie shuffled closer to Luke's ear, hurting Luke's legs in the process, but he would never let Jamie know that. So long as Jamie was comfortable being near him, Luke would not complain.

"Mama says that your heart has been hurting so that is why you wanted to be by yourself. But every time I am hurting Mama kisses it and it feels better. Did it work?" Jamie asked hopefully.

Luke recognised the trick. His own mother had used the same trick when he and Matthew were little boys.

"Absolutely," Luke lied. "I am all better now."

Jamie cheered and wrapped his arms around Luke's neck. Strangely, this contact did make him feel better. His son had shied away from him a few weeks ago. Were children really so forgiving?

"Will you play soldiers with me now?" Jamie asked eagerly.

Luke did not know the game but he was not about to refuse. He could muster the strength to play any game with his son. "Of course, but you must teach me how to play."

"Oh, it is easy!" Jamie said excitedly. "Mama, can I have my soldiers now?"

Isabella was in the room? Why had she not announced herself? Then again, with how he had behaved the last few weeks, perhaps she thought that she would be sent away if she had.

"Say 'please'," instructed Isabella softly.

"Please," replied Jamie obediently.

Luke heard an exchange. There was then the sound of objects landing on the floor.

"How you play is you set up a battle. The blue soldiers are the English and the green soldiers are the French. This man has to be at the front of the good English men because he is Papa and he is the leader," Jamie explained seriously.

Luke smiled slightly. Jamie knew all about him. He was sure the tales were exaggerated but Jamie seemed proud of him.

Jamie subsequently began to play, and Luke patiently listened. He enjoyed listening to his son's imagination at work. Jamie invented names for the soldiers, spoke in their voices and proceeded to defeat every one of the bad Frenchmen.

"He has wanted to play soldiers with you for such a long time," Isabella said quietly. Luke felt her dress brush him as she sat down beside him.

"I am so sorry for dropping him, Isabella," Luke apologised sincerely to her.

Luke felt Isabella take his hand. She squeezed it tightly. "Jamie has completely forgotten about it, Luke. You need not punish yourself. It takes a long time before you feel as though you are remotely competent when caring for your child."

"How long did it take you to feel competent?"

He heard Isabella laugh quietly. "I am still learning," she replied. "I was quite terrible at being a mother in the first year. Jamie used to cry all the time. He would scream at all hours of the night. I could not handle it. I used to curl up on the floor in front of his basinet and cry with him."

Luke furrowed his eyebrows. "You never told me any of this in your letters." Isabella used to tell him how sweet Jamie was.

"I did not want to take your attention off of your mission. I wanted you to focus, to come home in one piece."

"I feel I have come home in several pieces," murmured Luke.

"But you are home," insisted Isabella, "and I am going to do everything in my power to help you, Luke. I promise you." Luke felt Isabella press her lips to his temple. "I will leave you two to play. I am going to go and see if the post had arrived."

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Happy Australia Day!! Well, it was yesterday but some of you may still be on January 26th :)

I got up yesterday to see my brother was watching the Cavs game on ESPN. He is probably Cleveland's biggest fan. When he's not in school or work uniform he is wearing some type of Cavaliers merchandise :P But I sit down and they're having a full on Australia Day game! The commentators are spouting facts about Australia and apparently Cody Simpson sang the national anthem. I didn't see it, but I watched it online and he freakin' forgot the words! But the Cavs won so my brother was happy lol.

Then he tells me that the NBA have this list of dirtiest players and Dellavedova (an Aussie) is said to be the dirtiest player in the NBA and I'm like "Why?" and he says "Because he puts his body on the line and goes for the ball." I don't get how that makes a player dirty. In Australia, that's what you have to do in ALL sports or you'll be cut :P Apparently the other two dirtiest players were another Aussie and a Kiwi. They grew up with football and rugby, that's what you do :P

I used to be the water girl for my local football team when I was in Year 7 (all the guys were 13, same as me) and I remember being in the locker room and the coach was saying "Here in front of me I have 22 committed players. You boys go out there, you put your bodies on the line, and you win the premiership." And they did :P That was the year Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was released. My mum bought it for me on the Sunday morning so I took it to football and was reading at half time. Instead of listening to the coach they were all asking me what was happening lol.

Anyways, enough from me :P I'm sure you're all sick of me crapping on about sport (and netball season starts again soon!) so I'll say goodnight :) Vote and comment!!