Ready For Flynn, Part 1 Read online

  “Today? They were going to the Canyon today? Jesus. God. No,” he said loudly as he made his way to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, but they were going on a helicopter ride I think.”

  “Good. I mean, I’d have hated the boys to have seen any of this live,” he expressed, sounding relieved. His hands rested on the counter top, and he continued to watch the TV again.

  Meanwhile, the guy being interviewed was pointing out directions and the interviewer cut back to the studio.

  “Sorry, Mr. Rochford, I’m hearing from the studio we have your exclusive footage ready for our viewers so let’s take a look. Please excuse the quality of the filming. I repeat this is amateur footage from the scene earlier taken by our witness on his cell as the tragedy unfolded.”

  Immediately the feed of his video filled the screen, the quality wasn’t great like they’d said, but it was good enough for us to see the bright blue inflatable boat that bounced in the foamy water. Seven people in life jackets clung to ropes attached to the boat. Two waved directly at the person filming, but before we could get a good look at them, it flipped over. Not quick enough for us not to recognize Jess’s crazy luminous self-knit berry and her red and white love heart jeans.

  My dad sat down heavily in the chair stunned for a moment, while mom stood wringing her hands, her eyes staring hauntingly into mine.

  Breaking the moment, I’d grabbed my cell. “It’s not them. Let me call Ziggy.”

  I’d pressed speed dial while dad rose from his chair again and grappled for his phone on the table that was under more newspapers.

  “Calling Kayden.”

  Both cells rang. Both went to voice mail.

  Ziggy —Hi, if you’re getting this you’re not getting me. I mean you will eventually, I’m just not taking your call right now. Probably because I’m doing something better than talking on the phone. Leave a message. If I like you, I’ll call you back when I’m bored. If you don’t hear from me well, that’ll probably be because I don’t.

  Meeting my father’s gaze again I hung up and tried not to sound as worried as I was.

  “That would be normal if they were in an environment where they can’t hear. Like a bar or a loud shopping area? Maybe they’re on silent? Maybe they just haven’t seen we’ve called yet.”

  My stomach had sunk to the floor. Blood rushed into my ears and the sound had deafened me, drowning out my ability to think straight as my heart rate became erratic with panic. The uncertainty of my brothers and Ziggy’s whereabouts was beginning to bite, and I tried not to alarm my parents any more than they were already. The panic was rising from deep inside, and I fought with everything I had not to lose control. Being hysterical wasn’t going to give me information.

  I called Martin. It went straight to voicemail. It didn’t ring like the other two. Is he on the phone? “Martin it’s me.”

  Dad stood and flung out his hand in my direction.

  “Give me that.”

  “It’s voicemail, Dad. He’s not there.” I continued to leave a message, “Martin there’s been an accident in the Grand Canyon. We know you were all going there today, please call us as soon as you get this and let us know you’re okay. See you later. Love You.”

  Dread and anguish had replaced my excitement about Las Vegas. My adrenaline was still running, but the feelings I had were completely opposite to those before I went to walk Buster.

  Dad slapped his hands hard on the granite countertop, his arms shaking as tears began to roll down his face. At first, I thought he’d just snapped, and the pressure of waiting had become too much. I’d been about to go over and reassure him about everyone, but I’d noticed him staring out of the window. My eyes followed his gaze and it was when I saw the Sheriff’s car coming toward the house that the significance of what I was watching hit me.

  Pained, blood-curdling screams shook me from a daze. Scanning the room, both my parents were standing and cried as their horrified faces stared back at me. An arm curled around my shoulder, and I turned my head to the left to see who it belonged to. A female who had entered the house with the sheriff stared with the same kind of pained look on her face the sheriff was wearing. Then, at some point, I realized the horrible wailing I heard came from me.

  Something snapped inside me, and I recoiled from her touch. I tore myself away from her as her hands reached out and tried to grab hold of me again. I couldn’t breathe and threw the kitchen door open because I needed air.

  Panic gripped my body and almost suffocated me; I heaved, but my lungs wouldn’t expand. Pins and needles riddled my body with a lack of oxygen, and my heart was unable to pump fast enough. A lightheaded feeling washed over me. As I ran out, cold air seared into my throat and down to my lungs, the heady rush made me feel even dizzier, and the sunny landscape blinded me. Wailing rang in my ears then suddenly I saw white light as I felt myself fall and blackness descended.

  Vomit covered my clothing as I came round. I’d fainted, and I was sitting up supported by my dad and the stranger the Sheriff had brought with him. At first the memory of being sick the day before came to mind and I wondered if I’d had a relapse, then fear hit my nerves as I remembered my father’s face immediately before the sheriff arrived. A tight fist closed over my heart and once again struggled for breath.

  Dad’s tear stained face came into focus as he knelt before me sitting back on his haunches looking helpless.

  “Baby, you have to be strong. We don’t know much yet, but we know Kayden and Jess are safe. Kayden managed to grab an overhanging tree branch. They’ve been flown to the hospital in Las Vegas. Adam, Martin, Ziggy…we can only hope they’re somewhere downstream. That’s the positive we’ve got to hang on to for now.”

  Fear and despair made my frame rigid. Foggy thoughts of the scene of the rubber boat capsizing left me distraught. I began to bargain with God for their safe return then screamed my pleas loudly into the open air around me as I looked to the heavens. “Please God, please, please don’t take them.” Mom was standing in the driveway sobbing quietly and hugging herself, and I saw Auntie Joan’s car arrive. She only lived ten minutes away from us by then.

  After a while I was persuaded to go back inside, was cleaned up and a new t-shirt slipped over my head. I sat hugging myself, rocking in the chair, staring at the TV for God alone knows how long. News feed after news feed gave the same information over and over until I screamed at the TV to tell me something I didn’t already know.

  At some point, I went back to check my phone, and my heart leaped in my chest when I saw a new text from Ziggy. Quickly keying in the password, my eyes scanned the page.

  Ziggy: Eek this river seems a little rough. I think this is to going to be a rocky ride. I’m pooping my pants and trying to look brave for your brothers. Wish you were here. See you soon, I love you.

  If my heart ached before, I felt it crack at his message. I glanced up when two couples who were neighbors and good friends of ours turned up at the house. Alex, the Sheriff, had called them to support us. Four more people stood helplessly in our living room. I thought their presence was confusing because they couldn’t bring my brothers’ back.

  An hour later, Dad was leaving with Dan and Stewart, our neighbors, to fly to Las Vegas. My pleas to go with them were dismissed when I was told mom needed me at home. I had wanted to feel near them, and when they left me stuck at home in Iowa, it had made me feel helpless.

  Sheriff Metcalf had someone go over to Ziggy’s house, and his dad was meeting mine at the airport. The Sheriff drove off with my dad and the others. The rest of us sat glued to the TV waiting for news after they’d gone. Two hours after they left the rescue team found the first body and even though I’d feared the worse and hoped for the best, I passed out again.

  All of us women sat sobbing, even Debbie because I guess what was going on was too much for her. She had no training in that kind of event; it was just that she’d been an acquaintance of my dad’s through having her car serviced at the workshop that she
knew us. She’d come with her husband in case there was something she could’ve done for us. Auntie Joan stood, strode over and picked up the TV remote, pointed it at the TV and the room fell silent. Turning she headed toward the kitchen and started making more coffee.

  “Valerie, you can make yourself useful and stack these cups in the dishwasher.”

  I’d seen this side of Auntie Joan before. She went into her practical mode because she couldn’t be anything else. Without speaking, I complied with her demand and watched her take out more cups, pouring fresh coffee into them lined up on the black counter-top.

  Retreating to the other side of the sitting room by the window, I stared out at the fading light, waves of grief hitting me with each new agonizing thought that I pushed away. Six anguish-filled hours later the phone rang. Auntie Joan stood, smoothed her hands down her skirt and glanced over at me. She looked dismayed. I watched her swallow with difficulty and make her way over to the phone.

  With every passing hour of no news, I feared that phone would ring. When it did, my instinct was to run. I couldn’t. My mom was in the room. They may have been my brothers and boyfriend, but they were her children. Every ring was like a death knell, one closer to news I prayed not to hear as I watched Auntie Joan nervously go to answer it.

  Lifting the receiver, I noticed my aunt’s hand shake as she held the phone to her ear. “Hello. Yes, it’s me.”

  When she said that I knew it was my dad on the phone. I held my breath as I watched her listen and saw her hand cover her mouth and her eyes slowly closed. For the longest time, she didn’t move. After what seemed like an age she shook her head and said, “I can’t. Please…”

  Another minute passed, and I wanted to scream. Then I heard her murmur, “Okay.” Her voice was barely audible.

  The phone beeped, and my dad’s voice came over the speaker on the phone.

  “Marian? Valerie? Can you hear me?”

  I sat motionless but glanced at my mom. She whispered. “I wish I couldn’t.”

  Dad’s voice sounded like he was trying to fight his emotions, his gruff, husky tone broke as he said, “I wish I had better news.”

  “Say it. Just say it, Gordon.” My mom was trying to help him completely in that heart-stopping moment together.

  “They found them, all three. All dead, Marian. Ziggy, our beautiful boys…”

  Mom and I started screaming, “No!” Auntie Joan took the phone back, and it beeped again, she was talking quickly shielding the receiver to stem the tide of grief from my dad. Then she put the phone down.

  Mom sat rocking herself the same way I had been doing for hours, but sobbing out loud.

  “My beautiful babies. How cruel. Three beautiful boys and now I only have one.”

  I ran and hugged her, but she shoved me away violently, stood and headed for the outside door just like I had done. I recognized the signs; she felt like she was suffocating. I felt like I was suffocating. Running after her, my aunt reached her first. She was halfway down the driveway screaming.

  We caught her as she fell to her knees. Weak and worn from the trauma she allowed us to lead her back toward the house. Our two neighbors stood helplessly by the door. Mrs. Metcalf told Auntie Joan that she’d called the doctor as we passed her while each of us was holding my mom upright. I didn’t understand why Esther had done that at first, then it dawned on me that we needed help with what we’d just learned.

  Twenty long, harrowing minutes later, Dr. Harding, the same doctor that had brought each one of us kids into this world, came and sedated my mom and me. I lay down on the couch and felt detached as my drug induced calm descended. My thoughts became nothing, and I eventually fell asleep.

  Chapter 12 ~ No hope

  Rolling over, I woke with a start, and I almost fell off the couch. Then, in that split second between waking and remembering what happened, I’d felt at peace then it was like the sky fell when the horrible nightmare we were in came back. I sat bolt upright my legs still stretched out in front of me.

  “Martin?” I called out.

  Auntie Joan appeared at my side and knelt to comfort me. “Ah, Valerie, you’re awake, honey. Let me get you some coffee.”

  I stared blankly at my aunt walking away. I didn’t want coffee I’d wanted everyone to come home. Another huge wave of anguish and sorrow washed over me, and I cried again. I’d woken up to a living nightmare, and my split-second reaction had been to pray that my family’s ordeal was a horrible mistake. Not that I wished it on another family. I just wanted it never to have happened at all.

  The shrill ring of the house phone made me jump. My aunt hurried to answer and listened before she handed it to Debbie. The Sheriff had more news. I rose swiftly to my feet and started crying again. I moved close to the countertop and asked what was happening. I already knew the outcome. All I needed to know now was when Kayden could come home with my dad.

  Arthur, my dad’s mechanic arrived at the house and explained that Dad had sent him to pick my mom up and take her to Las Vegas. I screamed profanities and banged every door in the house, furious that my dad wasn’t sending for me. I was family. His only daughter and he left me alone in Iowa while he and my mom dealt with all the officials, and supported Kayden and Jess. Auntie Joan was left to support me. I’d had the feeling of being left out before this time, it made me livid.

  Screaming uncontrollably, my irrational side took over, and I ordered everyone out of the house and told them to go home. When they protested I became hysterical, eventually, they left. My auntie and I stood inside the kitchen watching Debbie climb into the Sheriff’s car as he came to take her home. I was so eaten up with rage that I couldn’t think straight, and when she tried to pull me into a hug, I took my anger out on her as well.

  “Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t try to comfort me when my own family have abandoned me.”

  “I am family, Valerie,” she chided with a hurt look in her eyes.

  “Well, I don’t fucking want you. I want Martin and Adam…and Ziggy,” I sobbed, heartbroken.

  Tears rolled down her face at my brutal onslaught. She’d recently lost the person closest to her as well I rationalized. Then I remembered Uncle Terry was older; Martin and Adam had their whole lives ahead of them, and they were snuffed out just like that.

  My body was wracked with grief, an uncomfortable ache made my stomach feel like a deflated balloon, shriveled and hollow inside, just like my heart felt. My life was over. I didn’t want to live in this world if they weren’t alive with me. I stomped to the bathroom and flung open the cabinet, but all was there was Advil and a packet of acid reducing pills.

  Auntie Joan made me take more meds the doctor left and within the hour I was spaced out again, feeling numb and when I let my mind go to the fact that Martin, Adam and Ziggy were dead I felt nothing.

  Feeling hopeless and helpless when the drugs wore off, I had nothing to console myself with. Every so often my mind would kick in, and I’d start to bargain with fate. It was like okay, there’s this problem and if I looked hard enough, I’d work out the solution. Except with this particular problem, the only solution I could come up with was for me to go the same way as they did.

  I didn’t want to live. Not without all of us being together. My normal life was so far removed from the horrible tragedy I faced. I couldn’t imagine a time when the gaping hole left by the loss of my brothers would ever shrink to a manageable level.

  Somehow I found myself in bed, and my emotions started to leak back into my bloodstream, and once there they coursed through my veins and consumed me again. The tide of grief rushed in, and it drowned my heart. I sobbed again and again, my breath hitching repeatedly and my chest tightened repeatedly until I had no more tears and I fell unconscious, exhausted from bargaining with God and fearing the future.

  Trucks? I woke to the sound of a loud diesel engine idling outside. My head felt muggy and heavy, the fuzzy screwed up thoughts inside my head were a chaotic mess. I was nauseous and thirsty. As
soon as I moved, my body ached. Rolling off the bed, I made my way to the bathroom and barely reached the toilet bowl as my stomach lurched.

  Voices on the landing made me freeze for a second before the wave of nausea came crashing in again, and I dry heaved over the bowl. The voices got nearer, but I couldn’t move. I sat back on my haunches just long enough to hear my aunt say, “Stay here, I’ll see if she’s awake.”

  Instantly the bathroom was bathed in bright light, and my aunt crouched down beside me. She started to cry at the sight of me and began rubbing my back. When I looked at her, she looked like I felt. Wrecked.

  “That friend of Martin’s is outside, Valerie. I told him we weren’t taking guests, but he’s insistent that he has to see you.”

  I dry heaved and sat back on my legs again, wiping my mouth with yet more toilet tissue.

  “What friend?”

  “You know, the one from Thanksgiving. Flynn.”

  My heart almost stopped. Flynn’s here? My stomach tightened. I was confused that he’d turned up at the door. Especially, with what had happened to Martin. Did he know? I didn’t feel strong enough to tell him if not. I was struggling to accept it, so the thought of telling Flynn out loud would make it all too real.

  Seeing him at my weakest and knowing how bad my heart felt before when he’d crashed in and walked out of my life, there was no way on God’s earth I was letting Flynn Docherty within spitting distance of me.

  “Tell him to go away. I don’t want to see him. We have enough to deal with, without some egotistical rock star bringing attention to our door. Get him out of here, Auntie Joan. I don’t want to see him.”

  “I think he’s come a long way, Valerie.”

  “I don’t give a shit how far he’s come. Flynn Docherty doesn’t get to waltz in here and play on our grief.”

  She stood, leaned over the bath and began to run water into the tub. “Are you sure? I mean if he goes away now and you change your mind, it doesn’t look like you’ll be able to just pick up the phone. He’s got a bus out there with his face on the side. I think he’s come straight from work, Valerie.”