Holiday - Chapter 11

[fbrobey.livejournal.com]

Only one more chapter to go after this!! Hope you enjoy as the fic comes to a conclusion!

Flo xxxxx

Title: Holiday
Chapter(s): 11 of 12
Rating: 12 (To be over cautious)
Summary: Wayne has a holiday he isn't ever going to forget.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the story.  This did not happen as it is purely a fan fic.  It is not intended to slander the people it dipicts.

They all said goodbye to California at the same time. Melissa gazed sadly out of the car window at the retreating view of the beautiful state. “You can visit us whenever you like, sweetie.” Jennifer had promised, squeezing the little girl tightly.
“We’re gonna miss having you around.” agreed Greg. “Especially Shia.” he had whispered in her ear.

“We’ll come back.” Wayne assured his daughter, spotting her downcast face in the rear view mirror. “It’s important we say goodbye to Granny.”
“I know” sniffed Melissa. “But I liked Greg and Jennifer.”
“They’re leaving on their own holiday though, sweetie, they’re visiting Britain, we don’t want to stay in their house without them do we?” consoled Wayne tactfully.
“I guess.” Melissa replied cheering up slightly, but still glum as the civilisation melted away with every mile outside.

*****

Wayne gripped tightly onto Mandie’s hand, comforting her as she sobbed bitterly into a black handkerchief.

Melissa had buried her face into her Father’s coat. He had scooped her of the ground, clamping her in a one armed cuddle, supporting her as much as he could, shielding her eyes from the sight of the beautiful coffin, laden with flowers as it lowered into the fresh wound on the face of the Earth.

They covered over the flowers and wood with fresh earth, each scrape of the spade hammering into their ears as they watched, distressed.

“Goodbye Granny.” whispered Melissa. Her breath formed a mist in front of her in the chilly morning air.

*****

The beautiful morning dew clung to their shoes and the bottom of their trousers, soaking them. They made their way unspoken through the long grass leading the now familiar path to the rest place of their daughter.

They stood silently side-by-side, staring down unblinkingly at the tiny headstone. The delicate white marble was even more faded, weather beaten and distressing than ever. This is how they always stood. Unmoving, silent, looking.

Greg jumped. His wife’s had pushed her small hand softly into his. She wanted some comfort. As if bridging the gap between them, unanimously they came to a silent understanding. They needed each other to overcome their bereavement. Greg locked Jennifer’s fingers securely between his own.

The only other person who knew what he’d gone through was the woman he called his wife. He pulled her tightly into a warm, tender embrace, absorbing the shaking of her shoulder’s as she wept into his coat. Ten years of darkness lifted with each raking sob. Eyes prickling, tears dribbled down Greg’s chin.

The first rays of the morning were at last beginning to force their way through the fluffy white clouds. Casting warmth and light upon the tiny graveyard, illuminating the weeping couple. 

“Greg.” She whispered finally in his ear. He continued to cradle her, running his fingers comfortingly through her soft hair.
”Hmm?”

“I’m late.” She breathed uncertainly in his ear.
“For what, honey?” He returned face still nestled into her shoulder. When there was no reply, Greg straightened up and looked into his wife’s eyes nervously.

Her eyes were tired, anxious, but flitted significantly. Still she said nothing. Comprehension dawned in Greg’s eyes. They widened, too shocked for words. Jennifer nodded.

Croakily Greg whispered, “Are you sure?” He shut his eyes tightly, hardly daring to believe.
“Yes” She pulled him tighter towards her, snuggling in tight and listened to the rapid pulsing of his heart.   He was nervous.
“How long?” he asked tentatively.
“I can’t be sure. Just over a month maybe.” Greg fell silent. Jennifer gulped, at a loss to her husband’s feelings.
Finally she chose to voice it. Her worry spilled out into his shoulder.

“What do you think?” she gasped.
“We should talk more.” he replied sagely. “What colour are you going to paint the room if it’s a boy?”
A wave of relief and fresh tears, overcame Jennifer in her delicate state. She punched Greg on the shoulder playfully, succumbing to laughter at last.

Greg smiled into his wife’s hair, kissing her gently on her forehead. Steering her away from the tiny headstone and the past, he knew the next time they returned here, they would be able to cope at last.