Cecelia Ahern - The Gift

She climbed around the car, the icy rain pelting down on her, soaking her in an instant. The surface was wet and mucky beneath her, causing her to lose her footing numerous times, but as her heart beat wildly in her chest and as she found herself back in that distant memory, reliving it, she couldn’t feel the pain in her ankle as she went over on it; she couldn’t feel the scrapes of branches and twigs on her face, the hidden rocks among the gorse that bruised her legs.

Around the far side of the car, she saw a person. Or a body, at least, and her heart sank. She shone the light near him. He was bloodied. Covered in it. She discovered that the door had been smashed shut and she couldn’t pull it open, but the windowpane of the driver’s side had shattered, so at least she had access to his upper half. She tried to keep calm as she shone the flashlight inside the car.

“Tony,” she breathed as she saw the figure. “Tony.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Tony.” She clawed at the man, ran her hands across his face, urged him to wake. “Tony, it’s me,” she said. “I’m here.”

The man groaned, but his eyes remained closed.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she whispered in his ear, kissing him on the forehead. “I’m going to get you home.”

His eyes slowly opened, and she felt a jolt. Blue eyes. Not brown. Tony had brown eyes.

He looked at her. She looked at him. Suddenly she was taken out of her nightmare.

“Sir,” she said, her voice shakier than she wanted. She took a deep breath and started again. “Sir, can you hear me? My name is Jessica; can you hear me? Help is on the way, okay? We’re going to help you.”

He groaned and closed his eyes.

“They’re on their way now,” Raphie called from above her, starting to make his way down.

“Raphie, it’s dangerous down here; it’s too slippery. Stay up there so they can see you.”

“Is anyone alive?” he asked, ignoring her request and continuing to move slowly down, one foot at a time.

“Yes,” she called back. Then to Lou, “Sir, give me your hand.” She shone the flashlight to look at his hand, and her stomach flipped at the sight. She took a moment to adjust her breathing and brought the light up again. “Sir, take my hand. Here I am, can you feel it?” She gripped him tight.

He groaned.

“Stay with me now. We’re going to get you out of here.”

He groaned some more.

“What? I can’t…em…Don’t worry, sir, an ambulance is on its way.”

“Who is it?” Raphie called. “Do you know?”

“No,” she called back simply, not wanting to take her attention away from this man, not wanting to lose him.

“My wife,” she heard him whisper, so quietly it could have been mistaken for an exhale. She moved her ear to his lips, so close she could feel them on her earlobe, the stickiness of the blood.

“You have a wife?” she asked gently. “You’ll see her. I promise, you’ll see her. What’s your name?”

“Lou,” he said. Then he started to cry softly, but even that was such an effort that he had to stop.

“Please hang in there, Lou.” She fought back the tears and then put her ear to his lips again as he breathed some more words.

“A pill? Lou, I don’t have any — ”

He let go of her hand suddenly and started pulling at his coat, thumping his chest with a lifeless hand. He grunted with the effort; he whimpered from the pain. Reaching into his breast pocket, which was soaked with blood, Jessica took out a container. It had one white pill left inside.

“Is this your medication, Lou?” she asked, unsure. “Do I — ?” She looked up at Raphie, who was trying to figure out how to make it down through the tricky terrain. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to give you — ”

Lou took her hand and squeezed it with such sudden strength that she immediately opened the container with a shaking hand and shook the single pill onto her palm. With trembling fingers she lifted his mouth open, placed the pill on his tongue, and closed his mouth. She quickly looked around to see if Raphie had seen her. He was still only halfway down the slope.

When she looked back at Lou, he was staring at her, wide-eyed. He gave her such a look of love, of absolute gratitude for that one simple thing, that it filled her heart with hope. Then he gasped for air and his body shuddered, before he closed his eyes and left the world.

AT EXACTLY THE SAME TIME as Lou Suffern left one world and entered another, he stood in the front garden of his Howth home, drenched to the very core. He was trembling from the experience he’d just had. He didn’t have much time, but there was nowhere in the world he’d rather have been right at that moment.

He stepped through the front door, his shoes squeaking on the tiles. The fire in the living room was crackling, the floor below the tree was filled with presents, all wrapped with pretty ribbons. Lucy and Bud were so far the only children in the family, and so family tradition dictated that Lou’s parents, Quentin and Alexandra, and the newly separated Marcia would be staying overnight in his house. Tonight he couldn’t imagine not being with all of them; he couldn’t think of anything that would fill his heart with any more joy. He entered the dining room, hoping they would see him, hoping that Gabe’s last miraculous gift wouldn’t fail him now.

“Lou.” Ruth looked up from the dinner table and saw him first. She leapt out of her chair and ran to him. “Lou, honey, are you okay? Did something happen?”

His mother rushed to get a towel for him.

“I’m fine.” He sniffed, cupping her face with his hands and not taking his eyes off her. “I’m fine now. I was calling,” he whispered. “You didn’t answer.”

“Bud hid the phone again,” she said, studying him with concern. “Are you drunk?” she asked in a whisper.

“No.” He laughed. “I’m in love,” he whispered back, then raised his voice so that the whole room could hear. “I’m in love with my beautiful wife.” He kissed her fully on the lips, then breathed in her hair, kissed her neck, kissed her everywhere on her face, not caring who was there to see. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, barely able to get words out of his mouth, his tears gathering in his throat.

“Sorry about what? What happened?”

“I’m sorry for the things that I’ve done to you. For being the way I was. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.”

Ruth’s eyes filled. “Oh, I know that, sweetheart, you already told me. I know.”

“I just realized that when I’m not with you, I’m ruthless.” He smiled, and his mother — who’d returned with a towel and was now tearful at the scene — laughed and clapped her hands, before grabbing her husband’s hand at the table.

“To all of you.” He pulled away from Ruth but wouldn’t let go of her hand. “I’m so sorry to all of you.”

“We know that, Lou.” Quentin smiled wobbily, emotion thick in his voice. “It’s all water under the bridge now. Okay? Stop worrying, and sit down for dinner; it’s all okay.”

Lou looked to his parents, who smiled and nodded. His father had tears in his eyes and nodded emphatically that it was all okay. His sister, Marcia, was blinking fiercely to stop her own tears.

They dried him, they kissed him, they loved him, they fed him, though he wouldn’t eat much. He told them in turn that he loved them, over and over again, until they were laughing and telling him to stop. He went upstairs to get a change of clothes before, according to his mother, he caught pneumonia. While upstairs, he heard Bud crying and immediately left his bedroom and hurried to his son’s room.