“I don’t believe in balancing the scales,” said Abbie. “I don’t believe any good deed can erase the bad. You will always have killed Danny; you’ll never make up for it, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take every opportunity you can to improve the lives of others. To make yourself a person of whom you can be proud. I don’t think I’ll ever see you again, so this is up to you. But I hope to hell you don’t let yourself down. And I hope you don’t let Danny’s memory down either.”
The door opened. Sanderson stepped inside. Abbie turned to meet him, and, as she did, she saw Michael’s hand raise. Turning, Abbie took it. She offered the boy a sad smile, and he offered the same in return.
Crying now, he said, “Thank you.”
Smiling but holding back her own tears, Abbie nodded, squeezed Michael’s hand, and left the messed-up teen alone in his bed to suffer for what he’d done and to await whatever punishment was coming his way.
Thirty-Five
Before leaving the hospital, Abbie visited the maternity ward. Through the narrow window in one of a row of doors, Abbie observed one of the world's newest mums.
Jess' skin shined with sweat. Her expression and frame indicated utter exhaustion. In her eyes, there was the deep, endless sadness of loss. The loss of the man she had loved, who might as well have been dead, replaced by the liar, the cheat, the coward who she would have to decide whether to allow into her newborn's life. Having committed no crimes, Eddie would be free to leave the hospital as soon as his shoulder wound had recovered. What happened next would be up to Jess.
Despite the exhaustion and the loss, there was something else to be seen in Jess. A glimmer of hope. Because no matter what had happened to her on this day, something wonderful had also taken place. She had given birth to her first child.
Abbie watched as Jess cradled the tiny bundle in her arms. As she managed a smile for the little person despite the pain she had endured. Jess might have to tackle motherhood alone, but Abbie felt sure she would cope. Her baby would grow up happy, healthy, loved.
A hand on the door, Abbie almost knocked and went in. As she looked down, she noticed her other hand was on her stomach, massaging a bump that had been gone over a decade. There were tears in her eyes; she would be unable to cope if she went inside. She would weep uncontrollably, and her loss, plain for Jess to see, would be yet another anchor of misery weighing down the new mum's glimmer of hope, which was already fighting to stay afloat.
Unable to put either herself or Jess through any more pain than was necessary, Abbie took her hand from the door, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and left the hospital.
In the fading darkness of early morning, Abbie leaned against a railing covered in chipped red paint. Behind her was one wall of the hospital. Ahead, a segment of carpark. Keeping her drawstring bag over her shoulder and placing the cash bag between her feet, Abbie breathed in the cold air, clearing her lungs and thoughts. And she waited.
Ten minutes after Abbie stepped outside, Bobby arrived. She watched him walk onto the lot and weave through the cars, casting his eyes to the hospital. When he caught sight of Abbie, he raised a hand in greeting, then jogged to and up the steps onto the raised section on which Abbie stood.
"Are you not cold?" he asked as he arrived and placed his hands on the railing beside her. He wore cargo trousers and a thick jacket atop an even thicker jumper. On his hands, he wore gloves and atop his head was a woolly hat. Conversely, Abbie wore jeans that left her ankles exposed and a jumper that was not much thicker than the t-shirt beneath it.
"A little," she said, then raised a hand. "Don't offer me your coat."
Bobby had already grabbed the jacket to remove it. Flushing a little, he dropped his hands by his side, then placed them back on the railing. He looked a little awkward and a little downbeat. Abbie sighed into the cold air.
"I'm not staying long," she said. "My car's over there."
She pointed. Bobby followed her finger. Nodded. Abbie looked at the man at her side. The only man to take her on a date in who knew how long. The only man to kiss her.
"That's a cute bobble," she said, pointing to the top of Bobby’s woolly hat. Self-consciously, his hand rose to the top of the hat, and he flushed again. But he relaxed when he saw her smile. Realised she wasn't teasing.
"I'm a cute person," he said.
"You are," Abbie agreed. "But are you a good one?"
This earned her a curious look. Abbie met Bobby's eye but offered no follow up comment.
"Haven't you formed an opinion on that yet?" he asked.
"I had. But of late, my opinions have seemed to bear little relation to reality."
Another curious look. Bobby didn't know what Abbie was getting at. Why would he?
"I went after Francis to help three people," said Abbie. "Now Francis is gone, and I learn, of those three, one is a child abandoning, lying, cheating, arsehole. A coward who cares only for himself. Another is a messed up kid who murdered his uncle and will now spend years in jail." She looked at Bobby. "That leaves you."
He was staring at her. Wide eyes filled with fear and something that resembled wonder. Abbie knew on which point he was hung up.
"Francis was a monster," she said. "Best not to worry about what happened to him and instead focus on the positive: he won't be bothering you or your father any longer. Someone might take over his little empire,
