Read Online Half Life by Heather Atkinson - Free Book Online Page B

sent him home for some rest.  But he couldn ’ t sleep.  He couldn ’ t eat or breathe or do anything except think about Adele unconscious in her hospital bed, linked up to tubes and drips and machines that made terrifying noises.
      The gifts they were going to exchange were wrapped up beneath the tree in coordinating red and gold paper, maybe never to be opened.  He thought of the selfish pathetic drunk driver who had hit her on her way home from work.  He ’ d driven off, leaving her with a broken arm, shattered pelvis and internal bleeding.  Fortunately the police had caught the bastard so he would pay for what he ’ d done.  But that didn ’ t help Adele wake up. 
      He took another swig of vodka, grimacing as it burned a path down his throat then slumped to his knees, the tree towering over him.  This was their first Christmas as husband and wife, they were supposed to be together.  Adele was going to make dinner for the whole family, a massive Christmas day gathering full of fun and laughter.  Now he was here alone with a bottle of vodka for company, struggling with the knowledge that his wife might die.  Taking another drink his vision swam and he let the bottle drop, making a sloshing sound as its contents spilled onto the floor. 
      “ Adele, ” he groaned, the word full of longing and despair.  If she died he ’ d die too.
      Movement from the doorway caught his eye and he turned to see his wife walk into the room, looking radiant in the long red dress she ’ d bought especially for Christmas day.  She strode towards him, a tender smile on her lips.
      “ Adele? ” he murmured, pushing himself up to a sitting position, jaw falling open with astonishment.
      She knelt before him and ran her fingertips along the line of his jaw, just as she always did. 
      “ Look at the state of you, ” she said in her soft husky voice.
      “ You ’ re not real.  You ’ re in hospital. ”
      “ I ’ m here with you Michael.  That ’ s all that matters. ”
      A sob escaped his lips as he reached out a shaky hand to touch her face.  She looked just the same as always; glossy black hair cut into a neat bob, full red lips, liquid brown eyes.  Beautiful.
      “ Is it really you? ”
      She grasped his hand with her own.  “ Can ’ t you feel my skin, my warmth, my touch? ”
      He closed his eyes, better to savour the sensation.  “ Yes I can. ”   He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed it, smelt the perfume she always wore.  “ Baby it is you, ” he breathed, tears rolling down his face.
      He pulled her to him and held her close, burying his face in her hair.  She felt so solid and real in his arms.
      “ It ’ s snowing outside, ” she smiled, gazing out of the window.  Snow was one of her favourite things.
      “ Come on, ” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the patio doors. 
      They stepped out into the biting cold and it was only then he realised she was wearing just a strappy dress.
      “ You ’ re going to get cold. ”
      She gave him another disarming smile.  “ I ’ ll be fine. ”
      He was only wearing a thin shirt himself and shivered.  Adele rested her head on his shoulder and instantly he felt a warmth start to seep into him.  Wrapping her in his arms the warmth engulfed him, flowing from her into him and suddenly it wasn ’ t cold anymore. 
      Despite how real she felt he knew he must be dreaming.  His exhausted grief-stricken mind had created this illusion to help him deal with the trauma but he wasn ’ t complaining.  It was glorious.  He looked down at her, the white snow settling on her black hair and she smiled up at him.  Taking her little pointed chin between his large fingers he dipped his head to kiss her and the kiss she returned was pure Adele; warm, passionate and soft. 
      “ Dance with me, ” she smiled, pulling him onto the lawn that was now blanketed with snow.
      “ But there ’ s no music, ”