The First Christmas Without You:. Michelle Betham

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СКАЧАТЬ Jase riding pillion on Matt’s Yamaha, even though Matt wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears speed-freak. He’d been riding those things for years, both of them had, and it wasn’t the first time Jase had been out with him. But that night, something just hadn’t felt right.

      I’d watched him from the living room doorway as he stood by the Christmas tree laughing with Matt, joking about something, and whatever it had been it had made Jase laugh out loud and I’d always remember how handsome he’d looked that night. How relaxed and happy and handsome. So I’d tried to push those niggling feelings to the back of my mind, even though they were constantly fighting to come to the forefront.

      He’d kissed me goodnight, holding me close and making me smile with the things he’d whispered in my ear, things that I’ll never, ever forget because they were the last things he ever said to me. And I can only thank God that one of those things had been ‘I love you’ and I’d told him I loved him too, because he never came home. My beautiful husband died that night when a driver, who we later heard had been three times over the limit, had crashed into the bike as Matt and Jase had made their way home along a narrow country lane. They’d taken a short cut because Jase had wanted to get back to me, Matt had told me later at the hospital as he was treated for nothing but a fractured wrist and bruised ribs. Jase had missed me, and he’d wanted to get home before I went to bed because he’d just wanted to be with me. But fate had seen to it that he never arrived.

      I said my last goodbye to him just two weeks before Christmas, but, as far as I was concerned, there was no Christmas anymore. Not without Jase. Oh, my family had been there with more support and love and strength than I could ever have asked for, but without Jase I could see nothing ahead of me. I could see nothing but a bleak and pointless future, the guilt of his death weighing heavily on my mind because I should have stopped him from going out that night. I should have stopped him; I should have told him what I was feeling. Because he trusted me, he would have listened. I know he would. But I’d let him go, knowing that something just didn’t feel right. I’d let him go, and that guilt had never gone away. Ever.

      It had taken a good few months before I’d even attempted to start putting my life back together again after Jase had died. I’d thrown myself back into work at the shop, taking comfort from the warm surroundings I’d created and the people who came in to talk about Jase, because I’d needed to talk about him. I needed to feel as though he was still around, still a part of me, because it had scared me to think that I might forget anything of the life we’d had together, even one second of it. So I’d spent every day in the shop, and every night I’d go back to our cosy little home and relive every memory of my wonderful husband, replaying our life together over and over in my head until I could do nothing but cry myself to sleep. And every morning I’d wake up, and for a few seconds before I became completely lucid I’d be tricked into thinking that everything was fine, before, once again, being thrown back into a world of loss and loneliness when I realised that Jase wasn’t there. That he was never coming back.

      But whilst friends and family saw my routine as something that wasn’t particularly healthy, I saw it as a way of keeping Jase alive, of keeping his memory vivid and clear so that I could still see him there when I closed my eyes, still remember everything about him. And although it may have been a year since he’d died now, I still needed to do that, still needed to have him with me, despite what everyone else was saying – that I should move on. What did that mean anyway? Did they mean I should find someone else? Fall in love again? That was never going to happen as far as I was concerned. Jase had been the love of my life, and I knew I could never love anyone else the way I’d loved him. I didn’t want to love anyone else; I was quite happy being alone – with my memories.

      But I’d finally come to the conclusion that getting away from Tynemouth for a few days was a good thing. For almost twelve months I’d never really set foot outside of the town, preferring to stay in close proximity to my comfort zone. But, as another Christmas without Jase loomed, with only the prospect of days back home with my parents lying ahead of me, despite them being the best parents anyone could ask for, I’d had to do something. So, maybe making this effort, showing people that I was at least willing to try and move forward and get on with my life, perhaps that would make them back off slightly. And, in reality, maybe it really was time to try and move on. Even though that was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done, because I just didn’t know if I could do it without Jase.

      Jase Collins. My husband. Now and forever. Always.

       Chapter Three

      I looked out of the window as the plane slowly made its descent into Kittila airport, snow falling from the already darkened sky even though it was only one-thirty in the afternoon. Craning my neck as the plane grew ever closer to the rapidly whitening runway, I was sure I could see ice forming on the wings but, thankfully, I had no time to inspect more closely as I was thrown back in my seat, the bumpy but otherwise perfect landing signalling our arrival into the Arctic Circle.

      I closed my eyes for a second and exhaled. There was still a very small part of me that hoped that, when I opened them, I’d be back home in Tynemouth, sitting by my beautiful open fire listening to some old-school Stevie Nicks and wishing – wishing things were different. But they weren’t. And I was trying hard to get used to it, so I hoped this holiday might actually make that journey a little easier. Matt had certainly promised to help take my mind off things, although I doubted very much that a snowboarding lesson from a thirty-six-year-old rocker who was having trouble growing up was something that would suddenly help me turn my life around.

      ‘You okay, Jess?’ Matt’s voice broke into my thoughts and I looked at him. My baby brother. We’d always been close, but ever since Jase’s death we’d grown even closer. After all, Jase had been one of Matt’s closest friends, so losing him had been hard for the both of us. He’d just handled it a hell of a lot better than me.

      ‘I’m fine,’ I replied, squeezing his hand as the seatbelt signs clicked off and everyone began shuffling about, standing up and moving out into the narrow aisle to retrieve their luggage from the overhead lockers.

      ‘You sure?’ Matt asked, his blue eyes looking at me with that same concerned look that I was actually quite tired of seeing now. Yeah. It was definitely time to start pulling myself together and showing people that I didn’t need their sympathy anymore. I was strong. I could do this. I just wished I didn’t have to.

      ‘Matt, I’m fine, alright? Stop fussing. You’re as bad as Mum.’

      ‘I just care about you, Sis,’ he said, stuffing a copy of Kerrang! into his bag.

      ‘Yeah, I know you do,’ I sighed, wrapping my scarf tightly round my neck as the cabin doors were opened and a blast of ice-cold air surged through the plane’s interior, causing many of the passengers to gasp out loud at the freezing temperatures that were waiting for us all outside. But this was Christmas in Lapland – and it just wouldn’t be the same without the snow and the cold and the prospect of cosy nights in warm, wood-panelled bars and restaurants, would it? Suddenly, a small surge of excitement shot right through me, something I hadn’t felt in a long while. Maybe this holiday really would be the making of me. Maybe this was what I’d needed all along, a break from the memories and a past that people always told me was holding me back. Deep down I knew I didn’t have to stay locked inside some kind of bubble to remember Jase. He’d never leave me; I knew that. He’d always be there; he’d always be with me. I would never let the memory of him fade and I was sure, more than anything, that he wouldn’t want me to be sad. He’d want me to move on. He’d want me to be happy again. Isn’t that what people had been telling me for months now?

      ‘You’re СКАЧАТЬ