Rose's Rush Hour.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

ROSE.

I didn’t stop running even though I could hardly see, courtesy of the dark night and my wet eyes. I wasn’t running away, no. I was running towards. Towards the only person who could give me the answers I sought, and the solace I needed. I choked as I thought about him. Would he be able to give me solace? Or were Poppy’s words the truth?

No. They weren’t. They couldn’t be. He wasn’t like that. He could never be like that.

I stumbled as I hobbled over the green hill beside the church. My fingers clutched my skirt as I abandoned my shoes, too eager to reach my destination. All was silent as I ran through the grass, passing by a few stones until I reached the particular one I had been rushing towards.

Erected from the ground in a rectangular shape, with his name, MANZI ERIC JOHNSON carved in the middle, along with the necessary particulars.

My breath hitched and my legs finally gave away as I crumbed to the ground before him in a sobbing mess. I knew in my heart that Poppy’s words were meaningless because he didn’t want to leave me behind. He didn’t want to leave my brother or mother. But nothing could be done about his illness, caused by overworking in the factory and mines all his life. Lighthouse, though short lived, was like a paradise for him.

Yet somehow the words had still cut deep, and were a sharp reminder of how he wasn’t with me, how often I’d felt so lost without his presence and guidance, his words of encouragement and lessons.

Why did it have to be me to bear the loss, sadness and pain?

My trembling fingers traced the lettering of his name as my tears soaked my face, neck and dress.

“I miss you, papa,” I choked out and broke into a fresh bout of tears that had me dry heaving and my chest tightening so hard it was unbearable.

Putting up a brave front in front of others was my forte. I knew I’d had to be strong for mother, and if I had broken down in front of her back then, we wouldn’t have managed the business like we did.

But behind closed doors and when everybody left, when I had to get away from everybody, breaking down was all I could do. On his death anniversary within the security of my bedroom walls and on days when I missed him so much, it hurt –days such as this.

I didn’t know for how long I was there, but my tears had dried and all that was left was fatigue and a light pounding behind my eyes. I stayed seated with my knees up. I hugged them as I rested my aching head on them, looking out lifelessly in the dimness – the only source of light being the few lamps and moonlight.

The sound of footsteps reached my ears followed by a sigh and a familiar deep voice from behind me. “How you doing there, Brownie?”

I didn’t flinch. “How did you find me?”

He chuckled. “I’m an Inspector. I’m pretty good at finding people,” he replied. “I gathered the clues when Serge told me what happened.”

A brief moment of silence followed and he continued, “If your father were here, he’d be thrilled to celebrate each and every birthday of yours. He loved you, and still does. You know that, right?”

I lifted my head, gathering air in my lungs as I looked at the tombstone. “Mm.” I nodded.

Inspector Raphael dropped to a crouch and with a grunt, sat down in the grass beside me. It was a comforting gesture.

“You’re a handful, Brownie,” he said. “But you’d be the apple of any father’s eye who’d have you as his daughter.”

I turned my head to look at him and he was already smiling at me. His words made me feel warm inside and I held back my tears. He reached over and planted his large hand atop my head in acknowledgement.