One Last Miracle [complete]

XVI

XVI

two months...

Arriving in a police car is just as odd as I imagined it to be. The second I step out, all eyes are on me. Assumptions are already being made about how I ended up in the car, but I ignore all the prying eyes, looking for James.

I don't spot him, so I wait by the car for dad to get out. He's radioing someone that he's here and may be a while, but the last thing I want to be doing is walking around alone. Beyond where his car is parked, all I can see is a giant crowd of people. There's various stalls lined up along the edges of the oval, and a giant stage set up in the distance, no more than twenty metres away.

Whatever is going on, I don't know, but it's going to be impossible to find James. Pulling my phone from the pocket, I send a quick text to ask him where he is.

Finally, dad hops out, shutting his door behind him. In the distance, I can see more police officers moving towards him, but I head to his side anyway.

He glances back at me, raising an eyebrow. "You alright?"

"Yeah," I say. I can't help but adjust the bandana over my head—something I'd worn knowing I'd be under public scrutiny all day. (In no way does it hide the cancer, and I'm aware, but at least I can lie to myself and play the ignorant card). "I just don't want to wait alone."

Dad nods. "Alyson, this town is small. They all know me—and they know you're my daughter. No one will say anything to you."

I know that. Even now, as dad's team come up to greet him, everyone stares, quickly looking away soon after. The fact that I don't want to stand out isn't the only reason I'm sticking close to dad, though; honestly, I'm scared of getting lost. The crowd is manic, the stalls appearing like a tangled web. The kids loping through strangers legs are the worst.

"At least we won't get rained on," dad says, and I turn my attention back to him. Only, he isn't talking to me, instead one of his colleagues. "Could be worse."

Dad's long-time partner, Derek Lawson, nods in agreement, before turning to face me. I've known him for years, so he's hardly a stranger, but I still have to force a wave out of sheer politeness. (It feels unspeakably awkward).

"How are you, Alyson?" he asks, eyebrows dipping low over his eyes in concern.

He knows of the cancer, of course, so there's no pretence to his words. "Fine," I say. It's all too tempting to tack on, I'm not dead yet, am I? but I bite my tongue. "Thanks for asking."

"That's great. Let's hope it stays that way; you're in my prayers."

I smile back politely. He and dad start talking between each other, so I just hang at dad's side awkwardly, simply crowd watching. Whatever is going on looks like it's been planned in advanced for months—all the stalls and people. I'm tempted to call dad out on why he lied about being aware of what's happening, but I don't.

Finding a bench off under a large Oak tree, I take a seat. Crossing my legs underneath me, I wait for James to respond.

*

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention! Seats are filling up quickly—so come quickly!"

Everyone seems to be ignoring the booming voice coming from the lone woman, standing on the stage. She looks too overzealous, if I'm honest; too perky for midday.