Isabella looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw what no-one else was allowed to see - her true face. This was Isabella with her guard down, without the mask that had hidden her true feelings for so long. There was no smile in place, no tensed up features threatening to bring down her defences – all barriers had crumbled and she felt as though she could look into the deepest depths of her soul. The scariest thing was that she didn’t recognise herself anymore.

Turning away from the lost creature before her, Isabella walked out of the bathroom and instead of retiring to bed as she was planning to do, she pulled on the clothes she had just removed and went downstairs. Without stopping to pick up her bag she went directly to the door and left the house, the Yale lock which connected behind her being the only security left in place.

Isabella walked down her driveway, past her parked car and out into the street. She had nothing on her feet, she hadn’t even stopped for shoes, but the cold concrete against her skin did not register. On and on she walked, staring blankly ahead. She wasn’t taking in the scenery; she was oblivious to the sights and sounds around her.

She knew where she was headed; the cemetery had become her salvation. So strong was her need to be near them, she was being guided to her destination by a source within.

A light drizzle had started to fall, but she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel anything anymore. As she approached the ample birch tree that surrounded her son’s tiny grave, she longed for the strength of its branches to support her. When she reached its bough she sank her weight against it and looked at the tombstone that was forever etched in her mind; Corey Michael Prestwick, beloved son. 1996 – 2006.

Nine months ago, her precious boy had been taken from her in a twist of fate that was as tragic as it was familiar. A driver, too tired to be behind the wheel, had succumbed to a sleep that would last a life time. He didn’t go quietly; he took with him a family of three and a father and son when his car collided with several others at 80 mph on a major dual carriageway. Her husband Michael, and Corey, had been driving home from a football game. A big part of her was still waiting for them, even though they would never come home.

Turning her head, her eyes rested on her husband’s grave, painfully overshadowing their son’s. She had tried so hard to continue without them - had convinced many people in fact that she was struggling through, but she was tired and she didn’t want to put this much effort into breathing any longer. Isabella closed her eyes and thought of Michael and Corey before the fateful accident. They had been a happy family, laughter had filled their house; so much better than the eternal darkness that it had become. She wanted to be whole again; she knew it was selfish and even a little weak to give up so easily, but she didn’t care.

Isabella sat for an hour, with images of her family playing in her mind, like a projection show stuck on an eternal loop. The cold that had permeated her bones finally began to register, and though she did not want to, she began to hear the sounds around her. Perhaps it was the gentle sobbing that finally brought her out of her trance. She was a mother after all, and the sound of a child in distress could reach her no matter how far away she felt. Scanning the graveyard, she didn’t see anyone in her view line, but she knew they had to be close because it felt like they were right beside her. Isabella didn’t want to get up, but she could not ignore the anguish behind the tears; it seemed to be growing louder.

It took her a while to locate the child, but she found him behind one of the rows nearby. The boy looked no more than nine or ten. The sight of him, surrounded by tombstones as he laid his body against them was heartbreaking.

“Hello,” she said softly. Her voice was almost carried away by the breeze. Isabella couldn’t think of anything else to say, but it was a start. The boy turned towards her, his big eyes wide with grief and it brought her to her knees.

“Mickey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” said a young, harassed looking woman running towards them. She looked worried and then confused when she noticed Isabella.

The boy continued to look at Isabella, and perhaps because he saw something he recognised, his face crumpled and he cried harder.

“I’m so sorry,” the boy said, sobbing opening. The woman, who had been hovering until that point, suddenly rushed forward and tried to console him.

“It will be okay, Mickey, come on, we have to get you inside.” She looked at Isabella then and shock registered on her face.

“No, it’s all my fault. I killed her husband and little boy.”

Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. “My family were killed in a road accident.” She finally found her voice. “I assure you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“He was so tired, but I begged him to come pick me up. After mom died he struggled to keep a job and he was working all the time,” he said, babbling now. The rain mingled with his tears, and he blotted them with his sleeve in childlike fashion. “Then I got sick and I asked him to come get me, and I know it’s my fault…”

Isabelle gasped, “You’re Jeffrey Abbott’s son?”
Following his gaze, she saw the tombstone nearest to him and the name of the person who had taken away her family.

“Look, I’m really sorry about this, truly I am,” the woman said then, attempting to pick Mickey up. “You know the centre has rules, Mickey. You have to stop sneaking away like this.”

The boy’s body sagged against her; weak with defeat he allowed himself to be guided to his feet.
Isabella was crying openly now too. Mickey looked down at her with big sad eyes that reached out to her.

“How did you know?” she asked him.

“I saw your picture,” Mickey answered. He was being led away by his companion, but he didn’t take his eyes off Isabella. “My daddy was a good person,” he said over his shoulder, straining to look at her.

Isabella closed her eyes, the pain enveloping her as it usually did. Even with her lids pressed tight she could still see the boy’s eyes, pleading for forgiveness. It hurt her that he had shouldered such responsibility. He was around the same age as Corey, and she wanted to hold him; almost as much as she wanted to hold her son.

*********************

Isabella was staring into a similar pair of eyes now. All these years later, and they had the power to take her breath away. Handing the newborn back to his father, she looked at Mickey with a swell of pride.

“Congratulations, Mickey, he’s beautiful,” she said, feeling the old emotions return to her.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Izzy. You’ve been a good role model. You have been a mother to me in all the best possible ways and I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” Mickey replied, tears in his eyes.

“You’re a sentimental boy.”

“No more than you. I know what you’re feeling right now. I’ve always known,” Mickey said, sounding older than his twenty four years. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but after all these years, I feel as connected to you as I did fourteen years ago”. With a hint of pride he added. “We finally decided on a name.”

“What did you decide on?”

“Michael Corey Abbott,” he said, smiling when he saw the surprise in her eyes.

Isabella fought to control her emotions. They had taught each other a great many things; not only the act of forgiveness, but also the importance of life. As she looked down at Michael Corey, his beautiful face the image of his father’s, Isabella allowed the tears to flow freely down her face.

“Thanks, Mickey,” she said eventually.

“Thank you, Izzy. He has one hell of a woman to help raise him. You may not know how wonderful you are, but we do.”

“You bring out the best in me that’s all,” Isabella said, wiping away her tears.

Mickey’s wife, Jane, looked at them both in amusement, “I thought it was only women who got mushy at births and weddings!” she said.

“I know, I know, I just owe her a lot and Michael has made me think about my priorities, that’s all.”

“You don’t owe me anything. We were able to see each other that night, Mickey, and knew how to help each other. Let us be thankful for that gift, and for the gift of Michael. I am very proud of you both. Let me fix us something to drink and we can celebrate in style.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Isabella laughed softly, and walked towards the kitchen to collect some glasses. As she passed the hallway mirror she looked at her reflection and smiled. She had reinvented herself so many times over the years, but she tried to remain true. That night, when she met Mickey in a rain soaked graveyard, she had been saved somehow. She still missed her husband and son terribly, but she discovered that she could live without them and she didn’t have to hide herself away to do it.