Mine To Lose Read Free Page B

child.
    Mike gripped the handle and yanked it from his chest, and my body was rocked by the sudden loss of momentum. My eyes, squeezed shut for much of the dive, opened slowly to survey the extent of the damage ... and widened in shock as I took in the beauty that awaited me. Floating to earth, carried aloft by the same wind that earlier had pronounced my end, I watched as beneath me the rest of the divers' chutes blossomed and deposited them one by one gently on terra firma. I was no longer thinking about death – I was thinking about life. My life.
    If I died today, what legacy would I have left behind? People would have remembered me as Jordan Winston’s wife, Rosemary Hilton’s daughter. Other than that, once the hand of time and the will of weather had wiped my name from my gravestone, there would be no trace of me, that I ever existed.
    We touched down with a rush of adrenaline and a hearty cheer of victory.
    ‘Well done, birthday girl!’ Mike panted with a great big smile.
    I could not stop laughing with glee. Exhilaration possessed me, and my mind felt like the horizon at dawn. I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be remembered. I wanted to matter. I fell to my knees with a quiet smile and whispered, ‘I want a baby.’
     

Cha pter 3
    ‘Terrible thing happened to Carol over the weekend,’ Martin said as he closed my office door on Monday morning. I had arrived at work early, eager to tell my colleagues about the weekend and the life-altering epiphany I had, the fear of the jump, and my recollection of my grandfather’s stories, but that looked like it was going to have to wait.
    ‘What happened? Is she alright?’ I asked.
    Martin was a man of little emotion, not because he was insensitive, but because he had such a logical mind, such a composed demeanour. He wasn’t the sort of man to exclaim or marvel over something; therefore, I was alarmed when he reacted this way to one of my regular clients.
    ‘As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,’ he reported, ‘He’s done a right job on her; even worse than last time.’
    ‘Don’t say that,’ I implored. ‘I had a feeling he’d kick off when she said she was going to go to stay with her brother on Saturday. I did warn her.’ I shook my head. I didn’t have to be a clairvoyant to know that her husband, James, was going to react violently to his abused wife testing the waters of freedom.
    ‘I remember you said something to that effect,’ he answered. ‘But don’t you think you should have lodged a stronger dissuasion at her suggestion?’
    Martin Saxon was my colleague, although more like a supervisor, slightly elevated in status and experience at the Family Centre where I worked with abused women. He was a short man with broad shoulders and receding fair hair that was sure to be gone in a few years.
    ‘I did,’ I defended. ‘She wouldn’t listen. Look, I admit I was happy that she finally was finally standing up to him—’
    ‘I wasn’t insinuating that it was your fault she went ahead with her plan,’ he eased me. ‘You just have such a powerful penchant for persuasion, such a wonderful ability to make people feel they can take on the world. Maybe you should have been less ... enthusiastic.’
    ‘Why do I get the feeling that you’re accusing me of pushing her too hard for a change,’ I said, feeling a bit confrontational.
    ‘Please don’t make this a personal issue. There’s nothing wrong with your methods. In fact, they’re normally very effective. All I am saying is that perhaps your timing was out in this instance?’
    ‘How do you mean?’ I asked, genuinely perplexed by his statement.
    ‘As you know, correct timing is as important as successful counselling. I think you may have applied too much pressure on Carol to start making life changes before she was ready to sever the tie with James completely. Am I making sense?’ he asked in a less confident tone.
    He did make sense. Now that I shifted