Just Breathe Again Read online

  Just Breathe

  AGAIN

  C.A. HARMS

  Just Breathe Again

  Copyright © 2019 by C.A. Harms.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: August 2019

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-863-9

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-863-8

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Bonus Scene

  Close your eyes, let go of the fear, and just breathe again.

  Prologue

  Aaron

  She looked at me again with hopeful eyes, smiling brightly like she always had. From the day she was born, I swear, that face of hers lit up my world. My sweet little girl, so innocent and happy, she made everything better. Ivy was what brought Lynn and me together.

  Lynn sat on the steps leading up to our front door, a place she’d sat often, watching me and our daughter run around the front yard with not a care in the world. “More! More!” Ivy's arms shot out once more while bouncing on her tippy toes, reaching up for me with excitement.

  I couldn’t hold back my own happiness from my daughter’s joy. She could take the worst of days and make it better with just one smile.

  “Okay, pretty girl,” I knelt down, bringing myself closer to her, “Daddy needs a drink, then we’ll fly some more.”

  She loved when I held her above my head and pretended she was flying high. It had been something we started doing at a very young age and never stopped.

  Ivy was a blessing. Though she was a surprise to both me and Lynn, she was the greatest gift we’d ever been given. A miracle created during a night of two friends who’d drunk a little too much and got a little too wild. Lynn and I grew up together, lifetime friends, and until that night…nothing more. But Ivy changed it all; she changed us.

  I stepped inside and walked toward the refrigerator, gathering two bottles of water and one juice before heading back outside. The moment my hand touched the wooden frame, I heard the screeching sounds of tires, followed by the helpless cries of Lynn.

  I dropped everything and ran.

  Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

  I heard the tires screeching, the crunching of the collision into one pole after another, then the metal scraping sounds of the fence. Everything playing out in slow motion, prolonging the outcome, reminding me of what was to be lost. My heart raced, my pulse quickened, but no matter how hard I tried to move, I couldn’t. It felt as if the weight of a thousand men was holding me down, forcing me to watch as my little girl stood in the path of destruction.

  I saw the look in Lynn’s eyes—fear and terror so strong I swore my heart stopped beating.

  Then her screams filled my head. Those cries are something I know without a doubt I’ll never forget.

  I awoke abruptly, sitting straight up in bed, looking around the room. I was momentarily lost to my surroundings, feeling as though I was still trapped in that day. But it’s the same every time, me wishing it was nothing more than a horrifying dream, only to be left feeling defeated when I realized that it was my reality, my nightmare, one I’d relive every day of my life.

  Hanging my head, I felt the tears roll over my cheeks and drip onto my bare chest. My body trembled as I tried to fight the visions and memories in my mind.

  Everything was perfect. I had a beautiful wife, an amazing daughter, and in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it then, and still, now, I’m forced to accept that nothing I said or did could bring my sweet angel back.

  Reaching out to the nightstand beside me, I searched in the darkness for the bottle of Jack I knew I'd left there. It was always there. It may have been wrong, it may have been the coward’s way out, but it was the only way I’d ever been able to gain a sliver of peace. I’d managed to lose my daughter and my wife. One by a horrific accident and the other by her own dark demons. The worst part about it was, I blamed myself for both.

  After we lost Ivy, I lost myself. I'd become blinded by regret, unable to see the signs that were laid out so clearly before me. Ivy was my world. One second, she was laughing and playing, and the next…she was gone. A father was supposed to protect his little girl at all costs, but I couldn’t. Every day since we lost her, I’d been drowning in the memories, tortured by the emptiness in her eyes when I held her in my arms. It was because of my own inability to accept my daughter’s death that I was unable to see Lynn’s cries for help.

  It was less than six weeks after we buried our daughter that Lynn and I parted ways. She said she didn’t blame me, but I could see it in her eyes. With every tear she shed, I felt my world crumbling just a little more. Holding on to myself only grew harder when Lynn shared the news that she was moving back to her parents’ house. They gave her the support I couldn’t, not when I was falling apart at the seams. It was almost impossible to get myself out of bed every day, and I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most. I wanted to give up. I wanted to let go of everything I had left. God, I just wanted the pain to disappear.

  I wanted to be able to breathe without feeling guilty that I still could.

  I wanted to go back to the day that truck veered off the road, busted through the fence and hit Ivy head on. I wanted, instead, for her to be tucked away safely inside our house beneath the cozy blankets on her bed. I wanted to look up from the place we’d sat at on the couch so many times before while watching Saturday morning cartoons and find Lynn moving around the kitchen, humming along to a tune on the radio as she baked something for the three of us to share.

  I wanted my life back.

  I wanted my family back.

  Chapter One

  Faith

  Four Years Later

 
; I stood in the center of my New York City apartment, looking around one last time before I said goodbye. I’d wanted an adventure, something else besides the country life I was born to. I wanted to make it big, to take photos of the most beautiful places and the most unique people. I wanted to capture the essence, the purity of those moments my muse least expected me to. I’d gone away to college young, thinking I could live the city life, but even though I’d found my calling, I still always felt like something was missing.

  That sense of home, a feeling of belonging.

  I missed the clean air, the sounds of the peacefulness of each night. The howl of the wind over the fields around my childhood home, the rustle of the trees, and even the crickets on a late night.

  I was too stubborn to admit that life in New York wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be. I pushed forward and moved on, pretending each time my parents called that everything was wonderful. I didn’t want them to worry or be disappointed. They saw my life as glamorous and successful, but in reality, it was so lonely.

  When my mother called and told me my father had fallen, fracturing his hip and breaking his leg, which led to surgery, I had my mind made up before she even finished telling me the story. I was going back home. I wanted to be near them. I wanted to return to the life I had before. This was my chance to return to the place where, only a few years ago, I felt was not enough. The truth was it was everything, but it took going out into the world and living the fast life to know that my dream was always right in front of me.

  I took in one last deep, satisfying breath as I stepped back and closed the apartment door behind me. Goodbye to the tiny space that I felt was closing in around me every time I stepped inside. A small little loft, which was all I could afford. One that came furnished and ready to live in. Everything I owned, everything I’d accumulated fit spaciously inside of my small Toyota Prius.

  I should have felt sadness as I walked toward the elevator and stepped inside; only all I felt was pure excitement. With each floor I passed on my way to the main lobby, that eagerness only grew.

  “I’m gonna miss that pretty face of yours.” Franklin, the doorman, looked up from the front desk as I stepped off the elevator. “You always seem to brighten my day.”

  “I’m gonna miss you too, Franklin.” I wasn’t just saying that. I moved around the side of the desk with my arms stretched out before me, and he wasted no time doing the same. He was a sweet little man in his mid-fifties and with a heart of gold. A father of five children of his own, and somehow, in the last few years, he had become a father figure to me as well. He was one of the main things I’d miss most about this part of my big city adventure, that was for sure.

  “You get everything settled upstairs?” I stepped back, releasing him from my hold, and nodded. “That’s good.” He bent down and grabbed a small box from the side of his desk. “Martha said to give you these for the road.”

  I could already feel my mouth watering as I imagine the yummy contents inside. “Are those—”

  “Her cookies and brownies, freshly baked for you.” I held my hands out and wiggled my fingers eagerly. Franklin chuckled but wasted no further time handing off the sweet goodness.

  “She is a goddess.” I lifted the lid, and when I was met with the aroma of freshly baked goods, my stomach growled happily in reaction.

  “I’d have to agree.” I lifted my gaze to meet Franklin’s and found him smiling happily. One of the best things about Martha and Franklin was the love they shared for each other. Even after thirty-three years of marriage, he still looked at her like she was his complete world. “She made me promise to tell you that you must stay in touch.”

  “Of course.” Though I may not have been able to visit often, there would always be the telephone.

  “She’s always wanted to travel, so who knows?” Franklin offered a little shrug. “One day, we might just end up on your doorstep in Gillette, Wyoming.”

  “I’d love that.” It would for sure be a big difference from what they were used to in their forever city life, but one I knew two people such as Franklin and Martha would love, no doubt.

  As I exited the building I’d referred to as home, I took one last look around then crossed the street to my awaiting car. One full of my clothes, camera equipment, and the little items I’d accumulated over the years. Living with my parents after being on my own would be an adjustment, but it wouldn’t be forever. Just because I would no longer be living here, taking photos for magazines and newspapers, didn’t mean I still wouldn’t be able to do the things I loved. I’d find my way back home. I knew I would.

  ***

  Two days of travel, only stopping for gas, food, and to simply rest for a few hours each night, I arrived in Gillette. Twenty-seven hours of road, listening to books on tape, and, of course, the mixture of calls from both my mother and father kept me going. I’d forgotten just how torturous the drive was because, normally, I would have flown. Had I not needed to get my car back home, I would have chosen flying this time too.

  I was exhausted and a bit cranky, but that seemed to fade slightly when the WELCOME TO GILLETTE, WYOMING sign held up by two brick pillars came into view. I was finally home again. Only this time, to stay.

  I decided to drive through the center of town much slower than the displayed speed limit as I look around, remembering every detail of my childhood and adolescence. The hardware store my first real boyfriend Jessy’s parents owned was still going strong. Then, there was that same candy store a few doors down where Deanna and I stopped every day after school on our way to her house. We’d pick out what we wanted, and once we stepped outside, we would split ours in half and give the other half to one another. We were both thankful that our tastes were similar and that we always managed to get something we both liked.

  It was just after eight in the evening, and I imagined most people were home, relaxing with their families. I took a few turns, going past the houses and buildings I’d been familiar with throughout my younger years. This place held so many memories for me, and looking back on those times in my life gave me a strong, nostalgic feeling. I didn’t know how I ever thought this place wasn’t enough, because it was. The beauty, it had always been there. I was just blinded by those big dreams that I somehow thought Gillette couldn’t fulfill.

  A person could have all the success in the world, but without those they loved to share those accomplishments with, they just don’t seem to mean as much as they’d hoped for. I’d managed to land some amazing opportunities in the city, some great accounts, and lifelong fans, yet each night, I’d go back to my stuffy, little apartment and I’d feel empty. I’d feel the loneliness even stronger when things went quiet.

  I turned onto that familiar drive—the one I’d driven more times than I could count. Winter Creek Road stretched out more than twelve miles. The winding turns, the hills that tickled your stomach when you drove over them at just the right speed. Fields of open land, houses scattered off in the distance made visible in the darkness only by the soft glow of lights mounted on barns and garages. I smiled when one specific home came into view as I took the gravel road just over the small bridge that crossed Dusty Creek. The creek was a small trickling trail of water that flowed around our property and had quickly been the inspiration for the name of my father’s business.

  I felt like a kid all over again every single time I saw my childhood home. I had always loved the home I grew up in. It held such a rustic feel, with a logged front and a huge wrap-around porch that sat on close to twelve acres of land. It was my father’s pride and joy, his haven, where he created some of the most beautiful furniture pieces I’d ever seen. His work was found in hundreds of homes around the area, from general carpentry to kitchen tables, hutches, and so much more. Custom cabinetry with his own special finesse, things with such unique beauty, everyone just knew they were made with love and dedication.

  That had always been my father’s passion. It was never a hobby to him, but a means to provide for his family
while doing exactly what he loved. He had people from all the surrounding counties waiting in the wings just to have a piece of Dusty Creek Designs gracing their homes. He started out at a young age and quickly, with word of mouth and the pieces to prove his abilities, the business took off. He made a good life for himself and for my mother. He earned everything they had through blood, sweat, and even tears.

  The lights were on inside the house, shining brightly through the large windows above the handmade two-panel front door. The windows started at the top of the door and went all the way up to the front peak of the home. The large chandelier in the center of the entryway was also one of my father’s masterpieces.

  I paused halfway up the drive and placed both hands on the wheel as, again, I remembered growing up here. As a young child and teenager, I’d done what most children do and dreamed of moving out and getting away. I was so young and naive to think there was something out there so much better than what was right before me. Don't get me wrong. The world was a beautiful place, with so many things to see and explore, but the saying “there’s no place like home” was so true.

  Slowly taking my foot off the brake, I began again to ease my way up the remaining drive and slowed to a stop next to my mother’s SUV. I laughed to myself as I took in the size of her bulky vehicle next to my tiny clown car. It was perfect for the city, but here, my tiny Prius was so out of place.

  The moment I opened my car door, I heard Teddy and Dazy, two Saint Bernards that were purchased to fill the empty nest syndrome my parents faced once I’d moved away. They were spoiled rotten, and I’ll admit adored, not just by my parents, but by me too.

  I didn’t even bother to grab my things, only my purse from the passenger seat before crawling out and hurrying toward the front door. A strong sense of home hit me the moment I stepped up onto the front porch. Before I had the chance to enter, the door came open in a hurry, and suddenly, I was pulled into an embrace that caught me by surprise.