Learning to Breathe

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names,
characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © J C McClean 2012

Okay, just to warn you, this is going to be a long list!

Thanks to Mum and Dad – sorry for spending a lot of time holed up in my room writing
but thanks for being so understanding about it!

Caroline – thanks for always telling me to go after my dreams, your support means a lot to me!

Paula – again, the first person to read my finished draft. You tell me what is right and what is wrong with it – merci for all of your help.

Allison – you seem to provide me with ideas for characters and funny one liners, please just keep being you!

Rylee – you’re a wee dude and inspire me to keep pursing my dream … what kind of godmother would I be if I didn’t lead by example, eh?

Okay, now a wee list …
my aunt, uncle, and cousins (you know who you are) thanks for wanting to read my drivel! Many other family members including my bros in law – there are too many to mention but thanks to you all.

Special mention goes out to Lyn – massive thanks to you for our many deep and meaningful (usually alcohol-induced) conversations that help me see the positive when it appears that all hope is lost!

All my other friends – you know who you are! – Mega thanks to you all for your support!

Finally, again, my readers, thanks for sticking with me every step of the way … you guys inspire me to keep going.

“…I'm learning to breathe, I'm learning to crawl 
I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall 
I'm living again, awake and alive 
I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies …”

Switchfoot – ‘Learning to Breathe’

Preface

My lungs felt like they were on fire. I could taste the salty water but there was nothing I could do to stop it from rushing into my lungs. I was choking while I screamed out for help and I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, I could feel strong arms around me and hear someone comforting me.

“
Darcie, you’re going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise …”

In some distant part of my mind, I knew that he was telling the truth but, in our current situation, I couldn’t help
but feel that all hope was lost …

I woke with a start. My pyjamas were sticking to me and my sheets were soaked with sweat. My heart was racing and my breathing was ragged. I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself down.
It was just a dream
I told myself. It had felt so real but I needed to convince my rapid heart rate otherwise – I had to convince myself that it had been nothing.
Just another dream
I repeated to myself.

I managed to slow down my breathing and I pushed back the bed covers. I s
lowly made my way to the bathroom, turned on the light and looked into the mirror. My face was pale and my eyes were red – a sure sign that I had been crying at some point during the dream.

I studied my features closely:
my grey eyes looked haunted and my red curls were damp with sweat. I definitely didn’t look good. I sucked in a few deep breaths and splashed some water on my face.

“It was just a dream.” I told myself aloud, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

However, a single tear managed to escape. I shuddered and then wiped it away roughly, looking away from the mirror. I could tell myself that over and over again but it wouldn’t make it true. The truth was that it wasn’t a dream – it was a nightmare and it was a nightmare that haunted me every night for the past six months …

It was the second week of August
and my mother and I were moving. She had received a better job offer in Dover Springs and had jumped at the chance to take it. If I was being honest, I really didn’t care about the fact that we had to move. I didn’t care where we ended up … it wouldn’t change anything anyway.

My mother kept saying that
it was a good chance for us both to start afresh … I just kept wondering what she meant by that – it’s not as if our life had been that bad in Langley Falls. But, in the end, I didn’t mind moving – it’s not like I was leaving any friends behind anyway.

I
tended to avoid situations where it involved delving into my personal life. I had always felt uncomfortable divulging my entire life history to complete strangers. Perhaps that was why I was just that little bit more awkward than your average seventeen year old should be.

Nevertheless,
if this was a chance for me to start over, I wasn’t going to pass it up. I liked the fact that nobody in Dover Springs would know anything about my past. It would be quite refreshing knowing no one knew all about me – Darcie Gilmore. It also presented me with the opportunity to be creative about my life if anyone cared to ask me about it. After all, any lie was better than the truth …

My mother interrupted my disturbing thoughts as she pulled up outside our new home and smiled at me.

“Home sweet home.”

I merely nodded and pushed my sunglasses down from the top of my head – I was in no mood to deal with my mother’s small talk. Thankfully, the moving van guys decided to arrive at that very second, so I was safe – for now. I watched her make her way towards them before I opened the car door, grabbed my shoulder bag, and stared at the house in front of me. It looked nice enough: red-bricked, two storeys high and a quaint little garden.

I sig
hed, turned my back on the house, and opened the boot to my mother’s ancient Volvo. There appeared to be a lot more boxes than I remembered packing. I groaned to myself as I hauled two big boxes labelled ‘Kitchen’ up the garden path and into the house.

I was greeted by the lingering smell of fresh paint in the kitchen and it instantly gave me a headache.
I set down the boxes and decided to take a quick look around the other rooms. All of the other rooms had been painted also and new carpets had been laid – it looked like my mother had been busy organising this for our arrival.

I quickly climbed the stairs and
peeked into each of the rooms. There was one bedroom with an en-suite, two other bedrooms, and a large bathroom – all of which had been freshly decorated. I sighed and decided on taking the larger of the two normal bedrooms as my own room – it was painted a cool grey colour and had a big window.

“Darcie? Honey, where are you?” came my mother’s voice.

“Upstairs!” I yelled back to her. I soon heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and two seconds later, my mother appeared beside me.

“Ah, picking your room
?”

I nodded.
“I like this one – I like the grey walls and I just figured that you’d want the one with the en-suite. You don’t mind, do you?” I turned to face her, hoping that she wouldn’t read too much into my answer like she had been doing lately.

I watched her arrange her fea
tures into a neutral expression. “No, that’s okay honey. I’ll tell the moving van guys to put your bed in here.”

I br
eathed a silent sigh of relief.

N
o psychoanalysis today thankfully
!

I smiled at her and then continued to retrieve boxes from the car, silently praying that it stayed that way.

Three
hours later and the moving van had been unloaded as well as all of the boxes from my mother’s car. The furniture had been placed in the appropriate rooms but the boxes from the car still needed unpacked. I had just started unpacking some ornaments in the living room when my mother stepped into the room.

“I’m starved! How about we eat out for lunch and tackle this lot when we come back … what do you say?”

I looked up and took in my mother’s calm stance and pleasant smile.

S
omebody was trying too hard
.

Nevertheless, I gave my mother a small smile and nodded.

“Okay then, let’s go. I think there’s a little café in town – it shouldn’t be too far.”

“Sounds good.” I told her as she locked the front door and headed to the car.

Ten minutes later and we arrived at the café. It was quite tiny but I realised that this was partly due to the fact that there were plenty of squishy-looking chairs crammed into the limited space. On further inspection, it actually looked quite cosy and I was happy enough to take a seat while my mother ordered some coffee and sandwiches for us.

I looked around and noticed that it was actually rather busy – nearly every chair was occupied. I took another sweeping glance around at the décor – it was quite old-fashioned and Victorian looking – before shifting my gaze to the window next to me.

For such a small town, Dover Springs was very busy. There were a lot of people bustling about and I vaguely wondered what they were all thinking – I knew it was probably something less
troubling than my own thoughts at that very minute.

However, I didn’t dwell any further when my mother appeared with our lunch. I smiled as she sat down and poured us each a cup of coffee.

“So,” my mother began, “do you like it here so far?”

I sighed.

Oh how much was loaded into that one question.

I knew what my mother was really enquiring about – whether I would make some friends here and would I be able to l
et go of my past life at Langley Falls. I didn’t know the answer to those questions yet so I merely shrugged at her and said, “Yeah, I guess.”

I watched my mother’s concerned brown eyes scrutinise my expression; she knew that I was holding back but I could also tell that she didn’t want to push me either. Sure enough, she laughed and said, “Good, me too.” And that was the last of our conversation for the rest of our lunch.

After we had eaten, my mother decided to
run a few errands before heading back to unpack. I left her to it and wandered off around the town until I found a bookshop. The bell dinged as soon as I opened the door and I noticed the young guy behind the cash desk glance up for a second.

Our eyes met for a minute and then he returned his attention to the magazine that he was reading.
I shrugged off the weird moment and made my way over to the women’s fiction section. I browsed the titles, reading the blurbs of ones that had caught my attention until I found one that interested me.

Even though I had picked my book, I continued walking along the aisles but only so that I could get a better look at the guy behind the till.
There was something about the way he'd looked at me earlier - it intrigued me.

From where I was standing, I could tell
that he was remarkably good-looking. He had messy brown hair and was very tall and athletic-looking. I couldn’t see his eyes but I was definitely curious as to what colour they were. I had never really taken much interest in guys in my last town but
this
guy – there was something about him.

Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I decided that I had spent enough time dawdling about and that I should really pay for my book. Besides, I desperately wanted to see what he looked like up close – not to mention the fact that I thought he’d probably become suspicious of me if I browsed the ‘Travel and Holiday’ section a third time.

So, I rummaged in my bag for my purse and made my way up to him. I set the book on
the counter and waited for him to serve me. He finally looked up from his magazine and I discovered that he had the most extraordinary hazel eyes. He also had a rather large faint scar above his left eye and another scar on one side of his lower lip. When he smiled at me, I found that his mouth pulled into a crooked half-smile; the scarred part of his mouth didn’t move but it was still a beautiful smile. Beautiful enough that he managed to make me blush stupidly and grin back at him like an idiot.