Forgetting How to Breathe Read online

  Copyright © 2018 Anita Daher

  Yellow Dog

  (an imprint of Great Plains Publications)

  1173 Wolseley Avenue

  Winnipeg, MB R3G 1H1

  www.greatplains.mb.ca

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced

  or transmitted in any form or in any means, or stored in a database

  and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Great Plains Publications, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a license from Access Copyright (Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency), 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, M5E 1E5.

  Great Plains Publications gratefully acknowledges the financial support provided for its publishing program by the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund; the Canada Council for the Arts;

  the Province of Manitoba through the Book Publishing Tax Credit

  and the Book Publisher Marketing Assistance Program; and the Manitoba Arts Council.

  Design & Typography by Relish New Brand Experience

  Printed in Canada by Friesens

  Cover image of children by photographer David Jordan, Leeds UK

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Daher, Anita, 1965-, author

  Forgetting how to breathe / Anita Daher.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-927855-91-1 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-927855-92-8 (EPUB).--

  ISBN 978-1-927855-93-5 (Kindle)

  I. Title.

  PS8557.A35F67 2018jC813'.6C2017-907259-5

  C2017-907260-9

  Flóki-Vilgerðarsson loosed the ravens at sea. The first flew up and turned back the way they’d come. The second spread its wings and soared high, circled the area around the boat, and returned without the news they sought.

  The third led the way sure and steady toward land.

  —Loosely translated from the medieval manuscript, Landnámabók, the Icelandic Book of Settlements

  Chapter One

  Tia struggled to keep exasperation from her voice. “Come on, Tag. I told you we have to hurry.”

  “But I don’t want to hitch a ride,” Tag whined. “Can’t we take a bus?”

  Her brother’s complaining was beginning to grate on her last nerve. She knew it was because he was scared—and only eight years old. With all they’d been through, she sometimes forgot that he was still a little kid. But what choice did they have? Winnipeg was a one-hour drive from their new home in Manitoba’s Interlake. Too far to walk.

  “There is no bus,” Tia told him. “Anyway, it’s Friday night. Lots of people will be driving to Winnipeg to see shows and stuff.” It was what people did. Mama had gone to lots of shows before she’d disappeared. It was one of her favourite things.

  “We’re not supposed to hitchhike.”

  “It’s fine.” At thirteen, Tia figured she was pretty good at telling nice from nasty. She would keep Tag safe.

  “But why do we have to go at all?” Tag asked.

  “You know why.”

  “Because of Scout.”

  “No, it’s Cathy. She could have said yes. The lodge is huge.”

  A dog that big belongs in a zoo, not a house. Cathy had said.

  Yeah, right, Tia thought. Exaggerate much? But Cathy had insisted the dog should go to the animal rescue centre. Remembering Cathy’s words, and the argument that followed, made Tia’s blood boil all over again.

  But he needs a home, just like Tag and I did.

  You and Tag are people.

  So what? It’s not like you don’t have space.

  I’m sorry, Tia, but the answer is no. I won’t change my mind on this.

  “He’s just a dog,” Tag said.

  “How are you even my brother?”

  Tia loved her brother with everything in her, but they were polar opposites in terms of personality. Tia was more like Mama—adventurous, willing to take a chance on things, while Tag was cautious. Maybe his nature came from their father. Daddy had died when Tag was a baby and Tia was five. Her memories of him were dim, but at least she had a few. More than Tag.

  A gust of icy wind stole her breath, pushing her back. It was almost April, but the warmth of spring so recently arrived with early buds and sun kisses had disappeared like a promise it couldn’t keep. Tia tucked her chin into her jacket collar, moving quickly. She was in a hurry to get some distance from Cathy and Bob’s, the latest in a string of foster care placements.

  “You’ll love the Magnussons,” their caseworker, Jamie, had said as she dropped them off one week and two days ago. She’d said the same thing about the other four homes Tia and Tag had been placed in over the past two and a half months, none of which had worked out.

  As always, they’d carried their belongings in garbage bags. Kids in foster care didn’t get suitcases. But garbage bags would make them stand out in this town, which would get them stopped before they’d hardly made a start.

  When they’d left the house with Scout, fake mom and dad hadn’t even noticed they were wearing their school backpacks. It’s not stealing, Tia told herself. Cathy and Bob had said they were theirs to keep. But instead of notebooks, inside they each carried a toothbrush, extra socks and underwear, two shirts.

  Jamie had promised the Magnussons’ place would be different, and on the surface, it was. The home was in the country next to Lake Winnipeg but still close enough to the small town of Gimli that they could walk there if they didn’t mind a short hike. Cathy and Bob ran a tourist lodge called the Great Blue Haven. Guests stayed in cabins nestled along Lake Winnipeg, while the family lived in the main house, serving up breakfasts in a quaint tearoom.

  Oh, Cathy and Bob acted nice enough, but Tia knew it wouldn’t last. It never did.

  The Magnussons hadn’t yelled at them or hit them or anything like that, but there was something about Cathy that got under Tia’s skin. Apart from when she was saying “no,” she was way too nice, like over the top, like a TV version of a mother. Tia couldn’t figure her out. It wasn’t like she was kid-starved or anything—Cathy and Bob already had young twin daughters, Summer and Daye.

  Tia shivered and wished she’d thought to wear her sweater underneath her jacket.

  “How much longer, Tia?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “C’mon, let’s just go back. It wasn’t so bad there. I liked it. Better than running away.”

  “We’re not running away, we’re running to. It’s different. Besides, Uncle Richard is in Winnipeg. He’s rich. He’ll help us.”

  “He’s not really our uncle.”

  “He said we could call him that.”

  “How do you know he’s rich?”

  “He lives in a hotel, doesn’t he? That probably means he owns it.”

  “But we don’t even know his last name,” Tag argued. “Why can’t we just call the hotels from here?”

  “Because we can’t,” Tia snapped. She didn’t need Tag pointing out that her plan wasn’t that well thought out. “If we’re there in person, they’ll see we mean business.”

  “Who?”

  “They! You know perfectly well who I mean! Anyway, Social Services knows about him, and they haven’t done anything.”

  “Have too. Jamie said they couldn’t find him.”

  “We have to find him ourselves. Besides, if the Magnussons really wanted us to stay, they would have said yes to Scout.”

  Okay, fine, maybe this wasn’t really about Scout, but he was the fin
al straw.

  No, you can’t take a break from school. No, you can’t have food in your bedroom. No, you can’t stay up past nine o’clock. No, Tag can’t have extra applesauce in his lunch.

  Tia’s dark thoughts softened as the shaggy, blond dog in front of them glanced back over his shoulder, as if checking to see if they were still following. Mouth open, tongue lolling out one side over black lips, he looked like an Irish wolfhound with a little something else mixed in. He was a big dog, the biggest Tia had ever seen, but not the giant their new foster mother had made him out to be.

  “How do you even know that’s his name?” Tag asked.

  “I don’t know. He just looks like it—stop asking so many questions!”

  “Sorry,” Tag mumbled, sounding not sorry at all.

  A slippery patch and a crazy dance to stay upright interrupted their bickering.

  Tag grabbed hold, helping to steady her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Weird weather.”

  Tia shivered again. From morning’s first blink, grey skies had hung low and harried the land first with ice-cold drizzle, and then tiny snow pellets. There had even been the occasional rumble of thunder, though it had been faint, as if embarrassed. Now, as daylight began to fade, invisible fingers of ice snuck between folds of their outer wraps to replace warm spaces deep inside with something cold and hollow.

  The last time the weather had been this strange was in October. The days had shortened like they always did, and leaves had all but blown from the trees. But one day after the morning frost had burned away, the sun got hotter and hotter, like a child stomping its foot in defiance. By evening, it was sweltering.

  Long after Tag had gone to bed, Mama and Tia sat at the kitchen table, sipping iced peppermint tea. Mama moved to the open, night-darkened window and paused there, her fingertips resting lightly on the latch, looking out, as if seeing beyond the street, the city, to someplace faraway. She stood there so long that Tia wondered if she’d forgotten about her. Then, in a singsong voice, Mama confided that sometimes she thought about just taking off, getting a new name and starting a new life. When Tia asked what her and Tag’s new names would be, she came back to herself, giggled, and said they had no one to hide from.

  It was nothing. Just a silly what-if, like a story you sometimes imagined yourself inside. Except that it had made Tia feel all fluttery. She hadn’t felt safe.

  After that, she’d felt the same way every day. The dull ache in her chest she woke with would go away when she saw Mama at the table sipping her coffee, but it would grow back through the day, like a lengthening shadow, until she rushed home and saw Mama was still there.

  Then, in January, Mama disappeared, and the shadow had wrapped all around her.

  It hadn’t taken long for Tia to grow tired of the sympathetic looks in people’s eyes, the ones that said she and Tag were orphans.

  But they weren’t.

  You can’t be an orphan when you still have a mother, Tia thought. Even if you don’t know where she is.

  Tia bit her lip. She knew Tag liked Cathy and Bob, and she was taking him away anyway. It was for the best. No matter how nice they acted, they weren’t family. Tia and Tag would never truly fit.

  Maybe taking off was impulsive, but it didn’t matter. All Tia knew was that she couldn’t stay another minute at the Magnussons, and there was no way she’d leave Tag behind. Not ever. Abandoning people who love you was about the worst thing a person could ever do. That wasn’t Tia.

  And it wasn’t Mama, either.

  It couldn’t be.

  If she let herself think that, even for a second, she was afraid she’d forget how to breathe.

  “Tia,” Tag whimpered, touching her hand. He’d stopped in front of a wrought iron gate at the side of the road. It was an entrance to a small cemetery—one of those private family ones that dotted the countryside, abandoned and overgrown. Tag had always been terrified of cemeteries. Tia had no idea why. Maybe he’d seen some spooky movie, or maybe someone had told him a scary story. Whatever the reason, Tia had learned not to push or tease him. It only upset him more. Instead, she held his hand. As long as she stayed quiet, he’d calm.

  Big, soft flakes of snow had begun to fall, insulating them, muffling any sound they might have heard from the highway, which wasn’t too far away. Still, this road was little more than a lane, and as it disappeared around the next bend, poplar, aspen and spruce crowded the edges of it, reaching skyward. It was like the entrance to another world far from home.

  Tia shook her head, breaking the spell. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

  All at once, there was a commotion from around the bend.

  “Holy!” Tag cried.

  Tia spun around as if an electric jolt had shocked her body. When she saw what had caused Tag to cry out, she froze.

  Chapter Two

  Like something from a dream, a small herd of horses came at them in an odd, running sort of walk, surrounding them, moving around them. Tag screamed, causing one to rear up in front of them.

  Heart pounding, Tia wrapped her brother in her arms, shielding him. Amid the sounds of hooves clattering against gravel and the snorting and whinnying of the horses, she heard a dog barking. “Scout!” she called, fearful the dog would be stepped on, or would frighten the beasts even more.

  The world became a swirl of colour—brown, black, cream, grey and white. The horses passed so close on either side that Tia could breathe in their warmth. She felt like a rock in river rapids and hoped with everything in her that this living stream wouldn’t knock them down and trample them.

  As suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

  Tia let go of Tag and watched, expecting to see the horses disappear around the corner. Instead, they’d stopped and were now watching her with bold, intelligent eyes.

  They were eight sturdy-looking animals, not as tall as most horses Tia had seen, but not as small as the ponies she’d fed handfuls of clover to at the summer fair in Winnipeg. The way they held their sculpted heads and curved their necks gave them a regal air. Their manes and forelocks were thick and luxurious. A chocolate-brown horse near the front shook its head, starting a chain reaction in three others.

  After a moment, the herd settled and stood quiet. Their breath, which rose in white puffs, was sweet-scented, reminding Tia of summer fields. With their round bellies and shaggy, double-sided manes, they looked like something out of a storybook. She half expected small men with beards and giant double-sided axes to emerge from the trees.

  Scout gave a small yip and emerged from behind the herd, looking at Tia and wagging his tail. A black and white horse standing slightly off to one side snorted and tapped the ground with a hoof, as if growing impatient, but Tia’s eyes were drawn to the brown horse standing front and centre. It was heavier than the others, wide-bellied with four white stockings and a black mane and tail—except for a white splotch on its mane, which looked as if someone had dropped paint on it. Its eyes were big and soft, and it stared at Tia as if waiting for her to do something. But what?

  “What’s going on?” Tag whispered.

  “They must have got loose from somewhere,” Tia said, glancing back toward where the herd had first appeared. No help from tracks—the snow melted soon after it hit the road. Tia took a breath and made a decision. She stepped forward toward the centre horse.

  “No, Tia, wait! What if it bites?”

  Tia ignored her brother and took another step. Then another. Animals of all kinds had always liked her: cats, dogs, hamsters, even a baby fox she’d found behind the small house in the country they’d lived in for a while two years back. Tia had used baby bottles she’d snuck from the school daycare to nurse it until it was old enough to run away.

  They’d only lived in that house for one spring and summer, just before they’d moved to Winnipeg, but of all the places they’d lived since Tag w
as born, it had been Tia’s favorite. Mama liked it too but decided they couldn’t stay there on account of there being no jobs in the nearby town.

  It’d been hard moving around so much, having to make new friends, but there were always animals around, mostly dogs and cats chasing frisbees in parks or slinking down alleys. It was like they knew her, all the way to the inside of her, and would always stop and say hello. Animals never expected her to be anyone other than exactly who she was.

  Horses, however, she’d only ever seen from a distance and read about in books. Something in her heart opened wide as she took in the ones in front of her, coats glistening, sweat steaming from their backs. After sniffing the air, the chocolate centre horse, which she could now see was a mare, stretched her neck, reaching toward her with her nose.

  Focussing on the brown mare, Tia turned her body so that she looked less threatening. She didn’t know how she knew to do that, but it felt right. If she was facing full on, an animal’s instincts might read that as her being ready to chase—or attack.

  Tia took a calming breath and willed it down though her body all the way to her toes. Removing one mitten, she held out her hand, palm up, fingers spread wide. The horse immediately thrust her nose into it. “I think she’s looking for treats,” Tia said, giggling as the horse licked her palm.

  “What kind of horses are they?” Tag asked.

  “How should I know?”

  “They’re kind of small.”

  The black-and-white horse pawed the ground and snorted.

  Tag jumped. “But in a good way!”

  Another horse, this one the colour of oatmeal with a white stripe down its nose, nudged Tia’s arm, as if jealous for attention. She stroked its shoulder and craned her neck, trying to see beyond the horses. There was a fence tucked up against the trees, just beyond the ditch.

  “I bet if we get them moving back up the road, we’ll find an open gate somewhere,” Tia said.

  “How are we going to do that?” Tag asked, standing straight as a board, hand out for the sniffing horses.

  “I’m not sure.” Tia began gently pushing the mare back up the road the way the herd had come. “Move!” she cried. “Move!”