Forgetting How to Breathe Read online

  She nodded. It had been back when Tag was in kindergarten. Mama had been working at the corner store and her boss had been really good about letting her have time off when she asked for it. Tia remembered feeling jealous because Mama had never helped with any of her school parties.

  “Mama said I needed to tell ghost stories,” Tag told her, his voice really small.

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “She took me to the graveyard. She said that was the best place to learn ghost stories.”

  Tia felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Why didn’t she remember this?

  “She was acting funny.”

  Tia knew what that meant. It was the code she and Tag always used for when Mama had been drinking.

  “She said she would be right back.”

  Tag started crying again, but when Tia reached for him, again, he pushed her away. She waited, but he just sat there, pushing stones around in the dirt. Finally, she asked, “Did she come back?”

  “She left me there.” He sounded angry. “She left me there until really late and I was really cold and I heard things that were really creepy, but I couldn’t leave because she said she would come back. I didn’t want her to think I was lost.” He stood and started walking back toward the lodge.

  She grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him. “Tag—”

  He looked tired. “Tia, I love Mama, I do, and I feel so bad because I like it here.” He started crying again. “I’m sorry.”

  Tia’s head was spinning. She wanted to tell Tag that he wasn’t remembering things right, but she couldn’t. She knew what Mama could be like sometimes. And hearing Tag’s story, she finally understood his fear of cemeteries. She couldn’t really blame her brother for wanting a nice, ordinary place to stay, a place without loud parties or a mama who would suddenly get angry and yell for no reason. That had happened sometimes too.

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Tag,” Tia said. With Mama gone, it was up to her to make sure everything was okay and that it would stay that way. “I’m not going to wreck things.”

  “Do you promise?” He held her eyes, unblinking.

  Tia nodded. “Yes.”

  “Show me your hands and say it.”

  She showed him that she wasn’t making the fib-cross with her fingers. “I promise. Now come on, let’s get back.”

  After a long moment, Tag nodded, walking with her back to the main house. In the dining room, Bob and the twins were seated at one of the four large tables working on a wooden puzzle. Cathy was chatting and sipping tea at another table with the new guests.

  “There they are!” Bob said, smiling as Tia and Tag entered. “Who’s up for ginger cake before bed?”

  After their snack, Tia cleared the dishes. She was halfway done before she realized she’d done it without even being ordered. Not that Cathy ever ordered, exactly. Tia swooped her hands through soapy water, listening to the bustle as everyone pitched in, wiping the counter and putting things away. Well, everyone except the twins, who had been tucked into bed.

  Once everyone was settled for the night, Tia slipped back into the computer nook to send emails.

  Dear Madam or Sir, she wrote, remembering her letter-writing etiquette from school. I am writing to inquire two things. 1) Who owns your hotel? 2) If the owner’s name is Richard, can you please have him contact me?

  She cut and pasted the same note for each hotel with an email address. The phone calls would take longer, but at least she’d done something, which was infinitely better than nothing.

  Tia pushed herself back from the computer, yawning.

  On her way to her room, she spotted a homemade card on the oak bookcase. It was made of red construction paper and had little heart stickers all over the cover. Inside, there were three words drawn in spidery letters with green and blue crayon: Mom, Daye, and Summer.

  Tia set the card back on the shelf, glancing at the photo albums lined up neatly behind. Curious, she pulled one out. It was the kind of album people dressed up with fabric on the cover and lace trim. From the teddy-bear pattern, Tia guessed that inside she would find baby pictures. She did.

  Warmth spread through her. She smiled as she flipped through photos from Daye and Summer as newborns, faces red and puffy, to the twins propped in their onesies in corners of a big armchair, to them being strapped in duel-seat strollers. In nearly every photo, they sported huge, open-mouthed smiles as identical as their outfits. Tia wondered at what point Cathy had started dressing the girls differently from each other. Maybe it had been their choice. How old does a kid need to be to decide they don’t agree with everything their mother does?

  How old had Tia been?

  Tia glanced over her shoulder, suddenly awash with a feeling that she had done something wrong. She hadn’t. It wasn’t like she’d snooped through drawers. The photo albums were in plain sight for anyone to look at.

  With a sigh, Tia returned the album. Then she picked up the handmade card again and flipped it over. No birthday mentioned and Mother’s Day wasn’t until next month.

  Tia swallowed a lump in her throat and set the card back in its place.

  Chapter Nine

  Though it wasn’t easy, for two weeks Tia had stuck to her word and only went to the barn Tuesday and Friday evenings. But oh, Sunday! That was her favourite day, as she could spend the whole length of it at the shelter, which also meant more time with Disa.

  But more time meant deeper attachment, and a whole lot more worry.

  The thumping of her heart was almost painful as she watched Grandpa Bebe examine Disa. If only she’d checked on the mare sooner!

  Finally, he turned away from the horse, moved the straw around in her stall and then looked up at Tia with a smile. “It’s good that you told me she wasn’t eating, Tia, but I think she’s fine.”

  “So it’s not colic?” Tia asked, still feeling fluttery as she leaned against the inside of the stall door. It had shocked her after lunch to find Disa’s feeding bin untouched. She should have gobbled it up hours ago.

  From a favourite horse forum, Tia had learned that colic was an illness that came from food bunching in a horse’s guts, and that it could be deadly. A horse refusing its grain was one of the signs.

  “She’s still drinking plenty of water.” Grandpa Bebe assured her “See? The straw is wet from her pee. Her heart rate and temperature are normal, and she doesn’t look like she’s in any pain.”

  “So why won’t she eat?”

  Grandpa Bebe shrugged. “Not unusual towards the end of a pregnancy, Tia. She’s got a big, ol’ baby in there. I expect she’ll be hungry again once the baby shifts and she can feel the empty spot in her stomach.”

  Disa did look pretty content, especially now that Grandpa Bebe had stopped poking around her belly. Her eyes were half closed and her bottom lip hung down as if she was too tired to hold up the weight of it.

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  Grandpa Bebe stretched, yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Well, I guess I should file some notes.”

  Tia smiled. “Is that code for a nap?”

  He laughed. “Smarty-pants!”

  As Grandpa Bebe closed his office door behind him, Tia looked out the barn window toward the house. She could see Jennifer at the table, her head tilted down. She’d said she liked to do her paperwork there, rather than in the shelter office, because she could look out into the yard.

  It was a short, cosmic gift of time and opportunity.

  Setting her pitchfork down, she started formulating excuses, just in case:

  I needed to call home about … something.

  I needed a tissue.

  With Scout at her heels, Tia jogged from barn to shelter, greeted Raphael’s hello squawk, ensured his cage door was open so he could stretch his wings and legs, then settled herself at the desk. She pulled two loose-leaf
pages of hotel names and phone numbers from her pocket and smoothed them flat beside the telephone. These were the ones remaining after she’d exhausted all those with email addresses. They had to be called, old-style, which took so much more time. Frustrating! She was sure she’d have found Richard by now.

  Carefully, she picked up the phone, put it to her ear, and listened.

  The line was clear.

  Tia pulled a pen from the desk drawer and put a mark beside the first of what looked like a few hundred Winnipeg hotels listed on the phonebook pages. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number.

  “Oh, hello,” she said when someone answered. “I’m looking for a phone number for Richard … no, not a guest, he owns it.” As she spoke, doubt wiggled in. Had Richard been teasing her about owning a hotel? Two weeks of negative responses were wearing on her faith. “Or maybe he works there … okay, I understand.”

  It didn’t take long to learn that hotels wouldn’t give out private information about employees, never mind owners. Maybe that was why hardly any had answered her emails.

  After three calls, Tia had grown more confident with her approach. “Hello, I’d like the phone number for Richard who works at your hotel. I’m his niece, and there’s been a family emergency.”

  Eight calls later, Tia had found one Richard, but he’d not been in. When the receptionist asked if Tia would like to leave a number, she refused and said she would call back later. If Richard called the barn when she wasn’t there, there would be questions.

  Tia glanced at the clock. She’d been calling hotels for twenty minutes and would now have finish her remaining chores in double-time.

  She’d just finished tucking the cats and dogs in for the evening, when Jennifer opened the door to the shelter office and stuck her head inside. “Come on up to the house, Tia,” she said. “I’ve been baking.”

  Tia’s belly rumbled at the memory of Jennifer’s Ostas-something cheese-buns. It was an invitation she couldn’t resist. A few minutes later, settled at the kitchen table, she saw it wasn’t buns that Jennifer had been baking, but a crazy-looking cake with more flat, thin layers than Tia could count.

  “It’s called a Vinarterta,” Jennifer said.

  “Is that Icelandic too? Icelandic horses, Icelandic cake, is everything in Iceland short?”

  Jennifer laughed. “Even the trees. There is an old Icelandic saying that if you get lost in the woods in Iceland, you need only to stand up.”

  “Funny.”

  “But actually, no one is completely sure where the cake came from. Some say it came from Iceland with our first settlers, others say it was created here, and some people even say it came from somewhere else entirely.”

  “Foster cake.”

  “Pardon?”

  Tia shrugged. “Just making a joke. Dumb, I guess.”

  “Oh, I …” Jennifer looked embarrassed. “I guess moving around is pretty hard on you guys.”

  “It hasn’t been great. I’ve never been any place like here, though. Thanks for giving me this job.”

  “We’re glad to have you, Tia. You do good work.”

  She looked again at the cake. “I’ve never seen anyone bake stuff like you.”

  “My Grandma Gudny taught me her recipes before she passed, plus I worked for a long time at a bakery in town. I don’t actually bake that much anymore. You’ve just caught me on a couple of lucky days. Want some milk with it?”

  “Please!”

  As Jennifer sliced the cake, she felt a glimmer of guilt for sneaking use of the phone. She knew that Jennifer and Grandpa Bebe probably wouldn’t mind. But they might tell Cathy and Bob and then Tag might find out. She didn’t want her brother to think she was jeopardizing anything, especially after promising him she wouldn’t.

  What would Mama think? Sure, she had her problems, but Mama had always insisted on honesty from her kids. The line between honest and dishonest was becoming fuzzy for Tia. Mama wouldn’t like that. But she’d also taught Tia about putting family first.

  Last summer, money had been particularly tight, so tight that Mama decided to sell the special locket Daddy had given her before he died. Luckily, Tia had a few dollars saved from babysitting and she insisted Mama use that instead. Mama had cried. She explained to Tia that she hadn’t wanted to give up the necklace, but that it was her job to look after Tia and Tag. She said sometimes that meant doing things you never thought you would.

  “Here’s your foster cake,” Jennifer teased, setting a slice in front of her along with a glass of milk.

  Tia grinned. “You have to admit, it’s easier to remember than that other name you said.”

  “Vinarterta.” Jennifer smiled. “You may be right.”

  As Jennifer sat, Tia noticed a necklace fall from between the folds of her shirt collar. “I like your necklace.”

  Jennifer touched her fingers to it, smiling softly. “Thanks. It was my grandmother’s.”

  “My dad gave my mom a necklace kind of like that. I was just thinking about it.”

  “I bet it was special to her.”

  Tia felt her blood rise. She jabbed at the cake and smashed it with the back of her fork.

  Jennifer frowned. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

  “Yes.” Tia took a breath. “You said was special. Like she’s not coming back.”

  “Oh … I’m so sorry, Tia. I didn’t mean that at all.”

  “It just bugs me so much, you know?” she said, her voice choking. “Everyone is so sorry and so concerned, but no one is doing anything to find her.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Yes, it’s true!” Tia exploded. “You’re concerned, the police are concerned, Cathy is concerned …” She felt her face getting hot. Why was she so angry? It wasn’t Jennifer’s fault. She knew that. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “It’s okay,” Jennifer said. Her voice was gentle. “I think the cake got the worst of it.”

  Tia glanced down at her plate. Sure enough, it was thoroughly destroyed. She made a face. “Fosters always do.”

  “Tia!”

  “I’m sorry. Another dumb joke.”

  Jennifer looked at Tia with eyes full of sympathy, but somehow it didn’t bug her as much as it usually did. “You know, you shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t … oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Let’s look at this differently. You see that cake?”

  She glanced down at her plate.

  “Okay, maybe not that piece. Look at the big cake. See those layers?”

  Tia nodded.

  “The cookie layers are soft and pretty unremarkable all on their own. But then you add this filling made up of sticky prunes and wonderful spices, and the cake becomes something beautiful and strong. No one knows for sure where the cake came from, but that doesn’t even matter. It is special because of all that goes into it.”

  Tia sat back. “I get what you are saying.”

  “Good!” she said. Now how about we go for a ride?”

  Tia looked up. “You mean on a horse?”

  Jennifer grinned. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Well since you are working here, don’t you think you should learn?”

  As Jennifer cleared away the cake, Tia focussed on collecting herself. Riding! Wow.

  And then she saw it. Peeking out from beneath a stack of envelopes near Jennifer’s laptop. A credit card. Tia’s breath caught in her chest. She tried to fight the thought that came to her, to block it, but it pushed through.

  A credit card meant money. A credit card could buy travel and a place to stay in Winnipeg. A credit card would fix everything.

  “Ready?” Jennifer asked.

  Tia blushed and nodded.

  Having a bad thought didn’t mean anything. People had bad thoughts
all the time. It was what you did with them—or didn’t do—that mattered.

  Tia followed Jennifer to the barn, where they selected saddles and bridles and carried them out to the paddock. In no time, Dinni and Garri were side by side, saddled and ready.

  “Go ahead,” Jennifer said, holding Dinni by the bridle. “Climb on.”

  Tia put her left foot in the left stirrup and, just as she’d seen on TV and in movies, swung her right foot over. The saddle was hard and she felt very high up.

  “You good?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yeah!” she said, a little bit awed.

  Jennifer handed Tia the reins, adjusted her stirrups and climbed onto Garri. Side by side, they walked around the edge of the paddock. After a few laps, Jennifer led Tia to the edge and began riding Garri in circles over open ground. Dinni must have been getting bored, as she tossed her head and began to trot. Tia felt herself sliding sideways, despite the smooth gait. “Whoooah,” she said, straightening herself and leaning back. Dinni stopped.

  “Good job!” Jennifer called. She’d drawn close again while Tia had been otherwise occupied.

  Tia beamed.

  “Want to try that again? If you’re ready.”

  She nodded. With Jennifer’s guidance, she learned how to keep her seat and move from a walk to that strange running-walk called a tolt that Icelandic horses could do.

  Afterward, she groomed both horses and then checked in on Disa one last time before heading home.

  Home. When had she started to think of the lodge that way?

  Chapter Ten

  “Come on, Tia, you’ll enjoy yourself. We all will!” Cathy said as she spread big goops of egg salad onto slices of whole wheat bread. She wrapped the sandwiches in plastic and placed them in a large, orange cooler bag. “Plus, it’s for a very good cause. We get to have fun and the hospital gets much-needed new beds.”

  Tia took a fluffy, blue bath towel from a large wicker basket and folded it neatly onto the growing stack on the kitchen table. “I’d rather go to the ranch.”

  Riding Dinni had been wonderful, but that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to be there. She loved everything about working there, caring for the animals, making them feel happy and safe. And then there was Disa. She loved that sweet mare so much and wanted to check on her, to see how she was doing.