Don't Be Afraid

by C. A. Harms

  Don’t Be Afraid

  C. A. Harms

  To all those who have loved and lost, the life you’ve built will live on in your heart forever. As well as the hearts of those you’ve touched.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  I. Part Two

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  THANK YOU

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by C. A. Harms

  Copyright @ 2018 C.A. Harms All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, storied in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. If you should do so, legal action may be taken to protect the author and their work

  Prologue

  Sawyer

  The first time I saw Patrick, all it took was one smile and I knew he would be my everything.

  I was nineteen and he was older by five years and could have had his pick of anyone, but he chose me. But it wasn’t the “sweep you off your feet,” “happily ever after” kind of love. We had rough times, but we always came out the other end stronger.

  Now here we sat, side by side, his hand in mine as I stared ahead at the scan of his abdomen pinned to a lit board. The mass in the center was so prominent that there was no way to miss it. I tried to keep it together, but I was terrified. My chest ached and my throat constricted more and more with each breath. My hands shook uncontrollably, but I ignored the fear. I had to.

  “Head up, beautiful.” I looked over at Patrick. Those exhausted dark circles under his eyes only made the blue irises seem even bluer. I wanted to touch his handsome face, but I was frozen with fear. “We’ll get through this,” he assured me, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

  Unable to speak, I offered a nod, a forced smile, and a gentle squeeze of his hand.

  The sound of the door to the small office opening had me jerk in surprise as my heart raced even faster. I’d lost track of how long we’d sat there with only our thoughts and our worries to keep us company.

  Patrick and I watched as Dr. Sheppard walked around the side of his desk and took a seat in the leather chair behind it. The silence was deafening and did nothing to ease my mind.

  The doctor’s chest rose and fell a few times before he spoke, as if he, too, felt the anxiety and devastation of what he was about to share. “I’m so sorry, I wish I had better news.” He looked across his desk at us with a solemn expression. “It’s spread, Patrick, and not just to your liver.”

  “Okay, so….” Patrick’s words lay heavy in the air as we waited for the doctor to proceed. When Patrick hung his head and took a deep calming breath, I knew what I’d hoped was a road ahead was actually a dead end. The racing fear and the deep ache inside me grew so strong that I knew I couldn’t control them. I was falling apart.

  “Isn’t there a treatment of some kind?” Patrick sounded like he was struggling to keep a lid on his panic. “Something I can do? Anything?” He slid forward, staring at the doctor with hope, though he shook with what I’m sure was the same anxiety I felt.

  The defeated look in Dr. Sheppard’s eyes said it all. “Pancreatic cancer is typically diagnosed in the advanced stages. At that point, treatment isn’t available. Those symptoms you’ve been experiencing, the weight loss, abdominal pain, even the slight yellowing of your skin, are all advance signs. If you look at this”—he turned in his chair and pointed to the scan behind him—”your tumor is already a significant size. I truly wish there was something more we could do.”

  None of us spoke for a long time. Millions of things ran through my mind, paralyzing me with sadness and fear. Imagining a life without Patrick in it was like imagining a life without daylight. Agony like I had never felt before shot through me and breathing evenly was suddenly impossible.

  “You have to fight.” I spun in my seat to face my husband, gripping the arm of the chair so tight, my fingers ached. The fear in his eyes gutted me. Patrick had always been the strong one. He’d been the one to hold me up when I needed it. I couldn’t process having our roles reversed. It all seemed so surreal.

  “Patrick,” I said in a tone that demanded his attention. When he finally looked directly at me, his eyes were glossy. I feel as if someone had set fire to my chest and the flames were consuming me. “You have to fight,” I repeated in a hoarse whisper.

  “Fight what, Sawyer?” He moved his hands out before him, fisting them and then releasing before gripping the arms of his own chair. “Please tell me, because maybe you heard something I didn’t.” His throat bobbed and his eyes closed tightly for a brief second and his lips pressed firmly together as he tried to fight his emotions. “What I heard was that I have no chance. What’s to fight? Tell me, damn it, what’s to fight?”

  “I’m pregnant,” I cried, tears rolling along my cheeks uncontrollably.

  My heart shattered as his anger faded and he went limp. He leaned back, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

  I slid from my chair and knelt before him. Placing one hand on both of his knees, I could barely speak clearly, but I gave it my best. “You have to fight, Patrick. You have to.” I couldn’t accept him not being here. I wouldn’t. The idea that there was nothing left to do wasn’t acceptable. “Fight for me and for our baby. You have to. We need you.” I laid my head in his lap, repeating those words over and over as I broke. “We need you.”

  We were supposed to do this together. Raise a family, love one another until we were old and gray. That had always been our plan.

  Any amount of control I had left vanished the second his fingers combed through my hair and he whispered, “I’m sorry,” just before his own sobs filled the room.

  Chapter 1

  We drove in silence, our hands joined on the center console. Talking seemed pointless now, but I think we both desperately needed the connection.

  The man I love, my best friend and the father of my unborn child, had only a short time left to live. I felt as if this were all my fault. Should I have seen that something was wrong? Noticed a change in him that would trigger concern? It was my job to take care of him and I failed.

  The cancer had metastasized, meaning it had passed through his bloodstream and spread to his liver and stomach. This left little hope that Patrick would live to see the birth of our child. Each time I allowed myself to think that far ahead, panic rose inside me al
l over again.

  The doctor suggested that we try chemotherapy to reduce pain, which may allow him to also maintain nutrition, but the side effects would be brutal. Patrick had also declined the option to receive an abdominal port for drug treatment. It was difficult to hear my husband insist on living out the remainder of his life as God intended, not weakened or destroyed by the side effects chemo or other drug treatments would inflict. As we left the doctor’s office, my mind kept screaming, Why?, and I couldn’t help but be angry that he wouldn’t even try.

  I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be told that there was something that would give him more time. I wanted to hear that this was all just a huge mistake and he’d still be here when our child had their first birthday, or even on their first day of school. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I just couldn’t accept that I’d soon be living without the man who in my eyes hung the moon. Patrick made everything brighter. He gave me hope at times when I thought all hope was lost. He was my rock, and without him at my side, the foundation for my life was crumbling beneath me.

  “I think we should take a trip.”

  He slowed the car as we approached the gravel drive that led to our home, and I looked over at him as he slowly made the turn onto it. I expected to see sadness in his eyes but was met with a smile instead.

  “Anywhere you wanna go. Hawaii, Jamaica, you name it.”

  When he placed the vehicle in Park, I turned in the seat to face him. “You need to rest,” I stated, feeling as if it was something he should already know. “You need to take it easy, and taking a trip isn’t getting rest.”

  “I don’t want to rest.”

  “That’s the problem, you never do,” I snapped. It was wrong but I couldn’t control my anger. “You always overdo it. You overworked yourself into an early grave. Why didn’t you pay closer attention to the signs, Patrick, why?” He remained silent as if he knew I needed this outburst. “Maybe if you’d paid attention, they could have caught it sooner. But instead you kept working and ignored everything.”

  When he still said nothing, I reached for the handle and opened the door, practically falling out of his truck. The stupid thing was so big, I’d misjudged the distance to the ground. Damn thing was completely ridiculous.

  The sound of his door slamming shut only enhanced my need to flee. I needed space. I needed to run off somewhere where I could pretend this wasn’t happening.

  “Sawyer, wait,” Patrick hollered and instantly I stopped, my knees weakening as exhaustion finally hit me. I turned and stared back at him, my world shattering around me, and no matter how hard I cried, not matter how angry I got, it wouldn’t change what our future held.

  “Why?” I cried, unable to stop myself. “Nothing about any of this is fair.”

  Patrick closed the distance between us and brushed his fingers along my cheek. As if I hadn’t already felt defeated, that simple touch shook me to my core. Those touches were now limited, just as everything else was between us. Our kisses, our laughter, the way he held me close at night as if he was protecting me from all the evil in the world, it was all now a simple countdown to the end.

  I would live every moment from now until then wondering if it would be his last. How could I not? I’d never felt so empty. Patrick always made sure I knew how special I was to him each day. Now here I was, trying to imagine what life would be like without all the things from him that I treasured most.

  “I won’t get through this,” I whispered as I closed my eyes, unable to look at the pain in his gaze. I was weak, I’ll admit it. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t wake up every day knowing you’re not by my side.”

  “You can.” I shook my head and rested my cheek over his heart. The gentle rap of the steady beat somehow gave me a small sliver of peace. “Our child will need you.”

  My heart broke all over again at his words. “I’m not strong enough,” I whispered, fisting his shirt, unable to let him go.

  “You’re wrong.” I closed my eyes with every intention of arguing with him, but he continued before I could speak. “You always say it’s my strength that bonds us, and I’ve never argued with you. But now I’m going to, because, Sawyer, it’s you, baby. It’s always been you. Your light, your kindness, and your determination are what never let us fail. I know those things are gonna hold you together through this too. I know it’ll be hard, but you’ll make it.”

  I couldn’t speak. My throat was so raw and my chest ached with such an immense amount of emotion that I couldn’t remember ever feeling so depleted.

  “I need you to promise me something.”

  “Don’t,” I said through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare make me promise things to you like you’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “But this is something I need from you now.” When I only curled into him, accepting the comfort he offered when he wrapped me in his arms, he continued. “I need you to promise me that we’ll live the time we have left together without reservations. Promise me that we’ll live it fully, no complaining, no lecturing. Just give me this time to love you and love every moment with you without pause.”

  My tears fell so heavy, his shirt became damp beneath my cheeks.

  “I don’t want to live the days I have left as if they are my last. Instead, I want to create so many memories that it’ll be impossible for you to forget me.”

  “Don’t say that,” I demanded, finally lifting my head to look up at him. “I’ll never forget you.”

  He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips before resting his forehead to mine. “Promise me.”

  A moment of silence passed, and I wanted to say yes more than anything, but the hurt and sadness lying heavy on my heart made it impossible to speak.

  “Today we’ll fall apart,” Patrick assured me. “Today we’ll blame God, we’ll hate our fate, we’ll yell, cuss, and scream. We’ll be angry and sad. Today we’ll do all that.” I nodded because I could do that. In fact, I already was. “But tomorrow, we live.”

  The idea of living felt almost impossible to face right now, though. Living meant we were one day closer to the day he’d no longer be here. I didn’t want to live, damn it. I wanted to freeze time and keep him, right here, right now, forever.

  “Tomorrow we live,” I whispered, even though the words felt like acid. I knew he needed them, but they broke me even more.

  Chapter 2

  I was spent, yet I still couldn’t give in to my body’s desire to sleep. Closing my eyes meant missing time with him, and I couldn’t do that. Even though he was curled toward me in bed, a soft snore falling from his lips, I still couldn’t let go.

  Today we’d cried more tears than I think either of us ever had, and shared the news with those we love. I sat there while Perry and Luann, Patrick’s parents, sobbed and held their son, wishing for a different outcome. I accepted their hugs and gave them in return, though their attempts at comfort still left me feeling empty. The news of our baby was something I had chosen to hold back for now, but Patrick used the joy of our pregnancy as a way to bring happiness to a sad situation.

  I wanted to be joyful, truly I did, and I’m sure one day I will be, but today I just couldn’t. Today the only thing my pregnancy reminded me of was that Patrick wouldn’t be here to raise our child with me.

  Through the darkness I could see the gentle curve of his nose and the strong line of his jaw, and I wanted so badly to touch him, but I refrained. I didn’t want my touch to wake him. I knew had he been awake, he would only attempt to lure me to sleep, and I couldn’t. Too many things were running around in my mind. So instead, I kept perfectly still, counted his breaths, and smiled when each snore was followed by that weird little gurgling noise I used to get so annoyed by. It was strange how the things that once drove me insane about him were the things I treasured now.

  He always used to say that one day I’d miss his snoring, and I would, of course, tell him I wouldn’t. God, how wrong I was. I would miss everything about him, the good, the bad, and the annoying.
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  I’d promised to live tomorrow, and I dreaded keeping that promise. It would be one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I felt like we were living on borrowed time, like I was watching the sand fall through the hourglass and another piece of my soul was fading away with each grain.

  My mind slowly drifted back to the day we met, when this man managed to knock me on my ass with a simple smile and a hello. Thinking of it still gave me goose bumps.

  I walked across the parking lot toward the diner and stumbled when I saw a man climbing out of a big blue truck. He had long legs, and a narrow waist that V’d up toward a fit chest that strained against his red T-shirt.

  When he looked in my direction, heat rose to my cheeks as I realized he’d noticed me staring. I fully expected him to dismiss me as just another goggle-eyed girl, but instead he offered a smile that only made me blush harder. He was gorgeous, and I was floored that he was staring back at me.

  “Hello.” He fisted his keys in his hand and took a step toward me.

  “Hi.” That simple word took so much effort. I felt like I had been tackled and all the air had been knocked out of me.

  “We could both stand here all morning and stare at one another”—his grin widened as he tilted his head slightly and looked me over from head to toe—”but from the looks of it, you’re on your way to work, and I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of me.”