Through The Water
Fairest Series Book Two
Shannon Myers
Contents
Also by Shannon Myers
Author’s Note
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
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Afterword
PREVIEW OF THROUGH THE WOODS
Though The Water Playlist
Dream Cast
Acknowledgments
Also by Shannon Myers
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Shannon Myers
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to- being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Models: Robert Kelly & Tionna Petramalo
Photographer: Jeanne Woodfin
Design by: The Final Wrap
First Printing: 2020
Paperback ISBN- 978-1-7332748-5-2
Created with Vellum
Also by Shannon Myers
From This Day Forward Duet
(David & Elizabeth’s Story)
From This Day Forward
Forsaking All Others
Standalone Novels
(Travis & Katya’s Story)
You Save Me
Operation Series
(Dakota & Zane’s Story)
Operation Fit-ish
(Kate and Nate’s Story)
Operation Annulment
Silent Phoenix MC Series
(Grey & Celia’s Story)
Deserter (Book One)
Protector (Book Two)
(Mike & Lauren’s Story)
Renegade (Book Three)
Traitor (Book Four)
(Full Cast)
Savior (Book Five)
Fairest Series (Can be read as standalones)
(Charm & Neve’s Story)
Through The Woods
(Killian and Ari’s Story)
Through The Water
Fictioned Series
(Hayden & Jake’s Story)
Protagonized
For those who broke above the surface—the ones who sucked in grateful breaths of air through newly formed lungs, all the while knowing that there is truly nothing sweeter than freedom.
We survived.
Author’s Note
On Saturday, March 16, 2019, I received a phone call that rocked my entire world. When I saw my brother-in-law’s name flashing across the screen, I initially assumed that he’d pocket-dialed me. It was four-fifteen in the morning, after all.
I would later learn that when a person calls enough times within a short period of time, it will override the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature on a phone.
“Shannon…”
His voice broke, and I immediately asked, “What happened?”
It took him several tries to get his breathing under control enough for me to understand that my sister had been involved in an ATV accident and was being life-flighted to Denver.
Even now, if I close my eyes, I can still hear the fear in his words.
Tremors overtook my body, quickly followed by uncontrollable sobbing as I tried to process the news. I had this naïve hope that she’d sit up in the helicopter and demand to be taken home, adamant that there’d been some mistake.
You see, never in a million years did I think anything could shake us. We’d already overcome so much in the eighteen months prior to the accident, forcing ourselves to confront and work through the messy parts of our relationship.
I’d gotten comfortable.
Complacent.
Convinced that we’d become invincible.
I didn’t know it then, but she’d be in a coma for two weeks. It seems like such a short period of time now, but those fourteen days felt like months. I would sit in my office at night, unable to sleep because I was convinced I might miss an update from my brother-in-law.
My stomach was in knots from the first phone call until she woke up. The nurses would call her a medical anomaly because someone whose brain had shifted fifteen millimeters off the midline typically didn’t wake up. They lay in surgical ICU until eventually, they ceased to exist.
The first time I saw her, she’d been off the ventilator for about a week, but had undergone a tracheostomy to help with her breathing. As I looked past the various tubes and wires, I struggled to find traces of the woman who’d been my best friend since I was two and a half.
She was awake, but not.
Physically she was right in front of me, but it felt as if she was a million miles away.
We were encouraged to write in a notebook and to offer her the pen to communicate. It was rare that we called each other by our actual names. Some days, she was Meza and I was Uza, Russian sisters who enjoyed a good bottle of vodka. Other times, we’d simplify things and just refer to one another as Seester.
And don’t even get me started on the conversations where we poorly attempted to nail a British accent while quoting from our favorite movie, Bridget Jones’s Diary.
Keeping with tradition, I took the pen, and wrote:
Seester, I love you!
I didn’t expect much, if anything. She shocked me when she took the pen and immediately replied:
I’ve loved you as well :)
It was the sign I’d waited for, the proof I’d needed that she was still in there.
As she became more alert, the hospital said they were going to be releasing her to Craig Hospital, the absolute best place for brain and spinal cord injuries.
My brother-in-law showed me the brochures and I jokingly said it reminded me of a book I’d tried to write in 2018, but had never completed.
He asked me about it, and I explained the premise as a twist on The Little Mermaid, with a woman recovering from a multitude of injuries she sustained in a car accident and a baseball player with a blown-out knee. They meet in a rehab facility and—well, I don’t want to spoil anything for you.
I told him how I’d gotten stuck and had left it unfinished to work on other projects. We went on to other things, but when he was taking me to the airport later that afternoon, he brought it up again.
“What if the reason you couldn’t finish the story before was because you were supposed to tell your sister’s story? What if that story and hers are one and the same?”
With his blessing, I agreed to tell a fictionalized version of my sister’s accident and during my second trip up, I was able to see f
irst-hand what an average day is like for those recovering from a brain injury.
I consulted informally with the nurses and therapists and took copious amounts of notes, building the world you’re about to enter.
In November, I was able to visit with the author, Laura Kaye after hearing her speak. As she’d also survived a brain injury, I was eager to get her thoughts on recovery. Instead, I was given something even better—a reminder to give grace. Just as I’m not the same woman I was a year ago, I hadn’t realized how unfair it was to expect my sister to be the same as she was before the accident.
Thank you, Laura.
As for Through The Water, the details are written as I remember them occurring, with the exception of a few artistic liberties I took here and there to better fit the story.
For example, Craig is strictly a rehabilitation hospital for those with brain or spinal cord injuries. You wouldn’t find an attractive baseball player recovering from knee surgery there, but you just might at True North. Although, I will add that “Restaurant Night” is an actual event, meant to help patients practice ordering food, self-feeding, and socializing with one another.
In the book, Ariana is unable to speak when she arrives at the rehab facility. In reality, Shayla was speaking by the time she left the hospital to transfer to Craig. Just like Ariana, it was very soft at first and you had to strain to make out what she was trying to communicate. By the time I arrived three weeks later, the raspiness had faded and her voice was growing stronger.
This is a deeply personal story to me and my family. There were days I questioned even telling it at all; but in the end, I felt that it was important to give these characters a voice.
I’ve tried to approach this subject with the utmost respect and reverence for everyone involved. Please know that any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.
My sister’s progress to date is nothing short of a miracle. She’s home with her family and is gradually rediscovering her passions, as well as picking up a few new ones. Just like Ari, she clawed her way to the surface and fought to make it back to shore.
Because that is what she is.
A fighter.
* * *
For more information on Craig Hospital, or to make a donation, click here.
“Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.”
The Little Mermaid
-Hans Christian Andersen
Prologue
Ariana, age 9
“Burdens are for shoulders strong enough to carry them.”
-Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
The screen door slammed shut behind me with a reverberating bang, but I kept running. I couldn’t take another second inside that house.
It had been my turn to sit and read to Mama.
Usually, she stared blankly at the wall with a thin line of drool running down her cheek. Every now and then, her eyes would seemingly dance around the room, focusing on my face for a brief second before bouncing off to something else. Grandmother once told me that they were just filled with the joy of God’s love, but Mama never seemed happy when her eyes were like that.
She would cry out and speak to people who weren’t there. It used to frighten me until I discovered she was sick.
I wasn’t supposed to have heard, but I was really good at hiding and just as quiet as a little church mouse. Most of the time, people didn’t even realize I was in the room.
Papa had told Mama she was sick with sin and begged her to repent, but she’d just laid there, moaning loudly. I wasn’t sure how the sin had gotten to her when she never left her bed, but if Papa saw it in her, then it must have been true.
Once he left, she’d cried until the pillowcase beneath her head was soaked with tears before calling out for me and my sisters. Her voice was soft like mine, though, so no one ever came.
The July air was thick with humidity, and without even a hint of a breeze to cool things down, it was like running straight into an oven. My gray linen dress clung to my skin, and each inhale felt like I was trying to breathe underwater.
I ran until I reached the hedges lining the perimeter of our small gated community before dropping to my knees with a wince. Sharp leaves and twigs scraped along the exposed skin on my arms and legs, compressing the old and new bruises lining my sides. Still, I took a deep breath and pushed forward until I was completely hidden from view.
It was the only place I knew I wouldn’t be found. At times, the house felt like a living, breathing thing peering over my shoulder. Like it was studying my every move in anticipation.
Out here, it was silent.
A sanctuary.
And right now, I wanted to stay hidden forever.
Mama hadn’t stayed quiet today.
I hadn’t even gotten through the first chapter before she reached out and grabbed my arm, knocking the book to the hardwood floor. Her grip had been surprisingly firm as she’d yanked me off the chair and into the bed beside her. The sheets were damp with sweat and stunk of sick. Mama’s room always smelled different than the others in the house.
She tucked my back to her chest and wrapped her heated body around mine. While I lay stiffly in her arms, I tried to recall whether she’d ever held me before.
Perhaps when I was a baby, but if so, those memories had faded long ago. As far as I could remember, she’d always been like this.
Sick.
“Ari, my little dove,” she’d whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “I’ve been so naïve…about all of it.”
I’d tilted my head up and watched as she licked her chapped lips, surprised to find that her eyes were bright and focused for the first time in ages. “M-m-mama?”
“Shhhh… I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” The soft cadence of her voice had a mesmerizing effect, lulling my body into a relaxed state.
I’d settled against her with a sigh, feeling her mouth curve up into what might have been a smile against my cheek. That was what had made her next words all the more shocking.
I hadn’t been prepared for them.
“He’s going to kill me,” she’d stated simply. “I’m getting in the way of his dreams. I think… I think that maybe I’ve always been in the way because I know the truth. There’s nothing beyond the wall that doesn’t exist here.”
I’d sucked in a breath but hadn’t said a word. My heart had thumped steadily while my curiosity wrestled with Papa’s teachings.
“And I love him… maybe that’s my biggest sin,” Mama had said, her voice remaining steady and calm. “I’ll always love him, Ari. He was so charismatic—I thought we were gonna change the world together.”
“Y-y-you—you s-still c-can—”
I hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.
“Do you remember when that man came to the gate seeking help? I think you were five—maybe six? He came right in the middle of a tropical storm. The streets were starting to flood, and then, there he was, under one of the lights. You could smell the booze on him from a mile away as he hollered to see Pastor James…” Mama’s words had tapered off, and I’d rolled over, expecting to find her asleep again.
Instead, she was mashing her trembling lips together as if to keep from crying. “The man needed help—at the very least, he needed a place to dry out and sober up. Your daddy turned him away and went back inside.
“I waited until everyone disappeared before slipping out to find him. I handed him an old coat and a sack of—goodness, I don’t even remember what was in it. I just grabbed whatever I could from the fridge and pantry. Do you know what he said to me?”
“W-w-what?” I’d whispered, far too invested to not hear every last detail. Thoughts of life outside our community made the hair on my arms and neck stand tall, yet sparked my curiosity in ways that no other topic could.
Mama’s lips had stretched into a thin smile as she’d brushed the hair back off my forehead. “Told me about how all h
e wanted to do was get back home to his boy and be a good man. Said he must have prayed the right way to be sent an angel. Do you see what’s wrong with that?”
I’d shaken my head, completely puzzled.
“I’m no angel, Ari. But that man mistook my kindness for something otherworldly. And that was when I knew that your daddy didn’t want to help people… not really. He wants to lock himself away behind the walls, turning a blind eye to their suffering. No matter what he tells you, we’re no better than they are, little dove. We’re all the same.”
I’d scooted toward the edge of the bed when Mama closed her eyes, only to be tugged right back. She’d crushed my small body to her chest, making it hard to draw a breath. As I didn’t know the next time she’d be lucid, I let her hold me just as tightly as she wanted.
“Need you to promise me something, Ari,” Mama had whispered urgently before cupping my cheek with her palm. “Promise me that when you’re old enough, you’ll get out. You and your sisters will run and never come back here.”
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