Broken Dreams, page 1
Cover image Figure Skates © Evgenii Parilov / Alamy Stock Photo, and Cracked Ice © Myshkovsky / iStockPhoto
Cover design copyright © 2021 by Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.
American Fork, Utah
Copyright © 2021 by Traci Hunter Abramson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect
the position of Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.
First Printing: November 2021
978-1-52441-967-7
For John, Melodee, and Sarah Garvin
Thank you for being the family of my heart
Acknowledgments
This story was one I didn’t expect to write, but I’m so grateful for the many people who helped make it possible. Thank you to Sian Bessey for always encouraging me, even when I think I’m going to take some time off of writing. Thank you to Lara Abramson and Mandy Biesinger for helping me polish this manuscript, and thanks to Paige Edwards, Ellie Whitney, and Kyla Beecroft for providing feedback.
As always, thank you to the amazing people at Covenant Communications for supporting me in this career I love, especially my incredible editor, Samantha Millburn, and marketing extraordinaire Amy Parker.
Thank you also to my family for sharing me with my fictional worlds and to the readers, who make this career possible. Truly, you have my gratitude for your support.
Chapter
One
Alexandria, Virginia
February 1980
Maggie Alexander sat beside her mother’s hospital bed, the familiar sensation of hope and despair competing inside her. For nearly a year, cancer had eaten away at her mom’s body, and within these walls, the doctors had done everything possible to help her conquer the disease.
In the bed across the wide treatment room, six-year-old Johnny Patterson waved. Maggie waved back and offered him a smile. Despite the IV in his arm, the boy always had a book in one hand and his favorite toy fire engine in the other. More than once over Christmas break, Maggie had read to him when his mom had needed to talk to his doctor. Those few interactions had confirmed Maggie’s decision to major in elementary education. Only two and a half more years of school and she could move back home so she could be closer to her parents.
Her eyes swept over the treatment area: black-and-white linoleum floors scented with disinfectant, three hospital beds on either side, curtains hanging between each treatment station. Most of the curtains were open to allow patients to connect with one another as their bodies were infused with chemicals that were supposed to make them better but often made them worse.
Maggie focused on the single empty bed and asked, “Where is Mr. Dodson?”
Her mom’s lips pressed together before she strained to answer. “He didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry.” The man hadn’t been much older than her mom, maybe late forties. Maggie’s hands tightened on the arms of her chair. Tears threatened as the uncertainty of her mom’s recovery washed over her. Maggie blinked the tears back. It wouldn’t do to let her mom see her cry.
Beside her, her mom moaned and clenched the covers. Maggie stood and patted her hand, a hand that was much frailer than it had been only six weeks ago when Maggie had been home last.
“I’m right here, Mom.” The oddity that she was the one comforting her mother instead of the other way around struck her. A prayer swelled within her that someday soon her mother would regain her strength and that finally this awful disease would become part of their past.
Her mother turned her hand over and squeezed with a viselike grip. Maggie ignored the pain. It was nothing compared to what her mother was currently enduring. Sometimes she wasn’t sure which was worse, the disease or the side effects from the treatments. Watching her mother struggle against both had been a constant battle for both Maggie and her dad.
How her father had juggled taking care of her mom while also coaching bordered on miraculous. Early-morning practices, afternoon practices, running home to check on his wife in between the two. Surely, if he could keep up with juggling so many responsibilities, Maggie would find a way to handle things for the next seven days. After all, her father and his skaters had worked for years to make the Olympics. Now that his athletes had achieved that goal, it was the least Maggie could do to give her dad the chance to see them compete. To hear her father talk, when they returned from Lake Placid, his skaters would be bringing home the gold.
Maggie glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. Only another half hour until her mom’s next dose of pain medicine. Thirty minutes of agony until her mother could once again find a little relief.
Maggie read the same page of her physics textbook three times before she pushed it aside. Her professors at the University of Pennsylvania had sent notes and assignments home with her for the time she would miss this week, but learning from a textbook wasn’t working. At least, it wasn’t working when all she could think about was how difficult it had been for her mom to simply put one foot in front of the other as they’d walked back into the house this morning.
Maggie scooted back from the kitchen table to go check on her. She was halfway across the kitchen when a heavy thump reverberated on the floor. Maggie rushed into the living room, where her mom lay on the shag carpet, her blonde hair curtaining her face.
“Mom!” Maggie rushed to her side and brushed the hair from her face. “What happened?”
Her mom moaned softly, and then her eyes fluttered closed, her blonde lashes dark against her ashen skin.
“Mom? Can you hear me?” Maggie shook her mother’s shoulder gently, but she didn’t stir. Since her dad was already on his way to the airport and she couldn’t get her mom into the car by herself, Maggie reached for the phone on the end table. She punched in 9-1-1, each number accompanied by an irritatingly cheery musical beep.
The operator came on the line, and Maggie quickly explained the situation. An ambulance was dispatched along with the promise that help would arrive soon. Maggie studied her mother’s still body and prayed the offered help would be enough to bring her mom back to her.
Gordon Alexander gripped the handle of his suitcase, his star athletes at his side. For more than two decades, he had waited for this moment. Coaching Olympic champions wasn’t quite the same as standing on the podium himself, but he hoped it would be a close second.
He’d had his own chance once. For the past twenty-four years, he had carried the anguish of that loss, certain nothing could be more devastating. That was, until last March when Irene had received the news that she had cancer. He still couldn’t say the word without a bitter taste forming on his tongue.
“Do you think the Soviets will put any triples in their program?” Andrew asked.
They would, but Gordon focused on his own skater and Andrew’s annoying tendency to worry about everyone else instead of himself. “Don’t worry about the Soviets. Focus on your own skating.”
An announcement came over the loudspeaker, and a new ripple of excitement pulsed through him. “That’s us. You two ready?”
A combination of eagerness and excitement appeared on both young faces. “We’re ready,” Nicole said.
“Good.” Gordon waved to encompass the airport terminal. “Take a good look around because when you come through here again, you’ll be wearing Olympic medals.”
“Gold medals,” Andrew countered.
“I’ve trained you well.” Gordon retrieved their airline tickets from the inside pocket of his suit coat.
Rapid footsteps approached. Someone was running late. Gordon had seen to it that they would avoid any such issues. He had taken every possible precaution to prepare for this day. Their entire schedule, from the moment they landed to each warmup session to the awards ceremony, had been planned out.
They were ready. Nothing could go wrong.
“Dad!”
Gordon heard a woman shout but didn’t respond. His daughter wasn’t here at the airport. She had arrived yesterday from college to stay with Irene while he was away.
“Dad!” the call repeated in a more familiar voice. He started to turn, but before he could completely, the woman said his name. “Gordon Alexander!”
Gordon turned and spotted his daughter. Panic and a sense of dread surfaced together. “Maggie, what are you doing here?”
She didn’t speak until she reached him, and tears glistened in her eyes. “It’s Mom.”
“What . . . ?” A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard. “She’s not . . . ?”
“She collapsed shortly after you left. The doctor said it won’t be long before . . .” A tear spilled over.
Someone in line nudged him forward.
“Sir, your ticket please.” The gate attendant held out her hand. When Gordon didn’t respond, she repeated, “Sir? Your ticket?”
“Gordon, I’m sorry,” Nicole said, “but we have to go.”
Gordon’ s heart ripped in two. His wife or his dreams. The debate took less than a heartbeat. He thrust his suitcase at Andrew. “My training notes are inside, and you have your itineraries.”
“Wait.” Nicole grabbed his arm. “You can’t leave us.”
“We’ve been working for this for years,” Andrew said.
“I’ll call Bob Phillips,” he said, referring to the coach of the pairs team who had just missed making the Olympics. “I’m sure he can take over for me until I can get there.”
“Will you get there?” Nicole asked. “Are you going to come?”
Gordon forced himself to speak the truth. “I don’t know.”
Lance Whitmore set a folding chair in the open space between the couch and the fireplace. Flames crackled behind the metal grate, warming the living room, and the scent of his mom’s famous Bundt cake wafted from the adjoining kitchen to compete with the smell of wood smoke.
In the kitchen, his mother, Alice, arranged paper plates and napkins on the large table that separated the living room and kitchen. When his mom had announced that she was holding a homecoming party for him, he had envisioned a few neighbors and Church members dropping by for a casual meal; however, judging from the amount of food his mother had already made, this wasn’t going to be a quiet affair.
“How many people are you expecting tonight?” Lance asked.
“Around a hundred.”
Lance’s jaw dropped. Had his mother lost her mind while he was away? “Mom, I don’t think our house can hold a hundred people.”
“It’s an open house. They won’t all be here at the same time.” Alice retrieved a serving bowl and a bag of chips from the counter. “Everyone wants to see you. Two years is a long time.”
“I guess.” Before Lance left on his mission, two years had seemed like forever. Now that his time serving the people of Toronto was behind him, he could hardly believe it had been that long.
Then again, he had been gone long enough that he couldn’t seem to shake the habits formed during his time serving: waking early every morning, working out, studying his scriptures. All good habits, but it was time for him to step into real life again. An image of Maggie immediately popped into his mind. His stomach flipflopped at the thought of his funny, compassionate next-door neighbor, the same one who had always had an endless stream of boyfriends during high school.
She had been his best friend for as long as he could remember and had written him diligently during his time away. Now that he was home, he was determined to find out if their friendship could turn into something more. Too bad he would have to wait until she came home for spring break to see her.
The front door opened, and his younger brother Jim walked in carrying two bags of groceries and a stack of mail.
“Is there anything for me?” Lance asked even though he knew acceptance letters to Princeton wouldn’t be mailed out for a few more weeks.
“I don’t think so,” Jim said. “What happened next door? An ambulance pulled up to the Alexanders’ house when I was leaving for the store.”
“It was probably there for Irene,” Alice said.
Irene. As in Maggie’s mom.
“I thought she was getting better,” Lance said.
“I’m afraid she hasn’t been doing well on this latest treatment.” His mom reached for the address book she kept beside the phone. “I’d better let the bishop know.”
Lance circled the table and started toward the door. “I’m going to see if they need anything.”
“No one’s home,” Jim said. “I already checked.”
“Do either of you have Maggie’s number at school?” Lance asked. “We should let her know something’s wrong.”
“She’s already here.” Alice dialed the phone. “She came back to stay with her mom while Gordon is at the Olympics.”
Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Lance’s stomach jumped with anticipation. Maggie was home.
Chapter
Two
Maggie stared blindly out the car window as her father turned off the freeway and continued toward the hospital. She didn’t know how her mother had gone from lying on the couch to collapsed on the floor, unable to move. Nothing had ever terrified Maggie more than hearing the thud in the living room and rushing in to find her mother crumpled on the carpet.
The events of the hour following had blurred together, from the ambulance arriving to the doctor breaking the news.
Her mother’s latest treatment had failed. Rather than help fight the cancer that was taking over her body, it had weakened her immune system. Her mother was dying.
How would Maggie survive the loss? Despair sank to the pit of her stomach, and her bruised heart cracked wide open. Life without her mother was unimaginable. How could this happen?
She glanced at her father, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had turned white. Her mom always told him to wear gloves during the wintertime, but he rarely remembered. Who would remind him once her mother was gone and Maggie was back in school? Would Maggie even be able to finish this semester? It had been hard enough to convince her professors to give her the week off while her father was at the Olympics. How could she possibly keep up if she missed more time?
Her father pulled into the hospital parking lot and found a spot. After a quick stop at the information desk, they rode the elevator to the third floor. They’d made it only a few steps down the hall when the oncologist intercepted them.
“How is she?” her father asked.
“We started her on some new pain medication.” He hesitated briefly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do.”
A tear spilled over onto Maggie’s cheek.
Her father’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t speak for a moment. Finally, he asked, “How long?”
“It could be days; it could be a week or two.” The doctor put his hand on her father’s arm. “I’m sorry. There’s no way to be sure.”
“Can we take her home?”
“I’ll be releasing her within an hour or two. We need to go over her pain-management plan, but she already expressed her desire to return home,” the doctor said.
Her dad swallowed and nodded. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he slid his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Come on, honey. Let’s go see your mom.”
Maggie forced her feet forward even though all she wanted to do was hide. She hated seeing her mother wasting away, listening to her moan in pain when the medicine wore off. Worst of all, she hated wanting her mother’s pain to stop, because that meant her mother would no longer be with her.
Her father’s hand dropped from her shoulders, and he stepped aside to let her go into the room first. Her mom was sleeping. Relief washed over her. If she was sleeping, she wasn’t hurting. At least, she wasn’t hurting as much as usual.
Praying that her mother would remain at peace, Maggie crossed to the far side of the room and took a seat beside the window. She glanced at her dad, who still stood in the doorway. A tear trickled down his cheek, and Maggie’s heart squeezed in her chest. Her dad never cried.
Gordon swiped at the tear that had escaped, grateful Irene hadn’t seen it. He needed to be strong, both for her and for Maggie, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t imagine life without his wife, didn’t want to imagine it.
She was his partner in every sense of the word. They had tasted the excitement of being the top pairs figure skaters in the United States and suffered the defeat of finishing fourth in the Olympics. They had retired from competition to start a family only to struggle with one miscarriage after another.
Medals and disappointments aside, Irene had encouraged him to follow his dreams through coaching. Despite the long hours and the travel, never once had she complained. Instead, she made their house a home, and she had never let him forget that family came first.
Family first. Never had those words been put to a greater test than today. Gordon gathered his courage and walked into his wife’s hospital room.
Irene’s eyes fluttered open, and recognition dawned on her face. She blinked twice as though she weren’t sure he was real.
