Running Away With You (Running #3) Read online

  The Running Series: Book Three

  Running Away With You

  By Suzanne Sweeney

  Copyright © 2014 by Suzanne Sweeney

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Suzanne Sweeney

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Suzanne Sweeney

  Visit my website at http://suzannesweeney.wordpress.com/

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: October 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  RUNNING AWAY WITH YOU

  First edition. October 30, 2014.

  Copyright © 2014 Suzanne Sweeney.

  Written by Suzanne Sweeney.

  Also by Suzanne Sweeney

  The Running Series

  Running Back to You

  Running Home to You

  Running Away With You

  Watch for more at Suzanne Sweeney’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Suzanne Sweeney

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Characters

  Playlist

  Mixology

  Language of Flowers

  Further Reading: Running Into His Arms

  Also By Suzanne Sweeney

  About the Author

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the most amazing group of women I know. They are the most devoted group of professionals I have the privilege of calling friends. Every day, they come to work, eager to share their love of learning with the young minds that sit before them one hundred and eighty-two days a year. They listen. They inspire. They teach.

  —-

  To the staff of Veterans Memorial Elementary School, a place that I’ve been fortunate enough to call home for the past fourteen years ... Thank you!

  —-

  P.S. – Thanks for keeping my secret (shhhh!)

  Prologue

  In the Blink of an Eye

  The world stops spinning on its axis. It stops so abruptly that I fall to my knees. Has something happened to the air? My lungs are no longer able to find oxygen. There’s a God-awful ringing in my ears. I imagine this is what it feels like just before someone passes out.

  Immediately, Evan is at my side. “Juliette, look at me. Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

  I focus on his face and take a few deep breaths. Evan helps me to my feet and guides me to the living room, where we all gather around the television to watch and listen.

  The screen shows a map of Alaska with a dark red line beginning in Seward, Alaska. I grab my phone and check my old messages from Auggie. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His shuttle was leaving from Seward.

  Maybe they do more than one shuttle a day. Maybe. I say a silent prayer that they do.

  The red line stops just short of Bear Glacier National Park. There is a yellow burst, labeled, Crash Site. I listen carefully to the newscaster’s voiceover.

  “We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this developing story. The pilot and all six passengers are feared dead after a deadly crash in Alaska earlier today. Their helicopter went down in a park on its way to Bear Glacier, transporting friends and family of a film crew to a remote location. NBC News is on the site with live coverage.”

  No one says a word. We all watch, horrified. Our small group is huddled together, glued to the set.

  A reporter appears, and behind him in the distance is a burning aircraft, with thick black smoke rising ominously. Emergency vehicles are in attendance, with their flashing lights and sirens blaring.

  “This is Harvey Frost. I’ve just arrived at the crash site, and I flew over the horrific scene just an hour ago. The helicopter is still engulfed in flames, sending plumes of black smoke over the wreckage. The only visible part of the aircraft is the tail, which remains in tact a few hundred yards away. Investigators say it's too early to tell what may have caused the crash. As far as the possibility that weather played a role – there was no heavy rain, lightning or other severe weather. That’s all I have for now. Back to you.”

  “Hey, did anyone try calling Auggie?” Emmy asks as they break for commercial. “I mean, we don’t know for sure that he was even on that helicopter.”

  “You’re right, Em. Let’s not jump to any conclusions.” I want to believe that he wasn’t on that helicopter. He’s escaped death before. I need him to do it just one more time. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Not now. And not like this.

  “There could be a million reasons he didn’t call. No cell reception, he caught a later flight and he’s still in the air, he’s been arrested and doesn’t know what happened ... or he could be in the hospital getting prepped for surgery,” Reese suggests.

  “Jail?” Camilla asks.

  “Hospital?” Callie gasps. “How is that better?”

  “It would mean he’s alive. Sick is better than dead.”

  “Emmy is right,” Reese admits.

  “This is ridiculous,” Evan jumps in. “I’ll call.” He dials his number and we all watch, waiting. “Nope. Straight to voicemail,” he tells us as he hangs up and puts the phone back in his pocket.

  Reese has an idea. “Jette, I’ll call Cynthia and you call Christina. Maybe his sisters have heard something.”

  Evan’s mother Jill offers to make a call to Auggie’s mother Nancy.

  Unfortunately, they are all in the dark, every bit as much as we are. None of them have heard from him either.

  The boys watch the television, powerless to do anything to help. Alaska is thousands of miles away, almost halfway around the world from this little chateau at the Jersey Shore.

  Not sure what else can be done, I rejoin Evan on the couch, hoping to learn something that will make me feel better.

  Brian Williams is sitting at the NBC anchor desk. “We're learning more about the victims in today's Alaskan helicopter crash and the company they worked for. Special correspondent Alana Greenfield continues our team coverage from Los Angeles.”

  “Thanks, Brian. I just met with a spokesperson from Studio Six. Production has immediately halted on the highly anticipated film
C.O.P.S., which has been filming in Alaska. Members of the cast and crew had arranged for loved ones to join them on location in the picturesque Bear Glacier National Park. North Star Aviation, a small helicopter tour company, was chartered to transport the small group, a trip the company makes hundreds of times a year without mishap. The names of the passengers are not being released publicly until all the family members have been notified.

  “A North Star Aviation spokesman says the company only hires experienced pilots, and those in the chopper were veterans in their field. This is the first crash for the small, privately owned company, but the latest in a series of crashes in what some are calling Alaska’s crash epidemic. In Alaska, more than thirty-nine mountain ranges with towering peaks and deep gorges can ensnare aviators in sometimes fierce and rapidly changing weather.”

  I can’t watch anymore, so I get up and turn off the television. No one tries to stop me.

  “Juliette, tell me what you want to do. I can’t stand it. I have to do something. Please, tell me what to do.” Evan looks every bit as distraught as I feel.

  “I have to get out of here. I need to be with the Deegans.” I take a deep breath before admitting my darkest fear. “They said they’ve just started contacting the families. I need to be there when the call comes in.”

  Reese corrects me. “Don’t you mean if? If the call comes in.”

  Emmy can’t hold back. “Jette, you need to keep positive. If you put positive energy out into the Universe, it will come back to you.”

  I know she’s right, but the simple fact is that his helicopter has crashed, and no one has heard from him. Auggie would never let us worry like this. Not in a million years.

  I look at Evan. “Let’s go.” Auggie’s parents live just a few blocks away. When we pull up there are other cars there. I recognize them as belonging to his sisters, Cynthia and Christina. I knock on the door and let myself in.

  Nancy wraps her arms around me the moment she sees me. She’s been crying. They’ve all been crying. Christina is weeping in the corner. Her husband is with her, trying in vain to console her.

  “Nancy, why is everyone crying? What happened? Tell me, I can handle it.” I squeeze Evan’s hand, hoping to extract some strength from him.

  “Oh Juliette, why hasn’t he called?” she cries. “James would never leave us to suffer like this. He hasn’t even called Lucas.”

  Cynthia is holding it together, but only barely. “I just got off the phone with Lucas. He’s a mess,” she tells me.

  “Has he heard anything?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she explains. “We didn’t talk long. We both want to keep our phone lines open in case a call comes in.” She looks away and takes a deep, cleansing breath.

  I introduce Evan to the Deegans and they escort us into the kitchen. Nancy is making a pot of coffee. It’s going to be a long night.

  We take a seat around the table and everyone places their phones on the table. Every once in a while, someone checks his or her phone to make sure it’s still turned on and fully charged.

  Evan breaks the painful silence first. “You know, the first time I met Auggie, he threatened me?”

  Everyone’s eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry, Mac, did you just say that my son James threatened you? Physically?” Glenn repeats.

  “I did. Juliette was making us dinner and Auggie pulled me aside and told me that I had better be a straight-up guy with his girl or he would have to kick my ass from here to Timbuktu.” He chuckles as he retells it.

  “I remember that night,” I tell him. “I thought you two were off talking about sports or something.”

  “My brother? Talking about sports?” Christina blurts out. “Doubtful.”

  “He loved you, Juliette,” Nancy answers.

  “Loves. He loves Juliette, Mom,” Christina corrects her.

  All that does is make Nancy and Cynthia cry harder.

  “Hey, Cyn – remember that time when Augs was about eight years old and he was trying to scare us by jumping through one of our sliding glass doors, except that the door was still closed?”

  Cynthia finishes the story. “And instead of leaping through it and surprising us, he slammed into the glass at full force and bounced backward, landing on his ass.”

  Glenn has a story of his own. “Do you girls remember when we signed James up for driving lessons? The instructor told me James was doing really well but that he needed to start stopping sooner when he approached a red light. When I asked James about the lesson, he told me, ‘You're not going to believe this, Dad, but every time I go to stop, the car just stops by itself.’ He didn't realize the instructor was pushing the brake on the passenger side.” We all laugh a little at the thought.

  Evan asks, “Juliette, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story of how you and Auggie first met. Do you remember?”

  “I do,” I tell him. “It was the first day of kindergarten. Auggie was crying because he didn’t want his mother to leave, so the teacher assigned me to be his very special friend. I held his hand and I told him I would stay with him all day until his mother came back. He stopped crying. Just like that.” A few tears fall from the corners of my eyes, so I grab a tissue to dab them away. “Some years I held his hand. Other years, he held mine.”

  We cry and reminisce for the next few hours. I hear family stories I’ve never heard before.

  Glenn tells tales of trying to get Auggie to play baseball or soccer in elementary school, then finally giving up and letting him take piano lessons.

  Nancy shares her fondest memories of shopping with Auggie. How they spent hours together in the mall and he helped her choose curtains, pillows, and pictures for the walls.

  But my favorite stories come from his twin sisters. For the first time, they tell us how they used to play dress-up with Auggie when Nancy wasn’t around. They put him in tutus and princess gowns and convinced him to have tea parties with them. I doubt they had to try very hard. Nancy had no idea.

  When the house phone rings, everyone freezes, stock still. Nancy jumps from her seat and rushes to answer it. We are all on the edges of our seats, listening carefully. “No, Dolores, I haven’t heard anything yet. Listen, I have to go. I have to keep the line open.”

  I look at Cynthia. “Mom’s sister, Aunt Dolores,” she explains.

  I nod. Everyone is worried. Not just our little group. I think about Reese and wonder what she’s doing. I wonder if anyone is comforting her right now. Derek is there with her. Surely he’s keeping close.

  I send her a text just to let her know we’re still in the dark. Maybe no news is good news. I can’t help but think that if he were on the passenger list, the authorities would most likely have called by now.

  Right?

  Or are these the stories we’re going to be telling at his memorial service?

  Silence once again takes over as Nancy walks around, refilling coffee mugs. Everyone is thinking the same thing I am. I can see it in their eyes. The more time passes, the less likely it is we’re going to hear from him.

  If Auggie were here, I could just picture him Googling the statistics on all sorts of things. How likely it is to survive a helicopter crash; how long it takes to notify family of an accident; causes of helicopter crashes in Alaska. He would have his iPad in his hand and he would be working hard to find some sort of factual information he could share to make everyone feel a little more hopeful.

  But he’s not here.

  Again, the house phone rings, but this time Glenn gets up to answer it. We all take a deep breath and wait to hear something. Anything.

  Glenn’s jaw drops and he says nothing. Not a word.

  “Dad?” Cynthia asks. “Who is it?”

  He hands the phone to his wife. “Nancy, it’s your son, and he wants to talk to you.”

  Chapter One

  Live to Tell the Tale

  Three months later...

  There are no other cars on the road as we drive north. It’s early, several hours before the sun
will rise. Despite the darkness, I can see the fullness of the autumn trees that line the parkway. The full moon is still visible, hanging low as it descends beneath the tree line and out of sight. “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.” There is a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “All I can tell you is that we will be crossing off number twelve from my bucket list today.”

  It has been three months since surviving the house fire that nearly claimed my life. Once a month, we celebrate Alive Day, and it’s a day I have come to cherish. Last month, I planned a trip to the Bronx Zoo. It was my turn to pick a bucket list activity, and I selected number seventeen – ride a camel. Of course, when I wrote it, I imagined an exotic trip to a faraway land, perhaps recreating the scenes from the Sex and the City movie where Carrie and the girls take an extravagant trip to Abu Dhabi. But the sensible part of me thought better of it, and instead I settled for the Bronx.

  I look around as we drive farther north, and I’m stumped. I thought that perhaps we were heading toward Manhattan to see the sunrise from atop the new One World Trade Center or maybe ring the bell to open the New York Stock Exchange, but we’re moving away from the coast and toward the Delaware Water Gap.

  My mind races with the possibilities. I’m a beach girl and I’ve never been to this part of New Jersey before. I know this area is the perfect spot for tubing, rafting, kayaking, and canoeing, but since it’s November, I eliminate those as likely options. Of course, there’s a chance that he’s planned a daylong hike along the Appalachian Trail. But then I remind myself that today is about our bucket lists, and I know it’s got to be something on a much bigger scale.

  My stomach begins to rumble rather loudly, reminding me that I’ve been awake for several hours but we haven’t eaten a thing. “Well, whatever you have planned, I hope it includes breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all taken care of.”

  I look around and we’re in the middle of farm country – nothing but trees and cultivated farmland for miles and miles. The navigation system tells us to make the next turn, but all I see is a one-lane dirt path. It in no way qualifies as a road in my book, but we obediently execute the directions called out to us by the confident and knowledgeable voice.