Taming the Wind

By David S. Baxter

Claire's life will never be the same. After a horrific car accident takes the lives of her parents and siblings, fifteen-year-old Claire's dreams of becoming a soccer star are dashed, and she finds herself alone and without a home. Forced to move in with her estranged grandparents, Claire feels like her life is being blown by the wind - and she has no idea how to make it stop. This heartbreaking story of one girl's struggle to find meaning in tragedy will draw you in from the very first page. Join Claire as she learns to embrace the winds of change and find love, faith, and hope for the future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedar Fort Publishing & Media
• Release date: Jul 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781462105861

Book preview

1

It Comes Down to This

She ran up to me, her face painted with excitement. It seemed as though I had flown into her high-five gesture, slowing slightly, and hovering three feet above the ground for a moment. I had just scored our third goal—maybe the state championship was within our reach after all.

Thunderbird High had only scored once, and we were almost nearing the end of the second half.

Ten more minutes! Coach shouted as we ran back to our positions, ready for the kick-off.

The Arizona State University stadium was enormous. I glanced over into the stands, scanning quickly through the seats. I stopped and watched with pride as my family stood cheering for me. They were sitting in the front row.

The whistle blew. Brynn and I seemed to gush like liquid in and around the players to get to the ball. Back and forth, the ball was passed, stolen, taken back. Our time was ticking away. All we had to do was keep them from scoring. If they made a goal, it would surge their confidence and hope—pushing them to fight harder.

As I raced toward center field, I felt the tension in the crowd, the way their cheers and screams shifted. My feet were racing beneath me. I could feel the sod catch in my cleats as I came nearer to the ball. Before I knew it, Thunderbird’s best player came from the side. She gained control of the ball before I could get there, and I managed to heave with all my energy toward her new direction. The yards between us diminished as my adrenaline kicked in.

With a determined look on her face, she charged toward our goal, the ball neatly threaded between her feet. Her focus and strength made me doubt for a second, but I noticed speed was my advantage. She was taller, but dribbling the ball had slowed her large paces just enough so that I could inch closer and closer. I heard Rachel, our defender, call out that she was coming—coming to charge the ball and coming right at us. But I was already there, a leap away from touching it.

As I neared her feet, I saw Brynn in my peripheral vision coming from the opposite side, lurching effortlessly, her foot tapping the ball just out of reach from the three of us. I stopped and jerked slightly, pulling my balance and center of gravity back toward the ball.

Rachel approached just in time, still in her sprint. She leaned slightly to accommodate the ball’s new direction and slammed her laces against it. It flew thirty yards down the field. The screams roared across the stadium, and it seemed as if everyone were on their feet, feeling the tension and the inevitable. Thunderbird was down by two goals, and we just had to hold on a bit longer.

I could almost taste the victory—almost rejoice in our painstaking efforts. We’d practiced long and hard for this. This is what our efforts all culminated in. This is what made it all worth it.

A warm evening breeze caught my hair and whipped my ponytail against the back of my neck. It cooled the beads of sweat on my forehead. I breathed in deeply and the oxygen going into my lungs burned the back of my throat. Exhaustion was part of the game. It chiseled at my stamina and slowly peeled away at my adrenaline rush. I was running backward, looking straight up at the ball kicked high into the air. My muscles ached and my feet were starting to feel clumsy.

Go, West View! the fans cheered.

The ball made its descent, but before anyone could make contact with it, the three whistles blew. I dropped to my knees as my teammates piled around me. We screamed ecstatically. The rush was amazing. We did it, and I was on top of the world.

X

After the game, we climbed into our minivan, and I slid onto the middle seat behind Dad on the driver’s side. I reached over to help buckle Jamie in the seat behind me.

He was smiling his perfect smile and said, Awesome game, Claire!

I smiled back and winked a thanks at him. He yawned.

Most of my teammates were riding the bus back. Those whose families came to watch them were lucky enough to be able to drive back with them. I loved away games, but by the end of the season, most of us were happy to see a little less of the inside of a bus.

I peeled my cleats, socks, and shin-guards off. The cool air tickled my shins as I rubbed the sock imprints imbedded in my skin. I slid on my flip-flops and pointed my toes, stretching my calf muscles. Then I leaned my head back.

What a great game, Dad said. I can’t believe you scored two goals by yourself and that you even qualified for the varsity team your sophomore year. We are so proud of you!

He knew as well as I that the 5A schools were super competitive this year, and I had practiced extra hard to make the varsity team.

Mom chimed in, And to think our delicate little Claire could stand grass stains and perspiration on a recurring basis like this.

She had a hint of teasing in her voice, knowing full well that I’d been a tomboy since I could ride my first bike.

What a great season—ending with a state championship game! You really did a fantastic job out there, Mom added, redeeming herself.

Can Brynn spend the night next weekend? I asked. We wanted to celebrate—just two more months before she graduates. What will I do without her next year? She and I make a really good team. Sometimes it seems like we know where each other will be out there, like we can read each other’s minds.

Tommy had a smirk on his face as he said, Yeah, you guys are connected at the hip—like you’re deformed twins or something.

He always tried to push my buttons. And of course, he had to sit right next to me to do it, instead of sitting next to James in the back. But I was so psyched over our win that his banter melted before it could even register with my defenses.

I reached over to thrash his wavy hair and as he grabbed my arm in mid-air I had a shocking thought: my eleven-year-old little brother wouldn’t be little much longer. So much for using my size as the advantage—I’d have to change my retaliation tactics to adjust for his growth.

As I pulled my arm away, he smirked even more, and I noticed the pink in his rosy cheeks flaring slightly redder. Even though I hadn’t internalized his comment, he was still satisfied.

He released my arm, and I smiled as I turned to look out the window next to my left shoulder, letting him know that I wasn’t in the mood to play-fight with him. I was on top of the world. Even Thomas’s rhetoric couldn’t shake me.

I could see across to the opposite side of the four-lane street. The city was dark, and lights danced around the people walking down the sidewalks. The local bars and hangout spots were just starting to get busy. Tempe was a college town, and it showed. The sun was disappearing behind the horizon, and with it the sweltering Arizona heat. I watched half in a daze as my mind wandered.

Dad was driving through the sparse traffic in this unfamiliar city. It felt natural, like any other family road trip, except for my euphoric state of mind.

I’m hungry, Jamie said. He was only four years younger than Thomas, but he was small for his age.

Dad saw some fast food signs and turned onto another unfamiliar street. We weren’t far from the freeway; I remembered getting to the stadium fairly quickly after we exited on the way in, maybe five miles or so. I guessed it would take us a couple of hours to drive home to Tucson, so food was definitely going to satisfy everyone in the car. We’d stock up on food, take a bathroom break, then be home before we knew it; the boys would be asleep by the time we got there.

Mom suggested hamburgers, but the boys both wanted chicken. My vote made the decision. Chicken won. I was hungry for something lighter, something that wouldn’t upset my stomach.

Exhausted, I watched out my window for signs, my eyes wide open and gleaming—an after-effect of our victory. A breeze of satisfaction and pride swooshed through me, and I took a deep breath to savor it. I loved soccer; it was my life, and I had worked hard to get here.

Dad pulled into the right lane, ready to turn into the first chicken place he saw. Suddenly I noticed the activity on the street around us. It seemed very clear, tense, and harsh. The people walking and hanging out looked rigid and focused, though they also seemed sluggish and nonchalant. They passed my line of sight as our car drove by, but my interest shifted.

There were only a few cars around us, and Dad slowed down to stop at the stoplight. A large SUV with dark windows pulled up beside us, and I squinted over my left shoulder with curiosity to try and make out the faces behind the tint. Mom and Dad were discussing which freeway interchange we would take home when Tommy spotted a chicken sign up ahead.

I can smell that fried chicken already, he said as he turned in my direction, rubbing his hands together greedily. His rosy cheeks were still pink with contentment. I knew he wanted me to continue in his banter. His look still tried to convey that he was smarter than I. Dad started pressing down on the gas as the light turned green, and I sniffed at the inviting aroma of food.

I looked out my window to the left, a quick glance, then back to Thomas. I felt I should probably acknowledge his efforts before he got too disappointed. He leaned in closer to me with a silly expression; he always knew how to make me smile. As soon as I started to giggle, I saw his eyes drift over my shoulder, out the window.

His face instantly changed to disbelief and horror. I’d never seen such a shocking display on his baby face as I turned after what seemed like minutes to look out the window—where his gaze had swept to so swiftly.

Dad! he screamed. The shriek was painful and distressing. Just then I saw a small handgun pointed in our direction from the passenger SUV window. The gun was silver, and as I watched the barrel point in our direction, it reminded me of a scene from a movie. The whole world switched to slow motion, and I couldn’t turn or react in any way.

I was frozen in horror, looking at this weapon aimed toward our vehicle, toward my window. The scream startled Dad, and he abruptly pressed down on the gas, jerking all of us backward, but I couldn’t turn away. Then Dad noticed the SUV to his left keeping up steadily and the small handgun sticking out the side.

In agony, he mumbled as the sound of the pounding shot echoed through the car. He gasped and turned to look behind him as the glass of my window shattered.

Look out! I heard Mom scream. I think she was looking out her window.

Within seconds, I was overcome by a bright light that enveloped my body, the car, and the street.

2

Rescue

What was that smell? I knew it well but couldn’t figure out why I was dreaming about it. The fumes permeated the air around me, and I moaned as my consciousness came back.

I felt different. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling—in fact I couldn’t feel a lot of me. And just as I forced myself to slowly open my eyelids, a wave of pain swept over my body. I moaned in confusion as the sting and throbbing increased. It was dark, and I couldn’t figure out where I was.

The panic set in, and my heart started racing. I couldn’t turn my head, but I started to feel a warm drizzle running down my cheek. As my breathing quickened, my chest ached with pressure. My mind was racing. What happened? Why can’t I move? Why so much pain? I questioned frantically, though no words actually escaped my lips.

It was too quiet. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t hear anything and why I couldn’t focus my eyes.

Numbness, burning—and that smell was overwhelming.

I thought a few minutes had passed, with my mind coming and going, as if it had a mind of its own. There was a fuzzy haze surrounding me and through it I could see bright colors: red and then blue and white—but they kept changing.

Why was everything opaque? What was that smell—so familiar yet strange? I wanted to call out. I wanted to escape the pain.

My breathing quickened unwillingly, and I strained to keep my thoughts. My eyelids closed and stung. The tears welled up and overflowed uncontrollably, and my sobbing ached in my chest. A barely audible whimper escaped my mouth as I felt what I thought were fingers touching my arm.

I tried to reach out and plead for help, but my body was not cooperating. My mind was shutting down as if those fingers had pushed a power button. I was turning off; it was out of my control. I was floating away.

X

A new smell—bitter and caustic. The smell left my focus. I could hear something getting louder and louder, some kind of beep.

My head was swimming, and I didn’t even have the strength to open my eyes. My lids were like bricks, shutting out vision and sanity. I could hear muffled sounds, voices maybe. I searched my blank memory for why I couldn’t open my eyes and why I felt so strange. And what was that new smell?

Panic set in, and I could hear the beep increase, almost steadily as my heart started to flutter within my chest. I was scared and confused.

My terror increased as I felt a blanket of claustrophobia holding me down.

No pain. It occurred to me that I felt no pain. I could feel something warm streaking down my face. I could taste the liquid salt draining between my lips and moistening my right ear. I felt the fingers on my arm again and my heart raced even faster.

Where am I? I screamed in my head. Mom! Dad! The muffled voices were louder now, and I tried to shriek in horror.

Just then my eyelid was forced open. A bright, blinding light flashed up and down. Then the other lid.

With all my might I strained to reach for the intruder, strained to open my mouth and scream. And despite my efforts, a small moan was all that surfaced. My head was swimming again, drowning maybe—I couldn’t tell. Though as my body’s power button was pushed to off again, I didn’t seem to care.

X

Sleep was comforting. I didn’t have to think while I slept. And whatever was running through my veins made it hard to think. I didn’t want to think. I could not let myself think of what had happened.

That night of celebration, of hope and elation—that night my left shoulder was pierced by a bullet, and our minivan had crashed into intersection traffic. As my memory returned, I had relived that moment over and over without even wanting to.

And I vividly remember the day when my estranged grandmother sat next to my hospital bed with tears in her eyes. She told me that I was the only one to survive.

And why her? My mother had stopped contact with her when she was pregnant with me—when she married my father. I was never given details, but now she was here, the only one left in my life—the life that lay shattered