Forget Cinderella (True Loves Fairytale Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Acknowledgements

  About the author

  All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced or transmitted by any means by photocopying, electronic, or recording without prior written permission by Tracey L. Champion

  Published by: Tracey Champion

  Cover designed by : Cover to Cover Designs

  Front cover art by: Rachel Feller

  Formatted by: Tracey Champion

  Edited by: Amy Donnelly

  Copyright © 2015 Tracey Champion

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13:

  To the people in my life that chose not to walk behind me, chose not to walk in front of me, but those that made a promise to walk beside me. Their courage and motivation is what drove me to write this book. A promise to be there with me till the end.

  Prologue

  I never expected this would be how my story ended.

  At the age of eighteen I thought I was trying to take life easy, you know, enter adulthood having fun. Then I was hit with a case of reality, being an adult is a lot of hard work. Nothing I did led to this or changed in my life. I just began to lose people. Then after three years, I found myself alone.

  When I turned twenty-one, I did not expect anything. I wanted something. I wanted what any red-blooded girl wanted. To be loved. My only friends were my coworkers and even then, I didn’t call them my friends. Then I met her. Amber became my friend, and everything fell into place.

  Through her, I found more people I could call friends, more people than I ever imagined to add to my life. I even met him.

  Oh. My. God. I met him. Jordan. Jordan was a dream.

  I wanted what every little girl wanted at the age of five. To become Cinderella. To have a Fairy Godmother to solve my problems and it seemed like that may have come true for me.

  However, I quickly learned, there is no such thing as a Fairy Godmother. When things in life get hard, there is no one who magically comes to the rescue to fix the torn dress or everything that goes wrong in life, as I see it.

  There is also no such thing as Prince Charming. He may come close to whatever you want as a perfect man, but no one is perfect. We were not made to be perfect. I wanted him, and he wanted me. The whole time we spent working to find what made us happy together, and it came at a price each step of the way. Something we both had to work for, love. Its not easy, but if you fight for it then you might be lucky enough to keep it.

  I wanted so much to be happy and keep what we had.

  Then as the story goes she only had until midnight. Cinderella spent a small fraction of time with her Prince. Time to feel like a Princess, beautiful and admired, and as the clock strikes midnight and the first bell tolls, her happiness dies, and the magic starts to fall away.

  Whatever magic I had, if you want to call it magic, disappeared too.

  Only each turning point up to the clock striking midnight came with more trouble than I anticipated. One drama turned into the next. No matter what happened I was never going to keep my happiness, and there was always someone there to take it away. The only difference between Cinderella and me was the matter of a beautiful shoe.

  I didn’t have a beautiful glass slipper to lose for my Prince, Jordan, to find. He doesn’t have a glass slipper to help him when I disappear. And how was I supposed to know Jordan would become my dream, my world? Upon meeting him, my fate was in his hands. Because love just finds a way and fairytale or nor, love found its way to us. One thing has led to another, and now…now, I don’t know how this fairytale will end. Jordan has no glass slipper, nothing to lead him to me, and I’m so scared he may never find me.

  It’s interesting how a fictional story works. It can imitate life and how our lives play out. Cinderella got a beautiful happily ever after. I want that. More than anything I want that. I want the happiness that she found and got to keep. The only problem is this was not how I expected my story to end.

  Yes, as I’ve mentioned, I am here because of the events that played out when I turned twenty-one. I found love and happiness. I found Jordan. I did not find the evil man standing in front of me, Travis. I wanted nothing to do with him. He found me. Travis now holds the ending of my story in the palm of his hand.

  My only hope is that Jordan finds that imaginary glass slipper that leads him to save the day.

  Or is this really the end?

  CHAPTER ONE

  January 15, 2006

  Cara is 12 years old

  I could start this the old fashion way. ‘Once upon a time’…but we are far beyond the typical fairytale. What is a fairy tale? Ask a little girl and she will tell you Cinderella, Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. They’re all stories about a handsome prince who rescues the girl, and they live happily ever after.

  Yeah, right. We live in the real world.

  I am about to turn thirteen, and I cannot wait. Momma says this is a big birthday and that she has special plans for us. Every year is a big birthday. I always spend it with Momma. I was her special Valentine’s Day baby.

  I remember when I was five-years-old and Momma calling for me.

  “Cara Mia.” I hear her calling me.

  She is not going to be happy with me. I am wearing my pretty pink birthday dress, and I forgot my shoes. I hate shoes. I know I’m about to be in kindergarten soon and I have to like them, but I won’t. Why do we have to wear shoes? They hurt my feet.

  I see Momma watching me dance in the grass. I like where we live, I can play outside all the time. Well, not all the time. Sometimes it’s too hot outside, but right now I can play outside and dance.

  “Cara Mia, where are your shoes? I have to take a picture of you in your dress.” Momma says looking right at me. She’s smiling and trying not to laugh. She knew I would not be wearing my shoes. I know Momma, and she has them nearby.

  “Momma, I don’t like those shoes, I hate them.” Before I can stop the words from coming out, I know I am in trouble for saying the word hate.

  “Cara, how can you hate your shoes? Can they feel that you hate them? Did they do something wrong to you?” She is trying to glare at me and is looking into my eyes, but she’s still smiling and trying hard not to laugh. This is Momma trying to be bossy to me, but it doesn’t work because she’s laughing.

  “Momma, why are you smiling? And no, my shoes cannot feel me hate them. They did nothing wrong to me.” She hands me my shoes. I give in and put on the pretty white sandals. They c
over my toes, and I like that Momma painted them pink, but now you can’t see them.

  “My beautiful, happy, hippie, Princess Cara Mia, what am I going to do with you? You know every year we have to take pretty pictures of you. Then after we have our princess dance party, and we eat cake.”

  Yep that is Momma. Serious one minute and playful the next. She is my entire world.

  “Cara…My sweet Cara, where are you?” Momma is calling for me. She has been too tired lately to come upstairs to get me. I can only hear her because I leave my door open now. I don’t understand what is wrong with Momma. She tells me she’s okay, and I have to believe her. I think I have to believe her. I wish she would tell me if something were wrong.

  I head down the stairs to her. We are going to talk about the plans for my birthday. Ever since I turned ten, we have planned the event together. I like these times because we always have so much fun. I see Momma coughing again. As I look at her, she does not look like my Momma. I know that she is, but she looks pale and thinner.

  If you were to ask me to describe her, I could paint you the prettiest picture. Think of a woman with long, dark brown, curly hair, big brown eyes, and tan skin with a pink tone to it. Momma says I got lucky to look like her except for the gift my daddy gave me, my blue-gray eyes. She is fit because we exercise and dance together. Momma says doctors are for when you can’t get better on your own. Staying healthy and eating right keeps the doctors away.

  Now don’t freak out. We both go once a year for a regular checkup, and I have had all my shots. Momma says these are needed because sometimes it’s better to prevent the bad stuff from coming back than ignoring it. I don’t understand what she means. All I know is she is never wrong, and she would never hurt me. I do know I cannot argue with her, or I get a good talking to and she is good at being right.

  This past year, though, Momma has been to the doctor a lot. She tells me it’s the normal stuff and that they need to check her. Since Thanksgiving, she has stopped going though. She told me that she was going to be okay. I hope so. We have a lot of birthdays to plan out.

  “Cara Mia, what shall we do for your birthday this year?” Is she kidding me? She knows I have a book full of ideas. I have even written down all my past birthday plans, this way we do not repeat anything.

  “Momma, can we go to Flagstaff and have dinner there? I want to see some snow. Oh, this year do you think I can see my dad?” I know the answer to my question about my dad and I know it’s a stretch to drive up to Flagstaff, but we could spend the whole day together. Have a big road trip. Get to see the stars. A boy in my class said they spent a weekend in Flagstaff and they could see the stars clearly. You really cannot see the stars that well here with all the lights near the base. We live near an Air Force base in Tucson, which is really no help on the lights.

  “Cara, I think a trip to Flagstaff might be possible. It may have to be after your birthday, sweetie. I have a few jobs to finish first. Will that be okay?” Momma is a photographer. She taught herself. I love that about her. She does these jobs and on the weekends I get to go with her and help out. I know I will have to wait for my party, but her working is more important if I want to have my party. Then I listen to her let out a sigh.

  “Cara Mia, I don’t know how better to tell you about your father. I want you to meet him one day, but not now. He has a family, and I was a bump in his life when things got rough. Trust me when I say that things are better if it’s just us honey.” I try not to cry. I just want to know if he loves me.

  “Okay, Momma. You know it’s cool, I get it about my dad, and I don’t mind going with you to work. I like going with you to help.”

  Momma goes into the kitchen to make us some dinner. I know she’s walking away, so I won’t see her. She cannot hide the fact that I can hear her coughing in the kitchen. She doesn’t want me to worry about her. It’s not a child’s job to worry about their parent until they are an adult. I do not ever want to be an adult. I like being here with Momma.

  After dinner the phone rings. Momma is in the kitchen cleaning up, so I go to answer the call. When I say hello I know it’s Wendy. She tells me she wants to talk to Momma. Wendy is her best friend. One day I hope to have a friend like Wendy. The kids in my school are not the nicest. They think that I’m weird. I think they are the odd ones.

  Who wants to follow the popular clothing, popular hairstyles, popular everything? They all seem to act the same way. I don’t like it. I want to be just me and have my own style and my own way of thinking. That’s why Wendy is the perfect example of a best friend. She likes my Momma just because she is herself.

  I tell Momma it’s Wendy, and she looks at me with this strange look.

  “Cara, why don’t you go up to your room?” I don’t know why I have to leave, but I don’t want to make her mad. I have never really seen her mad at me, but this seems important. I’m okay to go to my room. I have a book to read and music to listen to. Momma got me the Kelly Clarkson CD ‘Breakaway’. I love listening to the song ‘Walk Away’. I grab my Twilight book. I’m not sure if I’m going to like this book, but I like to read and I wanted to read something different.

  As I head up the stairs with my book, I can hear Momma talking. From what I can understand she’s upset. They are talking about the hospital. I think I heard her say something about the hospital. Why would Momma say something about the hospital? She has never needed to go to the hospital, and I don’t know why she would need to go.

  I spend the next two hours listening to my music and decide it’s about time to go to bed. I need to tell Momma goodnight. I walk out of my bedroom and notice that the house is already dark. I flip the hall light on so I don’t fall on the stairs. Momma’s room is to the right of the stairs, and I notice her light is on. I tap on her door and hear nothing, so I walk in. I notice that she has fallen asleep, and I tuck her in bed. When I kiss her cheek, she feels a little warm to me. I make sure to place a glass of water beside her bed, turn off her light and head back to my room.

  As I walk to my room, I think more about Momma. She’s my entire world, and I look up to her. I don’t understand what’s wrong with her, but I do know that I would be lost without her.

  I think nothing more of Momma, but I don’t fall asleep like I usually do. Something seems to be off and I don’t know what it is. I almost feel afraid to close my eyes. This is something I’ve never felt before. I was never afraid of the dark because Momma told me that the scary things kids talk about is all in our imagination. There are also scary things that people in Hollywood create from their imagination, but they’re not real either.

  My stomach feels like it’s in a knot. I don’t like the feeling, and my chest is cold. I decided to do what Momma told me to do if I cannot sleep. I count my breaths like she taught me. She told me to count one breath in, one breath out. This helped me a lot when I’ve been too scared to sleep.

  I woke to my alarm clock. It was Saturday, and normally Momma wakes me up before my alarm. This is not normal because we always have something to do and need to be up and ready to do it. Whether it’s her work, or going to the flea market, or my favorite, which is to drive into Phoenix. There is always something to do on Saturdays.

  I decided to pull my long, dark, unruly, curly hair into a bun. This is safe for my messy hair. Otherwise, it’s all over the place. Trust me I can scare myself with my own hair. I think sometimes I look like Medusa the Goddess that had snakes for hair, scary.

  As I open my bedroom door I don’t hear the sounds of Momma making breakfast, and it’s past 8:30 am. I walk down the stairs and into her room to find her still sleeping. I know she will be upset if I don’t wake her up, so I walk slowly over to her where she’s sleeping.

  “Momma,” I call out to her, but she does not move. She’s a light sleeper and normally just opening the door would have woken her up. I place my hand on her and give her a little shake.

  “Momma wake up.” She still doesn’t open her eyes, and I start to panic. Why wo
n’t she wake up? I touch her face, and she’s really hot and sticky. “Momma, please wake up,” I say as tears burn down my face. She still does not move, and I scream “MOMMA!”

  I don’t remember walking away from her. I don’t even remember dialing Wendy. I remember sitting next to her on the bed as the ambulance arrived. Two men came in and tried to wake Momma up. Wendy was next, and she ran into the room with Tom behind her. I don’t remember them telling me they have to take Momma to the hospital. I don’t even remember Tom picking me up and putting me in their car and driving us there. I remember seeing Wendy crying and then we were at the hospital waiting to hear word from the doctors.

  All I knew was she didn’t wake up. My Momma just would not wake up for me. She always wakes up for me, why did Momma not wake up for me?

  CHAPTER TWO

  I cried waiting to hear something from the doctors or even a nurse.

  Wendy was the person the doctors talked to. They tried not to say anything around me or say anything that I could hear. Wendy mentioned to them about Momma going to the doctors. She said something was wrong with her immune system, and they were running tests to find out what it was. I don’t remember all the big words they spoke, it was like an alien language to me.

  I finally stopped crying and pacing the waiting room to get both the doctor’s and Wendy’s attention.

  “I want to see Momma.” They both looked at me with sad expressions. The doctor’s face was full of remorse. It’s something I will always remember. If I close my eyes I can still see that expression and I hate to see that face. I don’t ever want someone to show me that face ever again. The feelings that washed over me because of it felt wrong. Nothing could be terribly wrong with Momma, this can be fixed. The hospital can help her.

  Wendy walked over to me, and I took a small step back. No! I don’t want her to come close to me. I want to see Momma. Why won’t they let me see her? Wendy realized I wasn’t letting her close to me and she looked over at her boyfriend Tom.