Between Breaths

By Lisa Mary Erler

Mark's wife has been gone for seven and a half years, but he still clings to his love for her. His life shattered when his little one died, and since he's focused his energies on raising their six children. Each night a lonely bed greets him. He's left with no one to hold.

One more time Mark goes through his wife's journals to live their married life over again. He encounters their struggles and joys in the pages. Their love for each other is what dreams are made of and saying goodbye to her will be the hardest thing he will ever have to do.

Mark misses the touch of a woman, but is he able to let go of his wife to love again? Mark must make the biggest decision of his life. Will he be able to let go of yesterday to embrace today? Is he ready to embrace another?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Mary Erler
• Release date: Feb 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215743782

Lisa Mary Erler

When I was a teenager I had two primary dreams. I wanted to write and publish novels that readers would enjoy and find meaning in, and I wanted to be married with four children—two boys and two girls (in that order). I wanted to stay home and not have them go to babysitters like I had to.I met my husband the second week of my freshman year. I fell instantly into like when I met him and knew we’d be kindred spirits. As our friendship progressed over six months, I fell in love. We were engaged a few months after we started dating. We married two years later.For my degree I chose English Literature with a minor in technical writing. I chose technical writing because I thought it would be a practical way to have a career as a writer. I didn’t think I was any good at writing fiction, and I wasn’t. I had no “grand” idea. I was a fair poetry writer. I loved writing about literature, and I enjoyed technical writing. I sort of planned on that being my career when I finished college, but I lived perpetually in the moment.We married the summer before our senior year. The first five months of our married life was incredibly romantic. We were students, so we were poor. We lived in a small one-bedroom studio apartment. We had no air conditioning, so the summer nights were quite hot and humid in Wisconsin.Our car didn’t work, so we biked and walked everywhere. On summer evenings my husband loved to watch spiders spinning webs. He would stand their fascinated by the intricate patterns. I stood there fascinated with him. For groceries, we pulled a rickety wagon. We found coupons on campus for free two-liters of pop. Every day we redeemed these coupons for a bit more than a month. We had a lot of free pop to drink, which is kind of funny because neither of us are all that into pop. We would bike to a bakery for day-old bread.The November after our wedding, we became pregnant with my oldest son. I was sick for months. I made it through finals and then through another semester of class. Living perpetually in the moment helped me adjust to the fact I would be an at-home mom and wouldn’t start a career as a technical writer. I was thrilled! But being so young as a mom I was ill-prepared to meet the demands of an infant.I fulfilled one-fourth of my dream. #1My husband thought I needed more education. He thought English was a degree in the obvious and that I’d never get a decent paying job with only that as a degree. He pushed me into going to the U of M Twin Cities for a BA in computer science. It didn’t make my heart “sing”, but I did fairly well in my coursework. Baby #2 arrived at the end of my second year—another boy! I was one-half done with a dream. I was able to be a full time mom and a part time student for two more years.I graduated with the BA in computer science. My husband agreed that I should be home with the boys longer, so I didn’t get a job. Living perpetually in the moment led to baby #3—a girl! Of course, I had to stay home with her like I stayed home with the boys. I was now three-fourths done with my dream!And then it came time to make my writing dreams come true. When my little girl was two, I started writing novels. It was both difficult and easy. The ideas flowed one after another and the first book—In Time came out of me in a couple months. The difficult part was balancing being an at-home mom and writing. The story-line that took me over twenty years to finalize was birthed in those first few months.Still balancing writing and motherhood, I had baby #4—another girl!I stayed home with my children for twenty years, determined to be my kids’ mom. It was tough, yet rewarding, and if I had a choice, I’d do it all over again.While I raised my children I wrote several novels. I reworked and reworked novels, trying to find the best way to tell the stories I had envisioned.The era of being an at-home mom ended. I received a masters in Computer Science, and now I work as a Business Analyst for my professional career.I still write but not nearly as much as I used to.I still live perpetually in the moment and probably always will. I’ve found that unplanned moments are precious. Trying to “control” life has never worked for me. I live in a world of the “unexpected”, free to just enjoy life as it goes.

Book preview

Book Three of In Between

By Lisa Mary Erler

Copyright 2021 Lisa Mary Marquette

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Corporations, places, and characters depicted herein are imaginary and for entertainment purposes only. Any similarity to real companies, places, or people is coincidental.

Acknowledgements

Thank you, my dear husband, Matthew, for saying, Writers write. They make the time, and for saying years later, You need to build something for yourself besides this home and our children. Where do you want to be in ten years when Elisabeth is eighteen? Thank you for your encouragement to chase after my dreams.

Thank you, God, for laying Mark and Kristine on my heart. They have been worthy characters to write about. I hope many women enjoy this story about a stay-at-home mom. Not many books detail the life of a mom, and I hope I made the story entertaining to readers as much as I was entertained.

Part One

Present Day

July 1994

"Mark, you have to let me go. You’ve forgotten how to live. It’s time, darling, to embrace another, to embrace today."

Sleep left Mark in an instant. His eyes swept open, and they scanned around the room illuminated by the full moon through his window. He glanced at the clock and noted it was twelve-o-clock. He had only been sleeping for an hour.

The clarity of the dream swam in his mind, and with an ache he pictured his wife as she had been in it—chocolate eyes, long brown hair, and a smile that lit up his world. His memory slid back, and he saw her the way she appeared the first time his eyes found hers. No matter how Kristine changed as their lives moved together he never let go of the innocent perfection she was on that first morning.

Mark stared up at the ceiling, knowing sleep would evade him. The ache of loneliness pressed into him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep to find her in his dreams again—his wife, lover, and best friend. She had been gone for seven and a half years, but the hurt of loss never truly left him. It would lift from time to time, but then it would settle back in his bones.

I still love you, Kristine. How would I ever be able to let you go?

He heard her melodic voice in his mind as he had in his dream just minutes before, You’ve forgotten how to live, my darling. It is time for you to live. Embrace today. Embrace another.

Tears collected in his eyes. Little one, I miss you. How do I let you go? he whispered into the night.

He heard his wife’s voice, Embrace another. Embrace today.

Tears fell down his cheeks, and all at once the clarity of the vision of her vanished. He thought about what it had said. Could he love again? Could he embrace another? What did it mean to embrace today?

I love you, Kristine, but could I love another?

Mark’s eyes turned to the glow of the full moon. He wrapped his love for his wife around him, and he remembered her last words to him. I love you, my darling. Live. A few hours later she faded away.

Mark remembered the desolation he felt as he held her lifeless body. With every breath he took, he wanted her to live again. He did not know how he could ever go on, but he had children who needed him.

His twins were only ten months old at the time of his wife’s passing. They wouldn’t know their mother. They would never feel her love or the pleasure they had given her. Kristine so wanted them. Mark hadn’t been prepared to add any more children to the four they already had. Now, Mark saw these two precious daughters were another link to Kristine. They were now seven-years-old. They were such beautiful girls with their midnight black hair and eyes more brilliant blue than his.

His oldest, Christopher, would be going into his junior year at the University of Minnesota as a Computer Science student. Gabe would be starting his first year at Concordia. He wanted to be a minister like his father. Gabe was a son after his own heart. Mark’s daughter, Emily, would be starting her junior year in high school, and John would be a sophomore.

Mark’s children were growing quickly. He gave them the best of himself. Besides his faith, his children were his priorities. He did his best to give them the love they needed, knowing the void of a mother’s love would affect their lives in countless ways.

Softly, he whispered, I miss you, little one.

In his mind he heard her voice again, I know, but it’s time to let me go.

A few more tears escaped as he stared at his ceiling. What he wouldn’t give to hold her. She was only thirty-five when she died. She left him with six children to bring up. It wasn’t easy, but he was doing his best.

Again, he heard her voice in his mind, Embrace today. Embrace another.

Mark knew who he needed to embrace—Jasmine. He marveled at her friendship and that he could care about someone even in his grief. She was a woman quick with smiles, and she laughed at his jokes. When he was with her, he didn’t feel as alone, but he wondered if he allowed his feelings for her to grow would it betray the memory of his wife. He loved his wife with passion. She had been his life from the first moment he saw her until she slipped out of this life.

He pictured the face of his friend, Jasmine. Her brown eyes were like amber jewels. Her long, brown hair framed her lovely face. Each time he saw her he thought her more beautiful than the last. She had a laugh that bubbled from her. He enjoyed her company. Jasmine had a difficult life having to support her daughter on a waitress’s income. She often had trouble making ends meet. Besides his wife, Jasmine was the bravest woman he had ever known.

He met Jasmine a year before Kristine died. Most times when Mark and his long-time friends, Alex Holmes and Daniel Matthews, met for lunch at the same café once every two weeks she was the waitress. He noticed she was attractive and friendly, but that was all the deeper it went. After Kristine died, Mark had been lost and lonely, and one incredibly early morning Jasmine was leaving the café as he was arriving. She said hello to him.

Mark felt haggard from grief, and he knew he looked like hell. When she asked him how he was, he told her as they stood in the entryway. After that they grew friendlier. She began going to his church, and their girls met in youth group. Jasmine was his dear friend now, but could she mean more to him than she did? Could he embrace another? Could he embrace her? Could he let go and live again?

Mark brushed the tears out of his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath. The ache clenched at his heart, but then the tight band eased. In a broken voice, Mark said, You’re right, little one. It’s time I let you go, but I wish to God I didn’t have to. You should be here beside me. You should be here for me to hold. Life has been empty since you’ve been gone.

Mark closed his eyes and remembered his life with Kristine. He relived moments with her again. He thought about her on the Christmas morning before the twins were born. She was hugely pregnant and wearing the over-sized bathrobe he bought her the year before. He had never been a good judge of size. He avoided clothes shopping as much as he could.

Mark smiled a little. What would his wife think about his even poorer dressing now? His daughter often commented on his holey jeans and wearing the same sweatshirt or t-shirt for weeks on end. Mark never cared about what he wore, much to the frustration of his wife. She always threatened to change the top of the pile, but she never did.

His mind fell back to his memory of that Christmas morning. She wouldn’t let him take a picture of her while the kids were opening their gifts. How he wished right now he had a picture of her in that moment. She looked so cute with her hair messed up from sleep. She looked so sleepy and disheveled it amused him. She didn’t let him take pictures of her in moments when she didn’t look her best, but looking her best or not didn’t matter to Mark. He loved her, and what she looked like to him was a beauty that daily stole his breath.

Mark missed Kristine’s smile. He missed her laugh and even her temper. He loved the way he felt with her in any moment, because she made him feel alive. He hadn’t been like a walking dead person pressing through life when she was with him. No matter how he tried for his kids, the ever present grief held him. He strove on for their sake even when he wanted to simply stop.

He missed the dynamic person of his wife. He imagined her playing piano for him. In all the years of their marriage he never tired of hearing her play. Oh, little one, how I wish you’d come back, but you can’t. I need to let you go. I need to live not just for the kids and my friends but for me too. I don’t know how, but I need to.

He thought about the journals he read to her as she lay dying. In the last seven and a half years he did not read them again, but now he thought it was time he did. He needed to read about their life together, and then he would let her go.

Mark got up out of bed, and by the light of the moon he found his robe lying on the chair. He made his way to the window. He looked out at the moon. Kristine loved that the moon shown through their window. She would lay in his arms and admire it. Her fingers would run over the skin of his chest, and she would rest her head over his heart to listen to his heartbeat. As she caressed him, he often drifted to sleep feeling encased in happiness.

Mark leaned his head against the window pain and closed his eyes. He pictured her face—not as it had been when she was sick, but as it had been on their wedding night. The deepest caverns of his heart were laid bare as he held her, and she didn’t reject him. Her love surrounded him, and he never before felt as free.

Marked brushed away more tears. Oh, little one, come back. Even for a moment. Come back.

Then he heard her voice again, Let me go, Mark. Embrace today. Embrace another.

He crossed the room and turned on the light. He went to his closet, opened it, picked up the box containing his wife’s journals, and carried it to his dresser. After reading these journals to Kristine he put them away in order. He never intended to read them again, because he thought it would be too painful.

But now? He needed to read her words again. He wanted to live their life over.

Standing by the dresser, he took out the first one. He smiled at the childish handwriting. He thumbed through it and then set it aside. He picked out the next one and read snippets of her life as a teenager. A grin tugged at his lips as he read about the first time she saw him and how she believed God spoke to her that he was the one. He fingered through the entries on their innocent romance. He placed that one on top of the others. He picked out the next ones that contained her entries on their engagement years. He read just bits and pieces from each of them before he set them aside as well.

His hand touched the first journal she kept on their years as a married couple. He opened it and caressed the page containing the neat, cursive handwriting. The ache of missing her crippled him again. He had to breathe through the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut as more tears fell. After a moment, he brushed them off his cheeks. He sucked in another breath and willed himself to find peace. Silently, he asked the Lord to help him through.

He set the first journal she kept on their married life in the box and then lifted it to carry it downstairs to his living room. He set the box next to his recliner before sitting. He turned on the light next to him, kicked up the footrest, and began to read.

Chapter One

August 9, 1971

Last night with Mark was in a word—wonderful. I can’t believe how incredible he made me feel. I am so glad we waited to experience making love on our wedding night. Mark is so perfect to me.

Last night, Mark shared with me his growing up life. Tears come to my eyes just thinking about it. He was abused as a child. His father told him that he wished Mark had never been born. I can’t imagine the desolation that Mark must have felt. Mark told me about joining a gang when he was a boy. They drank, smoked, stole, and vandalized. In a rumble Mark may have killed someone. He will never know for sure. Mark came home with blood on his hands and clothes. When his father saw him he quickly turned angry and took it out on Mark. Mark fought back and had the satisfaction of seeing his father pass out before he did.

Mark ran away in the middle of a Minnesota winter. He slept in an abandoned train car once the money he stole from his father had been spent. He then stole food. What would his life have been like had John not found him shoplifting, and then out of concern took him into his home? He took a risk by bringing Mark home and giving him a place to live where he would be safe. That kind act changed Mark’s life. Because John cared Mark is the man he is today.

When they discovered Mark couldn’t read Lizzie taught him at home. Under their care, Mark became saved. Mark told me this morning that he ended his relationship with John and Lizzie after he started dating me. He did not want me to know the life he had come from. What do these good people feel, Lord? Do they miss Mark? I am certain that they do.

I have suggested to Mark that we repair their relationship. I would like them to be present at our wedding ceremony. It is time, Lord, that Mark fully faces his past. I pray for him, Lord, with all my heart, and I thank you that Mark confided in me last night. I have waited more than two years to hear Mark’s story.

I am so thankful to be married to such a man as Mark. He is my love. I didn’t know I would love him so much. What I felt for him before was but a shadow. He needs me, and I need him. Where will we go together as man and wife? What will our lives be like? You gave me my husband (I love that word!) courage to tear down his walls and finally let me see him.

Right now Mark is out getting us some breakfast. He told me to sleep in, but I couldn’t. I needed some time with you, Lord. I think that you brought Mark and me together. He needs me more than I have ever imagined. He finally said, I love you, to me last night after we made love the second time.

I said, I love you.

He said, No more than I love you.

I am filled with such happiness—JOY! I can’t believe I am Mrs. Mark Davidson. This is a dream come true. I waited so long for Mark to open up to me, and now that he has I love him even more.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you doesn’t even come close to the gratitude I feel for you bringing Mark into my life.

Today, we are going to search the rental section of the newspaper. We hope we find something soon. We don’t have much time to find a place before we need to rent. Perhaps we should have looked for a place at the beginning of the summer.

Anyway, Lord! I trust you will help us find a home.

My husband is back. My husband! Oh how I love the sound of that word!

August 14, 1971

We have been house hunting for the last five days, and I think we finally found the right one. It’s a four bedroom house built in 1900, so it is not modern. However, there is a large living room in the front where Mark can set up a studio.

He needs quite a bit of equipment to make his dream happen. I don’t know how he is going to manage seminary and a photography business, and I don’t know how I will be able to manage school and help Mark with the business end.

Mark didn’t want to touch my inheritance to buy equipment. I convinced him that the money is ours, so we will go into business with each other. He is hoping that he will be self-supporting quickly. He already has many clients from the two years he has been a photographer here. He will do posed pictures at home and will still do weddings.

How will he manage all of this? How will I?

Mark says he loves what he does, and he wants to do it as long as he can before he has to be a fulltime pastor.

Anyway, the house is old but has been well maintained. The house belonged to an elderly woman. When she died her three children inherited it. Instead of selling they decided to rent.

I love the spacious bedrooms. One will become Mark’s dark room. I’ve chosen the bedroom that overlooks the expansive flower gardens in the back of the house. It is overgrown, and there are many weeds. I know I can spruce it up for next summer.

We will be living in his house for almost two years. I think it will suit our needs. The details need to be finalized. We will do that tomorrow morning. I’m so excited to have our first home.

I called Melinda’s parents to see if Melinda was home. Her mother said they had expected her a week ago and haven’t heard anything from her. Mark tried to reach Alex at the camp because he was supposed to stay there until the end of the summer when he can move into his dorm room, but Alex is not there.

Where are they? Are they together? I hope they will be at our wedding as planned. They will have to do some explaining. Actually, a lot of explaining.

Chapter Two

August 15, 1971

We signed the rental agreement this morning. Mark is so excited. I think he is even more excited than I have been.

We get to move in as soon as we want because the house is empty. The three children of the previous owner were all there. The brothers are in their late fifties, and the sister is in her mid-forties. She is still beautiful with her dark hair and eyes. She was so excited that we newlyweds are moving into the house she grew up in.

Mark is a divine lover. I have never felt more alive. The only thing that worries me is that we have not been at all careful. I still don’t know my natural rhythm, and I have been forgetting to take my temperatures. What worries me even more is that right now I am experiencing pain on my left side that tells me I am ovulating. This morning we made love. Actually, we’ve been intimate a couple times a day for a week. We just can’t seem to get enough of each other.

So I am concerned that I’m going to get pregnant. I feel silly not thinking about this sooner. A baby right now would complicate things incredibly. I hope that I won’t get pregnant right now. It’s not the right time. So from now on we will have to take precautions. Won’t be as enjoyable, but a baby right now would be bad.

About wedding plans. . . Dad is frustrated with me for not being home to see to the last minute details. I do feel a bit guilty. It took us a week and a half to find a house, and the wedding is just a week and a half a way.

I won’t be a blushing bride. Well, maybe I’ll blush for other reasons. Dad wants me home now!

But before we go home we are going to Chicago. We are going to see John and Lizzie. Mark wishes to restore their relationship. I have been instrumental in this decision. Mark agrees with me that they should come to our wedding. He needs to explain himself. I pray, Lord, that you give him the right words.

Tomorrow we will drive to Chicago. Mark hasn’t decided if we should call first. I think we should. It wouldn’t be right to just drop in unannounced.

Mark is taking a long bath. He said he missed baths. He hasn’t taken one for a year—not since living in my house last summer.

The man has been in there for almost an hour. I wonder if he fell asleep. It’s getting late, and we have to leave tomorrow morning to get to Chicago in the early afternoon.

I pray all goes well with John and Lizzie.

Right now I am going to get my husband out of the tub, but we won’t be able to make love. I don’t want to risk getting pregnant.

August 20, 1971

We are now on our way home. I won’t be able to call it home in a few weeks. I’ll have my own home. My wedding ceremony and reception is only a week away. I’m very excited to celebrate our union.

We stayed with John and Lizzie for a few days. There were tears in everyone’s eyes when we crossed their threshold. First Lizzie hugged Mark and then John did. Their reunion was incredible.

That word is far inadequate.

Miranda was so excited to see Mark. She is eight years old. She hugged and hugged Mark. Mark was surprised at how much she had grown.

We sat down in their living room, and Mark explained to John and Lizzie his life story. He said he missed them very much but did not have the courage to contact them. He was afraid of including me in his past. He didn’t want my or anyone’s pity.

He told them about us finding a home to live in and that he is going to expand his photography business.

Oh, I must not forget little Isabelle. She is two years old with beautiful curly blond hair. Lizzie was pregnant with her when Mark broke off their relationship.

John and Lizzie were both excited about Mark going into the ministry.

We stayed for a few days to allow Mark to reacquaint himself with the family who gave him a home.

John and Lizzie are lovely people, and, of course, they will be at our wedding. Lizzie thinks our wedding before the wedding is romantic. I think so too. I love being married with all that it entails. Mark is like a dream come true.

We left John and Lizzie’s home this morning. We are close to home.

Soon school will start up for the both of us. We are building our lives together now.

John and Lizzie are precious people. They took in Mark when he needed them the most. I shudder to think of what his life would have been like had they not taken him in. Mark is certain that he would be in prison. He confessed to me his pain in stabbing a boy. Is he dead or alive? We will never know for sure. That fact sobers me.

How awful for Mark to live through, and, oh my, to possibly have taken a life? I can’t even imagine it. And the parents of the boy? What of their potential loss? Oh, God, what a job you must do to repair Mark’s damage. I understand why he never wanted to share his experiences with me. I do not know if I would have the courage to tell anyone if I had done that. I don’t know where this will lead now. The scars on Mark’s heart—can they fully be repaired? If he had not told me we would have continued to be disconnected. I am proud of my husband for revealing his darkest secrets. I can’t even imagine it. I know I have said this before. How can I help my husband heal from this? What should I say? How should I act? But I must remember the blood has been removed from Mark’s hands because your hands were bloodied for his, and somehow you will work this to the good. I do not see how manslaughter or murder could be worked to the good. How deep the pain must go for all involved! I pray for healing on each side.

I am eager to see my father. I will not see him often because he lives so far away from our home. I hope he will come and visit us because it would be difficult for us to see him. I love him so much. He has been a wonderful father to me. Of course, he’s had his controlling moments—especially when Mark was at first in my life. But over the years Dad has learned to let me go. He’s been such a gem in planning our wedding.

August 30, 1971

Our celebration for Mark’s and my union was so wonderful. The service was beautiful. Dad had tears in his eyes through most of it, and I couldn’t help but cry a little, too. Mark winked at me when he said his vows. I had to hold back laughter as his knowing grin spread over his face. I blushed a little thinking of the heated embraces we have shared over the past couple weeks.

The celebration was so fun. Dad picked out a great caterer. Dad chose an Italian theme, so the food was not traditional for weddings. The various pastas were excellent. The garlic bread sticks were very tasty. The antipasto and salads—divine.

The dance afterwards brings a smile to my face. Mark and I danced together. During slow songs we kissed. Our eyes must have betrayed our familiarity with each other’s bodies. I suppose we couldn’t help but look at each other in such a possessive manor.

The surprise on the night of the rehearsal makes me chuckle. Alex and Melinda eloped in Las Vegas. That is where they were until the day of the rehearsal. Melinda and Alex are very much in love, but I can’t believe how impulsive they were. I asked Melinda this morning if she told Alex of her family’s wealth. She blushed and said, No, I want it to be a surprise.

Melinda’s parents were invited to the wedding, but a last-minute business problem kept them from coming.

I am concerned over Alex’s reaction to Melinda’s wealth because of the argument Alex and Mark had over rich people and faith. Alex believed and probably still believes it is impossible for a rich person to want to be a Christian.

Of course, I didn’t say anything to Melinda about it. I felt it wasn’t my place, and, too, she seemed so excited to reveal to Alex their wealth that I didn’t want to break her heart. I pray nothing gets in the way of their love for each other.

I don’t know how many details Melinda has shared with Alex about her colorful past. Does he know she has had many lovers? There is much that Melinda hasn’t even told me, of course. I fear there is more in her background that she is ashamed to reveal.

They are obviously in love. They couldn’t stop touching each other.

Daniel and Jessica—my oh my, what a gorgeous couple. Daniel is a solid mass of muscle. He is incredibly male—charming, gorgeous—an incredibly potent, virile man.

And Jessica! She is so beautiful with her tanned skin and eyes the color of aquamarines. Her hair—wow! Together Daniel and Jessica are stunning.

And now all of us will live in St. Paul. Melinda is transferring to the University of Minnesota. She will have to start college next