Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series)

by Tepe, Mandie

  Sonny looked at Trace doubtfully. “Really, dude. I can stick around and help.”

  “No, really, Sonny. You’ve done enough. I appreciate all your help today.”

  “Well, it was a great party . . . until Sean showed up. It really was a good time.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Trace clasped his hand and shoulder-bumped him . . . that weird move that served as a guy-hug. Meg smiled to herself.

  Sonny started toward the back door. “I’m just going to shovel some sand on the fire pit. Make sure it’s good and doused.”

  “Okay . . . thanks, Sonny!” Meg walked over to give him a hug. Then he was gone and she turned around to find Trace watching her with concern.

  “I’m fine! Don’t look at me like that. I had to see him sometime. It’s just as well we got it over with.” She turned toward the kitchen and got to work. “Do you want to just check to make sure there are no plates and food scraps left around outside? We don’t want to be inundated by seagulls at sunrise tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing.” He headed out the back door.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  After they had finished the kitchen clean up, and all that was left to do was picking up the party paraphernalia, filling in the fire pit and generally setting Trace’s house back to normal the next day, they crashed side by side on the couch.

  “Whew!” Meg exclaimed.

  Trace pulled her down so she was lying on her back with him on his side up against the back of the couch, both arms wrapped around her. He looked down into her face. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” she answered. Her brow furrowed. “I hope everyone didn’t get too bummed out at the end. I’d hate for that to be the part of the party everyone remembers.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. I think everyone had a good time. Let’s not even think about that part.” He smiled at her.

  She gazed searchingly into his eyes. “I can’t believe it’s almost time for me to leave.” It was her way of bringing up a subject they both had been avoiding. Where did they go from here? What was the next course of action?

  “Let’s not think about that part either,” he said.

  Not the answer she was looking for. She was trying not to show her worry. She didn’t want to push, but . . . what did she want him to say? Don’t leave? Stay forever? Take me with you? I’ll fly out to meet you at your next gig. She had to push all of this out of her mind or she might start bawling. If she did she knew what he would say . . . When can you leave? Need help packing? Here, let me get the door for you. All she could do was force a smile up at him.

  He’d seen something in her eyes, but it was a scary something. He didn’t want to think about what that was, so he did the only other thing he could think to do. He bent toward her and kissed her. As soon as he did the heat between them flared. She wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him closer until his chest rested against hers. The angle of their lips changed and the kiss deepened. His hand splayed over her ribs and she shifted so that she was lying on her side facing him. His hand moved across her back as he wrapped his arm more fully around her, pulling her tighter against him. Their legs tangled and they lost track of time as they became more lost in each other. After a while Meg’s senses returned and she pulled away, breathing heavily.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “We have to stop.”

  Trace rubbed his eyes and pulled his hand down his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

  Meg stood up and Trace swung his feet to the floor as he sat up. She stepped away from him as if she was afraid to stand too close to him . . . and she was. It would be so easy to give in to her feelings for him. “Please forgive me,” she said shakily. “I don’t mean to send you mixed messages. Really . . . I . . .”

  “Meg, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” His voice sounded a little rough, but he didn’t look angry or anything. Well . . . maybe he looked a little disappointed.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you . . . you know . . . that way . . . but . . .” she stammered.

  He forced a chuckle, “Not helping . . . Please, Meg. Let’s change the subject. Wow! Will you look at the time!”

  She snickered and looked over at the clock over the stove. “Oh! It’s almost one o’clock.” She looked back at him as he stood up. “I really should be going. Mom and Dad want us to go to the early service at Bayside Christian and then have brunch before they have to get to the airport tomorrow. You’re invited, by the way.”

  “I’m meeting my folks early for breakfast. Their plane leaves at ten thirty. I won’t be able to meet you at church. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” She started looking around for her huge handbag.

  “That was a stroke of genius, though.”

  She glanced over at him puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “Mentioning church and our parents was better than dousing me with a bucket of ice water. Nicely played,” he laughed.

  “That’s not what I was doing, but I’m glad it worked for you.” She continued the hunt for her handbag and remembered she had left it in his guest room. As she came back into the living room he was standing at the door with his keys in his hand.

  “Come on. I’m going to follow you to Tobi’s to make sure you make it home okay.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s really late. There’s no reason for us both to go out.”

  “I won’t sleep if I’m not sure you made it home safe.”

  “I can call when I get there—let you know I made it home safe and sound.”

  Trace shook his head in exasperation. “Don’t argue, Meg. I’m coming with you.”

  “Alright! Alright!” Meg gave in and went out the door ahead of him. She glanced back over her shoulder as she walked across the front yard and called, “Thanks, Trace!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It was still before dawn and Trace was staring at the ceiling. He’d followed Meg home several hours earlier and, from the time he pulled out of the driveway behind her, he’d been too much in his head. What was he doing? He’d kissed her so that he wouldn’t have to talk to her about where they were going from here. But that had only made it worse. Why did he have to fall in love with someone like her? And he admitted it . . . if only to himself. He did love her. Why couldn’t she be a bank teller at his local bank? Just a regular, settled girl. Someone with roots that he could just graft his own life into? But she wouldn’t be Meg then, would she?

  He tried to imagine what their lives would be like a couple of years down the road. He might be thinking of leaving the active SEAL teams. Maybe moving into training SEAL candidates to continue on the tradition, even if he couldn’t be out on the battlefield with them. Regardless, he could see himself staying settled in the San Diego area. He liked it here. The friends he had here were his family. He couldn’t image moving back to the Midwest.

  Where would Meg be, though? She’d still be flitting around the globe, spreading beauty and art wherever she went. She’d call to let him know where her next destination was and he’d have to tell her he couldn’t meet her there because of his own obligations. He’d ask her—yet again—when she’d be coming back to spend time with him. Before too long he knew she would feel like he was pressuring her to drop her career to be with him. And he knew too, that after a while that might be just what he was doing. He wouldn’t want to, and at first, he’d make a point not to—but it would come. He couldn’t imagine their souls being connected so strongly without him having her with him. He didn’t think he could do it.

  They still had a week to be together. But was that a good thing? Maybe not. They could spend as much time as possible together, but it would be strained and awkward, neither of them knowing what to say and trying not to say anything, really. Neither of them would want to be the one to say goodbye . . . or that it wouldn’t work. Even if they both felt that way.

  In the end, Trace felt this would never work. I
t would damage them both more the longer they drew this thing out. It would break his heart into even more pieces if they parted after a year or two with hard feelings between them. As the sky started to lighten he made the decision. He would have to be the strong one . . . the one brave enough to break it off now before anyone was hurt even more. It was going to hurt badly enough as it was. By the end of the week it may be unbearable. Now he had to decide how to do it . . . how to break it off.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Meg walked out of the airport after seeing her parents off for home. It was after one o’clock. The flight had been delayed and she had waited on the concourse with her folks. She was trying to call Trace to let him know she was on her way, but got his voicemail again. She had tried to reach him before church to say “good morning,” but he didn’t answer then either. He must have been at breakfast with Claire and Michael—and maybe Sean too—and it had probably turned into quite a family meeting. Hopefully they were able to get Sean straightened out.

  She hung up without leaving a message, deciding to just head on over there. He was expecting her even if she was running a little late. That’s when she noticed he had left her a voicemail. It looked like he had sent it while she was at church. That was weird . . . he knew she would be in church with her phone turned off. She hoped everything was okay. She entered the code to retrieve the message.

  “Hey, Meg . . . I just wanted to let you know that Charley came by and we’re about finished cleaning up. There’s really no reason for you to come by. We’re supposed to be over at Sonny’s by kickoff time . . . um . . . noon, I guess. So . . . hope you’re having a good morning with your folks. Um . . . talk to you later . . . bye.”

  She stopped dead still in front of her car and stared at the phone—stunned. She snapped the phone shut and dug for her keys, got into her car and sat for a moment. Huh! Maybe she just assumed they’d spend what was left of the day together, when he had had plans all along. This felt wrong, but she couldn’t logically say why. Of course she shouldn’t assume anything. He had a life before she came along. Just because you were in a relationship you shouldn’t expect to be joined at the hip. She chuckled to herself. He’d call her later and everything would be fine. She started the car and steered it toward Tobi’s house. She was tired anyway and could use a day of rest. Maybe even a nap. She tried to remember—when was the last time she had had the luxury of a nap? She also tried not to worry over Trace.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Trace sat at the bar in his kitchen and stared at his cell phone as if it were a snake. Finally he reached out slowly, picked it up and flipped it open. He dialed and then waited for her to answer.

  “Hello?” Meg answered breathlessly. “Trace?”

  “Hey.” He couldn’t make himself say her name.

  “Did you have fun watching football at Sonny’s?” she asked with forced cheer. He could sense the hurt, though, coming over the phone.

  “Um, yeah. Listen . . . I have to talk to you.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to come over there?”

  “No! Um . . . I’m packing to go out of town.”

  Meg gasped, “Not another deployment so soon!”

  “No. It’s just a training thing—parachute training. Someone from the team needs to go and I guess it’s me.”

  Trace rubbed his eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t tell her that he had spent all day at Sonny’s on the phone pulling strings to make it happen. The training opportunity offer had been made a couple of months ago and he had turned it down. Now he was taking it as an opportunity to run. Away from her. He was just going to end this thing with Meg quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

  “Oh,” Meg said, sounding bewildered. “I don’t remember hearing about it. Did I forget?”

  “It just kind of came up.” Trace tried telling himself it wasn’t exactly a lie. He didn’t remember ever feeling like a coward the way he did now.

  “Will I hear from you, Trace?” Meg asked.

  He slid off the stool and paced over to the door, staring out into the dark toward the beach. “Meg,” his voice cracked, as he knew it would when he said her name. “I just think we should end this while we still have good feelings for one another. We both know how hard long distance relationships are. You don’t even know where you’re going to end up and what you’re going to be doing.”

  All he got back was dead silence. “I don’t want you to make any career decisions based on what you think I might want you to do. It should be about you.” He paused then said, “Please, Meg. Say something.”

  “So you’re dumping me for my own good?” she asked.

  “Please don’t think of it that way.” He paced back toward the kitchen and muttered, “Jeez . . . I hate that word . . . ‘dumping.’”

  “Just be honest with me, Trace.”

  “That was an honest reason, Meg. But I don’t think I can handle it, either. I can’t be with you and not be with you at the same time. Maybe you think that’s selfish, but I’m thinking of you—and your feelings—too.”

  “No you’re not, or you would have talked to me about it first, before proclaiming that it’s not going to work.” Meg sighed in defeat. “Well . . . I guess that’s it, then. Thanks for everything, Trace. It’s been fun.”

  “Meg . . . I . . . I really . . .” He couldn’t come up with one thing to say.

  Meg broke in, a catch in her voice, “Bye, Trace. Please take care of yourself.”

  Then she hung up. But Trace imagined he could hear her sobs from where he stood in the middle of the kitchen in his little house on the beach. It seemed lonelier than ever because he knew she’d never be back there again. And the funny thing was, he didn’t remember ever feeling really lonely before Meg. He threw the phone across the room and stormed back to his bedroom to pack. He had to catch the redeye in a few hours.

  On the plane as he flew out to Arizona, he couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t even close his eyes. This morning before dawn, he had lied when he told himself he was the one being brave for both him and Meg by breaking things off. But now he knew the truth. Every time he closed his eyes the faces of his friends’ wives flashed before him. Faces of courageous women who, time after time, watched their loved ones leave—headed off for dangerous missions, not knowing if they would ever come home. Sometimes they didn’t come home. And he couldn’t even make himself be brave enough to watch Meg leave and wait for her to come back. He was disgusted with himself and was relieved no one he knew was there to see what a coward he really was.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  The next morning Tobi came around the corner into the kitchenette of her small apartment. Meg quickly lowered the cool cloth she had been holding over her tear-swollen eyes where she sat at the table.

  Tobi raised her eyebrows and met Meg’s eyes, “Don’t even try to hide it, hon. I heard you crying all night long.” She reached over to turn off the tiny television on top of the refrigerator. She figured the talking heads didn’t have any good news to report this morning anyway. They rarely did.

  “Oh, Tobi! I’m so sorry. Did I keep you awake?”

  “No, you didn’t. My anger at Trace did.”

  Meg shook her head. “I probably vented to you way too much last night. I know you didn’t sign on for all my drama when we first became friends.” She shot a half-smile at Tobi. “I know you probably don’t believe this, but prior to my visit to sunny San Diego I was relatively drama-free.”

  Tobi turned the burner on under the teapot and opened the pantry looking for Meg’s peppermint tea. “Oh, I believe it. I, however, can’t say the same. Maybe you should stay. I think you’re a magnetic force pulling all of the drama that usually finds me to yourself. I’d be willing to pay a small monthly fee if you’d stay so I can keep my nice calm life a little longer.”

  Meg stood up with a chuckle and hugged
Tobi. “I love you! Maybe I can put you in my pocket and take you with me wherever I go. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

  “You’re never gonna be without me. That’s where Trace and I are different. I believe in long distance relationships—with a little work—and we are bff’s for life! No question.”

  Meg sat back down at the table. “I heard your phone ring after you went to bed last night. Everything okay?”

  “It was Sonny,” she answered, wiggling her eyebrows at Meg.

  “Really? Did he call to ask you out for a hot date?”

  “We may never know. I lit into him about Trace.”

  “What? Why? That has nothing to do with Sonny.”

  “Did you or did you not tell me that Trace spent the day with Sonny yesterday?”

  “Yes . . . but I still don’t understand . . .”

  Tobi stood up as the teapot started to whistle and poured hot water over the teabags resting in two mugs. “Meg, you know how guys are. They get together and talk each other out of—or into—things. And usually they’re talking each other into doing something stupid, or out of relationships.”

  “No way. Sonny . . . and Charley too . . . have always treated me really well. Like one of the guys, actually. I can’t see this being anyone’s fault but Trace’s. Maybe mine.” Meg stared into her mug as she stirred in some sweetener.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Tobi said angrily. “That’s another thing guys do—make us blame ourselves for things that are not our fault.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder how they do that. I used to think that if I could have a super power it would be to fly, but now that I think about it . . . maybe it would be the power to get other people to blame themselves for something I did. That could be pretty cool.”

  Trying to keep Tobi on topic could be a struggle, but Tobi’s quicksilver mind was a lot of fun too. Meg steered the subject back on track. “I’ve just been lying awake all night trying to figure it out. I came up with a few possibilities, but all of them make me madder at Trace and they make me look stupid. I don’t know what to think.”