Mended Hearts (New Beginnings Series)

by Mandie Tepe

  “She’s really smart. If you go in all innocent and ‘Hey! Fancy meeting you here!’ she’s going to see right through it. Just tell her I mentioned in passing that she was singing there and you decided to go in and check out the band. She’ll probably see through that too, but at least it’s a little less deceiving.”

  “Okay. You said they play four nights a week. When and where would I find her?” Sonny asked.

  “She’s at a country bar called Savannah’s. The house band is Sugar Creek and they play Wednesday through Saturday nights. I don’t have the address, but I think it’s near Balboa Park.”

  “That’ll work. The medical center is in Balboa Park, so I could always just say I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by.”

  Mathias breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Luca. You don’t know what a load off my mind this is. I do owe you big.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I need something to think about besides my pitiful self,” Sonny laughed. “I’ll call and let you know when I make contact.”

  Mathias chuckled. “Is that a Navy SEAL term?”

  “Not really. It sounds more like a 007 term to me. Which fits, because this is sounding a lot like a spy mission.”

  The two old friends finished their conversation and signed off, one headed to that high-powered executive meeting and the other to putter around his tiny apartment, killing time until he was to go to Trace and Meg’s little beach house for dinner—and baseball.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Later that evening, Sonny was stretched out in Trace’s living room, in Trace’s recliner, with his throbbing knee elevated—and feeling kind of guilty about it. He, Scott and Declan—teaching assistants and friends of Meg’s from the SDDI—were engrossed in a Padres game while Meg and Tobi were chatting out on the deck—like they didn’t work together and talk to each other all day every day. What did women find to talk about all the time?

  Things hadn’t been awkward at all with Tobi. She was that kind of girl—easy and drama-free. It was hard to find a woman like that and he wished, a little regretfully, that he’d had more of a connection with her. They’d had a lot of fun together, but you couldn’t force feelings that weren’t there. He’d learned, from watching Trace fall for Meg, that when it was something special you’d know pretty quickly. He’d always kind of let himself fall in “intense like” easily. When he was with someone, he threw himself in wholeheartedly. But, it had never worked out and he was beginning to wish he’d meet someone who would. It would be nice to have someone to come home to.

  It took a special woman to marry into the team, though. He was surrounded by those kinds of women in his life, right now. They were taking good care of him and he knew they cared about him—but he also knew they were doing it because their husbands were so far away and they had that need to nurture. It didn’t make him any less grateful, though.

  Meg came through the sliding door with her phone to her ear. She caught Sonny’s eye. “Sonny! It’s Trace!” She handed the phone to him.

  “McKenna? Hey, buddy! How’re things going over there?” Sonny asked eagerly.

  “According to plan. How ‘bout you? Meg said a couple more weeks ‘til rehab.”

  “Yeah. It’s hard to feel sorry for myself, though, when I’m sitting here in your recliner watching the Padres on your big screen with a belly full of Meg’s meatloaf,” he laughed. “Wish you were here, dude . . . or I was there, working with you guys.”

  “I know. We’re doing okay, but it’s not the same with you gone.” Trace’s voice got real serious. “Dude, when that explosion went off and you went flying, I thought . . .” He wouldn’t let himself finish that statement. Then he chuckled. “But then you popped up from behind that boulder, like that arcade game—Whack-A-Mole—all covered in soot and debris. The only thing we could see that wasn’t black or mud-splattered was the whites of your eyes and the bursts from your M4 blazing as you gimped over to the helo.”

  “Yeah, wish I could have seen it from your vantage point too. Hey, I don’t suppose you guys went back up there to find my sunglasses, did you? Blew right off my face. Man, I hate to think some Taliban scumbag is up there wearing my favorite sunglasses,” Sonny said with a chuckle. “So are you guys headed out today?” He knew they were approximately a half-day ahead of San Diego time, so the team’s day was just beginning, while his was ending. He wanted to ask more questions about the missions he’d missed, but he understood he couldn’t. They couldn’t talk about any of that.

  “We’re on standby. Don’t know yet if we’re headed out.” Enough said.

  “Well . . . watch your backs and get back safe. I’m putting Meg back on. She’ll be more fun for you talk to than I am,” Sonny added as he glanced at Meg with a twinkle in his eye. She’d been hovering, waiting for her turn again.

  After Sonny handed the cell back off to her, she headed back toward their bedroom so she could talk with Trace more privately. Tobi had come back into the house and sat down on the arm of his chair to catch up with him. He spent the rest of the evening hanging out and visiting with her, Meg and the guys, and by the time he got home and went to bed, he was feeling better about things—and a little less sorry for himself.

  CHAPTER 2

  Gracie Laurent walked through the front door of Savannah’s and noticed the rest of the band was already there. The room wasn’t very wide, but was really deep, with the stage all the way at the back end and the hardwood dance floor just in front of it. The bar, made of heavy dark wood and topped with granite, stretched the full length of the room on the right hand side. There were several pool tables on the left hand side with dark wooden tables and chairs of various heights scattered between the bar and pool tables to the edge of the dance floor.

  She scurried through the tables toward the stage, peanut shells crunching beneath her boots. There were a few customers already there. A group of guys sat at a tall table watching two others play pool. There were a couple of other patrons sitting at the bar shooting the breeze with Savannah, bar owner and, apparently, this shift’s bartender. She waved at Gracie as she rushed past.

  “Am I late? I could have sworn I was right on schedule,” she said as she got to the stage.

  Colby glanced at her as he unwound his amp cord. “No, you’re not late. I got here early, and caught Russ here flirting with Savannah.”

  Russ, Sugar Creek’s drummer, didn’t look happy about being busted. “Har, har.”

  They all knew he had a huge crush on Savannah, who was a very hot babe, even though she was almost twice his age.

  Colby continued, “Mick, Les and Maggie got here just before you did.”

  Mick played bass; Les guitar—sometimes steel guitar—and back-up vocals; and Maggie the fiddle and back-up vocals. Colby, of course, was lead guitarist, sang some lead and back-up vocals and was the bandleader. Gracie had been a little nervous about fitting into an existing band—especially as lead singer instead of backup. But they had all melded together easily, without a lot of fuss and drama. She was relieved, because she needed a new start so badly and didn’t know where else she would go if it hadn’t worked out.

  She’d been in San Diego about a week-and-a-half and was starting to feel settled. It had been a whirlwind of rehearsals. They had spent every waking hour trying to get her up to speed on their repertoire. She also had to eke out time to find a place to live and a second part-time job.

  Gracie spent the first few nights on Colby’s sofa until she found a place in a large, historic Spanish home that had been renovated into small apartments. It was near Balboa Park and Savannah’s. Her parents had trucked some of her furniture down and helped her move it into her new place the weekend before. Of course it was so tiny, she’d had to leave a lot of her stuff in storage in her northern California hometown.

  Finding a second job was another worry. She had strict time constraints, because her first priority had to be the band. She
had to be free every evening for rehearsals as well as actual performances. Retail was out of the question, because they wanted their employees to be available to work evenings and weekends—same with waitressing. She’d scoured the want ads, hoping for a creative solution.

  While she was chatting with one of her new neighbors, the lady told her about the daycare center her children attended and mentioned they were looking for afternoon staff. Apparently they had plenty of morning staff, because there were fewer children enrolled for morning sessions. The number of kids doubled in the afternoon since kindergarten children got out of school at noon, and the older elementary school kids at three o’clock. Since school would be starting up again in a week or so, they were padding their staff. Gracie rushed over to apply and got the job—mainly because of her ability to start a new musical activity program for the kids. It was perfect for her needs and she loved children.

  She was relieved to be placed with the staff working with the older children, though. She still felt a twinge when she saw the toddlers. Her baby would have been almost two-years-old by now.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Gracie had lived a very sheltered life and was just beginning to feel that she was coming out of her cocoon. She had no other choice. She refused to live her life as a damaged, needy person. Even she was surprised at how strong she could be. It was a strength she prayed for every morning.

  Raised in a small, close-knit community, surrounded by a loving family, she couldn’t have asked for a happier, more fun childhood. She was quiet, but secure of her place in the world. At a very young age she had fallen in love with music. The first time she stood in front of an audience to sing was at her small church at the age of five, and from that time on she craved performing. She inherited her love of music from her grandfather, who was an enthusiastic fiddle player, even though he wasn’t the most talented. Her mother always joked that the stork must have hit a patch of turbulence and dropped her at the wrong house, because no one else in the family could carry a tune. She would sit for hours with Granddad listening to his old record albums on an ancient turntable. Those were her fondest memories.

  Gracie dated the same boy all through high school. She’d known Rob since she started school, and it seemed natural that, when he was headed off to college the year before she graduated from high school, they would get engaged. He came home most weekends and they were as close as ever. The wedding took place a month after she graduated. Though her parents fretted a little over her marrying so young, they loved Rob and trusted him completely to take care of her.

  That fall they moved to San Francisco, where he would continue with his second year of college. She found a full-time job as a receptionist at a recording studio, hoping to be given the opportunity to work as a studio back-up singer there—possibly even singing demos for local songwriters hoping to shop their songs around.

  Gracie and Rob struggled as young couples do. He was in school full-time, while she worked trying to support them both. She had begun to get some bookings at the studio, which helped supplement her salary. He seemed to be gone more and more with study and project groups, but she knew this was a temporary phase in their lives and it would all be worth it when he graduated with his degree.

  Two years into the marriage, the unexpected had happened—a surprise pregnancy. She panicked at first, but it wasn’t long before she saw it for the blessing it was. They were young, and Rob had another year of school to go, but other couples had made it work. She had no doubt they could too. She worked as hard as she had before, and came home exhausted—with her cooking and cleaning and laundry duties still there waiting for her. Gracie wished she could count on Rob to help out a little more at home—even spend more time with her there—but then she’d remind herself that his studies should be his priority. She knew he would make it up to her after he was out of school.

  It all fell apart in a space of about two minutes. It was a Friday afternoon and she was seven-and-a-half months pregnant. Her feet and legs were swelling and cramping so badly, her office manager had shooed her out of the office and sent her home to put her feet up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken the afternoon off work. She’d driven home and dragged herself out of the car and up the steep sidewalk to the townhouse. Letting herself in, her first priority was to go upstairs and get out of her panty hose and into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. She headed up the stairs—they seemed to get steeper the bigger around she got—toward the bedroom.

  As she got to the top of the stairs she heard voices coming from behind the closed bedroom door. Why would the door be closed? Oh no! Maybe Rob had come home sick too. Concerned, she tapped on the door as she opened it and stood there—stunned. Rob had come home and gone to bed—but to her shock he was not alone. The blonde jumped up, apparently as shocked as Gracie was. She grabbed her dress off the floor to hold in front of her. Rob seemed frozen. Gracie couldn’t speak. She turned to walk out of the room, her cramping and swollen legs forgotten.

  Halfway down the stairs she heard the girl screeching at Rob. His wife was pregnant? How could he? How could he do this to her? Turns out she was more concerned about herself than Rob’s hugely pregnant wife who’d just gotten the shock of her life. Gracie guessed she wasn’t that concerned that he had a wife . . . just that she was pregnant. That’s when the anger started burning through the hurt. Gracie’s knees buckled and she dropped onto a chair in the tiny living room and waited for Blondie to leave. It didn’t take her long. She stormed out, slamming the door, never even looking at Gracie as she left.

  Gathering every ounce of energy she could, she rose from the chair just as Rob came running down the stairs. He stumbled to a stop when he saw her as he was reaching for the doorknob.

  “I thought you left,” he choked out.

  Gracie didn’t say anything to him. She just stepped around him as she headed toward the stairs, unable to look at him.

  Rob grabbed her arm as she moved past him. “Gracie, please . . . talk to me.”

  She jerked her arm away and headed up the stairs, then down the hall to the bedroom. Keeping her eyes averted from the rumpled bed, she grabbed an overnight bag from the closet and started blindly stuffing clothes into it.

  He walked over to her, wrenched the bag out of her hands, flung it across the room and held her by both arms as she struggled to get free. “Gracie! You can’t leave . . . I’m sorry! We can work this out . . .”

  She couldn’t process anything coming out of his mouth, except that he was alternately blaming her, then blaming himself, and then blaming Blondie—whose name was apparently Amber. Gracie had been so tired lately . . . hadn’t been giving him enough attention . . . but it was all his fault . . . what did she expect him to do, when faced with that kind of temptation . . .

  Now that the blinders were off, Gracie could see the red flags waving before her mind’s eye and she felt like the biggest fool the world had ever seen. All of the mysterious study group meetings he never wanted to discuss with her. The project meetings she never saw the finished results of. Him never wanting to invite his study group over to meet at their house—his excuse being that he didn’t want to put her out.

  Her panic escalated and all she wanted to do was get out of the house. She put her hands over her ears and started back down the hall toward the stairs. He chased her down and caught her at the top of them, crowded in front of her and slapped her.

  “Gracie! Stop! You listen to me!” His face was filled with rage.

  She snapped back, stunned. Who was this man? This was not the Rob she knew. Tears started coursing down her cheeks and she struggled to get away from him. He slammed her back against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. The blow to the back of her head caused her to see stars. She whimpered. He pushed her, belly-down onto the floor and all she could think about was her baby. That’s when she began fighting back. She started kicking as hard as she could—anywhere she could reach, whi
ch made him hit her around the face and head harder. She had to get out of there. Somehow she wrenched free and started crawling toward the stairs again, trying to gain her feet. Just as she reached up to grab the railing and got her feet under her, he charged her from behind and shoved her back. The problem was there was nothing behind her but the long staircase and she went tumbling all the way to the bottom, before she knew what was happening.

  Gracie lay crumpled against the foyer wall, barely conscious, when her next-door neighbor pushed the front door open and took in the scene. She screamed out the door and two maintenance men doing lawn care in the complex common area ran over. Gracie, of course, was unaware of anything going on around her except the excruciating pain in her abdomen and the blinding pain in her head.

  She woke up several hours later in a hospital bed with her parents hovering over her. The physical pain of broken bones and a concussion were horrible. But, the emotional pain of losing her precious baby was unbearable. Her mom and dad were horrified when they first saw her. Her face was so swollen and bruised they couldn’t recognize her. Then they had to break the news about the miscarriage. It was the hardest thing they’d ever had to do.

  They also informed her that the maintenance men had gotten help and held Rob for the police. Not that that had been very difficult. He had appeared to be in shock and had just sat at the top of the stairs gazing down at her with sightless eyes. He’d been arrested and was even now locked up—charged with deadly assault with other charges possibly pending.

  Late that evening the detectives came to take her statement. They were very kind and considerate, making the ordeal as easy as they possibly could . . . but it was still difficult to live through it again.

  Gracie’s brother, Mathias, had flown into San Francisco and took up his post by her bedside too. Between him and her parents, she wasn’t left alone at any time of day or night. She left the hospital a week later and was driven back home, directly to her parents’ house. Mathias and Granddad had gone over to the townhouse and packed up all of her things before she was even discharged.