The Fiddler's Heart

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  “Not much. I guess you were right. This turned into a bit of a gathering.” He held her gaze, admiring her eyes and thinking about her sister. He shouldn’t be. Perhaps it was just the soldier in him wanting to protect.

  “It sure did. Do you need anything?”

  “I’m good. Where is Francesca? I haven’t seen her yet,” he asked just as the doorbell rang.

  “Oh, she might come out later. I think she’s on the side patio. Let me go grab the door.” She turned to head that way. Gordon looked toward the long hallway that led to the side door and patio but thought better of going to search for Francesca. Instead he walked toward Sodo and Niko who were standing on the back patio that was adjacent to the living room. The house was stunning, and so wide open. They should get some ideas from these guys for their own place that was currently under construction and not far from here. He headed out and felt that heaviness grow deeper the farther away he walked from the side patio. He hoped that Francesca was okay.

  * * * *

  Track was in a sour mood and his arm fucking throbbed still. It was ridiculous how many fucking stitches he needed and all because some lame rookie detective tripped him up. He could have gotten stabbed in the chest or abdomen. He still didn’t know how the fuck he got out of there alive. He walked down the hallway from the bathroom thinking about their place and some of the new construction and ideas for the addition. Their first focus had been the training room. They were soldiers, Special Forces, and despite officially being retired it seemed their new jobs entailed being at the top of their game still. A lot of times these investigations turned into physical confrontations and they needed to be ready. Weapons or hand-to-hand combat were still very real.

  The thought of being in a fight right now or getting his arm banged against made him feel chills. It aggravated him and it didn’t help that he got a bit of ribbing from his friends. It came with the territory. He would be ragging on them too if they were the ones who got banged up because of a rookie. At least no one was killed. That was most important. He looked out across the property and could hear some music playing from the side of the house. It sounded like classical music and then went into a more upbeat, country sort of tune. He wasn’t really sure, but it was soothing, and sounded nice. He wondered where it came from. Were there speakers out here? By the patio and living room country music had been playing. He walked toward it, the sound getting louder, stronger and he realized it was real, not the radio but Francesca playing. He saw her, sitting there playing the fiddle so beautifully and just looking out toward the open land of the property.

  She wore a one-piece sleeveless dress in yellow that was tight against her full breasts but loose on her belly. Her thin, long arms and slender fingers held the fiddle, a gorgeous instrument that his brother had made sure to confiscate from the home for Francesca.

  She looked like a porcelain doll, her face perfection, her jaw feminine, dainty, and she was just the epitome of classiness, fragility, and pure beauty. Like something he never knew, never saw or got so close to. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall and just listened. When the song ended she paused a moment, and he realized that she saw him or maybe sensed him. He opened his eyes and she stared at him from the chair, looking scared.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or make you stop. It’s so beautiful and relaxing,” he said to her and walked from the side and into the open near her. He realized that she may not remember him just as she looked at his arm.

  “I don’t know if you remember me—”

  “Track, correct?” she whispered and then swallowed as she looked him over, and holy fuck, his dick hardened. What the fuck?

  “How did you know?”

  “I heard about your arm today at Ciao Bella’s. How are you feeling?”

  He took the seat a few feet away from her that didn’t really face her but faced the yard. He leaned back. “Honestly?” he asked and she nodded.

  “Like shit.” She squinted.

  “Are you taking anything for it?”

  “No. I hate taking any kind of pills, but the doctor gave some stuff to ensure it doesn’t get infected.” He looked at her.

  “How about you? How are you feeling?”

  “Good.” He nodded. They stared at one another and she rubbed her palm down her dress.

  “I didn’t mean to make you stop playing. You’re very talented,” he said to her, but she looked unsure, not confident, yet she played like a professional if he ever heard one play before.

  “What was that you were playing before? It sounded kind of country and classical.”

  “I was just fooling around.”

  “You mean it’s your own work? You write music too?” he asked and she nodded. He smiled softly and it surprised him. He wasn’t a smiling kind of guy. He was always serious, always in a mood. “Hmm.” He looked back out toward the property.

  “It was nice and peaceful. Got me out of my mood. Maybe you can play some more?”

  She looked scared again and she kind of seemed to eye him over with uncertainty.

  “Or not. It’s completely up to you. I was the one who rudely interrupted and invaded your privacy.” He started to get up.

  “It’s okay. I just like to come out here and play to relax and not really play for anyone else.”

  “Why not for anyone else?” he asked her.

  She shrugged her shoulders. He hadn’t meant to push but it seemed to him that she had good reason for that. He was going to get up and walk away despite feeling calm here and with her, which was odd. Just as he was about to get up she started to play again. He glanced at her but she was looking out and away from him. He leaned back and just listened to her playing the fiddle, and he never heard anything more beautiful, or let his mind drift to things he thought could never be a reality. A life here in Warriorville, a family, a normal life. Then he realized he was staring at her, admiring her beauty then remembering her struggle, the abuse, her youth, and something deeper stirred inside of him. A feeling of protectiveness.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back, just listening and getting so caught up in the sounds that he no longer felt the ache in his arm, but instead felt something in his heart and his gut.

  * * * *

  Sodo went looking for Track. He knew his brother was getting pissed off from the ribbing by the guys, but they were teasing and trying to make light of a rather intense and scary incident that could have gone a different direction. That was Sodo’s concern. Prior to this incident Track had been taking advantage of the therapy sessions at Warrior’s Way and helping out a bunch of other soldiers who were having difficulty transitioning into civilian life. It helped Track to deal with his PTSD and also feel like he could make a difference in the soldiers’ lives. It was therapeutic for him too, and it helped with Track’s piss poor attitude.

  When he heard the music coming from the side of the porch he walked closer, getting caught up in the sound. Immediately he knew it had to be Francesca playing the fiddle. He was impressed to say the least, and as he got closer, saw Track sitting in a chair, feet up on the railing looking relaxed as Francesca played, a series of crazy thoughts attacked his mind. No one made Track sit still and relax. Then he saw her. The pretty yellow dress, the way her arms moved, and the way she looked as the sun began to set and cast a glow upon her tanned skin. Her breasts pushed from the dress she wore, she was well endowed, yet her arms super thin, almost concerning. His heart raced, his cock thickened. Christ, he was attracted to her. To this scene, to the sight of her calming his brother, a man who at times could lose his temper and give up on happiness and peacefulness. They were all hard men, and yet they could empathize with victims. Was that what Track was doing? Trying to help Francesca to feel comfort, safety with his presence?

  He moved closer, closed his eyes, and the music stopped. He blinked them open. Track shifted in his seat. He looked shocked at seeing Sodo standing there. Was he mad, was he caught off guard?

  “What’s goi
ng on?” Track asked him and stood up.

  “I was worried about you, but I see you’re in good hands here. This is peaceful,” he said and then looked at Francesca. She held the fiddle against her chest.

  “You’re very talented. I can see how anyone would just relax and enjoy your playing,” he said and walked closer. He turned and leaned against the railing near Track.

  “I was telling her the same thing. She is very talented, and add in this setting, the sun going down, and the calmness her playing emits and I could just stay here and enjoy it for hours,” Track told her.

  Track stared at Francesca and she worried her bottom lip.

  “You know she writes her own music. Was that another one of them, Francesca?” Track asked her as if trying to engage her in conversation and put her at ease.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s incredible.”

  “Definitely incredible. Can you play something else for me?” Sodo asked and she looked at him like she might say no, but then she lifted the fiddle and began to play. Sodo looked at Track and Track nodded but then turned around and leaned back in the chair, adjusted it to face Francesca as Sodo leaned against the railing and listened. It wasn’t long before he too was closing his eyes and just absorbing the sounds, the beauty of her playing. When he heard footsteps, he looked toward the side of the house and could see Angelina and Castle heading their way. Angelina looked at him, then Track with squinted eyes and seemed angry. Castle stopped her by grabbing her wrist. He locked gazes with Sodo who nodded. They stood there a moment out of sight and then Francesca stopped playing.

  Angelina walked closer.

  “Is my sister giving a private concert or something?” she asked, smiling. Francesca looked at her, her cheeks flush, but she didn’t look scared.

  “I’m going to have to thank my brother Gordon for finding Francesca’s fiddle and returning it to her. She is incredibly talented,” Track told Angelina but he was smiling at Francesca.

  “I’ve been trying to tell Frankie that for a while now. Hoping she’ll take up Octo’s offer of her playing at Mulligan’s in the back room,” Angelina said.

  “Octo offered you that, Francesca?” Sodo asked her.

  “I’m not really ready for that.”

  “Are you kidding me? Frankie, you’re so good that that huge orchestra wanted you in their regular event at the theater in Dallas.”

  “Seriously? That is really impressive. Would you be able to play your own music?” Track asked.

  “I would have played whatever they ordered to be played.” She put down the fiddle, placing it in the case. Sodo thought she sounded upset.

  “Well at Mulligan’s you could probably play whatever you wanted, even your own music you wrote. A few musicians play there and they’ve gone on to travel and play at other locations,” Castle added.

  “I wouldn’t want to do that. I wouldn’t feel comfortable,” Francesca said.

  “Then Mulligan’s would be a great start. You could do one of those impromptu things where you just happen to bring along your fiddle and pull it out to play,” Sodo said to her. She chuckled.

  “What? He has a point. We’ve been there a few times when someone just randomly pulled out a banjo or a guitar and started to sing Irish songs as they played and people joined in. There is definitely no pressure there,” Angelina added.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We could all go. Like out for drinks, sit in the area, and then when it gets quiet between sets by the scheduled musicians you could pull out the fiddle and play,” Track offered and she stared at him as Sodo looked at the shock on Castle’s face and the smile that reached Angelina’s eyes.

  “That would be great,” Angelina said and then they heard Niko calling to them that the game was starting.

  “Come on, let’s head back,” Castle said to Angelina.

  “You coming, Frankie?” she asked her.

  “I don’t know,” Francesca said.

  “Come on, it will be fun. Your sister cooked up a storm,” Sodo told her.

  “Frankie helped,” Angelina said and then her and Castle walked away.

  “So you can cook too?” Track asked her.

  “Our parents owned a café and we had to learn how to do a lot of things,” she said softly and stood up. She bent to lock the fiddle in its case. Then she lifted it up.

  “Need some help with that?” Sodo asked.

  “I’m good. Thank you.”

  “So you’ll come out to the party and watch some football with us?” Track asked her.

  “Maybe.”

  “Come on, we’ll wait for you to put that away,” Sodo added and she nibbled her bottom lip and he wondered if he sounded too stern. But then she nodded and walked toward the other side of the porch. Sodo looked at Track but didn’t say a word. What would he ask or say? Are you attracted to her? Are you going to pursue her, because I think I want to as well? As he realized his line of thinking, then came thoughts of Gordon and Century. Would they be interested too? Were they just feeling this attraction out of need to protect Francesca, or was there more? What about their failed relationship with Ally? She was young, like Francesca, but nothing like her. She was a convenience.

  When Francesca returned she was now wearing a light sweater, the top button covering the deep cleavage of her dress, making her look more conservative and less sexy. He didn’t mind that. It was another indicator of her experience, as well as her personality. Unlike Ally who wore things as tight and as revealing as she could and even more so when they took her out so she got attention and tried making them jealous. It didn’t though. It just made her look cheap and disrespectful of their relationship with her. It was bound to fail from the start. Why would he think a younger woman, a different one would work?

  As they walked with her, he placed a hand at her lower back and she tightened up, look up at him over her shoulder.

  “Do you like football?” he asked, trying to bring attention away from the contact and its effect on them.

  “I don’t mind it,” she said.

  “No favorite team then?” Track asked as they joined the others.

  “The Texans,” she said and Sodo smiled.

  “Century will be happy to hear that, but not us,” he said and they walked over to join their friends and get some food.

  Chapter 2

  Angelina walked into the kitchen to see Frankie sipping a cup of coffee and staring at her cell phone.

  “Morning,” she said to her.

  Frankie turned to look up at her and smiled softly. “Morning.”

  She walked over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.

  “What are doing?” she asked.

  “Looking up some recipes.”

  “Recipes for what?” Angelina asked.

  “Protein shakes.”

  “Why, you don’t like the ones I suggested to make?” she asked and smiled.

  “I like the ones you suggested, it’s just that I was talking to Track and Sodo last night and they were telling me about this site they go on to get some ideas, so I was checking it out.

  “Ohhh, so since Track and Sodo recommended them you decided to give them a try?” she said and smirked. Her sister blushed and looked away.

  “Well they do a lot of training and Track helps out at Warrior’s Way, and he learned a bunch of things from these soldiers he became friends with. Anyway, it sounded interesting because Track explained how these soldiers were injured or recovering physically, mentally, and they were trying to find ways to help them gain strength so they could start training and feeling empowered. Anyway, it made sense to me, and he mentioned Alaska James and LeeAnn. My therapist Catalina had actually mentioned this group to me before, but I didn’t really feel comfortable about attending. Then you know, we took that money from Clifton and started to donate it to programs like these that help women and their families. Anyway, it’s like all connected somehow. This town, the people, and our conversation, it like came together and I thin
k I want to try it.”

  “Well that’s awesome, and I’ve heard wonderful things about the programs they offer at Warrior’s Way. How do you think you’ll feel about the soldiers? I mean I know it was obvious you were comfortable around Sodo, Track, Gordon, and Century. You were with them all last night and late too.”

  “They were easy to talk to, I guess. Well I mean I didn’t do a lot of talking but they did. I was just going to see how it works. Then maybe you could help me coordinate a meal plan. Ya know to do between work and—”

  “Training with me at Powerhouse?” She asked and smiled.

  “I don’t know yet. I want to it’s just that—”

  “What? What is standing in the way? I mean you have these conversations with these men you hardly know and you wake up ready to change your nutritional habits and get stronger, but you still back down from learning self-defense. Why is that?” she asked her in frustration.

  “I don’t want to feel embarrassed.”

  “Feel embarrassed? Why? For not knowing anything? That’s why they’re beginner classes.”

  “No, not just that, but to know people know I was a victim. That I allowed Zane to do the things he did. What if I can’t handle it? What if I am just too weak?”

  “No, Frankie, you aren’t too weak. You’re strong and a fighter. You fought to get free from him and you did it.”

  “But Clifton found us and even you thought that I led him to you.”

  “He made it look that way but it all worked out and you got free.”

  “How free am I really though? Zane is still out there and he’s resourceful and evil. You don’t know what he did. The things he said, the possessive way he controlled my mind and my body. I hate failing. I don’t want to be a loser.”

  “You aren’t going to be a loser. Men liked Clifton and Zane exist. You aren’t the only woman to be a victim of domestic violence and abuse. To be held against your will and controlled in every aspect of your life. I got out, you got out, and other women survive and get out too. That’s where our futures begin. Taking the next steps to have the new life we never thought we could have. You started, so get up in that saddle, girl, take the reins and go for it.”