Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (12 page)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A couple of hours later Trace was in the kitchen getting the pork and veggies ready for the grill. Sonny watched from the living room as Trace looked out the back door again. Meg had pulled one of the chairs over so she could prop her feet up on the deck railing. She was laughing and talking on her cell. Just then she held the phone up toward the waves for a few seconds then chattered excitedly after she had put it back to her ear.

“Man . . . you have it bad for her, don’t you, dude?” he asked Trace.

Trace jumped a little and looked over at Sonny sheepishly. He had forgotten he was even there. “Yep.”

Sonny stood up and walked over to sit on one of the bar stools across from where Trace was standing. He looked over his shoulder to where Meg was still on the phone. “Well, she
is
special, I’ll give you that.” He turned back to Trace with concern on his face. “What are you going to do when she has to leave?”

Trace shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ll just have to deal with it, I guess. Maybe cry,” he joked. But the joke fell flat.

“Would you ask her to stay?”

“No way. Her career is who she is. She would never ask me to give up the SEAL teams. We knew it was coming when we decided to get together.”

“What would your perfect ending be, McKenna? If you could have this go your way, what would happen?”

Trace grinned at him. “Okay . . . here’s a good old fashioned SEAL team ‘best case scenario’ . . . She’d give up her life of touring and stay here with me. She’d travel occasionally for special appearances so that she could still have that outlet. I don’t want her to give it up completely, but I’m selfish enough to want her with me most of the time.”

“Well. I guess you’ve thought about it, huh?”

“A little. But it is what it is and I hope we can at least try the long distance relationship thing.” He sighed, “It does seem really selfish of me, though. How can I ask her to spend her life worrying about me? It’s not like I have one of those jobs where I get home by six every night. She may decide this was a nice short-term distraction and, when she leaves, never look back.”

Trace picked up the meat and veggie platters and started around the bar toward the sliding door. Sonny jumped up to open it and stepped out onto the deck with him. Meg turned around and put her finger to her lips then pressed the speaker button on her phone holding it up so they could hear. A little voice was singing the
SpongeBob SquarePants
theme song, boisterously yelling
“SpongeBob SquarePants!”
after each line.

“That was awesome!” Meg gushed after she had finished.

“When you come I’ll teach you. When are you coming?” Meg’s niece, Aubri asked.

“Pretty soon.” She glanced over at the guys. “Well, sweetie, I have to go. You be good and help Mommy out. Okay?”

“Okay! Bye bye, Aunt Meg.”

“Bye! Love you!” She smacked a big kiss through the phone then disconnected.

She stood up putting her phone into the pocket of her shorts. Walking over to the grill with Trace and Sonny she asked, “What can I do to help? Make a salad or something?”

Trace was placing the meat carefully on the grill. “No, you have the day off. Sonny and I can handle everything.”

Sonny looked incredulously at Trace. “Um, yeah . . . sure . . . leave it all to us.” He leaned over toward Trace and said in a stage whisper, “Have you ever tasted anything I’ve cooked? Why do you think I show up on my friends’ doorsteps unannounced all the time?”

Meg smiled, “I’ll just keep you company then.” She turned her chair around to face them, sat down with her hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie and stretched her legs out in front of her with her ankles crossed, her feet bare.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Late that evening Meg and
Trace were avoiding going to bed. They had had a delicious dinner several hours earlier. Meg had peppered Trace and Sonny with questions about their experiences with the SEALs. She suspected Sonny’s stories, especially, had evolved into tall tales, but she was entertained anyway. They laughed until their sides ached and Sonny had gone home around eight o’clock after all the dishes had been cleaned up.

Meg was reclining on the couch with her legs draped over Trace’s lap and his feet were propped on the coffee table as they watched an old movie on a classic movie channel.

“Why are so many of these old black and white movies about beautiful women conning some poor, ordinary guy into killing their husbands for them? It’s like a theme or something.” He shook his head, “I liked Fred MacMurray way better in that old TV sitcom.”

“
My Three Sons
,” Meg threw in.

“Yeah. He was a lot more down to earth with more common sense in that show.” He shook his head, “Barbara Stanwyck is attractive enough I guess, but man . . . think with your
brain
, dude!”

“Now that I think about it, you’re right. There are a lot of old movies with this same theme. But you have to admit,
The Postman Always Rings Twice
is a great movie. I mean, Lana Turner and John Garfield . . . hot, hot, hot!”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“Oh, you have to see it! It’s awesome.”

He shifted so he was turned and leaning toward her resting on his elbow—faces closer together now. “What’s your favorite old, black and white movie?”

“That’s an easy one—
To Kill a Mockingbird
. It’s one of my favorite books too. Why can’t all men be like Atticus Finch?” She reached up and rubbed her fingers against the stubble on his jaw. “How ‘bout you? What’s your favorite old movie?”

“My favorite old movie isn’t in black in white—
The Dirty Dozen
.”

“Why am I not surprised? I’ve never seen that one . . .” Her eyes lit up. “Ooh! Ooh! I have a great idea! One of these evenings . . . maybe on Friday . . . let’s go to Blockbuster and I’ll rent
The Postman Always Rings Twice
and you’ll rent
The Dirty Dozen
. We’ll get some of those giant movie theater-sized boxes of candy and pop some popcorn and have movie night. It’ll be fun!”

“Junior Mints and Jujy Fruits,” he said with a grin.

“And Milk Duds!” She pinched his arm lightly. “And if you start to fall asleep while my movie is on I’ll pinch you awake and vice versa. We have to see each other’s entire movie. This is a . . .”

Just then Trace’s pager started beeping where it was resting on the coffee table by his feet. He leaned over and picked it up looking at the screen. His face sobered instantly.

Meg swung her legs to the floor and sat up. “What is it?”

Trace stood up and started toward the hall to his bedroom. “I have to call in.”

Their light-hearted mood instantly evaporated. In the two weeks Meg had been there that pager had stayed silent. She hadn’t even thought about it until now. She got up to take their soda cans to the kitchen recycling bin and tidy up the living room. As she was putting the last of the throw pillows into place Trace came back into the living room.

“What’s up?” Meg tried to smile at him.

“I have to go. They’re calling in the team.”

“What does that mean?”

“Something big has come up and we have to go take care of it. They won’t tell us much until we report to base.”

“Are you deploying then? Leaving the country?”

“Yeah . . . but not to the Middle East. I can’t really say any more and I don’t know much about it yet anyway.”

“No . . . of course not . . . I understand.” She stood in the middle of the room, wringing her hands. “When do you have to leave? I mean
, it’s almost midnight. Surely you don’t have to go until morning.”

“I have to be there in an hour. They’ll brief us and we’ll go wheels up, hopefully, by 0300.”

“Oh. Do you need help getting anything ready?”

Trace bolstered up a smile for her. “No, Meg. This happens sometimes so I pretty much have a routine. I’m just going to gather a few things and head out.” He walked
over to her and caressed her cheek. “Try not to worry. We’re professionals,” he joked then sobered. “We know what we’re doing. Okay?”

“Okay. I trust in you—and the other guys. But I can’t help but worry. I’m a worrier.”

“I said ‘
try
not to worry,’” he smiled.

He went back to his bedroom and started throwing some things into a bag. She could hear him moving around from where she sat on the edge of the recliner. When she heard the sound of him opening his gun safe she jumped up to go into the kitchen. She picked up the coffee pot and sniffed what was left of that morning’s coffee. It didn’t smell
too
stale so she poured some into a mug and heated it in the microwave. He came in with his bag as she was transferring it into a travel mug. She turned around and saw he had changed into his battle dress uniform.

Trace dropped his bag as she walked toward him with the coffee. She handed it to him and he leaned over to set it on the coffee table and reached for her.

“It’s not fresh,” she said as he put his arms around her waist. “Just heated up from this morning’s batch. Sorry.”

“Thanks, Meg. That’s great.” He gathered her close and held her as tight as he could.

She laid her check against the rough fabric of his uniform and breathed him in. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“I have no idea. It could be days or it could be weeks. I wish I could tell you more, but at this point no one knows.”

“That’s okay. I understand.” She leaned back and put her hands on both sides of his face staring into his eyes. “You be careful. Take care of yourself. Please.”

“Meg, I’ll have a bunch of guys around me watching my back just like I’ll be watching theirs.” He switched gears. “Now . . . you take care of yourself and be careful too.”

She said wryly, “Don’t turn this back on me. I’ll be fine here. Just missing you is all.”

He leaned down to kiss her. It was more intense than they’d let themselves get before. Her lips parted and he groaned as he angled his head toward her. Just as he started to pull away she nipped his bottom lip.

With his eyes still closed, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “It’s never been this hard to leave before.” He opened his eyes to look into hers. “I have to go.”

She pulled out of his arms and he bent over to pick up his bag and coffee mug. As he was turning to leave she stopped him with her hand on his arm. “Hey, we’re still on for that movie night.” She smiled bravely to reassure him and stretched up to kiss his cheek.

Trace smiled back at her. “We’ll just reschedule.” Then he turned and stepped out the door.

She watched out the living room window until he drove out of sight then checked to make sure all the doors were locked. She turned out the lights and got ready for bed. She lay in bed and prayed for a good long time before she drifted off to sleep.

Around two thirty she woke to the sound of The Cure’s
Just Like Heaven
and it took her a few moments to realize it was her cell’s ring tone. She fumbled around in the dark finally locating it on the desk beside the bed.

“Hello?” she said groggily.

“Meg? I’m really sorry to wake you, but we’re just getting ready to board the plane and I wanted to check on you. Are you okay?”

She jackknifed to a sitting position. “Trace?” She
fumbled until she could find the lamp and switch it on.

She heard him chuckle. “Yeah. Who else would it be?”

She grinned. “No one.” Then she sobered when it hit her. “So you’re taking off now.”

“Yeah. Pretty soon. Listen . . . I don’t have much time, but I wanted to tell you something. Do you have pen?”

She glanced around until she found one on the desk and grabbed a gas receipt, flipping it over and poising the pen over it. “Yeah, got it.”

“Write this down,” he said,
then fired off a phone number. “That’s my friend, Bryan Sykes. He lives here on base. If you need anything . . . if there’s any trouble at the house . . . plumbing, whatever . . . just call Bryan. He said he could take care of anything you need. He’s a good guy.”

“Okay . . . But, Trace, you’re not going to spend all your time worrying about me, are you?”

“No. I’m a guy. I can compartmentalize,” he snickered. “Plus I have that specialized SEAL training to keep me focused.”

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m new to this.”

He sobered right up. “I know, babe. I’m sorry to put you through this. There’s one other thing I wanted to tell you. I sent a quick email to you with the phone numbers of some of the team wives. Trish sent me a message through JoJo reminding me that you
are
new to this and they’ve all been through it before. She wants you to call them if you need anything—or even if you just want to talk. I’m sure they’ll be checking in with you too.”

“That’s really sweet of her to be thinking of me when her husband is shipping out. Like she doesn’t have enough to worry about.” She decided to use her brave, independent woman voice. “Okay, Trace. Don’t worry about
me, I’m going to be fine. I’ll be so busy it’ll help keep my mind off things. But I’ll be praying for you . . . for all of you . . . constantly.”