Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (25 page)

Sonny didn’t say anything and Trace raised his eyebrow. “Don’t want to talk about it, huh?”

“Nothing to say,” he answered as he shifted in his seat. “It was fun.
Dinner . . . no big deal. Let’s change the subject.” He cast around looking for something else to say. “I saw Meg when I went to pick her up.” He looked appalled as he realized he had said the exact wrong thing the second it was coming out of his mouth. He looked at Trace’s face, which had turned to stone.

Even Charley, who was not the most sensitive guy on the planet, could feel the tension. He glanced over at Titus who jumped in and saved the day by saying, “Hey, the table’s free. Let’s shoot some pool, McKenna.”

He stood up to follow Titus and watched him rack the balls. Charley looked over at Sonny in relief.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

By the time Thanksgiving week
rolled around, Meg had completely reinvented her life. She and her mother had found a cute little townhouse in an affordable gated complex. It wasn’t as close to the SDDI as Tobi’s place, but it wasn’t
too
much further away. Her favorite part was that it was near the beach. Not on the beach, but only a couple of blocks away. It was easy to get to and she could smell the ocean air from the postage stamp-sized balcony off her bedroom. They had a lot of fun shopping for furniture. She didn’t have to worry about kitchen appliances, because those came with the apartment.

Her parents insisted on buying her bedroom furniture, even as she tried to stop them. “We bought Maura and Keith’s bedroom furniture for them when they got married and set up housekeeping together. This is something we want to do for you too,” Sheila had insisted. “We’re doing this, so you may as well save your breath.”

Meg had finally given in. They found a beautiful iron bed with slightly distressed ivory paint and four towering bedposts. The ceilings in the townhouse were nice and high, so the proportions of the bed and armoire were perfect. They finished it off with a dresser and bedside tables to match the armoire, which was stained the soft gray color of driftwood. It was a beautiful, feminine room decorated in the colors of a muted sunset over the ocean.

The living and dining room areas carried the beach cottage theme with beautiful comfy club chairs and a sofa upholstered in clean stripes of turquoise, cream and bright greens and
white washed tables. There were large windows that let in lots of light. She enjoyed every minute of making her little house her own and she smiled every time she walked through the front door.

One of the first things she did after her living arrangements were settled was to meet with one of the ministers at Bayside Christian Church. She went in to find out how she could become a member of the church and what that entailed. She left with a membership and a list of the church’s ministry opportunities and was encouraged to pick out some activities to join.

A few days later she had received a call from Sara, a young mother at the church, who was involved in the drama ministry there. She was interested in starting a program for elementary school-age girls—a worship dance group. The worship minister had told her about Meg and her special talents. Would Meg be interested in helping out in this new program? She jumped at the chance and arranged to meet with Sara and a couple of others who were trying to get the group off the ground. Meg, Sara and Brittany—a cute teen who was on her high school’s dance team, met at a coffee shop near the church. The children’s minister, Brent, joined them to oversee their initial plans. The church leadership would, of course, have to give their stamp of approval before they got started.

All in all, Meg was happy with the way her life was settling in. She was putting down roots . . . professionally and personally. She had her friends from the Institute and, even though she hadn’t officially started work there yet, she spent a lot of time with them. She was getting to know her new city, working on the church project, and trying to plan out her first semester at the Institute.

She was so busy, she almost didn’t have time to miss Trace. Almost. No matter how tired she was, in the dark of night he crept back into her mind . . . and her heart. She resisted the urge to reach out to him, and never gave into the temptation to ask Tobi if Sonny ever mentioned his name.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Meg let herself into her
townhouse, dragging her bags behind her. She dropped everything and slumped against the door. How come you always ended up bringing so much more stuff home after a Christmas trip than you left with? It was a few days after the New Year and she had spent a fun-filled two weeks with her family. Maura had had the baby, little Riley, the day before Meg arrived for the holiday. He was beautiful and Aunt Meg got in lots of snuggling time with both him and Aubri.

She picked up two of her bags and carried them toward the stairs to stash them in her bedroom as the doorbell rang. She dropped them again and went back to answer the door.

Tobi stepped in, looked around at the bags and asked, “Are you just getting home?”

“Yeah, my flight was delayed a few hours. There’s a snowstorm up north somewhere and it’s messing with
everyone’s
flights. Could’ve been worse, I guess.”

“You look tired. I should have called first, but I was bored so I thought I’d just drop in and see if you wanted to order in dinner.”

“I do. I’ve been gone so long, I can’t remember what’s in my ‘fridge or my pantry. Probably not much.” She grabbed one of her smaller bags, zipped it open and started digging around in it. “My mom sent you something. Where is . . . oh! Here it is!” She pulled out a fancy jar with a ribbon tied around it, the bow crushed from the trip. She handed it to Tobi.

Tobi held it up in front of her face and turned it around, studying it. “It’s pretty. What is it? Dyed sand?” she asked.

Meg took it from her and pulled the cork top off. She held it up for Tobi to smell. “They’re bath salts.” She rolled her eyes. “Mom found a recipe for how to make your own bath salts on the Internet. I swear, every time someone walked in the house she handed a jar to them. I don’t even want to
see
the closet where she has them all stashed. She must have made tons!”

Tobi sniffed at it gingerly. “It smells nice, but I can’t really identify the scent.”

Meg nodded. “I know! Right?”

They both laughed and Tobi put the lid back on. “It matches my bathroom. That’s nice.”

She set the jar down and picked up a bag and followed Meg, who had grabbed the rest, up the stairs. They dropped the luggage on her bed and trooped down to the kitchen to search for Meg’s carryout menus. They decided on Chinese and called in the order, then sat down to wait and catch up.

“Now that I’ve finished torturing you with my sweet new nephew and adorable niece photos . . . what’s going on with you, Tobi?” Meg asked, stuffing the photos back into the envelope.

“Not much,” she said, toying with the short fringe on a throw pillow. “Sonny and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

Meg sat forward on the couch, searching Tobi’s face. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Tobi. Are you okay?”

Tobi waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. We weren’t serious or anything . . . Not like you and ‘He Who Must Not Be Named.’ We were just having fun. It was time for it to end.” She decided to change the subject. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

“Unpacking . . . laundry . . . pack up the Christmas decorations and put them away . . . officially start my new life . . .” Meg raised her arms over her head and stretched. “I’m looking forward to that. Next Monday we can get in to our studios, right? Start setting things up?”

Tobi nodded and stood up to answer the door and pay the delivery guy for their dinner. She brought the food over to the dining room table and they dug in. “What else is new, Meg?”

“I talked to Sean while I was away. He called.”

“How did that go?”

“Good. He had big news. Get this . . . he’s going to be working on Naima’s next concert tour.”

“Naima . . . she’s that hot new R&B singer! What’s he doing? Backup dancer?”

“No! Choreographer! Isn’t that great? They’re doing all the show prep up in LA. He hadn’t heard about my plans and wanted to know if I wanted to come in and dance on the tour . . . assist him with the choreography too.” Meg pushed back from the table to reach behind her for more napkins. “I thought it was really nice of him to reach out to me, but I told him I had a good job lined up here.”

“What did he have to say about that?”

“I think he was happy to hear it. He knew I was tired of the travel. I did, however, ask him to keep me in mind if anything comes up during our semester breaks,” Meg added.

Tobi shook her head. “I just can’t believe he thought you might want to work with him and Steffy.”

Meg dropped her chopsticks and grabbed Tobi’s hand. “Oh my gosh! You haven’t heard! When was the last time you talked to Anthony?”

Tobi looked baffled. “I haven’t talked to him in over a week. What?! Tell me!”

“The scuttlebutt from Steffy’s TA buddies is that Sean dumped her back in November and she moved out to Vegas. Signed on as a showgirl at Bally’s . . . or was it the Tropicana?” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, well . . . it doesn’t matter. Can you believe it?” she asked Tobi.

“Yeah . . . that sounds about right. It doesn’t surprise me a bit.” They both burst out laughing.

“Well, regardless . . . Sean sounds like his old self and he’s back on his feet again. I’m glad.” Meg picked up her chopsticks and carton and dug in again.

“You’re a better man than I am, Meg,” Tobi replied.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The soft, mid-February morning
light crept into Trace’s bedroom as he rolled over, and felt around the bedside table for his phone with his eyes still closed. What time was it and who could be calling him this early? They had returned from a six-week deployment to Afghanistan late the night before and he needed a
lot
more sleep.

“What?” he asked, his voice still sleep-roughened. He slung his free arm over his still-closed eyes.

Silence. Then, “Trace, honey?”

His eyes flew open and he sat up pushing his pillow behind him to lean back against the headboard. “Oh, Mom. Sorry.”

“I’m so sorry, Trace. I guess it’s still pretty early there, huh? Go back to sleep and I’ll call back later.”

“No, no, Mom. It’s fine. How are you doing?” He stifled a yawn and hoped she didn’t hear it.

“I knew you were supposed to get back last night and I’ve been so worried. I just wanted to hear your voice. Are you home?”

“Safe and sound and sleeping in my own bed. Praise the Lord!” he answered.

“Praise the Lord, indeed!” This had been a rough trip, she knew. He never said much about the missions in his emails while he was out in the field. But over the years she had learned to listen to what he didn’t say. There had been a lot in the news here at home about escalated violence by the Taliban in the last couple of months. She knew he must be in the thick of it . . . tracking down intelligence up in the mountains where all that senseless violence was born and bred.

Trace’s team had been sent in to help find the terrorists up in those mountains and bring back documentation that they were where they were suspected of being before the big guns could go in a take them out. The teams that were already in country were working as hard as they could, but it was a lot of ground to cover and they needed more boots on the ground so they could cover even more of it. They had worked with other SEAL teams, as well as Spec Ops from other branches of the military.

At one point Trace and Gomez had been caught between three groups of Taliban who moved in and encamped before they were able to extract from their location. It was two days of lying perfectly still, hidden in one place six feet apart. They couldn’t move or speak . . . or even see one another that whole time. The Taliban finally withdrew, never even knowing they had two US Navy SEALs right in their midst. Trace and Gomez came back with some beautiful photos and audio, though. The Taliban could be pretty chatty when they thought they were alone.

After some of the threat died down, Trace’s team was sent back home. It was a tough trip and they were relieved to get a little break before going back out to do their jobs again.

“How are things with you, Mom? Haven’t been worrying too much, I hope,” he teased.

“You know me. I’m a worrier.” Claire said.

He sighed, “I know. I wish you wouldn’t. We take care of each other out there.”

“So everyone made it back, then?”

“The whole team. We’re fine . . . just tired.”

“I’ll let you go. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Wait! You never told me how you and Michael are doing. Have you talked to Sean?”

“We’re great.
Even better now that you’re home. Sean is doing great too, ever since he got rid of that girl. He’s got a great job in LA, choreographing and staging a concert tour for some R&B singer . . . I can’t pronounce her name, but I understand she’s a big deal.”