Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (6 page)

“I’m so glad to hear it. I know how much you miss that.”

“I try to keep up with devotionals and stuff. I really like this new one you suggested. I’m getting a lot out of it.”

“So things are going well for you there. Trace seems nice, huh?”

“Yes, Mom. What exactly are you asking?” Meg rolled her eyes. Sheila Conlan was always hoping her daughter would find someone and settle down. She knew that wasn’t an easy thing to do for someone with Meg’s career and lifestyle.

“Nothing at all. Don’t get defensive.” She quickly changed the subject. “I’m so glad you’re happy at the Institute for a while. Maybe staying in one place will let you recharge your batteries—both mentally and creatively.”

“I’m feeling more charged already,” Meg laughed. “So are you all packed and ready to go?”

“We’ll fly out of O’Hare tonight—the redeye—and get into Charleston a few hours before it’s time to board the ship. We’ll stop for a leisurely breakfast to kill time and then head over to the dock. It’ll be a nice week-long trip through the Bahamas. We may even stay in Charleston for a couple of days after the cruise. I’ve always wanted to tour the plantations down there. We’ll just have to see how tired we are after the cruise.”

“That’s great. Hope you have a wonderful time. Call when you get a chance so I don’t worry about you.”

Sheila laughed, “No need to worry. We’ll be having fun.”

“Kiss Daddy for me,” Meg said. “Love you both!”

“Love you too, sweetie. Bye!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Okay . . . I’m going to jump
up and, whatever you do, don’t throw me completely across the room. I don’t want to go through the glass doors. Just
simulate
the throw,” Meg said.

Then he heard laughter.
What the
. . . Trace thought as he came through the kitchen door from the carport. “Yeah, please don’t be throwing anyone through the glass doors. What a mess that would be,” he said wryly.

Meg and Sean turned around mid-laugh to see Trace standing in the kitchen. He dropped his gear in the middle of the floor. They had pushed all of the living room furniture to the edges of the room—as much as the small space would allow—and were crouched face to face in the center of the room. Sean had one hand gripping her waist and the other her right hand.

“You’re back,” Sean said as he straightened up.

“Yep. Don’t let me interrupt.”

“That’s okay. We’ve been at it for a couple of hours.” Sean looked at Meg. “I think we’re close to getting this one worked out, don’t you?”

“Yeah. That’s enough for today. We’ll do some fine-tuning tomorrow. Actually, we’ll probably be fine-tuning up until show time.”

“That’s always the way it goes. I’m going to get this furniture moved back into place, then jump into the shower. I told Steffy I’d try to make it over to see her tonight when we got done.”

Meg was walking toward Trace in the kitchen. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes when Sean mentioned Steffy’s name. “Are you hungry? I made a roast with all the fixin’s. I have a plate warming in the oven for you.”

“It smells amazing. I could eat,” he replied. He watched her as she pulled the foil-covered plate out of the oven. She looked cute in her yoga pants and dance top. “I can get that.”

“Oh! I know . . . sorry.” She seemed a little embarrassed.

Trace sat down at the bar and she slid the plate across to him. “This looks great. Thank you.”

“I hope it didn’t dry out in the oven,” she said as she pulled a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. “I sweetened the tea before I realized you might not like it sweetened. Sean and I both take it that way. Sorry.”

“No, that works for me too.” He walked around the bar to grab a glass off the drain board and took the pitcher out of her hand so she would stop waiting on him.

He sat back down to eat. “This is great. Thanks again.”

“No problem. It was fun. Sean and I ate earlier. I guess I’ll go clean up and change. I need to make some notes about the new routine we were working on.” Meg kind of sidled out of the room.

Trace wondered why she seemed so nervous—kind of like when they had first met last week. Did he still have on some of that camouflage face paint from the exercise? He could have sworn he’d wiped it all off. He knew he needed a shower—maybe that was it. He scarfed down his dinner and thought he probably should have savored it a little more. It tasted so good, but he was starving. When he finished, he peeked in the refrigerator and saw there were leftovers and mentally let out a cheer. He could take his time and savor it tomorrow. He poured himself some more tea and washed up his plate and utensils, then grabbed his gear so he could take it back to his bedroom and get unpacked and showered.

When he entered his bedroom he found neatly stacked piles of laundry on his dresser. She had washed his clothes—including his underwear? When she told him she was doing her laundry over the weekend he hadn’t told her to leave his alone. He hadn’t thought he would have to. He dropped his bag on the floor and walked back down the hall toward her room. When had it become “her” room? It was the guest room.

Trace knocked on the door. “Hey, Meg?”

“Just a minute.” After a few seconds her door opened. “Yes?”

“Um . . . I really appreciate dinner and everything. And the house looks great—cleaner than when I left. But . . . you don’t have to do these things. I just found my laundry on the dresser. While I appreciate the thought, you really shouldn’t have done that.”

Meg looked stricken. “Oh! Did I overstep? It’s just that I like to cook and never have the chance so . . . and the laundry . . . I was doing mine and it wasn’t adding up to full loads, so I just thought . . . I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it . . .”

“No, no, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to come in here and think you have to work off your stay. I wasn’t expecting it. Just . . .”

“I understand. I know you’re used to living alone and I’m sure you have these boundaries and I don’t want to cross those . . .”

“It’s okay. Forget I said anything. Well . . . I’m going to . . .” he gestured vaguely down the hallway.

“Good night,” she said in small voice and closed the door.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Meg sat slumped on the deck steps the next morning holding her coffee mug between her knees. She rubbed her forehead with one hand and wished her headache away. She hadn’t slept much the night before and felt sluggish. She was such a dork—she had overstepped her bounds with Trace. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she knew as soon as he’d walked in the door how much trouble she was in. She liked him way too much. The air had changed as soon as he was in the room with her. When had she felt this way last? Maybe never.

But he looked so strong and handsome—capable of doing anything. He wouldn’t need someone like her around. Yeah, her heart was going to be broken and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She just hoped she could hide her true feelings from him so at least her pride wouldn’t be hurt.

The back door slid open and her back stiffened. She felt, more than heard, his footsteps coming toward her. A shadow fell over her and then he was sitting beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. She couldn’t look at him.

“Hey, Meg. You okay?”

She gave herself a swift kick—mentally—and looked into his face. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. You?”

“Look, I apologize for last night. I want to thank you for dinner, the clean house
and
the laundry. I don’t know why I made such a big deal out of it.” He shot her a wry look. “Forgive me?”

Meg blew out a breath. “There’s nothing to forgive. I know I’m ‘playing house’ here and I shouldn’t do that. I can understand your freaking out a little about that. This is your nest and here I come pretending it’s mine and that’s not right. Sorry. I’ll try to be more sensitive about it.”

Trace stared into her eyes for a long moment and seemed to make a decision. “Meg, I’m going to be honest with you. Then you need to be honest with me.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m scared I’m going to get too used to your being here. I’m enjoying it maybe too much. It might get . . . I don’t know . . . a little tricky for me to say goodbye when the time comes.”

Meg was stunned. “You mean . . . maybe you’re developing feelings . . . or . . . you might like having a roommate . . . friend . . . What
exactly
are you saying, Trace?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m saying I like you.
Really
like you. And I know you’re going to leave in a few weeks—you have an important career. I can’t compete with that, but my heart’s involved already.” He stared out over the water. “Just be honest with me. If you’re not feeling the same way, tell me. We can go back to being friends and pretend we never had this conversation.”

“You could do that? Go back to being friends if I don’t feel the same way? ‘Cause I don’t think I can. I’ve been fretting over you all weekend—worrying about how I think I’m starting to care about you differently than you care about me.”

Trace swung his head around to look into her eyes. There it was. He was seeing what he hoped to see—the same thing he saw in his own eyes in the mirror. “Really?” He could barely get the word out.

“Yeah. I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. Maybe never. What should we do?”

Trace laced his fingers with hers. “Let’s just see how it plays out. Take it slow. If it ends when it’s time for you to go, we’ll deal with it. If both of us can’t bear for it to end, we’ll work through it the best we can. No pressure from either of us. Okay?”

“Okay.” She finally smiled. “No pressure. Nice and easy and slow.”

He studied her for a minute. “You look tired.”

Meg winced, “Thanks a lot. Up until that point this was a really romantic moment.”

“Sorry, no offense.” He looked chagrined.

“I didn’t sleep much last night. I was worried I had completely turned you off and you’d want nothing to do with me.”

“No, I just panicked.”

They sat in silence for a while and watched the seagulls diving over the water. “Big day today?” Trace asked.

“Just starting a new three-day workshop series—we finished the first one Friday. Also going to work on the showcase. We have to really get it nailed down and decide which students will perform and what genres we want to represent. Time’s ticking. How about you?”

“No, just an ordinary day at the office.”

“Ha ha! That’s funny!” She bumped her shoulder into his. “You said something a minute ago . . . about my having an important career. How can someone like you—who really
has
an important career—say that to someone like me?”

“You don’t think your career is important?” He was really surprised.

“Well, compared to what you guys do, no. It’s kind of frivolous when you think about it. I get respect in my own field, I guess, but I wouldn’t say it was that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.”

“Well, you’d be wrong. What you and Sean—and all artists—do is really important. You bring beauty to the world. And we all need beauty in the world. Guys like me see too much ugliness.”

Meg reached up to rub his furrowed brow with her thumb. “Thank you.” She was really touched. “It’s for sure that you guys—all of our military—make it possible for us to share our art with the world. You give us that freedom. I don’t think you get enough credit for that.”

Trace tightened his hand around hers, stood up, and pulled her to her feet. He slid his arms around her. “I’ve gotta get going. Hate to leave you today, though.” He laid his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes.

“Me too.” She smiled impishly up at him. “Good talk. I’m glad we cleared the air.”

“My pleasure. And a huge relief.” He stepped back and started up the steps pulling her after him.

Meg’s cell phone rang and she dropped Trace’s hand to dig it out of her sweater pocket. “Hey, Mom. Have you landed?”

Trace heard the faint voice on the other end say, “I hope I’m not calling too early—I know there’s a three-hour time difference. Am I waking you up?”

“Not at all. I’ve been up for a while.” Meg shot a rueful look at Trace and thought,
all night really
.

“We’re in Charleston. We landed about a half hour ago and—miracle of miracles—all of our bags made it!”

Meg laughed, “That’s great, Mom. What’s next?”

“We’re going for our leisurely brunch and then we can start boarding the ship at noon—nine o’clock your time. I think we set sail around four.”

“I’m jealous!”

Sheila laughed, “No, you’re not. Okay, honey, Daddy has the taxi loaded up so I have to go. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine and I’ll stay in touch. Love you!”

“Love you too, Mom. Kiss Daddy for me and have a great time.” She disconnected and looked over at Trace where he had stopped by the door watching her.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, my parents are setting out on a cruise to the Bahamas today and were just checking in to let me know they made it to Charleston okay. Sorry ‘bout that.”