Mended Hearts (New Beginnings Series) Page 11

  “Will you go out with me?” He looked a little embarrassed. “Like on a date.”

  “Oh! Um . . . sure. My time is pretty limited, though. You know—working nights most of the week.”

  “We could go out on Sunday.” He leaned forward. “I can pick you up for lunch and then we could go Balboa Park. We can find one of the museums you might be interested in seeing and spend the afternoon. It’ll be fun.”

  “Will you be able to handle that on your knee? I don’t want you to over do it.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll rest up tonight and tomorrow. If it gets to be too much I’ll let you know.” With his index finger he drew a cross over his heart. “I promise.”

  “Well . . . I get to pick the museum,” she grinned. “You can’t whine and complain about it if you don’t like it, either.”

  He grinned back at her. “That goes without saying.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Sonny walked up the sidewalk toward Gracie’s apartment house whistling tunelessly under his breath. He stopped when he heard singing coming from around the corner. He’d know that voice anywhere. Walking past the sidewalk leading up to the front door, he peeked around the corner, up the side of the house. Gracie sat on the top of two steps at the back corner, in front of an open door, strumming on a guitar and singing. Worshipping, he realized, as he recognized the words she sang. “Blessed be Your name, when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, blessed be Your name. Every blessing You pour out I'll turn back to praise. When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say, blessed be the name of the Lord, blessed be Your name.” He stood back and listened, not wanting to interrupt, but before long she must have sensed he was there.

  Gracie looked over at him and jumped a little. “Oh! How long have you been standing there?” She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry. I guess I lost track of time.”

  Sonny moved closer. “That’s okay. I’m sorry I interrupted.” He sat down next to her. “Having your own private worship service, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So if I hadn’t interrupted, would you have sung another one?” he asked.

  “Probably.” She looked a little puzzled.

  “Which one? What would you have sung next?”

  She smiled a little. “Well, this one popped into my head while I was singing the last one.” She started strumming the guitar. “Do you know this?” she asked, and then started to sing the chorus of Wonderful Maker. “What a wonderful Maker. What a wonderful Savior. How majestic Your whispers and how humble Your love. With a strength like no other and the heart of a Father, how majestic Your whispers. What a wonderful God.”

  After she had sung through the entire song, Sonny said, “That was beautiful, angel.”

  “Thank you.” Gracie stood up and picked up her coffee cup, turning to walk through the door.

  Sonny realized it led into the kitchen area of her apartment when she motioned him to follow her. He watched as she locked the door behind him and then placed the guitar on a stand in the living area. She looked cute in a casual scarf-printed dress with kimono sleeves in blues and beiges. The hem hit a few inches above her knees and she’d pulled on sand-colored suede Ugg-style boots.

  “Do you want some coffee before we go?” she offered.

  “No, thanks. I’m ready to go if you are.”

  “Sure.” She grabbed a cloth shoulder bag, slung the strap over her head to cross over her chest and pushed it back to bump against the small of her back. She turned to grin at him. “Ready!” she chirped.

  He hobbled toward her to kiss her hello—a little belatedly. “I missed you the last couple of days.”

  She smiled. “Me too.”

  Sonny led her out to his truck. After he had helped her inside, she watched him walk around the front of the truck toward the driver’s side. He looked good, she thought. But he always did. He was casually dressed in jeans and a brown button-down shirt—some kind of grunged-out eagle design screen-printed in a darker brown over one shoulder and halfway down a sleeve. He’d rolled the sleeves up to just below his elbows and hadn’t tucked it in, leaving the tails hanging out over his hips. His hair hung around his face as he looked down, carefully picking his way over the pavement. When he opened the door, though, he looked up into her eyes, giving her the full power of his beautiful amber eyes. A smile bloomed over his face and the cab of the truck seemed to warm up as he slid inside.

  “I picked up box lunches and thought we could go to one of the beach side parks to picnic before hitting the museums. Okay?”

  “That sounds fun. What did you get?”

  “Um . . . I got one with a chicken salad sandwich . . . and one with a turkey avocado sandwich. There are chips and stuff too. What sounds good to you?” he asked.

  “You’re going to let me have first pick?” Sonny nodded and she said, “You’re going to spoil me—letting me pick lunch and the museum.”

  He pulled up to a stoplight and turned to look her in the eyes. He said seriously, “I have a feeling you haven’t been spoiled enough in your life.”

  She looked amused. “I think Matty would disagree with you.”

  “I’m not talking about your family.”

  “Oh.” Gracie couldn’t think of a thing to say. So she steered the conversation back to safer ground. “Chicken salad.”

  Sonny looked confused for a quick second, then smiled at her. “That’s what I thought. I took you for a chicken salad kind of girl.

  “What does that mean?” She twisted toward him—as much as her seatbelt would allow.

  “You’re a girly-girl. In my experience, girly-girls always love a good chicken salad.”

  “Your vast experience?” she laughed.

  “My vast scientific research has proven it.” He said in mock-seriousness.

  “So I’m just a test subject to you, then?”

  “Time will tell.”

  They found a park that didn’t look too crowded for a late Sunday morning—it was still a little before noon. There was a free picnic table next to the beach and they spread out on one side of it, so they could watch the water as they ate.

  Gracie had just finished her lunch, and was watching Sonny watch the seagulls over the water. “So tell me, Luca . . . how did a mountain-dwelling Romanian gypsy end up joining the Navy?” she laughed.

  He smiled at her. “Seems odd, doesn’t it?” He seemed to mull that over. “I’ve always loved the ocean. I remember going on camping trips with your family at the shore a couple of times when I was really young.” He sighed. “I know my mother was a hippie my dad met in San Francisco. I always wondered about her family, though. Maybe she came from surfer stock or something. My love of the ocean seems genetic and I know that didn’t come from Gran and Gramps.”

  “You don’t know anything about your mother’s side of the family?” She looked embarrassed. “Sorry. You don’t have to talk about that. That was rude.”

  Sonny turned toward her, straddling the bench, and tucked a strand of blowing hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. No, I don’t really know much. She lived in San Francisco, but I don’t know where she came from before that. I’m not even sure she and my dad ever married. They both had issues with drugs. When I was taken away from them, at least my dad asked the authorities to contact my grandparents. Even if he didn’t give me anything else, at least he gave me them. I am grateful for that.” He picked up her hand, toying with the lacy silver ring on her middle finger. “I remember watching your family from a really young age and thinking, ‘so that’s what a normal family looks like.’ It’s not that I was unhappy with Gran and Gramps. They had so much love . . . I was happy with them. But your world was a lot different than mine. When I was about ten, I guess, I wondered why I wasn’t jealous of Mathias. Then I realized it was because your parents treated me like I was one of you whenever I came around. If I ever had that longing for a mother, I could come over there and she would run her fingers through my hair as I dashed with
Mathias through the kitchen, scolding us for tracking mud across the floor. She made us stop and mop that floor more than once. And your dad would wrestle with me on the living room floor. Gramps was too old for that, but I never had to miss it. Know what I mean?”

  Gracie nodded. “You should go up and visit them. They’d really love to see you.”

  “Think so?” he mused. “I’d like to see them too.”

  “Do you ever think about trying to find your parents? If they’re still . . .” she trailed off.

  “No. I’ve never felt the need or the desire.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I’ve always had the ability to find and make my own family . . . wherever I end up. Another gift your family gave me.”

  Gracie started gathering up their trash and walked it over to a nearby trashcan. When she moved behind him, she laid her hands on his shoulders. “We should walk the pier, if you’re feeling up to it. We could watch the fishermen for a while.”

  Sonny stood up to make his way to the nearby pier with her. They found a bench about halfway down and sat for a while enjoying the soft ocean breeze and the sun.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  After several hours at the San Diego Museum of Art, Sonny and Gracie were heading toward the front entrance. It had been a fun and interesting day, and Sonny didn’t seem too disappointed that she’d chosen art over the natural history museum. He knew she took a lot more breaks and sat on a lot more benches than she would have if she hadn’t been so concerned about him stressing his knee too much. She also pretended she preferred to take the elevators instead of the stairs—which would have gotten them around the museum quicker.

  Gracie was teasing him about his reaction to some of the more creative modern art pieces as they walked toward his truck. His phone rang and he checked the caller display.

  “It’s McKenna,” he said, looking back up at her. “Haven’t heard from him since we saw him Friday morning. He must have finally come up for air,” he laughed.

  “Luca!” Gracie swatted at him.

  “Hey! McKenna!”

  Gracie couldn’t hear Trace’s side of the conversation—just Sonny’s.

  “I’m at Balboa Park . . . No . . . Well, I’ve got Gracie with me . . . Oh . . . Okay . . . I’ll ask her.” He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Gracie, McKenna and Meg are going to the Hideaway for steamed crabs. They want us to meet them there. Do you feel like going?”

  “I’m sure Trace wants to catch up with you. I don’t want to horn in. Is it out of your way to drop me at home?”

  Sonny tweaked a strand of the hair that fringed around her face. “Oh, come on,” he wheedled. “Please come. I really want you to and he wants to scope you out.” He hurriedly added, “But don’t let that scare you away.”

  She could tell he wished he could have taken those words back the second they left his lips. She laughed. “Okay. Let’s go eat steamed crabs with the McKennas.”

  He put the phone back to his ear. “Okay, we’re on our way.”

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Gracie gota little nervous when they pulled into the crushed shell parking area beside a good-sized shack on the beach.“Hideaway” was painted crudely over the door and the place looked like a dive. She put on a brave face, telling herself that Sonny wouldn’t take her anywhere dangerous. They walked through the door into a large room, with rough mismatched tables and chairs, a well-used bar with a scarred top, and The Black Crowes’ Remedy blasting over the speakers.

  “Sonny! Sugar! Where you been?” A middle-aged woman with bleach-fried hair, wearing tight jeans and an even tighter black Harley-Davidson tank top rushed toward them. She threw her arms around Sonny’s neck.

  “Hey, Sissy. How’re you doin’?” Sonny laughed.

  “Same ol’, same ol’,” she rolled her eyes, and then gave Gracie her full attention, looking her up and down—blatantly. “What do we have here? Don’t believe you’ve ever brought one of these around here before,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Sonny laughed. “Didn’t want to make you jealous, Sissy.”

  “But this one’s worth it, huh?” Sissy asked, the twinkle in her eye growing even brighter.

  “Yep. Sorry. Sissy, this is Gracie . . . Gracie . . . Sissy—best bar waitress in southern California. Including Savannah’s,” he added.

  Sissy looked Gracie over again. “Oh, do you work at Savannah’s?”

  “Kind of,” Gracie answered. “I sing there.”

  Sissy grumbled, “I keep telling Sparks we need to get live entertainment in here. That old man won’t listen to nobody, though—control freak with his programmed music.” She looked over at Sonny. “She any good?”

  “She’s a lot better than good. She’s great. The whole band is.”

  Sissy grumbled a little more about her ignorant boyfriend, who was also the Hideaway’s owner. Finally she said, “Trace and Meg’s table is over there. They’re on the dance floor. Go on over and sit. What can I bring you to drink?”

  Sonny raised his eyebrow at Gracie, who said, “Diet Coke. Thanks.”

  “I’ll take a Corona. Thanks, Sissy.”

  They made their way over to the table, took the seats on the vacant side and watched the beautiful couple on the dance floor. There were a few other pairs out there, but they couldn’t compete with the McKennas. Of course, Meg was a professional—not that she was showing that off—but Trace could really hold his own too. After the song ended, Meg noticed the other couple at the table and she and Trace headed over, hand in hand.

  “Hey!” She skirted around to their side and brushed her lips across both Sonny’s and Gracie’s cheeks. “What’ve you two been up to today?” She sat down and Trace pulled his chair close to hers.

  “We were at the art museum at Balboa,” Sonny answered. He glanced at Trace, waiting to be ragged on, but it didn’t come. All the guys ribbed each other about everything, so it kind of put him off, when Trace didn’t take advantage of the information.

  “Oh, that sounds fun. I love that place,” Meg bubbled. “How are you, Gracie?”

  “Fine, thanks. You?” Gracie grinned. “I don’t think you need to answer that,” she said, glancing shyly at Trace.

  “You haven’t met Gracie yet, have you, Trace? Trace, this is Sonny’s friend, Gracie. Gracie . . . Trace.”

  Trace smiled and nodded at her. “Nice to meet you, Gracie. Heard a lot about you.”

  Gracie blushed. “Oh. Nice to meet you too.” She looked uncertainly at Sonny.

  “I get it now,” Sonny teased Meg. “I know why you’re so happy to have Gracie around. You were the last one.”

  Gracie looked confused and Meg looked a little embarrassed. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m happy to have Gracie around because I like her. But mostly because you like her.”

  “I know that. But you have to admit, you didn’t enjoy being the subject of all the curiosity when you first got involved with McKenna.”

  Trace chuckled, “He’s got a point, babe.”

  Meg looked stricken and reached out to lay her hand over Gracie’s. “Oh, Gracie. I’m so sorry! Have we made you feel uncomfortable? We’d never want to do that. It’s just . . . we all love Sonny so much and . . .”

  Gracie squeezed Meg’s fingers. “It’s fine. You’ve been very nice. You all have.”

  “I’ll see if I can get the girls to lay off the gossip a little.”

  “No! Don’t do that. I don’t want them to think I . . . I don’t like them or anything—That I’m stuck up or something. It’s fine.” Gracie started to panic. What if none of Sonny’s friends liked her because she couldn’t fit in—or they thought she was too high strung?

  Sonny broke in. “That’s it. I didn’t mean to start anything.” He took Gracie’s other hand. “I’m sorry to tease, angel. Don’t freak out on me.”

  Sissy showed up with their drinks and after she left, Trace jumped in t
o change the subject. “Meg was telling me about Sugar Creek. We’ll have to get out to Savannah’s to hear you soon.”

  Gracie smiled. “That would be nice. Come anytime.”

  “We had such a great time that night we came out,” Meg said. She looked over at Trace. “Gracie has an amazing voice and stage presence.”

  Gracie blushed again and Sonny broke in. “I never asked how the show went last night, Gracie. How was it?”

  “Good. But the crowd was really rowdy. I hadn’t seen it like that before. One of the bouncers said he thought there was a big group of ‘baby Marines,’ he called them. First night pass after basic training, or something. Anyway . . . they were hell-raisers,” she laughed.

  Sonny had stiffened. “Did anyone give you any trouble, angel?”

  “No, no. The bouncers stuck close to Maggie and me. We were fine,” she reassured him.

  Trace watched his best friend and was shocked. He’d seen Sonny date lots of women. Lots of women. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen this protective streak before. This seemed different. He wondered if it was his vulnerable situation with the injury, or if it had to do with Gracie. She seemed like a sweet girl. She was beautiful, but not overly assured of herself, as most truly gorgeous women were. There was a kind of tough fragility there. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  The couples continued to talk over their drinks and then over buckets of steamed crabs and corn on the cob. Trace liked the way Gracie didn’t turn her nose up at the messy food, but dug right on in with the rest of them. She was shy and didn’t have a lot to say, but she did contribute some funny stories about Sonny—or Luca, as she called him—from when he was a young boy.

  Sonny filled Trace in on his recovery and how his knee was progressing. Gracie could tell the whole situation bothered Trace. At one point, he looked on the verge of tears, but fought it off.

  “Sonny . . . man . . . you know some of us—maybe all of us—would never have made it out of there if you hadn’t done what you did. That whole helo would’ve gone up . . . I just don’t know what to . . . ” Trace shook his head.