Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface), page 1
For God, my source of creativity.
For my family, always.
For Mary Bocks and Motivation Mondays.
For my Female Writers group and all the encouragement and insight.
For Nan N. and our library adventures, and walking to lunch in the rain.
For Jen S. for beta reading and being excited with me!
For Erica H. for investing your valuable time in me.
For everyone else who encouraged me to finish this book and waited in patient (and sometimes not-so-patient) excitement.
I’m thankful for all of you.
Prologue
January
“I love weddings.” I sigh, not even bothering to hide my smile.
Prescott reaches over the table and grabs my hand. “Yes, we know.” He smiles back at me.
“I’m so happy for them.” Sigh.
“Anne,” Prescott says, and I can tell he’s holding back a laugh. “I think you’re happier for them than they are for themselves.”
I look at my cousin. She’s stunning in her simple yet elegant wedding dress. Merrick is her equal in his tux. They’re perfect.
I smile dreamily, thinking about what my dress will look like when the time comes.
“You,” Prescott says, “are a hopeless romantic.”
My only response is a brighter grin.
Just then I feel someone squeeze my shoulders. I look up into Billie’s radiant face.
“Isn’t everything just perfect?” she gushes.
I stand and hug her for the umpteenth time. “Yes!” I nearly squeal. “I’m so happy for you two!”
“You were an amazing bridesmaid, Anne. Thank you for everything.”
I beam. “It was my absolute pleasure.”
Billie pulls my arm gently, moving me out of earshot of the table.
“Merrick told me that Prescott said he needs to talk to you alone, sometime tonight.”
My eyes go big. “Oh?”
Billie nods quickly. “Yeah. That’s all I know. Keep me posted!”
I resist the urge to squeal and nod back. “Okay,” I say, a little too excited.
We both burst into laughter.
Just then, my new cousin-in-law appears, slipping his arm around Billie’s waist. She leans into him, smiling.
“You two are so cute,” I say.
“Thanks, Anne.” Merrick kisses his bride’s cheek. “We’ve got to go cut the cake.”
Billie flashes me a smile as they walk away. Then she mouths I want to know everything!
* * *
I want to push Prescott off the balcony.
“What?” I say, and I’m surprised I can even get that out.
“Anne, I’m so sorry. It will just be twelve months, and—”
“A year?” I choke out. Clearly this is not the romantic tryst in the wintry air I’d imagined.
He puts both hands on my shoulders. I try to shrug him off, but he holds on to me firmly. “Anne, they’re still training in Afghanistan. I’m needed—”
I cut him off again. I know it’s rude, but I just can’t help it. “Afghanistan. Oh my gosh. You have to say no.”
He laughs, but it’s humorless. “You don’t say no to deployment.”
“You can’t go,” I whisper.
“Anne…”
“We’re just getting to know each other.” And I’m already falling in love.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
My heart is breaking in two.
“We’ll write,” he offers.
I stare at him.
“Sweetheart…” he begins.
I turn and walk back into the reception hall.
It’s not that I’m mad at him.
I just need to get to the ladies’ room.
I don’t want anyone to see me cry.
Chapter 1
Four months later
“Will that be all for you today?”
“Yep,” the man says.
“Your total is $31.80.”
He hands me a fifty and I give him his change.
“Have a great day, sir,” I say, smiling.
I watch him leave with his bag and I breathe a sigh of relief. That was the last customer of the day.
I walk to the front door and lock it. Pulling the string on the neon open sign, I turn it off. Then I return to the counter to start my closing routine.
I love working at Old Things, New Things. It’s a secondhand and consignment shop that’s been in our city for a few decades. Here you’ll find everything from repurposed furniture to antique candlesticks. The owners, Albert and Mabel Hornsby, are the sweetest people you’ll ever meet, and they’ve become like grandparents to me.
They hired me just after I graduated high school. It was supposed to be a temporary job, something to keep me busy while I decided what I wanted to do with my life. But I ended up staying on permanently. I love the business. I love when Albert brings me an old dining set to refinish. I love painting a worn-out dresser to look like a little girl’s fairy princess dream. I’ve learned so much, and steadily, I’m getting better at what I do.
After counting the money in the drawer and dropping the envelope of cash in the safe, I straighten up. I sweep, dust, and polish the wooden furniture. I try not to be in a hurry, but I just can’t help myself.
A letter came today. And I can’t wait to read it.
I receive a letter from Prescott every two weeks or so. I asked him to address them to the store, because when they arrive I don’t have to wait till I’m home to read them. But even after I’m home, I read them over and over, trying to imagine him sitting right in front of me saying the words he’s written down on paper. In my mind, I hear every line in his deep, friendly voice.
I miss that voice. I miss everything about him.
Okay, okay. I’ve got to read this letter before I start to cry.
I make my way back to what we call the “waiting room.” This is the room where furniture and things sit until they’re ready to be put out for sale. Last week, a big, comfy, uglier-than-sin chair came in. It’s one of those overstuffed numbers, with a 1990s mauve-and-blue design. Reupholstering it is on my to-do list. But for now, it’s serving as my reading chair.
I grab my bottle of water and sit in the big chair, crossing my legs. Once I’m comfortable, I rip open the letter. Just seeing his neat, block handwriting makes me smile, and I haven’t yet read a word.
I love how he starts every letter with My Anne…
He begins the letter by telling me how he’s doing. I’m glad he does this, because I will just worry and fret until I get to that part. Knowing he’s okay right off the bat lets me enjoy the remainder of the letter in peace.
Then he goes on to tell me that he’s been thinking about our phone call. Our first phone call…
* * *
Six months earlier Ugh. I hate when I get a call from an unknown number.
I decide to answer the call, knowing I can always block the number later.
“Hello?” My voice isn’t very friendly.
“Hi,” a deep voice says from the other end. “Is this Anne?”
“Yeah,” I say, suspiciously.
“Great! Well, I knew it would be you… I didn’t think she’d give me a fake number.”
I can’t help but laugh. “What?”
I hear a sigh, and then, “Hi, Anne. My name is Prescott. Your cousin Billie gave me your number.”
I freeze. Prescott? I only know of one Prescott.
“I hope it’s alright that I called.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” I say quickly. “Hi. Um…”
I have no idea what to say.
“Okay, this is awkward.” I hear him laugh.
I laugh too. “It’s okay. Just tell me why you’re calling, again?”
“Well, I’m not sure if Billie has told you anything about me.”
“She has,” I say, hoping he can hear the smile in my voice. “You’re the Marine, right?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles again. “I’m the Marine. But I’m also a man without a date to the military ball. And let’s just say a little birdie told me that you just may be interested in attending. With me.”
He waits.
I want to squeal. I mean, I really want to squeal. But I’m keeping my composure so I don’t ruin perhaps the greatest thing to ever happen to me in my life.
I take a deep breath and answer calmly. “A little birdie named Billie?”
“That’s the one.”
We both laugh again, and I’m surprised at how easy it is to talk with this stranger over the phone.
“I would be very interested,” I say, unable to keep myself from grinning.
“Great! I mean, this is really great. I thought for sure that I’d end up being the only Marine to take his sister to the ball.”
“That would be humiliating,” I tease.
“Yeah. Especially since she’d want to bring her husband along, therefore leaving me at square one.”
I love this guy’s sense of humor.
“So, what are the details of this ball?”
Prescott spends the next few moments explaining everything to me. I play it cool, asking a question here and there. Finally, we’ve got all the details worked out.
“Well, Anne, it was very nice meeting you, even if it was only over the phone.”
“You
We’re laughing as we say goodbye.
Then I call my cousin, starting the conversation with the most enthusiastic squeal of my life.
* * *
I smile as my thoughts are brought back to the present.
I put the letter back in its envelope and tuck it into my purse. I grab my purse and sweatshirt, ready to leave. Prescott’s letter was a whole lot of reminiscing about our first meeting. I don’t mind, though; I think about it often. It helps keep me from missing him so badly that it aches.
I’m counting down the months. Literally. I have a calendar in my kitchen that is strictly for marking a big black X through every day that brings me closer to seeing him. And I can’t wait to see him.
* * *
The next morning, I’m in a great mood. Then again, I always am after receiving a letter. I was up late writing him back. I’ve got the envelope with me—addressed, stamped, and ready to go. I put it in the basket of outgoing mail.
“Good morning, Anne,” says a pleasant voice from behind me.
“Good morning, Al,” I say with a smile. “Any special instructions today?”
Albert Hornsby is a very distinguished gentleman. I rarely see him without a vest and bow tie. Somehow he makes it work for his everyday look, without making everyone else feel like they’re underdressed. Today is no exception. He’s wearing a mint-green dress shirt, gray vest, and blue-and-white bow tie.
“Just that Mabel won’t be in today,” he says, smoothing his white mustache. “She’s in Detroit, visiting her sister.”
“Oh, that’s nice! She’ll have a great time.” I walk to the door and pull the string, lighting up the Open sign.
As I unlock the door, he continues. “Oh! And my nephew Benny will be stopping in sometime around lunch. He’s going to go over the books with me.”
“The accountant?” I ask.
He nods his head. “The very one. He’s just received his master’s degree and wants to get some small business experience under his belt. I told him to come on in; I can always use the extra set of eyes.”
“I’m glad you’re also getting to spend time with your family.”
“That too,” he says, the corners of his mustache turning up in a smile.
“Hey,” I say, while I’m thinking of it. “Did you get the new fabric for the chair that’s in the waiting room?”
“Not yet. It’s on my list for today.”
“No worries,” I say. “Just thinking about buying it for myself once I reupholster it.”
“You are?” His eyebrows rise in question.
“I am. I’ve been sitting in it on my breaks and when I read my letters. It may be hideous, but it’s super comfy.”
“That it is,” Al chuckles. “If you want it that bad, it’s yours. Just do the fabric on your own time. Deal?”
I’m not surprised by his kindness and generosity, but this was an unexpected blessing. I walk over and kiss his cheek. “You’re the best, Al. Thank you.”
He blushes a bit, then waves me off. “Oh, get to work,” he orders. But his tone is as lighthearted as ever.
I turn to the register, knowing this will be a great day.
* * *
Right before lunch, I hear the front doorbell and look up to greet the customer. It’s a man who looks to be in his early thirties; a black leather backpack is slung over his shoulder. He’s got wavy black hair, bronze skin and deep, dark eyes. He looks around as if searching for something. Or someone.
“Can I help you?” I ask, my voice friendly.
“Yes,” he says, nearing the counter. “I’m looking for my Uncle Al.”
“Oh!” I say, recognition dawning. “Benny?”
He chuckles. “Ben, please.” He offers his hand.
I take it, shaking it warmly. “Ben. Nice to meet you. Your uncle’s in the back.”
He hangs on to my hand when I try to let go. “And you are?”
“Oh! I’m Anne—I work for your aunt and uncle.”
He drops my hand and nods. “Nice to meet you, Anne.”
“I’ll be right back.” I walk to the waiting room where Al is replacing the handle on the drawer to an end table.
“Al?”
He looks up.
“Benny is here.” I grin.
“Send him back?”
“Sure.”
Returning to the counter, I wave my arm in the direction of the waiting room. “He’s just through there. You can go on back.”
“Thanks.”
He disappears through the back door and I turn back to the register.
After a moment of letting my mind wander and staring out the windows, I busy myself sorting through a box of donations we received yesterday.
Donations are hit and miss. Sometimes it’s just people’s junk they don’t want to deal with, but once in a while we find something really great.
I pull a small lamp out of the box and smile. The base is Noah’s ark, with the animals walking two by two around the bottom. Perfect for a nursery. It makes me think of the paperwork I have sitting on my dining room table.
I want to foster a child. However, I know it’s a huge decision and I’ve been dragging my feet finishing the forms to apply. But after much prayer, I know this is what God wants for me.
I daydream a bit about a little girl to take shopping and dress up. I know this isn’t reality in most cases, but I can’t stop myself from imagining what it’d be like.
I set the lamp to the side just as the mailman walks in, breaking through my fantasy.
“Hey, Mick!” I smile brightly.
He waves, his hand full of mail. “Got anything for me today?”
I take our incoming mail from him as I point to the basket. “Yep.”
Taking my letter, he asks, “How is he?”
“Same,” I sigh, shrugging. “He’s pretty vague in his letters about what goes on there, but he seems to be doing alright.”
“Good,” Mick says. “He’s in my prayers.”
I smile and thank him, and he’s out the door.
I start sorting the mail, hoping my letter reaches Prescott quickly.
Chapter 2
I’m just finishing my dinner dishes that evening when my phone rings. It’s my cousin, Billie, wanting to video chat. I plop myself on my vintage plaid couch and get comfortable.
“Heyyyy,” I answer. I’m always thrilled to talk to her.
“Anne!” Billie says, with a little more excitement than I’m used to seeing from her.
I laugh. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” she says, and I can tell she’s lying.
I raise an eyebrow at her, letting her know I’m on to her.
“Okay, okay,” she says. “I’m pregnant!”
I jump from the couch, my heart racing and my eyes wide. “You’d better not be joking!” I all but scream.
Billie laughs, and she sounds like a giddy child. “Not joking.”
I practically swoon and fall back on the couch. “When? When did you find out?”
“Well, I had my suspicions a couple of weeks ago, so I took a few at-home tests.”
“A few?”
“Okay. Six. I took six at-home tests.”
I throw my head back, laughing. “Go on,” I demand.
She takes a deep breath, continuing. “They were all positive.” Huge grin.
“Wait, wait, wait. You knew, what, two weeks ago, and you didn’t tell me?” I know she can hear the hurt in my voice.
“Anne, I’m sorry. We didn’t want to tell anyone until I had been to the doctor’s and made sure everything was alright. I went today, and you’re the first person we’re telling!”
That makes me feel a bit better, but I still pretend to pout. “Still, Bill. You’ve known for weeks.”
“I know. Don’t be mad.” She grins slowly. “I’m going to have a baby.”
I forget about any anger I feel toward her and do the first thing that comes to mind.
I squeal.
Billie is laughing when I see Merrick’s face pop into view.
“I heard that from the kitchen.”
“Congratulations, Pops,” I say with a teasing smile.
He tries to glare at me with one of his cold looks, but I can see through it. He’s a softie underneath that hard shell of his.
Billie’s face reappears and she rolls her eyes. “He’s more excited than I am,” she says. “We had to stop at the mall on the way home from the doctor’s to check out the maternity and baby stores.” She nears the screen and whispers, “He thinks my regular pants will crush the baby.”
