Bonds Of The Heart Read online

  bonds of the heart

  by

  Maryann Morris

  Acknowledgement Thank you to all the families of our troops who let their loved ones go and fight to protect our freedoms. Your sacrifice, and those of your loved ones, does not go unnoticed.

  Thank you to my beta readers. You’re my sounding board. And you give me support, insight, and faith that dreams can come true.

  Special thank you to Cosku T. for helping me come up with the title. Sometimes it helps to just step away from the work, but sometimes it’s best to have a little help from your friends.

  Finally, I want to give a big thank-you to Jessi Alexander, Connie Harrington, and Jimmy Yeary, who wrote the song ‘I Drive Your Truck’ and to Lee Brice for bringing the song to life. It was my inspiration for this book.

  Dedication This book is dedicated to all the brave men and women who proudly serve this nation of ours in all branches of the military, locally and abroad. They have given their lives for the safety and protection of others. They leave families, their loved ones, for this nation we have the privilege to call home. I thank you for all your hard work, dedication and steadfast bravery.

  One

  ***

  “Hamilton, we need to get the accounts ready for tax prep by the end of the week. April fifteenth, our favorite day of the year, will be here before you know it. And we all know how Uncle Sam wants his money, when he wants it.” Phil set the file on Blake’s desk and picked up a new one from the stack of manila folders heaped on the chair beside him.

  “We’re already on it Phil. You have Sherman’s file in your hands now and I’m almost done with Smalls. Don’t act like this is our first time.”

  “I know, I know. I’d hate for the partners to not give you the promotion because of our slacking.” That got a good chuckle out of Blake. Slacking wasn’t in the dictionary when it came to Blake Hamilton. The guy was as reliable as it comes, Phil thought.

  “Well, we’ll just see about that. I just enjoy what I do here. If they choose me fine, but I’m perfectly okay with where I am now.”

  Tax day. The one day a year that every person frantically tries to find ways to get more money out of good ‘ol Uncle Sam. What most fail to understand is that one wrong write-off and they could be audited. It was Blake’s job to make sure his clients’ accounts were accurate and that everything was up to par. In the five years he’d been with the firm, he’d never had one mistake. A fact Blake was very proud of. But Blake also knew that no one in life was perfect. At some point in time a mistake would be made. But that didn’t deter Blake one bit.

  Today, Blake and his best friend, Phil Graham, had stacks of files to go through. It was part of their routine come this time of year. Both senior accountants in the firm, they had met just weeks after Blake was hired. Blake and Phil hit it off immediately. Phil was probably the one friend in D.C. that Blake trusted right away. Sure, Blake made a number of acquaintances once he’d moved to the city, but none that he’d trust as far as he could throw them. Phil, on the other hand‒‒Blake considered him like another brother.

  The women in the city were a lot different as well. Thankfully, Phil had been there to help him navigate through some unsteady and, most often, confusing women he’d ever met. But Blake found them interesting in their own way. Eventually he had come to enjoy them more than he had the women in the small Virginia town where he grew up.

  In the big city, the women he’d met and dated liked the finer things in life. After living here for almost ten years, he’d learned that the women in a city like D.C. liked to be treated to a lot more than just dinner and a movie. They wanted to be wined and dined. When Blake first moved to the city, he just assumed that ‘wined and dined’ meant exactly that—wine with dinner. He was immediately proved otherwise.

  One girl he dated after moving to the city had wanted more than just a few dinner dates. She had kindly told him, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted dinner at the more expensive restaurants in town, that she should be treated like royalty and be taken to the opera, the theatre—the one with the ‘re’ at the end meaning actual actors on a stage not the ‘er’ that meant cheap kiddie movies—and to as many high-profile events that he could get her into, as the city was so richly populated with political incumbents and celebrities. Where was his brother for that lesson?

  He’d grown up in a small town, called Emberton, a ways outside of Washington, D.C., with his brother, mother, and father. Population of maybe just under fifteen hundred. It was a town where everyone knew everyone. But when he graduated from college, Blake knew that the only way for him to do what he studied for, what he loved, was to get a job in some big city. But he still missed his family often, especially his brother.

  Jared was older than him by two years. He taught Blake everything a man should know: how to drink a beer without getting caught, how to treat a woman, where to hide his stash of ‘girly mags’ and most importantly…sex. Man, he missed his brother.

  “Yeah, yeah I know. So selfless. Hey, how’s your brother doing?” Phil asked, shuffling through the papers in the folder on his lap and jarring Blake out of his thoughts.

  “Good, last I heard. Check out these pictures he just sent me. I swear this Marine thing really suits him. Robbie’s been going on and on about how his dad’s a real life hero, like in his video games.” Blake handed Phil a small envelope containing a handful of photos and turned back to his computer.

  There were a number of accounts waiting for him to complete before the week was out. Being one of the top senior accountants in the firm wasn’t just an honor, it was a privilege. And if he hoped to make partner by the end of the summer, Blake would have to put in more time at the office. Which he didn’t mind.

  “Oh, man. I remember when my uncle would tell us stories of the time he served in Vietnam. They are real life heroes.”

  Blake recalled the number of stories Jared would tell when he came back from one of his deployments. Robbie would sit at his feet or curled up in bed as Jared recounted numerous missions. Never once did Jared mention the bad things that happened during war. Robbie wasn’t ready for those yet. Death was already a tough concept to understand as an adult, how does someone explain that to a young boy when it related to war and fighting for freedom? Robbie would be turning eleven this year, Blake remembered. Blake take his annual vacation time and head home for the birthday celebration. Jared would be home too this year, the first time in about three years. It was rough for Robbie, but Robbie worshiped his father like a true hero.

  Jared was on yet another tour, this time in Afghanistan. He had been there for the past seven months. His year would be up soon and Blake couldn’t wait for his brother to get back to the states. The two of them were thick as thieves, their mother would say, always finding ways to “turn her hair gray.” Blake smiled at the memories of Jared and him: smoking in back of the high school, the first beer that Jared had slipped him after one of the school dances, off-roading in the back fields with Jared’s old beat-up Chevy. They’d tear up the fields in a cloud of dust. It was where Jared had taught him to drive.

  Phil sank into one of the plush leather high back chairs across the desk and looked through the pictures Blake had handed to him. Various photos sat around the office of young men acting like boys. A few held action shots in the field where those same young boys held rifles and wore body armor. Blake couldn’t forget the first time he saw Jared holding a gun. It was like something out of one of the action movies they had watched as kids. Damn, he was proud of his brother.

  “Mr. Hamilton, your mother is on line one. She said it’s urgent.” Emily said rushing through the door to Blake’s office.

  Blake frowned at the intrusion. Emily, his assistant of two year
s, normally knocked first. “Thank you Emily. Give me a second, will you Phil?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’ll just look through these pictures and run the numbers all by my lonesome self.” Phil laughed.

  Blake just shook his head with a smile as he picked up the receiver. “Hi Mom, what’s so urgent?”

  “Oh Blake…” his mother sobbed into the receiver. Blake could feel his heart crack. “There was an accident. When the doorbell rang, we didn’t think anything of it. We just thought it was one of the neighbors. But Robbie…he answered the door.”

  “Is dad all right?” Please let everyone be okay.

  His mom continued through tears. “When I saw it was an officer and a chaplain, I tried to send Robbie outside. But I think he knows. Oh God, Blake. It’s Jared. He’s not coming home.”

  Phil watched as his friend’s face fell from playful smile to pain and sadness. Blake’s body went limp in his chair; his shoulders slouched, his face went pale. Blake didn’t say a word, only nodded here and there. His eyes glassed over but a tear never fell. When Blake finally hung up the phone, he didn’t move for five long minutes.

  Two

  ***

  Los Angeles wasn’t known for many cloudy days, yet today seemed to prove otherwise. The dark clouds rolled with thunder as Erika dug out her umbrella from the closet and shoved it into her purse.

  She had lived in the sunny City of Angels for the past four years. About two years after she graduated from college, she had gotten the chance to be an assistant to an editor at one of California’s largest publishing houses, Byline Publishing House. She had eagerly taken the position and worked hard every day. Nights—sometimes weekends too—when coworkers like Jane were wasting her money on dinner and drinks with friends, Erika was setting up the I.V. coffee drip to finish another manuscript. All the while dreaming of picket fences and kids to watch play behind. All just to prove to her new employer, and to herself, that she could not only be an editor one day but live and survive in a city where people would flock to daily just to try their luck at becoming famous. She didn’t want to be famous. She wanted what every woman wanted: a home, a loving husband, two—maybe three—kids, a dog. In other words, she wanted roots.

  Growing up a military brat wasn’t easy. She had been carted from town to city to base and back again so many times. She wanted just one place to call home. Stay there for more than a few years at a time. So when the opportunity presented itself, giving her the chance to be in one location on her own, Erika snatched it up. She was finally growing her roots. The problem was she didn’t have the rest of her dream.

  Her mother was back East, finally in a town where her father promised they wouldn’t have to move any more. They had settled there the year after Erika moved to California. She had taken some vacation time and gone to help them unpack. It was a nice little town, Emberton, in the middle of nowhere. She doubted it even existed on a map. She’d call it Podunk if she could. But that would be giving it too much credit.

  She missed her parents, especially her daddy. She wasn’t the typical ‘Daddy’s Girl’ in the true definition since he was always on deployments or at the base, but she looked up to her father and loved him with all her heart. He had taught her a lot growing up and was always there for her when she needed him. She would deny it if asked, but she compared a lot of her early boyfriends to her father. None of them had measured up. Still she’d occasionally compare her dates to the man who would always have a place in her heart.

  She packed some papers into her briefcase and heading out the door, Erika thought of her father.

  He was off on yet another deployment overseas. This time in Afghanistan. He was supposed to be retired. He was given the opportunity just a month before this last deployment. But he turned it down to serve his country yet one more time. She loved his dedication to the Marines, but each time he went away she’d worry and lose sleep. She wasn’t able to make it back to Virginia this time to see him off. She couldn’t wait until he’d return in five months, two days, and less than twelve hours.

  Not that she was counting or anything.

  Not that the calendars on the walls in her apartment, in her office, and on her cell phone didn’t have daily countdowns.

  She was going to surprise him when he touched down. She had planned it with her mother and everything was set up: the airline tickets, rental car, and even a special dinner. His favorite, burritos. Even though it was simple, they made it a family event with everyone pitching in and making a mess of the kitchen in the process. Erika smiled. With the thought of seeing her daddy again, Erika swore to herself that today would be a good day, even if she did only get maybe three hours of sleep last night worrying.

  Los Angeles traffic was not to be messed with. It was a monster all its own. You had to either accept it calmly and find ways to enjoy the morning commute with music or books on tape or you could be like the millions of people who lived here and develop severe road rage. Today Erika chose music, although most other days it was road rage that won out.

  When she finally made it to her office, it was raining so hard you’d think Noah’s Ark 2.0 should be making its debut at any moment. She dug out her umbrella, she exited her car and headed into her office. Scurrying across the parking lot, Erika managed to duck under the overhead awning just before a car sped past through a puddle barely missing her. They really should fix that pothole, she laughed to herself.

  “Good morning sunshine!” Maggie handed Erika her morning cup of java as she walked with her through the lobby of Byline Publishing House.

  Welcoming the caffeine, Erika took the cup from her best friend and sipped before answering. “Sunshine? Did you forget your glasses again? You do see it’s raining outside, right Mags?”

  “I know, but you have to try to be positive every chance you get. Too many negative things happening in this world.” Maggie pressed the call button for the elevators that would sweep them up to the fifth floor.

  “Just one of the things I love about you, Mags. Always so positive.” She smiled.

  “So what’s on the agenda for today, Ms. Gibbons?”

  Erika laughed at the way Maggie rolled off her name. Growing up it was always Erika or Hank’s Girl. “I have to get the Fields manuscript off to the printers. We’ll need to get that squared away before noon. Then I got another four manuscripts that came in late last night that need reviews, summaries, and to be sent back to the authors. The Roberts manuscript is a good one, and that should be sent to Cameron for full copyediting. I think he’d get a kick out of the plot. Murder mystery meets aliens from outer space.” Erika rolled her eyes as Maggie’s laugh echoed through the hallway on their way to her office.

  Erika glanced at the phone on her desk that had a little voicemail icon flashing. There was bound to be at least a dozen calls she’d have to return this morning. She watched Maggie settle into one of the chairs in front of her desk. She had met Maggie on her first day at the publishing house and the two became friends immediately. Maggie shortly became her first real friend in the big city. Now they were practically inseparable, like sisters.

  Maggie had already been working at the publishing house for a few months before Erika was hired. At the time, Maggie was an assistant to one of the senior editors who taught Erika everything she knew about the business and the city. Being an only child, there wasn’t much that Erika knew. Her mother had taught her all the things that mothers could teach their daughters, but it wasn’t the same. Erika considered Maggie like the sister she never had. They had shared wardrobes, tips on dating, and—she laughed to herself—once even a guy. That was something never to be repeated.

  Poor Charlie didn’t know what he had coming when he had found out he was dating the both of them. Both continued to date Charlie for about another week before planning to meet him at one of their favorite bars, Paddy’s Pub. The plan was executed perfectly. She was to meet Charlie at the bar and have a few drinks with him. Maggie would just happen to walk into the same bar.
As the sweat glistened off Charlie’s forehead when he saw Maggie walking toward them, Erika had to fight off the laughter and guilt at equal measures. Maggie had said hello to him, turned to Erika and the two women engaged in their normal conversation leaving Charlie at the bar, with the tab, a look of purse confusion and anxiety on his face, never to be seen again. He got off lucky, Maggie had said. She would have preferred to brand him, but Erika couldn’t be that cruel. It was the most humane way to neuter him, Erika thought fondly.

  “If you want to hand off some of those manuscripts to me, I’ll take a stab at them. I just finished off a stack yesterday.”

  “You don’t stop do you? Always working. When do you take time for yourself?”

  “When I find the time. I take kickboxing to let the stress out. You’d be surprised how good it feels to have your fist connect with the bag and just have all your frustrations released. It’s better than hitting a guy—sometimes. And we have our girl’s nights.”

  “Yes we do,” Erika smiled, “which reminds me, I need to pick up another bottle of wine since you finished mine off last night.”

  “Sorry.” Maggie laughed.

  Erika shook her head and reached for her phone. “Give me a minute and let me check these messages. Then we can go over what I have waiting for me and see if I can hand any off to you.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll just check out this alien story while I wait.” Maggie picked up the thick manuscript Erika had placed on her desk and filtered through it.

  She handed off a few manuscripts to Maggie and responded to emails from agents trying to push their author’s work. Some she had to turn down. Others really piqued her interest. There was a story about two EMS workers who notice a string of victims who soon become secret detectives to try and solve the case. Not bad. She’d pass that one off to Walter. He’d have fun editing that since he was once an EMS technician himself.