Grace Under Fire by Julie Garwood

Isabel MacKenna had a hundred things to do today. Killing someone wasn’t one of them.

She had such high hopes this morning when she dragged herself out of bed at the ungodly hour of five a.m. She had made detailed plans for the day that lay ahead, and she would have sailed through them if two unfortunate incidents hadn’t waylaid her. The first was an irritating inconvenience; the second, a terrifying nightmare.

Scheduled to take an early flight on a no-frills, but supercheap airline to Boston, she arrived at the airport in plenty of time to go through security. She was dressed for comfort in a pair of snug jeans and a light pink T-shirt. Her long blond hair was up in a ponytail, and she wore a Red Sox baseball cap her brother-in-law, Dylan, had given her. She checked her luggage, which was packed for a trip to Scotland the following week, and carried her backpack that held everything she would need for the next few days. It was so stuffed she was pretty sure it weighed more than she did. The first time she attempted to swing it over her shoulder she nearly did a backflip. Fortunately, once she was on the plane, another passenger helped her lift it into the overhead compartment.

She had been assigned a window seat, and she planned to go to sleep as soon as the plane took off. In hindsight, perhaps her expectations were naive. From past experience she had learned that there was never anything smooth or easy about flying, and today was no exception. Once she boarded, she was trapped, and a flight that should have taken a little under three hours ended up taking seven and a half, thanks to the fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants airline and the mechanical problems they were sure maintenance could fix in no time at all. The captain made the passengers sit on the plane for two full hours before they were allowed to go back into the terminal to continue their wait while repairs were completed. After another grueling hour passed, they were told a relief plane was being flown in to take them to Boston. Apparently, the fix-it-in-no-time-at-all plane couldn’t be fixed.

It was a miserable flight. It began with Isabel plastered up against the window while two overly friendly college students in the seats next to her took turns hitting on her. They seemed to be in some sort of competition to hold her attention and get her phone number. One was in his seventh year at a college in Arizona. In the course of his monologue he sheepishly admitted he still didn’t have enough credits to graduate. The other one was in his third year at Colorado State and had changed his major so many times he couldn’t remember what it now was. Isabel thought maybe there was a little something extra baked into the cookies he was munching on. She was pretty sure he was stoned.

Being polite to the nonstop talkers took effort, for exhaustion was pressing down on her . . . and no wonder. She had gotten only three hours of sleep the night before, and the last several weeks had been brutal, with papers due and finals to study for, not to mention packing up almost everything she owned and shipping it back home to Silver Springs, South Carolina, leaving only some of her clothes and personal items. Finally, graduation. She had hoped both of her sisters would be there for the ceremony, but Kiera, the older of the two, was in the middle of a demanding medical residency and couldn’t take time off from work to attend. Her other sister, Kate, and her husband, Dylan, were there to see her walk across the stage and get her diploma. She was on her way now to meet them at Nathan’s Bay, Dylan’s family home just outside Boston. Judge and Mrs. Buchanan, Dylan’s parents, were celebrating their anniversary, and their big family was gathering for the occasion. Isabel was happy to be invited to the festivities. The Buchanans were so warm and welcoming, and she looked forward to a week of fun and relaxation.

Then she and Kate were off to Scotland to see Glen MacKenna, the property she would soon inherit from her crusty and—she had it on good authority—horribly mean great-uncle. The land was located in the Highlands, and Isabel was anxious to see it. Kate and Dylan had given her the trip as a graduation present.

After she returned from Scotland, her plans were uncertain. Maybe the trip would give her some insight into what her future would be.

Once the plane was in flight to Boston and the incessant chattering of her seatmates had died down, Isabel rested her head against the porthole window. She was feeling horrible. She had thrown up—a couple of times, as a matter of fact—as soon as she’d rolled out of bed, and now her head was pounding. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the drummer banging away on the inside of her eyelids wouldn’t let up.

She had no one but herself to blame for her misery. She shouldn’t have gotten hammered last night. It was unlike her to overindulge, and yet, if she was being completely honest, it had been totally worth her aches and pains today. Leaning back against the headrest with her eyes still closed, she thought about how much fun she’d had with her friends at Finnegan’s, their favorite hangout a couple of blocks from campus.

It had been a fantastic night. Damon, her friend since freshman year, had banged on her door at nine o’clock, and for once in her life she was ready. Since this was the last time she and all of her friends would be together, she had decided to get dressed up, and because she was in the mood to look sexy, she wore her new royal blue, V-neck dress that showed a little cleavage. Her only jewelry was a bracelet of stacked multicolored beads and a pair of gold hoop earrings. Instead of using hair clips to hold the thick curls away from her face, she had let them fall around her shoulders. No muss, no fuss.

She opened the door wide for Damon to enter. As usual he looked gorgeous. She often told him that he could be a model because of his perfect physique and profile. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and enough muscles to fill out a T-shirt. When he smiled, women melted into pools of lust, and yet, as handsome as he was, Isabel had never felt a single spark of sexual attraction. As to that, she was beginning to think there might be an issue. In her four years at Winthrop College she had never gone head over heels for any of the men she’d dated. They were all fun to be with, and some were quite good-looking, but there was never any electricity. Without some kind of sexual connection, she had refused to go to bed with any of them, which earned her a couple of unflattering nicknames. None of them fazed her. Some, in fact, made her laugh.

Damon gave Isabel the once-over and nodded his approval. “I can’t believe you’re on time.”

Isabel grabbed her phone and keys, tucked them into her bag, and said, “I’m always on time. You’re just always early.”

Laughing, he gently nudged her out the door. After making sure it was locked, he followed her outside to his car.

“Are we going to pick up Lexi and Owen?” she asked, referring to two of their closest friends.

“No, they’re already at the club.”

Once they were on their way, she turned and put her hand on his arm. “We’re all going in different directions tomorrow. I’m really going to miss you, Damon. You’ve been such a good friend. I don’t want you to forget me.”

He shook his head. “That’s not possible. You’re unforgettable, Isabel.”

She could feel the tears coming and didn’t want to become melancholy tonight, so she rushed to talk about something else. “Want to hear a secret?”

“Sure.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time, and I’ve never told you my real name. On my birth certificate I’m Grace Isabel MacKenna. I’m told my father won an argument. He wanted Grace, and Mother wanted Isabel. I was a baby when my father died, and that’s when Mother started calling me Isabel.”

“Grace is a beautiful name,” Damon said, “but I like Isabel better.”

“There’s something else I’ve never mentioned. On my next birthday, which is coming up soon, I’m going to inherit land in Scotland from my great-uncle, Compton. A lot of land, I’m told. It’s called Glen MacKenna, and I’m going to go see it next week.”

“Land in Scotland! That’s amazing. What are you going to do with land in Scotland?”

“I’m going to sell it.”

“Maybe after you see it, you’ll want to keep it.”

“No, I won’t. I’m going to sell it and use the money to do something good. I’ve already received several calls from a man who wants to buy the land. He’s really persistent. He told me he represents the Patterson Group, and they’ll pay a fair price. I’m not going to do anything until I see it, though. I will inherit it from my great-uncle on my birthday, and there are stipulations he would like me to follow.”

“What are they?” he asked.

“I don’t know. They’re in a sealed envelope in the solicitor’s office in Dunross, which is in the Highlands. I’m supposed to open the envelope in front of witnesses.”

“On your birthday.”

“Or after, but not before.”

“Your great-uncle sounds eccentric.”

“Not just eccentric. He was cruel and mean, and he’s the reason I’m selling it. I would never keep anything from a man who treated my family the way he did. I was still a baby when my father died, but my aunt Nora told me later what my great-uncle had done to him and my mother. My father had a large inheritance, but Compton blocked it. He was furious that my father defied him by marrying my mother, who Compton thought was beneath him. He had chosen another woman for my father to marry. My parents didn’t care about the money, and, according to Aunt Nora, they were very happy. Then the accident happened. My father was critically injured, and the medical bills piled up before he died. Compton refused to release any of the funds, which would have relieved the burden from my mother. So that’s why I could never take anything from him now, unless I can do something good with it.”

“I don’t get it. If he hated your family, why did he leave you an inheritance?”

“It was in his will. He said he hadn’t expected us to turn out well, but that he was surprised to discover we were well educated and cultured despite our mother. He also noted that all three of us had gone to private schools and were hard workers. I think he attributed our successes to his bloodline. Even the inheritance was a sign of his vanity.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never mentioned this before. What other secrets do you have?”

She wondered how he would react if she told him her great-uncle had left a fortune worth well over a hundred million dollars to her sisters, Kate and Kiera, and that they gave it away to build a wing at the hospital where their mother spent her last days. The addition would have their mother’s name on it, not exactly what their great-uncle had in mind.

“Nothing I want to talk about.”

“You must have had it rough as a child.”

“Quite the opposite. I had a happy childhood. I always felt safe and loved. We were a normal family. We still are, even though it’s just my two older sisters, Kate and Kiera, my brother-in-law, Dylan, and me now.”

“I’m not so sure you’re normal,” he teased.

“Yes, I am, and I’m not the only one with secrets. You have secrets, too.”

“Yeah?” He glanced at her and said, “Name one.”

“Mia Davis.”

His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “What about her? We dated for a while, then it was over and we moved on. No big secret there.”

She shook her head. “Damon, I’m your friend. You can be honest with me.”

“I am being honest with you.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re still in love with her.”

“Maybe I was. I’m not anymore.”

“Yes, you are.” Before he could argue or get angry because she was pushing him to admit something he’d kept buried, she rushed on. “You could call her, take her out and apologize.”

“Why would I apologize?”

“Because you were wrong.”

“How do you know that?”

“A calculated guess.”

“Based on?”

Smiling, she said, “Based on the fact that you’re a man.”

The mood lightened with her outrageous remark. Damon laughed. “I love all women, Isabel. Especially you.”

The drive to Finnegan’s took longer than usual. The streets were filled with students in a celebratory mood after the end of the term. Damon turned and took another route through the campus to avoid the crowd.

“It’s open mic night,” he suddenly remembered. “Finnegan’s is going to be packed.”

“I hope Crowley isn’t there. He’s very nice, but he gets up onstage and tells his lame jokes, and it’s almost impossible to get him to let someone else take a turn.”

“He wants to be a professional stand-up comic.”

“But he’s terrible. I hope he has something to fall back on.”

“The Trio’s playing, too. They start at ten . . . if they can get Crowley off the stage.”

Isabel had always thought the three graduate students’ naming themselves the Trio was rather unoriginal, but who was she to judge? It worked for them. The three musicians would occasionally play backup for anyone courageous enough to get up in front of a crowd and sing. One played guitar; another played the keyboard, and the third played drums. They were quite talented and could pick up a melody quickly and play just about anything.

Isabel and all of her friends had been going to Finnegan’s since freshman year. Isabel had used a fake ID at first. She didn’t feel she was doing anything illegal because she didn’t drink alcohol, and yet she knew in a court of law her reasoning wouldn’t stand up. Dylan, who just happened to be the chief of police in Silver Springs, wouldn’t approve, either, but then she wasn’t about to tell him. Besides, once she’d turned twenty-one it really wasn’t an issue.

In all the times she had been getting together with friends at Finnegan’s she had never gotten up onstage. Damon and the others believed it was because she was shy and would be too embarrassed. It wasn’t the truth, but she let them think it.

As if reading her thoughts, Damon said, “Think you’ll get onstage and tell a joke or sing a song tonight?”

“Probably not.”

“You’ve said those exact words every time I’ve asked you that question. It’s never going to happen, is it?”

Since tonight was their last night together the answer was obvious. “Probably not.”

Damon turned into the lot next to Finnegan’s. Eyeing the perfect parking space, he shot forward to get it before anyone else could.

She looked around at all the cars and said, “You’re right. The club’s going to be crowded tonight.”

He wasn’t paying much attention to her now, concentrating on backing his beloved Porsche between two cars, leaving enough room so the doors wouldn’t get dinged when they got out. Satisfied, he put the car in park and carefully opened his door. “Yes, it’s going to be crowded and loud inside, so if you want to have sex with me tonight, now would be the time to tell me.”

“What would your girlfriends say?”

His grin was downright salacious. “They’d understand.”

As they walked side by side across the lot, she slipped her arm through his. “Do you think you’ll ever settle down and get married?” she asked.

“Doubtful. What about you?”

“Doubtful.”

“Have you figured out what you’re going to do when you get back to that tiny town you live in?”

“Silver Springs isn’t tiny,” she protested. “And to answer your question, I still don’t know what I’m going to do, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”

She couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. Now that her education was over, it was time to settle into a career. She knew she should take the next step, but there was an intangible force holding her back. She was torn between what she knew she should do and what her heart wanted her to do. The last four years had been ones of internal torment, and yet she had shared her feelings with no one. Not her teachers, not Damon, nor any of her other friends. Ever since she’d entered college, Isabel had stayed focused, working toward a degree in history. She even took the required education courses to become certified as a teacher. She had always loved history, and she truly enjoyed her classes, but history wasn’t her passion. What filled her soul and gave her absolute joy was music.

As a high school student, she’d had such big dreams. Every waking minute seemed to be filled with music in one way or another. When she wasn’t singing, she was playing the piano or the guitar, and when she wasn’t playing, she was writing songs. She performed in public several times—small events with no more than thirty or forty people—and the reaction was always positive, the reviews glowing. Everyone seemed to love her songs. Plans for her future were centered on music, and college was going to give her the training that would set her on the path to a music career. Her senior year at Assumption High had begun with exciting possibilities and hopes, but then everything changed when her mother got sick.

Once the horrible disease grabbed hold of her mother, it wouldn’t let go. Isabel would never forget those painful months going back and forth to the hospital, holding her mother’s hand during chemo, being so scared, and all the while silently praying for a miracle.

God didn’t give her one. During the final days in the hospital, the three sisters kept watch by their mother’s bedside. Kiera and Kate would periodically leave to attend to responsibilities, but Isabel never left. She was holding on to every precious moment with all her might. Her mother was so weak, she could barely speak, but she had so much she wanted to say to her girls, especially Isabel. On one of the occasions they were alone together, her mother reached for Isabel’s hand and made a request that would change Isabel’s future. Telling her how proud she was of her, her mother then asked Isabel to make a promise. She knew her daughter had grand dreams of becoming a songwriter and performer, but she was afraid of the heartache and struggle such a path would bring, and so she asked Isabel to forgo her dreams until she finished college. She insisted it wasn’t because she didn’t have any faith in Isabel—though Isabel doubted she was telling the truth—but her mother wanted security for her daughter, and so she asked her to put aside the music and major in a subject that was more practical, one that would give her something to support herself if her dream fell through and she didn’t succeed. Her mother wouldn’t rest until Isabel gave her word.

After her mother died, Isabel felt she had lost her bearings. For a brief time she rationalized that she could still study music. Maybe make it part of her minor degree. But then her mother’s words came back to her, and she knew that was not what was asked of her, nor what she had agreed to. Even though her world seemed so unsettled, there was one thing Isabel was sure of. She had made a vow and she would keep it.

She didn’t tell her sisters about it. They might try to interfere. This was something between Isabel and her mother.

As difficult as it was for her, Isabel stayed true to her promise. The music was still inside her, but once she was in college, she silenced it. The only time she sang her songs was in the shower when she knew no one else was around, and even then she didn’t belt it out the way she wanted. None of her friends knew she could sing or that she wrote music. It was another one of her secrets.

Somewhere along the way her game plan and her confidence vanished. If her own mother didn’t believe in her, why would anyone else? Maybe it was all part of growing up, or maybe it was just time for her to abandon her foolish dreams.

She didn’t have the faintest idea what she was supposed to do now. Her grand plans had been demolished. At least she had her degree in history, and it was a subject she truly enjoyed. She would never regret that. Maybe someday she’d be able to teach it and make others appreciate it as much as she did, even travel to some of the great historic sites she’d read about. It was time for her to make some decisions.

She might be heading in a different direction than she had planned, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still make music a part of her life, did it? Even though she didn’t sing publicly, she still continued to write songs. She had notebooks filled with them. More were on her laptop taking up memory. Before she began saving them to the cloud, she had saved them on flash drives. She used whatever she could get her hands on when a lyric or melody came to her. One of these days she’d take the time to put them all together. Then what? Once the busy work was done and she had them all in one place, what would she do with them?

She was pulled from her thoughts about the future when Larry, the bouncer for the club, called out to her. He stood in front of the double doors. Only those he allowed got inside. The others stood behind a corded velvet rope. On Friday and Saturday nights the line went halfway around the block. Larry was a big man with an even bigger smile for those he liked, and Isabel was at the top of his list.

His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Hi, darlin’. Ready to have fun tonight?”

Damon slapped a folded twenty-dollar bill in his hand and responded, “Yes, darlin’. I’m ready.”

Grinning, Larry held the door open, and as Damon walked past, he whispered, “Smart-ass,” and then laughed.

The club was packed and so loud, people had to shout at one another to be heard.

Their friend Owen stood and waved, then gave a shrill whistle to let Isabel and Damon know where their group was seated. They’d scored a wide half-circle booth on the upper level. The dance floor was below them and the booth faced the stage. A popular DJ was running the show now, playing one song after another. The floor vibrated to the beat. The club routine was always the same. It would get quiet during the break at ten while the Trio set up, and then the racket would begin again. A happy racket, Isabel thought, because everyone would pour onto the floor.

There were three other couples in the booth, and after greeting everyone and trying not to laugh at JoAnn’s platinum blond hair—her freshman-year roommate changed the color of her hair at least once a month—Isabel sat on the end across from Damon and ordered a beer. Damon was the designated driver tonight. He’d already told her he had to get on the road early tomorrow and didn’t want to be hungover. Besides, it was her turn to have a few.

After a couple of hours of laughing and reminiscing about their years together, Isabel was beginning to feel light-headed. She should have stopped after two beers and switched to a nonalcoholic beverage, but she didn’t. The air conditioner wasn’t keeping up with the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, and the cold beer tasted wonderful. In between sips she pressed the icy bottle against her cheek.

The Trio had set up on the stage. So far, four brave souls—all men—had taken turns standing in front of the crowd and singing. None of them was any good. There was some halfhearted clapping after each was finished. Then Crowley demanded to take a turn. Everyone near the stage tried to stop him. He wasn’t the least bit talented, but he was certainly tenacious, and he all but clawed his way up the steps. Some of the regulars obviously recognized him and began to moan and groan quite loudly before he even began his routine. Others outright booed him. Their reaction didn’t faze him. He told one awful joke after another.

Isabel lost count of the number of beers she drank, and by the time Crowley was being pulled off the stage by management, vowing he was only taking a break, she was feeling no pain.

“Can you believe that guy graduated? He’s such a moron,” Owen commented.

“I can’t believe all of us have graduated,” Damon said.

A small voice in Isabel’s head whispered something to her beer-soaked brain. She had graduated. Graduated. There was so much meaning in that single word. For the last four years, she had kept her vow to her mother. No singing. No music. The promise had been fulfilled, and now she was free of the obligation. Had she done the right thing? Isabel didn’t know if she should be happy or sad.

She glanced at the smiling faces that surrounded her and decided to focus on the happy. She would deal with any sad thoughts another time. Tonight was a night to celebrate with her friends.

After several more people tried to win over the crowd, Lexi announced she was going to take a turn onstage. She slaughtered an old Taylor Swift song. Then Owen and the others started nagging Isabel to give it a try.

“All of us have humiliated ourselves on that stage, and this is our last night together,” Owen reminded.

“You should give it a go,” Damon insisted.

They waited for her to decline, just as she had every other time any of them had asked.

Isabel set her beer on the table. “Okay. I’ll take a turn.”

All of them looked stunned for a brief second. Then they laughed. They obviously didn’t believe her until she stood up, swayed a bit, got her balance, and headed to the stage.

“You’re bluffing,” Lexi shouted as Isabel zigzagged her way around the crowd.

She put her hand on the wall to steady herself as she climbed the four steps to the stage. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn’t at all sure she was going to have the courage to perform. Finally, reaching the center of the stage, she turned to the three musicians and asked to borrow a guitar, telling them she would like to sing a song she’d written. The guitar player handed his to her. After she’d played several chords, the Trio picked up the melody.

“We’ve got this,” they assured her. “You sing. We’ll catch up.”

Nodding, she handed the guitar back. Then she walked to the microphone, waited while the drummer adjusted it for her height, took a deep breath, wiped her hands down the sides of her dress, and began to sing. Her voice was soft and low. Few people could hear her due to the noisy crowd packed into the room, but that didn’t matter. She wanted to sing. She closed her eyes and let the music that had been inside her for the last four years soar. She sang one of her favorites, a bluesy tune with a sensual beat. It wasn’t a quiet love song couples could slow-dance to, but a powerful lusty song that made you want to move. With each chord her voice became stronger and more seductive. At the end of the second chorus she noticed the crowd was getting quiet. She opened her eyes. Most had stopped their chatter and were staring up at her. They looked spellbound. Some were beginning to sway to the music. By the time the song ended, a hush had fallen on the whole crowd, and all eyes were on her. For Isabel the silence seemed to last a full minute, and then the crowd suddenly erupted into cheers. The sound was deafening. Bewildered and feeling a bit dizzy, she couldn’t understand what was happening. She turned to the Trio and didn’t know what to think, for all three were standing and clapping and cheering. Her head spinning now, she slowly walked down to the dance floor, where the crowd swamped her, tugging and pulling to get her attention.

Damon met her in the middle of the dance floor and got her back to their friends by arm-blocking the way. By the time she scooted into the booth, her adrenaline was fading, her hands were shaking, and she was feeling limp.

Everyone seemed to be gawking at her as though she’d just grown another couple of heads. “What? What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Owen asked with a good bit of incredulity. “Are you kidding? Did you know you could sing?”

“Of course she knew,” Lexi argued. “How could she not know?”

“Isabel, you brought the house down,” JoAnn said as though she were announcing the most astonishing news.

Isabel shook her head, but that only made the dizziness come back. Everything was being obscured by the fog that enveloped her. She remembered the crowd screaming but believed her friends were exaggerating.

Damon seemed the most thunderstruck of all of them. He was frowning at her like someone who had never seen her before and couldn’t quite decide who or what she was.

“Are you angry?” she asked, and when he told her no, she smiled and said, “I think I drank too much. I should go home.”

“No, not yet,” Owen argued. “It’s only a little past midnight.”

After some coaxing from the rest of the table, she decided she could stay a bit longer, and so she ordered another beer.

Her friends continued to stare at her in such an odd way, it made her uncomfortable. What was the matter with them?

“You have a dynamite voice,” Lexi blurted.

“It’s so husky and sexy,” Owen added.

Embarrassed, she said, “Thanks. Now can we talk about something else?”

That was easier said than done. People kept stopping by the booth to tell her how great she’d sounded. An older man in a sports coat—obviously not one of Finnegan’s usual patrons—handed her a card and told her not to sign any contracts without gaining legal advice first. He was an attorney, and he would be happy to represent her when all the offers started pouring in.

Offers? Offers for what? She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about, but she thanked him all the same.

For the next two hours, the friends continued to reminisce about all the fun times they had shared, but by two a.m. the crowd had thinned out, and it was time for them to separate. They hugged one another tightly and promised to stay in touch.

Damon walked Isabel to his car, taking very slow steps just to make sure she wasn’t going to throw up when he poured her into the passenger seat and clipped the seatbelt.

Once back at the tiny apartment she shared with two third-year students, he helped her climb the stairs, then kissed her on her forehead and said, “If you ever need me, all you have to do is call or just show up at my door.”

“All the way to Los Angeles?”

“Yes. All the way there. I’ll text you my code to get in. I’ll be your safety net. Okay?”

“That would be nice.”

He laughed. “I doubt you’ll remember any of this. Now get some sleep.”

And he was gone.