Remnants of the Heart (Winds of Change Book 3)
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Remnants of the Heart
Winds of Change - Book 3
Kristen M. Fraser
Copyright © 2021 by Kristen M. Fraser
Cover Design by germancreative
All rights reserved.
The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®, Copyright© 1973, 1984, 2011 by Biblical, Inc.™ Used by Permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is set in Australia, as such, you’ll notice Australian spelling and terminology is used - these are not typos!
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Remnants Of The Heart
Can the black sheep of the family find his way back home?
He's a preacher's kid and the black sheep of the family. Since his father and confidant died, Brad Tolbrook has been lost. Aimless. Unmotivated. He has withdrawn from his family, and built walls around his heart to prevent anyone from getting close. With a struggling business, unchecked emotions and some unhealthy coping mechanisms, his world is crumbling around him. Everything he touches turns to ruin, and he's on the brink of giving up.
Even his relationships are complicated, and some unexpected news proves how much of a disappointment he is to his family. But could this be the turning point for Brad? Is it possible to find joy amidst the ruins of his life? Can one life have the power to completely turn his around?
Remnants of the Heart is book 3 in the Winds of Change series, an uplifting series of family, love and faith.
Contents
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Remnants Of The Heart
Untitled
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Kristen M. Fraser
About the Author
Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.
~Vicki Harrison~
Prologue
Three years ago
As if sitting through the funeral service and being a pallbearer hadn’t been enough, Brad Tolbrook now had to endure the family gathering at the graveside. Arching his neck, he tilted his face toward the sky and watched as a bird, perhaps an eagle, dipped and soared on the air current. He wished it was him up there soaring in freedom instead of enduring this heartwrenching moment by his father’s grave.
Even with the shade of the makeshift gazebo, the heat was stifling. He adjusted the collar of his charcoal-grey button-up shirt, hoping to catch the slightest movement of air to cool his skin. Why his father hadn’t wanted to be cremated was beyond him. Now they had no choice but to listen to the funeral director repeat many of the same words from the chapel service, while the casket rested front and centre, poised above the chasm in the ground. He knew his dad wasn’t really in there. It was only his earthly body, dressed in his favourite suit. His hands positioned neatly by his side. His hair parted just as he liked. But still, the images his mind was conjuring up did little to appease what was already a difficult day.
His mother, and sisters, Abigail and Sophie, sat beside him in the front row, with cousins and other close family members seated behind them. Straight backed and dabbing at their eyes as the funeral director spoke. Sweat meandered a path down the middle of Brad’s back as they sang another hymn, accompanied by the tinny backing track playing from a portable CD player resting on the ground. Hadn’t they sung enough songs at the chapel already? Whose benefit was it for, anyway? It may have been his dad’s favourite hymn, but he couldn’t hear it. Brad rolled his neck, eager to be rid of the stiff suit jacket. His right leg jiggled up and down. Part impatience, part distraction to keep his tears at bay. Once they started, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the flood, and he didn’t want anyone to see him sobbing. He needed to stay strong.
As his uncle Ronald had said, he was the man of the family now that his father had passed away. “You’ve got the rest of the family to take care of now, son,” Uncle Ron had said in his gruff voice. He’d heard it from people at his mother’s church as well, and their comments weren’t helpful in any way. Surely they knew he wasn’t the right person to step into his father’s shoes. Didn’t they know he wouldn’t measure up? That was Abigail’s job, the eldest of the three siblings. Ever since they were little, she’d always taken charge. He wasn’t about to step on her toes to become the new head of the house.
Brad loosened his tie. Sliding his sleeve up, he glanced at his watch, hoping they wouldn’t have to be here much longer. Holding a graveside ceremony in the middle of the Australian summer was a poor choice. Early morning or afternoon would’ve been better, but Mum wanted to bury Dad, then have lunch at the local restaurant with family and a few close friends.
Movement caught his eye, and Sophie nudged him as his mother stood and moved to the graveside where the funeral director and his assistant were lowering the casket into the dark abyss in the ground. As he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his mother and sisters, he breathed in the fresh earthen scent and fixed his gaze on the blades of grass at his feet and not on the casket slowly descending into the ground.
At Abigail’s insistence, Mum had chosen rose petals to scatter on the coffin. “I don’t like the idea of throwing clumps of dirt or sand at Dad,” she’d said when they’d been organising the service.
“You know he’s not going to feel anything, right?” Brad replied. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with the arrangements when the funeral director had knocked on the front door two days after Dad’s passing, armed with brochures advertising different caskets and flower arrangements. It seemed bizarre to be selecting a coffin in the same way they’d browse a catalogue for the latest bargains on smoked ham or kitchen appliances.
“It’s the symbolism of it, Brad,” Abigail had tutted. “He was a kind man with a love for others, and I think he deserves rose petals rather than clumps of dirt.”
“Whatever.” And that had been his contribution to it all, much to the dismay of his older sister. But he was happy to step back and let her take over. After all, she thrived on organising others and being in control.
“Brad,” Sophie whispered. “It’s your turn.” His younger sister passed the basket of rose petals to him. He grabbed a handful before passing the basket to Abigail. One by one, he released them, watching as they spiralled and twirled into the deep chasm. Pink and white petals floating down to be buried with their father. He choked back a sob as the immensity of his loss hit him, and un
able to hold back the dam any longer, he turned and ran as the funeral director recited his last words.
His arms and legs felt like lead as he traversed the smooth green lawn of the cemetery. Polished headstones, artificial flowers and granite tombs flashed by as he ran. The sun beat down, its scorching rays burning through the dark material of his suit. His heart pounded against his ribs, like a caged bird flapping its wings trying to break free.
His feet carried him out of the cemetery, through the parking lot where the black hearse loomed as a reminder of all he’d lost, and across uneven terrain where low lying shrubs clawed at his legs until he came to a stop near the headland of Sandwater Bay. Where green grass overlooked the calming waters of the Pacific Ocean. The one part of town that invoked peace and didn’t remind him of his father.
Sucking in lungfuls of air as though he were desperately clinging to life, he yanked off his jacket, tossed it aside and rolled up his sleeves. His tie soon accompanied his jacket, and with hands on his hips, he stared out at the expanse of water, shimmering silver beneath the midday sun.
The depth of his loss squeezed his chest like a vice. Unbearable pain seared his heart. The breakers pounded the rocks below where he stood, like the grief battering his soul. He opened his mouth and roared. A raw, guttural cry, as though an untamed beast had been released. Profanities hurled into the air and were picked up by the wind and carried away. He raged and roared, ridding himself of the hurt and soul-crushing pain until there was nothing left. Until he was empty. Numb.
Depleted, Brad sank to the ground, yearning to be somewhere else. Somewhere away from the gaping chasm in his chest. Somewhere away from the grief crushing his soul.
If only it were him in that grave, then he wouldn’t feel like his heart had been squeezed so tight that it had forgotten how to beat. The light in his life had been snuffed out, and he wondered how he could go on without his best friend. His confidant. His father.
Chapter 1
Present day
Brad was on the edge. The edge of falling into a deep pit of despondency and monotony if he wasn’t careful. Actually, he was almost there. He’d been denying it for months. Years, even. He’d tried to ignore it by throwing himself into work and reassuring himself and his family that everything was okay. Deep down, however, he was holding his breath, wondering how long it would be before everything came crashing down around him.
He should know better. He’d copped earfuls from his sisters about his unhealthy coping mechanisms not being conducive to healing. Drinking himself into oblivion. Casual relationships. He was the expert in negative coping responses and burying his head in the sand. Yet, that’s how he’d dealt with his lot for the past three years. Only now, he was beginning to see the consequences of his poor behaviour.
With the window down in his black Toyota dual-cab ute, and the last of the sun dipping beyond the horizon, he’d left the office with the intention of driving with no destination in mind. Just driving to get his mind off the pile of invoices on his desk and the emails flagged as urgent sitting in his inbox. The mounting pile of overdue notices without the corresponding income to go with it. He couldn’t deal with it all right now. Anxiety had a stranglehold on him and he needed to escape. It seemed to be the thing he always did when he was stressed. Run. Or at least avoid his problems at best.
The ocean breeze whizzed through the open windows and music thumped at a notch below harmful as he navigated the ocean road. With his foot to the floor, his hands drummed a beat on the steering wheel. As he rounded the bend, the headlights washed over a car stopped on the gravel shoulder of the road. Hazard lights blinked hypnotically, and a flash of white caught his eye. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he noticed a slim figure pacing in front of the car. Dusk made it too dim to see any more details and soon the orange lights disappeared as he rounded another bend in the road.
He drove a bit further before his conscience got the better of him. Throwing a U-turn, he crossed the road before pulling to a stop in front of the blue hatchback and dimming the lights on the ute.
A dog barked from inside the car. The figure he’d seen, a woman, stopped pacing as he stepped out of the ute. Her hair was in a ponytail with loose, fine brown strands framing her face. She wore a white t-shirt, along with jeans and flat-soled shoes. It was too dark to see the colour of her eyes, but they held wariness as Brad approached her.
“Everything okay? I passed you before.”
“My car died.” She gestured toward the vehicle with the hazard lights creating a roadside disco with the intermittent flashing. “I have no idea what’s wrong. It chugged, made another funny noise, and completely stopped when I pulled off to the side of the road. I’ve got no signal on my phone, either, to call a tow.” As if to prove her point, she held it toward the sky and turned in a slow circle before stopping and shaking her head.
“Do you want me to take a look?” Brad only knew enough about engines to check the oil and water, and what to do with clogged battery terminals.
“Go for it.” She opened the passenger door and murmured a few words before a dog jumped down. Wrapping a leash around her hand, she walked to the front of the car and flicked the torch on her phone, holding it over the engine.
“I’m Brad by the way.” He glanced over his shoulder. Green. Her eyes were a deep green colour, reminding him of rich, velvety moss that covered the forest floor.
“Hannah. And this excited chap is Louie.” She tugged on the leash, pulling the retriever away from sniffing his shoes. “Excuse his friendliness. I think he’s excited at being let out of the car after being cooped up for so long.”
“He’s okay.” Brad liked dogs. Much better companions than cats. “Where are you headed?”
“Sandwater Bay.”
“You almost made it.” He chuckled before tinkering in the engine bay.
“Not close enough,” she murmured.
Brad stood and brushed his hands together. “Well, the oil’s good and the water’s okay.”
Hannah nodded. “They’ve all been topped up recently. My dad taught me well. Any ideas?”
He lowered the bonnet with a thud and tapped his hand on top. “No, sorry. Beyond the basics, cars aren’t my thing. But, can I call a tow for you and help you get where you need to go? Is there anyone else I can call?”
Her brow briefly furrowed. “No, but calling a tow would be great, thanks. I was wondering if I’d have to resort to smoke signals.”
Brad laughed, a deep throaty rumble rising in his chest. “Probably a bit dark for them to be seen. Won’t be a moment.” He pulled out his phone and walked a few paces away from the vehicles while he made a call to Murray Landig, owner of Muzza’s Tow and Mechanical. After giving him the details, Brad returned to Hannah. “He’ll be here soon. Can I run you into town? Murray will take the car to his workshop, but I’m happy to give you a lift to wherever you’re going.”
The brunette briefly narrowed her gaze, and he saw the tightening of her grip on the dog’s lead. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Sure, that would be great, thanks. Have you got room for one more?”
“Of course. He can ride in the back.” Brad helped the dog into the tray of the ute before securing the leash to the sidebar. “Has he ridden in the back of a ute before? Not likely to leap out?” he called as Hannah grabbed a few of her belongings from the vehicle.
“No, he’s fine. He loves the wind in his ears.”
“Best feeling ever.”
Her laughter bubbled on the breeze, and a jolt of awareness sparked in his chest. Before he had a chance to analyse his reaction, the deep rumble of an engine drew his attention, and bright headlights flashed over them, heralding the arrival of the tow truck.
Murray jumped down from the cab and strode over. “Good timing! I was only down the road when the call came in,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. He was a solid brick of a man with a white bushy beard, and Brad often jested he could double as Santa Claus at Christmas time. Brad chuckl
ed to himself as he noticed Hannah’s double-take, trying to match the sheer size of the man with his mellow voice, as he held out his hand in greeting.
After Murray tinkered with the engine, he jotted down Hannah’s details.
“Any ideas?” Brad asked Murray while Hannah settled into the passenger seat of his ute.
Pulling on some heavy-duty gloves, Murray pressed a button on his truck to lower the rear tray. “Could be a number of things. The alternator. Fuel pump. I’ll check it out in the morning.”
Satisfied everything was sorted, Brad climbed into the driver’s seat of his vehicle and gave a short blast of the horn as they left Murray to hook up Hannah’s car.
“I figured you’d be more comfortable in here than in that ol’ truck.” Brad thumbed over his shoulder as they drove away. He took pride in his ute. With its leather seats and top-of-the-range navigation system, it was the one luxury he’d splurged on when business had been going well.
“Thanks.” Hannah shifted on the seat sending a delicious lemony scent his way.
“Murray’s a great guy, but you’d be flat out finding room to sit with all the junk he keeps in the truck. It’s like he doesn’t know what a rubbish bin looks like.” His comment elicited a small chuckle in response which caused him to smile.