The Cost of Her Heart

By Claudia Terry Pemberton

Born and raised in the mountains of West Virginia, Amanda Martin has dreamed of becoming a country music singer and songwriter since she was six. Now twenty years later, Amanda is still chasing her dream in Nashville where she is slowly realizing that becoming a star is not as easy as dreaming about it. The one thing keeping her going is the feeling of peace she has discovered within the walls of a tiny clapboard church.

US Army SFC Carter Hinson has been on a hard-fought quest to fulfill his own noble aspiration for eight years. When he and Amanda meet at a Nashville honkytonk where she is performing with her best friend, their attraction is instant and intense. As their relationship begins, Amanda quickly realizes that Carter is different from the other men she has dated. Devoted to God and her vows to remain pure, Amanda now must decide whether Carter is the right man for her as a chain of events unfolds that tests her faith in ways she never imagined.

The Cost of Her Heart is an unforgettable story of friendship, family, and most importantly, undying love as a Nashville singer and an army soldier attempt to find their happily-ever-after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532082801

Claudia Terry Pemberton

Claudia Terry Pemberton is retired from the Cabell County Public School System where she worked for thirty-eight years. The award-winning author of the novels, Love Leaves No One Behind, Love Leads the Way, Her First Breath, The Cost of Her Heart, The Butcher’s Run, Seeing with the Heart, and Come Back to Me is a proud member of the Military Writers Society of America, the West Virginia Writers, Inc., and is also a PRO member of the Romance Writers of America. Claudia resides in Huntington, West Virginia.

Book preview

Chapter 1

WHEN ONE DOOR SLAMS

A manda Martin awakened to find herself sitting upright in bed, her eyes transfixed on the front door of her modest Nashville apartment. The sound of a slamming door had caused her to bolt upright in bed, fully convinced that someone was breaking into her home. Thankfully, it took just a few seconds for her to realize that the noise was only a hoax brought on by her own prediction. Just moments before falling asleep, she had been talking on the phone to her best friend, Logan Weiss. She told him that her ears had grown so accustomed to the slamming doors of rejection on music row that she fully expected to hear them banging in her sleep. She turned out to be right. Doors slammed all night in her dreams just as they had all day in her face.

She didn’t know why she was torturing herself by chasing her impossible dream anyway. She glanced over at her guitar leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. It seemed to mock her.

Amanda flopped back down onto the bed and pulled her grandmother’s handmade quilt up under her chin. It had been four years, and she was no closer to success than she was when she first arrived in Nashville.

The bright morning sunlight seeped through the east-facing window casting cheery illumination across her floor and bed—Mother Nature’s wake-up call. Amanda reached over and tapped the off button on her alarm clock. Being awakened by the warmth of the sun was far better than the sound of that annoying buzzer. It was time to get out of bed, but Amanda continued to lie there arguing with herself. Should she just admit defeat and go crawling back home with her tail tucked appropriately between her legs? Should she return downtrodden to listen to her mother and father lovingly say, I told you so? Even worse, she would have to endure her grandpaw’s disappointment for having given up on her dream. The degradation she would suffer as the prodigal daughter seemed almost worth it at the moment.

What do you think, Gizzmo? she inquired of the sleepy-eyed fur ball of a cat stretched out on the bed beside her. Do you think I should call it quits and head back home to West Virginia?

The lethargic red tabby yawned lazily and extended his front and back legs until he was stretched out to twice his normal size. It was obvious that he was perfectly content right where he was.

I don’t know, Gizzmo. Maybe I’m too short to be a country music star. What do you think? Amanda pretended to wait for her feline companion to answer. Nope … can’t be that, she interjected. Martina McBride’s just a little over five feet tall. I got her beat by an inch.

Maybe I’m too poor, she continued as she absent-mindedly stroked the now sleeping cat. Maybe only rich people make it in this biz. Nope … can’t be that either. Loretta Lynn was dirt poor before she hit the big time.

I don’t know then. Maybe my boobs are too big. She giggled. She was beginning to feel a bit silly, but silliness was her way of pulling herself out of the self-pitying funk that she found herself wallowing in from time to time. Nope, it can’t be my boobs, Gizzmo. They’re big, but Dolly’s got me beat by at least three cup sizes. Heck, she’s got every woman in the world beat when it comes to boobies … and singing.

Amanda lay there for a few more minutes, mulling over a multitude of unacceptable reasons for turning tail and running back home. However, no reason seemed to merit letting go of her dream. She had been fantasizing about being a country music star since she was six years old and had been chasing it since she graduated from college four years earlier.

I guess I have no excuse, Gizzmo. I may as well get up and get myself dressed and ready to go out and knock on a few more doors before show time tonight. Maybe if one of those music execs breaks my nose with their slamming door, I’ll have a good enough reason to call it quits.

She pulled the quilt back and swung her shapely legs over the side of the bed. She bent down and kissed the top of her beloved cat’s head. You just stick with me, kiddo. MandyLin Martin’s gonna be a big star someday, she announced as she turned and headed for the shower. Maybe that’s it, she said. Maybe my stage name isn’t right. Does MandyLin Martin not sound like a star? Naw … if Slim Pickens can make it, so can MandyLin.

Changing her stage name wasn’t an option anyway. Her Christian name was Amanda, but her grandpaw dubbed her MandyLin when she was just a little girl, back in the day when she first picked up his mandolin and started playing it. She could no more change the name he had given her than she could change the eye color she had gotten from him. Grandpaw was her staunchest supporter. He encouraged her to chase her dream. With him at her back, she felt like she could do anything. He was a wall of strength—a tall, imposing figure with muscles and fortitude forged from a long, hard life of farming.

Amanda smiled when she remembered how he used to pick her up like his little sack of tators and carry her to the dinner table. She loved her parents dearly, but her grandpaw put the song in her heart. She would do anything to make him proud. Chasing this dream was something she was doing for herself, but she was doing it because of him. He gave her strength.

Home was only six hours away. She went back as often as she could, but it had been almost a year since she had been back for a visit. The thought of that made her heart ache.

The plastic shower curtain rustled as she pushed it to the side. After adjusting the hot water temperature to just shy of painful, she stepped into the shower and turned her back to the hot spray. Her waist-length, thick blonde hair cascaded down her back and shoulders, flowing like spun silk with the current of the water. As she lathered her body, the aroma of lilac-scented soap filled the steamy air. She chose that particular fragrance for the simple reason that it reminded her of home, not that she needed reminding, especially this morning. She couldn’t seem to shake the nostalgic mood she found herself in. Rather than fighting it, she succumbed to it—letting her mind go where her body couldn’t. She went home with thoughts of family, love, support, and Mama’s home cooking. It occurred to her that those things would make for a great country song. Seconds later, her mouth began to sing the lyrics almost quicker than her mind could form the words.

When everything goes wrong and when all hope is lost,

chasing your dreams, no matter the cost.

Restless and weary, overcome by defeat,

home is the place where the heart can find peace.

Startled by what sounded like a slamming door, Amanda froze in place. As the hot water continued to pelt down onto her pink skin, she stood there motionless. Listening intently, she held her breath. She fully expected to hear the sound of footsteps; she heard none.

Chapter 2

STEPPING UP

T he nightclub was thundering with the sounds of loud voices and even louder music. Amanda’s internal organs vibrated to the pounding of the bass, but that was just the way she liked it. Provoked strictly by the beat of the music, her hand began to pat the side of her thigh in time with the tune. Music was in her soul. It moved her in a way that nothing else could. The heartrending words to a sorrowful ballad brought her instantly to tears, while the upbeat tempo of a dance tune would bring her body and feet to life. Much like a puppeteer controls his puppet—music controlled Amanda.

Since they were the second act of the night, Barry’s Bar was already jammed packed with people in search of a good time. This was one of the less swanky, off-Broadway establishments in town, but they gave her and Logan a standing gig every Wednesday and Saturday night. What more could they ask for?

Dressed in holey and distressed jeans that her grandpaw would make fun of, a robin’s egg blue tank top that matched the color of her eyes, and a cropped denim jacket, Amanda took the stage. After thanking the preceding act, she began her first song acappella while Logan set up his keyboard. They always started out with an upbeat song to get the crowd in the mood to dance; their plan worked. By the time Logan joined in seconds later, two scantily-dressed young women came out onto the dance floor which was positioned directly in front of the stage. One of the women, a petite brunette with shoulder-length hair, dressed in a short, black skirt and a skimpy, pink top began dancing seductively. Her hips swayed slowly as she pulled her hair up and then released it, letting it fall back down onto her shoulders.

About halfway through the song, a tall, hefty-built man joined the young women on the dance floor paying particular attention to the brunette. At first, the girl smiled and danced up against the man’s body, but when he became more aggressive, she began to back away.

Amanda continued singing, but kept a keen eye on the brunette on the dance floor. She saw the burly man grab the girl’s arm. She jerked it away, but he grabbed it again. The young woman said something to him and pulled away a second time. Amanda searched the faces in the crowd to see if anyone was going to come to the aid of the girl. Several people were watching, but did nothing to help. Some of them were laughing at the confrontation.

Just as Amanda was about to stop her song to intervene, something that she was told by the management never to do, a man, who appeared to be about Amanda’s age, pushed through the crowd and walked out onto the dance floor. He was medium built with very short, sandy-colored hair and was dressed in army fatigues. He approached the man and began talking to him. Amanda couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she saw the husky man put both of his hands against the soldier’s chest and give him a substantial shove. The soldier stumbled backwards a few steps, but quickly strode right back up to the man who was clearly much larger than he. The first punch to the face was thrown by the bully, but the soldier landed the second and third. A full-blown fight ensued just as Amanda’s first song ended. Two of the club’s muscle-bound bouncers parted the gathered crowd much like Moses parting the Red Sea. They appeared ready, willing, and able to bust some heads if need be. One of them stared Amanda down as if she would be next if she didn’t continue singing. She quickly broke into their second song of the first set—a ballad. The crowd started booing her, obviously not in the mood for the fight to be over just yet. Amanda turned to Logan at the keyboard and motioned with her hand to pick up the tempo. Logan played the first few notes of one of the club’s favorite dance tunes. As Amanda put her mouth up to the microphone and started singing, the fickle crowd went from booing to dancing. The dance floor filled quickly to capacity and beyond.

Amanda watched as the two bouncers escorted the trouble-making bully to the door. They left the man dressed in fatigues standing at the bar with a group of three other soldiers. He was dabbing his bleeding lip with a cocktail napkin. The bouncers must have seen that he wasn’t the one who started the fight, although he was most certainly the one who finished it.

44886.png

Several songs into their second and final set, Amanda noticed that the group of soldiers had found a table to the far right side of center stage. She watched as they talked, laughed, and drank beer. The sandy-haired soldier with the bleeding lip seemed to be paying closer attention to her than the rest. At first he just glanced at her from time to time, and then slowly his glances grew into stares. Finally, he turned in his seat to face Amanda directly. His staring flustered her. She was accustomed to being the center of attention on stage, but this guy’s attention was different. She felt nervous—so much so that she flubbed up the words to a song that she had sung for years, causing a crimson heat to spread across her face. She hoped that he couldn’t see the effect he was having on her, although she doubted it considering the charming, but impish smile that bloomed on his handsome face.

Under the watchful eye of the soldier, Amanda finished her final song of the night. She found herself at odds. For once in her life, she was glad the set was over; that had never happened to her before. Most of the time she was practically heartbroken when the final song rolled around, but not tonight—tonight she couldn’t seem to exit the stage quickly enough. She heard Logan calling her name behind her, but she didn’t turn around, instead she made a beeline for the backstage door.

Where’s the fire? Logan asked when he caught up with her. Where are you running off to? Don’t you want to go and get some breakfast? he asked with a puzzled look on his face. Logan was always up for eating. He was slightly overweight, but carried it well. The extra pounds gave him a huggable, teddy-bear quality. With that and his dark, wavy hair and steel blue eyes, he had no problem finding a groupie to have breakfast with; but traditionally, he and Amanda always went out to eat after the last set of the night.

I … I … Amanda stammered, aware that she had no answer she cared to share.

Logan started laughing. What’s up? I’ve never seen you at a loss for words. He stared at her as if demanding an answer.

Having had enough staring for one night, Amanda said, Oh, just shut up and come on. She laughed as she headed for the door.

44880.png

What did you think of the brawl that broke out right out of the gate tonight? Logan asked as he shoved a forkful of fried potatoes and scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Amanda blushed. She had no idea why.

Logan hesitated for a moment and then began laughing. Oh, now I get it. Pointing his finger at her, he laughed heartily. Now I know what’s wrong with you, he said, still grinning.

You don’t know half of what you think you know. Amanda joined him in laughter.

Logan shook his head. No, I’m right this time. You liked that soldier boy, didn’t ya? Amanda’s in love. He laughed and playfully smacked Amanda on the arm, causing her to drop a forkful of her blueberry pancakes.

I am not! Amanda exclaimed. Don’t be stupid, Logan, she said with a giggle.

Well then, why are you blushing like a smitten schoolgirl? You’ve got a thing for soldiers, don’t you?

Amanda thought for a moment. There was no use denying it to herself or to Logan. Maybe I do. What of it? She shrugged her shoulders. She had to admit, she did have a weakness for a man in uniform. She always had.

Well, if you liked the dude, why didn’t you stick around and talk with him. He was obviously interested in you. He didn’t take his eyes off of you for over an hour.

I don’t know. Amanda shrugged again. I acted juvenile, didn’t I? she asked, secretly hoping he would say that she didn’t.

Logan laughed again as he took another bite of his breakfast. A little bit, he said, but you’re a chick, and you chicks act crazy sometimes. I don’t think I’ll ever live long enough to figure you all out.

Amanda smiled. Logan was as honest as he was good-looking. Well, if you weren’t so dense, you would have figured us out already. You certainly have had plenty of practice.

You might be right about that, he said, winking at her. There’s something else that’s always puzzled me.

Oh yeah … what? Amanda asked.

Haven’t you ever wondered why you and I never got together … as boyfriend and girlfriend, I mean? Logan asked seriously.

His question caught her off guard. At first Amanda thought he was joking, but one look at his solemn face told her otherwise. She honestly didn’t have a good answer to his question. Next to her grandpaw, Logan was the best friend she had ever had, but she had never been attracted to him in a romantic way. She loved him dearly, but it was a brotherly kind of love. She always thought he felt the same; his question made her doubt that.

Why did you ask me that? You’ve never asked me anything like that before.

Logan chuckled. I’m just yanking your chain, MandyLin, he said, drawing out her