Return to Me (22 page)

She missed Wyatt. She missed her dad.

And, though it galled her to admit it, she missed Roxy.

God . . . what am I supposed to do?

=

The sun was warm upon Roxy’s neck. A pleasant feeling. She couldn’t say the same for her knees. They ached after more than an hour of kneeling, even with pads beneath them.

Straightening, she dropped the trowel and removed her gloves. “Susan, I’m going for a bottle of water. Want one?”

“Yes, please.”

Roxy rose, taking a moment to stretch out the kinks in her legs, back, and shoulders before heading toward the large cooler that sat in the shade of the utility trailer. Men’s voices carried to her from across the lawn, several of them shouting orders at once as they unloaded a large tree from the back of a pickup truck.

It didn’t take but a moment for her gaze to find Wyatt.

God, how can I make things right again?

His back was to her, his arms gripping the sack that wrapped the roots of the tree. Two other men were doing the same. Wyatt took a step backward. His foot must have caught on something, for he stumbled and down he went, followed by the tree and the two other men.

Nearby male laughter drew her eyes toward the trailer again. Although they hadn’t been introduced, she recognized the man standing near her. Greg Cooper, the director of worship at Believ- ers Hillside. Under six feet tall, he had blond hair that was worn short and spiky, and his blue eyes were friendly. She supposed he was close to Wyatt’s age.

“Do you think anyone got hurt?” she asked.

“No, they wouldn’t still be barking orders if anybody was.” He held out his hand. “You’re Roxy Burke.”

“Guilty.” She shook his hand. “I’m Greg Cooper.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Wyatt told me you have a real gift for music.” “He did?” She glanced toward the hillside again. “He suggested you join the praise team.”

Elena disagrees.

“Interested?”

Roxy opened the cooler and withdrew two bottles of water. “I don’t know. I haven’t been back long.”

“I heard you tried to make a career in music. Country, right?” “Yes.”
But I didn’t try very hard. Not really.

“Some great songs come out of Nashville. I listen to quite a bit of it. I like Brad Paisley’s ‘When I Get Where I’m Going’ and Brooks and Dunn’s ‘Believe.’ Pretty much anything by Randy Travis.”

She tried not to let her surprise show. She’d expected criticism about drinkin’ and cheatin’ songs.

He laughed again, perhaps reading her thoughts.

She liked the sound of his laughter. It was rich and real, and his smile was wide, revealing straight white teeth that would make an orthodontist proud.

“Why don’t you come by the church on Wednesday night? We meet at seven.”

Didn’t anyone share Elena’s concern? Maybe Greg didn’t know Roxy was a new Christian.

“Come on. I think you’ll enjoy yourself. We’re a fun group.” “Well . . .” Once more, her gaze drifted toward the hillside. The

tree that fell on Wyatt was now in the ground. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

“Great. We’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.” With a quick smile, she turned on her heel and returned to the flowerbeds.

=

“I’m home, Dad.”

Jonathan looked up from the magazine he was reading. Roxy stood inside the doorway of the family room, a tall glass of ice water in one hand. Her hair was a riot of curls held high on her head in a ponytail. She looked tired but healthier than a few weeks ago.

“You got some sun today.” He set the magazine on the coffee table. “Hope not too much.”

“I used sunblock. I think I’ll be okay. But my muscles are another story. I ache everywhere.”

“I’ll bet.”

She walked to the chair opposite him and sank onto it.

“I know you were there to work, but did you have a good time too?”

“Mmm. Susan Roper and I did the flowerbeds, and that gave us a chance to get to know each other. She’s very nice.” She took a long sip of water. “I met Greg Cooper too. He invited me to try out for the praise team.”

“Wonderful!”

She frowned. “Do you really think so, Dad?”

“Of course, I do. Why? What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” “Oh, I don’t know.”

Jonathan had the distinct impression she wasn’t telling the truth, that she
did
know what troubled her.

“Nothing. Everything.” She sighed. “Wyatt was there at the church.”

Was Wyatt behind her frown? “How did he seem?”

“Sad about Elena. Like me.” Roxy stared into her water glass, rolling the liquid around inside.

He longed to give advice. He longed to tell his daughter to do this, this, and this, then all would be well. But life didn’t work that way.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” “What for?”

“For failing you. For being such a disappointment to you and Elena.”

Jonathan rose from the sofa and walked to Roxy’s chair. He sat on the arm and drew his daughter close to his side; she rested her cheek against his ribs.

“I squandered everything. Grandma’s money. A chance for a recording contract.” She sighed. “My self-respect.”

He patted her hair with his free hand. “We can’t any of us undo the past.”

“I wish we could.”

“We all wish it, at one time or another.”

She was quiet again before saying, “I don’t deserve to sing. I’ve messed up too much.”

“Roxanne, if we got what we deserved, we would spend eter- nity in hell.”

“No kidding,” his daughter whispered. Then she gave her head a slight shake. “Elena said I should wait before getting involved with the worship team. She thought singing might prove to be too much temptation. You know. Make me fall back into my old lifestyle.”

Jonathan drew back and lifted her chin with his index finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “There’s truth to what your sister said, Roxy. Singing became all important to you, and that wasn’t good. But what you need to find out now is if this is you wanting to sing again for the wrong reasons or if it’s God opening a door.”

“You think God wants me to sing again?”

“God gives gifts to all of His children. One gift He gave you is the gift of song. He doesn’t want you to pretend He never gave you the gift. He doesn’t want you to stuff it in a drawer and ignore it. The question you need to ask yourself isn’t whether or not you should sing again, but why you want to sing. Are you doing it for yourself, or for Him?”

Tears welled in her eyes as she seemed to mull over his words. “If you’re feeling drawn to this, Roxy, maybe it’s time to give it

a chance. Go to the practice and see what God tells you there.” “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll go.” There was a glimmer of the old,

impish Roxy in her eyes as she offered him a sheepish smile. “I told Greg I would anyway.”

He laughed and hugged her. “Then go and have fun. God will show you what’s right for you.”

He watched her rise and leave the room, his heart full.
I know

You will, Lord. You’ve brought her so far already, I know You’ ll guide my little girl.
He’d spent so many years praying for Roxy, for God to bring her home. And now here she was. At home with him and with God.

What about Elena?

Jonathan paused. Praying for Roxy was as natural as drawing breath. But Elena? She was the “good” daughter, the one who’d never been in trouble, never needed prayer. Not like her sister.

She’s in trouble now.

The thought struck home.

Lord, forgive me
.

Dropping to the floor, Jonathan knelt, bowed his head, and let the prayers flow.

E
LENA

April 2000

Elena’s head snapped up at the sound of the doorbell.

How could Roxy do this to Wyatt? How could she be so thoughtless and cruel?

“I’ll get it, Fortuna.”

Heartsick and angry, she walked down the hallway.
What will I say? How will I tell him? God, help me. I don’t know what to do.

At the front door, she stopped, hand on the knob.
Please, God.

Help me. Help Wyatt.

She opened the door.

He stood on the stoop, a smile on his handsome face and that familiar twinkle in his dark blue eyes. “Hey, Elena. Didn’t expect to see you tonight.” He cocked a black eyebrow. “Where’s Roxy? She told me to meet her here instead of at her apartment, but I don’t see her car. The lecture starts at eight, so we’re cutting it short.”

“Come in, Wyatt.” Feeling the coward, Elena left the door open and headed for the living room, trusting that he would follow.

How could you do this, Roxy? How could you treat him like this?

I’ d give anything for somebody like him to love me, and you just throw him away.

That was only half true. She wouldn’t give anything for some- body
like
him to love her. She’d give anything for
Wyatt
to love her.

She stopped at the sofa, then turned and waited for him to appear in the doorway.

He wore a puzzled expression as he entered the living room. “Does she know I’m here? We need to go.”

There was no way to soften the words. Elena had to speak the truth. “Roxy isn’t here.”

He glanced at his watch. “Why didn’t she call me? I’ll never make it back to her apartment in time. We’ll be
⎯
”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“She sublet her place and caught a flight for Nashville this morning. I . . . I had a message on my answering machine when I got home from work.” Elena brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “She asked me to come over to Dad’s to tell you. She . . . she said she didn’t want to leave you a note.”

He turned to look toward the staircase, as if expecting Roxy to descend into view.

“She’s gone, Wyatt. She said she won’t be back until she’s got a recording contract and a CD with her name on it.”

Like a man who’s been sucker-punched, Wyatt sank onto the nearest chair. “I don’t understand.” He rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I asked her to marry me.”

Elena’s breath caught in her throat. Roxy hadn’t mentioned a proposal.

“We had a fight last week, and I knew she was still mad at me.

But I . . . I thought she would come around. I thought — ”

Elena felt his broken heart as if it were her own. Intense pain wrapped around her chest and squeezed until she thought it might

snap her in two. She longed to reach out to Wyatt, to touch him, to hold him, to comfort and be comforted.

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, his hands gripped between his knees, his head bent down. “I love her. How could she go without telling me?”

She wanted to throttle her little sister within an inch of her life. She wanted to make Roxy see how much she’d hurt Wyatt. She wanted Roxy to hurt as much as he was hurting.

But Roxy didn’t know how much he hurt. Roxy had made it a habit to put herself before everyone else, never counting the cost to others. Not even to the man who loved her so much.

“I wanted to marry her,” he whispered, raising his gaze to meet Elena’s.

Words stuck in her throat. Tears burned her eyes.
She doesn’t

deserve you, Wyatt. Can’t you see that? She doesn’t deserve you.

Twenty-F ive

Roxy was in the office break room when she overheard two women talking in the hallway.

“Brian said Wyatt Baldini may not go to Bible college now.” “But why not? He’s got to be sad that Elena called off the wed-

ding, but why give up what he wanted over it? He must not have been very serious, is all I can say.”

Coins dropped into the soda machine. A can clattered into the bin.

“Maybe it isn’t Elena or the broken engagement that’s the problem.”

More coins, another can dropping. “What do you mean?”

“Her sister. Didn’t you know he and Roxy were an item before she went to Nashville? He was in love with her, from what I’ve heard. Maybe he never got over her. Maybe they’re having an affair.” The woman laughed. “Imagine that kind of scandal in the Burke family.”

Roxy swallowed a gasp.

The women continued talking as they walked away, their voices fading in the long hallway.

She sank onto a chair, thankful no one else was in the break room to see the blush heat her cheeks, to see the shame in her eyes. The gossip was cruel, but should it be unexpected? Hadn’t she lived the sort of life that begged to be talked about?

I deserve it, but Wyatt doesn’t.

Was it true? Was he giving up seminary? Was he giving up on becoming a pastor? That couldn’t be right. Wouldn’t he have said

something when he saw her on Saturday? He wasn’t a quitter. Look how long and hard he struggled to go to college and earn his law degree. Nothing had been handed to Wyatt Baldini. He had to fight for it all.

And if he wasn’t going to seminary, was it because of her?

Nerves twisted in her belly.

Would she want that? Would she want him? Because if he wasn’t going to be a pastor, it wouldn’t matter that she would make a lousy wife for a pastor. If he loved her and she loved him
⎯

“Hey, Roxy.”

She jumped at the sound of her name, her gaze darting toward the doorway.

Elena’s secretary acknowledged their eye contact with a nod. “Those files your dad wanted you to look at are on your desk.”

“Thanks, Tatia.” She hoped she didn’t look as guilty as she

felt.

“Not a problem.”

Palms against the table, she pushed herself up from the chair.

“Have you heard from Elena today?”

“No. She’s in meetings. I don’t expect her to call until late this afternoon. Did you have a message you want me to give her?”

“No.” Roxy shook her head. “I . . . I can call her myself.

Thanks.”

“Okay.” Tatia gave her a little wave before walking away. Roxy
could
call Elena, but she wouldn’t. Talking to her sis-

ter was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Not with her thoughts and emotions so stirred up and confused.

After filling her coffee cup, she returned to her office and set- tled onto the chair behind the desk. But instead of opening the top file in the stack, she swiveled toward the window and stared at the humpbacked foothills.