Return to Me (23 page)

What if she’d stayed in Boise seven years ago? What if she’d said yes when Wyatt proposed? Would she have made him happy? Would he still love her today? Would she have yearned for what she never had? What would her life look like if she hadn’t gone to Nashville?

She stood and walked to the window where she pressed her forehead against the glass, cool against her skin, and closed her eyes. “Help . . .”

The telephone rang. With a sigh, she turned and reached for the handset. “Roxy Burke.”

“Hi, Roxy. It’s Greg Cooper.” She struggled to place the name.

“From Believers Hillside. We met last Saturday.” “Oh, yes. Greg. I apologize. My mind was elsewhere.”

He chuckled. “I understand. I just called to remind you about rehearsal for the worship team tonight. Bring your Bible. We do a brief study first.”

“That’s tonight?” She tried to think of some excuse not to go. “You’ll have a good time with us.”

She sighed. “Okay. I did promise to come.” “That you did.”

“What time do you start?” “At seven, in the sanctuary.”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “Seven o’clock. I’ll be there.” As she returned the handset to its cradle, she wondered if

Greg’s phone call was God’s answer for her whispered cry for help. Although she couldn’t see what difference singing could make when it came to her troubled thoughts about Wyatt
⎯
questions she’d thought resolved but were back and more perplexing than ever.

=

Several times in the New Testament, the Gospel writers said that Jesus went up on the mountainside to pray. It was clear the Lord knew the importance of solitude.

Today, Wyatt decided to follow His example.

The Subaru Outback gripped the highway curves as it made its way deeper into the national forest. Pine trees clung to hillsides, and the river, high with spring runoff, churned, foamed, and splashed over rocks as it followed the right side of the road, going in the opposite direction from Wyatt. His dog whined from the back.

“We’ll be there soon, Cody, old boy. Hang on.”

True to his word, they arrived at their destination in less than five minutes. Wyatt pulled into the campground and cut the engine. Silence and dust swirled past his window. Midweek, with area schools still in session, the place was deserted.

Wyatt grabbed the small backpack that held his Bible, a tablet, a couple of pens, and two water bottles off the passenger seat before opening the door. Cody barked, demanding to join him.

“Keep your shirt on.” He walked to the back of the car and opened the hatch.

The dog hit the ground at a full run, racing between the lodge pole and ponderosa pines, down to the riverbank, then back to the car again. By that time, Wyatt had the car locked and was ready to go.

He pointed toward the trailhead that would take them deeper into the forest. “Let’s go, boy.”

Cody took off like a shot, leading the way. Wyatt followed at an easier pace.

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come

from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”
When he was a boy, he came up here with friends and their dads several summers in a row. They hiked and fished. They got

dirty and swam in the hot springs. They roasted marshmallows over the campfire and told one another spooky stories that left the boys wakeful when they climbed into their sleeping bags, the tall pines swaying above them.

Those were good times.

Cody ran back to check on him. Wyatt patted the dog’s head and stroked his coat before Cody was off again, chasing something, either seen or imagined.

What do I want? What do I
really
want?

That was the first question he needed to answer. That was the only place to start. And the answer came quickly. He wanted to be a pastor. He wanted it down deep in his very core. He wanted to shepherd God’s flock.

Not only that, but God had called him to this service too. Why had he doubted it, even for a moment? He could look back and see the many ways the Lord had confirmed the calling, over and over again. God had planted the desire to serve Him in Wyatt’s heart, knowing his past, perhaps because of his past. He’d planted the desire knowing that Roxy would return.

Roxy.

Passionate, volatile, beautiful Roxy. She’d burst into his life when they were both young and foolish. She made him laugh when there was little to laugh about. She made him feel loved when he hated himself. Without Roxy, he wouldn’t have met Jonathan, and without Jonathan, he wouldn’t have found faith in Christ. Like it or not, Roxy was a part of that. She was a part of his journey.

But was she to be a part of his future?

The trail steepened before him. About a quarter mile up, he saw a tree had toppled across the path. Cody had found it a great place to chase a ground squirrel
⎯
up, over, around
⎯
barking all the while.

Wyatt whistled between his teeth. “Cody! Quiet, boy.”

The dog obeyed, wagged his tail, and took off up the trail once again.

Into the sudden silence in the forest came thoughts of Elena. Wyatt recalled the way a smile could slowly steal across her mouth, making his heart thump in anticipation. He remembered her gentle comfort when disappointment came his way, as it often had in the early years of their friendship. There was that first time he reached for her hand — it felt small and delicate within his. There was the color that brushed her cheeks as he squeezed her fingers. He envi- sioned the first time he kissed her . . . he’d been as nervous and unsure as any teenager. But the moment he tasted the sweetness of her lips, everything else was forgotten.

He paused on the trail and closed his eyes.

In his mind, he saw Elena the night he proposed. So elegant and refined. Her love for him shining in her eyes. If she had refused his proposal, it would have been the end of him.

He needed Elena. He loved her.

Nothing and no one could alter that love. Not something or someone from the past. Not something or someone in the future.

“God, help me. Don’t let me lose her. I need her with me. I love her, Abba. Show me what to do.”

=

Barbara Canfield, the office administrator of the San Diego store, placed the fork on the lunch plate and crossed her arms over her chest. “Elena, how many years have I known you?”

“I don’t know. Since I was a little girl, I guess.”

“Since before you were conceived. Your dad hired me as a file clerk not long after he and your mother moved to Boise from Colo- rado. That was in 1969.”

Elena rubbed the spot between her eyebrows with two fingers of her right hand. She had another headache coming on. She would love to leave this restaurant and go to her hotel room rather than return to the store.

“I gave your mother her baby shower, and I changed your dia- pers a number of times too.” Barbara leaned forward on the chair. “But never have I seen you behave more childishly than you are now.”

Elena’s eyes widened, and she felt her mouth open and close, like a fish gasping for air on the shore.

A formidable woman with steel-gray hair and eyes to match, Barbara wagged a finger at Elena. “Don’t you say a word until I’m through. And don’t bother to threaten to fire me for speaking my piece either. Your father wouldn’t allow it, and you know it.”

“I never
⎯
”

“Not a
word
, Elena Burke.” Barbara drew a deep breath through her nose and released it, shoulders rising and falling. Her voice softened when she continued. “I watched you and Roxy grow up. You two were as thick as thieves. You always took care of your little sister, especially after your mother died.”

She didn’t want to hear this.

“You don’t have to tell me all the mistakes Roxy made. Remem- ber, I was there for a lot of them. But you’re making a big mistake of your own right now.”

“This isn’t any of your concern.”

“Yes, it is. It’s mine because I love you and I don’t want to see you hurting.”

“Barbara
⎯
”

“You’ve always been sensible and reliable. You love God with all your heart. You’re good with people. Sometimes you are the kindest, most gentle person I know. But, honey, you can also be

unyielding. You’ve set high standards to live by for yourself, but you expect others to live up to them as well. When they don’t, you judge them. Especially Roxy.” She paused. “So I have one question for you, Elena. One simple question. What about grace?”

Elena sucked in a quick breath.

“Are you going to throw away the love of a good man and the love of your sister because you can’t extend grace to either of them?”

Tears welled in Elena’s eyes as she removed the napkin from her lap and set it on the table next to her plate. “I’m not going back to the store.” She stood. “Please see that Amy cancels any appoint- ments I have this afternoon.”

She left the restaurant before Barbara could say anything to stop her.

Twenty-Six

“What about grace?”

Elena lay on the bed, the blinds pulled, the light dim, Barbara Canfield’s question repeating in her mind.

“Are you going to throw away the love of a good man and the love

of your sister because you can’t extend grace to either of them?”

Barbara was being unfair. Elena wasn’t the one who fouled up, who lived a life of debauchery, who failed their father. Why was she the one who had to try to fix things between them?

“What about grace?”

She groaned as she sat up and lowered her legs over the side of the bed.

Barbara had called Elena’s behavior childish. How could she say that? Calling off the wedding had been the
responsible
thing to do. If Wyatt was in love with Roxy
⎯

But what if he isn’t?

Elena froze. Of course he was. Didn’t he say his feelings for Roxy were complicated?

But what if he isn’t
in love
with her?

Unyielding . . . Judgmental . . . What about grace?

Oh, God. Was I wrong about Wyatt? Have I made the biggest mistake of my life?

And if so, is it too late to undo it?

=

On the north side of the trail, the mountain rose steeply, the hill- side spotted with rocks, fallen trees, scraggly pines, yellow and purple wildflowers, and bitterbrush. On the south side of the trail,

the mountain fell away in a sheer drop to the fork of the river far below.

Wyatt sat on a log that had been sawed in half by the forest service years ago. Ants, time, and weather had turned the ends to dust. After slaking his thirst, he poured water into a small plastic bowl he’d brought with him and watched as Cody slurped it up, the dog’s tail wagging like mad.

The hike had done Wyatt good. He’d poured out his heart to God. Then he shut his mouth and tried to listen to what the Lord had to say to him in return. Now, more than three hours after leav- ing his car in the deserted campground, he felt at peace.

“What d’ya say, Cody? Shall we start back?” The dog barked a sharp reply.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He stood. “I’ve got to make that phone call, and if she won’t take it, I’ve got a flight to San Diego to book.”

And I won’t leave California without you, Elena.

They set off down the trail, making good time on the descent. Cody ran ahead, then dashed back to lag behind, depending upon what drew his attention.

Wyatt laughed as the dog stopped behind him, nose buried in the brush. He guessed it would be about two seconds until Cody darted past him aga —

The sound hit Wyatt as he rounded a bend in the trail. His eyes fell to the ground. A rattler lay there, coiled and threatening. Almost without thinking, he jumped out of striking distance. His ankle twisted as his foot landed on a large rock, throwing him off balance. Arms flailing like a windmill, he tried to throw his body uphill, but it was too late.

He went off the south side of the trail.

There was something surreal about the fall. It happened fast, and yet parts seemed to transpire in slow motion. He felt the thuds

as his body slammed the jagged hillside, air whooshing from his lungs. He knew when his arms, legs, and face were scraped and torn by the rough terrain. His hands grabbed for anything that might bring the nightmarish tumble to an end.

Just before he reached the river’s edge, he heard Cody’s riot- ous barking and hoped the fool dog wouldn’t get bit by the rattler. Then his shoulder plowed into a boulder. Pain shot straight into his skull, and he lost consciousness.

A blessed relief.

=

There were seven members of the worship team present that eve- ning plus three members of the sound crew. Roxy was welcomed upon her arrival, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong there. These were good people, good friends, good Chris- tians. They weren’t the subject of office gossip. They weren’t the reason Elena broke her engagement or that Wyatt was giving up the ministry.

The humiliation pressed down on her lungs until she thought it might suffocate her.

Seated on the steps of the stage, Greg Cooper read from his Bible, speaking in a warm, comforting tone. Roxy listened more to the voice and less to the words until a verse managed to cut through her agonized thoughts.

“ ‘You will forget the shame of your youth . . .’ ” She glanced up.

You will forget the shame of your youth . . .

“ ‘For your Maker is your husband — the Lord Almighty is his name . . .’ ”

Everything inside Roxy seemed to reverberate.

“ ‘The Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth.’ ”

It would have been impossible to explain what happened to her heart. How could one describe God’s voice spoken from within? Words inaudible and yet real, loud, profound.

Forgiveness was already hers. She understood that. She’d understood it that night in the bar when she surrendered to God’s love. But forgetfulness was hers too? Forgetfulness for the shame of her youth?

Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

No man
⎯
not Wyatt, not any other
⎯
could be her redeemer.