Читать онлайн книгу "The Prodigal Comes Home"
The Prodigal Comes Home
Kathryn Springer
After ten years away, former wild child Zoey Decker returns to Mirror Lake to care for her ill grandmother. It seems no one will let her forget her teenage rebellion - and the tragic consequences.Except Matthew Wilde, the church's handsome new pastor. Matthew sees the kind, caring Christian Zoey has become. But spending time with her could hurt Matthew's reputation in the close-knit community.And her name will never appear on the town matchmakers' list of possible wives for him. But Matthew has his own list, with only one name - Zoey.
“How long has it been since you two have seen each other?” Matthew asked Zoey.
Zoey stiffened, searching for undercurrents of suspicion in the husky voice. Zoey tried to tell herself it only made sense that his concern would be centered on her grandmother now.
But he probably thought that she had shown up, circling like a vulture, to determine just how sick her grandmother was. He’d seen the condition of her Jeep. The clothing piled in the backseat. More than likely she was down on her luck. Looking for someone to take care of her.
The thought turned Zoey’s stomach.
She wouldn’t try to explain that the reason she’d come back was to give, not take.
It wouldn’t make any difference. As soon as he left, the good pastor would no doubt ask around town—find at least a dozen people who would cheerfully supply all the gruesome details of her past—and he wouldn’t believe her anyway.
KATHRYN SPRINGER
is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since! She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.
The Prodigal Comes Home
Kathryn Springer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear
and put their trust in the Lord.”
—Psalms 40:3
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
She shouldn’t have come back.
The thought raced through Zoey Decker’s mind the moment she spotted a square, unassuming green road sign sprouting from the snow-covered ditch.
Mirror Lake—3 miles.
Spots began to dance in front of her eyes and she stomped on the brake, wrestling the Jeep onto the side of the road. Maybe she should get out of the vehicle for a few minutes. Stretch her legs.
A bracing March wind pinched Zoey’s cheeks as she bailed awkwardly out of the driver’s seat and started down the road, fatigue adding weight to her limbs.
For the past few hours, she’d been telling herself that she’d made the right decision. Now—only a few minutes from her destination—she was having second thoughts.
Zoey’s gaze locked on the sign again.
What was that old saying?
You can’t go home again?
But Mirror Lake had never been home. Not really. It just happened to be the town where her grandparents had retired. The place her parents had dumped her off because they didn’t know how to deal with a full-blown case of teenage rebellion.
And even though Zoey had only lived in Mirror Lake two short years—which must have seemed more like a lifetime to her sixty-five-year-old grandparents—she had definitely made her mark.
A black one…
“Are you lost?”
Zoey whirled around at the sound of a voice behind her. A low, masculine rumble that had her questioning her impulsive decision to stop on a quiet stretch of road sandwiched between two imposing walls of towering white pine.
With not a house in sight.
She hadn’t expected to see anyone. Not this early in the morning. And especially not a man, who’d materialized seemingly out of nowhere.
Zoey caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the six-foot-tall obstacle that now stood between her and the safety of the Jeep. Chiseled features, tousled dark-blond hair. The lean but muscular frame of someone who probably earned his living outdoors.
Under ordinary circumstances, someone of his size shouldn’t have been able to sneak up and catch her unaware—but then again, nothing about the last twenty-four hours had been ordinary. Zoey had spent most of the night navigating miles of national forest, where white-tailed deer far outnumbered the population of the towns she’d driven through.
The guy didn’t look like a criminal. But how was a woman supposed to know who she could and couldn’t trust these days? And if Zoey was completely honest, she knew her track record in that department hadn’t always been the best.
He shifted his stance, a subtle movement that positioned him closer to the vehicle.
Had the action been deliberate?
Zoey suppressed a shiver and rolled her hands up in the hem of the oversized, hand-knit sweater that had been a gift from her grandmother many Christmases ago.
The man noticed the gesture and his eyebrows dipped together in a frown. “Are you lost?” he repeated.
In a different situation, the question might have made Zoey smile. “It depends on who you ask.”
The frown deepened. He obviously didn’t understand her wry sense of humor. “Is something wrong with your car?”
“No.” At least, Zoey silently amended, nothing that could be fixed on the side of the road. She cast a fond look at the eggplant-purple Jeep, decorated with its contrasting pattern of rust, intricate as a henna tattoo. It had outlived its warranty by at least a few thousand miles and yet somehow managed to get her from Point A to B. That was good enough for her. “I’m fine. My car is fine, too.”
Zoey inched forward, silently gauging the distance between them and the vehicle.
He was closer.
“That’s good to know.” The corners of the man’s lips kicked up into a smile and, stranger or not, Zoey could feel her heart doing an impromptu tap dance in her chest. Which only proved she could use a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. “I was out for a run and saw your car parked by the side of the road. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
A good Samaritan.
Now Zoey noticed a detail she’d missed the first time. When you were staring at his face. He wore a standard runner’s uniform. Black sweatpants, a fleece-lined sweatshirt with a faded college logo across the front and tennis shoes.
“I appreciate your concern.” However misplaced. “But I just needed to get out and…stretch my legs for a minute.”
Stretch her legs. Gather her courage. Postpone the inevitable.
All one and the same.
“Stretch your legs.” The thread of doubt in the husky voice made Zoey wince.
Right. Most people would have probably chosen to do that at a rest area or gas station. A place with heat.
“That’s right.” Zoey lifted her chin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She took another step closer to the Jeep.
So did he.
Zoey’s breath hitched in her throat, but all he did was reach out to open the car door for her. And then went still.
Obviously much more observant than she was, he’d immediately spotted the mound of clothing, which happened to be the entire contents of Zoey’s closet, along with an eclectic jumble of her earthly possessions heaped onto the backseat. All evidence of the haste in which she’d left the night before.
To make matters worse, Zoey’s stomach decided to remind her—quite loudly—that it had been more than twelve hours since she’d eaten. She could have grabbed a snack at some point along the way, but she decided that nothing in the deli case of a gas station would peacefully coexist with the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach.
A blush added another layer of color to her already-pink cheeks as the man’s gaze cut back to her. His eyes, a warm palette of green and brown that brought back memories of summer walks through the woods, searched hers. Looking for…something.
Afraid of what he might find there, Zoey looked away.
“There’s a cafe in town. It’s called the Grapevine,” he said after a moment. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee? Maybe some breakfast?”
Disappointment arrowed through her. She should have known better. “Does that line usually work?”
“No…” He caught himself. “I mean, no, it isn’t a line. It’s an…offer.” His gaze dropped to her hands, still balled up in the bright cocoon of her sweater, before flickering over the mountain of clothing once again. “I’m not even inviting myself along. It would be my treat.”
Zoey frowned a little.
He was offering to pay for her breakfast? That didn’t make any sense…
Yes, it did.
He thought she was down on her luck, like a stray kitten who needed food and shelter from the cold.
Zoey stifled a groan as she tried to see herself through his eyes. She hadn’t bothered to change clothes after her evening performance at the dinner theater where she worked, but he wouldn’t know that what she wore was a costume. All he would see were paisley-patterned tights peeking through the slashed knees of her faded jeans. Pink canvas tennis shoes, meant for summer instead of snow. A misshapen patchwork sweater that had definitely seen better days.
And Zoey wasn’t even going to think about what her hair looked like.
Mortified, she slipped past him and dove into the driver’s seat. “No thanks, but I appreciate the offer. Really.”
He stepped back as Zoey pulled the door shut and turned the key in the ignition, hoping the temperamental engine would start. It did, after a brief but grating shudder of protest.
When she finally gathered the courage to glance in the rearview mirror, the man was standing in the exact spot where she’d left him.
Watching her drive away.
“You have to actually drink the coffee, not stare at it, in order for the caffeine to kick in, Pastor.”
Matt Wilde glanced up and saw Kate Nichols, the owner of the Grapevine cafe, standing next to the booth, armed with a coffee pot. He flashed a rueful smile in her direction. “Sorry. I was somewhere else.”
“It must have been somewhere pretty far away,” Kate observed. “Usually you’re on your third cup by now.”
Not so far away, Matt thought. In fact, just a few miles from town.
Corduroy Road had been part of his regular route for over a year. It was a quiet back road that looped around the east side of Mirror Lake. He could have run it blindfolded. And other than the squirrels and birds that chattered at him from the trees, he usually had it all to himself.
Until this morning, when he’d rounded the corner and saw a purple Jeep parked at an angle alongside the road. One look at the rust creeping around the wheel wells and over the bumper like a bad rash and Matt guessed it had broken down.
Then he saw her.
A slight figure marching up and down the road, head bent against the wind. The baggy sweater she wore a kaleidoscope of color against a backdrop of gray and white.
Matt had assumed she was a teenager. Until she turned around.
Dark curls framed a face made up small, sharp angles. Her eyes, which by all rights should have been brown, were a pearl gray that reminded him of the lake just before dawn. A dusting of freckles across her nose made her beauty more winsome than exotic.
He hadn’t been able to put her out of his mind.
Maybe because you bungled things so badly?
Matt couldn’t dismiss the inner voice. Not when it was right.
First he’d startled her. Then he’d insulted her.
He closed his eyes briefly, the memory sawing at his conscience. Instead of understanding that his impulsive offer to buy her breakfast stemmed from compassion, she’d thought he was hitting on her. Hence the hasty departure. The rusty Jeep had lurched forward, the loose tailpipe belching exhaust as she drove away…
“Hey! You left again.” Kate waved the order pad in front of his face, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Your breakfast is coming right up, by the way.”
“I didn’t order breakfast.”
“It’s the most important meal of the day.” Kate topped off his cup and flitted away.
Matt couldn’t summon a smile even though it was a standing joke between them. He would come into the Grapevine and order coffee before going to the church. Kate would return with a plate weighted down with her famous “Lumberjack Special,” a mountain of hash browns topped with scrambled eggs and sausage, surrounded by a moat of maple syrup tapped from a local sugar bush.
When she deposited the plate in front of him a few minutes later, Matt shook his head. “No wonder I have to run five miles.”
Kate grinned. “Enjoy.”
As he ate he thought about this crazy insistence on feeding him that his church members had. Everyone joined in. His congregation at Church of the Pines thought that his bachelor status meant he didn’t know how to fry an egg.
He did, but he never turned down a dinner invitation. Jesus frequently went to peoples’ homes and built relationships around a table. Matt saw no reason not to follow his Savior’s lead.
A blast of cold air rolled into the cafe as the door swung open. Matt’s head jerked up. Maybe the woman on the road had decided to take him up on his offer…and give him an opportunity to apologize. But instead of a waif-like young woman with enormous gray eyes, he saw Harold Dinsman, one of Kate’s regulars, shuffling toward the row of vinyl-covered stools to stake his claim at the old-fashioned soda counter.
“Is there something wrong with your breakfast this morning, Pastor?” Kate stood next to the booth again, staring down at the plate of food he’d barely made a dent in.
“Not a thing. I just decided to surrender earlier than I usually do.” Matt waved a white paper napkin in the air to prove it.
Kate fished the bill out of her apron pocket and handed it to him. “Are you heading over to the church now?”
“Not yet. I’m going to stop by Liz Decker’s house and check on her. She sounded tired when we talked last night.”
Kate began to collect the dishes. “I heard she was released from the hospital yesterday. How is she?”
“Stubborn.” Affection for the older woman, one of Church of the Pines most beloved members, curved Matt’s lips into a smile.
“That’s what everyone loves about her.” Kate smiled back. “So far, she’s been refusing to allow some of us to bring in meals or clean her house because she doesn’t want anyone to ‘fuss’ over her. I hope she changes her mind. She’s supposed to be taking it easy.”
“And that’s what I plan to talk to her about.” Matt glanced at the bill and thumbed through his wallet. “Pray for me.”
Kate chuckled. “With no family in the area, Liz is going to have to let her church family help out. She’s the first one to show up when someone else is in need.”
In the year and a half that Matt had known Liz Decker, he’d certainly found that to be true. Her husband, Jonathan, had passed away from a heart attack before Matt moved to Mirror Lake but she continued to remain active in the church. Not only was Liz the choir director, but she had also volunteered to serve on the search committee the congregation had formed to interview prospective candidates after their former pastor retired.
Unfortunately, the members of that committee had quickly discovered that a church with an average attendance of less than a hundred, located in a small town surrounded by thousands of acres of national forest, didn’t draw a lot of interest, no matter how charming and picturesque. The congregation finally agreed to send out letters of inquiry to several seminaries, hoping to hire a recent graduate to serve as an interim pastor until Church of the Pines found someone who met their requirements.
Matt, with the ink still wet on his diploma and needing the experience, had applied. Liz Decker had been the one who called and offered him the position. Matt had looked at the opportunity to serve as pastor as more than a temporary position—it had been an affirmation. A sign that God had a place and a purpose for him during the times of doubt when Matt wondered if the emotional fallout from a failed relationship hadn’t ruined his chances for both.
At the end of the summer, the elders had asked if he would consider staying on. So far, Matt hadn’t regretted his decision. He’d fallen in the love with the area—and its close-knit community—almost immediately.
The entire congregation had gone out of their way to make him feel at home, especially Liz. The woman had become a combination cheerleader, surrogate grandmother and spiritual advisor, offering plates of homemade treats as often as she offered encouraging passages of scripture.
Matt welcomed the opportunity to take care of her for a change.
“Give Liz my love and remind her that tomorrow is pecan pie day. I’ll drop off a piece on my way home from work,” Kate said before turning her attention to a family settling into the next booth.
“Will do.” Matt shrugged his coat on as an image of the young woman by the road flashed through his mind again.
She hadn’t even been wearing a coat. Or boots, for that matter. Winter hadn’t released its grip on the north woods yet.
Locals knew not to pack away their cold-weather clothes until at least the middle of June.
Unsettled once again by the memory of that unexpected encounter, Matt’s gaze swept over the cars parked on Main Street.
Not a purple Jeep in sight.
But even though he couldn’t see her, Matt knew that God could.
Lord, I don’t know her story. I don’t know who she is or where she’s going, but you do. Please look out for her. If she doesn’t know you, put people into her path who do…
Chapter Two
Zoey’s hands began to tremble as she turned onto Carriage Street. At the end of the dead-end road stood a stately Victorian, tucked behind a screen of gnarled willow trees. Built in the mid-eighteen hundreds, the house remained a charming but faded monument to an era when local lumber barons lived and reigned like royalty.
Most people would have chosen to purchase a cute little log cabin on the lake, but not Jonathan and Elizabeth Decker. After her grandfather retired and Mirror Lake had become their permanent residence rather than a favorite vacation spot, he and Gran had purchased their “dream” home—an authentic “painted lady,” complete with sloping rooflines, gabled windows and a warren of rooms designed to hold company.
And rebellious teenage granddaughters.
Memories began to stir. Everything looked the way Zoey remembered it, as if she were looking at a photograph. The siding still wore a coat of pale orchid paint, staying true to its original color scheme. The front door remained a welcoming butter yellow; the gingerbread trim was a muted shade of sea foam green.
A flameless taper candle burned in every window, night and day.
Tears banked behind Zoey’s eyes as she noticed the ruffled curtains framing the windows in the second-floor turret that overlooked the flower garden. Not only because they still hung there—ten years later—but because she remembered her reaction the first time she’d seen them.
Her grandparents had gone out of their way to make Zoey feel at home when she’d arrived, but bitterness and anger had clouded her vision. She had declared that she was sixteen, not six. She hadn’t appreciated the bedroom, which her grandfather had painted a soft, seashell pink in her honor, nor their effort. She didn’t belong there, with them, any more than she belonged with her parents. Zoey had known it was only a matter of time before her grandparents figured it out, too.
And she’d be sent away again.
At the time, Zoey decided it might not hurt as much if she hastened the process. The fact that her grandparents had refused to cooperate had made her decision feel even worse.
Blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over, Zoey got out of the Jeep and picked her way up the brick walkway that led to the front door, skirting puddles of melting snow.
Maybe she should have called first. But when her mother had contacted her with the news that Gran had just spent a week in the hospital with complications caused by pneumonia, all Zoey could think about was being there for the woman who had once been there for her.
Even if she hadn’t appreciated it at the time.
Gathering up her courage, Zoey tapped her knuckles against the ornate wooden door. A few seconds later, she heard the thump of footsteps across the hardwood floor in the foyer. They were too heavy to be Gran’s, but her grandfather had been gone for several years now.
Guilt caused the knot in Zoey’s throat to swell. She hadn’t come back to Mirror Lake to attend Grandpa Jonathan’s funeral. It would have meant facing her parents—and her past—and Zoey hadn’t been ready. She’d sent a bouquet of flowers instead. And even though she hadn’t signed the card, she’d hoped her grandmother would know who they were from.
The door opened and Zoey could only stare in disbelief at the person on the other side.
It was him.
The man from the road.
Matt, who had come to the door ready to intercept yet another tuna casserole or pan of lemon bars meant for Liz, felt his heart drop to his feet when he saw who was standing on the front stoop. A woman whose features had already become imprinted in his memory.
The heart-shaped face framed by glossy dark curls. Wary gray eyes that seemed to change like the surface of the lake. The intriguing constellation of chocolate-colored freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.
Matt blinked but she didn’t disappear. And she looked equally as stunned—and confused—to see him.
“I…I’m sorry.” She started to back away.
No matter what had brought her here, Matt wasn’t about to lose her again.
“Please, come in for a minute.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “This time of the year, it’s important to keep the hot separate from the cold.”
And he couldn’t help but notice that she still wasn’t wearing a coat.
She wavered for a moment and then slipped into the foyer. Matt closed the door.
“Now, how can I help you?” He instantly regretted the question when color bloomed in her cheeks, as if she were remembering this wasn’t the first time he’d offered his assistance.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m looking for Elizabeth Decker. Does she still…live here?”
In spite of Matt’s initial amazement that the woman he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about was actually there—right in front of him—warning bells began to go off in his head. As long as he’d known Liz, Matt had never heard anyone refer to her as “Elizabeth.” And the fact that the woman from the road wasn’t even sure she had the right address didn’t exactly put his mind at ease, either.
Liz Decker’s reputation for compassion—and generosity—was widely known in the area. Matt wasn’t naive. For every person like Liz, there was always someone willing to take advantage of their kind-hearted nature.
He prayed the woman standing next to him wasn’t one of them, but given the fragile state of Liz’s health, he couldn’t take any chances.
“Yes, Mrs. Decker lives here, but she is resting at the moment. I’ll tell her you stopped by, Ms.…” Matt deliberately let his voice trail off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
“Zoey.”
But it wasn’t the woman standing in front of him who supplied her name.
Matt spun around and saw Liz standing—no, teetering was more like it—in the arched doorway of the parlor, one hand pressed against her chest and the other groping for something to hold on to.
The change in her was alarming. Five minutes ago, they had been sharing a pot of coffee and a plate of cinnamon rolls while Liz, one of those rare people who could find the humor in any situation, entertained him with stories of what Matt guessed had been, in fact, an exhausting weeklong stay in the hospital.
He was at Liz’s side in a heartbeat, tucking her arm through his as she sagged against him.
“I think you better sit down,” he murmured. But his attempt to guide her gently back into the parlor was met with unexpected resistance.
“I’m fine,” Liz gasped, making a feeble attempt to shake him off.
“Gran…I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
Two thoughts collided in Matt’s mind. The woman—Zoey—had followed him down the hall. And she’d just called Liz “Gran.”
His gaze bounced back and forth between the two. Both women had the chalk-like pallor and dazed expressions of victims from an accident scene.
“Okay, I have another idea. Let’s all sit down.” To Matt’s surprise, the young woman took Liz’s other arm. Together they shepherded her toward the comfortable settee in front of the fireplace. Once Liz was settled against the cushions, Matt poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the coffee table and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
To his relief, the cracks in Liz’s voice had mended and she sounded more like herself. Her color began to return, too, although she still wore the shell-shocked look of someone who had just received bad news.
And maybe she had.
Matt’s gaze flicked to Zoey, who had perched on the edge of a wingback chair, fingers knotted together in her lap. The mixture of regret and worry simmering in her eyes appeared genuine.
He tried to remember what Liz had told him about her family. He knew she had a son and daughter-in-law on the mission field in Africa, but to his recollection she hadn’t said anything about grandchildren. Or, more specifically, a granddaughter.
He looked for a physical resemblance between the two but failed to find one. Not only was the color of their hair and eyes different, but Matt was also unable to whittle Liz’s soft, rounded features down to the spare, delicate brush strokes that made up Zoey’s face.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Liz said, fumbling with a pair of glasses suspended by two gold chains around her neck.
Zoey ducked her head when Liz put them on, as if she didn’t want to give her the opportunity to take a closer look. “I should have called first,” she murmured.
Liz dismissed the words instantly. “Don’t be silly. The door is always open to friends. And family.”
Zoey flinched but Liz didn’t seem to notice. She turned to Matt. “This is my granddaughter, Zoey Decker,” she said, a radiant smile beginning to bloom on her face now that the initial shock had begun to fade. “Zoey, this is Matthew Wilde. He is one of my very good friends and the pastor at Church of the Pines.”
Matt had gotten used to people’s initial surprise when they discovered he was a minister. He wasn’t sure if their reaction had something to do with the fact that was in his early thirties or because he preferred blue jeans and T-shirts to a suit and tie.
But Zoey Decker didn’t look surprised.
She looked horrified.
It was a good thing she was sitting down because Zoey’s knees turned to liquid. Again. Especially since she hadn’t completely recovered from the shock of seeing him open the front door.
“It’s nice to meet you, Zoey,” Matthew Wilde—Pastor Wilde—said quietly.
She managed a jerky nod, wondering if he would mention the fact that they already had met.
As humiliating as their brief encounter had been, Zoey hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. The man knew nothing about her and yet the genuine concern in his eyes when he’d offered to buy her breakfast had touched a chord deep inside of her.
Maybe that’s why he was concerned, an inner voice mocked. Because he doesn’t know you. If he did, he would have kept right on going…
At least Matthew Wilde’s erroneous assumption that she could use a free meal had motivated her to stop at the first gas station she saw to seek out a mirror. What she saw there had prompted her to take some time to wash up, finger comb her hair into some resemblance of order and dab on a layer of makeup to hide the circles under her eyes. Zoey had also driven around the lake and stopped to watch the rippling waters before gathering up the courage to return to the house on Carriage Street.
“You didn’t drive all night, did you?” Gran leaned forward, in full “hospitality mode” now. “Are you hungry?”
Zoey couldn’t look at Matthew Wilde, who probably could have guessed the answer to both questions. “No, I’m—”
The pastor neatly cut her off. “Even if you had breakfast, you can’t pass up one of these cinnamon rolls.” He transferred one to a plate and handed it to her.
Zoey couldn’t refuse without appearing rude. She balanced the plate on one knee, her throat so tight she knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite.
“There’s coffee left in the carafe…” Liz paused and shook her head. “Listen to me! Do you drink coffee, Zoey, or would you prefer something else?”
“Coffee is fine. Thank you.”
Before she could finish the sentence, the pastor had poured her a cup.
Silence swelled and filled in the empty spaces between them. Zoey picked at the edge of the cinnamon roll, if only to give her hands something to do. She could feel the weight of two pairs of eyes.
Suddenly, her grandmother chuckled. “Oh my goodness—that sweater you’re wearing! I can’t believe you kept it all these years. It was my first project after I joined Esther Redstone’s knitting group.”
“I love it.” Zoey looked down and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth down another one of the loops that had worked its way loose in the wash.
Over the years, the sweater had moved with her when she’d been forced to leave other things behind. It might have become a little misshapen and fuzzy, but Zoey hadn’t been able to part with it.
“Your grandpa teased me while I was making it. He said it would be more suited for a man named Joseph than a girl named Zoey. He was right, you know.” A smile deepened the creases fanning out from Liz’s brown eyes. “I must have used every color of yarn in the shop.”
At the mention of her grandfather, Zoey felt that familiar pinch of regret. “I remember.”
“How long has it been since you two have seen each other?” Matthew directed the question at Zoey.
She stiffened, searching for undercurrents of suspicion in the husky voice. Zoey tried to tell herself it only made sense that his concern would be centered on her grandmother now.
He knew Liz.
But he probably thought that she had shown up, circling like a vulture, to determine just how sick her grandmother was. He’d seen the condition of her Jeep. The clothing piled in the backseat. More than likely, he thought she was looking for someone to take care of her.
The idea turned Zoey’s stomach.
She wouldn’t try to explain that the reason she’d come back was to give, not take.
It wouldn’t make any difference. As soon as he left, the good pastor would no doubt ask around town—find at least a dozen people who would cheerfully supply all the gruesome details of her past—and he wouldn’t believe her anyway.
“Much too long.” Gran answered the question, reaching out and giving Zoey’s hand a comforting squeeze.
Zoey fought the urge to cling to her. When she’d made the impulsive decision to drive to Mirror Lake and see Gran, she hadn’t anticipated the avalanche of feelings her visit would trigger.
She hadn’t expected that a place she had lived for two short, unhappy years of her life would feel like coming home.
Like the outside of the house, the inside looked exactly the way she remembered it. Right down to the powder-blue velvet furniture and the collection of porcelain birds decorating the fireplace mantle.
And Gran…she may have added a few more lines, but she was as sweet and warmhearted as Zoey remembered.
Maybe the only thing that had changed was her.
Not that Zoey expected anyone—not even her grandmother—to believe it.
“You can stay for lunch, can’t you? Or are you just passing through Mirror Lake?”
The sudden quaver in Liz’s voice seared Zoey’s conscience. Although she had plenty of reasons, there was no indication that her grandmother was suspicious of her unexpected arrival.
Zoey sneaked a look at Matt and found those hazel eyes trained on her. Waiting for her response, too. “Mom told me that you’d just gotten out of the hospital.”
“You talked to your mother?” There was no disguising the pleased surprise in Gran’s voice.
“I thought maybe I could stay and help you out for awhile.” Zoey didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother by confessing that they hadn’t really spoken—she’d listened to the voice mail message Sara Decker had left. “If you…need me, I mean,” she added quickly.
The color drained from Liz’s face again and Matt put a protective hand on her arm. “Liz? Are you all right?”
“I’m more than all right.” Gran took a deep breath and patted his hand before turning a smile on Zoey that warmed her from the inside out. “I’d love for you to stay with me, sweetheart. And you are welcome for as long as you’d like.”
Chapter Three
That was it?
No questions?
Because Matt had a truckload of them, even if Liz didn’t.
Judging from the interaction he’d witnessed between the two women, it was clear they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. And it didn’t take a trained counselor—which Matt happened to be—to figure out that some of Zoey’s tension seemed to stem from her uncertainty over how she would be received.
But that didn’t make sense, either. Liz was known for her hospitality. She was the kind of woman who encouraged people to drop in without an invitation.
“Matthew?” Liz turned to him. “Do you have time to help Zoey carry her things in?”
Before he could reply, Zoey surged to her feet. “That’s okay, Gran, I don’t need his help. I don’t have much. Just some clothes.”
And apparently she didn’t want Liz to know those clothes were piled on the backseat of her vehicle.
A frown deepened the row of pleats across Liz’s forehead. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. And I’m sure that…Pastor Wilde has other things to do instead of play bellhop.”
To her nonexistent luggage, Matt thought.
Their eyes met. Hers begged him not to say the words out loud.
“I do have an appointment at nine.” Matt took his cue and stood up. “I’m sure you two ladies have a lot of catching up to do.”
“We do at that, don’t we, Zoey?” Liz beamed. “I’ll have a fresh pot of coffee on by the time you get settled.”
“Gran, please.” Zoey bit down on her lower lip. “I didn’t come here so you could fuss over me. I came to fuss over you, remember?”
Liz closed her eyes, as if savoring something sweet. “I like the sound of that.”
“Really?” Matt lifted a skeptical brow. “You might like the ‘sound’ of it and yet you fight it all the way.”
“That’s not completely true,” Liz protested.
Matt looked at Zoey. “You did catch the word ‘completely,’ didn’t you?”
Zoey’s lips curved in a brief, tentative smile that had the power to derail his initial reservations like a runaway freight train.
“You can stay in your old bedroom, Zoey,” Liz went on. “I’m afraid, though, that it looks exactly the same way as it did when you left.”
Your old bedroom?
Matt tried to hide his astonishment. The comment made it sound as if the arrangement had been permanent at one time.
Which made it even more unbelievable that Liz had never mentioned a granddaughter.
“I could stay in the carriage house,” Zoey ventured. “That way, I won’t be underfoot but I’ll still be close by if you need me.”
Liz waved her hand in the air, brushing away the comment the way she would a pesky fly. “What I need is a little noise in this drafty old house. There’s plenty of room for the two of us.”
“But…”
“And the carriage house isn’t available,” Liz interrupted.
“Oh.” Zoey looked confused. “I thought maybe you and grandpa had gone ahead with your original plan to convert it into an apartment.”
“Oh, we did,” Liz said cheerfully. “That’s why it isn’t available. Matthew lives there now.”
Zoey’s gaze flew to his face. Matt expected to see dismay or even resentment in her eyes. All he saw was a resigned acceptance that had him struggling against a sudden urge to apologize.
He turned to Liz instead. “I’ll come by later this afternoon,” he promised. “And by the way, Kate said to remind you that tomorrow is pecan pie day, so she’s going to stop over and drop off a piece.”
“That’s wonderful. Zoey and I will have to share.” Liz lifted her face and Matt dutifully pressed a kiss against the weathered cheek.
“I’ll be right back, Gran.” Zoey started toward the door, then paused to level a stern look in her grandmother’s direction. “Promise me that you won’t lift a finger to do anything until I get back. I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on.”
Liz sighed. “I promise.”
Matt had sensed that Liz was beginning to tire but hadn’t expected Zoey to notice. The fact that she had—and also that she knew her grandmother didn’t like to sit still—put some of his concerns to rest.
Liz seemed genuinely thrilled that her granddaughter had shown up out of the blue.
Matt was happy for her, too, but that wasn’t going to stop him from finding out just who Zoey Decker was.
And the real reason she’d come to Mirror Lake.
Up until the moment Gran had embraced her, Zoey had half-expected to be turned away, the way she had once pushed her grandparents away, declaring that she didn’t need them.
But Gran had immediately put her fears to rest, with no hint of resentment or censure in her eyes.
Zoey had a long way to go to make amends, but at least Gran was willing to give her a chance.
“Here. This might help.”
A cardboard box was deposited at her feet next to the Jeep. Zoey didn’t have to turn around to know who was there. The breeze carried the faint scent of Matt’s cologne, a clean, masculine scent that had, along with his smile, remained stubbornly lodged in her memory.
“Thank you.” Zoey dropped an armful of jeans into the box, inwardly chiding herself for not taking the time to retrieve her suitcase from her landlord’s storage unit.
A pink kneesock decorated with winged musical notes tumbled to the ground, but before Zoey could swoop down and retrieve it, Matt got there first.
“Here you go.”
She plucked it from his hand.
Was there no end to the man’s charity? Zoey wondered.
There will be. Just wait.
The thought almost made her drop the Bible she’d wrapped in a stack of T-shirts.
Matt propped a hip against the side of her car. In spite of his comment that he had to get back to the church for an appointment, he seemed in no hurry to leave. “Liz was happy to see you. I haven’t seen her look so perky in quite a while. A lot of us have been concerned about her. Contracting pneumonia was bad enough, but the complications that kept her in the hospital an extra week took quite a toll on her health.”
“I didn’t find out that she was in the hospital until yesterday,” Zoey muttered.
That was her fault, too.
Her parents had grown accustomed to her avoiding contact with them. They never failed to send a card for her birthday or on holidays, but the majority of communication had been reduced to a few stilted conversations spread out over the year.
Regret sliced through Zoey. She could have been here sooner. Could have sat next to Gran’s hospital bed, the way Gran had once sat next to hers…
The memories pressed down on her conscience and she tried to shake them away. The effort drained Zoey’s already-depleted reserve of energy. She picked up a tasseled silk pillow, resisting the urge to bury her face in it.
“How far did you drive?”
Here it was. Question Number One. Zoey braced herself for the inquisition.
“A few hours. I live near Lake Delton.”
“Wisconsin Dells area?”
Zoey nodded curtly, wishing he would go away. She swept up the box as he bent down to retrieve it. “I’ve got it.”
Matt straightened, parking his hands on his hips. Zoey tried not to stare. He’d been attractive in loose-fitting sweats. In faded jeans, a marled blue fisherman’s sweater and hiking boots, he looked more like the cover model for a popular outdoor men’s magazine.
“Liz is special,” Matt said after a moment. “Everyone loves her. She sort of became my adoptive grandmother when I moved to town…” He paused.
Here it comes, Zoey thought.
The Warning.
You better not take advantage of her a) hospitality, b) generosity, c) kindness. Or d) all of the above.
“I’m glad you’re here, Zoey. She needs her family.”
Family.
The word echoed through the hollow places in Zoey’s heart.
It was the best…and the worst…thing he could have said.
What had he said?
Matt watched myriad emotions skim through Zoey’s expressive eyes, as if he’d skipped a rock across the lake and created ripples across the surface.
“It looks like she has you, too.” Zoey looked down at the ground. The winter sunlight had gained strength as the morning wore on and brought out a cherry-cola sheen in the tangle of dark curls that skimmed her shoulders.
“She does.” Matt wondered why Zoey had such a difficult time looking at him. “She has a lot of people who care about her.”
Zoey slammed the door of the Jeep, triggering an avalanche of rust that rained onto his boots.
Matt thought he heard her groan.
“Are you sure you don’t need help with that?”
“I can manage on my own.”
Without even trying, he’d managed to insult her again.
“But…thank you.” Zoey’s voice was so soft, Matt had to strain to hear the words. “I’m glad you’ve been here. To look out for Gran.” Her expression turned wistful as she stared at the house.
She continued to surprise him. An intriguing mix of toughness and vulnerability. Honesty and secrets.
“I’m sorry about the carriage house,” he heard himself say. “After the last pastor retired, the congregation voted to sell the parsonage to cut down on costs. Liz mentioned she had a separate apartment and asked if I’d be interested in living there.”
Matt remembered the conversation as if it had taken place the day before. Liz had not only offered him a place to live, but she’d also informed him that she and Jonathan had always planned to use the extra apartment space as a “blessing” to others and refused to accept any rent.
“Don’t worry about it.” Zoey’s slim shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Gran’s right. There’s plenty of room in the house and I’ll be able to hear her if she gets up in the night.”
“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re there, that’s for sure.”
“Will you?” she asked evenly.
For a man who’d frequently been told that he was “eloquent,” Matt didn’t know what to say. It was almost as if she expected him to be suspicious of her.
“Yes.” Based on what he’d seen so far, it was the truth.
Zoey took a step back. “I better go inside before Gran decides to put fresh sheets on the bed.”
“It was nice to meet you. Again.” Matt smiled in a blatant attempt to coax one out of her. Because smiles were supposed to be contagious, weren’t they?
It didn’t work.
She pivoted away from him, hugging the box against her chest.
Matt had the distinct impression that Zoey Decker kept her secrets just as close.
Zoey collapsed facedown on the comforter covering the canopy bed and immediately sank into a cloud of lavender-scented chiffon. Lace from the pillow sham ticked her nose so she rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Above her head, an uneven constellation of plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars circled the antique light fixture.
Oh, Gran.
Zoey wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Although she’d been warned that her old bedroom hadn’t undergone any significant changes, Zoey hadn’t been prepared to open the door and be instantly transported into the past, courtesy of a frothy pink and white time machine.
Everything remained exactly the way she remembered it.
Exactly the way she’d left it.
Her gaze traveled over the interior of the room, pausing to linger on the distressed ivory writing desk and matching bookcase. The latter still sported the row of first-edition Nancy Drew mysteries that Gran had proudly offered for her entertainment. An oversized tufted ottoman, complete with gold buttons and a tasseled skirt, remained in front of the window as if it had been nailed in place, its strategic position designed to encourage what her Grandpa Jonathan had often referred to as “pondering.”
At sixteen, Zoey had put that particular piece of furniture to good use. She had sat cross-legged on it for hours, staring out the window.
Pondering her escape.
Time—both in the push and shove of the real world and, more recently, on her knees—had slowly begun to alter her perspective.
Her grandparents hadn’t been overly strict, but Zoey had been looking for a fight. Any rules, no matter how reasonable, were turned into a battle ground. She hadn’t wanted to give her grandparents a difficult time. No, what she’d wanted was to get her parents’ attention.
Zoey remembered how many times her grandparents had tried to get close to her, but she’d always pushed them away. After she moved out, that pattern had continued, like the steps of an intricate dance. Zoey had practiced—and perfected—it over the years.
Until she realized that God hadn’t left her side.
He had been there to take her hand and lift her up, but Zoey had never expected He would lead her back to Mirror Lake.
“It won’t be so bad,” she told the stuffed bear perched on the windowsill. “Gran’s practically a shut-in. I’ll stick close to the house until she’s back on her feet. People will hardly know I’m here.”
Zoey sat up, debating whether she should check on Gran again. It was difficult to acknowledge how much of her grandmother’s energy had been stolen by the bout of pneumonia and an extended stay in the hospital. Gran had always seemed so…ageless. But Zoey had come face to face with reality when she returned to the house and found Gran dozing on the sofa.
With her eyes closed, Liz looked so small and frail that Zoey wanted to wrap her arms around the thin shoulders and share some of her own strength.
She’d draped an afghan over Gran’s lap instead, intending to beat a quiet retreat and finish unpacking the rest of her things.
“Zoey?” Gran had stirred before she reached the door. “Are you still here?”
“You aren’t going to get rid of me that easily.”
Gran looked troubled. “I wouldn’t want to.”
Zoey hoped they would eventually get to the place where the past didn’t cast a shadow on every conversation. Every innocent comment.
“Gran, why don’t you finish your nap while I unpack?”
“That sounded more like an order than a suggestion.” Gran had chuckled, the sparkle back in her eyes. “Between you and Matthew, I’m going to be spoiled rotten.”
You and Matthew.
Her grandmother’s words cycled through Zoey’s mind and she yanked the pillow over her head. It didn’t, however, blot out the image of Matt Wilde’s handsome face or erase the warmth of his smile from her memory.
Maybe, Zoey thought, it was all right to hold onto the memory of that smile a little bit longer.
When people started talking about her—and Zoey knew they would—she was pretty sure she wouldn’t see it again.
Chapter Four
“Gran! What are you doing?” Zoey crossed her arms over her chest and tried to stare her grandmother down.
The house had been so quiet while she’d finished putting away her things that Zoey assumed Gran was still sleeping. Not standing on her tiptoes in front of the fireplace, attacking the flock of porcelain birds perched on the mantle with a bright-yellow feather duster.
“Dusting?” Gran stared right back.
“I can see that.” Zoey’s lips twitched. At least her grandmother had the grace to look guilty. “My next question is, why are you dusting?”
“Because I could have sworn I heard one of these poor birds sneeze.”
Zoey gave up trying to keep a straight face and laughed. “I have a great idea. It involves you sitting in your favorite chair, sipping a cup of tea by the fire, while I take care of the birds. And anything else that you’re planning to clean the minute my back is turned.”
“A cup of tea sounds wonderful, but sharing your company while I drink it sounds even better.”
There was no mistaking the sincerity in her grandmother’s voice.
Regret tangled with gratitude. For the past six years, Zoey had told herself that the best thing she could do for her grandparents was stay away from Mirror Lake. She’d caused enough heartache without an occasional visit stirring up the past.
Zoey was beginning to realize she’d been wrong to let that particular rationalization create such a rift between them. But she hadn’t known how to bridge it, not until her mother had left the message expressing her concern about Gran managing on her own while she recovered from pneumonia.
Zoey had been praying that God would help her move forward, but she hadn’t expected it would mean facing the past. It was as if He had opened a door for reconciliation and left it up to Zoey to decide whether to walk through it. A few hours later, she’d been driving north.
“I’ll make the—” Gran paused when Zoey raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll let you make the tea.”
“Great. Then we have a deal.” Zoey patted the arm of the chair and waited for her grandmother to comply. Gran looked more rested from her nap, but the purple smudges under her eyes hadn’t faded. The steps she took were slow and careful, as if she had to concentrate on every one.
Zoey resisted the urge to hover as Liz lowered herself into the chair.
“I’m afraid that I’m used to being useful,” she admitted.
“I know.” Zoey draped an afghan over her grandmother’s lap. Ten years was a long time but not long enough for her to forget how Gran loved to keep busy, deliberately placing herself at the center of a whirlwind of activity, especially when it came to her church.
Unbidden, Matt Wilde’s face appeared in her mind. She still couldn’t believe the church had hired someone so young.
And single.
Zoey ignored the mischievous inner voice. So she’d happened to notice that the pastor hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring. What difference did it make? A man as kind and drop-dead gorgeous as Matt had to be in a serious relationship. Probably even engaged…
And why on earth do you care?
Even if she had time to date, which she didn’t, Zoey knew she would never consider a serious relationship with someone involved in ministry. As the daughter of a pastor-turned-missionary, Zoey had buckled under the weight of peoples’ expectations. There was no way she would put herself into that situation again.
Not that someone like Matthew Wilde would ever ask her to…
Zoey put the brakes on those wayward thoughts before they could take her any further down that dangerous path.
“You’ll be back on your feet in no time, Gran,” she promised. “And you are being useful. You’re going to tell me what to do, remember?”
“All right.” Gran smiled. “While you finish dusting, you have to tell me everything that’s happened to you in the last ten years.”
Zoey took a deep breath. “I’d rather tell you about the last six months.”
A look of understanding dawned and tears sprang into Liz’s eyes. “You’re a believer now, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been a believer a long time,” Zoey said softly. “Now, I would have to say that I’m a…follower.”
“Delia Peake is here to see you, Pastor.” Cheryl Mullins, the part-time church secretary, looked up as Matt walked in. “She wanted to wait in your office.”
“And you didn’t want to tell her no.” Matt grinned.
“I’d rather sharpen a pencil with my teeth.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly.” Cheryl patted her very pregnant belly. “I’m a month from my due date and the doctor told me to avoid stress.”
“Then you made the right decision.” Matt glanced at the clock on the wall. He usually left the church at four, but experience had taught him that pastors didn’t hold to regular hours. He was on call 24/7.
And he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“You don’t have to stick around, Cheryl. I can lock up when I leave.”
His secretary didn’t bother to hide her relief. “Great.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Matt walked down the narrow hallway, he heard the muffled tap tap tap of Delia’s walking cane against the faded Berber carpet in his office.
“Hello, Mrs. Peake.”
She had bypassed a comfortable chair by the window and commandeered the one behind the desk. His desk.
Matt’s lips twitched as he pulled up another chair.
“Pastor Wilde.” From the first time they’d met, Delia insisted on addressing him more formally than the rest of his congregation, most of whom called him by his first name. “How is Liz?”
It had become a common question over the past few weeks, given the fact that Matt was not only Liz’s pastor, but also her closest neighbor. “She seems to be doing a little better.”
Especially now.
For most of the day, Matt had found his thoughts drifting back to Zoey. Wondering how she and Liz were doing. What they were talking about. When one of the men in his congregation had called and asked for some insight on a passage of scripture, Matt had jumped at the chance to focus his attention on something else. And it didn’t hurt that their discussion had taken place while they split a cord of firewood.
After Matt was hired, he made sure people knew he wanted to see them for more than an hour on Sunday mornings. He wanted the majority of his ministry to take place outside the walls of the church.
Delia pursed her lips. “When I called her yesterday, Liz wasn’t in a very talkative mood.”
“I’m sure she was just tired.” Matt linked his hands behind his head. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Peake?”
The question didn’t bring about the results he’d hoped for—nudging Delia back on track.
“She’s a stubborn woman, our Liz. When I visited her at the hospital last week, she mentioned that she’s still planning to direct the Easter cantata next month.” Delia shook her head. “Of course I told her that she wouldn’t be in any shape to take on that responsibility this year.”
“Of course you did.” Matt tried not to wince. He had deliberately avoided bringing up the subject of the cantata to Liz, knowing that she didn’t need anything else to worry about.
“Well, someone has to make her listen to reason.” Delia agreed, happy to have accepted the role. “There isn’t a lot of time to pull it together. Some people think we should simply cancel it this year.”
Judging from her tone, it was clear she was one of them.
“Let’s see what the Lord has to say before we make a decision,” Matt suggested mildly. “Someone else might step forward and volunteer to take Liz’s place this year.”
Delia harrumphed. “I suppose that could happen.”
“I’ll talk to Liz when the time is right.” Matt pressed down on the last word, hoping to get his point across. “We have at least a week before a final decision needs to be made. By that time, Liz should have a better idea whether or not she feels up to directing the cantata.”
At the moment, Matt couldn’t think of anyone more capable of organizing the special service that Church of the Pines held every Easter, but it was a lot of work and he didn’t want to jeopardize Liz’s recovery. Still, Matt knew her well enough to know that if she were pushed to make a decision, she would say “yes” simply to relieve him of the burden of having to find someone else.
“You can count on me keeping a close eye on her.” Delia’s pink-tipped walking cane struck the floor, punctuating the statement like an exclamation point. “I’m planning to stop by her place for a visit every day until she can get out and about.”
For some reason, the thought of Delia and Zoey coming face to face unsettled him. The older woman had good intentions, but not many people saw them, hidden as they were behind a rather formidable personality. The wave of protectiveness that crashed over Matt surprised him. Especially given the fact that Zoey had let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she could take care of herself.
He hesitated. “I’m sure Liz would appreciate the thought, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
The sudden gleam of interest in the woman’s eyes made Matt regret bringing it up.
“She has family staying with her now.”
“Family.” Delia brightened. “Paul and Sara came back from Africa for a visit? I’m sure Liz is thrilled. They haven’t been back since Jonathan’s funeral.”
“It’s not her son. Her granddaughter, Zoey, is going to stay with Liz for awhile.”
Delia’s eyes bulged. “Zoey Decker is here? In Mirror Lake? Staying with Liz?”
“Yes, to all three questions.” Matt tipped his head, puzzled by the strange reaction. “Do you…know Zoey?”
Delia’s expression turned as bleak as a January morning.
“Unfortunately, everyone in Mirror Lake knows Zoey Decker.”
“Will you set the table for three, please, sweetheart?”
The simple endearment warmed Zoey’s heart, especially when it came on the heels of a lengthy conversation in which she’d condensed the ups and downs of the last ten years. And there’d definitely been more downs than ups.
The tea in their cups had cooled while she talked and Gran had listened. Zoey thought that telling her story would have once again left her feeling burdened by the past. Instead, she felt curiously relieved. Lighthearted.
Gran had forgiven her for the mistakes she’d made—and the ones she’d compounded by separating herself from her family. Zoey could see it in her eyes. It occurred to her that it had been there all along. From the moment she’d arrived.
And maybe, although Zoey could barely wrap her mind around it, even before.
If only she were finding it as easy to forgive herself.
She pulled a wooden chair out from the table, a gentle reminder to Gran that she was in charge of kitchen duty.
“You’re having company for supper tonight?” Zoey asked as she zeroed in on one of the kitchen cabinets and opened the door. A set of powder-blue stoneware dishes was stacked neatly on the other side, the way she remembered. Strange how she now found comfort in the things she’d spent years trying to forget.
“We’re having company,” her grandmother corrected. “Matthew has a standing invitation every Thursday night.”
Zoey stifled a groan. By now Matt—the pastor—would know everything about her. And she doubted he would be as forgiving as her grandmother. “I don’t want to intrude on your time together. I can eat upstairs. Or in the family room.”
Anywhere but at the kitchen table.
Liz brushed aside the suggestion. “You won’t be intruding, Zoey. I’m sure Matt is anxious to get to know you.”
Probably to make sure I’m not stealing your silver spoon collection, Zoey wanted to say.
To hide her dismay, she lifted the lid on the Noah’s ark cookie jar that still occupied the corner next to the sink. Sure enough, it was filled with molasses cookies, the crisp tops sparkling with sugar. Gran had shared them with the people who stopped in for a visit as generously as she gave of her time. And prayers.
Sometimes Zoey wondered if Gran’s faithful prayers had been instrumental in leading her back to faith.
“I couldn’t keep that cookie jar full when you lived here. Help yourself.”
Hearing the amusement in Gran’s voice, Zoey blinked back the unexpected tears that stung her eyes. The time she’d lived in Mirror Lake had been so short, she hadn’t realized how many memories remained cradled in her heart.
She tried to match her grandmother’s tone. “Aren’t you afraid it will spoil my appetite if I eat dessert first?”
“Then we’ll call the cookies an appetizer.” Gran winked and held out her hand. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Zoey dipped into the ceramic jar and pulled out two cookies, one for Gran and one for herself. “Do you want me to heat up one of the casseroles for supper?”
“Oh, no. Thursday is pizza night. Matthew started it a few months ago.”
Matthew again.
She forced a smile. “I don’t mind making dinner but I think that you and Pastor Wilde…well, you know what they say, Gran. Three’s a crowd, right?”
“I always liked ‘the more, the merrier’ myself.”
Zoey froze at the sound of a voice behind her. The voice belonging to the man who’d already managed to sneak up on her twice in one day. She was afraid to look at him. Afraid to see censure or—even worse—disapproval in the hazel eyes that had been full of concern earlier that morning.
“You’re right on time, Matthew,” Gran sang out. “Yesterday I have to admit that I was feeling a little sorry for myself and tonight I’m having supper with my two favorite people.”
Zoey dared a glance in Matt’s direction. He wasn’t glaring at her in disapproval. He wasn’t glaring at all.
“I didn’t stop by for supper,” Matt said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You just got home from the hospital yesterday and you have your granddaughter visiting. That means I’m officially releasing you from the burden of my company tonight.”
Zoey was immune to his smile. She really was. And it wasn’t as if it were directed at her.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Matthew,” Gran clucked her tongue. “Your company isn’t a burden. Is it, Zoey?”
Zoey hesitated a split second too long. “No, not at all.”
Matt sauntered in, altogether too attractive for Zoey’s peace of mind. He peeled off a fleece-lined leather jacket that emphasized the width of his shoulders and draped it over the back of the chair. “In that case, I’d love to stay.”
“Wonderful.” Gran clapped her hands together.
Wonderful.
Zoey’s knees went a little weak at the thought of spending more time in Matt’s company.
She made a silent calculation in an attempt to steady them. And her nerves. It only took twelve minutes to bake a frozen pizza. With luck, the pastor would be gone in an hour. Maybe less.
Zoey scooted over to the freezer, wishing she could crawl inside, and scanned the contents. Towers of plastic containers, neatly labeled, crowded the small space.
“Where’s the pizza, Gran?”
Her grandmother chuckled. “You have to make it.”
“I know.” Zoey glanced over her shoulder and her gaze snagged with Matt’s. The slow smile he aimed in her direction shot through her like a comet. She tore her gaze away and focused on Gran. Much safer. “But I don’t see one to make.”
“I’m sorry.” Gran looked anything but. In fact, she looked as if she were enjoying Zoey’s confusion. “Matthew and I make the pizza from scratch.”
“From…scratch?”
“That’s right.” Matt answered the question. “But don’t worry. Liz and I will walk you through it. It isn’t difficult.”
Liz lifted her hand and covered a delicate yawn. “Actually, I’m feeling a little tired so I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said. “Let me know when it’s ready.”
“Gran!” Zoey choked on the word.
“Don’t worry. Matthew knows his way around the kitchen.” Gran toddled off without a backward glance.
That’s not what Zoey was worried about.
“I guess it’s just the two of us,” Matt said.
Zoey managed a smile.
“I guess it is.”
Chapter Five
Zoey didn’t look happy at the way things had turned out. Matt, however, didn’t mind a bit. Even though he had been willing to bow out of his standing Thursday night dinner invitation with Liz, he had secretly hoped she would invite him to stay.
On his way over from the church, Matt had had a lengthy conversation with God about Zoey.
Who, he suddenly noticed, hadn’t moved since Liz left the room.
What could he say to put her at ease?
“You changed clothes.”
Zoey’s eyes widened.
Okay, that wasn’t it. But he couldn’t help but notice that the oversized sweater had been replaced by a long-sleeved T-shirt that outlined the subtle curves of her slender frame. Apple-green ballet shoes peeked out below the hem of a multicolored, ankle-length skirt.
“Yes.” Color bloomed in Zoey’s cheeks. “What I was wearing this morning…that was my costume.”
“Costume?” To hide his surprise, Matt opened the refrigerator and pulled out a package of crisp green peppers and fresh mushrooms. Staples in Liz’s kitchen for what had become a Thursday night tradition.
“I left right after work last night. When my mother called and left the message about Gran, I wanted to get to Mirror Lake as soon as possible.”
The sincerity in Zoey’s voice was unmistakable, but Matt couldn’t help but wonder why it had been so long since she’d visited.
He wanted to know more about her, but he wanted it to come straight from Zoey, not someone else. Delia Peake had seemed more than willing to explain her negative reaction to the news of Zoey’s return had Matt given her the opportunity. But he would never encourage a member of his congregation, or anyone else for that matter, to spread gossip, no matter what the situation. So he’d declined to hear it.
“A costume.” Matt tilted his head. “What do you do?”
“I work at a dinner theater in the Wisconsin Dells.”
“That sounds like fun. In what capacity?”
Zoey’s lips parted but no sound came out. The sudden confusion in her eyes made Matt wonder if she’d had to defend her chosen career in the past.
“I’m part of the cast,” Zoey said after a moment. “We rotate shows throughout the year and offer special performances over the holidays. Everything we do is family-friendly.”
“I’ve heard that part of the state is a great vacation spot but I’ve never been there.” Matt leaned over, snagged a mushroom out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
Zoey nodded but appeared to relax a little. “I took a short leave of absence to come back and help Gran.”
“How long do you plan on staying?” Matt couldn’t explain how, in the space of a few hours, he’d gone from questioning Zoey moving in with Liz to feeling disappointed that it was only temporary.
“I wasn’t sure how long Gran would need me, so I asked for two weeks off. My understudy was thrilled, of course. She complains that she’s never going to be discovered by a Holly-wood talent agent if I refuse to get sick or take a personal day once in a while.”
Matt processed that information as he dumped the flour and yeast into a mixing bowl. Liz had taught him how to make the crust from scratch, and now he’d done it so often he didn’t need to look at a recipe anymore.
“Which play are you doing now?” He sat down across from her at the table, deliberately turning his attention to the task in front of him.
“We’ll be performing a musical called Once Upon a Castle. Kind of a modern Cinderella story,” Zoey explained. “Most of the performances are popular Broadway plays, but sometimes my director will use an original script when we want to put on a show with audience participation.”
“So which part do you play?” Given the fact that Zoey had mentioned an understudy, Matt had a hunch she had a major role.
“Ella Cinders.”
Matt laughed.
“Hey, don’t make fun! The children love it.” Zoey slapped the back of his hand when he reached for a slice of pepper.
The playful, completely unexpected, touch squeezed the air out of Matt’s lungs.
Their eyes met, and Zoey lurched to her feet.
“I’ll be right back,” she muttered. “I better go check on Gran.”
What on earth had she been thinking?
She hadn’t, that was the trouble.
Because if she would have been thinking, Zoey would have remembered that Matt was her grandmother’s neighbor. Her pastor.
She hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of that heart-stopping smile again, let alone to be treated as if she were a person he was genuinely interested in getting to know rather than the town pariah.
Was it possible he hadn’t asked someone about her yet?
If that were the case, Zoey wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was only a matter of time before Matt found out the truth. Maybe she should simply tell him and get it over with…but the thought of seeing the warmth in those hazel eyes glaze over with disapproval caused the knot in her stomach to tighten.
Matt Wilde was a complication Zoey hadn’t expected to find when she’d returned to Mirror Lake. An all too attractive complication.
“Is the pizza done already?” Gran looked up from her knitting as Zoey burst into the parlor.
“Ah, not yet.” She felt the color rise in her cheeks. “I wanted to see if you needed anything.” And she’d needed to escape.
“Not a thing.” Gran looked perfectly content as the bright aquamarine knitting needles clicked together in her lap. “I’m so glad you and Matthew are getting acquainted. With your parents living in Africa and me all alone now, he’s been more like family…” She broke off with a look of dismay. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, sweetheart.”
Zoey forced a smile. “I know you didn’t, Gran.”
Concern cast a shadow over Liz’s face. “I can be so thoughtless at times,” she murmured.
Zoey dropped to her knees by her grandmother’s chair. “You aren’t thoughtless at all. And I’m glad you have good friends who stop by to check on you. Have dinner with you. It must be lonely without Grandpa.”
“It is.” Gran’s eyes misted, as if the grief was still fresh.
As different as night and day, her grandparents had been one of those rare couples whose love had only grown stronger over time. Zoey remembered rolling her eyes when her grandpa would tease her grandmother until she dissolved into giggles like a school girl. The way they would reach for each other’s hands while walking down the street…or at the dinner table in prayer.
“I wish…” Zoey’s voice cracked under the weight of her regrets.
Liz squeezed her hand, as if she understood. “I appreciate your checking on me, but you better help Matt. He tends to make a mess if I’m not there to stop him.”
“I heard that!” A cheerful masculine voice called out.
Zoey winced, wondering what else he’d heard. She had forgotten how thin the walls were between the rooms.
“All right,” she agreed. “But if you need anything, let me know.” Soon.
As soon as Zoey walked into the kitchen, she realized her plan had backfired. Matt had finished his assigned task and, with chef’s knife in hand, was armed and ready to help her.
She slid into the chair across the table from him and held her breath, waiting for him to pick up where the conversation had left off. Instead, Matt continued chopping up peppers. When she didn’t move, he raised an eyebrow.
“Can’t get your knife to work?”
Zoey almost smiled.
“I know they can be kind of tricky.”
Now she did smile.
“I’ll figure it out.” Zoey grabbed another pepper out of the bowl and set to work.
The silence should have been uncomfortable, but Matt seemed perfectly at ease. They worked together in a companionable silence. By the time the pizza was ready, instead of watching the clock tick off the minutes, Zoey couldn’t believe the time had passed so quickly.
The timer went off and Zoey jumped up. “I’ll take it out.”
She opened a drawer next to the oven and found it filled with measuring cups and baking utensils.
“The drawer on the left.”
“Gran was right. You do know your way around the kitchen.” To cover up her mistake—and the guilt that came from knowing how long she’d been away—Zoey tried to inject a teasing note in her voice. And failed miserably.
Matt looked down at her, a frown settling between his brows. Zoey braced herself, waiting for the attack. The “if-you’d-come-around-more-often-you’d-know-where-the-potholders-weretoo” reminder.
“The pizza looks great. I’ll get Liz” was all Matt said.
He left the kitchen and Zoey finished getting the table ready. She put out a bowl of fresh spinach with chopped tomatoes and a gelatin salad, one of several lined up like colorful jewels on the shelf in the refrigerator. Her grandmother’s friends had dropped off enough food to feed a small army.
On impulse, Zoey lit the pillar candle in the center of the table. It cast a warm glow in the room.
“Everything looks lovely.” Gran swept in on Matt’s arm, not looking nearly as tired as she’d claimed to be when she left them alone on kitchen duty.
Zoey’s heart started beating in double-time as a thought suddenly occurred to her.
No, Gran wouldn’t dare…not a woman who believed it was God who brought a couple together, without any help from earthly matchmakers. Or well-meaning grandmothers.
“What would you like to drink, Liz?” Matt pulled a chair away from the table.
“Water, please.”
“I’ll get it.” Zoey was pretty sure she remembered where Gran kept that.
As she opened the refrigerator door and reached for the pitcher, she heard the front door open.
“Hellooo! Is anyone home?”
Matt’s head jerked up. Something in the look that he and her grandmother exchanged sent off warning bells inside of Zoey’s head. She heard a staccato tap tap tapping noise against the hardwood floor. Ten seconds later a woman appeared in the doorway.
Zoey hadn’t recognized the voice but she remembered the face.
Delia Peake.
“Liz, I thought you’d be finished eating supper by now.” Somehow Delia made the statement sound like an accusation. She leaned on her cane, her sharp gaze sweeping over the three place settings grouped around the steaming pizza. “This is certainly a cozy scene. Hello, Pastor Wilde.”
“Mrs. Peake.” Matt rose to his feet with a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
The circles of rouge on Delia’s cheeks deepened in color and expanded. “I brought over the new pattern that Esther picked out for our next knitting project.”
“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, Delia,” Liz protested.
“It was no trouble at all.” Delia might have been speaking to Gran, but she was looking straight at Zoey. As if she couldn’t believe she was really there.
“You remember my granddaughter, Zoey,” Gran said.
“Hello.” The frosty look on Delia’s face said that yes, she remembered her.
“Mrs. Peake.”
They both remembered.
Delia had been opposed to Zoey moving in with her grandparents right from the start, arguing that a teenage granddaughter, and a rebellious one at that, would only turn their lives upside down. It hadn’t helped that all her fears had come to pass, and then some.
She knew that people like Delia Peake would regard her with suspicion. People believed what they wanted to believe. Zoey had discovered that following the accident. It had been easier to lay blame on the Decker’s troubled granddaughter, an “outsider,” rather than on Tyler Curtis, the charming, popular teenage quarterback who’d grown up in Mirror Lake.
Even now, the memory continued to cast a shadow over Zoey’s life. Her physical injuries from the accident had healed within weeks. The bruises on her soul were taking longer.
Zoey had resented Delia’s interference at the time, but now she understood the woman’s concern stemmed from her longstanding friendship with Gran.
It was natural to want to protect the people you cared about.
She knew it wouldn’t be easy seeing her grandmother’s friends again, but facing Delia was even more difficult than Zoey had imagined.
One step forward, right, Lord?
She took a deep breath, set the water pitcher down on the table and summoned a smile. “Would you like to join us for dinner, Mrs. Peake? We have plenty.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Zoey saw that Matt looked as taken aback by the invitation as her grandmother.
“Join you? Well.” Delia leaned on the word. “I’m afraid I can’t. My son will be stopping over tonight to fix a leaky faucet in the bathroom. But…thank you.” She cleared her throat. “And Liz, let me know if you need any help with the new pattern. You should have plenty of time to work on it because Esther is going to postpone our next meeting until you’re feeling better.”
“That’s very sweet, but I don’t expect everyone to tailor their schedule to mine,” Liz said.
“We don’t mind waiting. It wouldn’t be the same without you anyway.” Delia’s expression softened.
“You could meet here.”
Three pairs of eyes turned in her direction.
Oh, no. She’d actually said it out loud.
Nice going, Zoey. So much for your plan to avoid people. But that didn’t mean she wanted Gran to be cut off from her friends and some of the activities she enjoyed.
She could always…hide.
“Here?” A thoughtful look came into her grandmother’s eyes.
“Why not?” Zoey said faintly, although she could come up with a hundred reasons. None of which had come to mind, of course, when she’d made the impulsive suggestion.
“Delia?” Liz’s gaze shifted to her friend.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/kathryn-springer/the-prodigal-comes-home/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Если текст книги отсутствует, перейдите по ссылке
Возможные причины отсутствия книги:
1. Книга снята с продаж по просьбе правообладателя
2. Книга ещё не поступила в продажу и пока недоступна для чтения