Return to Me (17 page)

“So I see.” Elena went to the refrigerator and took out a Sprite, popping the tab as she turned. “Is Dad around? I need to talk to him, and I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

“He’s napping in front of the TV.”

“I should have called before coming over.”

“He ought to wake up soon.” Roxy motioned to another chair at the table, inviting Elena to be seated. “Where were you and Wyatt this morning? We missed seeing you at church.”

She didn’t move toward the chair. “We went to early service.” The change was her idea. She told Wyatt it was so she could garden and work on wedding plans this afternoon, but the truth was, she didn’t want to sit with Roxy. Or more precisely, she didn’t

want Wyatt to sit with Roxy.

She sipped the cold soda, wishing she could quench the fear in her heart. Wishing she didn’t remember that her fiancé once loved Roxy and wanted to marry her. Wishing her sister weren’t so beautiful.

Roxy touched the open pages of her Bible. “While you wait for Dad, maybe you could help me understand some stuff I don’t quite get.”

Countless times in the past, Elena had tried to share biblical truths with her sister. Roxy rebuffed her at every turn. Now she expected Elena to drop everything and help her? No surprise there. Roxy was always self-centered.

What was worse, what
did
surprise her, was that her father and

Wyatt both wanted Elena to disciple Roxy, to be her mentor in the faith. They wanted her to pretend her sister hadn’t lived like the devil for years when everyone knew she had. It didn’t take a genius to know what Roxy had done in Nashville. Elena could just imag-

ine the drinking, the men . . . Roxy never did anything halfway, and she certainly wouldn’t have bypassed any sinful behavior while on her own. For that matter, Roxy participated in sinful behavior long before leaving Boise. Yet here she sat in her father’s kitchen, all pious, with her Bible open before her, as if there were no conse- quences to be faced.

Elena wanted to grind her teeth.

Roxy lowered her gaze. “Can you forgive me?” “For what?”

“For being a lousy sister. For the ugly things I said to you before I left Boise. For never calling or writing while I was in Nashville. For whatever I did to make you so angry at me.”

Elena set the can of Sprite on the counter before walking to the glass door that led onto the deck. She stared outside, her back to her sister. “I’m not angry at you.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t take it back.

“Are you sure?” “I’m sure.”

“Then what’s wrong? Why this continued distance between us?” “You were gone a long time. People change. Circumstances change. It can’t be like it used to be. Not right away.” At least there was some truth in what she said. “We need time to get to know

each other again.”

Roxy sighed. “Time is something I’ve got plenty of.”

Of course you do. You’re living with Dad. Even your job is a hand- out. You didn’t have to work for it. You think coming to Christ will make life a cakewalk and that everything will be rosy from here on out because everything comes easy to you.

“I love you, Elena.”

She glanced over her shoulder and forced herself to speak the expected words. “I love you too, Roxy.” If she did nothing else, at

least she could make her sister see there were prices to be paid. She turned around. “I’ll help you understand your Bible, if you want me to.”

Roxy’s smile brightened. “I want you to. More than you know.” “Okay.” She moved to the table and sat down. “Where do you

want to start?”

“I’m not sure. There’s so much to learn. My heart is so full. It’s like I want to burst into song, for the pure joy of it.” She closed her eyes, adding, “It would be good to sing for joy.”

“Be careful.” Elena shook her head. “Remember, it was your desire to be a famous singer that drew you into a life of sin. Music, singing, could be an area of temptation for you, the way the devil entices you into wrong choices. I’m not saying you can’t sing in private or while we’re in church, but you don’t want to perform. Not anytime soon.”

Roxy opened her eyes, her smile fading. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She glanced toward the telephone. “My former agent called awhile ago. He said he would represent me if I ever went back to Nashville.”

Elena drew her sister’s Bible to her, then flipped through the pages to the book of James. “Here.” She pointed. “It says, ‘Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.’ It’s you who must resist, Roxy, and the best way to resist is to avoid situations where you’ll be tempted. Singing publicly could be your downfall.”

It was all true, what Elena said. A Christian must beware of temptation. Each person’s weakness was different, and the devil knew where to tempt.

So why, she wondered, did she have a sick feeling in her chest?

Why did she feel as if she’d just said something wrong . . . ?

No, more than that.

Why did she feel as though she’d just told a lie?

E
LENA

June 1996

Paper lanterns — strung between tree limbs, lamp posts, and rooftop — cast soft light over the large backyard of the bride’s par- ents’ home. A five-piece band played something slow and romantic while wedding guests danced on the tennis court.

Clothed in bridesmaid’s gowns of mint green satin, Elena and Roxy stood near the white gazebo, where their friend’s wedding ceremony had taken place two hours earlier.

“My feet are killing me.” Roxy took another sip of champagne from the plastic flute in her hand.

Elena glanced down to see her sister’s bare toes peeking from beneath the hem of her gown. Hot-pink polish decorated her toenails.

“I’m not dancing again. The next guy who asks, Elena,
you

dance with him. I’m tired.”

The words stung, even if Roxy didn’t mean them to. The single men at Cindy’s wedding had buzzed around her sister like bees around roses. Elena might as well not be there for all they noticed her. Roxy had passed from one dance partner to the next, song after song after song. Elena had danced twice, and one of her partners was eighty if he was a day.

“Roxy!” Cindy hurried toward them in a swirl of white satin and lace. “Come sing something.”

“I doubt that band knows any country tunes.” “Are you kidding? They can play anything.”

Roxy glanced toward Elena, her eyes sparkling. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to perform one song.” She handed the now-empty flute to Elena. “Be back in a while.” She hurried off with the bride.

Elena watched as her sister conferred with the members of the band. After a few moments, Roxy stepped to the microphone, smil- ing at the guests spread over the tennis court, patio, and lawn, looking at them as if they’d come to see her perform rather than to attend a wedding.

Elena’s lips thinned. How was it that Roxy looked beautiful even when wearing an abominable satin dress with puffy sleeves and a fat bow? Where did she get that charisma, that stage presence?

The keyboardist played the beginning notes, the drummer joining him after a few beats. Roxy’s smile faded. She closed her eyes as she held onto the microphone with both hands and sang the opening words of an old Crystal Gayle song.

Dancers held their partners closer. Heads turned. Talking ceased.

“Don’t it make my brown eyes blue . . .” Maybe they
had
come to see Roxy perform.

Whatever the case, one thing was painfully clear: no one cared if Elena was there or not.

N ineteen

Arriving home from work on Monday, Wyatt tossed the mail onto the kitchen counter, then walked to the bedroom to change from his business suit.

Now
that
was something he wouldn’t miss about practicing

law. Once he was a pastor, he wouldn’t need to wear suits during the week, except for the occasional wedding or funeral. At least not if he pastored a more casual, come-as-you-are church like Believers Hillside.

He really was blessed. From the beginning of his Christian experience, he’d been part of a fellowship that discipled new believ- ers, a church where the leadership lived as examples and taught sound biblical doctrine. For members of Believers Hillside, the ninety minutes spent in church on Sunday mornings was the kick- off of a week focused on the Lord.

That was the kind of church he wanted to lead one day. Whether big or small, he wanted to shepherd a flock that was pas- sionate for God. He wanted to see them going out to their neigh- bors, feeding the poor, tending the sick, thinking of others before they thought of themselves. He wanted to see them living authentic Christian lives. He hoped his own life modeled such authenticity to others.

Clad in Levi’s and T-shirt, Wyatt returned to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took a bottled water from the door. He unscrewed the cap and tossed it onto the counter before tipping back his head and taking several large gulps.

“But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.”

As he set the water bottle on the counter, he pondered that verse. He understood it on one level. Once a man had Jesus in his life, his spiritual needs were satisfied. He had salvation and was indwelt by the Holy Spirit. That was true of Wyatt. And yet he wasn’t satisfied. He did thirst. He thirsted for more and more and more of Jesus. He wanted everything the Lord had for him. Was that greed or a healthy, reverent desire for God?

I want to know You more.

He reached for the mail and shuffled through the envelopes.

Junk. Bill. Junk. Junk. Bill.

His heart did a hard
ka-thunk
in his chest as he looked at the return address of the envelope in his hand. New Covenant Bible Institute. His first choice. He turned the envelope over and slid his index finger under the flap.

Dear Mr. Baldini . . .

. . . accepted . . .

He held his breath and read it again.

. . .
accepted . . .

Until that moment, he hadn’t realized he was afraid he wouldn’t get in. But he’d been accepted by New Covenant! A few months from now he would be back in school, training for a new profes- sion, for God’s calling on his heart.

“Thank You, Lord.”

Wyatt reached for the telephone. Elena should hear the news. He punched her number and waited. After five rings, he got the answering machine. He left a message for her to call him right away. Next, he dialed her mobile phone. She didn’t answer it either, so he left another message. Finally he tried the office in case she was working late, but that proved fruitless as well. No answer.

Where
was
she? He had great news to share, and the woman he

loved wasn’t to be found.

=

Roxy stood in the corner of the oversized dressing room, staring at her sister’s reflection in the mirror. The Alexandria satin wedding gown with its beaded bodice and the ruched cummerbund at the dropped waist was perfect for Elena’s hourglass figure.

Roxy hadn’t said a word about the previous three gowns Elena tried on. She didn’t feel free to speak. It was their dad who sug- gested she join Elena on this shopping expedition, and while her sister agreed, Roxy sensed her reluctance. She couldn’t say why. Whatever the reason, she thought it wise to keep her thoughts about the wedding gowns to herself.

Until now.

“Elena, that’s it. That’s the one.”

Her sister glanced over her shoulder. “It is a lovely gown, isn’t it?” “It’s more than lovely. It’s stunning.
You’re
stunning.”

Elena looked at her reflection.

Will Wyatt think so?
That was the question Roxy saw in her sister’s eyes.

Roxy imagined Wyatt’s handsome face as he watched his bride approach, walking toward him along a rose-petal-strewn aisle, and she couldn’t help wondering . . .

Would Wyatt think Elena beautiful in that gown? Did Roxy wish he
wouldn’t
?

That was ridiculous. Why would she wish such a horrible thing?

Maybe because you wish you were the one wearing the dress, stand-

ing there and staring at your reflection?

Absurd! How could she even think such a thing? She was a Christian now. Her thoughts were supposed to be pure. Wyatt loved Elena. He was going to marry her. Roxy had no right to feel anything toward him other than the love of a sister-in-law.

Do I feel more than that?

No. Of course not. She didn’t. She couldn’t.

But what if I do?

Her heart started to race; her head spun.

“Elena, I’m going to look for a veil to go with the dress. I’ll be right back.” She slipped through the dressing room curtain and out of her sister’s sight. Pressing a hand to her chest, she hurried toward the display of bridal veils on the opposite side of the shop.

Memories of Wyatt flashed in her mind. Him watching her as she sang. Dancing with her, swaying to the music, holding her close against him. Wyatt kissing her, his mouth warm. Wyatt whispering how much he loved her, asking her to marry him. Wyatt as he —

Stop! This is crazy.
She pressed her hands over her ears, as if that

would silence the memories.
God, please stop these thoughts.

She’d loved Wyatt once, but she loved her singing more. She wanted fame instead of marriage. With reckless disregard for herself and others, she destroyed her hopes of a singing career. And pos- sibly of marriage too. What Christian man would want a woman as soiled as she? Elena had the right to wear white at her wedding. If the day ever came for Roxy to marry, she wouldn’t have that right. She gave it away, along with pieces of herself.

Heat burned her cheeks as she remembered them, the men she’d known, including Wyatt. Especially Wyatt.

Oh, God, stop the memories. Banish them from me. Please, I beg

You. Because if You don’t . . . Lord, I’m afraid of what I’ ll do.

=

For the first time in her life, Elena felt . . . beautiful. She drew a shuddery breath as she stared at her reflection, marveling at the bride who looked back at her.

“It’s more than lovely. It’s stunning.
You’re
stunning.”