Return to Me (24 page)

Only God. Only God could turn all things to good in her life.

With that realization came another. Even after accepting she wouldn’t be the right wife for a pastor, she’d still toyed with the idea of being with Wyatt again. She’d told herself it was because she might love him and he might love her. But that wasn’t true. Inside, in a deep secret corner of her heart, she believed if she loved a man like Wyatt, then she wouldn’t feel so . . . used. So unworthy. So ashamed.

She wiped at the tears with her fingertips.

It wasn’t just the memories of Wyatt she longed to clean away. She wanted all of it gone. All of
them
gone. The memories of the men who had littered her life and made it shabby.

Only God could do that, and now He was saying He would, if she let Him.

An arm went around her shoulders. She glanced to her right and saw one of the female vocalists seated beside her. Roxy couldn’t remember her name, but that seemed all right for now. She closed her eyes again.

I want to let You take it away, Lord. I want to forget my shame —

“Excuse me, Greg,” a voice called from the back of the sanctuary. “Yes?”

“Sorry for intruding. Is Roxy Burke part of your team? Is she here?”

Roxy straightened and looked behind her. “I’m Roxy.”

“Your dad’s trying to call you. He says it’s urgent and please call him on his cell right away.”

Anxiety tightened her chest as she reached for her mobile phone. Her dad would never interrupt her at church for something minor. “I’m sorry,” she said to the woman beside her before step- ping from the row of chairs and leaving the sanctuary.

In the lobby, she flipped open her phone. The symbol for mes- sages waiting showed in the display. She skipped listening to them, instead tapping the speed-dial button for her dad. Then she waited for him to answer.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Dad. Someone said you’d called.”

“There’s been an accident. Wyatt’s hurt. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

“An accident?”

“I called your sister. She managed to get on a flight to Boise tonight. Meet me at St. Luke’s.”

“Dad, what
⎯
”

“Get there as quick as you can.”

Wyatt in an accident. Elena on her way home. Her dad sound- ing anxious.

God, please . . . be with us!

=

Most of the middle seats in the main cabin were empty on this late- night flight into Boise. Elena was thankful she had an entire row to herself. The last thing she wanted was a chatty seatmate. Alone, she could turn her face toward the window, stare out at the darkness, and try to still her churning thoughts, her careening emotions.

“I don’t know anything other than it was a hiking accident,” her dad said in their final conversation. “Apparently Cody’s barking

drew the attention of a deputy or a ranger, and the officer called for help. The paramedics brought Wyatt in by helicopter. He was unconscious.”

She had a hundred more questions to ask her dad, but the door to the airplane had closed and she was required to turn off her phone. Now all she could do was wait.

Wait and stare out this window and wonder . . .

R
OXY

December 2003

Roxy awakened with the kiss of morning sunlight on her cheek. Less friendly was the hangover that thrummed in her head, remind- ing her of the wild party that took place in her apartment the night before.

She rolled over, turning her back toward the window, and came face-to-face with a man sleeping beside her. Young enough that he was barely a man. Perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two with pale blond whiskers. What was his name? Tom? Tad? Trevor?

She groaned as she rolled the opposite way and stumbled her way to the bathroom. Hands resting on the edge of the counter, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

What happened to my life?

She moistened a washcloth beneath the running tap, squeezed out the excess water, then sank to the floor between toilet and tub, the cool cloth held over her eyes.

Why doesn’t anything good happen to me?

Her bank account was running low, and with no major gigs on the horizon, it was time for her to move from this luxury apartment she’d called home for more than three years. She couldn’t afford to keep paying this kind of rent.

How did I run through all that money so fast?

If Pete Jeffries would get off his duff and get her demo before the right executives, her money woes would change. All she needed was one good opportunity, a chance to be heard by someone impor- tant in the music business. All she needed was a break.

You’ve had breaks and you’ve blown them. Always the diva.

“Shut up.” She pressed the cloth tighter against her eyelids. “Just shut up.”

A longing for home, for her family, welled up inside. She wanted to wish her dad Merry Christmas and tell him she missed him. She wanted to say she was sorry for the way she acted before leaving Boise.

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She had her pride, after all.

The stranger in her bed cleared his throat, the sound sliding under the bathroom door to mock her.

Pride? What pride?

The image of her sister came to mind. Elena
⎯
smart, cool, together.

Pure.

Was there a time when anyone could have called Roxy pure? She supposed, but it was so long ago she couldn’t remember. Her memories were strewn with . . . other things.

But why envy Elena? Her sister never had a boyfriend in high school or college, hardly went on any dates. It was different for Roxy. Wyatt had wanted her.
All
the guys wanted her.

For sex.

Sick to her stomach, she rose to her feet, opened the shower door, and turned on the hot water. As soon as the temperature was bearable, she got in, standing beneath the spray, begging it to wash her clean. Not on the outside. On the inside, where she felt the dirtiest.

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Twenty-Seven

Roxy sat on a chair near Wyatt’s hospital bed. Her father was out- side the room, talking to the doctor, their voices too soft to be understood.

God, please let him be all right. He’s devoted his life to You. Don’t

let him die. Don’t let him be crippled. If anybody deserves to be pun- ished, it’s me. But not Wyatt. Never Wyatt.

A low groan drew her gaze to the patient. His head was ban- daged, and his right arm was in a cast. The doctors were waiting to see if surgery was required on his left leg.

His eyes flickered open, unfocused, fixed on the ceiling, then closed again.

“Wyatt.” She brushed away tears as she leaned forward on the chair. “Wyatt, it’s me. Roxy.”

He opened his eyes again. “Roxy?”

She stood so he could see her without turning his head. “You fell while you were hiking. You’re in the hospital. At St. Luke’s.”

His eyes narrowed, as if what she said didn’t make sense. “Dad’s talking to the doctor. I’ll get them.”

“Wait.” He cleared his throat. “Was Cody with me?” “Yes. He saved your life.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” She stepped away from the bed and hurried to the door, pushing it wide open. “Doctor? He’s awake.”

Dr. Mulvany swept past her, walking to the hospital bed with long strides. Her father entered the room too but stopped inside the doorway, where he took hold of one of her hands.

“Thank God.”

At his fervent whisper, she nodded, her throat tight with emo- tion, too tight to speak. She didn’t know much, medically speaking, but she knew remaining unconscious for a lengthy period could be a bad sign. What if Wyatt had fallen into a coma from which he never awakened?

A shudder passed through her. Life was a fragile thing, not to be taken for granted. It was a wisp, here and then gone.

“Dad, he isn’t going to die, is he?”

“No. He’ll pull through this okay. He’s young and strong.” “What about his leg?”

“The doctor says they won’t know for a while, but they’re thinking a cast may be all he needs.”

Had her dad noticed how many things had gone wrong since her return? Everyone was happy and healthy before she got here. It didn’t make sense, but this felt like her fault. Like so many other things.

=

What about grace?

Stars sprinkled the night sky as the plane approached the Boise airport. Below, the flow of white and red lights helped Elena iden- tify the interstate, traffic steady even this close to midnight.

What about grace?

Barbara’s infernal question wouldn’t leave her alone. Whenever Elena thought of Wyatt, the question was there. Whenever she thought of Roxy, it was there too.

What about grace?

The sound of the landing gear lowering into place pulled her attention from the window. She checked her seatbelt while giving her purse a tiny shove with the toe of her shoe, making certain it was all the way under the seat in front of her. Elbows on the arm-

rests, her hands folded on her stomach, she watched the lights on the ground grow closer and closer. Tires screeched as they touched earth. The plane rocked forward and began to slow.

Back in Boise. Back with Wyatt and Roxy. Back in the midst of her confusion.

What about grace?

=

His injuries and the narcotics the nurses administered for pain had placed Wyatt in an odd state. He felt neither awake nor asleep. The hospital room was bathed in shadows. He heard muffled sounds from the hall and the occasional
ping
for a nurse. Roxy sat in the chair next to his bed, her head leaning to one side as she slept. Exhaustion creased her face.

It took effort, but he managed to slide his arm toward the edge of his mattress where her arm rested. Her eyes flew open at his touch.

“Wyatt?” She leaned forward. “You’re awake again.” “I think so.”

“Do you need anything? Would you like me to call for the nurse?”

He started to shake his head, but pain was his reward. He clamped his eyes closed and clenched his jaw. “No.” It was more grunt that word.

She placed her fingers over his hand, squeezing gently. “You’d better not move.”

“What time is it?” “Almost midnight.”

“Where’s your dad? I thought I heard his voice.”

“That was earlier. He . . . he went to the airport. To get Elena.” He looked at her again. “Elena’s coming?”

“Of course.”

Of course.
She made it sound easy, a foregone conclusion.

“If Elena’s coming, I must be hurt worse than I thought.” He attempted a smile. It didn’t work. He winced instead.

Her hand tightened around his. “You had us scared.” “Sorry.”

“What were you doing in the mountains all by yourself in the middle of the week? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going. No one would have known to look for you.”

His head pounded. Pain pierced his leg. No, his arm. No, every place on his body.

“If it wasn’t for Cody, you might never have been found.” “Sorry.”

He should tell her that he went up to the mountains to think and to pray, to find answers for his future, to hear from God. He should, but the words were caught in the fog in his head. He saw Roxy’s lips move and heard a faint sound that resembled her voice and yet wasn’t. The shadows in the room darkened, grew closer together, squeezing out the light.

And then there was nothing.

=

Roxy held onto Wyatt’s hand for a long while after his eyes drifted closed and he slept again.

It occurred to her, as she sat there, hospital sounds whispering in the background, that she felt an absence of dread, an absence of guilt, an absence of fear. In their place was peace, a calm deep in her spirit.

“You will forget the shame of your youth . . .”

She looked at Wyatt
⎯
bandaged, battered, bruised
⎯
and knew once and for all that she felt no desire to return to what they once

had. Nor did she want to discover something new because of their shared pasts. He was a different man. She was a different woman. The Lord had changed them both.

They’d been two mixed-up kids, grabbing at life, confusing sex with love, wanting everything the world had to offer, seeking success and happiness in all the wrong places, with all the wrong people.

And then God met them. Wyatt years ago. Roxy weeks ago.

I once was lost, but now I’m found.

All the dark and ugly memories wouldn’t disappear in this one night, all the shame wouldn’t go away in a twinkle. She would have to trust Christ to walk her through the healing. She understood that without being told. But tonight, in this moment, God had removed her shame. God had given her a clean slate with the man who would be, if her prayers were answered, her brother-in-law.

She began to hum. First to herself, then to the Lord. A giving back of the gift He’d given her, a silent dedication of her life, her talent, her love.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like

me . . .”

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Twenty-Eight

Elena asked to be dropped off at the hospital entrance before her father went to park the car in the lot. Inside the main lobby, the gift shop and coffee bar were locked up tight. Too few customers after midnight, she supposed. Too bad. She could have used a chai tea. Something to soothe her rattled nerves and the anxiety that gnawed at her insides.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the elevator and fol- lowed the signs. Repeating aloud the room number helped shut out the fearful questions that repeated in her head.

Would he be all right? Would he be glad to see her? Could he forgive her?

When she reached the room, she paused in the hushed cor- ridor.
God, help me.

As she pushed open the door, she heard the soft sound of Roxy’s voice, singing.

“When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun . . .”

Wyatt appeared to be asleep, the top of his bed raised, his head turned on the pillow, facing Roxy. Something about his expres- sion, even in repose, told Elena that her sister’s singing brought him comfort.

It was so unfair! Elena loved him so much, and yet she couldn’t give him what Roxy could. She wanted to, with everything in her, but wanting wasn’t enough.