Return to Me (5 page)

He shook his head, then shrugged. “I was thinking about your sister.”

“Oh.” Elena placed the folder on the desk and sank onto a nearby chair. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Isn’t it? I could have been more supportive.” Years ago he’d failed his wife in the same way. “I could have sent her off with my blessings instead of trying to force my will on her, instead of acting like I knew best. She wasn’t a child, but I treated her like one. If your mother were still alive
⎯
”

“You called Roxy all the time after she left. You told her you loved her and wanted the best for her. She’s the one who refused to call you back. She’s the one who chose to be vindictive.” Elena

crossed her arms over her chest. “She always was stubborn as a rock.”

The one regard in which Jonathan and his daughters were all the same.
God forgive me.

“I pray she’ll come home soon.” He returned to the execu- tive chair behind his desk and sat down. “That’s always my prayer. Come home, Roxy.”

A few years before, after her phone number had been discon- nected, Jonathan hired an investigator to find Roxy. He was afraid of what the detective might find but more afraid of not know- ing the truth. The report brought some comfort — but also greater worries.

Subject recently moved into a small apartment in a modest neigh-

borhood and is working as a waitress
, the report stated.
She does not appear to be pursuing a music career at this time, having severed her relationship with a talent agent. She frequents clubs several nights a week and is often seen with different men as her escort.

Elena said, “It’s been seven years without a word. She doesn’t want to see us, Dad. You’ve tried your best, but you need to let it go. For your own sake.”

“I can’t, Elena. She’s my daughter. God is a God of miracles. I have to believe He’ll bring your sister home in the fullness of time.”

Please, God. Let that be soon.

=

“We’ll be here a little more than an hour, folks,” the bus driver said as the passengers disembarked in Kansas City, Missouri, just before noon.

Since leaving Nashville thirteen hours before, they’d made seven stops in four states and changed buses once. No wonder it took almost two days to reach Idaho.

After using the restroom, Roxy bought herself a deli sandwich and a Diet Coke at the food service counter inside the terminal, then took a seat near the window to eat her lunch. Welcome rays of sunshine spilled through the glass and onto her lap, warming her chilled bones.

Feminine laughter drew Roxy’s gaze. A young couple— twenty years old, at most — sat across from her, their arms entwined, their faces close together, one of the girl’s legs draped over the boy’s lap. So entranced by each other they were oblivious to the world around them. As the girl caressed the side of the boy’s face, the tiny dia- mond in her wedding ring reflected the sunlight.

Newlyweds. No wonder. They were probably on their honey- moon without two nickels to rub together.

Love. They called it being in love. Roxy almost remembered what that felt like. Almost.

She closed her eyes as a series of men’s faces drifted through her mind. Some young. Some older. Some with money. Some pen- niless. Some she’d known for many months. Some who’d been acquaintances, diversions, passing fancies, one-night stands. They hadn’t loved her. She hadn’t loved them.

No, she had to go back many years to find any relationship that resembled love. She had to go all the way back to . . .

Wyatt
.

He’d loved her once, and she’d loved him. But not enough. They wanted different things. He wanted to study the law and had worked hard to get a scholarship to make that dream come true. She wanted to be a country singing star and had expected it to be handed to her on a silver platter. So while they sometimes talked about the future as if they would always be together, they didn’t use the word
marriage
. At least she never did.

While she waited for her twenty-fifth birthday to arrive — and with it, the inheritance from her grandmother — Roxy thought she could convince Wyatt to move to Nashville with her. After all, he could practice law in Tennessee, including all that boring contract stuff he specialized in.

But then Wyatt blew it. He became a Christian. A bona fide, born-again, baptized-in-water, saved-by-the-blood, Spirit-filled, miracle-loving, Bible-reading Christian. After all that time going to church with the Burke family to please Roxy’s dad, he was sucked in.

Funny — Roxy opened her eyes and stared at the couple across from her — it was after Wyatt confessed his faith in Christ that he proposed marriage. Up until then he’d liked the relationship they had. But after that, he wanted marriage, a home, a family. He wanted to make an honest woman of her.

The newlyweds kissed, slow and languid.

Watching them made Roxy wonder what had happened to Wyatt since she left Boise. No doubt he was married to some nice Christian girl with a pristine past and a boring future, a father of two or three kids and the proud owner of a home in suburbia.

And what would Wyatt think of you today?

She swallowed a lump in her throat and wrapped the remainder of her sandwich in the cellophane it came in, her appetite gone.

=

Wyatt reached for the telephone receiver on the third ring. “Wyatt Baldini.”

“Hey. It’s Lance. Have you got a minute?”

“Sure.” He closed the file folder on his desk. “What’s up?”

“I thought you should hear what happened to one of the young men as a result of your testimony last night.”

“Something good, I hope.”

“What brought him to see me wasn’t pleasant, but good came of it.”

Wyatt twisted his chair toward his office window. “I’m listening.” “The boy is seventeen, almost eighteen, a senior in high school.

He doesn’t go to church anywhere, but a friend convinced him to come to youth group a few months ago, and he’s come pretty regular ever since. Turns out his girlfriend found out she’s pregnant, and he was after her to get an abortion. He’s been trying to get the money together to pay for it.”

“Oh, no.”

“He cut school today to come see me.” Lance chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Cutting school isn’t a good thing. But, Wyatt, he said he wanted to understand what you were talking about last night, about how God could turn his mistakes into something good. The bot- tom line is, he prayed to accept Christ while he was in my office.”

“Praise God.”

“
And
when he left, he said he was going to tell his girlfriend he doesn’t want her to abort the baby. That either they need to get married and raise it or they need to put it up for adoption.”

“Did he ask for advice on which of those options would be best?”

“No, and I didn’t offer any. But I invited him to come back to talk to me when he’s ready.”

“Tough decisions.” It was a miracle Wyatt hadn’t found himself facing the same sort of decisions back when he was this kid’s age.

“Yeah, they sure are. Keep him and his girlfriend in your prayers, will you?”

“You bet.”

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted you to know one way God used your testimony. I’ll see you at the elders meeting.”

“Okay. See you then.” He placed the receiver in its cradle, his thoughts pulled back in time to another phone call.

“Wyatt?”

He could still hear Roxy Burke’s voice, fear-filled and heart- stopping, as clear now as it was over that telephone wire twelve years ago.

“My period’s late. I think I’m pregnant.”

As the old memory replayed in his mind, he remembered the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Roxy pregnant? A baby?
His
baby?

In a flash, he’d seen all of his hard work to go to college and get his law degree and pass the bar disappearing before his eyes. He imagined himself married and working in retail or construction, fighting to keep his head above water, fighting to provide food and home and medical care for wife and child. He saw himself miser- able and bitter. He didn’t want to be married or a dad. Not yet anyway. Oh, he was wild about Roxy. She was sexy, funny, beauti- ful, talented. Maybe he loved her. But married to her? No, he didn’t want to marry her.

As it turned out, Roxy wasn’t pregnant, but the week that fol- lowed her frantic phone call was the worst of Wyatt’s life.

What would’ve happened if she’ d been pregnant?

He stood and stepped to the window, looking down at the midday traffic passing along Idaho Street.

Would they have married or would they have made another, less palatable choice? If they’d married and had a baby, Wyatt would be the father of an eleven-year-old today. But would he still be a lawyer? Would he have made it through college? Would he be a Christian? Would their marriage have lasted?

Questions without answers.

Did Elena know about her sister’s near miss? If so, she hadn’t told him. They talked about many things, but they avoided the topic of his relationship with Roxy. Of course, the memories were always there, in the back of his mind, and he knew Elena remem- bered too.

Whether he wanted her to or not.

E
LENA

December 1981

Elena stopped in the living room doorway and stared at her mom, seated in the rocking chair. The hour was late and the house silent.

Flickering light from the fire made her mom’s curly auburn hair glow like red-hot embers. Elena always wished she had hair like that, but hers was brown, straight, and ordinary. Her little sister was the one who took after their mom. Everybody said so.

Her mom flipped a page of the book she read as it rested on the large swell of her stomach. Then she glanced toward the Christmas tree. That’s when she saw her eldest daughter.

“Elena? What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She padded across the room on bare feet. “Full day, huh? Christmas gifts in the morning, birthday party

in the afternoon.”

Elena sat on the floor and placed her head on her mom’s lap, staring toward the icicle-covered pine tree in the corner of the room.

Her mom rocked the chair forward, then stroked Elena’s hair with the palm of her hand. “Ten years old. I can’t believe it. It seems like yesterday I sat in this same rocking chair, waiting for you to be born. And now here you are, ten years old already. That’s almost a young lady.”

Elena felt something bump the back of her head and straight- ened. “Was that the baby?”

“Uh-huh.” She took one of Elena’s hands and placed it on her abdomen. “Wait a minute.”

Elena felt it again. “Wow. He’s strong.”

“Like you and Roxy when you were babies.” Her mom smiled. “But what makes you so sure it’s a boy? You could get another sister.”

“I’ve got a sister. Why have another Roxy?” She wrinkled her nose. “I want a little brother.”

Her mom chuckled. “Brothers can be pests, you know. Although I’m pretty fond of mine. Your uncles always made me laugh, even when I wanted to knock their blocks off. But you’re lucky.” She brushed stray strands of hair back from Elena’s forehead. “There can be such a special bond between sisters. You can be best friends and do all the girl things together. Something I couldn’t do with my brothers. You’ll know what I mean when you get older.”

“Hey there.” Her dad stepped into the living room. “I thought you’d gone to bed, pumpkin.”

“She couldn’t sleep,” her mom answered for her.

Her dad crossed the room and sat in a nearby chair, then reached out and took hold of her mom’s hand. There was some- thing about the way they looked at each other that made Elena feel happy on the inside. Several of her friends had moms and dads who fought all the time and didn’t live together anymore. But Elena knew that wouldn’t ever happen to her family. She liked knowing it. It was comforting, like when her cat curled up beside her in bed and started to purr.

Her mom looked at her again. “Come on. We’d better get you to bed.” She waited until Elena stood, then rose from the rocker, rolling upward, belly first. She took Elena’s hand, and mother and daughter walked side-by-side out of the room.

Her mom looked down at her. “I’m glad Roxy has a big sister to look after her when I go to the hospital to have the baby.”

“I’ll take good care of her, Mama. You can count on me.”

“I know I can.” Her mom squeezed her shoulder. “I love you so much. You remember that always. Okay?”

“I will.” She let go of her mother’s hand and slipped between the sheets on her bed. “I love you too.” Eyelids growing heavy, she rolled onto her side. “Night, Mama.”

“Sweet dreams, Elena.” Her mom’s lips brushed her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

F ive

The Greyhound made it out of Colorado and across Wyoming. Roxy awakened each time they stopped — Fort Collins, Laramie, Rawlins, Rock Springs, Evanston — and when the bus arrived at the terminal in Salt Lake City after 10:00
A
.
M
., she disembarked, unkempt, travel weary, and hungry.

She washed the sleep from her eyes in the restroom sink. What makeup she applied before leaving Nashville was gone. Her curly hair was a hopeless mess. The only way to tame it was to twist it high and capture it with a large clip.

What I wouldn’t give for a shower.

Another nine hours or so, and she would be in Boise. Should she call her father from here, let him know she was coming?

Her gut twisted at the thought.

No, better wait. Better surprise him. Better show up on his doorstep unannounced. Maybe then he wouldn’t turn her away.

There it was. Her true fear. That he wouldn’t want to see her. That her father, her last port in the storm, would reject her as every- one else had. That he would turn her out once he saw how low she’d sunk. And he
would
see that. He couldn’t help but see. It was written all over her face. He wouldn’t care that she’d failed to make it as a singer in Nashville. It was her lifestyle that would bring his disapproval. One look at her face and he’d know all the reckless, shameful things she’d done.

He’d see all of her sins.