The Prodigal Comes Home (12 page)

Matt didn’t take offense at the flip response. He picked up the broom and met her gaze. The warmth in his eyes took her breath away.

“So are friends.”

“A
ren’t you hungry?” Zoey couldn’t help but notice that Liz was separating her half of the chicken pot pie she’d made for lunch into neat little sections instead of eating it.

Liz looked up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“You don’t seem to be very hungry.”

The tip of Gran’s butter knife nudged a wayward carrot around the plate. “I suppose my appetite isn’t back to what it used to be.”

Gran’s appetite had been fine—until today.

Zoey bit her lip, wondering if disappointment was responsible for the faraway look in her grandmother’s eyes.

The doctor’s appointment hadn’t gone as well as they had hoped. Dr. Parish had frowned his way through the checkup and then suggested that Liz wait another month to resume her normal activities.

It was something neither one of them had been prepared to hear.

Gran assumed her recovery time would be hastened by prayer along with a hearty dose of sheer will.

And Zoey had planned on leaving.

As much as she wanted to stay with Gran, Zoey wasn’t sure how much longer she could remain in Mirror Lake. Not after realizing that Matthew Wilde posed a significant risk to her peace of mind.

And her heart.

Matt hadn’t stopped over that morning before leaving for work, but a bouquet of sunny yellow daffodils graced the kitchen table when they returned from the clinic. The color alone should have lifted a person’s spirits, but Liz had barely acknowledged them.

That worried Zoey, too. Liz was one of the most optimistic, faith-filled people she knew. It was obvious that something else was troubling her grandmother. Something more than being told to curtail her activities a few more weeks.

“Dr. Parish promised that the more you rest, the better you’ll feel and the faster you’ll recover.” Zoey pushed her chair back and began to clear the lunch dishes from the table.

“Resting.” Gran shook her head. “It seems like I’ve been doing plenty of that lately.”

Zoey put her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You are. But you can’t rush things.”

“Knock knock.” Matt appeared in the doorway and Zoey’s heart jumped up and down like a pogo stick in response. “Am I interrupting?”

“Of course not, Matthew.” Liz mustered the first real smile Zoey had seen on her face that day. “We were just finishing lunch. Are you hungry?”

“I had breakfast at the cafe this morning. That means I won’t need to eat again until June.” Matt bent down and his arms enveloped Liz in a brief hug. “So, how did your doctor’s appointment go this morning?”

She didn’t answer.

Matt glanced up at Zoey, who responded with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

His smile faded a little. “What did he say?”

“Dr. Parish is being overly cautious,” Liz muttered.

“Define ‘overly cautious.’”

“I can’t resume my normal activities for a few more weeks.”

“Four,” Zoey said under her breath.

Matt flipped a chair away from the table and straddled it.

“You can trust Dr. Parish, Liz. If he tells you to take it easy, he has a good reason.”

Liz’s eyebrows dove together over the bridge of her nose.

“I know, but it feels like someone tied my hands behind my back.”

“That’s why you have Zoey.” Matt said the words matter-of-factly, as if she were the solution to a problem.

Or an answer to prayer.

He’d said the same thing last night. And Zoey had cradled the thought in her heart, almost afraid to believe it was true.

“And I don’t know what I would have done without her,” Liz agreed. “But I can’t ask her to put her life on hold for me. She’s Cinderella.”

“Ella Cinders.”

She and Matt said it at the exact same time.

Zoey stared at him in amazement, as if she hadn’t expected him to remember a tiny, seemingly insignificant detail she had shared with him the day they met.

Matt couldn’t exactly confess that he remembered everything about her. Not without sending her running for cover.

“Well, whatever her name is, Zoey is the leading lady,” Liz maintained stoutly. “They need her.”

Matt wanted to argue that Liz did, too.

What he needed was time.

Time to discover if the spark that flared between him and Zoey every time they were together was the result of simple attraction or the beginning of something more.

If that wasn’t proof of the change in his heart, Matt didn’t know what was.

Matt wasn’t proud of his past behavior. In college, his fraternity brothers had jokingly flipped his name around. Wilde Matt. Living for the moment had become his personal MO. When he wanted something, he had gone after it.

Like Kristen.

Matt thought he’d struck gold when he found a girl who viewed relationships the same way he did.

The memory still pressed against his conscience like an ache from an old injury. Over the past few years, Matt had started to think their final confrontation had cauterized his heart, sealing the wound from further damage but rendering it numb in the process.

It had also driven Matt to his knees. He’d hated the person he had become. When he finally got up again, his whole perspective had changed. So had he. A year later, certain of the path he knew God wanted him to take, Matt had applied to seminary. After he was accepted, he focused on his studies with the same passion and determination he had once devoted to having a good time.

Unless a person counted a few casual conversations over coffee, he hadn’t dated since seminary. Hadn’t met a woman who occupied his thoughts during the day and made him think about tomorrow.

Until now.

“Dr. Parish said that last night’s episode was my body reminding me to slow down,” Liz went on. “Besides that, it’s only a few weeks—” Matt thought for sure he heard Zoey say “a month” under her breath again. “—I have food in the freezer and a nosy neighbor to keep an eye on me.”

Liz wasn’t fooling him. It sounded as if she were trying to convince herself more than them.

“Gran.” Zoey sighed, a mixture of tenderness and exasperation that told Matt she saw right through the elderly woman’s valiant smile. “I’ve already decided that I’m going to call Scott this afternoon and see if we can work something out. I’ve worked for three years without a vacation. He owes me.”

He couldn’t have heard her right.

Matt stared at her until a blush stole across her cheeks and reminded Matt that he was staring.

Liz looked more disturbed by the news than relieved. “Look at all the trouble I’m causing. Zoey has to ask for more time off. And what about the Easter cantata? The last time I talked to Diana, she hinted that she won’t take it on. I’ve been praying about this for days and I’m trying to be patient, but we’re running out of time. The whole community looks forward to it. I don’t want to cancel it this year.”

“Maybe we won’t have to.” Matt knew he would get into big trouble for this, but how could he ignore the fact that an answer to Liz’s prayers—and his own—might very well be standing beside him?

The older woman’s expression changed from worried to hopeful. “Do you have someone in mind?”

His gaze slid to Zoey. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then the curtain of cherry-cola curls swung back and forth, as if she already knew what Matt was going to say.

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

Understanding dawned in Liz’s eyes. She sat up straighter in the chair. “But Zoey, you play the piano. And you know how to arrange music.”

“And she sings,” Matt added, deflecting Zoey’s scowl with a wide smile. “I have another idea, too.” In for a penny, in for a pound, as his mother used to say.

“What is it?” Liz looked delighted, even though she hadn’t heard it yet.

Zoey looked as if could cheerfully strangle him.

“We could involve the teenagers this year.”

Liz clapped her hands together. “Matthew, that’s a wonderful idea. When did you come up with it?”

“Last night.” After he’d heard Zoey play and watched the way she had drawn the kids in. Got them excited about worship.

“I’ll be Zoey’s consultant,” Liz said without hesitation. “From my chair, of course. Following Dr. Parish’s orders to the letter.”

The orders she hadn’t wanted to follow until now.

Matt hoped that Zoey noticed how quickly Liz’s mood had bounced back. He’d planned to talk to Zoey first about directing the cantata, but Liz’s obvious discouragement over Dr. Parish’s orders had forced his hand.

“That’s a great idea.”

Matt slanted another look at Zoey. The expression on her face said she didn’t agree.

“What. Were. You. Thinking?”

Zoey waited until she was alone with Matt to speak her mind.

And it hadn’t been easy. Not with him looking as smug as the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary.

“I’m thinking the Easter cantata will go on as scheduled,” he said easily. “And that Liz will have something to keep her mind off another month of limited activity.”

“I can’t do it.” Zoey wasn’t a pacer by nature, but she took a restless lap around the sofa.

“But you said yourself that your boss might agree to extend your vacation if you explained the situation.”

Was that the only glitch Matt saw in his plan? That she might be denied a few extra weeks off?

“It’s not only that.” Zoey wrapped her arms around her middle and looked away.

“Liz agreed it’s a good idea,” Matt said softly. “And it will give her something to do. Something to look forward to.”

Zoey resisted the urge to stamp her foot. She knew it would be childish but Matt wasn’t playing fair.

“But Gran…” Zoey stopped. How could she explain that her grandmother seemed to possess an endless capacity to love? And forgive?

Zoey hadn’t missed the disbelieving looks on the faces of the people in Matt’s congregation the day before. The uncomfortable silence that had swept through the sanctuary when people recognized her.

Zoey had sat there, raw and exposed, under the pressing weight of their stares. Swept back in time to a place she hadn’t ever wanted to go back to again. Matt had apologized for putting her on the spot. Now he was asking her to willingly walk up to the front of the church and put herself on display?

On Easter Sunday?

And not only in front of the people who regularly attended Church of the Pines, but the entire community.

“I’m not a member of your church. Don’t I have to pass some kind of test? Write an essay about how I came to know the Lord?”

Matt’s smile did nothing to calm her fears. “You’ll be working with Liz and under my direct supervision.”

Direct supervision.

Was knowing that their paths would cross on a more frequent basis supposed to make her feel better?

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“There’s a first time for everything. And you are running out of excuses.”

Zoey had one more.

Her past.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words that would extinguish the grateful hope she’d seen in her grandmother’s eyes.

Matt had backed her into a corner.

“I have no doubt that you can do it, Zoey.”

Well, she did. And more than one.

“Why? Because I’m the daughter of a preacher? Because I know how to play the piano, so I’m expected to jump in and save the day?”

Matt’s expression clouded, as if the thought never occurred to him. “No, because I heard you sing last night and I was…blessed. God gave you a gift. All I’m asking is that you consider sharing it.”

A gift.

Zoey stared at him as those two simple words pierced her to the core. Accompanied by a reminder of something she’d been praying about the past few months.

Although she volunteered with the youth group, she hadn’t joined the worship team at the church she attended. As much as she loved music, Zoey was still plagued by old criticisms and doubt. She was afraid to put herself out there again. Afraid that her gift would be rejected. The way she had been rejected.

“You’re a different person than you used to be, Zoey,” her friend, Melissa, had told her. “You have a new song. Don’t be afraid to sing it.”

But she was. So she’d been asking God to help her overcome that particular fear.

She’d just never imagined that Mirror Lake would be the place He would answer it.

“Okay.” Zoey’s voice didn’t sound quite like her own. “I’ll do it.”

Matt stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she’d agreed.

Neither could she.

“Thank you.”

If Matt had said anything else, Zoey might have changed her mind. He must have been afraid of that possibility, too, because he gave George’s ears an affectionate ruffle and put his coat on.

He paused when he reached the door. “Zoey?”

Now what?

Zoey reluctantly met his gaze.

“As far as a test goes, there isn’t one,” he said. “And you don’t have to worry about writing an essay about how you came to faith either.” Amusement lit up the flecks of gold in Matt’s eyes. “You told me that last night.”

The door closed behind him and Zoey deflated into the nearest chair.

Last night?

She hadn’t told him anything.

All she’d done was sing “Amazing Grace.”

T
he center aisle of the church divided the choir members from the teenagers like a corridor through the Red Sea. Most of the kids sprawled on the floor around the piano had “grown up” in the church, but given the wary looks shooting back and forth between the two groups, one would think they had never laid eyes on each other before.

Zoey didn’t know if she should be relieved or disgruntled that Matt wasn’t among them.

She clamped down on a ragged breath, sent up a prayer for strength and tacked a smile on her face.

“Hello, everyone.”

All eyes turned in her direction and a few half-hearted greetings stirred the air in both camps. Liz had said there were twelve people in the choir. A quick count told Zoey only half were in attendance tonight. The teenagers numbered eight.

Okay, Lord. Here we go.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Zoey Decker.” She stumbled forward, feeling like a puppet that was missing some strings. The binder began a slow descent through her moist palms.

Zoey hadn’t had a case of stage fright like this since her first audition. And she wasn’t even on stage.

“I’m sure Pastor Wilde has already told you that my grandmother, Liz Decker, isn’t able to direct the Easter cantata this year due to some health issues. He asked me to fill in for her.”

Silence.

Zoey found that slightly more encouraging than a mass stampede toward the door.

She licked her dry lips. “Let’s take a few minutes to pray. That’s the best way to start.” Before bowing her head, Zoey saw a few of the teenage boys glance at the door.

It was possible she could lose one or two while her eyes were closed!

“Lord God, thank You for bringing us together tonight. This isn’t about us—it’s about You. We want to remember Your resurrection and celebrate the new life You gave each one of us.” Zoey felt the prayer unfurl inside her, loosening the knot of anxiety and allowing peace to flood in and take its place.

An expectant hush followed her quiet amen.

“Liz explained the way the cantata has been done in the past, but—” That was as far as she got.

“Then she must have told you that Delia always starts with ‘The Old Rugged Cross,’” Trudy Kimball interrupted.

A groan erupted from the teenage side.

Reminding Zoey there shouldn’t
be
sides. “Everyone, please, take a seat for a few minutes. Get comfortable.”

Just as she suspected they would, the choir filed obediently over to the front pew. The teenagers flopped down on the carpeted stairs.

Zoey’s gaze swept over the group. Their expressions revealed everything from hopeful anticipation to outright skepticism. “The cantata doesn’t have to look exactly the way it did last year,” she said carefully. “We can change things if we want to. I’m open to new ideas and suggestions.”

“Change things?” Delia’s nose lifted as if she’d caught a whiff of something sour in the air.

“That’s right.” Zoey had spent a lot of time in prayer about the cantata and the message she hoped they could share. “You all know that a cantata is a collection of readings and songs, but it is even more than that. We can use the music to lead the people through the Easter story, to encourage them to think about the sacrifice Jesus made for us on the cross, not simply provide something to hum along with.”

Several people looked confused, but Zoey saw other heads nod in agreement.

“I’ll take down everyone’s names and find out who prefers to sing and who would like to play an instrument.” In the interest of keeping the peace—or rather, keeping it
peaceful
—Zoey decided to start with the teenagers. Some she recognized as members of the youth group, but there were a few new faces, too.

“Brandon White.” A lanky teenage boy spoke up first. “Bass guitar.”

A snort of laughter, quickly suppressed, followed the announcement.

Zoey, who had been thinking more along the lines of instruments that included trumpets and violins, gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “We’ll see what we can do.”

It took some time to catalog the names and preferences of the teenagers. The boys collapsed against each other like dominoes if someone cracked a joke, and the girls used any disruption, no matter how short, to surreptitiously text on their cell phones.

Zoey felt as if she were trying to corral a litter of eight-week-old puppies. Finally, she turned her attention to the older members of the newly formed choir. Pen poised, she started with Trudy Kimball.

“I play the flute.”

“That was in high school,” Delia grumbled.

The woman deflated like a punctured balloon, leaving Zoey to repair the damage. “I’m so glad to hear that, Trudy. I was hoping to find someone who played the flute.”

“You won’t think so when you hear her play it,” Delia muttered. Her pink cane, which seemed to have its own identity but not necessarily its own opinion, hit the floor in agreement.

Zoey took down the rest of the names, jotted a few notes and took a deep breath, knowing that mixing up the two groups was going to be the challenging part.

She looked at Zach Davis, the easygoing high school junior who’d stunned her with his smooth-as-maple-syrup baritone on Sunday evening. Certain that his freckled face and engaging grin would win converts, she motioned him to sit with the choir. He bounded over to the front pew without hesitation and landed between Delia and Trudy.

Zoey slid onto the piano bench and ruffled through the sheet music her grandmother had given her from last year’s cantata. “Since a lot of you are new, I’ll give you a chance to choose your music and work on it at home before our next practice. We can go through a few of the traditional songs tonight, though.”

“I’ll start.” Delia rose from the pew like a tiny, white-crested wave and made her way over to the piano. “Who is going to accompany me?”

“I will.” Zoey almost smiled at Delia’s look of surprise as she turned to “The Old Rugged Cross” and began to play softly.

As Delia began to sing, a dark-haired girl named Morgan unexpectedly joined in with the praise chorus Zoey had taught them.

To her credit, the older woman didn’t miss a beat. And she didn’t seem to mind that her solo was hijacked and turned into a duet. When they finished, the last note of the piano was followed by a burst of spontaneous, enthusiastic applause.

Morgan, who’d been lost in the song, came to and blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” It was exactly the way Zoey had envisioned the cantata. Fresh. Inspiring. “We want the music to stir peoples’ hearts and remind them what God did for us. The cross bridged the gap—it changed everything. Understanding and accepting how much He loves us changes us, too. Sometimes it doesn’t happen all at once, I know that from experience.” Zoey paused and saw several of the choir members glance at each other. “But He is faithful on the journey.”

“Amen!” Trudy Kimball murmured.

Zoey smiled and turned to Delia. “Mrs. Peake, how do you feel about sharing your solo with Morgan?”

“I’d be delighted.”

Delia’s cane struck the floor in agreement. Only Delia wasn’t the one holding it this time. She’d leaned it against the pew right before she’d started singing. Tim Davis was the one who’d picked it up.

Zoey thought she heard an audible gulp from one of the kids sitting on the floor beside the piano.

Tim returned the cane with a sheepish smile. And a charming but mischievous bow. Delia opened her mouth, but Zoey jumped in before she could speak.

“Okay, I think that’s enough tonight. Start practicing at home and we’ll meet here again tomorrow night at seven o’clock.”

The boys practically somersaulted across the room on their way to the door, while the girls drifted along behind them at a slower pace.

Zoey began to collect her things, a dozen ideas already beginning to percolate. She would ask Kate to find out if the teenagers who weren’t involved in the cantata would be interested in painting a special backdrop for the front of the church…

“Ahem.”

Zoey pasted a smile on her face before she turned around. At least Delia had waited until the room cleared before she confronted her. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Peake?”

“What you said this evening about God’s love changing people…”

Oh, no. Was Delia going to call her a hypocrite? Take Zoey to task for having the audacity to allude to the changes that God had made in her own life?

“I’m glad He is patient with us through the journey, too.”

Zoey’s breath lodged in her throat.

“You probably noticed some of the choir members were missing tonight,” Delia continued.

“Yes,” Zoey managed to say.

“They’ll be here tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it. Good night, Miss Decker.”

It was all Zoey could do to remain upright. “Good night, Mrs. Peake.”

Delia was marching toward the door. Just before she reached it, she paused long enough to toss her cane into the air like a baton. As it came back down, Delia caught it, gave it an impressive twirl and tucked it neatly under her arm. Then, she glanced over her shoulder and gave Zoey what could only be described as a mischievous wink.

Matt leaned back in his chair and watched another vehicle pull out of the church parking lot. The only one left was a rusty purple Jeep.

All week long, the choir had been meeting to practice for the cantata.

He glanced at his watch.

Was it a good sign or a bad one that the practices Zoey scheduled seemed to be stretching further into the evenings?

Maybe he should ask.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway launched Matt to his feet. Zoey had a smile on her face and a spring in her step when he poked his head out of the office.

“Hi.”

Zoey stumbled, then righted herself. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“The mentoring team met tonight, and I stayed a little longer to work on my sermon.” Matt motioned her into his office. “I thought maybe you’d planned an all-night campout instead of a practice.”

Zoey sighed. “We have a lot of work to do, and Easter isn’t that far away.”

“How did it go?”

A smile flickered in those pearl-gray eyes. “We had a few wrinkles to iron out.”

“Can you fill me in on the way home?”

Zoey hugged the binder against her chest. “Sure.”

“Great.” Matt released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Do you mind driving? I left my truck at home.”

On purpose, but Zoey didn’t need to know that.

They had been careful around each other the past few days. He had met Zoey coming and going from practices and they saw each other when he stopped by Liz’s house to say hello, but Matt couldn’t scale the invisible wall between them.

There were times he and Zoey shared a smile. Laughed together. Comfortable moments that Matt wanted to linger over. But at some point, she would catch herself and pull away. Almost as if she were obeying an inner warning to keep her guard up.

Matt didn’t understand why.

As if to prove his point, Zoey took a hesitant step into his office and stopped.

“I’ve got to grab a few books from my library—otherwise known as the storage closet.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder.

The phone on his desk rang as he searched the titles. “Can you get that, Zoey?”

It rang again…

“Church of the Pines,” he heard Zoey say. A pause. “Hello? This is Zoey Decker…yes, he’s right here.”

Zoey held out the phone when he emerged from the closet. “It’s for you.”

“Hello?” Matt frowned at the silence on the other end.

“We must have gotten cut off. Did they leave a name?”

“No.” Zoey looked worried as he hung up the phone.

“If it was important, they’ll call back,” he assured her. “And most of the congregation knows my cell phone number if there’s an emergency. Ready?”

She glanced at the phone one more time and nodded.

Matt held the front door for her. A light, freezing drizzle had started to fall over the past few hours and Zoey bent her head against the sting of the wind. “I thought it was spring.”

“This is spring in northern Wisconsin.” Matt took hold of her arm as they sprinted toward the Jeep. He opened the driver’s side door before making his way around to the other side.

Zoey blotted beads of moisture off her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket before starting the Jeep. It growled a few times in protest before settling into a rough, uneven purr that reminded Matt of George.

“Okay.” He leaned back. “Tell me about the wrinkles.”

“Haylie Owens and Rob Price.” Zoey put the car into gear and cranked up the heat. “Have you met them?”

Matt searched his inner database. “Rob is one of Zach Davis’s friends. I’ve seen him at church a few times.”

“According to Kate, Zach has been trying to get Rob more involved in the youth group. He plays the drums and Zach convinced him to come tonight by claiming it was a jam session. Haylie came with him.”

“Zach and Tim Davis remind me of the disciples, James and John. They reach out to a lot of the kids at the high school.”

“I was surprised Haylie stayed.”

“What makes you say that?”

Zoey frowned. “She kept to herself most of the evening. It was pretty obvious she didn’t want to be there, but Rob asked me if he could participate in the cantata.”

“Do you have a spot for him?”

“Uh, that would be another one of the wrinkles.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “Drums?”

“If Rob plays a quiet, measured beat on the bass drum right before the choir sings about the resurrection, it could be very powerful.”

He thought about it and realized she was right. “You’re the director.” And he trusted her judgment.

The Jeep bucked as Zoey’s foot stomped on the gas pedal.

“Really? Because drums would be something new.”

“That’s funny,” Matt mused. “Because I distinctly remember David talking about praising God with a variety of musical instruments in the Psalms.”

Zoey bit her lip. “I just don’t want to…cause any trouble for you.”