The Prodigal Comes Home (8 page)

And she never would have gotten into the car with Tyler Curtis that night.

“Zoey?” Matt appeared in the doorway, a grim look on his face. “I’m afraid this might take a while. If you don’t mind going on ahead without me, I’ll stop by and drop off the music and my sermon notes on the way home.” He raked a hand through his hair, tousling the burnished-gold strands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Maybe, Zoey thought, the interruption had been divine intervention instead. A gentle reminder that it wasn’t wise to let her guard down with Matt.

Based on the little she knew about him already, he sincerely cared about people. His close relationship with God had been evident in the simple but heartfelt prayer he had spoken at supper the night before. Matt’s confidence and strength, his easygoing smile and rock-solid faith, would encourage people to trust him.

Zoey felt a pang of envy even as she acknowledged that she could never accept that kind of pressure. Not because she didn’t care about people, but because she was afraid she would let them down.

“N
ow that is a Mona Lisa smile if I’ve ever seen one.”

Zoey hadn’t heard Gran come into the parlor. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?” Liz’s voice was teasing. “Or should I say about ‘who’?”

“About whether I should make an extra pot of coffee for the knitting group.” She tried to bluff her way through.

“Uh-huh.” The sparkle in the lively brown eyes told Zoey that her grandmother didn’t believe her.

“So, what do you think?” Zoey bent down and fussed with the napkins she’d arranged in a wicker basket.

Liz looked down at the array of goodies spread out on the coffee table. “I think that you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I appreciate your effort, Zoey, but please don’t feel any pressure to make things perfect. I’ve known these girls forever. There’s no need to impress anyone.”

Zoey didn’t argue. Or agree. Maybe it was true that Gran didn’t need to impress anyone, but the only thing people knew about her was the heartache she’d caused. Not only to her grandparents, but to the entire town.

Which once again prompted Zoey to wish that she could take back her impulsive offer to host Gran’s knitting group. As long as she could retreat to her bedroom and wait it out, though, she would be fine.

“I think everything’s ready.” Zoey took one last look at the table. “I’ll be in my room catching up on some reading.” She had brought along the script for the play so she could practice her lines during her absence, but she hadn’t had an opportunity to glance through it yet.

“Are you sure?” Disappointment clouded Liz’s eyes.

Zoey didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t want to ruin your evening.”

Gran squeezed her hand. “You wouldn’t ruin it, sweetheart, but I won’t push. Not tonight anyway,” she added with a mischievous smile.

Zoey chuckled. “Thanks for the warning.”

The sound of the door opening, along with a sudden chorus of cheerful greetings, sent Zoey’s heart into a tailspin. Apparently the knitting group didn’t feel compelled to knock before making their entrance.

“I’ll come down later, Gran. After everyone leaves.” Zoey practically sprinted toward the stairway.

And almost made it.

“Zoey?”

At the sound of her name, Zoey’s feet froze on the stairs.

She turned around slowly, knowing it would be rude to ignore the lilting voice and continue her mad dash to safety.

A trio of women close to her own age stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her. Two of them were strangers, but Zoey recognized the petite redhead in the middle.

Kate Nichols had been out of high school for several years by the time Zoey arrived in Mirror Lake, but she remembered her from the Grapevine, a favorite hangout for the local teenagers. Kate’s parents had owned the tiny diner, where she’d filled in as both short-order cook and waitress on the weekends.

Zoey’s heart dropped. “Hi, Kate.”

“I heard you were back.”

Of course she had.

Unsure of how to respond, Zoey sidled up another step. “Gran is waiting in the parlor.”

Before she could escape, the slender, tawny-haired young woman on Kate’s right bounded up the stairs and extended her hand. “I’m Abby Porter.”

“Zoey Decker.”

“It’s great to meet you.” Abby smiled as if she meant it.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Zoey mumbled, a little taken aback by the warmth of the greeting.

“I’m new in town, too,” Abby said.

That explained it, then. Abby Porter hadn’t connected the name Zoey Decker with the tragedy that had rocked the small town.

She spared a glance at Kate, surprised to find her expression still as open and friendly as Zoey remembered.

“And this is Emma Sutton.” Kate made the introduction for the other woman standing next to her. “Zoey Decker is Liz’s granddaughter.”

If that was the only thing Zoey was known for, she would be content.

“Hello.” Emma flashed a shy but pleasant smile. “Delia mentioned that you were going to be our hostess for the evening.”

Zoey tried not to cringe.

What else had Delia said?

“Not the hostess,” she denied. “I just put on a pot of coffee.” She glanced at Kate. “Actually, Kate provided the dessert.”

“Pie, right?” Abby crossed her arms. “Just to show me up.”

Zoey blinked.

“Abby bought the old Bible camp on the lake and turned it into a bed and breakfast last summer.” Kate’s shamrock-green eyes sparkled with laughter. She lowered her voice in a stage whisper. “She’s a phenomenal cook, but my pies are better.”

Abby nodded, not at all offended by the claim. “I’m trying to talk her into supplying the desserts for the inn. She claims that she’s too busy, but I never take no for an answer.”

“Neither does Kate,” Emma murmured.

Both women smiled smugly, as if she had given them a compliment.

“Well, have fun.” Zoey hoped they would take the hint.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Abby asked.

“Me?” Zoey’s eyes widened. “I don’t knit.”

And even though these three women didn’t look at her as if she were a stain on their best sweater, Zoey wasn’t ready to face Delia Peake and the rest of Gran’s friends from Church of the Pines.

“That makes four of us then,” Kate said cheerfully. “You’d be in good company. We’re the newest members of the Knit-Our-Hearts-Together group.” She shifted her weight to model the canvas tote draped over her shoulder. The light from the chandelier bounced off a pair of metallic-green knitting needles poking out of the top.

“I just joined last fall,” Emma chimed in. “I’m working on a scarf for my husband’s birthday, but at the rate it’s going, it will have to be a Christmas present instead.”

“I thought it was supposed to be a wedding gift.” Kate grinned.

Emma blushed but didn’t deny it.

“Emma and Jake got married a few months ago,” Abby explained. “Technically, she’s still on her honeymoon.”

Zoey’s fingers curled around the banister for support. “I don’t think—”

“At least give it a try,” Kate interrupted. “I’m sure Liz has some needles and yarn you can borrow.”

“And if you don’t like to knit, you can always eat pie,” Abby interjected.

Zoey sighed. Apparently Emma was right. They weren’t going to take no for an answer.

Half an hour later, Zoey wished they had.

The knitting group had grown in membership over the years, but Zoey recognized many of the women who crowded into the parlor. Gran took a moment at the beginning of the meeting to introduce her, but judging from the expressions on the women’s faces, which ranged from mild disapproval to outright hostility, it hadn’t been necessary.

Zoey could almost read their thoughts. Ten years ago, what was supposed to have been a day of celebration had turned into a day of mourning instead. Because of her.

Rose Williams, who arrived a few minutes late, looked ready to walk out when she spotted Zoey sitting by the fireplace. If Esther Redstone hadn’t waved her over and pointed to an empty chair, Zoey had no doubt the woman would have stormed out rather than spend an hour in the same room with her.

Rose and Tyler Curtis’s mother had been close friends and even though the rest of the group had settled in and started to work on their projects, Zoey could still feel the woman’s glare across the room.

If only she could come up with an excuse to leave…

“It’s okay,” Abby whispered, the look of compassion in her eyes making Zoey wonder if she was talking about the knitting project. “You’re doing great.”

Kate leaned closer and studied the row of knots tightly coiled around Zoey’s knitting needle. “She’s right. You’re getting the hang of it.”

“It’s much better than my first attempt,” Emma agreed with a smile.

Zoey’s eyes stung. She hadn’t expected this, especially when none of her so-called “friends” had stood up for her after the accident. But Kate, Emma and Abby seemed oblivious to the fact that reaching out to her might somehow damage their own standing in the group. Instead, they had positioned themselves around her, creating a human buffer between Zoey and the disapproving looks and occasional whispered comment.

Kate reached for the coffee carafe and frowned. “I think it’s empty—again.”

“I’ll get some more.” Zoey almost snatched it from Kate’s hand in her haste to escape for a few minutes. While she put another pot on to brew, she began to straighten up the kitchen.

“You can drop the act now. No one is watching.”

Zoey glanced over her shoulder and saw Rose Williams framed in the doorway. “Act?”

Her confusion must have shown because Rose rolled her eyes. “The helpful, attentive granddaughter act,” she clarified. “Liz has been proudly telling everyone that you’re an actress, but she doesn’t seem to realize that makes her look just as naive as she was years ago—and you more trouble, if that’s possible. I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face in Mirror Lake again.”

Zoey met her gaze. “I’m here to help.”

Something flickered in Rose’s eyes and then her expression hardened. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for being honest, though, do you?”

Zoey opened her mouth but then closed it again. She wanted to try and convince Rose to believe her, but she couldn’t.

Because Rose was right.

She’d hidden the truth before.

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “If you really want to help, you’ll—”

“Oh, she’s already been a great help,” a quiet voice interrupted.

Zoey’s heart skipped a beat as Matt sauntered in.

“Pastor Wilde.” Rose Williams’s smile stretched so tight Matt was sure it would snap off and ricochet around the room.

“Hello, Mrs. Williams.” Matt glanced at Zoey. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but whatever it was, she looked as wilted as a wildflower in the aftermath of a storm. “I’m sorry I’m late dropping off my sermon notes. I didn’t want to disturb the meeting, so I thought I’d sneak in and leave them on the table.”

“You two know each other?” Rose squawked.

“No.” Zoey shook her head at the same time Matt nodded.

“Yes.”

The contradictory statements collided in midair. Matt grinned, but Rose didn’t look amused. Not at all.

“I see,” she said stiffly.

Matt took a step forward and Zoey pedaled backward until she bumped against the counter. “He lives next door.”

Matt wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but it looked like she was tempted to apologize for that. “Right,” he said cheerfully. “That means we’re neighbors.”

“Neighbors.” Rose’s lips compressed to a stern hyphen.

Matt couldn’t figure it out. On several occasions, Rose had hopped on the matchmaking bandwagon and hinted that she would love to see him settle down with a “nice Christian woman.” Here he was, standing less than five feet away from what Matt thought would be a perfect woman for the woman’s “list” of possible candidates and Rose looked as if Zoey didn’t have a right to be in the same room with him.

“I’ll be sure to give your notes to Gran,” Zoey said.

Matt took the hint, although he was reluctant to leave the two women alone. “Thanks for passing this on to Liz.” He handed Zoey the manila envelope. “And let her know that if she sees any mistakes in my sermon, she should let me know. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

He smiled to let Zoey know that he was teasing, but Rose was the one who responded.

“You’re right. A person’s reputation is very important.”

She was looking at Zoey when she said it.

M
att’s lungs were burning.

He ignored the pain as he rounded the corner, feeling the muscles in his calves contract in protest. Ordinarily he ran five miles every other weekday, taking a circular route around the lake. This morning, he’d already put in six. On a Saturday.

After he’d become a Christian, Matt had tried to pray in a quiet room because he thought it was the “right” way to connect with the Lord, but he had discovered that he felt closer to God while running down a quiet backwoods road. Over time, Matt’s prayers had begun to merge with the landscape. Familiar landmarks sparked a prayer for a specific person or situation.

A fieldstone wall, constructed by early settlers, inspired a prayer for strength and endurance. The cluster of knee-high aspen trees that sprouted in the shade of a sugar maple, the mentoring ministry. A towering white pine, its bark scorched by lightning, reminded him to pray for those who were hurting.

This morning his thoughts—and his prayers—centered around a certain woman with eyes that changed color like the surface of the lake and a husky laugh that lingered in his mind like a favorite song.

Zoey was the reason he’d crawled out of bed at five o’clock and reached for his sweats.

Matt skidded to a stop when he reached the place they’d met. An oil spot marked the spot where a rusty Jeep had been parked.

Lord, I don’t know what’s going on with Zoey, but you do. Comfort her. Remind her that you love her.

Matt’s eyes snapped open at the sound of an approaching car. He stepped onto the shoulder of the road, but instead of passing him, it cruised to a stop.

Matt glanced over his shoulder and recognized the driver as the window of the squad car scrolled down.

“Saturday morning?” Jake Sutton drawled. “What’s the occasion?”

“Does everyone know my routine?” Matt complained.

“I’m sure I saw it posted on the community calendar.”

Matt chuckled. “Isn’t Saturday morning a change in your routine, too?”

“I’m covering for Steve Patterson,” Jake explained. “His wife went into labor during the night.”

“I thought in those types of situations, the police chief is supposed to call in one of his officers and go back to sleep.” It was a standing joke between the two men. What Matt liked to refer to as their “on call, 24/8” lives.

“I don’t mind helping out for a few hours.” Jake’s broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I promised to be home by nine. With donuts.”

Matt grinned. “You’re perpetuating the cliché, you know.”

“They’re for Emma and Jeremy.” A half smile softened the stern line of Jake’s jaw.

Matt felt an unexpected twinge of envy. The police chief, a former undercover drug officer, was known for being reserved. But when it came to his new family, his feelings were right there on the surface for everyone to see.

Matt had performed the couple’s wedding ceremony in January. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the sanctuary when Jeremy Barlow, Emma’s eleven-year-old son from her first marriage, had walked his mother up the aisle.

Matt stepped back. “In that case, I better let you get to work. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Do you want a ride into town?”

“That would be cheating.”

“It would also be faster.”

At the moment, faster looked good. Faster meant that he could stop by Liz’s house and beg a cup of coffee. And see Zoey again.

“You talked me into it.” Matt jogged around to the passenger side of the squad car and got in.

Jake gave him a sidelong glance. “That was easy.”

“I have to stop by Liz’s and pick up my sermon notes for tomorrow.”

“How is she doing?”

Matt gave him a sharp look. There was a serious undercurrent in Jake’s voice that made the question sound less like a casual inquiry and more like he was being interviewed.

“Better than she was a week ago.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you know something I don’t know?” Matt was only half joking.

“I got a call a little while ago from a neighbor, asking if I could swing by and do a welfare check on Liz.”

A welfare check. That seemed a little odd to Matt. “I don’t think that’s necessary. She has family staying with her now.”

“I know. Her granddaughter, Zoey Decker. Emma mentioned meeting her last night, but I didn’t think anything of it. According to the neighbor who called, there is some sort of history between the two of them. She’s afraid that Zoey is going to take advantage of Liz in some way.”

“That’s crazy,” Matt said flatly.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I was visiting Liz when Zoey arrived. Liz was thrilled to see her.”

“You have to admit the timing is a little coincidental.”

“Yes. It coincides with Liz’s release from the hospital.”

Okay, so he sounded a little defensive. Jake must have thought so too because he frowned.

“Apparently there was some kind of estrangement in the family a few years back,” Jake said carefully. “The caller didn’t go into detail—”

“Really?” Matt interrupted. “I’m surprised.”

That earned him another long look. “All right. I trust your judgment, Matt. What is
your
impression of Zoey?”

Matt opened his mouth and then closed it again.

What was his impression of Zoey?

Sweet. Spunky. Cautious. Caring.
Beautiful.

“So…” There was a glint of amusement in Jake’s eyes, as if Matt had answered the question out loud.

Matt’s face heated. “Liz is thrilled that Zoey is there. No matter what happened between them in the past, I believe that Zoey Decker’s motives are good. I’m not sure that opening up old wounds would be good for either of them. If they’re willing to put whatever happened behind them, why can’t everyone else?”

“I wasn’t planning to open up ‘old wounds,’” Jake said after a moment. “But I didn’t get the sense that the neighbor wanted to cause trouble. She sounded genuinely concerned about Liz.”

But who was concerned about Zoey? That’s what Matt wanted to know.

“Calling the police seems a little extreme, that’s all.” Matt was tempted to say more, but didn’t want their friendship to prevent Jake from doing his job.

“Fine.” Jake sighed. “Consider yourself deputized.”

“What?”

“I’ll back off. You’re not only Liz Decker’s pastor, you’re also her closest neighbor. In my book, that gives you the right to keep an eye on things.”

“Thanks—”

“But,” Jake stopped him with a look. “If something doesn’t feel right, you have to let me know. In our careers, we can’t let personal feelings get in the way.”

Matt nodded even as he wondered if it was too late for that.

Zoey snuggled deeper into the hollow of the mattress and stared up at the stars on the ceiling. Her eyes felt dry and gritty, a reminder that she’d been awake for more hours than she had been asleep.

Gran’s cough seemed to worsen during the night. Zoey had gotten up to check on her several times, refilling her glass of water on the nightstand and adjusting the pillows so that she could breathe easier.

Liz had finally fallen asleep, but Zoey curled up in the rocking chair next to the window, not wanting to go back to her own room until she was sure her grandmother was all right.

A long time ago, Liz had maintained a similar vigil at Zoey’s bedside.

Fatigue made it impossible to battle the memories that began to rise inexorably to the surface…

The pain radiating throughout her body that made it difficult to open her eyes.

And an overwhelming sense of dread that had made her
not
want to open them.

There were still times when Zoey wished that she hadn’t. Times she wished she could have remained wrapped in a cocoon of hospital blankets, dulled to the pain she was in.

And the pain she’d caused.

Only her grandparents had come to visit her. The rest of the town had been in mourning for Tyler. Zoey’s parents had called but she refused to talk to them. Within twenty-four hours of her release from the hospital, Zoey had left Mirror Lake for good.

The regrets seemed to sprout like weeds. She pulled one and it seemed as if another took its place.

“You reap what you sow,” her father had always said.

Up until six months ago, Zoey had taken it as a negative. Now she understood that a person could plant good things, too. Kindness. Patience. Compassion.

Zoey slid to her knees beside the bed and closed her eyes, letting God continue to transform the landscape of her life.

Half an hour later, Zoey made her way to the bedroom at the end of the hall and eased the door open.

She was about to call her grandmother’s name when the blankets twitched. The tightness in Zoey’s chest loosened as she backed away.

Gran had teased her the night before by asking for a “wake up call” but Zoey decided to let her sleep a while longer.

Blurry-eyed, she made her way down to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Taking it to the table, she gently pushed Gran’s worn leather Bible and reading glasses to the side, uncovering Matt’s sermon notes in the process. All over the page, written in an uneven masculine scrawl, were various scripture references.

These were the foundation of the Sunday message?

Growing up, Zoey had seen her father’s meticulous, three-point sermon notes. With a warning tacked on to each verse like a footnote.

One of the passages jumped out at her and she sucked in a breath.

Psalm 40.

She opened Gran’s Bible with trembling fingers and thumbed through it. She wasn’t sure which section would be the focus of Matt’s sermon, but she focused her attention on the third verse.

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.

It was like a gentle reminder from God. An extension of the conversation they had just finished at the side of her bed.

“Thank You,” she whispered.

This was the same verse that had brought her back to faith.

Six months ago, tired of the emptiness, Zoey had accepted an invitation from Melissa, one of her fellow cast mates, to attend church with her. They had had a long conversation over coffee after the service. It was a turning point in Zoey’s life. The moment she’d realized that although she had walked away from God, He still loved her. He hadn’t abandoned her.

Zoey remembered praying for an opportunity to reconnect with her family.

Her lips curved.

She had assumed it would happen through an email. Or a long-distance phone call.

The God that Zoey had once imagined to be stern and unapproachable definitely had a sense of humor.

“The coffee smells good.” Liz appeared in the doorway, sniffing the air appreciatively. “You should have woken me. I don’t usually laze away the morning in bed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock, Gran,” Zoey pointed out with a smile as she rose to pour another cup.

Her grandmother sank into one of the straight-back chairs at the table. “I’m sorry I kept you up during the night.”

“I remember giving you a few sleepless nights,” Zoey said lightly. “Let’s call it even.”

Liz reached for her glasses and slipped them on. The Bible still lay open on the table, Matt’s notes spread out beside it. She chuckled. “A little difficult to decipher, aren’t they?”

Zoey blushed as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I can’t believe he preaches an entire sermon from a few random words written on a piece of paper. Dad’s sermons ran about ten pages and he arranged each point alphabetically.”

She was teasing, but Liz didn’t return the smile. “I don’t mean to sound critical, Zoey, but your father could only make sense of things when they were structured a certain way.”

Zoey’s throat tightened.

Pastor Decker liked order. In his sermons. His church. His schedule.

His daughter.

A natural move toward independence had been viewed as rebellion. A flaw in the mold everyone had expected her to fit. The older Zoey got, the more she felt the weight of peoples’ expectations.

She had tried to please her parents. At their encouragement, she was involved in the youth group and performed special music for Christmas and Easter services.

The trouble had crested when Zoey auditioned for the musical her high school put on every spring. A freshman had never been chosen to play the lead female role but Zoey got the part.

Two weeks into rehearsals, Zoey’s father had called her into his office. Several members of the congregation had questioned her involvement in the play, suggesting that her time would be better spent in church-related activities. Not only that, several of the teenagers came from questionable families and they
knew
that Pastor Decker wouldn’t want Zoey to be spending time with kids who might have a negative influence on her.

Her father had agreed.

After that, anger and disappointment had fueled Zoey’s choices. If people were going to believe the worst no matter what she did, why not do whatever she wanted?

That question had started Zoey’s journey into a dark tunnel. One that had separated her from her family. And from God. For a long time, Zoey believed she would never be good enough for Him either.

“Matthew’s sermons might not look organized, but they come from the heart,” Liz was saying. “I knew there was something special about him the first time we met at his interview. He knows what’s important.”

“The church.”

“People.” Her grandmother smiled. “That’s why everyone respects him. He accepts them right where they are.”

Zoey pushed to her feet. Talking about Matt stirred up a longing that she wasn’t prepared to examine too closely.

“I thought I’d run to the grocery store this morning and pick up a few things.”

“Do you mind running the notes over to Matt before you leave? He practices his sermons on Saturday afternoon.”

Zoey stifled a groan. Hopefully Matt would be gone and she could leave the papers in the door.