The Runaway Pastor's Wife (2 page)

BLUE
CHRISTMAS

By
Diane Moody

Click
HERE

DEDICATION

From a former pastor’s wife

to all those still living in the fish bowl,
while—

teaching like Beth Moore,

reaching like Billy Graham,

nurturing like Mother Teresa,

parenting like Dr. Dobson,

informing like Oprah,

dressing like Princess Diana,

and of course,

playing the piano

(in a pinch)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Brandi Wilson, my pastor’s wife, who
makes it all look so easy with three young boys and a rock star husband. You’re
my hero!

To Debbie and
Terry
Capes
, for
your faithful encouragement through all these years to complete this book.
Mission
accomplished!

To Sally Wilson, my incredible writing
buddy who keeps me motivated and holds my feet to the Red Tree fire. I couldn’t
do it without you!

And finally to Ken, my patient husband of
thirty years

who believes in me far more than I’ll ever
believe in myself.

Thanks for making the journey such a cool
ride.

Prologue

Stillwater
,
Oklahoma

Seventeen years ago

“I don’t have a clue.”

“He’s your best friend—what do you mean you
don’t have a clue?”

“Correction.
You
are my best friend.”
Michael Dean leaned across the plaid-covered table to plant a pizza kiss on his
girlfriend’s lips.

“Michael!” Annie Franklin snatched a napkin to
wipe her mouth.

“What?”

“Look at this,” she flipped the napkin smeared
with pizza sauce. “You can sweet talk me any day, but lose the grease first,
okay?”

He watched his girlfriend, enjoying her
reprimand. He drank in the sight of her long brown hair, curled and shining
even in the dim candlelight of their favorite pizza dive. Her sparkling eyes, a
rich shade of deep sable, danced as if hiding some delicious secret—eyes that
never failed to mesmerize him.

And her smile . . . he could
lose himself in that smile. Any time, any day. He reached for another slice of
pizza, folded it in half, and took a huge bite. “You’re beautiful when you get
mad,” he mumbled. “Did you know that?” He locked gazes with her as she finished
wiping her mouth.

A reluctant smile spread across her face. “Stop
changing the subject. Why is Grady so upset?”

He knew Annie wasn’t afraid to plow through his
evasiveness. After three and a half years together, she knew his every nuance.
He could hide nothing from her. Inseparable since meeting the first week of
their freshman year at
Oklahoma
State
University
, he
enjoyed the honesty and openness between them—a trait he knew she cherished.
And while they didn’t always agree on every subject, there was nothing they
wouldn’t or couldn’t discuss.

He took a long gulp from his frosted glass of
root beer and wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s
ticked off at Coach for benching him the last five games. Can’t say as I blame
him.”

“Me neither. You’d be climbing the dugout walls
if it was you.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.
“No kidding. I mean, think about it, Annie—it’s our
senior year. This is
it
. The stands are crawling with scouts, and
there’s Grady—parked on his keister.
Look, I feel for him,
but what am I supposed to do?”

Annie pushed her plate aside.
“I’m sure it doesn’t help that those same scouts are
swarming all over
you
.” She reached for his hand.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Can I help it
if I’m incredibly awesome?”

“Not to mention arrogant, cocky—” She pulled her
hand back, grabbing a napkin to wipe off his pizza lip print.

“Seriously, I’m sorry it’s happened to him, but
at this point I can’t carry him any more.” Michael leaned back in the booth.
“The stakes are too high. If I’m gonna go in the first or second round of the
draft, I’ve got to concentrate on my own game. Grady’s got to look out for
himself.”

“I know, but I hate to see him so depressed.
Grady’s like family to us. We can’t just let him suffer. I wish there was—”

Wham!

A pile of textbooks slammed onto their table.
“Hi guys! Oooh . . . pepperoni! My favorite! Scoot over, Annie.”
The spirited blonde plopped down in the booth next to Annie, making herself at
home. “Hey
Brandon
?” she yelled over her shoulder. “Bring me
a plate and a Diet Coke, okay?” The waiter nodded his reply as she reached for
a slice of pizza. “So what’s going on?”

“Christine, nice of you to join us,” Michael
laughed. “Please—don’t be shy. Have some pizza.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she answered, missing his
sarcasm. “Michael, what’d you get on that Business Finance exam?” She popped a
piece of pepperoni into her mouth. “That one ate my lunch. I’ll be lucky if I
even passed it.”

“I doubt that.” He winked at Annie. “But I don’t
know what I got on it. I was out of town for a game and haven’t checked the
grade postings yet.”  He took another drink, watching his two favorite girls.
Best friends since middle school, Annie and Christine Benson were as different
as day and night but closer than sisters. Their friendship was something to
behold. A genuine work of art.

“Whatever. Hey, Annie? Can I borrow your black
dress?” Christine took a sip from Annie’s glass. “I have a date tonight.”

“The last time you wore it you got salsa on it
and didn’t bother to have it cleaned. Tell me one good reason I should loan it
to you again.”

“Because I’m your best friend? Because I know
all your juicy little secrets?”

“You’re reaching, girlfriend.”

“Because my date has two extra tickets to see
James Taylor next week?”

Michael slapped his open palms on the table.
“Loan her the dress! Just make sure she hands over the tickets first. All
right, Tumbleweed!” He stretched across the table to give Christine a playful
kiss on the cheek.

“Stop it!” She pulled away. “You know I hate
that stupid name. Grady says it all the time and it annoys me to death.”

He ignored her as usual. “Hey, Annie. You ’n me
and James Taylor. How about it?” His eyebrows danced as he crooned the opening
lyrics of
Something in the Way She Moves.

“Sing it, sweet baby James,” Annie swooned.

Michael continued, his pitch perfect as he sang
the familiar, romantic words of the song they’d long ago dubbed “their” song.

“That’s real nice, but what’s the big deal?”
Christine complained. “I was kind of disappointed Seth had these tickets. I’d
rather see Springsteen. Or Michael Jackson. James Taylor is just too, I don’t
know,
sedate
for me.”

Michael’s serenade continued, the lyrics echoing
in his glass when he took a sip of root beer. He wiped his mouth again.
“Because James Taylor is a classic. He’s the hands-down, all-time best
singer-songwriter there is. You should feel blessed—your date has excellent
taste in music. Just like us. We like the real deal, the main man, the true
blue, Sweet Baby James. Don’t we, Annie?” He reached for her hand across the
table.

“We do, that we do.” She smiled back at him with
a wink. “Christine, the dress is yours. But this time, don’t bring it back
until you get it dry cleaned, got it? Tickets or no tickets.”

“Sure. Whatever,” Christine dismissed. “But
while we’re at it, there are more important things to discuss here. Like shoes.
I need your black stilettos to go with the dress.”

“Yes, Annie. She simply MUST have those
stilettos.” Michael batted his eyes, swishing his dangling wrist across the
table. “Though personally, I’d prefer the strappy rhinestone sandals. But
that’s just me.”

Annie flicked a packet of sugar, hitting him
square on the nose. “Enough! I don’t wear your cleats, sweet thing, so you stay
away from my shoes. Got it?”

She gazed across the table at Michael who was
still laughing at his own joke. He rolled his head back, then finally caught
his breath and leveled his eyes back toward her.

And there it was. That lopsided,
boy-next-door grin that melted her every time. How could a smile say so much?
As if every emotion in his body was expressed in that one simple gesture.
Dimples as deep as the
Grand Canyon
set in a golden tan. Perfect
white teeth. The sun-kissed highlights in his shaggy brown hair, still wet from
his after-practice shower. Annie sighed, taking it all in. She rested her chin
on her hand and lost herself in his warm brown eyes.

Oblivious to Christine or the other patrons of
Hideaway Pizza, Annie felt a surge wash over her like she’d never known before.
In that single moment, she knew without a shadow of doubt she would spend the
rest of her life with this man who meant more to her than life itself.

I love you,
she mouthed silently.

He winked again.
I love you more.

CHAPTER 1

Tampa
,
Florida

Present day

Annie McGregor felt the heat of impatience creep
up her neck as she clutched the steering wheel, the cell phone cradled against
her shoulder. “Because I can’t be there. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to
manage without me.”

“Well, calling Tuesday morning is rather short
notice, don’t you think?”

Annie bristled. “Fran, I know it’s short notice.
Something has come up and I simply can’t make it to Bible study this morning.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she merged into the flow of traffic entering the
Tampa
International
Airport
, irritated
at the obstinacy on the other end of the line. Didn’t “assistant” mean you
assisted
when necessary?

“What’s wrong, Annie?  You sound upset.”

Fran’s tone iced through her veins. “I’m not
upset! But I don’t think I should have to explain myself just because I can’t
be there. You’ll do fine without me. Run the video then break them into their
small groups. It’s not that hard, Fran.”

“Are you sick? Is one of the kids sick? Is it
David? Is something wrong?”

Here we go again. All the questions. The
constant prying
.
Why does everyone think
they’re entitled to know my every thought and action?
Annie took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. Fran
wasn’t a beast. She meant well. “Look Fran, I can’t be there. Can we just leave
it at that?” She cringed at the hypocritical tone of her own voice
.

“Annie, what’s gotten into you? You’ve been so
irritable lately. And I don’t mind telling you, I’m not the only one who thinks
so.”

“Fine. I’m irritable. I’m crabby. I’m obnoxious.
So
sue
me.”

She snapped the phone off and tossed it toward
her purse in the passenger seat. Annie bit her lower lip to dam the flood of
tears, desperate to keep her appearance intact until she walked through the
door of Christine’s cabin in
Colorado
. Catching her
reflection in the rearview mirror, she was startled by the angry woman looking
back at her. Tiny red lines laced roadmaps across tired brown eyes, normally
warm and smiling. With her thick hair pulled back into a long pony tail, her
face looked pale despite an earlier dash of make-up, her lips pinched in an
absurd scowl. Disgusted, she muttered a growl and pressed her foot harder
against the accelerator as she flew through the ribbons of traffic approaching
the airport terminals.