Return to Me (20 page)

Elena was wrong. He wasn’t in love with Roxy. But how could he help her see that? His hand fisted around the ring. He’d figure it

out. He’d do something, say something! He loved Elena, and noth- ing was going to keep them apart. Nothing and no one . . .

A chill passed through him. Bringing with it a truth he couldn’t deny. He was wrong. One person could keep them apart. Could deny their love. Could end his dream of serving God with Elena at his side. One person could ruin it all.

Elena.

=

Roxy glanced toward the street in front of her sister’s home. “Where’s Wyatt’s car?”

It hadn’t taken her and her father long to go home from the restaurant, change from their nice clothes into attire more suitable for cleaning a garage, and drive to Elena’s. Thirty or forty minutes at most.

“Maybe he ran an errand,” her father suggested.

They followed the walkway to Elena’s front door, Roxy leading the way. “I thought they’d be hard at it and accuse us of slacking.” She rang the doorbell. After a short while without an answer, she opened the storm door and knocked.

“I’ll try calling to see where they are.” Jonathan plucked the mobile phone from his belt and flipped it open. He spoke Elena’s name into the auto dialer and waited.

Roxy rang the doorbell again, feeling an odd discomfort. “Hmm. No answer on her cell. I got her voice mail.” Her father

punched the End key without leaving a message. “I’ll try Wyatt’s number.”

She leaned to the side to peer into the formal living room. She could see little through the sheer window coverings.

“Wyatt? It’s Jonathan. Roxy and I are at Elena’s and we’re won- dering where you are . . . No, she doesn’t seem to be home and she

doesn’t answer her cell phone . . . Well, no. It’s not a problem. We can do it another time . . . Of course. I’ll talk to you later.” He low- ered the phone from his ear and closed the cover.

“Dad?”

Her father shook his head. “He said something came up and he had to leave.” He looked at Roxy. “He apologized for the incon- venience. He didn’t know where Elena went.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” He mimicked Roxy’s action of moments before, leaning over to look through the living room window. “I guess we’ll have to wait until she tells us.”

Twenty-Two

Wyatt sat on the ottoman in his den, arms resting on his thighs, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the engagement ring as he turned it between his fingers, the diamond glinting in the sunlight that fell through the west-facing window.

His mind felt numb from hours of trying to make sense of things. He replayed the scenes of the day again and again, wanting them to come out differently. They never did. They always ended with him right here, sitting alone in his den, holding an unwanted engagement ring.

How could it go that wrong this fast?

God . . .

He’d tried to pray, but the words wouldn’t form. Instead, he heard Elena saying,
“You don’t love me, Wyatt. You’re still in love with Roxy.”

How could she think it? Didn’t she know him better than that?

Didn’t their years together tell her anything?

“You’re still in love with Roxy.”

Was he? Did he love Roxy Burke?

Well, yes. In a way, he did. He couldn’t —
wouldn’t
— deny that he cared for her, but it wasn’t in the way Elena thought. He wasn’t
in
love with her. That’s why he’d told Elena his feelings were complicated. He supposed it was not unlike when a person lost a beloved spouse, then later fell in love and married again. The old feelings were there, but different.

But Roxy wasn’t dead. She was alive and well and residing in Boise. If
⎯
no,
when
⎯
Wyatt married Elena, Roxy would be his sister-in-law. They would see each other at family gatherings. They

would spend holidays together. She would be an aunt to his chil- dren; he would be an uncle to hers. Their lives would be forever entwined.

Was Elena right to be angry with him? Was she right to be suspicious of his feelings? Did something more exist between him and Roxy than he thought? A feeling he wasn’t aware of?

God . . .

If Elena was right, then he didn’t belong in the ministry. If he didn’t know his heart any better than that, he wasn’t fit to be a leader. If he didn’t know his own desires, he couldn’t know others’, and he would be useless as a pastor.

He slipped off the ottoman onto his knees, bending forward at the waist until his forehead touched the carpet.

God . . . Help me!

=

Sunset wasn’t far off when Elena pulled into her dad’s driveway and turned the key in the ignition, silencing the engine.

She’d ignored the many calls from her father and Roxy throughout the day, letting them leave messages on her voice mail. She still wasn’t ready to talk about what happened between her and Wyatt, but she couldn’t allow them to worry about her overnight. That would be too selfish and unkind. Causing loved ones to worry was more Roxy’s style.

She winced, recognizing how bitter her thoughts were. Not that she didn’t have just cause for her feelings. But still . . .

With a sigh, she got out of the car and headed for the front door. She chose to ring the doorbell rather than use her key. For some reason, it wouldn’t feel right to let herself in tonight.

Moments later the door opened. Surprise widened Roxy’s eyes an instant before relief replaced it. “Elena, where have you been?” She reached for her hand. “Dad and I’ve been calling and calling.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I . . . I needed some time alone.”

“Why?” Roxy pulled her into the house with a gentle tug. “What happened? Did you and Wyatt quarrel?”

She ignored her sister’s questions, asking one of her own instead. “Where’s Dad?”

“Watching TV in the family room.”

She slipped her hand from Roxy’s grasp. “Let’s join him. I want to say this once.” She headed down the entry hall.

When her father saw her, he rose from his chair. “Elena.” The same relief was in his voice that had been in her sister’s.

“Hi, Dad.” Her spine was stiff, her chin tilted up. With her eyes she begged him not to touch her, feeling as if she would shat- ter if he did.

He must have read her mind. “Let’s all sit, shall we?” As he did so, he punched the mute button on the remote, plunging the room into silence.

While Elena sat on the upholstered rocking chair, Roxy settled onto the arm of her father’s leather recliner. The sight of them like that caused a lump to form in Elena’s throat. Loneliness swept over her. She’d lost both of the men in her life to Roxy.

Unfair. It was so unfair.

She swallowed the threatening tears. “Something happened after brunch this morning. Wyatt and I—” She drew a deep breath and released it. “I called off our engagement.”

“What?”

“Elena!”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t go through with the wedding. There are . . . there are a number of reasons.”
And one of them is sit- ting across from me right now.

“But Elena — ” Roxy’s voice was breathless — “how can you — ”

Jonathan touched Roxy’s knee, silencing his younger daughter. “Are you certain you’re doing the right thing, my dear?”

“Yes.”

No.

“Is there anything we can do? To make this time easier for you, I mean.”

“No, Dad. There isn’t anything you can do.” She stood. She had to get away. She didn’t want to cry in front of them. “I’ll be fine.”

Roxy and their father stood too.

“Please.” Elena raised a hand, like a cop halting traffic. “I . . . I’ve got to go now. Roxy, you’ll take care of canceling the bridal shower? I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Of course, I will. But, Elena — ”

“I’ll see you both at the office.” She rushed from the room.

=

Roxy felt sick in the pit of her stomach. “What do you think hap- pened, Dad?”

“I haven’t a clue. They seemed the same as always when we were at the restaurant.”

Dad was wrong about that. There’d been a strange, underlying tension this morning. It started when Wyatt suggested she join the praise team. But they couldn’t have fought over that, could they?

“What can we do?”

Her father shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose, except wait and pray.”

“Wyatt must be devastated.”

“I imagine so. Hopefully they’ll work through whatever caused this rift.”

Maybe I should call him.
Her stomach fluttered.
A good friend

would call him.

Images of last Monday, when she went with Elena to the bridal shop, drifted into her mind. How she’d envisioned herself as a bride in one of those beautiful gowns . . . as
Wyatt’s
bride.
Lord, help me. I don’t know what to feel or how to stop such dangerous thoughts.
And she needed to stop them. Wyatt was, after all, destined to be her brother-in-law.

Or he had been until today.

She swallowed. Hard. Did she want to call Wyatt as a friend offering sympathy and consolation?

Or did she want to offer him something more? Herself.

R
OXY

March 2000

The late afternoon air was warm for mid-March, and the sun that bathed the apartment’s tiny deck in golden light was too inviting to ignore. Roxy grabbed her mother’s old guitar and went outside, where she sank onto a molded plastic chair. She plucked the strings, adjusting each one until the instrument was in tune.

When Roxy was little, her mom would sometimes bring the guitar with her when she came to tuck her daughters in for the night. Carol Burke would sit on the edge of one of their beds
⎯
that was when Elena and Roxy shared a bedroom
⎯
and she would sing to them while strumming the Martin.

If Roxy closed her eyes and listened hard enough, sometimes it seemed she could hear her mom singing. Oh, there was nothing so sweet and lovely as her mom’s voice.

The guitar had been a Christmas present to Carol from Jona- than when they were newlyweds with little money to spare. Roxy had heard the story of that Christmas many times when she was

a child. Her mom always said that guitar
⎯
and the sacrifice it represented
⎯
was her most treasured possession.

Roxy didn’t plan to take much with her when she left for Nash- ville. After all, she would have plenty of money with which to buy new things, thanks to the inheritance Grandma Ruth left her. But she would take her mom’s guitar. Maybe it would bring her good luck. After all, her mom had been offered representation by some big shot Nashville agent back in 1969. If it could happen to Carol Burke, why not to her daughter?

The big difference would be, when Roxy was offered, she would accept. She wouldn’t make the same choice her mom made.

“Hey, beautiful.” Wyatt stepped onto the deck, his keys still in hand. “Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I saw you out here when I drove into the parking lot.”

Why would she mind? He’d been letting himself into her apartment since she moved in here several years ago.

“I didn’t expect to see you today.” She strummed a few chords. Wednesday nights, Wyatt went to some sort of men’s meeting at the church. It made her jaw clench to think about it.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He sat on the other chair.

Just as long as it wasn’t another one of his religious lectures. Ever since he decided to call himself a Christian, church and the Bible were all he seemed to talk about. He was even worse than her dad and sister.

“Roxy . . .”

It occurred to her that he seemed nervous. Now that was weird. Wyatt always seemed sure of himself. That was the lawyer part of him.

“Roxy, will you marry me?” Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. Not very romantic. I meant to tell you that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She and Wyatt had been a couple for most of the past decade. Sure, they broke up and made up, broke up and made up. That’s how they were. They’d been through good times and bad together, including one rough week when she thought she might be pregnant. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. But marriage?

“I expect to make partner in the firm before long. We could get a nice house with a yard for when we have kids and
⎯
”

“Kids? Wyatt, I’ve got my career to think about. You know I don’t want to stay in Boise. I have to be in Nashville. There’s not much chance of running into a record producer at the Pale Rider.”

He leaned forward. “There’s not much chance of running into anybody who’s good for you at the Pale Rider.”

“Don’t be a prig.” “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” She set the guitar aside, rose from her chair, and stepped to the deck railing. “You, Dad, and Elena are always trying to make me into something I’m not.”

Wyatt’s hands closed around her upper arms. “I love you, Roxy. I want things to be right between us. I want to be your husband. We could have a good life together.”

Understanding burst in her brain as she whirled toward him. “Wyatt Baldini, you want to make an honest woman of me.”

He didn’t deny it.

“You think because we’ve slept together that you’ve got to marry me or burn in hell for it. Well, you can forget that, buster.”

“That isn’t why. I
⎯
”

She turned her back toward him. “You’re no fun to be with these days, you know that?”

“Roxy
⎯
” He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t bother.” She brushed him away. “I don’t need another lecture.”

“I don’t lecture you.”

She released an unladylike snort as she faced him once again. “You’d think different if you were on the receiving end.”

Anger and confusion passed across his face, and for a moment, she regretted the things she’d said. She didn’t want to hurt him.

“Maybe I’d better go. I didn’t come here to fight.”

That’s when it hit her. Wyatt didn’t believe in her! He didn’t think she meant to go to Nashville when she came into her inheri- tance. How could that be? He said he loved her and yet he didn’t know that a career in music was what she wanted most. He’d become even more like her dad and sister than she’d thought.