Return To Love. Betsy St. Amant

shrugged and averted her eyes, tired of the painful memories. “He left all of us.”

      The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Gracie gratefully stabbed her straw into the ice, glad for the distraction. But Lori wouldn’t let it go.

      “Do you think Carter will actually come to the fund-raiser?”

      “Not if I don’t officially invite him.”

      Lori’s gaze jerked to meet Gracie’s. “What do you mean? You have to!”

      “No, I don’t. He wouldn’t want to come anyway. If he did, it’d just be out of pity or some twisted form of obligation.” Besides, she didn’t want the extra headache of Carter’s presence while trying to carry off the important evening. It was bad enough trying to choke down dinner knowing he was two hundred feet away. A lot was riding on the event’s success, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let an unsettling blast from her past rob the penguins of their new home.

      That is, if she didn’t single-handedly determine their fate first by holding a gala with no band. She groaned inwardly.

      “Well, you still have plenty of time to decide.” Lori set her jaw in that stubborn way of hers.

      Gracie crossed her arms, mimicking Lori’s position. Fine, let her friend hope. It wouldn’t do any good, but at least it’d keep the peace for the next few days. Lori would figure it out eventually—when it came to Carter, no meant no. Gracie refused to acknowledge another option.

      She was finished putting her hope in him.

      “Just so you know, ‘It’s a Small World’ is playing in my head right now.” Andy grinned at Carter across the table at the Gumbo Shop. “Who would have thought the woman you’re so torn up about is none other than our Gracie Broussard?”

      Carter glanced over his shoulder, even though he knew there was no way the women could hear them across the noisy restaurant. After Gracie’s obvious lack of interest in eating together, he and Andy gave the girls a head start and requested a table on the other side of the patio. Now the aroma of fresh garlic bread and Cajun cuisine tickled his nostrils, but the weight of seeing Gracie up close did permanent damage to his appetite. He set his fork in his nearly full bowl. “It is pretty weird that she goes to your church. Talk about a coincidence.”

      “Maybe it’s more than that.” Andy sipped from his water glass, then squeezed another slice of lemon over the top. “I wouldn’t assume if I were you.”

      “Point taken.” He pushed his bowl away.

      “Too spicy?”

      “Just not hungry.”

      “Since when did a woman take away your appetite?”

      Carter shrugged with a smile. “Since I grew a conscience.”

      “Even guilty people need to eat.” Andy scooped a spoonful of rice onto his spoon.

      “With all my regrets, if that wasn’t true I’d be a stick.” Man, he should have searched Gracie out over the past years. But what would he say? The proper apology or explanation still failed him. There just weren’t words adequate enough to express his stupidity, his immaturity—sure, he’d been a high school kid at the time, but no one deserved the treatment he’d given Gracie and his family. No one deserved the prank he played or the things he said that night on the pier—the last time they’d spoken before today. Even if there were reasons behind it that she still didn’t know.

      Carter stirred his water glass with his straw. He thought he’d been protecting Gracie when he left. Hindsight, unfortunately, proved that hasty decision had backfired—and pounded the final nail in the coffin of their future.

      “Everyone messes up.”

      “But not everyone stabs their best friend in the back.” Just one of the many sins on his list. He’d had his chance with Gracie, and ruined it. There might never be full recovery from such a blow, but maybe he could stir up enough of their friendship to remind her of the good times, the times he didn’t make her cry—if she’d let him.

      “Gracie’s got a good heart.” Andy wadded his straw wrapper. “I’d give her the benefit of the doubt before you write off any chance of fixing things between you.”

      “Maybe you’re right.” Carter stared into the dark rue of his dinner, memories teasing the ripples in the broth. They’d been a good team, once upon a time. For instance, Gracie loved Oreos, but hated the cream filling. So they’d sit on the tall barstools at the counter in his mom’s kitchen and he’d eat the filling while she dunked the plain cookies in milk. Then there were the days spent riding tubes on the lake, camping with his family, and fishing off the pier. They rarely fought as kids, but when they did, Gracie would win from the sheer logic of her arguments. Carter learned early on that keeping up wasn’t worth the effort.

      But her stubbornness could go both ways. Gracie was the only girl he knew who didn’t mind baiting her own hook—she’d even beaten him in a youth fishing tournament in sixth grade. The girl could accomplish anything she made up her mind to do, including shutting him out now.

      “Did you know she was planning on naming the exhibit after my father?”

      “No, she never mentioned that part, but then she didn’t know I knew you. There’s no use dwelling on the past, man. You’re a different person now.” Andy slurped the last of the gumbo from his spoon and leaned back from the table. “You know that, right?”

      “Most days I believe it.” Carter started to look over his shoulder again but forced himself to face forward. No more looking back, wasn’t that what Andy was trying to tell him?

      “But not today?”

      Carter shook his head.

      Andy sighed. “I’ll get you a carryout box.”

      “You know, it doesn’t matter at this point if Carter comes to the gala or not. There won’t be much of one without any entertainment.” Gracie forced herself to pick her feet up from the floor instead of shuffle. She was trying hard not to have an Eeyore moment—as her mom always used to say when she started a pity party—but it was hard.

      “Don’t worry, Gracie. Something will work out.” Lori shifted her Bible to her other hand and looped her free arm around Gracie’s shoulders. “I still think your idea of asking Andy to get the youth group involved was a great one.”

      “Guess we’ll find out in a little while.” Gracie walked with Lori through the church office corridor toward the kitchen in the gymnasium. She needed caffeine—no, she needed money—and maybe a massage for the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. So far she had a low advertising budget, a nonexistent decorating budget and no band. She hated to ask what else could go wrong, but really—what else could go wrong?

      Lori dropped her Bible and notebook on the counter in the empty gymnasium and turned on the overhead lights. “The kids should be here any minute. You want a root beer? Or Diet Coke?” She moved toward the fridge.

      “Diet Coke.” Gracie sank into one of the folding chairs near the counter and laid her Bible on top of Lori’s. She stared at the creased cover. God had always come through for her before—this time shouldn’t be any different. Still, an urgency pressed on her heart. Or maybe it was dread.

      Lori shut the fridge door with her hip and slid Gracie’s soda across the counter to her. “Think positively. It shouldn’t be too hard to find another band.”

      “A band for what?” Tawny Sinclair, a fellow youth group volunteer, breezed into the gym and headed for the refrigerator, her long brown hair streaming down her back in loose waves. “Any Diet Cokes left?”

      “Two.” Lori rested her elbows on the counter in front of Gracie. “We were talking about the situation Gracie mentioned during Bible study earlier tonight.”

      “Oh, yeah, the penguin thing?” Tawny flipped her