Return To Love. Betsy St. Amant

jeans, not exactly church attire. Gracie sipped from her Diet Coke and studied the girl over the rim of the can, trying not to judge. Tawny had shown up for Bible study, and that was what really mattered. The rest would come in time.

      Though apparently she hadn’t listened all that hard to what was said during group prayer.

      “Yes, the penguin thing. Gracie needs a musician for her gala, ASAP.” Lori turned up her root beer, then wiped her mouth with her hand. “Not to mention some cash for the rest of the budget.”

      “It’ll work out.” Tawny flicked her fingers in the air, dismissing the topic. “So anyway, did you see that new shoe store that opened on the riverfront? Totally adorable.”

      Lori’s face lit. “I did, but haven’t been inside yet. Are they expensive?”

      “Not for me.” Tawny opened her drink can with the aid of one manicured red fingernail and smirked.

      Lori narrowed her eyes.

      “Tawny, what did you think of the women’s class tonight?” Gracie interrupted before whatever thoughts Lori processed could escape. She sent her friend a be nice look. Tawny was still new to the singles group at the church—she seemed to honestly not realize how she came across to others at times, which was another reason why Gracie tried to befriend the girl. Everyone else seemed content to just gossip about her wardrobe choices and flirty behavior.

      “It was okay, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose.

      “I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you getting involved, I know that’s never easy in a new church.”

      “Right. Thanks.” Tawny tucked her leopard print purse out of sight under the row of cabinets. “I guess we better get the snacks set out for the youth, huh?”

      “They’d find them even if we hid them.” Lori washed her hands at the sink, then pulled a bulk package of cream-filled cookies from under the counter and began lining them on a tray. “They’re like junk-food magnets. Or vacuum cleaners.”

      Gracie set out the paper cups and two-liters of various sodas. “I saw you helping them clean up last week.” She snorted. “If they were vacuums, you were an industrial-strength machine.”

      “Whatever.” Lori tossed a broken cookie at Gracie, who caught it just as the gymnasium doors opened with a bang. Several of the youth hustled inside, laughing and shoving each other. Andy followed close behind, Carter on his heels toting a black guitar case.

      The cookie slipped from Gracie’s fingers and crumbled on the counter. With all her worries about the gala budget, she’d forgotten about Carter’s performance tonight. But there was no putting it out of her mind anymore—there he was, dressed in worn jeans with shredded knees and a black button-down shirt. His usually rumpled, curly hair was gelled, and he’d shaved yesterday’s dark stubble from his cheeks.

      “Breathe,” Lori mumbled, nudging Gracie with her hip as she stowed the cookie bag in the cabinet. She waved and smiled at Andy and Carter, who were moving toward the makeshift stage set up near the front of the gym.

      Gracie straightened her shoulders and turned away from the men. “Where are the napkins?” She could do this. She’d just stay busy in the kitchen during Carter’s performance, then focus her attention after the show on the youth and on talking to Andy about fund-raising. No problem.

      “Right here.” Tawny spun around from ripping open a bag of chips and handed over the pile of napkins.

      Gracie took them from her outstretched hand, then realized Tawny’s gaze had locked on something over her shoulder. She turned to see Carter pulling his guitar from his case and strumming his pick over the strings. The soft melody echoed across the gym, carrying with it a sudden wave of memories.

      Tawny’s breath caught and a slow, cat-like grin eased over her features. “Who’s the new guy?”

      Chapter Four

      Carter wiped a damp palm down the leg of his favorite jeans and reached to adjust his guitar strap. He just fixed it minutes ago, and it hadn’t so much as inched along his shoulder, but he had to do something with his hands while Andy introduced him.

      He risked a peek at the rows of teenagers sitting in folding chairs, arranged in front of the makeshift stage composed of wooden boards and a few screws. The amp and speakers were wired up, thanks to the church’s tech guy, and they lined the edges of the gymnasium’s platform exactly as he requested for optimal sound.

      Gracie hadn’t joined the crowd on the floor. She was avoiding him, it was evident in her tense shoulders and averted eyes—and the way she kept rearranging what looked to be a perfectly suitable display of snacks. Lori and another brunette had taken seats toward the middle of the rows of teenagers, probably prepared to do crowd control if they grew rowdy. An empty seat remained on Lori’s right. Would Gracie join them later? Carter could only hope.

      He flipped his favorite guitar pick between his fingers as he waited for Andy to finish making announcements, but before he could stop it, his traitorous gaze flitted back to Gracie. She was wiping crumbs off the counter into her hand. Crumbs? They hadn’t even eaten yet. Come on, Gracie, give me a chance here. His heartbeat quickened and he sent a quick prayer heavenward for strength. He had to show Gracie who he’d become—or she’d never forgive him.

      Andy’s voice booming across the gym jerked Carter back to reality.

      “So be sure to look for the Six Flags sign-up sheet on the bulletin board in the office. And now, a man who really needs no further introduction, Mr. Carter Alexander!” Andy turned toward Carter and began to applaud. A few of the teens, mostly girls, jumped to their feet and clapped wildly.

      Carter forced a smile to his face and thoughts of Gracie from his mind as he clamored up the stage and adjusted the stand to his level. “Hey, guys.” His voice echoed louder than he meant and he eased off the microphone an inch. “How are we doing tonight?”

      A few of the kids yelled back, some jumping up and down, others standing. A few boys in the back sat with arms crossed and scowls tattooed across their faces. Tough crowd. Carter fought another round of nerves. So what if not everyone here loved him? He wasn’t here for his own fame anymore—thankfully, those days were long over.

      “Play ‘Lucky Lady’!” A guy with dreads on the front row called above the din. He grinned around a lip piercing.

      Carter strummed his pick over the guitar strings. “Lucky Lady” was one of Cajun Friday’s first big hits—unfortunately, the lyrics weren’t exactly appropriate for a church crowd. “Sorry, no can do. What about ‘Peace To You’?” Another Cajun Friday hit, but one Carter had tweaked after the band’s break-up to offer new inspirational meaning.

      The crowd cheered. Carter felt his muscles relax as he began the first bars of the familiar tune.

      When the night is long and the music fades,

      When all hope is gone when I walk away,

      I wish peace to you…peace to you…

      A few of the girls in the middle of the audience began to sway, arms around each other’s shoulders. A lighter flicked on toward the back of the crowd, and Andy quickly moved to retrieve it, whispering in the boy’s ear before pocketing the evidence with a stern expression.

      Carter fought a grin as he continued to sing. Soon the sensation of being back on stage enveloped him with its familiar, welcome presence, and the nervousness fled away. He loosened up after the first verse, rocking out the chorus.

      Peace to you, when nothing else is true.

      Peace to you, when your world is black and blue.

      I wish peace to you, the kind I know by heart…

      Can we ever just go back to start?

      The lyrics thumped a sudden, painful reminder of Gracie. The music, think of the music—not the lyrics. His fingers slipped