The Prodigal Comes Home. Kathryn Springer

      Zoey took a deep breath. “I’d rather tell you about the last six months.”

      A look of understanding dawned and tears sprang into Liz’s eyes. “You’re a believer now, aren’t you?”

      “I’ve been a believer a long time,” Zoey said softly. “Now, I would have to say that I’m a…follower.”

      “Delia Peake is here to see you, Pastor.” Cheryl Mullins, the part-time church secretary, looked up as Matt walked in. “She wanted to wait in your office.”

      “And you didn’t want to tell her no.” Matt grinned.

      “I’d rather sharpen a pencil with my teeth.”

      “Ouch.”

      “Exactly.” Cheryl patted her very pregnant belly. “I’m a month from my due date and the doctor told me to avoid stress.”

      “Then you made the right decision.” Matt glanced at the clock on the wall. He usually left the church at four, but experience had taught him that pastors didn’t hold to regular hours. He was on call 24/7.

      And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

      “You don’t have to stick around, Cheryl. I can lock up when I leave.”

      His secretary didn’t bother to hide her relief. “Great.

      I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      As Matt walked down the narrow hallway, he heard the muffled tap tap tap of Delia’s walking cane against the faded Berber carpet in his office.

      “Hello, Mrs. Peake.”

      She had bypassed a comfortable chair by the window and commandeered the one behind the desk. His desk.

      Matt’s lips twitched as he pulled up another chair.

      “Pastor Wilde.” From the first time they’d met, Delia insisted on addressing him more formally than the rest of his congregation, most of whom called him by his first name. “How is Liz?”

      It had become a common question over the past few weeks, given the fact that Matt was not only Liz’s pastor, but also her closest neighbor. “She seems to be doing a little better.”

      Especially now.

      For most of the day, Matt had found his thoughts drifting back to Zoey. Wondering how she and Liz were doing. What they were talking about. When one of the men in his congregation had called and asked for some insight on a passage of scripture, Matt had jumped at the chance to focus his attention on something else. And it didn’t hurt that their discussion had taken place while they split a cord of firewood.

      After Matt was hired, he made sure people knew he wanted to see them for more than an hour on Sunday mornings. He wanted the majority of his ministry to take place outside the walls of the church.

      Delia pursed her lips. “When I called her yesterday, Liz wasn’t in a very talkative mood.”

      “I’m sure she was just tired.” Matt linked his hands behind his head. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Peake?”

      The question didn’t bring about the results he’d hoped for—nudging Delia back on track.

      “She’s a stubborn woman, our Liz. When I visited her at the hospital last week, she mentioned that she’s still planning to direct the Easter cantata next month.” Delia shook her head. “Of course I told her that she wouldn’t be in any shape to take on that responsibility this year.”

      “Of course you did.” Matt tried not to wince. He had deliberately avoided bringing up the subject of the cantata to Liz, knowing that she didn’t need anything else to worry about.

      “Well, someone has to make her listen to reason.” Delia agreed, happy to have accepted the role. “There isn’t a lot of time to pull it together. Some people think we should simply cancel it this year.”

      Judging from her tone, it was clear she was one of them.

      “Let’s see what the Lord has to say before we make a decision,” Matt suggested mildly. “Someone else might step forward and volunteer to take Liz’s place this year.”

      Delia harrumphed. “I suppose that could happen.”

      “I’ll talk to Liz when the time is right.” Matt pressed down on the last word, hoping to get his point across. “We have at least a week before a final decision needs to be made. By that time, Liz should have a better idea whether or not she feels up to directing the cantata.”

      At the moment, Matt couldn’t think of anyone more capable of organizing the special service that Church of the Pines held every Easter, but it was a lot of work and he didn’t want to jeopardize Liz’s recovery. Still, Matt knew her well enough to know that if she were pushed to make a decision, she would say “yes” simply to relieve him of the burden of having to find someone else.

      “You can count on me keeping a close eye on her.” Delia’s pink-tipped walking cane struck the floor, punctuating the statement like an exclamation point. “I’m planning to stop by her place for a visit every day until she can get out and about.”

      For some reason, the thought of Delia and Zoey coming face to face unsettled him. The older woman had good intentions, but not many people saw them, hidden as they were behind a rather formidable personality. The wave of protectiveness that crashed over Matt surprised him. Especially given the fact that Zoey had let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she could take care of herself.

      He hesitated. “I’m sure Liz would appreciate the thought, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”

      “What do you mean?”

      The sudden gleam of interest in the woman’s eyes made Matt regret bringing it up.

      “She has family staying with her now.”

      “Family.” Delia brightened. “Paul and Sara came back from Africa for a visit? I’m sure Liz is thrilled. They haven’t been back since Jonathan’s funeral.”

      “It’s not her son. Her granddaughter, Zoey, is going to stay with Liz for awhile.”

      Delia’s eyes bulged. “Zoey Decker is here? In Mirror Lake? Staying with Liz?”

      “Yes, to all three questions.” Matt tipped his head, puzzled by the strange reaction. “Do you…know Zoey?”

      Delia’s expression turned as bleak as a January morning.

      “Unfortunately, everyone in Mirror Lake knows Zoey Decker.”

      “Will you set the table for three, please, sweetheart?”

      The simple endearment warmed Zoey’s heart, especially when it came on the heels of a lengthy conversation in which she’d condensed the ups and downs of the last ten years. And there’d definitely been more downs than ups.

      The tea in their cups had cooled while she talked and Gran had listened. Zoey thought that telling her story would have once again left her feeling burdened by the past. Instead, she felt curiously relieved. Lighthearted.

      Gran had forgiven her for the mistakes she’d made—and the ones she’d compounded by separating herself from her family. Zoey could see it in her eyes. It occurred to her that it had been there all along. From the moment she’d arrived.

      And maybe, although Zoey could barely wrap her mind around it, even before.

      If only she were finding it as easy to forgive herself.

      She pulled a wooden chair out from the table, a gentle reminder to Gran that she was in charge of kitchen duty.

      “You’re having company for supper tonight?” Zoey asked as she zeroed in on one of the kitchen cabinets and opened the door. A set of powder-blue stoneware dishes was stacked neatly on the other side, the way she remembered. Strange how