He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I’m sorry, too, that you didn’t think you could trust us.” A heavy sigh laden with regret carried through the line. “Son, I need to go talk to your father.”
“He’s probably really mad, huh?”
Mom released a short huff of humorless laughter. “No, if he was mad, he’d be spouting.”
That was true. Dad was never short of words when he was angry. But when he was hurt? That’s when he clammed up. Steven swallowed a knot of agony. “Please tell him I’m sorry I disappointed him. I’ll call again tomorrow, okay?”
Back at the house he dressed for bed and flopped onto the mattress. All night he wrestled with God, alternately sleeping and praying. He awakened early Sunday and made use of his brand-new tub. But not even a steady flow of hot water over his aching muscles erased the heavy cloak of regret that had fallen over him when Anna—Grace drove off with Briley yesterday. He’d messed things up. He’d messed things up badly. But how to fix it?
He turned the squeaky spigots, dried off while steam formed a murky cloud around him, and then dressed for service even though the last thing he felt like doing was worshiping. But sometimes the thing a man least wanted to do was the best thing for him. So he plopped his hat over his freshly washed hair, climbed into his pickup, and made the drive to town.
Other vehicles, including Abigail Zimmerman’s, were already in the lot. His chest pinched at the sight of the Zimmerman sedan. Had Anna—Grace come, or had she stayed out at the farm to hide? He hoped she’d come. Even if she was still angry, even if she turned up her nose and ignored him, he still wanted to see her.
I love her, God. He sent up the brief proclamation as he crossed the yard to the men’s door. He knew God believed him. Now if he could only convince Anna—Grace he meant it.
He sat on the back bench next to Briley, who surprised him with his presence. He sang the hymns, recited the scriptures, knelt to pray, and sat attentively during the sermon, but afterward he couldn’t recall what he’d sung, said, or heard. The entire time his thoughts were on Anna—Grace, who sat in the back with her great aunt. Would she speak to him when the service was over?
Afterward he waited in the yard close to the women’s door for her. When she stepped out, her eyes met his—almost as if his gaze had lassoed her. And even though she hesitated for a moment, she walked toward him instead of away. She looked so sweet with her cap in place, her coat buttoned to the throat, and her hands locked behind her. Love swelled up, and he said the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m sorry.”
A sad smile curved her lips. “Me, too.”
Hope roared through him. Fellowship members milled on the lawn, close enough to overhear if they wanted to, but he had to ask. “Then you aren’t mad at me anymore?”
A tiny sigh escaped her. “I’m not sure I was ever mad, Steven. I was hurt and confused.” She squinted against a sunbeam that broke through the clouds. “I still am.”
He ducked his head. “I understand. You have reason to be hurt and confused.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I wrote you a letter. Before I give it to you, I need to ask what you’ve decided to do. Are you going to teach at the school here?”
“I want to.” The desire writhed within him. All night he’d begged God to drive the want from him if he wasn’t meant to pursue it, but it was still there. “I don’t know if they’ll let me, but I’m going to talk to Clete about it again tomorrow. Tell him straight out that I want to teach.”
She gazed into his face for several seconds, her expression unreadable. Then she gave a little nod and pushed the paper at him. “Read this when you get to your house. If you want to talk to me about it, I’m sure Aunt Abigail won’t mind you coming to the house this evening.”
He gripped the paper, curiosity burning.
She started to move away, and then she turned back with a winsome look on her heart-shaped face. “And, Steven? Whatever happens, even if it’s hard, I believe it will be what’s best. For both of us.”
He watched her walk beneath the slanting rays of the sun to the Zimmerman’s vehicle. She climbed in, turned her face to the glass, and she kept her sweet smile aimed at him until Alexa turned a corner that carried her from sight.
Briley
When lunch, which took place at Clete and Tanya’s, was over, Briley hugged Alexa, Anna—Grace, and Mrs. Z, shook hands with the men, and thanked Tanya, Sandra, and Shelley for their hospitality during his stay in Arborville. Then he folded himself behind the wheel of his sports car, gave a wave that was returned by more than a dozen enthusiastic hands, and took off up the road.
It was Sunday, but Len would be at his workplace. The man practically lived in his cubby at the Real Scoop’s suite of offices. Len really needed a life outside of the tabloid, and when Briley returned to Chicago he’d sit down and tell his boss how to find it. In the meantime he pulled out his cell phone and pushed the button for Len’s number. Within seconds Len’s gruff “hello” sounded in Briley’s Bluetooth.
“Len, it’s Briley. I’m on my way.”
“Good! Good! I’ve saved half of the front page of next Saturday’s edition for your story.”
Briley sent up a silent prayer, double-fisted the steering wheel, and took the plunge. “About the story … I wanna kill it.”
Len’s guffaw blasted. “We must have a bad connection. I thought you said you wanted to kill the story.”
“No, you heard me correctly.”
“Whaddaya mean, you want to kill the story?” Right now Len was probably pulling out the few tufts of hair left on his head.
“Look, Len, I just think we need to …” Briley smiled. “Give ’em a little grace.”
Several seconds of silence reigned, and then Len’s fury exploded. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
Briley chuckled. “Yeah, I probably have.” But he’d found his heart. And that was more important. “Listen, I’ve got another idea—something that could turn into a long-term serial and keep the readers coming back for more.” And wouldn’t Nicci K love having her journey to become the next country-western star chronicled? “But before I tell you about it, I have to do something. Go see someone. So I’m gonna use a couple of days of leave, okay?”
Len’s disgusted snort carried clearly to Briley’s ear. “Fine. Whatever. Go. But when you get back here, your idea better be good, because—” The signal faded, rescuing Briley from having to listen to the rest of his boss’s wrath.
He unhooked his Bluetooth and tossed it onto the passenger seat, draped his wrist over the steering wheel, and settled in for the drive. It would be a long one, a long time coming, but he’d never anticipated a journey more than the one waiting for him now.
He ate meals from snack bars at convenience stores when he stopped to fill the tank with gas so he wouldn’t waste time waiting for an order from a café, and he drove straight through the night. He reached the outskirts of Chicago as the sky bloomed as rosy as Alexa’s cheeks when he teased her, and he smiled, envisioning the young woman who’d become his surrogate little sister. He drove through the early morning shadows, over streets where he used to skateboard, feelings of déjà vu making his flesh tingle.
Even though years had passed—a lifetime had passed—he found Covington Court as easily as if he’d visited it just yesterday. At the end of the cul-de-sac, the little ranch-style house that had provided his truest sense of home waited. The oak tree in the front yard still stood, taller than he remembered and spreading its empty branches wider, but the rope swing where he’d sent younger foster siblings soaring skyward was gone.
His heart lurched. Would she be gone, too? After all, she’d been old then—as old as Mrs. Z or maybe even older—and an entire decade had slipped by. Let her be here. The plea formed, a prayer really, and peace eased over him. If she wasn’t here, he’d find her.
He pulled into the drive and shut off the engi
ne. For a few minutes he sat and gazed at the dent in the white siding where he’d hit it with a baseball, the black shutters he’d given a fresh coat of paint the year before he aged out of the system, the wrought-iron porch posts and railings that had served as a makeshift jungle gym. Memories paraded through his mind so quickly that one barely had time to form before another replaced it.
Behind the picture window a movement caught his attention—the frothy curtain being lifted at the hem. A yellow-and-white whiskered face peered out. A grin grew on his cheeks without effort. She was still here. The cat proved it. She loved cats almost as much as she loved kids—especially stray ones.
Eagerness shot through him, and he smacked the car door open and strode up the cracked sidewalk, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He gave one leap onto the concrete porch, scaring the cat from its spot at the window. Pressing his finger to the doorbell, he sucked in a breath and held it.
Less than three seconds later the door opened, and there she stood in a stretchy purple pantsuit, older, more slope-shouldered, short gray curls forming little squiggles all over her head. Her gaze met his, and a smile of pure joy broke across her face.
“Briley Ray!” She threw her arms wide as the yellow-and-white cat shot out the door, between Briley’s feet, and across the yard. “You’ve come home!”
His held breath whooshed out on a note of happy laughter. He scooped her off her feet and clung hard. “Yes, ma’am, I have. I’ve truly come Home.”
Filling:
4 c. peaches, peeled and sliced
⅔ c. sugar
2 T. flour
½ t. lemon juice
¼ t. cinnamon
¼ c. butter, cut into small cubes
1 9″ unbaked deep-dish pie shell
Streusel:
½ c. brown sugar
½ t. cinnamon or apple pie spice
¼ c. flour
3 T. cold butter
½ c. coarsely chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
To make the streusel, mix the brown sugar, spice, and flour. Cut the butter into the mixture until it forms crumbles. Stir in the pecans. Sprinkle a third of the mixture into the bottom of the pie shell.
To make the filling, combine the peaches, sugar, flour, lemon juice, and cinnamon and pour into the pie shell over the streusel. Dot the peaches with the cubes of butter. Sprinkle the remaining streusel evenly over the peaches.
Bake for 45–50 minutes, until the syrupy topping boils in heavy bubbles that don’t burst. Serve warm with or without fresh whipped cream or ice cream.
Readers Guide
1. Steven harbors a desire that began growing inside of him when he was still a child. His brother’s discouraging words and the traditional roles of his faith community made him squelch the desire, which led to an underlying sense of dissatisfaction. How do we know when our desires are God-planted rather than self-chosen? How can we find the courage to follow God’s will when those around us don’t seem to understand or approve?
2. Alexa opened the B and B as a means of ministry, but at times she struggled with opening her doors to those who needed a place of refuge. Were her reasons for hesitation valid? How would you have advised Alexa?
3. Throughout the story Briley thinks of Aunt Myrt and reflects on different words of wisdom she imparted. Why did Aunt Myrt leave such an impression on Briley? Do you have an “Aunt Myrt” in your life who impacted you? How can you be “Aunt Myrt” to people in your life?
4. Anna—Grace goes to Arborville to “explore” whether or not she can be at ease in the town where her birth parents reside. Since she doesn’t want to read the letters that would divulge their identities, is her plan wise or unwise? Why? If you were Anna—Grace’s adoptive parents, how would you feel about her living so near her birth family? If you were Anna—Grace’s birth parents, how would you feel being so near her and unable to claim her as yours?
5. Briley grew up feeling as if no one really cared about him, and it colored his opinion of himself. He developed a cocky veneer to hide his true feelings of insignificance and set a goal of becoming famous within his vocation to prove himself worthy to those who had rejected him. Have you ever set out to prove someone wrong in their opinion of you? If you were successful, did it bring you satisfaction? Whose opinion is the best one to value—man’s or God’s? Why?
6. Unlike the other young people in the story who wanted to work at specific jobs, Anna—Grace wanted to be a wife and mother more than anything. She’s caught up in her plans to marry Steven and build a family with him. Then when she discovers he wants something other than what she’d envisioned, her security crumbles. Were Anna—Grace’s feelings of betrayal understandable, or should she have been more supportive? Has someone you trusted ever surprised you with an unexpected proclamation? How did you handle it?
7. Since Briley didn’t have a father who was loving and involved in his life, he has difficulty believing God the Father could care about him. Briley finds himself drawn to Paul Aldrich and Danny, and he watches the relationship between father and son. How does Paul, without being aware of it, model Father-God’s attributes? What examples, besides Paul, did God place in Briley’s pathway to help point him toward the care of a loving heavenly Father?
8. Alexa tells Briley that being “thrown away” was a good thing because she was found by a loving mother. Likewise, Briley reasoned he wouldn’t have met Aunt Myrt if his mother hadn’t abandoned him. Has God redeemed hurtful moments in your life and made them work for your good?
Acknowledgments
I deeply appreciate the following …
Mom and Daddy, who modeled faith and led me toward a relationship with the Father.
Don, who handles the mundane so I can apply my fingers to the keyboard.
Kristian, Kaitlyn, and Kamryn, who humble me and challenge me and give me reasons to smile.
Judy Miller, who brainstormed with me and ignited my enthusiasm for this story.
The Posse, who consistently offer prayers, encouragement, or humor right when I need it.
The FSBC choir, who cheer me on when my spirit is lagging.
Shannon and the team at WaterBrook, who partner with me and make the stories shine.
My Father-God, who rejoices over me with singing and gives me grace beyond all deserving. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.
She locked up her secrets, but now they must be opened.
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Read an excerpt from this book
and more at WaterBrookMultnomah.com!
Also Available from Kim Vogel Sawyer
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When Grace Sings Page 34
