by Leah Atwood
COME TO ME AGAIN
Come to Me Book Three
Leah Atwood
Copyright © 2015 by Leah Atwood
Cover Design © Covers by Ramona
Cover Image © PeopleImages
Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Note from Leah
Other Available Titles
Chapter 1
“I’m sorry, sir, but your card was declined.” The bubbly girl behind the register gave Dominic Sellers a sympathetic smile and returned his credit card. “Would you like to use an alternative form of payment?”
Dominic took the rectangular-shaped piece of useless plastic and shoved it into the empty slot of his worn leather wallet. He stared at the two bags of groceries sitting on the bag carousel and pointed to the one on the left. “Give me that bag for now. I’ll come back later for the rest.”
“Not a problem at all.” The cashier—Kimmie, if the name on her badge was correct—began the task of removing the items to rescan them.
“And the flowers.” He would skip lunch if needed to account for the extra cost—some things were more important, like seeing Nana smile.
“Sure thing.”
As she removed each item from the second bag, she waved it over the scanner and voided the amount from the register. “Your total is thirty-eight dollars and five cents.”
“Here you go.” Dominic held out two twenties, the last of the bills in his wallet. Shame and frustration gripped him. One day he wouldn’t have to worry if his credit card was maxed out—he wouldn’t even need them.
“Add the second bag back in. I’ll cover the rest.”
Dominic’s blood went cold. He’d know that voice anywhere. Deliberately, he made no move to turn around. “As I said, I’ll take the single bag.”
Kimmie lost her smile. A bewildered expression took over her features. She tilted her head and her mouth curled. Her fingers inched toward the money he held out, but she appeared hesitant to accept it. She darted a glance at the person behind Dominic, and then back to him. “Are you sure? Mama always told me to accept an act of kindness because it’s a blessing for the other person.”
“Positive.”
Half-smiling now, Kimmie took his money and laid it on the register while she moved the voided items to a basket marked Return to Stock. Once she finished, she tapped a few keys, and the register door popped open. “One dollar and ninety-five cents is your change,” she said, handing him the money.
“Thank you.” Dominic crumpled the money and, eager to escape, shoved it in his pocket. As if the decline of his card wasn’t bad enough, there had to be a witness.
Not just any witness, but her. The worst possible person to see what happened.
“And thank you for shopping at Lenny’s Fresh Mart, your hometown grocery.” Kimmie lifted the flowers from the bag carousel and gave them to him. “Have a wonderful afternoon.”
Scooping the brown paper bag off the stand, Dominic muttered a reply. He didn’t mean to be rude, especially when the cashier had been so friendly, but his sole focus was exiting as quickly as possible.
Of all places in Dillonton—all right, it was a small town—why did she have to be there, in the exact location with him, at his moment of sheer humiliation? The embarrassment wouldn’t have been nearly as severe if it had been anyone but her who witnessed the scene. Why was she even there? Last he’d heard, she’d left the small coastal Carolina town and was living in a posh apartment in Washington, D.C.
Shoulders squared, he walked to his truck, an older model Ford 150 that had once been a chestnut brown, but the paint had long since faded to a light tan with a hint of pink. Yes, pink. His hand was on the passenger door handle when she called him from a distance.
“Dominic, wait up.”
He froze, his fingers still curled around the metal. All the good manners in the world couldn’t make him turn around and face her. He didn’t trust what he might say. Pulling the handle, he opened the door and placed the groceries and flowers on the bench seat. Five seconds passed. He took a deep breath and turned around.
“Maisy.” No salutations, no pleasantries, only a basic acknowledgment of her presence. His arms crossed over his chest.
“You weren’t even going to say ‘hi’ to me?” Maisy looked at him from under long eyelashes that framed amber-colored eyes. Not much had changed in her appearance during the last four years. Waves of brown hair had streaks of blonde. Her skin was naturally tan and vibrant. There was something different though, but he couldn’t place what it was.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”
“You never were a good liar.” She projected a nervous laugh that did little to fill the uncomfortable air between them. “Your eyes are too expressive.”
He made a point of lowering his sunglasses from their resting place on top his head. Too bad he hadn’t done so before he left the store. “Would you prefer the truth that I’d rather not acknowledge you?”
Maisy winced, and immediate regret swamped Dominic. His mom hadn’t taught him much of anything that was useful, but she’d insisted that her son know and practice good manners—even if she didn’t practice what she preached.
“You’ve changed, Dominic.” Golden specks of sadness flashed in Maisy’s eyes. “I never thought you could be so cold.”
“I’m sorry.” He shifted his stance. “That was uncalled for.”
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, a designer brand, no doubt. “It’s been four years. Can’t we at least be civil?”
“Yeah, sure.” He kicked a loose piece of gravel.
“How long are you in town for?”
“Just until Friday.” The original plan was to leave Thursday, but he wasn’t about to tell her he was dead broke and wouldn’t have gas money for a return trip until his paycheck hit Friday morning.
“Visiting Nana?” Her voice wavered with uncertainty and concern.
“Yeah.” Pretty sure one-word answers didn’t count toward civility, he added, “She’s not doing so well.”
“I know. Roxy and I talked the other day.”
His arms dropped to his sides. “You talked to my sister?”
“We, um, ran into each other at the store last week.”
He clenched his jaw. She wasn’t the only one who could read the truth. He knew from the casual way she’d said ‘Roxy’ that a friendship
existed between his sister and ex-fiancé. “You’ve never been a very good liar, either.”
“Better than you think,” she mumbled.
At least that’s what he thought she said. Whatever. He’d have to have a little chat with Roxy later.
“What does Daddy Dear think of your friendship with her?” Oh yeah, Mom wouldn’t be pleased with his behavior, but the feeling would be mutual. They had a long way to go before the score was even when it came to disappointment.
“My father doesn’t dictate my friendships.”
He snorted. “Only who you marry, then?”
“I’ve always wondered what would happen when we saw each other again, and now I know.” Was that regret that flickered over her eyes? She slowly ran a hand through her highlighted hair. “Maybe one day you’ll stop hating me.”
“You made your choice.” The words were dull, without the sharp edge he’d been using. Tired from the emotional onslaught that accompanied seeing her for the first time since she’d walked out on him, he sought escape. He turned to his side, blocking her from his sight and circled to the driver’s side of his truck.
Once in the truck, he turned the key in the ignition switch and looked in the mirrors. He sucked in a quick breath when he saw Maisy standing by a car, staring his way. Her shoulders slumped, but he couldn’t imagine he’d been the one to cause that. On the other hand, maybe he had been too hard on her. After all, their history was four years old.
No, he had to ignore the nudge of conscience. The bitterness of her rejection flooded his entire being. She hadn’t just left him. She’d cast him out because he wasn’t good enough.
Backing out of his spot, he was careful not to look in her direction again. Realistically, he knew he would see her again one day, but he’d hoped that time would come after he’d succeeded. Not when he was barely scraping by and having his credit card declined at the grocery store.
But he would prosper, even if that success came from a means other than his dream. One day he’d break free from the chains. He would be somebody. He would be enough.
At the edge of Lenny’s parking lot was an intersection with several sets of yellow flashing traffic lights strung above the street. He looked to his left, then his right, and finally across the street. No other cars were coming so he made a right turn onto the main road. He’d stop by Roxy’s first, drop off his things, and then go visit Nana.
Roxy lived on the outskirts of Dillonton, in a small trailer off a dirt road. It wasn’t much to look at but was steps above the dumps they’d lived in as children. She kept it clean and tidy, and despite the small space, it felt more like home than anything he’d ever known.
The first things he saw when he drove up were the toys in the yard—a homemade see-saw he’d crafted last year for Daryl’s birthday and a few plastic push toys including a plastic toy mower that made bubbles. Lizzie and Daryl would be in school, but he’d see his niece and nephew when he returned from Sumner’s, the assisted living home where Nana lived. The baby should be home with Roxy though, and that made him smile. He’d only seen Hallie, his youngest niece, twice in her six months of life.
Leaving the flowers in the truck, he slid an arm under the paper bag and lifted it.
Roxy came out her front door and met him halfway, throwing her arms around him. “Glad you made it, little brother.”
His irritation with her fled. This was Roxy, who’d been there for him through thick and thin, the one person other than Nana whom he’d always been able to depend on. “I’m sorry I missed Christmas. The money just wasn’t there to make the trip.”
“I know.” Backing away, Roxy smiled. “You’re here now, and we’ll make the most of it. How long are you staying?”
“A few days. Can’t afford more time away than that.” He wasn’t going to tell her he had no choice except to stay until his deposit showed up in his account. Roxy had enough worries of her own. “I brought you a few things.” He lifted the bag to show her.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She took the bag and peeked inside. Her eyes widened. “But I’m glad you did. You’re a lifesaver, Dominic. How’d you know what I needed?”
“Took a guess.” He shrugged. Glancing around, he noticed his brother-in-law’s rig was gone. “Where’s Jesse?”
“He left on a cross-country trip this morning. The call came right after yours to tell me you were coming. Since you would be here for part of his absence, he felt comfortable accepting the job.” She switched the bag to the other arm. “It was such a God thing.”
A what? He shifted his balance, uncomfortable with God talk. Neither he nor Roxy had ever been religious. Life had jaded them at too young of an age. “I’m glad he found some work.”
“Me too, but I’ve learned God will always provide.” She waved toward the door. “Come on in. Hallie should be awake soon. She’s starting to roll over now.” Roxy beamed.
The tart smell of vinegar-based barbecue reached his nostrils. “Is that what I think it is?”
Roxy nodded. “I put a pork roast in the slow cooker this morning, just for you. In a few hours, it will be ready to pull and top with some coleslaw, which I also made.”
“You are the best sister in the world.”
Laughing, Roxy set down the bag. “Did you eat lunch yet? I can make you a PB and J or grilled cheese.”
Growls rumbled from his stomach, reminding him he’d spent the last of his money on groceries for Roxy and flowers for Nana. “Grilled cheese, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Have a seat. Let me peek in on Hallie, and I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t sit, choosing instead to unpack the groceries. A gallon of two percent milk and a pack of diapers took up the most space. The milk jug was wrapped in a separate plastic bag with the handles tied. Short nails and wide fingers made undoing the knot nearly impossible. Before he wasted any more time, he ripped a hole in the plastic and removed the container. Placing it in the fridge, he became dismayed by how little food was on the shelves.
Were finances even worse than Roxy had let on? He wished he could do more, but he was strapped as well.
Roxy returned. “She’s still sleeping.”
“How bad is it, Rox?” His hand still held the cereal box he was about to put away.
“What do you mean?” She looked away, refusing to make eye contact.
He took a deep breath and released the cereal. A single step put him next to the counter, and he leaned against the Formica, his arms crossed. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“Uh oh.” Roxy laughed, a forced chuckle too unnatural to produce any humor. She pulled an ancient sandwich press out of a cabinet, plugged it in then turned and mirrored his stance. “What about?”
“Have you heard of Bryce Landry?”
“Who hasn’t?” Her eyebrows furrowed, silently asking, What does this have to do with anything?
Dominic licked his lips, half-afraid to answer for fear of jinxing the outcome. “My agent got word Bryce is looking for a replacement guitarist.”
“This could be it, your big break.” Her eyes brightened, and she reached out and grabbed his arms. “You’re going for it, right?”
“Larry sent in a demo.”
A quick grin transformed Roxy, taking away the appearance of added years. “My little brother, a famous musician. I’m so proud of you.”
Edging away, he put some space between them. “It’s still a long shot.”
“But there’s hope. You deserve it.”
The vinyl-covered chair squeaked when he sat down. “I’ve decided if I don’t get it, then I’m moving back here.”
Stopping what she was doing, Roxy spun around. “What?”
The loud, unexpected screech hurt his ears. “It’s time to face reality, and I’m not going to work in a dead-end job my whole life. I need something more.”
“All you’ve ever wanted was to play music. You can’t give up on your dream.” A look of sad curiosity flickered in her eyes. “What
brought on this idea?”
“I’m not getting any younger.” He sighed. “Responsibilities change. If I come back here, I can look for a better paying job—help out until you and Jesse are back on your feet.”
“Absolutely not. You will not give up your dream on my account.” She wagged a nail with chipped polish at him. “It's true that times are tough right now, but they’re picking up. Jesse and I will be fine. Besides, although I appreciate your sentiment, you’re not responsible for me.”
“Just because you’re married, doesn’t mean you stopped being my sister or that I can’t still help.” Crooking his smallest finger, he grinned. “Pinky promise, remember? We said we’d always look out for each other.”
Roxy laughed. “We were ten and thirteen.”
“Still counts.”
“Which is why you’re not quitting for my sake.” She narrowed her eyes. “Listen to me—this is me looking out for you. Follow your heart, the passion that calls you to keep trying. You won’t be happy otherwise.”
“I’ll give it thought, but my mind is pretty much decided.”
“But is your heart?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “I’ll be praying for you.”
There she went to that religious talk again. He’d ask about it, but the whole idea made him uncomfortable. “Have you heard from Mom?”
Yeah, Dominic, that was smart. Ignore one awkward topic and jump into an equally unpleasant one.
Roxy went to the refrigerator and retrieved a stick of butter and a slice of cheese. “Last Tuesday. She was drunk again, and I think high on something, so we didn’t talk long.”
“Not surprising.” It was the reason he hadn’t seen her in two years and avoided her calls. “She still with the same boyfriend?”
“No, but I wish she were.” She buttered two slices of bread, put the cheese between them, then lifted the handle of the small appliance and squished the sandwich into it. “In his own way, he was good for her.”
“If you say so.” Stretching his arms in front of him, he fiddled with the salt shaker. “Speaking of my favorite people, is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Huh?” Her gaze met his, and her eyes widened. “Ohhhh.”
