The Demise

by Diane Moody

  That same night, long after Julie and Matt had left, Jim stopped by to pick up the broken pieces of her heart. “I’ve waited all these years,” he’d said, kneeling beside her. “You’re free now, Donella. Peter’s gone, and you’re finally free. Marry me, and make me the happiest man in the world. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life.”

  They’d married in a small chapel on their way to the airport.

  Now, as the music played on under the Tuscan sky, Donella took a deep breath and relaxed, laying her head on her husband’s shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her cheek.

  “We’re together now, happily in love as husband and wife. We’re wealthy. What more could you ask for?”

  “Not a thing, Jim. Not a thing.”

  Thanks for reading Diane’s book. Please take a moment and post a review by clicking HERE.

  For a Preview of her other novels, click HERE

  For your reading pleasure, we’ve included the prologue and first chapter of the best-selling novel, The Runaway Pastor’s Wife after the Author’s page below.

  Acknowledgments

  To my readers . . . and to all those who take the time to write me, share my books in their book clubs, and keep asking for more. Thank you for joining me on these journeys and making my work so much fun!

  A thousand thanks to my stellar team of proofreaders: Sally Wilson, Cyndi Hollman, and Glenn Hale. A thousand more to Bev Harrison, my editor extraordinaire and favorite Aussie. I could never do what I do without your combined efforts to clean up my messy manuscripts. Thanks for always making my literary babies shine.

  With a heart overflowing with love and gratitude, I give thanks to God for allowing me to pursue my passion; and to see my dreams come true in Your perfect timing. I’m forever astounded by Your unconditional love, forever humbled by the gift of Your Son, Jesus Christ, and forever blessed by Your presence in my life.

  About the Author

  Born in Texas and raised in Oklahoma, Diane Hale Moody is a graduate of Oklahoma State University. She lives with her husband Ken in the rolling hills just outside of Nashville. They are the proud parents of two grown and extraordinary children, Hannah and Ben.

  Just after moving to Tennessee in 1999, Diane felt the tug of a long-neglected passion to write again. Since then, she’s written a column for her local newspaper, feature articles for various magazines and curriculum, and several novels with a dozen more stories eagerly vying for her attention.

  When she’s not reading or writing, Diane enjoys an eclectic taste in music and movies, great coffee, the company of good friends, and the adoration of a peculiar little pooch named Darby.

  Visit Diane's website at www.dianemoody.net and her blog, “just sayin’” at www.dianemoody.blogspot.com

  DIANE MOODY

  Prologue

  Stillwater, Oklahoma

  Seventeen years ago

  “I don’t have a clue.”

  “He’s your best friend—what do you mean you don’t have a clue?”

  “Correction. You are my best friend.” Michael Dean leaned across the plaid-covered table to plant a pizza kiss on his girlfriend’s lips.

  “Michael!” Annie Franklin snatched a napkin to wipe her mouth.

  “What?”

  “Look at this,” she flipped the napkin smeared with pizza sauce. “You can sweet talk me any day, but lose the grease first, okay?”

  He watched his girlfriend, enjoying her reprimand. He drank in the sight of her long brown hair, curled and shining even in the dim candlelight of their favorite pizza dive. Her sparkling eyes, a rich shade of deep sable, danced as if hiding some delicious secret—eyes that never failed to mesmerize him.

  And her smile . . . he could lose himself in that smile. Any time, any day. He reached for another slice of pizza, folded it in half, and took a huge bite. “You’re beautiful when you get mad,” he mumbled. “Did you know that?” He locked gazes with her as she finished wiping her mouth.

  A reluctant smile spread across her face. “Stop changing the subject. Why is Grady so upset?”

  He knew Annie wasn’t afraid to plow through his evasiveness. After three and a half years together, she knew his every nuance. He could hide nothing from her. Inseparable since meeting the first week of their freshman year at Oklahoma State University, he enjoyed the honesty and openness between them—a trait he knew she cherished. And while they didn’t always agree on every subject, there was nothing they wouldn’t or couldn’t discuss.

  He took a long gulp from his frosted glass of root beer and wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s ticked off at Coach for benching him the last five games. Can’t say as I blame him.”

  “Me neither. You’d be climbing the dugout walls if it was you.”

  Michael cocked an eyebrow. “No kidding. I mean, think about it, Annie—it’s our senior year. This is it. The stands are crawling with scouts, and there’s Grady—parked on his keister. Look, I feel for him, but what am I supposed to do?”

  Annie pushed her plate aside. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that those same scouts are swarming all over you.” She reached for his hand.

  He lifted her hand to his lips. “Can I help it if I’m incredibly awesome?”

  “Not to mention arrogant, cocky—” She pulled her hand back, grabbing a napkin to wipe off his pizza lip print.

  “Seriously, I’m sorry it’s happened to him, but at this point I can’t carry him anymore.” Michael leaned back in the booth. “The stakes are too high. If I’m gonna go in the first or second round of the draft, I’ve got to concentrate on my own game. Grady’s got to look out for himself.”

  “I know, but I hate to see him so depressed. Grady’s like family to us. We can’t just let him suffer. I wish there was—”

  Wham!

  A pile of textbooks slammed onto their table. “Hi guys! Oooh . . . pepperoni! My favorite! Scoot over, Annie.” The spirited blonde plopped down in the booth next to Annie, making herself at home. “Hey Brandon?” she yelled over her shoulder. “Bring me a plate and a Diet Coke, okay?” The waiter nodded his reply as she reached for a slice of pizza. “So what’s going on?”

  “Christine, nice of you to join us,” Michael laughed. “Please—don’t be shy. Have some pizza.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” she answered, missing his sarcasm. “Michael, what’d you get on that Business Finance exam?” She popped a piece of pepperoni into her mouth. “That one ate my lunch. I’ll be lucky if I even passed it.”

  “I doubt that.” He winked at Annie. “But I don’t know what I got on it. I was out of town for a game and haven’t checked the grade postings yet.” He took another drink, watching his two favorite girls. Best friends since middle school, Annie and Christine Benson were as different as day and night but closer than sisters. Their friendship was something to behold. A genuine work of art.

  “Whatever. Hey, Annie? Can I borrow your black dress?” Christine took a sip from Annie’s glass. “I have a date tonight.”

  “The last time you wore it you got salsa on it and didn’t bother to have it cleaned. Tell me one good reason I should loan it to you again.”

  “Because I’m your best friend? Because I know all your juicy little secrets?”

  “You’re reaching, girlfriend.”

  “Because my date has two extra tickets to see James Taylor next week?”

  Michael slapped his open palms on the table. “Loan her the dress! Just make sure she hands over the tickets first. All right, Tumbleweed!” He stretched across the table to give Christine a playful kiss on the cheek.

  “Stop it!” She pulled away. “You know I hate that stupid name. Grady says it all the time, and it annoys me to death.”

  He ignored her as usual. “Hey, Annie. You ’n me and James Taylor. How about it?” His eyebrows danced as he crooned the opening lyrics of Something in the Way She Moves.

  “Sing it, sweet baby James,” Annie swooned.

  Michael conti
nued, his pitch perfect as he sang the familiar, romantic words of the song they’d long ago dubbed “their” song.

  “That’s real nice, but what’s the big deal?” Christine complained. “I was kind of disappointed Seth had these tickets. I’d rather see Springsteen. Or Michael Jackson. James Taylor is just too, I don’t know, sedate for me.”

  Michael’s serenade continued, the lyrics echoing in his glass when he took a sip of root beer. He wiped his mouth again. “Because James Taylor is a classic. He’s the hands-down, all-time best singer-songwriter there is. You should feel blessed—your date has excellent taste in music. Just like us. We like the real deal, the main man, the true blue, Sweet Baby James. Don’t we, Annie?” He reached for her hand across the table.

  “We do, that we do.” She smiled back at him with a wink. “Christine, the dress is yours. But this time, don’t bring it back until you get it dry cleaned, got it? Tickets or no tickets.”

  “Sure. Whatever,” Christine dismissed. “But while we’re at it, there are more important things to discuss here. Like shoes. I need your black stilettos to go with the dress.”

  “Yes, Annie. She simply MUST have those stilettos.” Michael batted his eyes, swishing his dangling wrist across the table. “Though personally, I’d prefer the strappy rhinestone sandals. But that’s just me.”

  Annie flicked a packet of sugar, hitting him square on the nose. “Enough! I don’t wear your cleats, sweet thing, so you stay away from my shoes. Got it?”

  She gazed across the table at Michael who was still laughing at his own joke. He rolled his head back, then finally caught his breath and leveled his eyes back toward her.

  And there it was. That lopsided, boy-next-door grin that melted her every time. How could a smile say so much? As if every emotion in his body was expressed in that one simple gesture. Dimples as deep as the Grand Canyon set in a golden tan. Perfect white teeth. The sun-kissed highlights in his shaggy brown hair, still wet from his after-practice shower. Annie sighed, taking it all in. She rested her chin on her hand and lost herself in his warm brown eyes.

  Oblivious to Christine or the other patrons of Hideaway Pizza, Annie felt a surge wash over her like she’d never known before. In that single moment, she knew without a shadow of doubt, she would spend the rest of her life with this man who meant more to her than life itself.

  I love you, she mouthed silently.

  He winked again. I love you more.

  Chapter 1

  Tampa, Florida

  Present day

  Annie McGregor felt the heat of impatience creep up her neck as she clutched the steering wheel, the cell phone cradled against her shoulder. “Because I can’t be there. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to manage without me.”

  “Well, calling Tuesday morning is rather short notice, don’t you think?”

  Annie bristled. “Fran, I know it’s short notice. Something has come up and I simply can’t make it to Bible study this morning.” Glancing over her shoulder, she merged into the flow of traffic entering the Tampa International Airport, irritated at the obstinacy on the other end of the line. Didn’t “assistant” mean you assisted when necessary?

  “What’s wrong, Annie? You sound upset.”

  Fran’s tone iced through her veins. “I’m not upset! But I don’t think I should have to explain myself just because I can’t be there. You’ll do fine without me. Run the video then break them into their small groups. It’s not that hard, Fran.”

  “Are you sick? Is one of the kids sick? Is it David? Is something wrong?”

  Here we go again. All the questions. The constant prying. Why does everyone think they’re entitled to know my every thought and action? Annie took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. Fran wasn’t a beast. She meant well. “Look Fran, I can’t be there. Can we just leave it at that?” She cringed at the hypocritical tone of her own voice.

  “Annie, what’s gotten into you? You’ve been so irritable lately. And I don’t mind telling you, I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  “Fine. I’m irritable. I’m crabby. I’m obnoxious. So sue me.”

  She snapped the phone off and tossed it toward her purse in the passenger seat. Annie bit her lower lip to dam the flood of tears, desperate to keep her appearance intact until she walked through the door of Christine’s cabin in Colorado. Catching her reflection in the rearview mirror, she was startled by the angry woman looking back at her. Tiny red lines laced roadmaps across tired brown eyes, normally warm and smiling. With her thick hair pulled back into a long ponytail, her face looked pale despite an earlier dash of make-up, her lips pinched in an absurd scowl. Disgusted, she muttered a growl and pressed her foot harder against the accelerator as she flew through the ribbons of traffic approaching the airport terminals.

  Seated on the plane two hours later, Annie reached into her purse to turn off her cell phone. The special cell pocket was empty. She panicked, digging through the rest of her bag. Nothing. Mentally backtracking her morning, her shoulders sagged in disbelief when she remembered tossing it toward her purse in the van, but apparently not into her purse. The tiny gadget was most likely resting between the passenger seat and door.

  Great. Just great.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Delta Airlines Flight 1624 with non-stop service to Colorado Springs. The captain has been given clearance to depart from the terminal at this time, so we ask for your immediate attention to the flight attendant nearest you regarding our safety features.”

  Annie continued shaking her head, still livid at the blunder in her well-constructed plans. Then a thought occurred to her. Maybe leaving her cell phone behind wasn’t a mistake after all. Maybe it was exactly what she needed to do.

  Oblivious to the flight attendant’s voice drifting through the crowded cabin, Annie looked out the window beside her as the aircraft backed away from the gate then rolled gently across the tarmac. Gates and hangars marched slowly by. She leaned over to look up at the sky, studying the ominous clouds overhead. God, please hold the weather just a few more minutes until we can get up above the clouds. I can’t bear to stay on the ground another minute.

  She realized she was doing it again. Her jaws ached from the constant clenching, a mindless habit she’d acquired over the last few months. She flexed her jaw, dropping her mouth open and shut, open and shut, working out the kinks.

  Get a hold of yourself. It’s a four-hour flight. That’s all.

  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she’d been so ugly to Fran on the phone.

  What am I doing here?

  Always, whenever the wave of hostility or anxiety began to threaten her composure, she reached for something to read. Earlier, while rushing through one of the airport gift shops, she picked up a copy of Grisham’s latest bestseller. Trusting the author to give her the escape she desired, she reached for the book stuffed in her carry-on bag under the seat in front of her. Rummaging through the bag, she noticed the tapestry cover of her journal. Her heart began to hammer against her chest.

  Not now. Not yet.

  Finding the novel, she plopped it in her lap and flipped through the introductory pages to the first chapter. By the time the 737 screamed off the runway into the air, she’d read the first sentence four times. As the darkened sky swallowed the silver bird in flight, she slowly closed the book and exchanged it for the journal. Thankful for the empty seats beside her, she caressed the worn cover gently in her hands, tracing the rounded edges with the tip of her finger.

  My life is pressed between the covers of this book.

  For some reason, the realization hit her hard. For as long as she could remember, she had recorded the details of her life. Sometimes the entries stretched page after page as she relayed significant events. Others were brief—sometimes nothing more than a simple phrase or thought or a single lyric from a song that touched her. But it’s all here. The story of my life.

  Yet even now, as the plane’s vapor surely
trailed the expanding distance behind them, Annie knew what she must do. She swallowed hard and opened the journal.

  I’m engaged! I can’t believe it! The most wonderful man on the face of the earth wants to marry me! How can that be? It was so romantic—the way he proposed, surprising me below my balcony. Even the neighbors got in on the act. Yes, David McGregor, YES!! I will marry you!!! And I will follow you to the ends of the earth . . .

  A slight smile tugged at her mouth, the memories rolling over her in a gentle wave. David had been such an unexpected joy in her life. Hard to believe they once lived such a fairy tale existence. She ignored the nagging swell of her heart rate, refusing to think beyond the entry. She continued revisiting the special moments of her life, occasionally skipping notes here and there, sometimes several pages at a time.

  David’s first Sunday as the new pastor of Tall Pines Community Church. We were so nervous! I got up early to make his favorite breakfast but he couldn’t eat a bite. But he was AMAZING once he got to the pulpit. His voice was a little shaky at first, then he found his stride and spoke like he’d preached every single day of his life. I was so proud of him!

  Her stomach muscles tensed. She remembered the glow of those early days of ministry, happier times now filtered through far too much resentment. I was such a naive fool back then.

  She flipped through the pages, then paused to read the December 20th entry from just over sixteen years ago when a little guy named Max joined them quite unexpectedly.

  We’re parents! I can’t believe it! It all happened so fast. I only wish we could’ve met his birth mother or at least find out why she picked us. Max is only eight months old and absolutely adorable. Father, thank You for letting us be Mommy and Daddy to this little guy. He’s the best Christmas gift—and first anniversary gift—we could ever ask for!