The Prodigal Comes Home. Kathryn Springer
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“How long has it been since you two have seen each other?” Matthew asked Zoey.
Zoey stiffened, searching for undercurrents of suspicion in the husky voice. Zoey tried to tell herself it only made sense that his concern would be centered on her grandmother now.
But he probably thought that she had shown up, circling like a vulture, to determine just how sick her grandmother was. He’d seen the condition of her Jeep. The clothing piled in the backseat. More than likely she was down on her luck. Looking for someone to take care of her.
The thought turned Zoey’s stomach.
She wouldn’t try to explain that the reason she’d come back was to give, not take.
It wouldn’t make any difference. As soon as he left, the good pastor would no doubt ask around town—find at least a dozen people who would cheerfully supply all the gruesome details of her past—and he wouldn’t believe her anyway.
KATHRYN SPRINGER
is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since! She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.
The Prodigal Comes Home
Kathryn Springer
“He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear
and put their trust in the Lord.”
—Psalms 40:3
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
She shouldn’t have come back.
The thought raced through Zoey Decker’s mind the moment she spotted a square, unassuming green road sign sprouting from the snow-covered ditch.
Mirror Lake—3 miles.
Spots began to dance in front of her eyes and she stomped on the brake, wrestling the Jeep onto the side of the road. Maybe she should get out of the vehicle for a few minutes. Stretch her legs.
A bracing March wind pinched Zoey’s cheeks as she bailed awkwardly out of the driver’s seat and started down the road, fatigue adding weight to her limbs.
For the past few hours, she’d been telling herself that she’d made the right decision. Now—only a few minutes from her destination—she was having second thoughts.
Zoey’s gaze locked on the sign again.
What was that old saying?
You can’t go home again?
But Mirror Lake had never been home. Not really. It just happened to be the town where her grandparents had retired. The place her parents had dumped her off because they didn’t know how to deal with a full-blown case of teenage rebellion.
And even though Zoey had only lived in Mirror Lake two short years—which must have seemed more like a lifetime to her sixty-five-year-old grandparents—she had definitely made her mark.
A black one…
“Are you lost?”
Zoey whirled around at the sound of a voice behind her. A low, masculine rumble that had her questioning her impulsive decision to stop on a quiet stretch of road sandwiched between two imposing walls of towering white pine.
With not a house in sight.
She hadn’t expected to see anyone. Not this early in the morning. And especially not a man, who’d materialized seemingly out of nowhere.
Zoey caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the six-foot-tall obstacle that now stood between her and the safety of the Jeep. Chiseled features, tousled dark-blond hair. The lean but muscular frame of someone who probably earned his living outdoors.
Under ordinary circumstances, someone of his size shouldn’t have been able to sneak up and catch her unaware—but then again, nothing about the last twenty-four hours had been ordinary. Zoey had spent most of the night navigating miles of national forest, where white-tailed deer far outnumbered the population of the towns she’d driven through.
The guy didn’t look like a criminal. But how was a woman supposed to know who she could and couldn’t trust these days? And if Zoey was completely honest, she knew her track record in that department hadn’t always been the best.
He shifted his stance, a subtle movement that positioned him closer to the vehicle.
Had the action been deliberate?
Zoey suppressed a shiver and rolled her hands up in the hem of the oversized, hand-knit sweater that had been a gift from her grandmother many Christmases ago.
The man noticed the gesture and his eyebrows dipped together in a frown. “Are you lost?” he repeated.
In a different situation, the question might have made Zoey smile. “It depends on who you ask.”
The frown deepened. He obviously didn’t understand her wry sense of humor. “Is something wrong with your car?”
“No.” At least, Zoey silently amended, nothing that could be fixed on the side of the road. She cast a fond look at the eggplant-purple Jeep, decorated with its contrasting pattern of rust, intricate as a henna tattoo. It had outlived its warranty by at least a few thousand miles and yet somehow managed to get her from Point A to B. That was good enough for her. “I’m fine. My car is fine, too.”
Zoey inched forward, silently gauging the distance between them and the vehicle.
He was closer.
“That’s good to know.” The corners of the man’s lips kicked up into a smile and, stranger or not, Zoey could feel her heart doing an impromptu tap dance in her chest. Which only proved she could use a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. “I was out for a run and saw your car parked by the side of the road. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
A good Samaritan.
Now Zoey noticed a detail she’d