The Prodigal Comes Home. Kathryn Springer
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paused and shook her head. “Listen to me! Do you drink coffee, Zoey, or would you prefer something else?”
“Coffee is fine. Thank you.”
Before she could finish the sentence, the pastor had poured her a cup.
Silence swelled and filled in the empty spaces between them. Zoey picked at the edge of the cinnamon roll, if only to give her hands something to do. She could feel the weight of two pairs of eyes.
Suddenly, her grandmother chuckled. “Oh my goodness—that sweater you’re wearing! I can’t believe you kept it all these years. It was my first project after I joined Esther Redstone’s knitting group.”
“I love it.” Zoey looked down and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth down another one of the loops that had worked its way loose in the wash.
Over the years, the sweater had moved with her when she’d been forced to leave other things behind. It might have become a little misshapen and fuzzy, but Zoey hadn’t been able to part with it.
“Your grandpa teased me while I was making it. He said it would be more suited for a man named Joseph than a girl named Zoey. He was right, you know.” A smile deepened the creases fanning out from Liz’s brown eyes. “I must have used every color of yarn in the shop.”
At the mention of her grandfather, Zoey felt that familiar pinch of regret. “I remember.”
“How long has it been since you two have seen each other?” Matthew directed the question at Zoey.
She 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.
He knew Liz.
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, he thought she was looking for someone to take care of her.
The idea 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.
“Much too long.” Gran answered the question, reaching out and giving Zoey’s hand a comforting squeeze.
Zoey fought the urge to cling to her. When she’d made the impulsive decision to drive to Mirror Lake and see Gran, she hadn’t anticipated the avalanche of feelings her visit would trigger.
She hadn’t expected that a place she had lived for two short, unhappy years of her life would feel like coming home.
Like the outside of the house, the inside looked exactly the way she remembered it. Right down to the powder-blue velvet furniture and the collection of porcelain birds decorating the fireplace mantle.
And Gran…she may have added a few more lines, but she was as sweet and warmhearted as Zoey remembered.
Maybe the only thing that had changed was her.
Not that Zoey expected anyone—not even her grandmother—to believe it.
“You can stay for lunch, can’t you? Or are you just passing through Mirror Lake?”
The sudden quaver in Liz’s voice seared Zoey’s conscience. Although she had plenty of reasons, there was no indication that her grandmother was suspicious of her unexpected arrival.
Zoey sneaked a look at Matt and found those hazel eyes trained on her. Waiting for her response, too. “Mom told me that you’d just gotten out of the hospital.”
“You talked to your mother?” There was no disguising the pleased surprise in Gran’s voice.
“I thought maybe I could stay and help you out for awhile.” Zoey didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother by confessing that they hadn’t really spoken—she’d listened to the voice mail message Sara Decker had left. “If you…need me, I mean,” she added quickly.
The color drained from Liz’s face again and Matt put a protective hand on her arm. “Liz? Are you all right?”
“I’m more than all right.” Gran took a deep breath and patted his hand before turning a smile on Zoey that warmed her from the inside out. “I’d love for you to stay with me, sweetheart. And you are welcome for as long as you’d like.”
Chapter Three
That was it?
No questions?
Because Matt had a truckload of them, even if Liz didn’t.
Judging from the interaction he’d witnessed between the two women, it was clear they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. And it didn’t take a trained counselor—which Matt happened to be—to figure out that some of Zoey’s tension seemed to stem from her uncertainty over how she would be received.
But that didn’t make sense, either. Liz was known for her hospitality. She was the kind of woman who encouraged people to drop in without an invitation.
“Matthew?” Liz turned to him. “Do you have time to help Zoey carry her things in?”
Before he could reply, Zoey surged to her feet. “That’s okay, Gran, I don’t need his help. I don’t have much. Just some clothes.”
And apparently she didn’t want Liz to know those clothes were piled on the backseat of her vehicle.
A frown deepened the row of pleats across Liz’s forehead. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. And I’m sure that…Pastor Wilde has other things to do instead of play bellhop.”
To her nonexistent luggage, Matt thought.
Their eyes met. Hers begged him not to say the words out loud.
“I do have an appointment at nine.” Matt took his cue and stood up. “I’m sure you two ladies have a lot of catching up to do.”
“We do at that, don’t we, Zoey?” Liz beamed. “I’ll have a fresh pot of coffee on by the time you get settled.”
“Gran, please.” Zoey bit down on her lower lip. “I didn’t come here so you could fuss over me. I came to fuss over you, remember?”
Liz closed her eyes, as if savoring something sweet. “I like the sound of that.”
“Really?” Matt lifted a skeptical brow. “You might like the ‘sound’ of it and yet you fight it all the way.”
“That’s not completely true,” Liz protested.
Matt looked at Zoey. “You did catch the word ‘completely,’ didn’t you?”
Zoey’s lips curved in a brief, tentative smile that had the power to derail his initial reservations like a runaway freight train.
“You can stay in your old bedroom, Zoey,” Liz went on. “I’m afraid, though, that it looks exactly the same way as it did when you left.”
Your old bedroom?
Matt tried to hide his astonishment. The comment made it sound as if the arrangement had been permanent at one time.
Which made it even more unbelievable that Liz had never mentioned a granddaughter.
“I could stay in the carriage house,” Zoey ventured. “That way, I won’t be underfoot but I’ll still be close by if you need me.”
Liz waved her hand in the air, brushing away the comment the way she would a pesky fly. “What I need is a little noise in this drafty old house. There’s plenty of room for