Return to Me by Robin Lee Hatcher Read Free Book Online Page A

she gets back, we’ll pick a date and see if the church is available.”
    The doorbell rang. Wyatt glanced toward the living room entrance in time to see the live-in housekeeper, Fortuna Rodriguez, pass by on her way to the front door. He turned toward Jonathan again. “If you’re expecting company, I can — ”
    “I’m not expecting anyone.” He waved his hand. “Probably a salesman.”
    “It’s a little late for that.”
    “That doesn’t seem to stop anybody these days.” Jonathan shook his head. “Time was when no self-respecting person called or came to a person’s home before ten in the morning or after eight in the evening.” He chuckled. “Sorry. I’d better get off my soapbox. Let’s get back to your wedding plans.”
    “Mr. Jonathan?” Standing at the living-room entrance, For- tuna — a short, plump woman in her fifties — looked hesitant, a rare expression for this woman who had been part of the Burke household for more than twenty-five years.
    “What is it, Fortuna?”
    “You are needed at the door, sir. You should come.”
    Jonathan rose from the leather sofa and crossed the room with- out a word. A moment later, Wyatt followed.
    =

    The wait on the front stoop of her family home seemed longer to Roxy than the trip from Tennessee to Idaho. Her stomach churned and twisted, and her mouth felt as dry as dust. She shivered in the evening chill. There was a sweater in her duffel bag. She should ⎯ The sound of approaching footsteps made her forget the cold.
    The moment she dreaded was here.
    The half-open door swung wide, and in the porch light, she saw what she hadn’t seen for seven long years: her father’s face. In an instant, his expression changed from a concerned frown to wide-eyed disbelief.
    “Roxanne?” Her whispered name was barely out of his mouth before he moved outside and gathered her into his arms, pulling her close against him. “Oh, thank You, God. Thank You, God.” He pressed her head against his chest and rocked from side to side, holding her tight. “Roxy, you’ve come home. Thank You, Father. Oh, my beloved daughter. You’re home. You’ve come home. Thank God.”
    She started to cry. They were silent tears. She was too weary for sound.
    It was the reception she’d longed for but hadn’t dared hope to receive. Her dad, holding her. Murmuring words of comfort, tell- ing her he loved her, repeating it over and over.
    Roxy didn’t deserve his love. She wasn’t the woman he’d raised her to be. Which of the values he’d taught her had she embraced? Temperance? Hardly. A good work ethic? Obviously not. Thrift? That was a joke. Purity?
    She shivered.
    “We better get you inside,” he said. “You’re cold.” She wasn’t cold. She was ashamed.
    Her father drew back but didn’t release her, searching her face with his gaze. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
    “It’s me.”
    “Come inside.” He turned her toward the entrance.
    Roxy saw Fortuna standing in the doorway. The housekeeper’s cheeks were streaked with tears, but she wore a wide smile.
    Then Roxy saw the man standing behind Fortuna. Wyatt Baldini. Older, a little broader in the shoulders, and yet very much the same Wyatt of her memories.
    Her heart caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t draw a breath. Of all people, Wyatt was the last person she’d been pre- pared to see tonight. Why was he here?
    His expression made her want to shrivel up and blow away. She recognized his dismay and knew he was right to feel that way.
    She shouldn’t have come home.
    =

    Wyatt wouldn’t have known Roxy if he passed her on the street. She’d changed that much. The Roxy he remembered was full of spunk and mischief, as lively in spirit as she was beautiful. This woman was beaten and lifeless, her beauty muted by dark circles beneath her eyes and the gauntness of her face and figure. And something in her gaze haunted him . . . something that said she had seen too much.
    The look broke his heart.
    He moved