Carter had pushed too far.

The families slowly began to disperse, but Carter remained fixed against the wall, his legs unable to move and his heart unwilling to let them. He had to see Gracie, talk to her. But what would he say—sorry for the last seven years of silence? Sorry for not finding you at my father’s funeral? Sorry for that night on the pier that ruined a lifetime of friendship? Nothing seemed sufficient, nothing seemed capable of quelling that distrust in her eyes.

She’d never believe the truth even if he told her.

And why would she? Disloyalty was all she knew from him, all he’d ever bothered to show. Regret coated his stomach, and Carter blinked against the emotion rising in his throat. Seeing Gracie after all this time rendered him somewhat senseless. But he was a changed man now. And it was time to show her.

BETSY ST. AMANT

loves polka-dot shoes, chocolate and sharing the good news of God’s grace through her novels. She has a bachelor’s degree in Christian Communications from Louisiana Baptist University and is actively pursuing a career in inspirational writing. Betsy resides in northern Louisiana with her husband and daughter and enjoys reading, kickboxing and spending quality time with her family.

Return to Love
Betsy St. Amant

MILLS & BOON

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If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared.

—Psalms 130:3–4

To my daughter, Audrey. You were with me from the

beginning of this novel, even before either of us knew.

I love writing books with you!

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my husband, Brandon—

your encouragement keeps me going. I love you!

Also to my parents—deadlines are much easier to

meet when you willingly babysit! And to my

Super Agent, Tamela, and my awesome editor

Emily—you guys are the best.

An extra special thank-you to Tom Dyer at the

Aquarium of the Americas. You answered endless

questions about your beloved birds, and I’m so

grateful for your patience and help.

And a huge thank-you to Dallas Weeks, a talented

singer, songwriter and friend who generously allowed

me to use the lyrics to “Blue Eyes” in this story.

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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Feeding time—Gracie Broussard’s favorite part of the day at the Aquarium of the Americas. It was worth the chaos, watching a dozen or more awe-stricken young faces press against the display glass in glee. Sometimes she didn’t know who bounced the most—the excited children, or the penguins.

She stroked the top of Ernie’s slick head, then leaned over to check the thermometer in the pond. Still sixty degrees. She wiped her wet fingers on her khakis. Ernie let out a high-pitched squawk.

“I know, little man. I feel the same.” She grinned and adjusted the microphone clipped to the collar of her tan polo. Time to perform. Several families were already gathered in the dim walkway. One child mashed his lips against the glass and made a fish face.

Gracie smiled. She used to be nervous speaking in front of the visitors each day, but the more she did it, the more she realized the facts and statistics she rattled off during the short presentation were all but ignored in light of the spunky black-and-white birds at her feet.

“Hello, there, and welcome to Aquarium of the Americas. I’m Gracie, and these are my favorite guys in the world.” She gestured to the penguins, some perched on the rock display, others diving into the murky waters.

Her assistant Jillian entered the exhibit through the side door, a five-gallon bucket of fish in her hand. The penguins waddled toward her on cue. Huey and Gumbo fought for position on the slippery rocks, and a little girl in the hallway laughed.

Gracie brushed some feathers from a boulder near the pond and perched on the edge as Jillian settled beside her, notebook balanced on her knees. “These are African penguins, and as you can tell, they’re just a little hungry.”

The adults smiled and the children pressed their hands against the window as if hoping to reach right through and touch the birds.

“As I tell you about my friends here, Jillian will record the data of each penguin’s feeding habits. These records help us determine which penguins are sick, and which species of fish each bird prefers.”

Gracie plucked a slimy squid from the bucket at her feet and offered it to Ernie. He mashed it in his beak once, then tossed up his head in approval. The fish slid down his throat, with a little help from his tight neck muscles. Jillian jotted the note in her record book.

“Most of you probably know penguins can’t fly.” Gracie tossed a fish to Gumbo and glanced at the group gathered around the glass as she reached for another. As she continued to expand on the many wonders of her feathered friends, she let her gaze wander over the gathered crowd. She stopped mid-sentence when she saw a familiar mop of curly brown hair and a pair of broad shoulders.

Her heartbeat quickened. That hair, that stance…No, it couldn’t be, not here in New Orleans. She’d left him—no, actually, he’d left her—seven years ago on his parents’ private dock on Cypress Black Bayou Lake. Walked away with that guitar pick he was always fiddling with, a curt nod of his head…and her heart. But regardless how much time had passed, there was no mistaking the dimple in his chin or that square jaw.

Gracie’s heart pounded in her chest, and she was sure the crowd could hear it on the other side of the glass. No, no, it can’t be him. But the truth refused to be denied.

The sleeves of his rust-colored sweater were pushed up to his elbows, revealing the muscular lines of his forearms. She couldn’t help staring through a foggy lens of memory. Those strong, tanned arms that once hoisted her from the murky waters of the Black Bayou onto the pier, that wrapped around her shoulders in comforting side-hugs, that arm-wrestled her for a week’s worth of chewing gum, now were crossed firmly over his chest—a much wider, broader chest. Laugh lines softened the once hard planes of his face, and a layer of dark stubble clung to his lower jaw. Time had been awfully fair to Carter—which was a lot more than he deserved.

Anger choked in Gracie’s throat and a headache sprang to life behind her eyes. She stumbled over the rest of her speech. “Penguins can’t fly because their bones are solid, n-not hollow like other birds.”

Did he recognize her? It had been so long…and in some ways, not nearly long enough. Her traitorous gaze darted in his direction again, and their eyes met. His thick eyebrows rose in slight acknowledgment, and her stomach gave a telltale leap.

Her emotions might not remember Carter’s betrayal, but her heart did. It remembered every labored, bruised beat.

After seven years, Carter Morgan Alexander was back.

Carter Alexander stared into the penguin exhibit, reeling from shock. He had no idea when he dropped his suitcases at his friend Andy’s apartment and headed to the aquarium for an afternoon of sightseeing that he’d run into her. When had Gracie left Benton, LA, and moved South? It’d been, what—about seven years now?

Mouth dry, he struggled to keep a poker face as Gracie’s piercing blue-green gaze settled on his. It was full of questions, accusations—and more than a little anger.

Something unfamiliar and tight stirred in his stomach, and he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Good thing, since his knees were starting to feel less than sturdy.

Gracie finally lowered those arresting eyes, and a slight blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks as she reached forward with a fish. She looked the same—the elegance that always clung to her persona like a robe of righteousness still seemed to fit. And that long red hair…she hadn’t cut it. It cascaded over her shoulders like a flaming liquid waterfall.

Much like it had the night he broke both their hearts.

Carter briefly squeezed his eyes shut against the memory and tried to focus on the penguins darting about the tank. Gracie might not have changed much since that starry summer night on the lake, but he sure had experienced a transformation. The problem was, judging by the stiffness in those slim shoulders, she wasn’t planning on giving him a chance to prove it. He should have tried years ago—then again, fresh anger wasn’t any easier to handle than stale.

Carter shifted his weight against the wall. He deserved her ire. Let Gracie remember him the way he was—the arrogant jerk with a guitar and a dozen girlfriends, the lead singer of the band Cajun Friday who was too big for his britches, his faith…and his best friend.

Gracie’s musical voice sounded over the speakers, just as soft and clear as the regret that haunted his mind these last several years. “It’s a common misconception that all penguins require an arctic atmosphere. Many people are shocked that we have such a large exhibit here in this sultry part of the South—and it might surprise you that we keep the air in this tank regulated to seventy degrees.”

She stroked the back of one of the birds, who seemed determined to creep closer to the bucket of fish. Jillian nudged the barrel out of reach with her foot.

Gracie’s eyes found Carter’s and then flitted away. “I’ve learned that everything isn’t always what you might expect.”

She finished her presentation, but it was nothing more than a blur of statistics and red hair gleaming under the aquarium lights. Carter’s throat tightened and he applauded with the rest of the crowd. The penguins preened, as if they knew they were the real stars of the show.

“Are there any questions Jillian or I can answer?” Gracie tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled, though her eyebrow quivered in the way it always used to when she had a headache.

“What’s that penguin’s name?” One blond kid raised his hand and then pointed to the bird standing alone at the edge of the water.

“This is Garth.” Gracie moved toward the penguin and he brayed up at her. “Sorry, Garth, the fish are all gone.”

The kids giggled. An elderly man in suspenders hooked his thumbs through the straps and called out, “Any baby penguins around right now?”

Gracie shook her head. “No, but we’re hopefully bringing in a new colony soon, and we have high hopes for eggs then.”

Carter felt his hand rise of its own accord. Gracie’s eyes landed on him and she sucked in a sharp breath, audible through the speaker system. “Yes, you in the back?”

Demoted to a curt you. He lowered his hand. “How long have you worked here?”

Gracie smoothed the front of her polo shirt over her pants. “A little over two years. Anyone else?”

A kid started to shout a question but Carter interrupted, louder. “Where did you get your education to work with the penguins?” Might as well find as many answers as he could, while she was forced to talk with him. Because afterward…

“A marine biology degree from Nicholls State University. In Thibodaux.” Gracie’s brows met in a pained arch. “Next?”

“Do penguins respond to music?” Carter’s muscles relaxed as Gracie’s seemed to tighten. That was the girl he knew, the one who bunched under pressure but held her own with a grace that still knocked his breath away. He fought the grin on his lips.

“Sometimes we play the radio for them. They seem to enjoy it but prefer speaking to each other instead.” Gracie licked her lips and turned toward the other side of the crowd, effectively dismissing him. “I’m afraid that’s all the questions we have time for today. Thanks for coming, and enjoy the rest of your visit.”

He’d pushed too far.

The families slowly began to disperse, but Carter remained fixed against the wall, his legs unable to move and his heart unwilling to let them. He had to see her, talk to her again. But what would he say? Sorry for the last seven years of silence? Sorry for that night on the pier that ruined a lifetime of friendship? Nothing seemed sufficient, nothing seemed capable of quelling that distrust in her eyes or the rigid body language that all but screamed get away from me.

She’d never believe the truth even if he told her.

And why would she? Disloyalty was all she knew from him, all he’d ever bothered to show. Regret coated his stomach and Carter blinked against the emotion rising in his throat. Seeing Gracie after all this time rendered him somewhat senseless. He was a changed man now—though it was maybe a little too late to do any good.

Gracie strode out of the aquarium, shoving her hair back with both hands and closing her eyes briefly before disappearing from sight. Yep, she had a headache. He knew it as surely as he knew her favorite color was blue and her favorite song was “Over the Rainbow.” She hurt because of him—and not for the first time.

Hindsight offered startling new clarity. If he hadn’t been such a fool, things could have been so different. Carter rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to hold back the torrent of memories demanding release. Not now, not here. He’d wait until he was back with his old college buddy Andy, maybe sprawled in front of the TV with a Dr. Pepper and some popcorn before he’d vent. Maybe Andy would have more words of wisdom to share, some advice to remind him he wasn’t the bad guy anymore.

Then maybe that look in Gracie’s eyes would stop tormenting his heart.

Gracie braced her elbows on the glass display case at the front of the gift shop and buried her face in her hands, drawing in a slow, deep breath. The aquarium was closed, yet Carter’s presence continued to throb like a sore wound. How dare he show up after so long and invade her workplace? His father had contributed large donations to the aquarium for nearly a decade, yet Carter picked today to pop in? He could have found out where she was years ago if he hadn’t turned his back on his family, as well as her. The last few years of his silence had been punishment enough—she didn’t need this jolt of surprise now.

She raised her head and looked across the counter at Lori Perkins, her best friend and manager of the gift shop. “I need more coffee.”

“Here.” Lori shoved a foam cup across the counter. “I just got a cappuccino before I locked up. You need it more than me.”

“Thanks.” Gracie propped on one elbow and took a sip of the warm liquid. Much better—though her head still ached behind her right eye.

“I can’t believe I missed seeing him.” Lori swung her long brown hair over her shoulder and hunched down to mimic Gracie’s pose on the counter. “Is he as cute as he was on his last CD cover?” She winked.

“That’s not the point.” Gracie grabbed a pencil from the display beside the cash register and twirled it through her fingers. Anything to avoid eye contact and Lori’s I-dare-you-to-try-and-keep-a-secret-from-me gaze. They’d shared coffee and more than their share of confidences over the past year as roommates, but this was different.

This was a broken fragment of her heart.

Lori plucked the pencil from Gracie’s grasp and stuck it back in the case. “Okay, so we know he’s probably still a looker. The awful ones usually are.”

“There was something different about him.” She squinted, trying to recall the specifics of the memory. “Something in his eyes.”

“Maybe he’s sorry for the past and came to apologize.” Lori grabbed a dust cloth from under the counter. “Sometimes regret changes a man, rare as it might be.” She grinned and went to work cleaning the inside of the glass.

Gracie stepped away from the counter to give her room. “But he couldn’t have known I was here. We haven’t talked in seven years.”

“He couldn’t have contacted your mother? I thought you said your families were close once upon a time.” Lori sprayed cleaner over the top of the case and rubbed. “I’m sure there were ways if he was determined.”

“What if he’s here for something else, something that has nothing to do with me at all?”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Lori set the bottle on the counter and tilted her head to one side. “To be left alone?”

No. Yes. Gracie shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Girl, you’ve got it bad, even after all this time.” Lori shook her head and resumed her cleaning.

A familiar ache started in the base of Gracie’s stomach until it filled her insides with a heavy layer of regret. “Even if I do, it doesn’t matter.” She looked away, the ache doubling in intensity. “It never did before.”

“What do you mean?” Lori paused, holding the rag inches above the countertop.

“Carter was my fairy tale, never my reality.” Gracie picked up a stuffed penguin dressed in a tuxedo and squeezed. “He was just this dream I had until I grew up.” She snorted. Dream, misunderstanding, mistake—same difference.

“So what happened?”

Gracie set the penguin down and sadly adjusted its little black bow tie. “I realized some toads never turn into princes.”

Chapter Two

Carter flopped down on the sofa and propped booted feet on the coffee table. His friend and college roommate, Andy Stewart, handed him a Dr. Pepper before claiming the La-Z-Boy. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Carter opened the can and took a quick sip, the fizz bubbling in his throat on the way down.

“So what’s up, man? You that nervous about performing for the kids?” Andy jacked the handle on the recliner, and the footrest popped into place.

“Not really. Your youth group at L’Eglise de Grace can’t be worse than the crowds I’ve played before.” Carter shook his head with a grin. “And if they are, we have a whole new problem on our hands, Pastor.”

Andy laughed. “Hey, I’ve done what I can with them. But they’re still teenagers—so no promises.”

“Hopefully they won’t throw rotten vegetables.”

Dr. Pepper spewed from Andy’s lips. He sat up straight and wiped his chin with his hand. “People have actually done that?”

“Well, not veggies. But a drunk guy threw a shoe once.”

“No wonder you retired.”

Retired, quit. Was it the same? Not really, but Andy knew the details, knew that Carter’s faith was what led him to leave the stage lights and his band far behind. If not for his friend’s guidance, he would have put down his guitar permanently, but Andy convinced him to try singing in churches instead of in clubs.

Nothing had been quite the same since.

“If you aren’t nervous about performing Thursday night at my church, then what gives? And don’t pull the jet-lag card on me—you only drove about five hours to get here.”

“I ran into someone today I wasn’t expecting.” Carter took another gulp from his soda can. “It didn’t go so well.” To put it mildly. He waited at the aquarium for Gracie until closing time, when he was politely asked to leave by a security guard who needed to lock up. Gracie had successfully avoided him after the penguin’s showing—not that he really blamed her.

“Must have been a woman.” Andy’s eyes darkened with understanding as he leaned forward to rest his drink on the coffee table. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Sort of.” He and Gracie had never dated, thanks to him. But if he could go back…

Carter couldn’t sit anymore, not with the weight of the past pressing against his shoulders. He stood and moved to the window in the living room, shoving aside the curtain to look down onto the road below. A streetcar stopped at the corner and passengers filed out—a tall brunette in a long, camel-colored jacket, a potbellied man in overalls, a teen boy with spiked hair and a studded dog collar. The rest of the patrons followed behind, adjusting their jackets and purses, some talking, others holding hands. A few walked with their heads down, arms crossed, as if the city or maybe the world itself were out to get them.

He recognized that stance. Carter rested his shoulder against the wall, eyes fixed on the fading golden sunlight spilling over the streets. He knew how it felt to hide, to grow tired of the mask. He walked around with his own arms crossed in a protective gesture for most of his life—the result of a fishbowl existence, lost within the murky waters of his father’s church. People thought they saw everything, but they only saw what they wanted. Never the truth.

The streetcar moved away from the corner and continued down the block, out of his line of vision. He let the curtain fall and turned back to Andy.

His friend studied him with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure if I should offer to pray with you or give you the remote control.”

Carter snorted and sat back on the couch. “Now I know you pity me. You never shared the remote in college.”

“You were hardly there, anyway.” Andy’s eyebrow quirked. “Day or night.”

“Don’t remind me,” Carter groaned. “The life of a rockstar.” His guitar, propped in the corner of the room near the fireplace hearth, caught his eye and he winced at the memories. How many screaming fans and busted strings and bright lights had it seen? Too many to count—though those days were all but over. Church crowds didn’t react quite the same way to his music.

“Sacrifices are never simple.” Andy nodded. “You had a big one to make.”

“Funny thing is I don’t miss it.”

“Not even a little?”

Carter shrugged. “Maybe a little.” He’d been lead singer of Cajun Friday for years. He never would have thought a high school band could have lasted so long and gained so much popularity in college and beyond. But if he was serious about honoring God with his life, he was more than willing to start from scratch and do things right this time, do something big and meaningful with his future as his parents always hoped he might—even if his dad wasn’t around to see it happen now. Bitterness clogged his throat and he coughed.

“I can’t wait to hear you play again.” Andy edged the recliner back a notch and stretched out. “Those kids wear me out, but they’re pretty awesome. Some of them have come in off the street with the hardest hearts you can imagine, and done complete one-eighties.”

“I’ll bet.” The description sounded like Carter himself not too many years ago. “I hope I’m able to reach them.”

“I’m sure you will. Don’t sweat it.” Andy pointed toward the ceiling. “That’s His job, right?”

“Right.”

Silence stretched across the room, save for the ticking of the coffee mug shaped clock on the living room wall. Could Andy tell he was still thinking about Gracie? Carter shifted on the couch, not sure whether to bring up the past on his first evening in New Orleans or let it ride for now. He pressed his lips together.

Andy made the decision for him. “Okay, I’ll take one guess and then leave you alone. Is this about Blue Eyes?”

Carter’s breath caught. His nickname for Gracie in high school, after that wide, naively alluring gaze—not practiced, as most of the women who kept him company—and the inspiration behind one of his band’s hit songs. If she wanted nothing to do with Carter now, that was her choice, and an understandable one—a few years ago, he would have felt the same. But the swells of pride and stubbornness had washed him away from what his heart knew to be right, tugging him further out to the sea of bitterness and denial. How could he have been so blind to what was right before his face for literally a decade? But he’d ridden that circular method of thinking for years now, with no more clarity than before.

He needed to answer Andy’s question, though he was sure by then his friend could read the truth on his face. “Yes.”

“Then here you go, man.” Andy tossed the remote at Carter from across the room. “That’s all you had to say.”

On Wednesday morning, Gracie poised her pencil over the paper in front of her, wrote a figure, then erased it. She grimaced. It was no use. Regardless of what she scribbled in the margins, the money simply wasn’t there. The gala budget was already stretched to the max, and she had yet to fund the decorations.

You have to spend money to make money. The words of her boss, curator of birds Michael Dupree, echoed in her mind from last week’s meeting. That might be true, but she couldn’t create something from nothing.

Gracie kneaded her forehead with her knuckles. The framed picture on her desk of Ernie and Huey caught her eye and she grinned in spite of her circumstances. They were waddling toward the camera, chests puffed out and beaks open as if smiling. “Guys, remind me why I volunteered to head this fund-raiser again?”

But the photo was evidence enough in itself. She was doing this for the penguins upstate who wouldn’t have a home come March. The Louisiana Aquarium, after struggling to recover financially from the results of Hurricane Katrina, would be shutting its doors in the spring. Because the other aquariums in the state were at full capacity, the Aquarium of the Americas was the only possible solution for the little birds that would soon be homeless.

If she could raise the money. The board of advisors firmly stated they were willing to expand the current exhibit if the funds were provided. It wasn’t in the yearly budget otherwise—not after their own financial hit from the storms.

Gracie tapped her pencil on the sheet before her. She would have to call in some favors unless she could move money from another category. But most of what she needed had already been purchased, or required a set amount she couldn’t budge. For instance, the caterer and the band. If she was better at begging, she might play up the charity angle and attempt to get a price cut from either—but at the moment, she simply didn’t have that much moxie.

She sighed. Two weeks ago, before the budget was finalized, she felt prepared, capable and ready to take it all on. Then she started receiving quotes from the seemingly endless list of vendors necessary to pull off the gala, and her hopes dwindled almost as fast as the cash in the temporary account.

“I’ve got to make this work.” The penguins in the picture didn’t respond.

Gracie rolled back in her chair and closed her eyes. Not only was the destiny of a group of innocent birds counting on her, but in a way, she felt pressure even from beyond the grave. Carter’s father—Reverend Alexander—was the one who had secured her job at the aquarium. The penguin exhibit had been one of his favorite places in America—hence his generous annual donations. She had fought to have this new wing named in his honor. If she failed the penguins now, she failed Carter’s father—the one man in her life who’d been a constant. He deserved better than that, especially after the way Carter had treated him. She had to figure something out.

The office door opened and Lori flopped into the chair across from Gracie’s desk. She tossed her a rubber penguin keychain. “Here, we got a new shipment. From the blue cloud gathering outside your office, I thought you might need cheering up.”

“Am I that obvious?” Gracie squeezed the belly of the penguin. A light shone from its open beak and she laughed.

Lori crossed her legs. “So it’s not going so great, huh?”

“It was going great until I realized our money ran out and we still need decoration funding, not to mention extra advertising dollars.” Gracie rested her elbows on the desk. “What kind of Christmas gala is it going to be if no one hears about it, and there’s all this great food and entertainment in a completely bare, boring room? We want to wow the people so that they’ll donate money to fund the new exhibit.”

“What if I did it?”

“Did what?”

“Decorate! You know I went to design school for a few years. I majored in creating on a low budget.” Lori winked.

“Did you minor in creating on no budget?”

“Hey, in college—same difference.”

Gracie squinted, trying to envision the possibilities. Maybe her friend was on to something.

“My stepmother loves this aquarium. I bet she’d donate a bunch of poinsettias for the cause, and I can go to the dollar store and load up on lights and ornaments for a tree.” Lori’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “And you know those wreaths in our attic I usually hang on the windows at Christmas? I can let you use them for the gala instead.”

“That might actually work.” Hope sprung for the first time in hours.

Lori tossed back her long hair and tilted her nose toward the ceiling. “Of course. I’m a genius.”

Gracie’s cell phone rang next to a stack of papers on the desk. She flipped the cover, still smiling at her friend’s generosity, and said hello.

“Ms. Broussard?”

“This is she.” Gracie didn’t recognize the voice. She picked up a pencil and grabbed a pad of sticky notes in case it was fund-raiser-related.

“This is John Stevens with the Creole Boys band.”

“Yes?” A knot stuck in Gracie’s throat, but she tried to think positively. John could be calling to confirm the dates or—

“I’m afraid I have some bad news about your event.”

Gracie clenched the pencil with suddenly sweaty fingers. “Oh?”

“The Creole Boys are going to have to cancel.”

Gracie rubbed her bare arms against the cool fall breeze blowing off the river. Late autumn had officially arrived in all its glory, scattering golden leaves across her path and casting dusky shadows under storefront awnings.

After Lori finished her closing duties at the gift store, they decided to share a bowl of gumbo at Gumbo Shop before heading to their townhouse. They could brainstorm what to do about the gala over a steaming bowl of sausage and rice. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

Lori tugged down the long sleeves of her uniform shirt. “Whew! It’s getting chilly.”

“You’ll warm up after a few bites.” The hanging wooden sign of the famous restaurant swung into view. Gracie quickened her pace and breathed in the spicy aroma hovering outside the door. A few more steps, and she’d be inhaling the best gumbo this side of the Mississippi. She reached for the handle, her stomach growling in anticipation.

A deep, familiar laugh penetrated the air.

Grace’s fingers slipped off the door and she stared unseeing down the street. The bustling city sidewalks, the resonance of wind and boots scuffling leaves faded until only one sound reached her ears. Her back straightened and she drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Did you hear that?”

“What? Your stomach growl?” Lori reached for the door of the restaurant.

“No.” Gracie shoved the door shut and pulled Lori to one side. “That laugh.”

Lori frowned. “I hear people laughing all the time. It’s a common expression of pleasure or enjoyment. You should try it more—”

“It’s Carter.” Gracie slumped against the wall by the door. The husky, unique chuckle sounded again from the corner, and she knew without looking he must be a part of the crowd gathered around the performing street mime. His voice wrapped around her soul, pressing forbidden memories into the cracked pieces yet to heal. She’d missed that laugh.

Lori’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

Oh, she was sure. Her heart knew his voice—the same voice that serenaded the ripples in the Black Bayou Lake, that sang reassurances when they were ten years old and snuck out to watch a meteor shower and got lost on the way home. The same laugh that echoed across the dirty lake water while splashing waves in her face. No, she wouldn’t forget it—couldn’t. She nodded once.

“Let’s go talk to him.”

“Are you crazy?” Gracie stared at Lori in shock. “I don’t want to talk to him.” Yet some morbid, curious piece of her did.

“He’s famous around this area, Gracie. You’ve gotta admit that’s pretty cool, jerk or not.” Lori craned her head to peer up the street at the patrons gathered around the clown.

Bitterness crept back into the hollow places and Gracie’s fists clenched at her sides. It was always about Carter and his music, never about anything else. Never about his family—the way he hurt them with his rebellion and didn’t care. The way he broke his poor father’s heart by leaving town and never looking back. Never about his schoolwork and responsibilities, never about getting good grades for college, never about the church and the youth group.

Never about her.

His laugh sounded again, rising above the other chuckles in the crowd, and it sounded closer this time. Panic pounded in equal rhythm with her pulse. She couldn’t sit inside the Gumbo Shop now, couldn’t spoon rice from a bowl knowing Carter was mere feet away.

“Let’s just say a quick hello.” Lori tugged at Gracie’s arm. “I want to see the man who’s had you all stirred up for a decade.”

“Seven years.”

“Whatever.” Lori pulled, and Gracie’s feet reacted against her will, following her friend down the cracked sidewalk and up the street to the corner of Royal and Saint Peter—her traitorous heart only an anxious beat behind.

Carter joined in the crowd applauding the mime’s antics, then reached for his wallet and dropped a dollar bill into the box at the clown’s feet. “Great show!”

The mime bowed in his direction and pretended to swipe tears of appreciation from his painted cheeks.

Andy laughed. “See, I told you this was better than reruns on TV.” He elbowed Carter’s arm.

“I never doubted you, man.”

“I really like supporting the entertainment around here. We haven’t had nearly as many acts since Hurricane Katrina.”

“I would imagine not.” Carter moved aside for another couple to drop a handful of change into the box, briefly wondering how much money the mime made on an average day performing. Was he a flood victim? Surely this wasn’t his only job.

It reminded Carter he had a lot to be thankful for—the money he’d saved from his touring days and album releases guaranteed financial security for the next several years, if he was smart. Then he could work a side job and live comfortably while figuring out which path he was to take with his music ministry—while attempting to right the myriad wrongs in his life.

And better yet, not having to touch the inheritance money his father left behind. He didn’t want any money from his father—ever.

Ignoring the tightening in his stomach, Carter turned away from the crowd. “So what’s this about New Orleans cuisine? Are you guys all talk down here?”

Andy puffed out his chest. “Hey, we don’t joke about food in this city. You want some jambalaya? The Gumbo Shop is just around the bend.”

“Lead the way. My stomach will follow.”

Carter moved behind Andy, and a flash of red on the corner caught his eye, hovering under the elaborate ironwork balcony on Royal Street. He blinked, then stared. It was Gracie, standing beside a tall brunette, both of them leaning against the window of an antique gallery and looking right at him.

Gracie ducked behind Lori and turned to face the La-Branche House, heart pounding as she pretended to study the lacy iron scrollwork dripping off the three stories above her head. “Did he see me?”

“Probably. Just go talk to him, for old times’ sake. You know you want to introduce me.”

Oh, right. Gracie allowed Lori to pull her across the corner. Trusted new best friend, meet my backstabbing old best friend. They drew closer and Gracie’s pulse leaped at the sight of Carter’s unruly curls falling across his forehead. It brought another rush of forgotten memories and she paused, nearly yanking Lori backward. “You know, I’d really rather prefer a big bowl of gumbo. I’ll even pay.” She tried to tug her arm out of Lori’s grasp but her friend squeezed tighter.

“No, ma’am. We’re almost there. Then you’ll thank me for getting you past this nightmare.”

More like forcing her through it. Gracie took a shuddering breath and crossed the remaining feet of concrete separating her from her past. A light breeze wafted her hair across her eyes and she tossed her head to free the strands, not wanting to see Carter up close but unable to quell the urge—or Lori’s purposeful march.

Carter looked up as they neared. “Gracie.” Warmth filled his eyes and a nervous shiver inched down her spine. “Hey. Wow, you look great.”

So did he, but that was beyond the point. She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded, her back rigid. “Hi.”

They stared at each other.

A man walking ahead of Carter stopped and turned around. Gracie gasped. “Andy?” The street suddenly seemed much, much too small. “You know Carter?”

“Pastor Andy!” Lori beamed. “Small world, huh?”

“Carter and I were roommates at LSU.” Andy shoved his hands in his pockets and looked from Carter to Gracie, a knowing grin lighting his features. “And I guess you’re Blue—”

Carter stepped forward, bumping Andy with his shoulder. He stretched out his hand toward Lori. “Carter Alexander.”

“Lori Perkins, Gracie’s roommate and friend from work.” They shook hands.

“Well, isn’t this cozy.” Andy smiled. “We were just about to grab some gumbo. You ladies want to join us?”

“Sure.” Lori beamed.

“No, thanks,” Gracie said at the same time.

Gracie exchanged looks with Lori, hoping her friend would catch the hint in her glare, but she instead turned to Carter with an innocent, wide-eyed expression. “So I hear you visited the aquarium yesterday.”

Gracie sucked in her breath. Now Carter would know she had been talking about him. She tucked her hair behind her ears and risked a glance at his reaction.

Surprise crossed his face, followed by…amusement? He nodded once, his shoulders relaxing. “I did.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Gracie wished it wouldn’t be immature to kick Lori in the shin.

“Yes, actually.” Carter’s eyes left Lori’s and collided with Gracie’s. “Beautiful sights.”

Andy snorted, then coughed loudly into his fist.

The heat in Gracie’s face morphed into an inferno, and she wished the sidewalk would swallow her whole—her flaming cheeks, blotchy neck and shaky hands in one big gulp.

Lori pulled in her bottom lip, but a smile poked around the edges of her mouth. “I’m glad you thought so.”

Andy gestured toward Lori and Gracie. “These ladies here have been volunteers with our youth group for over a year now. They’ve been a big help.”

“I’m sure.” Carter smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mind was on something else—Gracie remembered that zoned-out look he’d get before starting a conversation he wished he didn’t have to have. She searched for a way out, a way to backpedal into a new topic. Her mind went blank. Breathe, Gracie. It’s almost over. She’d somehow survive this encounter-that-should-never-have-been and record the entire brutal ordeal in her journal.

Then promptly burn the pages.

Carter cleared his throat, emotion dimming his eyes. “Gracie, it’s been so long, I really—”

“Like we said, we were just heading to dinner.” Gracie quickly gestured over her shoulder. She was being rude, but she couldn’t bear to listen to whatever he had been about to say. Her heart fluttered faster than the humming birds outside her mom’s old garden. “So I guess we’ll see you at church tomorrow night, Andy.”

“Sounds great. Carter will be there, too, playing for the youth.”

Lori’s mouth opened. “I didn’t realize you were this month’s entertainment! I can’t wait to hear you play.”

“Thanks.” Carter smiled, but his disappointed gaze stayed on Gracie’s, searching, seeking—what? Acceptance? Forgiveness?

She flexed sweaty palms at her sides. “It was nice, uh…nice seeing you.”

“You, too—and nice meeting you, Lori. I hope to visit the aquarium again.” He edged back a step.

“How long are you in town?” Lori squinted up at Carter against the fading evening sun.

He shrugged. “Not sure. Why do you ask?”

“Gracie is hosting a fund-raising event at the end of next month. A big Christmas gala, to raise money for a penguin expansion project at the aquarium.” Lori shook off the hand Gracie laid on her arm. “You should come. It’s for a great cause.”

Gracie’s cheeks continued to burn. What was Lori up to? The fund-raiser was none of Carter’s business. Irritation settled in her stomach, replacing her Cajun-food craving.

“Like I said, I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.” He glanced at Gracie, then back at Lori. A slight grin tipped the corners of his mouth. “But I imagine ’bout as long as it takes.”

“Perfect.” Lori tossed back her long hair. “Then you should still be here for the dedication. It’d be great for you to cut the ribbon in honor of your father.”

“My father?” The smile faded from Carter’s face and his eyes darted to Gracie in alarm.

Her heart skipped, then thudded hard against her chest. This wasn’t exactly the way she had planned on telling Carter about the new wing being named after the reverend. In fact, she hadn’t planned on telling him at all. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Did he have to ruin everything that was important to her?

Lori glanced back and forth between Gracie and Carter’s narrowed eyes as if following a tennis match. “I hope that wasn’t a surprise.”

Carter shook his head, but the light remained extinguished from his expression. “It’s not a problem.” The frown between his brows suggested otherwise.

Gracie tugged on Lori’s sleeve. “We better go eat before all the tables are gone.” The restaurant wouldn’t be booming on a weeknight, but she couldn’t look at Carter a second longer.

Lori followed Gracie’s pull and stumbled after her down the street. “See you guys later!”

Gracie tightened her grip on Lori’s shirt and forced a smile at the men standing in their wake.

Not if she could help it.

Chapter Three

“Have you lost your mind?” Gracie’s voice grated with frustration as she pulled her chair away from the table. The legs scratched against the concrete floor of the Gumbo Shop and she plopped into the seat with a glare. Carter and Andy had been seated on the other side of the outdoor patio—at least they’d taken her not-so-subtle hint about preferring to eat separately. Though after Carter’s reaction to the new wing honoring his dad, she was a little surprised he hadn’t turned and fled the city. Abandonment was his middle name, after all.

Lori raised her eyebrows in feigned innocence as she settled across the table and reached for her menu. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Gracie snatched the menu from her friend’s hands and leaned forward, her voice lowering to a hiss. “Are you trying to kill me with embarrassment? There’s got to be a better way to go.”

“Don’t be silly.” Lori took her menu again and opened it. “I’m just helping along the natural course of true love.”

“True love?” Gracie nearly choked on the words. She rested back in the chair and crossed her arms over her thumping heart. “Maybe a decade ago, Lori. Not now. No way.”

“I thought you said it was only seven years.” Lori grinned. “Hey, want to split the crawfish étouffée?”

Gracie shrugged. Annoyed as she was, she had to admit the crawfish sounded pretty good. Her stomach growled on cue. “Fine. Whatever.”

“You still buying?”

Gracie’s throat clenched.

“Just kidding! I know better than that.” Lori laughed. “Maybe I should get dessert to make it up to you. Chocolate brownie pie?”

Gracie chewed on her lower lip. Forgiveness would come at a price, all right—but what better payment than chocolate? “Okay, fine. With ice cream.”

Their truce settled, the girls tucked the menus away and gave drink requests to the waitress.

“So what was that all about?” Lori leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“What was what all about?”

“Carter’s reaction to the new wing’s name. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

Gracie snorted. He probably had, in his mind anyway. No better way to heap shame on a man than by confronting him with one of his biggest mistakes. Served him right. “He was probably ashamed.”

“I thought he left you, not his father.” Lori frowned.

Gracie shrugged and averted her eyes, tired of the painful memories. “He left all of us.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Gracie gratefully stabbed her straw into the ice, glad for the distraction. But Lori wouldn’t let it go.

“Do you think Carter will actually come to the fund-raiser?”

“Not if I don’t officially invite him.”

Lori’s gaze jerked to meet Gracie’s. “What do you mean? You have to!”

“No, I don’t. He wouldn’t want to come anyway. If he did, it’d just be out of pity or some twisted form of obligation.” Besides, she didn’t want the extra headache of Carter’s presence while trying to carry off the important evening. It was bad enough trying to choke down dinner knowing he was two hundred feet away. A lot was riding on the event’s success, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let an unsettling blast from her past rob the penguins of their new home.

That is, if she didn’t single-handedly determine their fate first by holding a gala with no band. She groaned inwardly.

“Well, you still have plenty of time to decide.” Lori set her jaw in that stubborn way of hers.

Gracie crossed her arms, mimicking Lori’s position. Fine, let her friend hope. It wouldn’t do any good, but at least it’d keep the peace for the next few days. Lori would figure it out eventually—when it came to Carter, no meant no. Gracie refused to acknowledge another option.

She was finished putting her hope in him.

“Just so you know, ‘It’s a Small World’ is playing in my head right now.” Andy grinned at Carter across the table at the Gumbo Shop. “Who would have thought the woman you’re so torn up about is none other than our Gracie Broussard?”

Carter glanced over his shoulder, even though he knew there was no way the women could hear them across the noisy restaurant. After Gracie’s obvious lack of interest in eating together, he and Andy gave the girls a head start and requested a table on the other side of the patio. Now the aroma of fresh garlic bread and Cajun cuisine tickled his nostrils, but the weight of seeing Gracie up close did permanent damage to his appetite. He set his fork in his nearly full bowl. “It is pretty weird that she goes to your church. Talk about a coincidence.”

“Maybe it’s more than that.” Andy sipped from his water glass, then squeezed another slice of lemon over the top. “I wouldn’t assume if I were you.”

“Point taken.” He pushed his bowl away.

“Too spicy?”

“Just not hungry.”

“Since when did a woman take away your appetite?”

Carter shrugged with a smile. “Since I grew a conscience.”

“Even guilty people need to eat.” Andy scooped a spoonful of rice onto his spoon.

“With all my regrets, if that wasn’t true I’d be a stick.” Man, he should have searched Gracie out over the past years. But what would he say? The proper apology or explanation still failed him. There just weren’t words adequate enough to express his stupidity, his immaturity—sure, he’d been a high school kid at the time, but no one deserved the treatment he’d given Gracie and his family. No one deserved the prank he played or the things he said that night on the pier—the last time they’d spoken before today. Even if there were reasons behind it that she still didn’t know.

Carter stirred his water glass with his straw. He thought he’d been protecting Gracie when he left. Hindsight, unfortunately, proved that hasty decision had backfired—and pounded the final nail in the coffin of their future.

“Everyone messes up.”

“But not everyone stabs their best friend in the back.” Just one of the many sins on his list. He’d had his chance with Gracie, and ruined it. There might never be full recovery from such a blow, but maybe he could stir up enough of their friendship to remind her of the good times, the times he didn’t make her cry—if she’d let him.

“Gracie’s got a good heart.” Andy wadded his straw wrapper. “I’d give her the benefit of the doubt before you write off any chance of fixing things between you.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Carter stared into the dark rue of his dinner, memories teasing the ripples in the broth. They’d been a good team, once upon a time. For instance, Gracie loved Oreos, but hated the cream filling. So they’d sit on the tall barstools at the counter in his mom’s kitchen and he’d eat the filling while she dunked the plain cookies in milk. Then there were the days spent riding tubes on the lake, camping with his family, and fishing off the pier. They rarely fought as kids, but when they did, Gracie would win from the sheer logic of her arguments. Carter learned early on that keeping up wasn’t worth the effort.

But her stubbornness could go both ways. Gracie was the only girl he knew who didn’t mind baiting her own hook—she’d even beaten him in a youth fishing tournament in sixth grade. The girl could accomplish anything she made up her mind to do, including shutting him out now.

“Did you know she was planning on naming the exhibit after my father?”

“No, she never mentioned that part, but then she didn’t know I knew you. There’s no use dwelling on the past, man. You’re a different person now.” Andy slurped the last of the gumbo from his spoon and leaned back from the table. “You know that, right?”

“Most days I believe it.” Carter started to look over his shoulder again but forced himself to face forward. No more looking back, wasn’t that what Andy was trying to tell him?

“But not today?”

Carter shook his head.

Andy sighed. “I’ll get you a carryout box.”

“You know, it doesn’t matter at this point if Carter comes to the gala or not. There won’t be much of one without any entertainment.” Gracie forced herself to pick her feet up from the floor instead of shuffle. She was trying hard not to have an Eeyore moment—as her mom always used to say when she started a pity party—but it was hard.

“Don’t worry, Gracie. Something will work out.” Lori shifted her Bible to her other hand and looped her free arm around Gracie’s shoulders. “I still think your idea of asking Andy to get the youth group involved was a great one.”

“Guess we’ll find out in a little while.” Gracie walked with Lori through the church office corridor toward the kitchen in the gymnasium. She needed caffeine—no, she needed money—and maybe a massage for the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. So far she had a low advertising budget, a nonexistent decorating budget and no band. She hated to ask what else could go wrong, but really—what else could go wrong?

Lori dropped her Bible and notebook on the counter in the empty gymnasium and turned on the overhead lights. “The kids should be here any minute. You want a root beer? Or Diet Coke?” She moved toward the fridge.

“Diet Coke.” Gracie sank into one of the folding chairs near the counter and laid her Bible on top of Lori’s. She stared at the creased cover. God had always come through for her before—this time shouldn’t be any different. Still, an urgency pressed on her heart. Or maybe it was dread.

Lori shut the fridge door with her hip and slid Gracie’s soda across the counter to her. “Think positively. It shouldn’t be too hard to find another band.”

“A band for what?” Tawny Sinclair, a fellow youth group volunteer, breezed into the gym and headed for the refrigerator, her long brown hair streaming down her back in loose waves. “Any Diet Cokes left?”

“Two.” Lori rested her elbows on the counter in front of Gracie. “We were talking about the situation Gracie mentioned during Bible study earlier tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, the penguin thing?” Tawny flipped her bangs out of her eyes and brought her drink to the counter. “What about it, again?”

Gracie couldn’t help but notice Tawny’s low-cut sweater and hip-hugger jeans, not exactly church attire. Gracie sipped from her Diet Coke and studied the girl over the rim of the can, trying not to judge. Tawny had shown up for Bible study, and that was what really mattered. The rest would come in time.

Though apparently she hadn’t listened all that hard to what was said during group prayer.

“Yes, the penguin thing. Gracie needs a musician for her gala, ASAP.” Lori turned up her root beer, then wiped her mouth with her hand. “Not to mention some cash for the rest of the budget.”

“It’ll work out.” Tawny flicked her fingers in the air, dismissing the topic. “So anyway, did you see that new shoe store that opened on the riverfront? Totally adorable.”

Lori’s face lit. “I did, but haven’t been inside yet. Are they expensive?”

“Not for me.” Tawny opened her drink can with the aid of one manicured red fingernail and smirked.

Lori narrowed her eyes.

“Tawny, what did you think of the women’s class tonight?” Gracie interrupted before whatever thoughts Lori processed could escape. She sent her friend a be nice look. Tawny was still new to the singles group at the church—she seemed to honestly not realize how she came across to others at times, which was another reason why Gracie tried to befriend the girl. Everyone else seemed content to just gossip about her wardrobe choices and flirty behavior.

“It was okay, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you getting involved, I know that’s never easy in a new church.”

“Right. Thanks.” Tawny tucked her leopard print purse out of sight under the row of cabinets. “I guess we better get the snacks set out for the youth, huh?”

“They’d find them even if we hid them.” Lori washed her hands at the sink, then pulled a bulk package of cream-filled cookies from under the counter and began lining them on a tray. “They’re like junk-food magnets. Or vacuum cleaners.”

Gracie set out the paper cups and two-liters of various sodas. “I saw you helping them clean up last week.” She snorted. “If they were vacuums, you were an industrial-strength machine.”

“Whatever.” Lori tossed a broken cookie at Gracie, who caught it just as the gymnasium doors opened with a bang. Several of the youth hustled inside, laughing and shoving each other. Andy followed close behind, Carter on his heels toting a black guitar case.

The cookie slipped from Gracie’s fingers and crumbled on the counter. With all her worries about the gala budget, she’d forgotten about Carter’s performance tonight. But there was no putting it out of her mind anymore—there he was, dressed in worn jeans with shredded knees and a black button-down shirt. His usually rumpled, curly hair was gelled, and he’d shaved yesterday’s dark stubble from his cheeks.

“Breathe,” Lori mumbled, nudging Gracie with her hip as she stowed the cookie bag in the cabinet. She waved and smiled at Andy and Carter, who were moving toward the makeshift stage set up near the front of the gym.

Gracie straightened her shoulders and turned away from the men. “Where are the napkins?” She could do this. She’d just stay busy in the kitchen during Carter’s performance, then focus her attention after the show on the youth and on talking to Andy about fund-raising. No problem.

“Right here.” Tawny spun around from ripping open a bag of chips and handed over the pile of napkins.

Gracie took them from her outstretched hand, then realized Tawny’s gaze had locked on something over her shoulder. She turned to see Carter pulling his guitar from his case and strumming his pick over the strings. The soft melody echoed across the gym, carrying with it a sudden wave of memories.

Tawny’s breath caught and a slow, cat-like grin eased over her features. “Who’s the new guy?”

Chapter Four

Carter wiped a damp palm down the leg of his favorite jeans and reached to adjust his guitar strap. He just fixed it minutes ago, and it hadn’t so much as inched along his shoulder, but he had to do something with his hands while Andy introduced him.

He risked a peek at the rows of teenagers sitting in folding chairs, arranged in front of the makeshift stage composed of wooden boards and a few screws. The amp and speakers were wired up, thanks to the church’s tech guy, and they lined the edges of the gymnasium’s platform exactly as he requested for optimal sound.

Gracie hadn’t joined the crowd on the floor. She was avoiding him, it was evident in her tense shoulders and averted eyes—and the way she kept rearranging what looked to be a perfectly suitable display of snacks. Lori and another brunette had taken seats toward the middle of the rows of teenagers, probably prepared to do crowd control if they grew rowdy. An empty seat remained on Lori’s right. Would Gracie join them later? Carter could only hope.

He flipped his favorite guitar pick between his fingers as he waited for Andy to finish making announcements, but before he could stop it, his traitorous gaze flitted back to Gracie. She was wiping crumbs off the counter into her hand. Crumbs? They hadn’t even eaten yet. Come on, Gracie, give me a chance here. His heartbeat quickened and he sent a quick prayer heavenward for strength. He had to show Gracie who he’d become—or she’d never forgive him.

Andy’s voice booming across the gym jerked Carter back to reality.

“So be sure to look for the Six Flags sign-up sheet on the bulletin board in the office. And now, a man who really needs no further introduction, Mr. Carter Alexander!” Andy turned toward Carter and began to applaud. A few of the teens, mostly girls, jumped to their feet and clapped wildly.

Carter forced a smile to his face and thoughts of Gracie from his mind as he clamored up the stage and adjusted the stand to his level. “Hey, guys.” His voice echoed louder than he meant and he eased off the microphone an inch. “How are we doing tonight?”

A few of the kids yelled back, some jumping up and down, others standing. A few boys in the back sat with arms crossed and scowls tattooed across their faces. Tough crowd. Carter fought another round of nerves. So what if not everyone here loved him? He wasn’t here for his own fame anymore—thankfully, those days were long over.

“Play ‘Lucky Lady’!” A guy with dreads on the front row called above the din. He grinned around a lip piercing.

Carter strummed his pick over the guitar strings. “Lucky Lady” was one of Cajun Friday’s first big hits—unfortunately, the lyrics weren’t exactly appropriate for a church crowd. “Sorry, no can do. What about ‘Peace To You’?” Another Cajun Friday hit, but one Carter had tweaked after the band’s break-up to offer new inspirational meaning.

The crowd cheered. Carter felt his muscles relax as he began the first bars of the familiar tune.

When the night is long and the music fades,

When all hope is gone when I walk away,

I wish peace to you…peace to you…

A few of the girls in the middle of the audience began to sway, arms around each other’s shoulders. A lighter flicked on toward the back of the crowd, and Andy quickly moved to retrieve it, whispering in the boy’s ear before pocketing the evidence with a stern expression.

Carter fought a grin as he continued to sing. Soon the sensation of being back on stage enveloped him with its familiar, welcome presence, and the nervousness fled away. He loosened up after the first verse, rocking out the chorus.

Peace to you, when nothing else is true.

Peace to you, when your world is black and blue.

I wish peace to you, the kind I know by heart…

Can we ever just go back to start?

The lyrics thumped a sudden, painful reminder of Gracie. The music, think of the music—not the lyrics. His fingers slipped on the strings, and he struggled to regain his place.

The teenagers began to sing, picking up the chorus with him toward the end, and they remained standing even after the last note was played. He eased into a familiar worship chorus next, then as the last note filtered through the room, he motioned for them to have a seat.

“Listen, guys, I know some of you are probably wondering why I’m not playing the songs I used to play. I’m sure you realize I’m not a member of Cajun Friday anymore.”

A kid in the back booed, and Carter held up one hand. “I’d like to tell you why.”

The teenagers quieted down, shifting positions in their chairs. Some leaned forward, slight creases between their brows. The nerves bounced back with a vengeance, and Carter swallowed hard. It was one thing to play on stage for hundreds of screaming fans, another to talk to the impressionable youth about their lives. His hands grew clammy, and a hundred doubts flooded his mind. Was he cut out for this? Would they listen to anything he had to say?

At that moment, a slight figure slipped from the kitchen into the dim lighting around the rows of chairs and took the vacant seat between Lori and a young blonde.

Relief rushed through Carter’s stomach in a warm wave and he instantly felt stronger.

Gracie had come.

Gracie fought the shockwave of memory assaulting her senses at the sight of Carter beneath a row of stage lights, guitar in hand, and microphone close to his mouth. How many times had she seen him in that very environment and sat in the front row, praying God would open his eyes to his feelings for her? Carter had to know how she felt all those years, had to know the secret she’d hidden long before she found the guts to confess.

Why had she even come? She’d told herself she’d stay in the back and remain focused on the kids. But something drew her to the chairs, almost against her will. Besides, she ran out of things to rearrange in the kitchen and Andy had started shooting her curious looks.

“You okay?” Lori whispered from her left.

Haley, a high school freshman with long blond braids, leaned forward from Gracie’s other side and shushed them both. Her eyes were wide and she pointed toward the stage, as if shocked they would dare talk in the middle of such a performance.

“Sorry,” Lori whispered. Her eyes locked on Gracie’s and she raised her eyebrows, silently repeating her question.

I’m fine, Gracie mouthed. Lori’s eyes narrowed, but she shifted back in her chair, apparently content to let it go for now.

Gracie faced forward and kept her eyes focused on Carter’s guitar—not his face. She really should pay attention in case any of the teens wanted to talk after the concert. She wouldn’t be much of a role model if they asked questions and she had to admit she hadn’t been listening.

“The decision to quit the band didn’t come easily. I fought what I felt I was supposed to do for weeks. But one night on stage, staring out into the foggy sea of smoking, drinking fans, I just froze. I couldn’t make myself play.” Carter grinned and rubbed his hand over his head. “It’s like all those prayers my mama prayed finally caught up to me.”

The kids snickered and Andy let out a hearty amen from the side of the gymnasium.

“I realized my musical career had become the most important thing in my life, and, well, God doesn’t appreciate idols.” He released a slow breath. “I took a gift the Lord gave me and twisted it into something that dishonored Him.” The crowd hushed and Carter shook his head, staring down at the guitar draped across his torso.

A lump stuck in Gracie’s throat and tears welled in her eyes. She crossed one leg over the other, and the squeak of her chair drew her away from the intensity of the moment. She stared at the stage lights, determined not to cry. Not over him—not again.

“I’m here tonight to encourage you not to make the same mistakes—and not just in music, but with any talent you’ve been given.” A shock of curly dark hair fell over Carter’s forehead and he shook it back with one quick motion, just as he used to do as a teenager. “Don’t abuse the gifts. It’s not worth it.”

Gracie gritted her teeth at the irony all but slapping her across the face. To Carter, music always equaled a freedom of expression and rebellion. Yet now he stood on stage, telling kids not to do the same? It was the same concept of any “been there, done that” testimony, but still hard to swallow.

The inspiration that touched her soul moments ago faded into regret and she ducked her head as Carter led the group in a prayer. She pressed her fingers to her eyes, fighting back tears of betrayal and denial—betrayal of what Carter had done to their friendship, and denial of the emotions still churning beneath the choppy surface of her anger.

The prayer ended without Gracie hearing a word, and she stood woodenly with the others as Carter closed with a rendition of a popular praise song. Andy took the microphone when he was through and thanked him for coming, then announced that snacks and sodas would be handed out in the back of the gym.

The teenagers cheered and jockeyed to be first in line at the counter by the back doors. Gracie followed, hoping Carter wouldn’t see her. She couldn’t talk to him, not with annoying tears still clinging to her eyelashes. She made a beeline for Lori.

“Gracie, wait up!” Carter’s unmistakable voice echoed across the gymnasium floor and she slowed her clipped stride. There was no denying she heard him, the entire gym probably had. She drew a deep breath and turned, fists clenched, ready to fake it until she could pour a few cups of soda and get out of there.

“I’m so glad you were here.” Carter was out of breath as he jogged the remaining steps to Gracie’s side. He grinned, that lopsided smile that used to always buckle her knees.

Tonight, however, her legs remained firmly locked in placed. “No problem, Carter. You did great. I was just about to go serve the food.” She kept her voice tense, her shoulders stiff.

“Let me help you.”

“No really, it’s—”

“Carter!” A breathless female voice sounded from behind.

Gracie turned with relief. Tawny. Now she could make her escape.

Carter eased back a step as Tawny bounced to his side and possessively took his arm in hers, shutting Gracie out with a flip of her ponytail. She ducked at the last second.

“You were fantastic.” Tawny batted her eyelashes. “I hope you’re doing an encore.”

“Actually, no.” Carter tugged his arm free. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I’m Tawny Sinclair.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m an old fan.” She giggled. “But not that old.”

Gracie winced at the shrillness of Tawny’s laugh. “I’m going to pour drinks. See you around, Carter.”

“Gracie, wait—”

“So, you’re the Carter Alexander.” Tawny’s bubbly voice interrupted as Gracie made her escape. “I couldn’t believe it when Gracie told me that was you. I must have somehow missed the announcement that you were coming.”

Gracie hurried out of earshot of Tawny’s exaggerated gushing. No doubt Carter was soaking it up. Of all the sacrifices he’d made, he probably missed the beautiful fan element of his career the most.

She stepped around two teen boys jostling for a slice of sausage pizza and joined Lori at the counter. She wouldn’t be another one of Carter’s groupies. She couldn’t compete with those women in high school, why try now? Nothing had changed.

Gracie glanced up as another one of Tawny’s crystal laughs rang across the gymnasium. Carter smiled down at Tawny, seemingly in no hurry to leave her company or the possessive hand on his arm.

Nope. Nothing’s changed at all.

Chapter Five

Carter couldn’t help but watch Gracie over Tawny’s shoulder—which was good, it gave him somewhere to focus other than on Tawny’s revealing sweater. He didn’t want to seem rude, especially since she was obviously such a dedicated fan, but something about Tawny didn’t seem real—not her personality or hair color.

He forced a smile as she laughed for the hundredth time, and glanced toward the kitchen just as Gracie pulled a slice of pizza free from the dwindling boxes. Those teenagers could eat. If Tawny didn’t stop talking soon, they’d both miss dinner. He tuned in to her words, hoping to end the one-sided conversation.

“—back in, what, 1998? But those guys weren’t nearly as good as your band. You were on your way to the top just a few years ago. I was so devastated when I heard Cajun Friday was splitting, I had to go buy waterproof mascara because—”

It seemed hopeless. The woman hardly took a breath. He needed to get out of there, fast. His stomach growled and he sent another pleading glance toward Lori and Gracie. They were both pouring drinks and didn’t look up.

“Carter, my man!” Andy’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Come help me eat this last pie.”

Saved by the roommate. Carter fought to hide his sigh of relief. “Excuse me.” He patted Tawny’s shoulder and moved aside. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She smiled, flashing a row of even white teeth.

A rush of guilt invaded Carter’s senses. She was just trying to be nice. Tawny wasn’t the first to blabber on in front of their favorite celebrity. She was probably just nervous. He smiled back with more sincerity. “I look forward to it.”

Gracie shouldn’t be jealous. She had no claim on Carter anymore—never did, if she were totally honest. Still, his attention to Tawny did unsettling things to her insides.

She focused on pouring a Dr. Pepper for Haley and handed the young girl an extra napkin. “You’ve got pizza sauce on your chin.”

“Thanks.” Haley swiped at her face and picked up her soda with a grin. “That would’ve impressed the boys, huh?”

“Hey, the way they eat pizza, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“I think Jeremy’s on his sixth piece.”

“Seventh.” They exchanged smiles.

“I’m gonna go dare him to eat eight.” Haley tipped her cup at Gracie. “See ya.”

Gracie screwed the lid back on the two-liter bottle and watched Haley flounce up to Jeremy, a high school junior who had to be at least six-five. He was the star football player. Haley was a JV cheerleader—it was the stereotypical match. They denied their feelings, but their eyes gave it away. That, and the way Jeremy blushed when Haley took the chair next to him.

Had Gracie ever been that young? It felt like eons ago instead of seven or eight years when she and Carter were in the same position—the preacher’s son and the good girl who never missed a service, best friends with secret crushes. Or rather, what turned out to be a one-way crush—hers. Carter had made that explicitly clear.

Gracie shoved the bottle of soda in line with the others and looked away from Haley’s charming giggle. Hopefully their story would turn out better than hers and Carter’s.

“Earth to Gracie.” Lori snagged one of the discarded pizza boxes and began to fold the cardboard corners. “Where are you? Mars or Pluto?”

Gracie glanced at Carter, then away. “More like Memory Lane.” She took a second box and followed Lori’s cue, folding the corners together to start a trash pile.

“Is it a closed tour or can I come along?” Lori grinned.

“I don’t know if you’d want to. It’s not pretty.”

“Most pasts aren’t.”

Gracie blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. “I was hoping the kids in this youth group have an easier time of it than I did.” In more ways than one. Gracie could relate to many of their broken homes. She had grown up without a father. Thankfully her mother had supported her both financially and emotionally, unlike many of these teenagers’ current circumstances. If it hadn’t been for Reverend Alexander, she’d have had no fatherly influence at all.

Lori shrugged. “They might. They might not. Everyone faces their own issues with friendships and relationships growing up.” She stacked the neatly folded boxes on top of each other. “Then there are those of us who wait until we’re in our twenties to get burned.”

“That wasn’t your fault.” No one deserved the treatment Lori’s ex dished out. Anger boiled in Gracie’s stomach at the thought of someone cheating on her best friend. “Jason wasn’t the right guy.”

“Maybe Carter wasn’t, either.”

Gracie’s hands stilled on the containers. She’d never thought of it that way, only considered herself a victim of her best friend’s betrayal. What if Lori was right, and everything that happened between her and Carter was for a reason? Maybe they weren’t supposed to ever be more than what they were.

She shook her head. Too much to process for now. “I need to go talk to Andy about that fund-raising idea.”

“I’ll finish up here.” Lori opened a box to check its contents and her eyes lit up. “Ohhh, look—a stray slice of pepperoni.”

“I don’t know how you stay so thin.”

“It’s all the energy I exert getting excited about food.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down before shoving half the pizza in her mouth.

Gracie walked around the edge of the counter and snatched a pepperoni off the other end of the slice in Lori’s hands. “Wish me luck.”

“You’re lucky I’m not fighting you for that pepperoni.”

“Your support is overwhelming.”

“I’m just kidding.” Lori swallowed her mouthful of food. “Andy will be glad to help, you’ll see. Go for it.”

Gracie wiped her hands on her back pockets and looked toward the pastor, who was throwing a Frisbee with a couple of youth and laughing as it sailed over their heads. Hopefully Andy would see the cause of the gala as worthy as she did, and would be willing to let the youth group help her out—she couldn’t pay them but she could offer them an amazing backstage tour of the aquarium. Of course it still didn’t solve her problem about not having a band, but one issue at a time. If the teenagers would pitch in with advertising and raising funds for the short-changed budget, she might be able to make this work after all.

Tawny breezed up to the counter, bumping into Gracie’s shoulder, and grabbed a two-liter of Diet Coke. “Did you see the way Carter looked at me earlier?” Her words gushed faster than the liquid pouring into her plastic cup. “I so have a chance with him.”

Lori coughed and mumbled something unintelligible around her pizza.

Gracie swallowed the words tightening the back of her throat and forced a smile. “Oh, really?” Maybe if she didn’t look Tawny in the eye, the gorgeous brunette wouldn’t notice how her heart had fallen like a deadweight in her stomach. It was no surprise. Tawny represented a slightly more mature and filled-out version of the girls in high school Carter had never been able to resist.

The memories churned faster than her stomach. Gracie pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the details playing in vivid Technicolor of the night Carter broke her heart. A flash of green from her cashmere sweater, the neon lights from the disco ball hanging from the ceiling of the quarterback’s basement, stacks of blue cups and pink punch and gold class rings. Watching Carter—her date to his senior party—press a varsity cheerleader into the corner of the wall with a kiss. She’d approached him, hurt covered in anger’s thin disguise, until another girl’s catty voice stopped her midpursuit.

“You know you’re not his real date, right?”

The lights from the disco ball seemed to spin faster as Carter turned away from the cheerleader and caught Gracie’s eye across the room. He mouthed her name and she stared, not wanting to hear the rest of the girl’s explanation but unable to move.

The tipsy blonde continued, her words slurred but unforgettable. “He made a bet you wouldn’t come with him. Not Ms. Goody-Goody Church Girl.” She snorted and beer splashed from the edge of her glass. “Guess you’re not very different from us after all, huh?”

The impact of the girl’s words hit Gracie about the same time as the football player stumbling into her side. She caught her balance on the staircase banister and tried to ignore the lewd gaze he raked over her. “Whoa, I should have bet Carter more than a hundred bucks. You’re worth at least one fifty.” He leered. “Think he’ll mind sharing?”

He reached for her, but Gracie shoved away and pounded up the stairs, the taunts and catcalls of the party ringing in her ears as she made her escape—Carter’s laugh echoing the loudest of all.

“It’s just a matter of time until he asks me out.” Tawny’s voice jerked Gracie from her unwanted instant replay of the past. “Hey, you all right? You look a little red.”

Gracie blinked and realized her hands were clenched into fists. She drew a deep breath, willing the emotion to ease from her throat and avoided Lori’s look of concern. She straightened her shoulders. “Never better.”

She had a job to do—get Andy on board for the aquarium gala. The past would have to stay behind her.

And so would Carter Alexander.

Carter leaned against the wall under the basketball hoop and swallowed his last bite of cheese pizza. At a table in front of him, three high school boys wearing backward baseball caps and T-shirts laughed as they tried to see who could sink a napkin in a cup of soda first. Beside them, two older kids with multiple tattoos lining their arms finished off their dinner while discussing the youth group’s limited options of dating material.

“The blonde with the braids is pretty hot.” The teen with the spiky hair glanced over his shoulder toward a crowd of laughing students.

The second boy scoffed, his eyebrow ring shining under the fluorescent gymnasium lights. “That’s Jeremy’s girl. Everyone knows that.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” But Spiky Hair’s eyes darted to the large football player and back. “Whatever. What about Jay-Lynn?”

“Parents won’t let her date ’til she’s sixteen. Got six more months.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah, it stinks. Almost as much as the music tonight.”

Carter straightened from his position on the wall. These guys didn’t enjoy his songs? He edged a step closer.

Spiky Hair seemed just as shocked. “What do you mean, man? You don’t like Carter’s stuff?”

“I don’t see why he had to give up the good music. This new stuff is boring. He could have been a mega star.” The kid with the piercing shrugged. “I just don’t get it.”

Disappointment crowded the pizza in Carter’s stomach. Should he approach the boys and try to explain his decision, or let it go?

The choice was made for him when they both abruptly stood with their trash. “Let’s see if that Bruce Willis movie is still playing at the theater.”

“Sounds good to me.” The boys moved toward the trash cans.

Carter watched them wave goodbye to Andy and slip out the side doors. A late movie, in the middle of the week? It was a school night. Things sure had changed from when he was a teenager. His parents would have never let him out after the youth service, even after he had his driver’s license. Maybe these boy’s parents didn’t know where they were—or didn’t care.

He shook off the melancholy as he glanced around the gym. Several of the kids were still eating, and a few kicked a hacky sack around in the back of the room. Did the rest of them feel the same way about his music as Spiky Hair and Eyebrow Ring? He’d hoped they’d see past the sacrificed fame and into the heart of who he’d become. It seemed as though Gracie had missed that particular message, as well.

Maybe he could hang around awhile longer, bum with Andy and try to get more involved with the youth group. He didn’t want his concert to be a waste. What if God had more for him at L’Eglise de Grace than he realized? It was definitely something to consider.

He crumpled the napkin he’d used as a plate in one fist and headed toward Andy, who had his back turned talking to—Gracie? Carter’s steps slowed. He didn’t want to interrupt. From the look on Gracie’s face the subject was serious. But then again, how serious could it be if Haley and Jeremy were at the other end of the table? He slid into the chair next to Andy, across from Gracie, and smiled.

Gracie’s blue eyes flitted briefly to his and then back to Andy. Dismissed. He ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Hey, man, get enough pizza?” Andy slapped Carter a high five.

“Is there such a concept?”

“Good point.” Andy held up one finger. “Sorry, Gracie, you were saying about a fund-raiser?”

“I just think it could be really beneficial for everyone—the penguins, the kids and me—if the youth group got involved. You’re always searching for a community project for them to participate in.” Gracie licked her lips and Carter fought the urge to swipe a smear of pizza sauce from the corner of her mouth.

If they’d still been in high school, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Probably would have licked his own finger and rubbed it right across her chin, just to get her girlie, disgusted reaction.

The difference was, in school he wouldn’t have been tempted to kiss those same lips. Now, it was all he could think about. It’s not your place anymore—you missed that chance. He shifted positions in the metal folding chair and tried to focus on Andy’s words.

“Sounds fine to me, Gracie. I think a project would be great for them right now. Some of the youth seem a little restless. They need a goal, and what could be a worthier cause?” Andy tapped his fingers on the table. “You just tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure we get volunteers ASAP.”

“Thanks!” Gracie’s eyes lit and she leaned forward against the table. “This is such a relief. You have no—”

“I’ll help, too.” The words flew from Carter’s mouth before he could fully process them.

“You?” Gracie’s brow furrowed. “But don’t you have to get back home?”

Hadn’t he just thought about talking to Andy about staying in town longer? What better opportunity to be a positive influence to the youth group than working side by side with them on a common goal—and if that same goal brought him closer to Gracie…Besides, maybe if he stuck around, he could dissuade Gracie from naming the wing after his father.

Carter smiled. “I’d be happy to. That is, if Andy doesn’t mind having a roommate for a while longer.”

“No way, man, that’d be awesome. It’s a plan.” Andy slapped both hands on the table. “Now we just need a sign-up sheet.”

“A plan,” Gracie echoed as she stood. “Right.”

Carter ignored the dismay dripping from her voice. It stung a little now, but after she spent more time around the new Carter, she’d warm up to the idea—and hopefully to him.

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