the powers that be, and every night was another opportunity for excitement, fun, and passion.
From the start of his representation, Pete Jeffries encouraged her to slow down, to spend more time working on her music and less time playing rich and famous, but she didn’t listen. He sounded too much like her stick-in-the-mud father, and she didn’t need another one of those. She had her freedom and her inheritance, and she meant to —
“Here you go, sweetie.”
Roxy looked at the platter of food on the counter, for a moment uncertain of her surroundings.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” The waitress studied her, a worried look in her eyes.
Delicious odors wafted toward Roxy’s nose. Her mouth watered. “No thanks.” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “This will be fine.”
“All righty. Holler if you change your mind.”
Roxy opened her eyes and stared at the juicy steak, the yellow and white circles of fried eggs, and the browned, shredded potatoes, almost afraid to take her first bite for fear the food wouldn’t mea- sure up to the promise of satisfaction.
And how pathetic was that?
R
OXY
April 1981
“Hey, birthday girl.” Mama stepped into Roxy’s bedroom. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Can’t sleep.” “Too much cake?”
Roxy shook her head against the fluffy pillow.
“Too excited?” She nodded.
Mama walked to the bed and sat near Roxy’s feet. Smiling, she touched the guitar lying on the bed. “Do you plan to keep that with you all night?”
“Maybe.” Roxy giggled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Will you teach me to play tomorrow? I wanna play like you.” “It isn’t that easy, honey. It’ll take lots of practice and lots of lessons.” Mama moved to the head of the bed and drew Roxy up beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “But if you work
hard, someday you’ll play better than me.” “I’ll work really hard. I promise.”
Mama kissed Roxy on the top of her head. “You know, I got my first guitar for my sixth birthday, just like you. But for Christ- mas one year, long before you were born, your daddy gave me the guitar I have now. It’s my favorite, and I take very good care of it. You’ll want to do the same.”
Roxy stifled a yawn as she nestled closer. She loved the way her mama smelled. Like warm sugar cookies.
“Would you like me to sing you to sleep?”
“Yes, please.” She smiled as her eyes drifted closed.
Mama hummed a few notes, and then began to sing, some- thing about a rugged cross and crowns. Roxy was fast asleep before the last verse.
Three
The chapel at Believers Hillside Fellowship served as the meeting place for the youth group. It had seating for three hundred, and a good portion of those seats were occupied on this Sunday evening.
Wyatt was surprised to find himself more nervous now, about to face these teenagers, than he was the night he asked Elena to marry him, nine days before.
“We have a special guest tonight.” Lance Roper, the youth pas- tor, smiled at the assembly, a mixture of teens and adults. “Many of you heard the announcement this morning that one of our elders, Wyatt Baldini, has been called into full-time ministry and will be attending seminary in the near future. I didn’t know about that when I asked him to give his testimony tonight, but the Lord did.” He motioned for Wyatt to join him on the platform. “Come on up, Wyatt.”
Elena gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled at her in return.
A minute later, standing behind the acrylic podium, Wyatt said a silent prayer, asking God to settle his nerves, then began. “I appreciate Lance’s invitation to be with you tonight. I haven’t done much public speaking. An odd confession for someone who feels called to preach, I guess.”
He reached for the bottle of water Lance left for him and took a quick sip.
“As I look at the youth in this sanctuary, I think how fortunate you are to be part of a church like Believers Hillside. When I was your age, I hadn’t been inside a church more than two or three times in my entire life. It wasn’t until I met the Burke family — ” he nodded toward Elena — “that that changed.”
Wyatt remembered when Roxy
⎯
his new girlfriend
⎯
took him home to meet her father. There Wyatt was, a senior in high school, with his freshman girlfriend. He could still see the disap- proval in Jonathan Burke’s eyes. Wyatt knew the look. He was the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Fathers wanted more for their daughters than guys like him. To be fair, Jonathan’s disap- proval had more to do with Wyatt’s swaggering, bad-boy attitude and Roxy’s tender age than with where Wyatt grew up or who his parents were.
“My dad took off when I was a kid, and my mom struggled to hold things together for me and my little sister. We lived in low- cost housing and moved a lot. We were often on food stamps. My clothes came from secondhand stores. I resented all the things we didn’t have, and that resentment put me on the road toward trou- ble. I was cocky, rebellious, and itching for a fight most of the time. But I also had a burning desire to make a better life for myself. I decided I wanted to be a lawyer so I’d make a lot of money, and I knew if that was going to happen, I had to keep my nose clean and get good grades so I could get a college scholarship. Money may not have been the best motive for going into law, but it kept me out of trouble, so I’m thankful.”
It amazed Wyatt, when he looked back over his life, the way God orchestrated circumstances and situations long before Wyatt knew Him.
“When I met Jonathan Burke, one of the first things he did was invite me to come to church with him and his daughters. I resisted for a long time, but he wore me down.”
Him and Elena.
Again, Wyatt made eye contact with his fiancée.
Thank you.
During the turbulent years when Roxy was Wyatt’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Elena became his good friend. She was a quiet and steady confidante for both him and her sister. Even before
Wyatt found faith in Christ, he understood there was something unique about Elena.
“I’d love to stand up here and tell you that as soon as I walked through the church doors I got saved, but that’s not how it hap- pened. I went for one reason only
⎯
to please the Burkes.”
He gave his head a slight shake. It hadn’t pleased Roxy. Churchgoing — her own or his — had
never
pleased Roxy. She’d chafed under any restriction and saw her father’s faith as the biggest restriction of all.
“I partied a lot while I was in college. I made a lot of bad choices. It’s a miracle, especially when I was drinking, that I didn’t kill myself or somebody else in my recklessness. But somehow, by the grace of God, I didn’t. Somehow I managed to keep my grades up, hang onto my scholarship, and graduate.”
Wyatt paused and took another sip of water while wondering if he was saying enough or too much.
“Romans 8:28 says that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love Him and are called accord- ing to His purpose. I can’t say that I’ve worked out all the questions I have regarding predestination and free will, about how God’s in control but I’m still free to choose. I’m sure I won’t understand all the theology until I’m in heaven. What I do know is that somehow God takes my mistakes, my stupid choices, my failures, and even my successes and the pride that can go with them, and when I trust Him with it all, He turns it into good results in my life. I don’t mean that makes my life easy or that I don’t have to suffer the consequences when I do dumb things. I mean God uses those things for His purposes.”
He raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “Long before I understood the ways God led me to Him, I was
changing. I quit drinking for one. I was kinder to my mom and my
sister. After passing the bar, I worked hard in the firm where I was employed. And I kept looking at the Christians who’d entered my life and realized they had something I didn’t have.”
He continued speaking, telling his audience about the Sunday morning when understanding dawned, causing all that had been spoken from the pulpit to make sense. Words he’d heard in his head were suddenly heard in his heart too.
“Everything changed for me in that moment,” he said, feeling the wonder anew. “The scales that blinded me fell off my eyes. I fell in love with God and His Word. And I fell in love with God’s people.”
He’d thought he was in love with Roxy Burke. Not the crazy, mixed-up, lustful relationship they had going for so long, but the kind of love a guy could build a life on. Only the last thing she’d wanted was “a Bible-thumping boyfriend who’s as much of a stuffed shirt as my dad.” She left for Nashville not long after that.
Once again he looked at Elena, marveling at the hand of God in his life. He didn’t deserve Elena’s love, and it amazed him that she gave it to him anyway, knowing all she did about him.
“The Bible says God created us anew in Christ Jesus so that we could do the good things He planned for us from the begin- ning of time. And you don’t have to be called to the pastorate or to full-time missionary work in a Third World country to do the good things He planned for you. You can be a Jonathan and Elena Burke in someone’s life. It’s easier than you think to share the love of God with somebody who doesn’t know Him. That person could end up like me, changed forever.” He gave a quick nod. “Thanks for listening.”
He left the platform and returned to sit beside Elena.
There were tears in her eyes as she leaned close to him. “That was wonderful, Wyatt. I’m so proud of you.”
No, he didn’t deserve her, but he was glad God brought them together all the same.
=
It was raining cats and dogs outside the Greyhound terminal.
Roxy stood near the windows, staring into the darkness of night, watching rain splatter against the glass. Her bus wouldn’t depart until 11:00
P
.
M
.
Anxiety clawed at her belly. She wished they were on their way already. She was afraid she would change her mind. That she would cash in her ticket and stay in Nashville rather than go home a failure.
She almost laughed. Stay and do what? She no longer had an apartment to live in. Dump though it was, it had provided a roof over her head, and the landlord was a halfway decent sort. Besides, even with her new clothes, she looked awful. Who would hire her? Her only real qualification was as a waitress, and she wasn’t much good at that. She’d been fired from four of her last six jobs.
No, like it or not, she was homeward bound.
Above the noise of the rain outside and the passengers inside, she heard Shania Twain’s voice on the terminal’s sound system. It was an older song, one Roxy had performed a few times.
She leaned her forehead against the glass and closed her eyes, letting the melody flow through her. She pictured herself, strum- ming the guitar that had once been her mother’s, standing in the spacious living room of her first Nashville apartment, playing and singing for her new friends. Oh, she’d been on top of the world back then.
There was a time when Roxy performed for others at the drop of a hat. She’d been known to hop onto a table in a bar, belt out the latest hit, and never hit a wrong note. Now she couldn’t remember the last time she sang.
When did she lose it? When did the heart go out of her?
But even as she asked herself that, she knew. Knew because she couldn’t get the memory out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried.
The heart went out of her about the same time she hocked her mother’s guitar.
F our
Jonathan Burke’s office was located on the fourth floor of the downtown department-store headquarters. The large room had a bank of ceiling-to-floor, north-facing windows that afforded a fine view of the mountains.
He often stood and stared out those windows, enjoying the changing colors of the seasons, thanking God for the beauty of nature that surrounded Boise. But the view brought him no plea- sure this morning. His spirit was too troubled to appreciate the pale blue of the sky or the splash of green on the foothills or the absence of snow near Schaeffer Butte.
He’d dreamed of his younger daughter last night. She was in trouble, surrounded by a circling darkness that sought to suck her into its vortex. It was a familiar dream, but familiarity didn’t weaken its ability to disturb him.
“Come home, Roxy. I don’t care how or why. Just come home.” He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head. “Send her home, Lord. Let her know I love her. Don’t let her stay away because of me.”
Roxy didn’t understand unconditional love. Jonathan had faced that truth after she left for Nashville. The knowledge broke his heart. How had he failed to communicate the depths of his love? She was his wild child, his Roxy, blown by the wind, headstrong and willful. Almost from the cradle, she’d challenged authority. Father and daughter had butted heads at every turn. She’d frus- trated him beyond measure.
But she was his daughter, and he loved her. His Roxy. Talented, beautiful, fearless, daring — and wounded.
By her mother’s untimely death.
By her father’s constant failure to understand her.
If he had it all to do over
⎯
“Dad? Have you got a minute?”
At Elena’s voice, Jonathan turned. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Come in.”
“I received the reports from Barbara Canfield at the San Diego store, and I wanted to run some ideas by you.” She walked toward his desk, a thick file folder held in the curve of her left arm.
Now this daughter . . . Elena he understood. She was so like him — confident, decisive, pragmatic. They often communicated without speaking a word.
Perhaps that was one reason Roxy felt left out. She was differ- ent from both her father and sister. He should have told her how like her mother she was, how much they looked alike and sounded alike. Had he ever done that? Had he ever told her that when he saw her playing the guitar or heard her laughter or smelled her vanilla- scented cologne he was reminded of Carol?
“Is something the matter, Dad?”