The Prodigal Comes Home. Kathryn Springer

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      “How long has it been since you two have seen each other?” Matthew asked Zoey.

      Zoey stiffened, searching for undercurrents of suspicion in the husky voice. Zoey tried to tell herself it only made sense that his concern would be centered on her grandmother now.

      But he probably thought that she had shown up, circling like a vulture, to determine just how sick her grandmother was. He’d seen the condition of her Jeep. The clothing piled in the backseat. More than likely she was down on her luck. Looking for someone to take care of her.

      The thought turned Zoey’s stomach.

      She wouldn’t try to explain that the reason she’d come back was to give, not take.

      It wouldn’t make any difference. As soon as he left, the good pastor would no doubt ask around town—find at least a dozen people who would cheerfully supply all the gruesome details of her past—and he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

      KATHRYN SPRINGER

      is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since! She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.

      The Prodigal Comes Home

      Kathryn Springer

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      “He put a new song in my mouth,

       a hymn of praise to our God.

      Many will see and fear

       and put their trust in the Lord.”

      —Psalms 40:3

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      She shouldn’t have come back.

      The thought raced through Zoey Decker’s mind the moment she spotted a square, unassuming green road sign sprouting from the snow-covered ditch.

      Mirror Lake—3 miles.

      Spots began to dance in front of her eyes and she stomped on the brake, wrestling the Jeep onto the side of the road. Maybe she should get out of the vehicle for a few minutes. Stretch her legs.

      A bracing March wind pinched Zoey’s cheeks as she bailed awkwardly out of the driver’s seat and started down the road, fatigue adding weight to her limbs.

      For the past few hours, she’d been telling herself that she’d made the right decision. Now—only a few minutes from her destination—she was having second thoughts.

      Zoey’s gaze locked on the sign again.

      What was that old saying?

      You can’t go home again?

      But Mirror Lake had never been home. Not really. It just happened to be the town where her grandparents had retired. The place her parents had dumped her off because they didn’t know how to deal with a full-blown case of teenage rebellion.

      And even though Zoey had only lived in Mirror Lake two short years—which must have seemed more like a lifetime to her sixty-five-year-old grandparents—she had definitely made her mark.

      A black one…

      “Are you lost?”

      Zoey whirled around at the sound of a voice behind her. A low, masculine rumble that had her questioning her impulsive decision to stop on a quiet stretch of road sandwiched between two imposing walls of towering white pine.

      With not a house in sight.

      She hadn’t expected to see anyone. Not this early in the morning. And especially not a man, who’d materialized seemingly out of nowhere.

      Zoey caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the six-foot-tall obstacle that now stood between her and the safety of the Jeep. Chiseled features, tousled dark-blond hair. The lean but muscular frame of someone who probably earned his living outdoors.

      Under

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