The Come to Me Complete Collection: Contemporary Christian Romance

by Leah Atwood

“Am I that tiresome?” she asked in jest.

  “Not at all—I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice deep with sleepiness. “I should have been in bed hours ago, but couldn’t bring myself to end the call. Gracie’s been waking up at four every morning for a week.”

  12:13 flashed from her alarm clock. “I didn’t realize it was after midnight. Go get some sleep.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning,” he mumbled, sleep taking over. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” she whispered into the phone as she disconnected the call.

  Chapter 4

  Morning came too early. Like clockwork, at four o’clock on the dot, Gracie came to his room, tapping him on the shoulder to wake him up. Less than four hours of sleep. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake his mind and body. Why had he stayed up so late? Then he remembered. Sophie. They’d been talking, and he hadn’t wanted to hang up with her. Still half asleep, a languid grin spread across his cheeks.

  “Daddy, are you going to get up?” Sophie shook his arm.

  “I’m working on it, Sweet Pea. Go get your butterfly blanket and we’ll watch one of your movies.” There was a time, not too long ago, he’d just be going to bed at this hour. Man, how quickly life can change.

  Two arm stretches later, he rolled out of bed and shook his legs, trying to get the blood flowing. He slipped a T-shirt over his head and met Gracie in the hallway. Picking her up, he carried her downstairs. With any luck, he could relax in the recliner with her curled up in his lap for the next hour.

  After he had a dose of caffeine.

  He dropped Gracie off in the chair and padded into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Thank goodness he’d bought Gram the new coffee maker for Christmas. Her old one took until the afternoon to finish brewing a pot. That could have been an exaggeration, but it had taken a long time, especially on the early mornings like these.

  Within minutes, the pot finished brewing. He poured a cup and kept it straight black. Carefully, despite shuffling feet, he carried it with him into the family room, grabbed the remote and sat down in the recliner. Gracie climbed up on him, curling up and laying her head against his chest. He turned on the television and lowered the volume to barely audible. Mornings weren’t made for him, but the time with his daughter was priceless and worth every minute.

  Several minutes passed until Gracie’s breath fell into a steady, even pattern. The coffee beckoned him to take a drink, but closing his eyes sounded better. A few minutes, that’s all he’d rest them for. Gracie shifted. His eyes opened—she was rubbing her nose, still asleep. He closed his eyes again, thoughts of Sophie filling his mind.

  She was at one of his concerts, watching him from backstage. Then the stadium emptied. Only Sophie and he remained. Slowly, shyly, she came out to join him onstage. He was singing a song, a ballad of sorts, just for her. The spotlights shone on her, illuminating the reddish hues of her dark brown hair. When he came to the chorus, she joined in, coming closer to him before he was blinded by a bright light.

  Startled into wakefulness, bright rays of sunlight shot into the living room, directly into his line of vision. Darkness no longer cloaked the sky. How long was he asleep? He jumped up, going in search of Gracie, following his nose to the kitchen. Gram was awake, behind the stove and cooking breakfast. Bacon, biscuits and gravy. Not the healthiest meal by any standards, but Gram was known to spoil Gramps occasionally with his favorites.

  “What time was Gracie up this morning?” Gram asked.

  “Four again. Where is she? I closed my eyes for a second when she fell back asleep, not expecting to as well.”

  “Up in her room playing. She slept until a half hour ago.”

  “Thanks for looking after her.” He scratched his chin. “What time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Gram.”

  His grandmother picked up a plate and loaded it down with food. “Sit down, Bryce,” she instructed. She placed the food in front of him. “It’s no secret that Gracie’s been up early every morning this week. Gramps and I are here to help—you’re not alone in this.”

  Bryce exhaled a long, slow breath. “And I appreciate it more than words can say. But I’m missing so much of her life, have missed too much already. She’s my responsibility.”

  “You need to find a nice young woman.” She tsked tsked. “Get married, settle down.”

  “Gram,” he groaned. She’d been giving him that same talk since well before he knew of his daughter. “Actually,” he began, deciding to come clean. “I met a girl.”

  “Really?” His grandmother’s eyes perked up. “Locally or on tour or from Nashville?”

  He didn’t miss the hint of derision in her voice. Gram didn’t think it possible for him to meet a woman of morals and high standards while on the road. She was probably right. “At the park.”

  “With Gracie?” She took a seat, her keen eyes watching him with interest.

  “Last week when I took Gracie to feed the ducks. I sort of had to warn her from a crazed duck.”

  Gram’s eyebrows crinkled and she tilted her head. “Pardon me?”

  Starting with the duck incident and continuing through last night’s conversation, he filled Gram in on Sophie. He might have rambled on, unable to stop talking about her. “I’m taking her out tonight while Gracie’s with you at church.”

  “Does she know about you?”

  “Not until yesterday. She knows what I do, about Gracie and what happened with her mom.”

  “That progressed rather quickly.”

  Bryce couldn’t figure out what Gram was thinking. He’d thought she’d be happy.

  “I really like her, Gram. She’s different. Fresh, pure.”

  “All the more reason to tread carefully.”

  And there it was. “It’s one date.”

  “Yet, you’ve already told her about your daughter, of whom you haven’t even told your parents.”

  “Mom and Dad are a different situation,” he protested, despite his quiet recognition that there was a ring of truth to what she’d said.

  “They are, and I’m sorry they’re not here for you.” Gram reached out and laid a wrinkled hand on his with a compassionate touch. “Sophie sounds wonderful. There’s nothing I’d like more than to see you settled and happy, but from what you’ve said, she is sheltered and innocent. That’s not a bad thing whatsoever, but your situation is completely opposite.”

  “My life is far from perfect. I’ve made more mistakes than I can count, but it’s one date,” he repeated. “What’s wrong with getting to know her?”

  Gram sighed with the wisdom of age. “Unless you haven’t told me a change in plans, you’re leaving in a week.”

  “And every chance I get I’ll be back here.” A dejected feeling settled in his gut. He hadn’t expected the opposition from Gram.

  “Did you tell her how soon you’ll be leaving?”

  “No.” He hung his head. The truth was, he hadn’t told her, afraid that would put a stop to anything before it began. Yes, there was an implicit understanding that he would leave—it was all part of the job. But maybe he should have said something…

  She stood, giving him a kiss on his cheek. “Follow your heart, my dear boy, but be mindful of Sophie’s as well. Your Gram may be old, but her eyesight is perfect. Tell yourself what you want, but it’s not just one date.”

  “Did Gracie have breakfast already?” He needed a change of subject.

  “Yogurt with fresh cut strawberries.”

  He reached for a biscuit and when he took a bite it melted in his mouth. He had to concede one issue to Gram. It wasn’t one date that he wanted. The length of time since he’d met Sophie was of no consequence. He knew what he felt, and he wanted to know her better. Everything else would fall into place. At least that’s what he was banking on.

  Gracie bounded down the steps, a doll in each hand. “Will you dress up the dolls with me?” She handed him a plasti
c-bodied doll with yarn for hair.

  “What’s this one’s name?” he asked.

  “Lizzie. There’s a little girl in Sunday school named Lizzie and she has blonde hair like my doll. Isn’t that a nice name, Daddy?”

  “Yes, it is, Sweet Pea.”

  “You have to come to my room. That’s where all the clothes are.”

  “Sit down and tell me all about your dolls while I finish eating, then we’ll go play.” For the next fifteen minutes, he listened to his daughter tell him everything there was to possibly learn about her two favorite dolls. He didn’t realize dolls could be BFFs. For that matter, he didn’t know his five-year-old even knew what a BFF was.

  There were moments, such as these, when he was struck with how much she reminded him of Shelly. The same exuberance, the vivid imagination. The big round eyes with cobalt centers. Man, he missed Shelly. He thought back to the first time he’d met her. They were only six, right at an age when girls and boys thought the other had cooties, but that didn’t stop their friendship. They both ran around the playground, launching right into a game of pretend, imagining they were pirates looking for treasure.

  A week later, when school started, they were in the same homeroom. Soon, they were inseparable. When her dad was transferred a few years later, they defied the odds and stayed in contact. In high school, her dad was transferred back to the Richmond area, and she’d stayed when he retired and moved to Florida with her mom.

  Constantly, he found himself fighting the what-ifs, but all the what-ifs in the world wouldn’t bring Gracie’s mom, his best friend, back. They’d never been in love, but he’d loved her for the friend she’d been. The night they’d come together had been poor judgment. What they had done was wrong, but it wasn’t a mistake.

  Gracie could never be a mistake. He refused to think of her in such terms.

  After swallowing the last bite of his breakfast, he stood and took his plate to the sink. He rinsed it off, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and then followed Gracie up the stairs. Gram had decorated the Gracie’s room with what she called shades of lavender and lilac. In one corner was a dresser painted white to match the posts of the headboard. A handstitched quilt with purple rings was spread over the mattress. Against the far wall, on opposite sides of the window, were a five-shelf bookcase and a toy box.

  Doll clothes were arranged on the floor, separated into piles by tops, bottoms, shoes and accessories. Gracie had obviously thought out her plans for him this morning. With an amused chuckle, he sat cross-legged on the floor, putting tiny clothes onto a doll. If the guys ever got wind of this, they’d never let him hear the end of it. Except from Adam, who had a little girl of his own, a few years younger than Gracie.

  When his phone rang an hour later, he cringed. Caroline. This time, he let it go to voicemail, but he’d have to call her back today. It wasn’t fair to anyone for him to leave them hanging. In a little while he would call back, when Gracie was done dressing her dolls.

  “I’m thirsty,” Gracie said after two hours of playing. “Can I have a drink?”

  “How does a strawberry lemonade sound?”

  “That’s my favorite. Can I have a crazy straw in my cup?”

  “You’ve got it. Want to drink it outside on the swing?”

  “Will you sit with me?”

  He tweaked her cheek. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Drinks in hand, they sat down together on the wooden porch swing. Since Gracie’s legs weren’t long enough to reach the planks of the porch, he used his feet to sway them back and forth.

  “I miss Mommy.” Gracie’s admission caught him off guard.

  A ball lodged in his throat. “Me too,” was all he could say.

  “I like it here, though. Gramps and Gram are fun and play with me. So do you. Mommy was too sick to play with me.”

  Bryce covered his mouth with a hand, afraid he’d lose control and curse. Gracie was so young, too young, to understand. And it wasn’t fair. A five-year-old shouldn’t have to think about why her mom couldn’t play with her.

  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Slowly exhaling, he formulated a response. “Your mom loved you more than anything. There was nothing she enjoyed more than being with you, but sometimes bodies get sick and they can’t do what the heart wants.”

  “Are you sick? Is that why you can’t always stay with me?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes too intense for a child her age.

  Pains of regret stabbed his heart. He pulled Gracie to him and she curled up against his side. “No, Sweet Pea, Daddy’s not sick. He just has to go to work.” Something had to change. Soon. There had to be a balance somewhere, waiting for him to find it.

  Temporarily consoled that he wasn’t sick, she jumped up and went chasing after a butterfly. That overwhelming sensation came over him, the one where he was on the crest of a wave, being swept under as it crashed. By the world’s standards, he had it all. They couldn’t see his struggle to discover himself, find his place in this new world he’d entered, both as a dad and a Christian, in a world that didn’t champion either.

  For some reason, he’d thought once he came to Christ, his life would fall into place. He hadn’t realized that was only the beginning. Without his newfound faith, he didn’t even want to think where he’d be today, but it had come at a price. It meant changing his entire life, and that wasn’t an instantaneous process. Even before his spiral to the bottom after Shelly’s death, he’d been living in the fast lane. The temptations were still there. They didn’t disappear—no, sometimes they came at him even stronger.

  An image of Sophie materialized in his mind. She was a girl who knew where she belonged, and he envied her that. Yesterday, during their conversation, was the first time in a year he hadn’t felt lost. She hadn’t judged or placed blame. Instead, she listened. He opened up, much more than he probably should have. Yet she stayed, pressed further into the conversation. The mysterious connection between them startled him, not necessarily in a bad way. Maybe he did need to proceed with caution, but how? He couldn’t ignore what he felt.

  Gracie still ran happily through the yard, now pretending she was a butterfly. Her arms flapped up, then down, her ponytail streaming behind her. Bare feet tapped against the grass, her lack of fondness for shoes another trait inherited from her mother. Watching her play, in such an innocent and unrestrained fashion, restored a measure of peace to his troubled thoughts. He needed to get out of his own head—Gracie was good medicine for that.

  Noon was approaching, and he hadn’t called Sophie. He slid his phone from his pocket, and called her, smiling when he remembered his song was set as her ring tone. Not in an egotistical way—okay a tad bit of that—but because it’d been Come to Me Alive, the song he’d written that meant the most to him and had the most personal lyrics. It was the first song he’d written after becoming a Christian and was symbolic of the changes in his life.

  “Hi,” she answered. “I was just about to send you a text.”

  When she spoke, it was a good thing he couldn’t see himself in the mirror because he was pretty sure the cheese factor of his grin would nauseate him. “I was going to call earlier, but I was busy dressing up dolls.”

  “Had anyone else said that it would probably weird me out.” A small laugh transferred through the line.

  “Life with a five-year-old, what can I say? She’s running around pretending to be a butterfly now.”

  “I used to do that. My mom bought me a pair of blue wings and I’d play for hours with them. Thought I could actually fly until I jumped off the dog house and sprained my ankle.”

  His eyes followed Gracie as he talked, making sure she didn’t run off. “That surprises me. You don’t strike me as the jump-off-a-building type.”

  “I’m not. Generally, I play it safe, but everyone needs an adventure now and then.” Her voice lowered, so slight of an octave, he wasn’t certain he hadn’t imagined it.

  “Adventure like going on a date with me?” h
e asked lightly, putting out feelers.

  “Something like that.”

  “If you want to back out, now’s the time,” he joked, giving her an out if she needed one.

  “Not on your life. Where are we going… or are you surprising me?”

  “You wanted to feed elephants.”

  Sophie laughed heartily. “I’ll take it you’re not going to tell me.”

  “Dress casual. We’ll have fun,” he told her with an air of confidence.

  “I’ll take your word for it until tonight. For now, I have a tutoring session calling my name.”

  “All right. See you in a few hours.”

  He looked at the time once the call ended. Noon was only a few minutes away, his date hours away.

  “Gracie, ready for lunch?” he called out. He wouldn’t wish away the time with Gracie, no matter how much he looked forward to tonight.

  Chapter 5

  “This isn’t going to work,” Sophie muttered as she looked in the vintage cheval mirror standing in the corner of her bedroom.

  She yanked off the striped shirt she’d just put on, added it to the growing pile on her bed and returned to her closet for the third time, pulling out three more possibilities of tops to wear. All were quickly added to the discard pile.

  She needed back-up, in the form of Kate, from whom she still hadn’t heard back. “Please answer, please answer, please answer,” she repeated as she picked up the phone and called her best friend.

  “Hi Soph, I was just about to call,” Kate answered in her typical bubbly tone. “My phone died yesterday, and by ‘died’, I mean fell into the path of my car and met its demise by my tire. I just left the store with a new one.”

  That explained why she hadn’t received a reply. “Did you get my text?”

  “No. This phone will probably deliver them all to me at once with a barrage of bings tonight, just as I fall asleep. What’s up?”

  “I have a date tonight.” She braced herself for the squeal that was sure to follow.

  Kate didn’t disappoint. “Eeeek! This is so exciting. Who is he?”