by Diane Moody
The Runaway Pastor's Wife
Diane Moody Hannah Schmitt
OBT Bookz (2011)
* * *
Rating: ****
Tags: Spouses of Clergy, Christian Fiction, Family Life, General, Romance, Fiction, Runaway Wives, Love Stories
What could possibly drive a pastor's wife to run away from home?
After years of frustration from life in a church fishbowl, Annie McGregor walks away from it all and boards a plane for Colorado. She has no way of knowing her college sweetheart is headed to the same cabin in the Rockies, terrified and gravely wounded. Their unexpected reunion couldn't have come at a worse time. Or could it? Bewildered that God would allow Michael Dean to walk back into her life, Annie pleads with Him to keep her heart true to her husband and her family. God answers her prayer, but in a way she would never expect.
Written by a former pastor's wife, Annie's story provides a rare look inside the family life of those in the ministry, particularly the unique pressures on those who marry men of God.
About the Author
Born in Texas and raised in Oklahoma, Diane Hale Moody is a graduate of OklahomaStateUniversity. She lives with her husband Ken in the rolling hills just outside of Nashville. They are the proud parents of two grown and extraordinary children, Hannah and Ben.
Just after moving to Tennessee in 1999, Diane felt the tug of a long-neglected passion to write again. Since then, she's written a column for her local newspaper, feature articles for various magazines and curriculum, and several novels with a dozen more stories eagerly vying for her attention.
When she's not reading or writing, Diane enjoys an eclectic taste in music and movies, great coffee, the company of good friends, and the adoration of a peculiar little pooch named Darby.
Visit Diane's website at dianemoody.net and her blog, "just sayin'" at dianemoody.blogspot.com
DIANE MOODY
The Runaway Pastor’s Wife
Diane Moody
Copyright © Diane Moody 2011
Published by OBT Bookz
Cover design by Hannah Schmitt
Front cover photo: © 101dalmatians | istockphoto.com
Front cover photo: © Adventure_Photo | istockphoto.com
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DEDICATION
From a former pastor’s wife
to all those still living in the fish bowl, while—
teaching like Beth Moore,
reaching like Billy Graham,
nurturing like Mother Teresa,
parenting like Dr. Dobson,
informing like Oprah,
dressing like Princess Diana,
and of course,
playing the piano
(in a pinch)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Brandi Wilson, my pastor’s wife, who makes it all look so easy with three young boys and a rock star husband. You’re my hero!
To Debbie and Terry Capes, for your faithful encouragement through all these years to complete this book. Mission accomplished!
To Sally Wilson, my incredible writing buddy who keeps me motivated and holds my feet to the Red Tree fire. I couldn’t do it without you!
And finally to Ken, my patient husband of thirty years
who believes in me far more than I’ll ever believe in myself.
Thanks for making the journey such a cool ride.
Prologue
Stillwater, Oklahoma
Seventeen years ago
“I don’t have a clue.”
“He’s your best friend—what do you mean you don’t have a clue?”
“Correction. You are my best friend.” Michael Dean leaned across the plaid-covered table to plant a pizza kiss on his girlfriend’s lips.
“Michael!” Annie Franklin snatched a napkin to wipe her mouth.
“What?”
“Look at this,” she flipped the napkin smeared with pizza sauce. “You can sweet talk me any day, but lose the grease first, okay?”
He watched his girlfriend, enjoying her reprimand. He drank in the sight of her long brown hair, curled and shining even in the dim candlelight of their favorite pizza dive. Her sparkling eyes, a rich shade of deep sable, danced as if hiding some delicious secret—eyes that never failed to mesmerize him.
And her smile . . . he could lose himself in that smile. Any time, any day. He reached for another slice of pizza, folded it in half, and took a huge bite. “You’re beautiful when you get mad,” he mumbled. “Did you know that?” He locked gazes with her as she finished wiping her mouth.
A reluctant smile spread across her face. “Stop changing the subject. Why is Grady so upset?”
He knew Annie wasn’t afraid to plow through his evasiveness. After three and a half years together, she knew his every nuance. He could hide nothing from her. Inseparable since meeting the first week of their freshman year at Oklahoma State University, he enjoyed the honesty and openness between them—a trait he knew she cherished. And while they didn’t always agree on every subject, there was nothing they wouldn’t or couldn’t discuss.
He took a long gulp from his frosted glass of root beer and wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s ticked off at Coach for benching him the last five games. Can’t say as I blame him.”
“Me neither. You’d be climbing the dugout walls if it was you.”
Michael cocked an eyebrow. “No kidding. I mean, think about it, Annie—it’s our senior year. This is it. The stands are crawling with scouts, and there’s Grady—parked on his keister. Look, I feel for him, but what am I supposed to do?”
Annie pushed her plate aside. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that those same scouts are swarming all over you.” She reached for his hand.
He lifted her hand to his lips. “Can I help it if I’m incredibly awesome?”
“Not to mention arrogant, cocky—” She pulled her hand back, grabbing a napkin to wipe off his pizza lip print.
“Seriously, I’m sorry it’s happened to him, but at this point I can’t carry him any more.” Michael leaned back in the booth. “The stakes are too high. If I’m gonna go in the first or second round of the draft, I’ve got to concentrate on my own game. Grady’s got to look out for him
self.”
“I know, but I hate to see him so depressed. Grady’s like family to us. We can’t just let him suffer. I wish there was—”
Wham!
A pile of textbooks slammed onto their table. “Hi guys! Oooh . . . pepperoni! My favorite! Scoot over, Annie.” The spirited blonde plopped down in the booth next to Annie, making herself at home. “Hey Brandon?” she yelled over her shoulder. “Bring me a plate and a Diet Coke, okay?” The waiter nodded his reply as she reached for a slice of pizza. “So what’s going on?”
“Christine, nice of you to join us,” Michael laughed. “Please—don’t be shy. Have some pizza.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” she answered, missing his sarcasm. “Michael, what’d you get on that Business Finance exam?” She popped a piece of pepperoni into her mouth. “That one ate my lunch. I’ll be lucky if I even passed it.”
“I doubt that.” He winked at Annie. “But I don’t know what I got on it. I was out of town for a game and haven’t checked the grade postings yet.” He took another drink, watching his two favorite girls. Best friends since middle school, Annie and Christine Benson were as different as day and night but closer than sisters. Their friendship was something to behold. A genuine work of art.
“Whatever. Hey, Annie? Can I borrow your black dress?” Christine took a sip from Annie’s glass. “I have a date tonight.”
“The last time you wore it you got salsa on it and didn’t bother to have it cleaned. Tell me one good reason I should loan it to you again.”
“Because I’m your best friend? Because I know all your juicy little secrets?”
“You’re reaching, girlfriend.”
“Because my date has two extra tickets to see James Taylor next week?”
Michael slapped his open palms on the table. “Loan her the dress! Just make sure she hands over the tickets first. All right, Tumbleweed!” He stretched across the table to give Christine a playful kiss on the cheek.
“Stop it!” She pulled away. “You know I hate that stupid name. Grady says it all the time and it annoys me to death.”
He ignored her as usual. “Hey, Annie. You ’n me and James Taylor. How about it?” His eyebrows danced as he crooned the opening lyrics of Something in the Way She Moves.
“Sing it, sweet baby James,” Annie swooned.
Michael continued, his pitch perfect as he sang the familiar, romantic words of the song they’d long ago dubbed “their” song.
“That’s real nice, but what’s the big deal?” Christine complained. “I was kind of disappointed Seth had these tickets. I’d rather see Springsteen. Or Michael Jackson. James Taylor is just too, I don’t know, sedate for me.”
Michael’s serenade continued, the lyrics echoing in his glass when he took a sip of root beer. He wiped his mouth again. “Because James Taylor is a classic. He’s the hands-down, all-time best singer-songwriter there is. You should feel blessed—your date has excellent taste in music. Just like us. We like the real deal, the main man, the true blue, Sweet Baby James. Don’t we, Annie?” He reached for her hand across the table.
“We do, that we do.” She smiled back at him with a wink. “Christine, the dress is yours. But this time, don’t bring it back until you get it dry cleaned, got it? Tickets or no tickets.”
“Sure. Whatever,” Christine dismissed. “But while we’re at it, there are more important things to discuss here. Like shoes. I need your black stilettos to go with the dress.”
“Yes, Annie. She simply MUST have those stilettos.” Michael batted his eyes, swishing his dangling wrist across the table. “Though personally, I’d prefer the strappy rhinestone sandals. But that’s just me.”
Annie flicked a packet of sugar, hitting him square on the nose. “Enough! I don’t wear your cleats, sweet thing, so you stay away from my shoes. Got it?”
She gazed across the table at Michael who was still laughing at his own joke. He rolled his head back, then finally caught his breath and leveled his eyes back toward her.
And there it was. That lopsided, boy-next-door grin that melted her every time. How could a smile say so much? As if every emotion in his body was expressed in that one simple gesture. Dimples as deep as the Grand Canyon set in a golden tan. Perfect white teeth. The sun-kissed highlights in his shaggy brown hair, still wet from his after-practice shower. Annie sighed, taking it all in. She rested her chin on her hand and lost herself in his warm brown eyes.
Oblivious to Christine or the other patrons of Hideaway Pizza, Annie felt a surge wash over her like she’d never known before. In that single moment, she knew without a shadow of doubt she would spend the rest of her life with this man who meant more to her than life itself.
I love you, she mouthed silently.
He winked again. I love you more.
CHAPTER 1
Tampa, Florida
Present day
Annie McGregor felt the heat of impatience creep up her neck as she clutched the steering wheel, the cell phone cradled against her shoulder. “Because I can’t be there. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to manage without me.”
“Well, calling Tuesday morning is rather short notice, don’t you think?”
Annie bristled. “Fran, I know it’s short notice. Something has come up and I simply can’t make it to Bible study this morning.” Glancing over her shoulder, she merged into the flow of traffic entering the Tampa International Airport, irritated at the obstinacy on the other end of the line. Didn’t “assistant” mean you assisted when necessary?
“What’s wrong, Annie? You sound upset.”
Fran’s tone iced through her veins. “I’m not upset! But I don’t think I should have to explain myself just because I can’t be there. You’ll do fine without me. Run the video then break them into their small groups. It’s not that hard, Fran.”
“Are you sick? Is one of the kids sick? Is it David? Is something wrong?”
Here we go again. All the questions. The constant prying. Why does everyone think they’re entitled to know my every thought and action? Annie took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. Fran wasn’t a beast. She meant well. “Look Fran, I can’t be there. Can we just leave it at that?” She cringed at the hypocritical tone of her own voice.
“Annie, what’s gotten into you? You’ve been so irritable lately. And I don’t mind telling you, I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“Fine. I’m irritable. I’m crabby. I’m obnoxious. So sue me.”
She snapped the phone off and tossed it toward her purse in the passenger seat. Annie bit her lower lip to dam the flood of tears, desperate to keep her appearance intact until she walked through the door of Christine’s cabin in Colorado. Catching her reflection in the rearview mirror, she was startled by the angry woman looking back at her. Tiny red lines laced roadmaps across tired brown eyes, normally warm and smiling. With her thick hair pulled back into a long pony tail, her face looked pale despite an earlier dash of make-up, her lips pinched in an absurd scowl. Disgusted, she muttered a growl and pressed her foot harder against the accelerator as she flew through the ribbons of traffic approaching the airport terminals.
Seated on the plane two hours later, Annie reached into her purse to turn off her cell phone. The special cell pocket was empty. She panicked, digging through the rest of her bag. Nothing. Mentally back-tracking her morning, her shoulders sagged in disbelief when she remembered tossing it toward her purse in the van, but apparently not into her purse. The tiny gadget was most likely resting between the passenger seat and door.
Great. Just great.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Delta Airlines Flight 1624 with non-stop service to Colorado Springs. The captain has been given clearance to depart from the terminal at this time, so we ask for your immediate attention to the flight attendant nearest you regarding our safety features.”
Annie continued shaking her head, still livid at the blunder in her well-constructed plans. Then a thought occurred to her. Maybe leaving her cell p
hone behind wasn’t a mistake after all. Maybe it was exactly what she needed to do.
Oblivious to the flight attendant’s voice drifting through the crowded cabin, Annie looked out the window beside her as the aircraft backed away from the gate then rolled gently across the tarmac. Gates and hangars marched slowly by. She leaned over to look up at the sky, studying the ominous clouds overhead. God, please hold the weather just a few more minutes until we can get up above the clouds. I can’t bear to stay on the ground another minute.
She realized she was doing it again. Her jaws ached from the constant clenching, a mindless habit she’d acquired over the last few months. She flexed her jaw, dropping her mouth open and shut, open and shut, working out the kinks.
Get a hold of yourself. It’s a four-hour flight. That’s all.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she’d been so ugly to Fran on the phone.
What am I doing here?
Always, whenever the wave of hostility or anxiety began to threaten her composure, she reached for something to read. Earlier, while rushing through one of the airport gift shops, she picked up a copy of Grisham’s latest bestseller. Trusting the author to give her the escape she desired, she reached for the book stuffed in her carry-on bag under the seat in front of her. Rummaging through the bag, she noticed the tapestry cover of her journal. Her heart began to hammer against her chest.
Not now. Not yet.