Return to Me by Robin Lee Hatcher

swiped away the tears with the pads of her index fin- gers as she sat on the stool in front of the dresser.
    “Other girls don’t have our dad.”
    “You got that right.” It drove her crazy, how strict their dad was. He had the silliest rules. Most of her friends could do a lot more stuff than she could. Roxy couldn’t stay overnight anywhere during the school week, and she had to do chores every Saturday morning before she could talk on the phone to her friends or hang out with them. Sundays were reserved for church and doing things with the family. Period. No discussion.
    It was dumb. That’s what it was.
    Elena took a cotton ball from a heart-shaped crystal box and used it with some white cream to clean the streak of mascara from Roxy’s cheek. “You’ll have to learn to hold your hand steady or you’ll do this a lot.”
    “Can we use the blue eye shadow?”
    “No way. Dad would have a fit. We’ll start with something soft. A nice taupe. It’ll be real pretty with your brown eyes.” Elena leaned down so that her head was right next to Roxy’s. The two of them stared into the mirror at their reflections. “You’ve got knock- out eyes, Roxy. The boys are gonna fall all over themselves when you get older.”
    Elena didn’t know it, but there were a few boys already trying to get Roxy’s attention. One of them, Doug Knight, a ninth grader, walked her home from the bus stop yesterday, and he kissed her out by the pool house.
    Remembering, her stomach tumbled. She never dreamed kiss- ing would feel like that!
    “Okay,” Elena said. “Close your eyes. And remember, this is a one-time deal. You still gotta stay out of my things. Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    Did a promise count when she crossed her fingers behind her back?
    Eleven

    Since the last time Roxy attended, Believers Hillside Fellowship had built a bigger sanctuary and added a new children’s wing. She recognized the senior pastor, but the majority of people who spoke to her father before the service were strangers to her.
    She would have preferred to stay home, but living off her father’s charity at the ripe old age of thirty-two made her feel guilty. And that guilt caused her to agree to go with him when he asked her yesterday.
    Guilt. It was a wretched thing. She preferred it when she didn’t give a hang what anyone thought about her or whether or not what she did was right or wrong in anyone’s eyes. Being in her father’s church on this Sunday morning was bound to produce more guilt. Wasn’t that what church was about? Making people feel guilty for doing the things they enjoyed, keep them from having fun.
    Way down deep in the darkest recesses of Roxy’s heart, she wondered if that was true. She used to think so. But now . . .
    A boy of about seventeen or eighteen — tall with a wiry build, wearing a black leather jacket and a diamond stud in one ear — approached Wyatt and offered his hand. “I . . . uh . . . my name’s Ben Turner. I heard you talk last Sunday night.”
    “Nice to meet you, Ben.” Wyatt shook the boy’s hand.
    “I . . . I wanted you to know that what you said helped me a lot. My girlfriend and me, we were sort of — ” He shrugged. “Well, doesn’t matter, ’cause things are different now. God’s a cool dude. You know, wanting to be our friend and carin’ about us, the way you said.”
    Wyatt grinned. “Yes.”
    “I’ll be seein’ you around, I guess. Maybe we can, you know, talk sometime.”
    “I’d like that, Ben. Anytime.”
    “Cool. Well, guess I’d better join my friends. See ya.”
    After Ben left, Elena slipped her hand into the crook of Wyatt’s arm — an action that was both natural and proprietary. “Who was that?”
    He put his hand over hers. “He must be the kid Lance called about last week. You remember me telling about him.” He leaned closer, until his forehead nearly touched hers.
    The look in his eyes was so intimate, so filled with love, it took Roxy’s breath away. She