Cheryl Wolverton - Home To You

RITA ®Award finalist Cheryl Wolverton has well over a dozen books to her name. Her very popular Hill Creek, Texas, series has been a finalist in many contests. Having grown up in Oklahoma, lived in Kentucky, Texas, Louisiana and now living once more in Oklahoma, Cheryl and her husband of more than twenty years and their two children, Jeremiah and Christina, always considered themselves Oklahomans transplanted to grow and flourish in the South. Readers are always welcome to contact her at P.O. Box 106, Faxon, OK 73540 or e-mail at Cheryl@cherylwolverton.com. You can also visit her Web site at www.cherylwolverton.com.

Fear not for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen you, I will help you, yea I will uphold you with the right hand of my righteousness.

—Isaiah 41:10

To my neighbor Melinda and her wonderful husband and kids. I’ll miss you.

To my family, Anita, Doug, Deb, Mom, James and Gayle. Just for being family.

To my MS support group in Baton Rouge. Thanks for all the experience. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to write this book.

And to my wonderful church family, Cornerstone Fellowship. Jackay and Dick, you are an inspiration, and I will never forget you or any of the other wonderful, wonderful friends, especially Kendal, Lane, Katie, Hope, Claire, Lyndee, Jamie, Caleb, Jamie, Brooklyn—keepers of my own heart.

When I was going through the discovery of the MS and the multiple attacks, you guys at church were there to stand by me and help me through the day and laugh with me when I couldn’t remember a word or help me when I couldn’t walk across the floor. You are the reason I didn’t end up like Meghan in the book! Such love. God’s love.

And of course, Steve, Christina and Jeremiah have to be added to the list. Being in a family means good times, bad times and scary times. And we made it through it. I’m sure more good times, bad times and scary times will come, but if not for you, I wouldn’t be writing. I love you guys.

And finally, thank You Heavenly Father, because You are in control at all times!

Dear Reader,

I was diagnosed with MS in 2002. Unlike Meghan, I went to the Web to research the disease and find out more about it. I was excited by what I found because when I had been in the medical field, there was nothing they could do for the disease. However, now they can slow the progression. No, there’s no cure, but I believe there will be one day with the strides that have been made.

This book deals with learning the lesson that God is in control. It was something Meghan and Dakota had to learn. And anyone who gets too busy with work or comes down with a devastating medical problem needs to learn the lesson, as well. Let go and praise God because He is in control!

I hope you enjoy the story, and if you want more information on MS, try some of the Web sites I like to visit: www.mswatch.com, www.multiplesclerosis.com or www.msaa.org or the National Multiple Sclerosis Society page. God bless!

You can also visit my Web site for more links at: www.cherylwolverton.com or e-mail if you have questions at: Cheryl@cherylwolverton.com. You can write to me at P.O. Box 106, Faxon, OK 73540.

I look forward to chatting with you!

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Prologue

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

Dakota “Cody” Ryder sat next to the ditch, watching as his best friend, Meghan O’Halleran, dug some more mud out of the slimy wet pit and slapped it into the pan she had in front of her. It didn’t matter that Cody wasn’t supposed to get muddy. Sitting with his best friend took precedence over that. Meghan’s mom had told her they were moving and so Cody was trying to cheer Meghan up by sitting with her.

“Cody, will you promise me something?”

Dakota was only in first grade, just like Meghan, but he knew what promises were and how important they could be. Last year the two friends had spit in each other’s hands and shook, agreeing to protect each other when they started school.

Had they not made that promise, Meghan would have ended up with her hair cut by Michael the bully, and Dakota would have ended up having to work with silly Sally who laughed all the time. Meghan had bailed him out of that one. Big time. Just as he had protected her.

So yes, he knew how important his word was now as Meghan solemnly asked him for another promise.

Her blond hair was pulled up into pigtails, curling tightly, and the freckles across her nose danced as she wriggled it up.

The two friends had helped each other out so many times…but, well, sometimes girls did funny things. So, even though he wanted to promise Meghan the moon, he hesitated as he watched Meghan carefully finish her mud pie. If he promised, he’d have to keep it—no matter what. And if she wanted him to eat that mud pie—

“What do you want me to promise, Meghan?” Cody rested his hands on his crossed legs and waited, trepidation growing as he watched her smooth the top of the pie.

“Promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

Relief wilted him. He nodded. “Sure, Meghan!”

“I’m serious. I really mean it, Cody. I want us to always be friends.”

“Forever,” Cody reassured her. He was so relieved that she didn’t want him to eat the pie that he hurried to reassure her. “If you ever need me, I’ll be here—even if you want to move in and be my sister.”

To Cody that was as good of a promise as he could imagine. He had an older sister and he knew how awful it could be.

Meghan’s green eyes peered into his. “Really? Even that? That’s great, but I wouldn’t want to be your sister.”

Cody had shared several stories about his sister with Meghan, and his friend had sometimes caught the wrath of Susan herself, so she knew exactly what Cody was promising.

He nodded. “I promise.”

Meghan’s lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.

Suddenly scared, Dakota wondered what he’d said to upset her, until she lunged forward and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Cody! You’re the bestest friend ever.”

He wrinkled his own nose in disgust. Why’d girls always have to hug?

Then he felt something wet and looked down.

The mud pie was in his lap.

Meghan pulled back and cried in dismay. “I wanted to share it with you before we moved!”

As Cody stared at the mess in his lap and thought of the coming punishment for getting dirty, he could only think he was still getting off a lot easier than he would have if he’d been forced to eat that mud pie.

Thirty-two-year-old Dakota Ryder quickly finished the report he was reading and scrawled his signature across the bottom. He leaned back in the dark brown leather chair, grimacing as he heard it squeak. He needed to get that oiled, he thought, but then immediately dismissed the idea as yet another thing to do later, when he had more time. He glanced at the clock over the sofa and sighed. Pushing back from his mahogany desk, he grabbed up the papers he’d just finished and stood. He was running late.

He strode across the deep, thick, mauve carpet, pausing only to pull open the door before leaving his office. At Sherry Anne’s desk, his assistant, who was busily creating next Sunday’s bulletin on her computer, he hesitated. Smiling at the middle-aged blonde, he dropped the reports he’d signed into her in-box on the corner of her small desk.

“Can you see that these get mailed to headquarters?” He twisted his wrist to look at his watch, confirming that the time was the same as the clock in his office. “I’m going to be late for my meeting with the contractors.”

Sherry Anne picked up the papers and checked the address. “Sure thing. Jacob and Marlene called about their counseling appointment. They want to change it to next week.”

“Fit them in.” Looking again at his watch, he muttered, “I’m going to be out the rest of the day. Lock up when you leave.”

“Sure thing, Pastor.” Sherry Anne turned back to her computer screen. “Don’t forget your 9:00 a.m. meeting tomorrow with Mr. Bennett. He wants to talk to you about the finances.”

Dakota groaned. “Thanks.” Zachary Bennett and his wife, Georgia, were huge contributors to the church—and somehow they felt that gave them the right to tell Dakota how to spend church money.

He headed through the foyer. The dark red carpet muffled his footsteps as he passed between the two long middle rows of white pews. The padded seats matched the red of the carpet.

How many times had he looked out over the congregation who filled these pews three times each week? He mentally calculated as he hastened toward the back door and to his appointment. Seven years, nearly three services every week…too many to count.

He continued down the aisle, hearing the air-conditioning turn on. Pausing by the thermostat, he clicked the switch to off. The band had forgotten to turn it off after practice earlier. He made a mental note to mention it to them.

Life was too short, he thought, making a list of things he needed to do. He never had enough hours in the day to get things done. The church currently had no associate pastor, so Dakota was trying to complete all of the pastoral jobs himself. Except for the youth. They did have a great youth pastor—who was still in his office working right now, as a matter of fact.

Working.

Just like Dakota was working, even though he was leaving the church. Just like he’d be working late into the night on a load of reports he’d stashed in his car earlier.

Heading out to his little compact sedan, Dakota tried to think of a time since returning from seminary that he hadn’t been busy working on one project or another. There weren’t many times, lately. At least he was busy doing God’s work, he thought as he pulled out his keys to unlock the door.

But that didn’t leave him time for anything else.

Glancing at his watch again, he noted he was going to be late-late-late. He pulled out his cell phone as he unlocked the car, and struggled to balance the phone against his shoulder.

“Call, Chandler Contracts,” he spoke into the phone.

The sun was shining brightly today, even though it wasn’t hot. Summer was past and fall had finally arrived. The wind whipped at his hair as he finally managed to get the lock turned in the door. Ah, the wind. There was nary a day without it on the plains of Texas.

The phone on the other end began to ring.

He slid into the silver Honda and slipped on the gray seat belt.

He loved his hometown and all that went with it; the weather was great, he knew everyone, it was small enough to get anywhere pretty fast, but it was still big enough to have most of the stores and businesses he might need—like the contractors he was about to hire.