by Lori Wilde
“We can start again, Gideon. Build a new life.”
God, how he wished it was true. He loved her more than words could say, but he’d learned that love wasn’t enough. “It’s not that easy, Caitlyn.”
“You’re making things harder than they have to be. You were always like that,” she said, “determined to do things the hard way.”
It was an accurate criticism, but he didn’t appreciate her pointing it out now. He was a father. Gideon still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He had a son.
Gideon experienced this new knowledge in every cell in his body, every muscle fiber, in the center of his bone marrow. He had a son. He had a legacy. He thought of J. Foster. Goodnight blood ran in his veins. Blood that had helped develop Texas. The same blood ran through Danny. Bigger than life, pulsating, hot, and adamant. Gideon was a Goodnight. Danny was too. The boy deserved his inheritance.
Gideon knew what he had to do.
Because having a child changed everything.
Dinner was a tense affair.
No one spoke over the meat loaf and when Danny asked if he could be excused, Caitlyn quickly said yes. She needed time alone with Gideon to get this straightened out. Every time she looked at him, all she could see was raw masculine power and surging testosterone. He was upset and she understood it, but they needed to work past the anger and blame, and figure out their next step.
“I’ll make a pot of coffee,” she said. “We can sit out on the porch swing and talk this through.”
Gideon nodded, stony-faced. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Once upon a time she could look into his eyes and know every thought that passed through his mind. But those days were gone.
Lost forever?
She turned to the coffeepot, felt the heat of his gaze on her. Was he staring at her backside again? She hadn’t missed the look he’d sent her when she bent over the oven. A smile tipped her lips. Maybe he wasn’t as stony as he wanted her to believe.
Then again, a mischievous part of her thought, maybe he was. Caitlyn’s cheeks warmed. Here she was scandalizing herself.
“Pie?” she asked when the coffee was ready. “I picked it up from the Twilight Bakery on the way home. It’s apple. I remembered it used to be your favorite.”
“Designed to butter me up for the news that I had a son?”
“I didn’t know any other way to break it to you.” She balanced the pie plates onto two cups of steaming coffee. He held the door open for her so she could walk out onto the porch. She set the cups down on the small white wrought-iron table beside the porch swing and pulled two forks from her apron pocket.
Gideon sank down onto the porch swing. His weight sent the chains creaking. She handed him a pie plate and tried not to notice how he had carefully settled it onto his thigh. She should have thought this through. Eating on a porch swing was a balancing act for people with two hands. She pushed his coffee cup to the edge of the table so he could reach it, picked up her own cup and plate, and went to sit beside him.
The minute her bottom brushed the wood she completely regretted the suggestion altogether. He was so close to her. So close she could see his coffee-bean-colored irises and thick, dark eyelashes. So close she could feel his body heat as warm as honeysuckle vines in the sun. So close she could smell the alchemy of his scent—a tangy mixture of sage, daylilies, and rugged man.
She felt drawn into a mystical spell of fantasy. Three days ago she could never have imagined sitting here with the love of her life. Maybe this wasn’t real, but some kind of bizarre waking dream.
“I thought that somehow you guessed,” she said. “Or someone had told you I had a kid and you put two and two together.”
“What made you think that?” His eyes were clear and focused on her.
Caitlyn dropped her gaze, worked a chunk of pie off the slice with her fork. She noticed he wasn’t eating, just watching her. “The daylilies. They represent motherhood.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Weird coincidence. Why did you choose them?”
“Their color reminded me of your lips.”
“Oh.” She reached up a finger to brush piecrust crumbs from her mouth.
The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over low-lying clouds. The light slanted across Gideon’s face and his skin seemed to almost shimmer. She wondered if her skin appeared the same way. Tingling with life.
“So about Danny,” he said.
Yes, about Danny.
Gideon paused for a long moment, and she could tell he was having a hard time putting his feelings into words. “He didn’t seem to warm up to me.”
“You’re a stranger. He doesn’t know you. It takes him a while to warm up to strangers.”
“Takes after you.”
She bristled, felt as if he was judging her. “There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.”
“I never said there was.”
“You used to tease me about it.”
“That was before I knew how dangerous the world can be. You’re right to be cautious.”
“I worry that I might make Danny too much of a fraidy cat. Especially without a father around. I want him to be strong and independent.”
“He’s got a father around now.”
“You’ve decided to stay in Twilight?” She held her breath and realized that either way, she was afraid of his answer.
“I am now. Danny changes everything. I’ve decided I’m going to accept J. Foster’s inheritance.”
“That’s an about-face.”
“I have a son to think about.”
Caitlyn smiled. “Bowie and Crockett are going to be steamed.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“They’ll fight you.”
“Tulip,” he said, “have you ever known me to back down from a brawl?”
Tulip.
The nickname he’d given her so long ago. She hadn’t heard it in eight years. “I’m happy to hear you say that.”
“What? That I’m ready to fight?”
“That you plan on being around for Danny.”
Gideon scowled. “Did you ever have a doubt?”
“I didn’t want to assume anything.”
“I’ve already missed almost eight years of his life, I don’t want to miss a minute more.”
“We have to discuss how to break the news to him. We can’t just come out and say it. He’s already been through so much with Kevin’s death. He’s having a hard time at school. I think we should take it slow. Let you two get to know each other first.”
Gideon’s scowl deepened. “I don’t agree, but you’re his mother, you know him best, so I’ll defer to your wishes.”
Caitlyn let out the breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. “Thank you. That’s one reason I wanted to hire you to refurbish the carousel. So you’d have a reason to be around us.”
“I don’t need an excuse to be around you, Caitlyn.” He drilled her with his gaze. “I want to be here.”
“Well, I need the pretense of an excuse and we do need someone to repair the carousel.”
“All right,” he said. “I did promise to get that carousel running for you one day.”
“You remember that?”
His eyes met hers. “Tulip, I remember everything about you.”
Joy jiggled her heart. “We’ve only got one hurdle.”
“What’s that?”
“Convincing the garden club that you’re the right man for the job.”
After Gideon left, Caitlyn couldn’t sleep. She put Danny to bed, tucked him in, read him a story, and then went to her own room. But after hours of twisting and turning and tossing, she was only more awake than ever. Finally, she got out of bed, slipped into her thick, worn sweater, and stepped out onto the back porch.
A full moon hung in the midnight black sky, fat and yellow. In the distance a whippoorwill called and its mate answered. The sweet scent of hyacinth wafted through the air. She could hear the bullfrogs down by
Sweetheart Park start in with the late night strumming noises. Spring was almost here—ripe and rich and full. Spring was always her favorite time of year when the bulbs burst forth with bright pastels, making everything misty and romantic like a Monet painting. She liked Easter with its pageantry and symbolism. Loved dying hen eggs and hiding chocolate bunnies in the fresh green grass for Danny to find.
But this year, everything was different. This year, Gideon had risen from the dead.
It was still incomprehensible to her. That the man she thought long buried had returned. She wished this was a fairy tale or a movie where all they had to do was take one look into each other’s eyes and melt, arms twined in an endless embrace. But it wasn’t.
A lot of time had passed. They’d both grown and changed. They weren’t the people they used to be. She couldn’t profess her undying love for him, much as her heart might long to do so, because she no longer knew him. He’d been to war. He’d killed people. She didn’t have to ask. She saw it in his eyes. Saw the harshness that pulled down his mouth. A mouth that had once laughed so much it seemed impossible that it belonged to the same guy.
And she had Danny to think about. She couldn’t allow her heart to lead her head. She no longer had that luxury. She was a mother, and nothing was more important to her than that.
But he’s your son’s father. It’s part of the same whole. Without Gideon there would be no Danny.
Who was this new Gideon with the piercing dark eyes and the bitter laugh that held no humor? He’d always been a bold alpha male, but the military had heightened and ingrained those traits until he was almost unrecognizable. Where had the young man she’d once loved with every cell of her body gone? And could she ever get him back?
Without even posing the question, she knew the answer was no.
So what was going to happen now? Where did they go from here? She had to form some kind of relationship with him, had to accept who he’d become and let go of the image she’d carried of him in her head for years. He was Danny’s father, and the boy deserved to know his dad.
She hugged herself, blew out her breath, and remembered that split second of unspeakable joy when she’d looked into Gideon’s eyes at J. Foster’s funeral and realized he was alive.
That single emotion had been pure bliss, but now she felt too much. Emotions warred inside her—hope and fear, concern and sadness. She wanted to feel the joy again, but it had slipped out under the weight of the other feelings, squashed and weary.
The thing was, she never wanted to hurt again like she’d hurt when the PI had told her Gideon was dead. It had been the most crushing despair of her life. Worse even than her mother’s death. She’d been five at the time and hadn’t really comprehended what forever meant. But she’d known well enough when Gideon died—
But no, he had not died. He was here and it was an unbelievable miracle.
Caitlyn had a million impulses, none of them healthy, all of them rash and reckless. She could not afford to act on either hope or joy. She had to be calm, coolheaded, practical. Just the way she’d been when she’d married Kevin. Knowing it was not a love match, but understanding that he was a good and decent man who would take care of her and the child she carried. He had claimed Danny and reared him as his own.
She stood on the porch, mesmerized by the moon, trying to make sense of her life, taking stock of the options left open to her.
When it came down to it, one question kept circling her mind.
Just how damaged was Gideon?
Chapter Nine
Traditional meaning of sunflower—homage and devotion.
The gardening club buzzed with the news that J. Foster had left his entire fortune to the dark stranger on the motorcycle. Not everyone in the club had known Gideon before, and the old-timers filled the newcomers in on the juicy details.
The club met every Tuesday evening at the event room in the public library. On the Tuesday following J. Foster’s funeral, they gathered to finalize groundbreaking plans for the victory garden. Caitlyn was scheduled to present her design, and the group had asked the county extension agent, Newt Bandy, to stop by and give them advice on prepping the soil.
The spot donated for the victory garden had been underneath a building for over a hundred and twenty-five years, and the soil would need special preparation to make it suitable for growing.
Caitlyn stepped into the room, flip chart tucked under her arm, Danny in tow. She knew he’d be bored, but she’d been unable to find a babysitter, so she’d swung by the video store to rent him a game for his Nintendo.
“If you’re good,” she said, setting him up at the back of the room, “we’ll stop by Rinky-Tink’s for ice cream on the way home.”
“I’ll be good,” Danny promised.
She kissed the top of his head, smiled at his little boy scent. How she loved being a mom. It was a hundred times better than she’d ever imagined it would be. She couldn’t wait for Gideon to discover the joy of being this child’s parent. “That’s my boy.”
“Evening, Caitlyn,” Newt Bandy greeted, slipping into the chair beside hers.
Newt had been a good friend of Kevin’s. He was a slope-shouldered man, closer to forty than thirty, with the kind of grin that made you feel as if you were sharing a secret when he directed it at you. He was losing his hair, and as a cover-up, he never took off his cowboy hat. Idly, she wondered if he slept in it.
She could have had the opportunity to find out. He’d asked her out a few months after Kevin’s death, but she’d turned him down. For one thing, she wasn’t attracted to him. For another thing, she didn’t want to slip from one dependent relationship into another. She’d relied too much on her husband. Kevin had been a much-needed prop to get her out of her father’s house, but now she needed to learn to stand on her own two feet. She was twenty-five, high time she started carving out a life of her own. One not defined or confined by a man.
That was another concern she had about renewing her relationship with Gideon. He was an alpha male just like her father. Would a dynamic like that undermine her struggle for independence?
“Hi, Newt.” She returned his warm smile, but kept her body language aloof. She didn’t want him to read anything into her friendliness other than what it was. “Thank you for coming to speak to our group.”
“My pleasure.” Newt beamed and scooted closer.
As president of the club, Patsy called the meeting to order promptly at seven o’clock. “I know Belinda isn’t here yet, but we need to get this show on the road, and who knows when she’ll drag in here. First order of business, we need a name for the garden. Something snappy that will capture the judges’ attention.”
Dotty Mae raised a hand. “How about the Lost Loves Garden?”
“That sounds so sad,” said Emma. Her husband Sam’s first wife had been an RN killed in Iraq by an IED while on her way to deliver medicine to orphans. “What about something a little more upbeat?”
“What about the Twilight Memorial Garden?” Marva suggested.
Raylene wrinkled her nose. “Too blah.”
“Soldier Fields?” Christine proposed.
“That’s leaving out the navy and air force veterans,” Terri pointed out. Her husband, Ted, had received his medical training in the air force.
A few more names were bandied about, but nothing they could come to a consensus on. And then Caitlyn ventured a suggestion based on Gideon’s homecoming. “What do you ladies think of the Welcome Home Garden?”
They all tried it out, saying it several times, and no one shot it down.
“Hey,” Flynn said. “We could wrap the trees with yellow ribbons.”
That resulted in an enthusiastic response from the group and some off-key renditions of Tony Orlando and Dawn, and then they took a vote.
“All in favor of calling it the Welcome Home Garden, raise your hands,” Patsy said.
Everyone raised her hand. It was unanimous.
Patsy banged her gavel. “Welcome Home
Garden it is. On to the next order of business. Caitlyn, how are the design plans coming along?”
Caitlyn stood up. Behind her came the cheery sounds of Super Mario Bros. ramping up a level on Danny’s Game Boy. She walked to the podium, settled her flip chart onto the easel. “I’ve finished the preliminary sketches and my father finally sent the carousel over.”
Patsy nodded. “I saw them unloading at the lot on Saturday afternoon.”
“You need to get a temporary shelter built to house it,” Newt interjected. “Keep it out of the weather while it’s under construction. Discourage vandals.”
“I’ve already got one coming,” Patsy said. “Now we have to find someone who can restore the thing. That project is going to be as big as the garden itself. We’ll need a lot of hands.”
“I’ve got plenty of hands,” Belinda Murphey called out as she came through the door, her five kids in tow.
“Great, she brought her army,” Patsy muttered under her breath.
Danny spied the Murphey kids and jumped up from his seat. By their sheer number, Belinda’s children caused chaos wherever they went. “Y’all go outside and play. But stay on the lighted basketball court.”
Danny hung at the door looking like he really wanted to go outside with the other kids, but knowing better than to go without Caitlyn’s permission. She nodded at him. “Go on.”
He raced up to the podium, handed her his Game Boy to put in her purse, and then zoomed off with Belinda’s brood. Once the kids were gone and everyone from the garden club had assembled their chairs in a semicircle around the lectern, Caitlyn opened the flip chart.
She’d painstakingly spent hours designing and drawing up the plans, using colored pencils to illustrate the carousel positioned in the middle. She’d divided the garden into four circular quadrants—fruits, vegetables, herbs, and flowers, encircling the carousel and spiraling outward in a circle like ripples on water.
The traditional victory gardens of World War I and II were food-based, meant to feed the locals and boost morale, but Caitlyn couldn’t bear the thought of excluding flowers from the mix. What lifted the spirits more than saucy bright flowers in bloom? Besides, the contest rules had not restricted the gardens to edibles only.
