Love’s Little Secrets: Sweet Grove Romance, Book 2
First Street Church, Book 10
Sharon Hughson
© 2018, Sharon Hughson.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Cover Design by RockSolidBookDesign.com
Proofread by Alice Shepherd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Sweet Promise Press
PO Box 72
Brighton, MI 48116
To all the secret keepers who stay silent to protect those they love
To the Revealer of secrets whose love is constant through it all
Contents
Publisher’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
What’s Next?
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1
Norma Wells didn’t know who to thank for the state of her silver anniversary party plans—Pinterest boards or her pastor’s wife. A quarter-century married to the same man should be celebrated in style. So what if she didn’t love him anymore?
Norma blinked at the photo of the elaborate cake on her smart phone. No one would guess it was a Wells family recipe beneath all that fluff. After Tabitha Olson balked when Norma insisted on baking her own cake, Norma agreed to let a professional frost and decorate it.
“It’s a landmark anniversary,” the pastor’s wife had argued, and Tabitha knew the pitfalls to matrimonial longevity.
At least she had a daughter and grandchild to show for it.
“Waiting for me again?” Her boss, Kyanna Patchett, stopped beside her elbow. “Is that for the party tomorrow?”
Norma held her phone out to the principal. While Kyanna studied the photo, Norma clicked through the log out and shut down protocols on her desktop computer before fumbling with her bottom desk drawer. She shoved an open bag of sunflower seeds out of the way and grasped her well-used leather handbag.
“What flavor?” Kyanna handed the phone back and sidled away so Norma could stand.
“Secret family recipe.”
Kyanna’s eyebrows shot up. “A nameless secret recipe?”
Norma forced her lips to smile. “Maple spice cake.”
The principal dipped her chin. “Hoping to spice things up, are you?”
Norma tried to chuckle as she followed the well-built woman, only a couple years her junior, into the hallway. Kyanna fumbled with her keys and locked the office door.
“Are Roth and Ariel attending the party with you?” Norma loved that her friend had found romance with one of the single parents. The two had been “an item” since October the previous year.
Kyanna’s lips quirked into a smile. She held the outer door for Norma. “Of course. You are Ariel’s honorary aunt.”
Norma loved the teenagers at the high school. She knew many of them from her first job as an attendance secretary at the Sweet Grove Elementary ten years ago. Her heart pinched. If only the Lord had seen fit to give her babies of her own.
I’m trying not to be ungrateful, Lord.
“She’s a good girl. I’m glad she’s turned things around.” Norma had supervised Ariel Stryker on numerous afternoons while she worked off her detention. When she’d started school in the fall, Ariel had fallen in with a rough crowd, but after a scary attack, she’d distanced herself from them. Finally, the teen formed cozy friendships with a few girls from the First Street Church youth group, but Norma still worried about her.
“She’s a teenage girl, so she has her moments, but Roth is learning to deal with them.”
“With your help.” Norma glanced over, noting the pink in her supervisor’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the early spring sunshine and everything to do with finding love.
Her stomach knotted. She imagined shaking a finger at herself. Rather than envying those who found happiness in middle age, she should be rejoicing with them. Didn’t the Bible say as much?
I’m becoming a bitter old woman.
The pair reached their vehicles. Norma groped for the handle on the old white truck she used so Herman could commute to Austin in the newer sedan.
“Any big plans for tonight?” Norma faced Kyanna, who paused in the open door of her cute Toyota SUV.
“Dinner and movies at Roth’s house later.”
“Have fun.”
Kyanna waved. “See you tomorrow.” She ducked inside the front seat.
Norma waited until Kyanna drove off before opening her own door. The hinges squealed. She tossed her purse onto the bench seat and grasped the handle above the open door. With a push from the ball of her foot, she heaved into the cab, ducking to avoid beaning herself on the door frame. Its cracked rubber lining smoothed along her poofy brunette hair as she settled into her seat.
Her breath hitched in her chest, and she leaned her head back, gasping a few times. Those extra twenty pounds were starting to make a difference in her movements. Was it any wonder her husband couldn’t be bothered to come home except on the weekend?
Norma slammed the door and slid the key into the ignition. She hadn’t been either old nor fat when she’d first suspected he could be stepping out on her. At the time, he’d spent half of every month in the New Mexico office and half in the Austin office. Even once he’d been reassigned full-time to the Texas capital, he only came home on weekends.
You can’t expect a man to go without sex for weeks on end. Her mother’s non-attempt at comforting Norma
so many years ago rang in her mind. Norma hadn’t bothered to mention the truth: she gave Herman as much intimacy as he wanted whenever he was home, and he always seemed satisfied.
She feared what drove him into another woman’s arms was the fact that Norma couldn’t get pregnant. They’d planned to fill their home with four children—three boys and a girl. In preparation, she’d never worked an outside job until years of futile attempts hadn’t netted her a full-term pregnancy. Oh, he’d grumbled about her taking a job, but he couldn’t expect her to sit at home with no one to take care of while he lived elsewhere most of the time.
When she turned the key, the engine grated and coughed before roaring to life. Today was Friday, and Herman would come home. She’d filled the Crock-Pot with a whole chicken and a variety of vegetables, and she intended to whip up a batch of dumplings. Cooking was one thing she could do.
Norma worked hard to keep Herman satisfied in every way, and she could still hear her mother goading her when anything slipped. But she couldn’t make a baby grow in her womb.
What would you say to that, Mama?
She cranked the window up so her hair wouldn’t be mussed. Herman wanted his wife looking put together, like the women from those black and white television shows they’d grown up watching.
Everything she struggled to perform perfectly for him could never outweigh the empty rooms in their rambling farmhouse.
Norma stifled a yawn. After twenty-five years, she was tired of trying to please the husband she’d vowed to honor, cherish, and obey for a lifetime.
2
Herman Wells stared through the dusty windshield, lips curled into a scowl. Townspeople, churchgoers mostly, teemed around the yard and into the fellowship area of First Street Church, where the women of the church had organized a silver wedding anniversary party for him and his wife Norma.
Twenty-some years ago, he chose Sweet Grove as a haven for raising children, mainly due to the sense of community he’d experienced when they visited the berg. A twist in his chest reminded him that the children they’d planned for never arrived, but Norma settled into the family of Sweet Grove without them.
Herman swiped a moist palm over his face. March and already it was too hot to sit in a parked vehicle. He’d grown up in the South, so the heat was nothing new. His fingers tugged on the Windsor knot at his throat, which felt like a hangman’s noose and raised his temperature ten degrees. Norma had bought a new shirt and fancy silk tie for him to wear to the party.
“Look how they match my dress.” She’d held the two hangers up in front of her.
The worry lines around her mouth had relaxed, and she’d smiled at his acquiescent nod. That smile had won him years ago. It lit her face, warm and inviting, like Texas sunshine.
He preferred the string ties and Western shirts he’d been wearing for his job with Macadam Rigging for the past twenty-five years. It was one benefit of working for a Texas-based company. Even when branch offices took him as far west at Arizona, he was never expected to give up his cowboy boots and dress.
The springs in the door squawked as he shoved it open. Hot air blasted him, but he swung his well-worn boots onto the ground and slammed the door.
Herman slapped the fender of the white truck. Flecks of rust marred the paint in spots. He’d bought the truck only months after purchasing the farm, twenty minutes outside of town and closer to Austin.
He gripped a bag from the Sweet Grove Market, his ticket for escaping the crowd of church folk, in one hand. He’d had to put the pastor’s wife in her place before he could fly the coop and purchase those few cans of juice and pop for the punch.
“You’re the guest of honor,” she had argued.
“I need a breath of air. I’m going, woman.”
Norma’s eyes had widened at his growling tone. Calling Tabitha Olsen “woman” hadn’t sounded very respectful, but he wasn’t about to apologize. These women were entirely too bossy, and it made him miss…but, no, he wasn’t thinking of that.
He swiped a hand across his forehead, conscious of his thinning hair. Age had found him, and he didn’t like it in the least. A man was meant to be virile and domineering, not stoop-shouldered and tired.
As he approached, a blonde-headed couple ducked through the doors and scurried behind a pecan tree. It had been months since Ben Davis married Iris’ niece Summer, but they still snuck around like newlyweds. A twist in his chest reminded him of what he’d been missing. Once they’d spent half their lives together, things would be different.
But as cold as it is in your bedroom?
Herman ignored the annoying voice. Ever since Macadam cut his Regional Sales Director position, random commentary flitted through his mind, aggravating to the nth degree. He was sick of the internal nagging.
A couple kids rushed out the door. Herman caught it on the back swing, glowering at the rude young’uns. Children should be seen and not heard, and apologize if they nearly ran over an adult. But they continued past as if he was invisible.
As he entered the fellowship hall, the pastor’s wife rushed him. She turned to call over her shoulder, “He’s here!”
Herman bristled. Norma whirled to face him, standing at the table beside a cake, some gifts, and a basket of cards. He didn’t need anything from these people, except maybe a little room to breathe. And he certainly didn’t want to be beholden to any of them.
Norma’s lips tilted up, and the furrows between her brows smoothed. She was still a fine-looking woman, her soft, full form alluring beneath the flowery dress. Desire stirred in his chest, but Herman ignored the sleeping giant.
People wished him a happy anniversary as he circumvented the crowd on a mission to reach the table. It was obvious they were waiting for him. A loose half-circle fanned around the gaudy cake. Girls with bottles of sparkling cider poured the golden liquid into narrow glasses.
When he stopped beside his wife, she tucked her hand beneath his elbow, fingers splayed over his forearm. Warmth seeped through him, and he shifted closer. With her other hand, Norma reached for a glass sitting beside the cake and handed it to him. As she picked up her drink, the overhead lights sparkled on the facets of her ring, nearly blinding him with its brilliance.
His chest swelled. The center stone was a one-carat princess-cut diamond, and the smaller diamonds surrounding it brought the total weight to two carats. With a ring like that, everyone would know her husband was a successful man who knew how to appreciate fine things and treat his wife well. He would do anything for Norma.
“Speeches.” Bernie Olsen raised his glass toward them. “What marital wisdom can you share?”
An itch clawed up Herman’s spine. The pastor had likely been married as long, and had a grown daughter and a grandson to prove it. Was he mocking them?
Norma’s breath tickled his jaw as she leaned close and whispered, “You first.”
Herman grunted and covered it by clearing his throat. He drew his business persona around him. He’d had decades to perfect it, and speaking to a bunch of church folks couldn’t be more daunting than facing oil men seeking a bargain.
“Sweet Grove has always welcomed me and Norma. Thank you for honoring us with this gathering.” Herman raised his glass.
Smiles faded on many faces. A few men exchanged glances with their wives. After an ominous pause, the pastor saluted with his drink.
Herman drank in unison with most of the crowd. Beside him, Norma barely sipped from her glass.
After a silent moment, she cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “Marriage is work, but the benefits are many. God has blessed me with a great provider.”
Herman’s gaze slid back to the diamond glinting on her finger.
“I don’t know if we have another twenty-five years, but we have each other. And the Lord.” She raised her drink a few inches.
Herman’s ears burned, dissecting the last things she’d said. Why wouldn’t they make it to their golden anniversary? Both of them were hale, right?
> As he sipped his cider, Herman studied his wife through narrowed eyes. Was she hiding something? Should he be worried about her?
His fingers tightened on the glass.
Norma set her drink aside and picked up a knife. She slid behind the table and cut a sliver off the rectangular cake. The words “Happy Anniversary Herman & Norma” were painted with glittery silver frosting on the smooth white surface.
She held a fork of cake toward him, so he slid closer. The walnut crumbs flecked with spices made his mouth water. He hoped it was his grandmother’s spice cake recipe, which had won ribbons at the county fair back in Oklahoma.
As he lowered his mouth to the fork, his mind flashed back to their wedding day. His grandmother’s cake was pinched between Norma’s fingertips. Her brown eyes glowed with excitement and adoration.
The cake touched his lips, and his mind returned to the present. Norma’s dull eyes stared at his chin rather than into his eyes. When had she last looked at him with loving admiration?
He shook the thoughts away, savoring the rum-laced flavor of the cake. Nutmeg, cloves, and cinnamon exploded on his tongue. The recipe was right, but he imagined it wasn’t quite as good as his grandmother’s.
Norma held the paper plate to him, another fork resting beside the sliver of cake. He stabbed it but the moist dessert crumbled. He scooped the portion with icing onto the plastic tines and held it toward Norma. Her head ducked and her lips opened.
Love's Little Secrets (Sweet Grove Romance Book 2; First Street Church #10) Page 1
