The Wedding Garden (5 page)

She swallowed the heavy dose of regret mixed with
dismay. Raising a son was far more important than a test and she couldn’t afford to fail.

Grateful for Sloan’s support, she latched on to his strong, manly fingers. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone besides herself to lean on.

“Chuck Staley is pressing charges,” her father was saying. “So my hands are tied. Says he wants to make an example out of the police chief’s grandson. You’ll have to pay restitution and he’ll likely be on probation.”

Twice before, Justin had been in scrapes and his grandfather had dealt with it. “Where is he?”

“Here at the police station. I would have taken him home but I couldn’t find you.” The statement was an accusation. He was upset because she was in the same house with Sloan. His ulcer would perforate if he knew they’d shared a companionable meal and conversation. If he knew they were holding hands, he’d explode.

“I’ll meet you at my house in ten minutes. Okay?”

“Right. And Annie?”

“What?”

“Don’t bring Hawkins.”

The kid was driving her nuts.

Sloan parked his bike outside the bank and stepped up on the curb. Giant pots of red and white flowers flanked the clear glass doors of First National of Redemption.

His cash flow was running low and he was here to deal with the formalities of opening an account, but his brain was still dealing with the problem of Annie’s son.

This latest incident had just about shattered her. Oh, she’d acted tough, but he knew Annie. Those big green eyes had swum with unshed tears and her voice had quivered when she was on the phone with her father.

He was disturbed at how badly he’d wanted to take her in his arms and give her the comfort she needed. He’d offered to go with her, too, to deal with the boy. Her refusal didn’t surprise him, but the rejection he’d felt did.

This morning, she’d brought Justin with her to Lydia’s. The kid had been his usual sulky self, but he was also more subdued. According to Annie, she was not letting him out of her sight the rest of the summer. He almost felt sorry for the boy. Whatever was eating the kid was not going to go away just because his mother was watching him every minute. The kid needed to be busy, not sitting on the couch playing video games while Annie worked to replace the broken windows. The restitution should be Justin’s, not hers.

Why he should care about Annie’s problems or Annie’s troubled kid, he didn’t know. But he did.

Stewing on that bothersome revelation, Sloan went inside the air-conditioned bank. At a teller’s window, he stated his business and waited for the paperwork. Housed in a historical building dating back to 1903 like most of the town’s main street, the exterior of the bank hadn’t changed much since he’d been gone, but the interior boasted new glass-enclosed offices and a bevy of loan desks.

The clerk returned with the papers. Sloan signed and then took the envelope of bills, stuffing it into his jeans pocket.

As he turned to leave, an all-too-familiar voice stopped him.

“Hawkins.”

Sloan sighed and turned around.

Police Chief Dooley Crawford stepped away from the next teller. “Borrowing money to pay your fines?”

Annie’s father was thinner than most men his age, but still tall and mean-looking. Sloan had no doubt he still evoked fear in the local teenagers.

“Been harassing any other citizens, Chief? Or am I special?”

Dooley’s face hardened. “A man with your reputation needs to be real careful that he doesn’t end up in jail, if you get my drift. You steer clear of my daughter. You hear?”

“Seems like I’ve heard that warning before.”

“And last time you had sense enough to run while you could. We don’t need your kind in this town.”

“And what kind would that be? A law-abiding citizen come home to take care of his ailing aunt?”

Dooley sneered. “You can’t fool me. You’re here to cause trouble, just like your daddy and mama.”

Sloan bristled. “My mama never hurt a soul.”

“No? Well, she left her worthless kid to terrorize the town and keep the cops busy.”

Sloan’s hands fisted at his side. His years in the military and as a business leader had taught him self-discipline. And he needed every bit of it to keep from punching out the local law.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Dooley. And I don’t scare. This may come as a nasty surprise—and I hope it does—but you did me a favor twelve years ago. What you meant for harm turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Dooley’s narrow lips lifted in an imitation smile. “Be glad to do it again, boy.”

Sloan laughed and walked away. He could feel the icy daggers of Dooley’s stare against his back.

Once outside on the sidewalk, he drew in a breath of fresh, cleansing air, but his pulse pounded wildly in his ears. For those few seconds under Dooley’s glare, he’d felt like a worthless teenager again.

“Sloan. Sloan Hawkins, wait up.”

Sloan emitted a low growl. Someone was about to get an earful because he was in no mood for another snide remark. Not even one.

“What?” he barked, one hand on the handlebars of his bike, eager to escape as soon as possible.

Two women came toward him, toting shopping bags. He recognized one as Kitty Wainright, a former schoolmate and owner of the Redemption Motel. She’d been Kitty Bates back then, dating Dave Wainright. According to Aunt Lydia, Kitty was a widow now, Dave lost in the Middle East wars. Lousy deal. The other was a woman with ink-black hair and a cop’s walk. He could spot a trained police officer a mile away.

“Sloan, this is my friend, Cheyenne Rhodes. We overheard what Chief Crawford said and we want you to know something.”

Sloan nodded as politely as he could toward the women. Lydia had received an invitation to Cheyenne’s upcoming wedding. An invitation that included him.

“Yeah?”

“Not everyone in Redemption agrees with what Chief Crawford just said. Most people never did.”

“Is that a fact?” Sloan couldn’t remember anyone but Annie and Lydia ever defending him.

“Yes, it is. Lots of folks back then talked about how Dooley had it in for you. Apparently, he can’t let bygones be bygones.”

Sloan relaxed a little. “Some of his animosity was well-earned.”

“Well, maybe.” Kitty laughed, a pretty, musical sound that lifted his mood. “But that was a long time ago when we were crazy kids. We all did goofy things, and Dooley was scared to death you were going to marry his baby girl.”

Sloan kept quiet on that one. He
would
have married Annie if Dooley hadn’t forced him out of town.

“Annie says you’ve been awesome to Lydia and to her, and that’s enough for us.”

Annie had said that? She’d been talking about him?

“I appreciate it. Thanks.” He was too stunned to say anything else.

Kitty hitched a shopping bag higher on one arm. “Redemption is a nice town. The majority of people care about their neighbors and will do anything to help you out. Everyone is not like Chief Crawford.”

Sloan’s thoughts flashed to the fresh vegetables, the visitors, Mrs. Miller at the Garden Center. But those had been for Lydia, not for him, not for that Hawkins boy. Right?

“Redemption draws people, Sloan. I believe God has led you home for more reasons than your dear aunt.” While he was digesting the cryptic comment, she switched gears on him. “Well, we’ve got to run. Weddings don’t plan themselves.” She and Cheyenne looked at each other and laughed. “When you get that garden fixed up, we expect an invitation to see it, okay?”

They’d heard about the garden, too?

“Yes, sure.” Though he hated thinking the thoughts, he wanted the garden finished while Lydia was around to enjoy the results. “But it’s taking longer than I’d like.”

“If you need help, Redemption is loaded with teenagers looking for summer jobs.”

And that’s when Sloan had a great idea.

Justin sat slumped on the couch, staring belligerently at nothing. Annie sighed and started down the hall toward Lydia’s room.

Lord, show me what to do about my son.

Instead of better behavior since the incident, he’d grown more sullen. Even Delaney couldn’t get a smile out of him. Thank goodness this job with Lydia was mostly private duty for a friend or she would have been fired days ago.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Annie’s stomach leaped.
Annoyed, she pressed a hand there and paused, waiting for Sloan to pass so they didn’t have a repeat collision. She was still thinking about that moment in his arms far too much.

Sloan appeared, as deliciously disheveled as usual in faded jeans and a camo-green T-shirt, only today he’d exchanged the chain-laden boots for a pair of sneakers. He rounded the stairs, entered the living room and went to stand between Justin and the television set. After a quick, rueful glance toward Annie, he tossed a baseball mitt into Justin’s lap.

The surprised boy
oomphed
and curled inward.

“What’s this?” Justin picked up the gleaming new Rawlings glove and turned it over and over in his hands.

“You gonna play, you gotta learn to field a ground ball.” Sloan bounced a snow-white baseball in one palm.

Justin’s face closed up tighter than a clamshell. “Who said I wanted to play baseball anyway?”

“With your arm? You’re kidding me, right?” Sloan lobbed the ball. Justin caught it in his bare hand.

“I got kicked off, remember?”

“Yeah, well, if you prove yourself, you can still make baseball camp next month.”

Justin’s posture straightened; a hopeful yearning came over him. “You talked to Coach?”

“So what if I did?” Sloan stabbed a finger at the surprised boy. “You gonna make me sorry?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know.” He shrugged, looking so bewildered that Annie wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Come on, then. Move it. We got an hour to practice before your mother goes home. And I got a proposition for you.”

Looking confused and suspicious, Justin took his sweet time unfolding all the lanky arms and legs from the couch, but Annie could feel an underlying excitement coming off her son. She wanted to hug Sloan.

“You really think I got a good arm?” Justin asked as the two of them headed for the French doors.

“No doubt about it, kid.” Sloan clapped Justin on the shoulder. “You just gotta learn to use it appropriately.”

Heart clutching in her chest for all that wasn’t and all that might have been, Annie watched the man she’d once loved encourage her son in a way Joey never had. Justin was desperate for a man’s attention, someone other than his grandfather, who alternately spoiled and ignored him.

Lord, I don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified. Give me wisdom.

As if Sloan knew she was still standing at the end of the hall staring his way with a longing too strong to ignore, he glanced back over one shoulder and winked.

A
nnie helped Lydia from the bed to the chair next to the wide windows overlooking the gardens. The older woman was growing weaker each day and slept more than she was awake. Sloan was usually hovering in the doorway when his aunt opened her eyes, an action that pinched Annie’s heart.

As she adjusted the oxygen tubing, she asked, “Would you like a snack, or something to drink? You haven’t eaten much today. I have some fresh melon and strawberries.”

The move from bed to chair had taken a toll. Lydia, still catching her breath, only shook her head. Until recently, she’d read or crochet while sitting up, but this week, Sloan had begun reading to her, and the beginnings of a stocking cap for the orphan ministry lay unfinished in the basket.

Lydia was determined to attend the upcoming wedding of Cheyenne Rhodes and the local vet, Trace Bowman, but after these last few days, Annie had her doubts.

“I’m not sure you should try to go Saturday.”

She adjusted her patient’s lap robe, fussing with it more than was necessary. Annie had come to love this woman when she was a child and she loved her even more now that they
were together every day. The idea of losing her grew more and more difficult to accept. She could only imagine how Sloan was feeling.

Lydia patted her hand. “I’ll be fine, honey. Stop worrying. Sloan promised to take me.”

“He did?”

Lydia’s chuckle turned to a cough, and another minute passed before she could speak again. “He’s a good man, Annie. I think you know that in your heart. Don’t be afraid of him.” She nodded toward the window. “Just look out there.”

Annie had resisted watching Sloan with Justin, but now she did. The lacy white curtains were drawn to the sides in a swoop, giving a full view of the backyard through the large double windows. As she observed, a lump in her throat, Sloan fired a fast grounder toward Justin. Her son crouched low, scooped up the ball and fired it back. Sloan said something and grinned. Justin’s laugh seeped through the walls of the house and into Annie’s soul. When was the last time she’d heard her little boy laugh with real joy?

“But why hasn’t Sloan been here for you before now, Lydia? Why did he leave you alone all this time?”
And why did he run out on me when I would have stood by him no matter what he’d done?

“Oh, honey, Sloan has always been here for me.”

Annie turned from the window. “Then why haven’t I seen him? Is he the invisible man?”

Lydia chuckled. “Just because he wasn’t here in person doesn’t mean he wasn’t in contact. Who do you think took me to Italy and France and all those other places? Who do you think paid for the repairs on this old house and anything else I need? Coming home was too hard, but Sloan has never forgotten his old auntie.” Lydia stopped for air, the sound ragged and harsh in the quiet room. “Now, don’t you tell him I said
a word. He’s funny about that. Never wants credit for anything good he does.”

The revelation stunned Annie. She looked out at the scene in the backyard, felt that clutching again in her chest, and wondered what else she didn’t know about Sloan Hawkins.

“If you have something to tell him, Annie, don’t wait too long. Time has a way of slipping by.”

Annie jerked her attention from the window to Lydia, pulse bumping. “What do you mean?”

“Remember that verse in the Bible? ‘The truth will set you free?’ It applies in a lot of situations.”

The truth. She’d lived half-truths and plain old lies for so long, Annie wasn’t sure she knew the truth anymore.

She blew out a sigh. “How long have you known?”

“If you’re talking about Justin, I didn’t know for sure. But I’ve suspected for a long time. Seeing the two of them together—well, I just knew.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Lydia reached out and took her hand. “I love you, Annie girl. You’re like a daughter to me. I never wanted to embarrass you or add to your hurt, and I sure never wanted to interfere in anyone else’s business, but now that I’m dying, I’ve become a selfish old lady. I want things settled.”

Tears filled Annie’s eyes. “Oh, Lydia, I love you.”

Lydia patted her hand. “Be kind to my boy. He’s got a ways to go before all the wounds are healed. I thought I’d live to see him happy, but—”

Suddenly, Sloan’s cell phone burst into song. The device rang or chirped with text messages dozens of times a day, so she was surprised to see the black rectangle lying on the windowsill in Lydia’s room.

“He forgot that noisy thing when he was in earlier,” Lydia said. “Do you mind taking it to him?”

Head spinning, Annie was sorry for the interruption, but she took the phone and headed outside. Never once in twelve years had she told a single person other than Joey. And though he’d assured her he didn’t care, in the end he’d despised her for her sin. Would Sloan hate her, too, if he knew? Worse yet, would she lose her son? He was already a bubbling cauldron of emotional issues. Would the truth about his parentage send him over the edge?

Since the day Sloan had arrived, she’d prayed for God to show her what to do. He hadn’t. With this growing appreciation of the man she’d vowed to despise, she was more perplexed than ever.

The June warmth wrapped an arm around her as she jogged down the steps toward the pair of moody males. The summer blooms that had survived in Lydia’s garden were wilting, even though Sloan had made progress on ripping out weeds and unwanted mimosa sprouts. He still had a big job to do. Annie hoped Lydia would live long enough to see her garden restored.

A baseball smacked against leather.

“No way,” Justin was saying.

“Won’t kill you, kid. You owe your mom big-time.”

Justin took the ball from the glove pocket and looked it over with undue interest. “Yeah, I know.”

Annie stopped. He did?

“A man pays his debts.” Sloan raised his baseball mitt, a glove as disreputable as its owner’s jeans. Where had he found that? “Give me your best shot.”

“Pretty brave, dude. I got heat.” Justin grinned, wound up like a pro pitcher and threw hard, grunting with the effort. The ball went wide left toward the picket fence, and Sloan missed the catch. He loped to the fence and as he did, he spotted Annie standing inside the garden gate.

“Your phone,” she called, waving the device overhead. By now, the caller had given up, but the message signal had beeped.

Sloan slapped at his pants pocket as though he couldn’t believe he’d left the phone somewhere. The device was part of his body.

“Thanks.” He under-handed the ball to Justin. “Take five, kid. Let’s run my offer past your mother.”

Justin’s sulk returned. “Whatever.”

Annie went to join them beneath the shade of a mimosa. “What offer?”

“Justin broke the windows,” Sloan said. “He should pay for them himself. I offered him a job working on Aunt Lydia’s garden with me. Minimum wage. Bonus if he’s worth it.”

Annie’s heart leaped into her throat. “Seriously? You’d do that?”

“I need the help. He needs the job. Right, Justin?”

Justin allowed a shoulder hitch, eyes averted to be sure the adults knew how disinterested he was. “Sure, whatever.”

A grin broke over Sloan’s face. “I like this kid. Great attitude. Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

The joking comment was like ice water in Annie’s face. Emotions jumbled and another headache starting, she turned back to the house and her patient. She had some serious praying to do.

Sloan hated weddings.

For the dozenth time in the last hour, he adjusted the new silk tie he’d had to buy for this wedding of two people he barely knew. But his aunt asked for so little, and if attending the wedding of two friends was that important to her, he was going to see that she not only attended, but that she had a good time and was well cared for. Not that Annie wasn’t hovering like a mother hen.

He grinned a little at that. She’d done everything possible to talk Lydia out of going, but his aunt had insisted, stating
that she’d prayed for those two to be healed from their heartaches and joined in love, and she was not about to miss God’s handiwork coming to fruition. After that, Annie had given in and begun her meticulous preparations to give Lydia the day she wanted.

So had Sloan. After a hard, sweaty day in the sunny garden with the sulky but surprisingly useful Justin, he’d come inside to shower and dress while Annie whisked the kid home to get herself ready. He liked the boy, another surprise, just as he liked the cute little Delaney, who spent most days with her grandma, but on others roamed in and out of Lydia’s house with glasses of lemonade or drawings for them to admire.

Annie’s kids. He plopped down on the foot of the ancient four-poster and stared at his gleaming black shoes. Their old man didn’t know what he was missing. Joey needed his behind kicked for throwing Annie and the kids aside. Justin, in particular, needed his father.

With a grunt, Sloan tossed the comb on the counter. Nothing he could do about Joey’s problems, or even Annie’s, for that matter.

He shrugged into his suit jacket and checked himself out in the mirror one final time. A spritz of cologne and he’d do. At least he wouldn’t shame his aunt, and Redemption wouldn’t run backward today when they got a load of that Hawkins boy.

The radio clock gleamed red from the nightstand. Sloan grimaced. Time to get the show on the road. After straightening his tie one last time, he jogged down the stairs.

From the front entry came the sound of voices. Annie and her kids had arrived. Butterflies fluttered in his belly. He rolled his eyes at the juvenile reaction and went to greet the trio.

With the two children in front of her, Annie glanced up just as he appeared in the hallway. Dark blond hair backlit by the
sunlight coming in from the overhead transom, she looked like an angel. Sloan’s butterflies returned. To date, he’d only seen her dressed in work scrubs. Today she wore high heels and some kind of flowy print dress in a shade of green that drew attention to her eyes and her curvy figure. Long, dangly pearls dripped from her earlobes and a simple pearl bracelet slid up and down on one wrist. He didn’t want to notice, but like a man too long in the Sahara he drank in the beautiful sight.

“Wow,” he said, in spite of himself. His pulse kicked up and shot a zing of energy into his bloodstream. Annie Markham was a knockout, a woman any man would be proud to have at his side.

He bit back the reaction. All the reasons she couldn’t be by
his
side rolled around in his gut until he was nauseous.

Her generous mouth widened in a smile. Was that a blush of pleasure he detected on those unforgettable cheeks? “Wow yourself. Look at you in a suit and tie.”

Determined to keep a light tone in spite of the leap of longing eating a hole inside him, he rubbed his smooth jawline. “Shaved, too. What do ya think?”

“I think you look—” Sloan’s confidence rose as Annie’s gaze roamed over his navy blue suit and red tie. Her mouth opened and closed as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say. She finally ended with “—distinguished.”

“Distinguished?” He pretended hurt. “You might as well have said ‘Presentable.’”

“Well, you’re that, too,” she answered, with a small laugh.

“What about handsome and manly and super-hunk?”

Justin interrupted with a noise of disgust. “You two are boring. Can we go now?”

“But, Justin,” little Delaney said. “They do look pretty. You look pretty, too.”

The boy had changed remarkably in the last couple of
hours. Somehow Annie had coaxed him into dark, crisply creased slacks and a white button-up shirt with a blue tie. His ragged sneakers had been replaced with black dress shoes, his hair was moist with hair gel, and he looked as stiff as his shoes probably felt. Sloan felt his pain.

Justin rolled his eyes in that familiar way he had of showing total disgust. “Guys aren’t pretty. We dress up because women make us. Right, Sloan?”

Sloan grinned. “No comment, buddy. I don’t have a death wish. Just remember what I told you. Keep your eye on the prize.”

“Oh, yeah. Cake and punch.”

They bumped fists. “Right.”

Not to be outdone, Delaney insinuated herself between the two males. Sloan emitted a low whistle of admiration. “Let me see that dress you’re wearing, Miss Delaney Doodle-bug.”

She giggled. “You’re silly.”

Then she preened for him, spinning in a circle on her white sandals so that her skirt and her long blond hair twirled. “This was my Easter dress but I still like it. Purple is my favorite color.”

No surprise there. Half the drawings she’d done for him featured some shade of purple.

“You’re a beauty.” He looked above her head to where Annie was standing. Their gazes connected and held.

Everything in him wanted to say “Gorgeous like your mother,” but he was treading on thin ice today emotionally. No point in getting himself kicked in the teeth.

Seeing Annie dressed up for a wedding was doing weird things to him.

“We’d better get Lydia in the car and go,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended.

Annie moistened her lips and nodded. “I parked by the ramp you installed.”

“Thanks for taking your car.”

The comment seemed to break the tension. “I doubt she would ride on your Harley.”

“Sure she would,” he said, joking.

But would Annie?

Sloan hissed at the unwanted question. He and Annie were over long ago. Why were his head and his heart going crazy today?

Redemption Fellowship was humming with quiet conversation as Annie guided her two children and her patient down the aisle. Sloan pushed Lydia’s wheelchair, the fingers of his hands tense against the handles. She knew he was anxious about attending church, but he hid it well behind the confident swagger that had driven her father mad and fueled her teenage crush.

Heads turned as they passed and people nodded or called out a greeting. Sloan’s return greeting was almost grim. He had been defensive for so long, expecting everyone to reject him, that she wondered if he could see the admiration on the faces around them. She had always thought him the handsomest man she’d ever known, but in a dress shirt that matched his blue eyes and a red tie that accented his dark hair, he was the stuff dreams were made of. Her dreams, anyway.