Logan's Child
AT LONG LAST, JOYDebutante Trixie Dunaway was the darling of Dallas, the belle of the ball. She lived in a golden carefree world. Or so it seemed. For, like grains of sand, painful secrets wore away Trixie's soul. Her youthful infatuation with rebel Logan Maxwell had torn her apart. She'd been forced to abandon the beloved man–and her precious baby–forever.But now, years later, rugged Logan stood before her, a darling child at his side. Was this reunion a mirage or a miracle? Was God giving her a second chance? And could aching sorrow yield a pearl beyond price?Welcome to Love Inspired™–stories that will lift your spirits and gladden your heart. Meet men and women facing the challenges of today's world and learning important lessons about life, faith and love.
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Table of Contents
Trixie knew she couldnât hide from the truth forever.
Even though no one, absolutely no one, in Dallas knew about the baby, Trixie knew in her heart, knew in her soul, that somewhere out there she had a child.
It was her great secret, her great burden to bear. She had yet to forgive herself for her one youthful indiscretion, or for allowing those around her to force her to send her child away.
Sometimes she lay awake at night, asking God to help her bear the sorrow of her secret.
Did God ever hear her pleas? Could she ever be whole again?
Tomorrow she would face her past. Face the man she had loved so fiercely.
And Trixie desperately wished she could turn back timeâ¦
LENORA WORTH
grew up in a small Georgia town and decided in the fourth grade that she wanted to write. But first, she married her high school sweetheart, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Taking care of their baby daughter at home while her husband worked at night, Lenora discovered the world of romance novels and knew thatâs what she wanted to write. And so she began.
A few years later, the family settled in Shreveport, Louisiana, where Lenora continued to write while working as a marketing assistant. After the birth of her second child, a boy, she decided to pursue full time her dream of writing. In 1993, Lenoraâs hard work and determination finally paid off with that first sale.
âI never gave up, and I believe my faith in God helped get me through the rough times when I doubted myself,â Lenora says. âEach time I start a new book, I say a prayer, asking God to give me the strength and direction to put the words to paper. Thatâs why Iâm so thrilled to be a part of Steeple Hillâs Love Inspired line, where I get to combine my faith in God with my love of romance. Itâs the best combination.â
Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.
âPsalm 126:5-6
For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
âPsalm 30:5
To my best friend and neighbor, Cindy Sledge, my own âPig Pal.â And to all the mothers who love their children, even when they canât be with them. You are not forgotten.
A hot, humid September wind whipped across the flat countryside as mourners dressed in fashionable funeral black filed out of the small country church just outside Plano, Texas. Mingling together beside the expensive sports cars and chauffeur-driven limousines lining the graveled driveway, the elite crowd talked in hushed, respectful tones.
Tricia Maria Dunaway looked around at the cream of Dallas society, here to say their final farewells to her father, the famous bull rider, Brant Dunaway. Her mind was numb with grief and shock; her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses that did little to relieve the harsh glare of the bright Texas sun. Beside her, her fiance Radford Randolph III, looking as dapper as always in his dark navy summer suit, stood with one arm solicitously touching her elbow.
âCâmon, honey,â her grandfather, Harlan Dunaway, said, his usually firm voice shaky. âWeâve got to get back to the Hideaway. Peopleâll be coming around to pay their respects and itâs up to us to be there to greet them.â
Her mother, Pamela, pale and dark-haired, elegant and slender, in a black linen sheath and cultured pearls, nodded her agreement. âGranddaddyâs right, Trixie. We wouldnât want to be rude to all these good people who came to your daddyâs funeral.â
Trixie looked straight ahead. âNo, Mama, Dunaways canât ever be rude, can we? I mean, what would people think?â
Pamelaâs brown eyes held a glint as cold and hardedged as the huge marquis diamond in her necklace. âIâm going to ignore that remark, Tricia Maria, only because I know losing your father has been a great strain on you.â
With a halfhearted effort, Trixie reached up a black-gloved hand to touch her motherâs still smooth cheekbone. âIâm sorry, Mama. I know you gave up a trip to Palm Beach to make it to Daddyâs funeral. I guess I shouldnât be mean to you.â
âNo, you shouldnât,â Pamela retorted, her smile, exacted for the benefit of prying eyes, as intact as her unruffled classic bob. âEven though your father and I were divorced, I still had feelings for the man.â
Trixie didnât respond. Sheâd heard it all too many times before. Too many times. Not even Radâs gentle endearments could bring her out of her deep grief.
Sheâd sat here in the church were sheâd attended services all of her life and listened as Reverend Henry told them to rejoice in Brantâs departure from this life.
