The Wedding Garden
Are You My Dad?The young boy's question shocks Sloan Hawkins. Until Sloan realizes he is this child's father. Years ago, the former bad boy was run out of Redemption, Oklahoma, where, ironically, he was thought unredeemable. The only people who believed in him were his beloved aunt and Annie Markham, the girl he loved and left behind. Now Sloan is back to face his past and help keep his aunt's cherished garden thriving. But when he discovers his secret child–and that single mother Annie never stopped loving him–he's determined that a wedding will take place in the garden nurtured by faith and love.
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His whole body had gone into shock the minute Annie stepped out of the kitchen.
She had blossomed from a pretty girl into a stunner. Seeing her again had made him feel weak and needy.
He despised weakness, particularly in himself. His childhood and the military had taught him that. Be strong. Be tough. Never let them see you sweat.
Encountering Annie had made him sweat.
Over the years the girl heâd been crazy about as a teen had lingered in his mind. A turn of phrase, a song on the radio, a woman with high cheekbones could start the memories flowing fast and painful.
She was none too happy to see him, either, but she had good reason. What she didnât know was that his reasons for leaving all those years ago were every bit as good as her reasons to despise him. He hadnât told her then, and he sure wouldnât tell her now why heâd had to leave Redemption.
He sighed. Protection was his business. Heâd loved Annie enough to protect her at eighteen.
Heâd protect her now with his silence.
LINDA GOODNIGHT
Winner of a RITA>® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won the Booksellersâ Best, ACFW Book of the Year and a Reviewersâ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and husband, Gene, live in Oklahoma. Readers can write to her at [email protected], or c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
âJohn 8:32
To my cousin Kay, for prayers, kind words, and for literally going the extra mile during a very difficult time. Thanks, âSusie.â
Contents
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
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Prologue
There was a man in the house. Again.
Sloanâs stomach got that funny, sick feeling like he was going to vomit. He hated when Mama brought someone home at night. Someone drunk and noisy. He knew what people said about her. Joni Hawkins was no good, like her jailbird husband. They gossiped, said dirty things about her. He was eleven. He wasnât stupid. He knew what the words meant.
They were all big fat liars.
He tiptoed down the dark hallway to the door, careful not to be heard. Mama would tell him to go back to bed. But he worried when she brought a man home.
He could hear them in there, but he couldnât make out the words. The manâs voice rumbled, rising at times. Then Mamaâs soothing tones would calm him down. She was good at soothing.
A narrow beam of light sliced along the edge of the wooden floor. Breath held, he placed his right eye against the skinny crack and slowly, slowly let the air ease out through his nose.
He couldnât see much. A flash of Mamaâs pink diner shirt. A manâs leg in dark pants. Dress-up pants. Sloan could see a big hand, too, held out toward Mama as though asking for something.
What was that on the manâs wrist? A watch? Sloan squeezed closer until the wood pressed hard into his face and his eyelashes folded back against his eyelid. Not a watch, a fancy bracelet with stones. Sloan held back a laugh, relaxing a little. Only a sissy would wear a bracelet like a girl. Who was in there?
âMama?â he said before he could stop the word.
The voices inside the room stilled. Footsteps moved toward him. The door cracked open the tiniest bit and Mamaâs face appeared.
âWhat are you doing up, Sloan?â
âWhoâs in there with you?â
âNobody important. Go back to bed. You have school tomorrow.â
More curious now than worried, he made no effort to leave. Mama reached out and smoothed his hair. âOn my next day off, weâll go fishing. Just me and you. Okay?â
When he nodded, his mama smiled. Then she shut the door.
He never saw her again.
Chapter One
Sloan Hawkins killed the purring Harley beneath the cool shade of a swaying willow, lowered the kickstand and stepped on to the leaf-strewn edge of Redemption River Bridge. A breeze sang through the green leaves and whispered around him, tickling like small fingers and bringing the wet scent of the red, muddy river to his nostrils.
Muscles stiff from long hours of riding, Sloan stretched in the May sunlight and listened to the crackle of his neck as he looked around. The river narrowed here, near the ancient bridge, then widened on its restless journey toward the town of Redemption. A knot had formed in his gut the moment the river had come into view. Redemption was a misnomer if he ever heard one. Condemnation was a better term.
Beneath the picturesque bridge, water trickled and gurgled, peaceful this time of year but still corroding the rocks and earth, eating away its foundationâa fitting metaphor for his hometown.
