Free The Welcome Home Garden Club by Lori Wilde Page B

that awful day when Hiram Malone, the private eye she’d hired to find Gideon, met her in the park with the file folder in his hand. She’d known before he’d ever said a word. He’d sat down in the park swing beside her. She’d been eighteen by then and four months pregnant, wearing blousy tops to hide her growing midriff from her father, knowing that soon he would guess the truth.
    “It’s bad news, isn’t it?” she’d whispered, bracing herself.
    But there was no bracing for the words that robbed her of all hope. Malone spoke softly. She barely heard him over the creaking of her swing. She was rocking, back and forth, back and forth. Knowing, dreading, fearing.
    “Gideon Garza died in battle serving his country,” Malone had said. “He was a brave and honorable man.”
    She’d sat there for a moment, praying she’d heard wrong. “No.”
    “Yes.” He’d opened the folders, pulled out papers.
    It couldn’t be. How could it be? Gideon had been her destiny. Her soul mate. Her one true love. If he was dead, then she was dead. Her life was over. She wanted to die.
    And then for the first time, she’d felt Danny move. A fluttering inside her belly. Soft, but distinct. Movement. Gideon’s son. A piece of him was living on inside her.
    The moment was so surreal she could not absorb it all. Emotions of every kind and facet poked and prodded her. Anger, hope, regret, joy, fear, sadness, exhilaration. It was a mad jumble that set her pulse to jumping and her stomach rocking.
    She stood on the precipice. Her inner urge was to fling herself into Gideon’s arms, but he looked so changed. It had been eight long years, and she no longer had any idea who he was. And if he wasn’t dead, why hadn’t he come home before now?
    He swiveled his head, cast a glance at her from the corner of his eye. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to finger his jacket, but he jerked back.
    “Don’t,” he snapped.
    Hurt, she dropped her arm.
    His eyes narrowed. His jaw hardened, but his tone softened. “Just don’t.”
    Pain at his rejection cut deep. What was wrong with him? What had happened to make him so hard? It must have been something terrible. She didn’t know what to do. It was all too much. Seeking the only thing she knew that could ground her, she pivoted and went back to the van. Danny. She had to get to her son.
    Caitlyn slammed the back doors closed, climbed into the front seat, and with fingers so numb she couldn’t feel the keys, she started the engine and drove away.

Chapter Five
    Traditional meaning of almond blossom—hope and watchfulness.
    W edding ring. On the third finger of her left hand. Simple gold band. The realization solidified in Gideon’s mind like cement.
    Caitlyn was married.
    Feeling like he’d lost the last hope worth living for, Gideon stared after the retreating van, as did everyone else in the pavilion. After Caitlyn disappeared from sight down the winding road, people converged, peppering him with questions.
    “Where have you been?”
    “We heard you were dead.”
    “Why haven’t you come home before now?”
    “Goodness, Gideon, you’re better-looking than ever.”
    In the past, he might have enjoyed the attention, but not anymore.
    He raised his palm, growled. “I came to see J. Foster Goodnight put into the ground. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me in peace until that task is accomplished.”
    But of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
    His older half brother, Bowie Goodnight, stalked over and shoved his face into Gideon’s. He smelled like a distillery and wore an expensive black suit with a fat paisley blue tie that made him look like a 1970s undertaker.
    “You’re not wanted here,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Leave.”
    “Actually,” Gideon said coolly, “I’m afraid to burst your bubble. But our old man invited me.”
    “Bullshit!” Bowie curled his hands into fists, leaned inward, crowding Gideon’s personal space. “And you’re not my