Free The Wedding Garden by Linda Goodnight Page A

a champion to battered women, floated down the aisle on her father’s arm. Her dark beauty was glorious in a long, ivory dress of simple design, her ink-black hair lying in wispy layers on her bare shoulders.
    The ceremony began and Annie couldn’t help watching thefaces of the guests. Half the town was here. Miriam and Hank Martinelli from the Sugar Shack—who had, no doubt, created the cake du jour—exchanged frequent glances that made Annie smile. The couple had been married for years, but their devotion burned bright.
    Kitty Wainright, the maid of honor, sniffled. Jace Carter, a local building contractor, was watching the pretty motel owner with such intensity, Annie began to wonder. Did Kitty have an admirer? If she did, would she ever let go of her memories and take a chance on love again?
    Lydia coughed and Annie’s attention snapped to her, but Sloan had leaned forward, blocking her view. After a moment, he sat back and she could see that her patient was all right.
    She turned her attention back to the ceremony. Trace and Cheyenne, gazing at each other with trust and adoration, repeated their vows. A hot knot tightened in Annie’s chest—a knot of yearning to love and be loved forever. Tears gathered in her eyes. She always cried at weddings but today with the memories of the past sitting an arm’s length away, the emotion was raw.
    Despite her determination not to, she sneaked a peak around her daughter. Sloan’s jaw was hard as granite and he swallowed often, a sign she recognized as emotion. Was Sloan feeling it, too? This painful case of what-might-have-been? What if Sloan had never left town? What if they had married? Would they have stood before the church with friends and family surrounding them, breathing in the scent of gardenias and candle smoke?
    Sloan chose that moment to glance her way and caught her staring. She held on to his gaze, trying to read him, but his blue eyes burned with some emotion she couldn’t identify. A muscle twitched in his cheek, and after a moment when Annie thought her heart would jump right out of her chest, he rotated toward Lydia and whispered something.
    Blinking back tears, Annie looked down at the tissue she’d twisted to bits in her lap.
    What a foolish woman she was. Sloan was here for Lydia, not for her. The emotional wedding atmosphere had put sappy, nostalgic thoughts in her head. That was all.
    Sloan Hawkins had left of his own free will and never looked back, giving her no thought or consideration. The last thing she and her children needed was another man they couldn’t count on.

Chapter Six
    “H ey, Sloan, can I ask you something?”
    Sloan paused in digging a hickory scrub out of Lydia’s roses to lean on his shovel. Something had been eating at the kid all morning. Something was eating at him, too, and her name was Annie, which was part of the reason he and Justin were out here in the hottest part of the day. Ever since the wedding, when Annie had looked at him with tears floating in those big green eyes, he’d known he was in more trouble than Chief Dooley could ever manufacture.
    She’d nearly melted him with that look, and though he knew better than to read anything into it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He also couldn’t stop thinking about Annie and Joey standing before a preacher somewhere getting married. His gut churned every time that picture entered his head. Like now.
    With more force than necessary, he tossed the shovel aside and whipped off dirty leather gloves to backhand a drenched brow.
    “Sure,” he said to Justin. “Take five. Grab some water.”
    Justin set aside the bag of fertilizer he was dumping intoa wheelbarrow and removed his gloves, slapping them on the side of his leg the way Sloan had. The boy, though thin and lanky, was surprisingly strong for an eleven-year-old. His face dripped with sweat and his white T-shirt would never see clean again. Sloan figured it was good for him to sweat out some of that anger