The Welcome Home Garden Club (23 page)

“Oh Gideon, yes, yes. I’ll marry you.” She flung her arms around his neck and he kissed her for a very long time.

“And tomorrow,” he said at last. “Tomorrow we can tell Danny I’m his dad? That we’re getting married?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

He slipped the ring on her finger and a joy unlike anything she’d ever known overwhelmed her. “I love you still,” he whispered, “and always will.”

She pulled him down on the bed on top of her, let out a soft little moan of pleasure, and opened her legs to him.

He slid into her welcoming wetness. The moonlight through the open window shone down on his dear face. She stared into his eyes and moved her body to fit him. She caressed his rugged face with her soft hands, cooed sweet nothings in a lyrical tone. But soon the soft cooing turned to gritty groans and heated gasps. He made her feel like the most cherished woman on earth.

“I love your sexy little sounds,” he said. “I could listen to them for the rest of my life and die a happy, happy man.”

And when her release came, he twined their right hands together above her head and rocked into her with one fierce thrust.

She arched her back, eager to meet him, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in as deep as he could go. Their fingers fused, gazes welded as they came in one shattering shudder.

One. Forever. Man and wife.

Chapter Twenty-one

Traditional meaning of marigold—cruelty.

C
aitlyn awoke at dawn and smiled up at the ceiling. Gideon’s legs were tangled in hers. She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. This was really, truly real. She was now engaged to the man she once thought dead. She held up her hand, gazed admiringly at her ring.

She would love to roll over and tickle him awake with her mouth to his anatomy, but there wasn’t time to luxuriate in their lusty love. This was her last chance to put the finishing touches on her work of art. She was prouder of that victory garden than anything she’d ever done in her life, excluding Danny and Gideon, of course.

But she’d no sooner swung her legs over the edge of the bed than there was a knock at the door. In a scramble, she hunted for her clothes. Gideon sat up, hair mussed.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

The knock came again.

“Caitlyn?” Patsy said. “Are you in there with Gideon?”

Her eyes met Gideon’s.

“Small-town gossip,” he said. “You gotta love it.”

“Caitlyn, please open the door, I have terrible news.”

Danny!

Caitlyn flung open the door as she stuck her unbuttoned blouse into the waistband of her skirt. On the bed, Gideon drew the covers to his neck. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Patsy looked on the verge of tears. Patsy was one tough cookie. The expression on the older woman’s face struck terror in Caitlyn’s heart. “You have to come with me now.”

Caitlyn grabbed Patsy’s arm. “Is it Danny? Has something happened?”

“Not Danny.”

“Oh, oh.” She couldn’t catch her breath. Not Danny. Thank God. Then another awful thought occurred to her. “My father?”

Patsy shook her head. “The garden.”

“What?”

“Just come.” Caitlyn jammed her feet in her shoes, buttoned up her blouse, and followed Patsy.

“I’m right behind you,” Gideon called out.

Patsy’s mouth was a thin, tight line as she marched from the B&B and stalked toward the town square. Caitlyn could barely keep up with her. Somehow, probably because he’d been in the military and knew how to hike, Gideon caught up with them just as they turned the corner to the victory garden. The plywood boards that had been put up to keep the tourists out were still up, so Caitlyn couldn’t see what had Patsy in such an uproar until they were upon it.

Patsy pushed back one of the plywood boards. “Go in.”

Caitlyn stepped inside, at first saw nothing but the backsides of all the garden club members and then . . .

Devastation.

She halted beside Belinda Murphey, who stood there dabbing a Kleenex at the tears in the corners of her eyes. Dotty Mae murmured something, but Caitlyn heard nothing. It was as if she’d suddenly gone deaf. Every bit of her attention was focused on her garden.

Or rather, what had once been her garden.

Everything had been demolished, destroyed, damaged.

Fragile petals lay stomped into the dirt. Twisted roots and broken stems were strewn like bodies over a battlefield. Leaves fluttered, no longer tethered to the branches.

Shattered pieces of clay pots littered the lot. The white picket fencing had been kicked over, ravaged with boot prints. And the yellow ribbons, meant as symbols of welcome home for Twilight’s brave servicemen and women, had been ripped from the oak trees fronting the garden.

All their hard work, all their hopes and dreams, ruined beyond redemption.

Trembling, Caitlyn pushed forward, dropped to her knees in the dirt, cupped a decapitated rosebud in the palm of her hand, smelled the rich rosy scent. A tear slipped down her cheek, swiftly followed by another and another until tears rained from her eyes. Her heart wrenched. She hadn’t felt this devastated since she’d thought Gideon had died.

Her stomach churned and she retched. Who could have done such a horrible, cruel thing?

Belinda handed her a Kleenex and she wiped at her eyes and mouth. It wasn’t so much that the contest was lost to them, rather, it was the murder of the beautiful flowers that killed her soul.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Dotty Mae murmured, and put a hand to Caitlyn’s shoulder. “All your hard work.”

“Did anyone see anything?” she heard Sheriff Crouch ask the crowd. “Hear anything?”

Caitlyn curved her shoulders inward, her head throbbing miserably. She’d wanted this garden so much. First for the money, then to honor Gideon, and after that to prove that she could build the most romantic garden in the state. To show she could be something more than just a small-town girl in her small-town world. Now, even that simple dream had been destroyed.

“Caitlyn.” Gideon’s voice was low and concerned.

She tilted her head up, met his tender gaze. “Why?”

He reached down his hand, helped her up off the ground. “I don’t know, baby,” he cooed. “But I’m going to find out who did this and hold them responsible.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “The damage is done. The fruits and vegetables are ruined, the herbs and spices yanked up by their roots. All those pretty flowers.”

He pulled her against him, held her tight. “Winning that contest meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “It did. And even if we didn’t win, I would have given it my best, but this—” She swept a hand at the holocaust.

“Shh,” Gideon soothed, cradled her head against his chest, softly kissed her temple. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”

Her laugh came out as a sharp bark of despair. “Fix it? How on earth can we fix it? The judging is tomorrow.”

“We still have the carousel. They didn’t touch it.”

“The carousel is nothing without the garden.”

“We can find a way through this. All of us. The community working together.”

“But how? In one day?” She scanned the wretched lot.

“Don’t give up hope.” He took her chin in his palm, tilted her head back, forced her to look at him. “If I’d given up hope of one day returning to you, I would never have survived after I lost my arm. I wanted to give up so many times. To stop fighting and just die. But then I’d think of you and I’d rally.”

“Even though you thought I didn’t care?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “You were all I had to hold on to, so I held on as tight as I could.”

“Gideon.” She buried her face against his chest, breathed in the scent of him.

This man was riddled with contradictions. He was complicated and complex and he was asking her to believe in him, believe in his ability to make this right. She didn’t see how he could do it, but she so wanted to believe. He had come back from the dead. Who could say that he couldn’t resurrect flowers?

“I have an idea,” he said.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. If she’d learned anything from him, it was how to be courageous and face her fears. “Let’s hear it.”

E
veryone in town who could pitch in showed up.

Caitlyn’s father offered to keep Danny for another night and even Greta came over to help carry out Gideon’s bold plan. Volunteers swarmed the victory garden, working around the clock. Caitlyn refused to go to bed or even take a break.

Through it all, Gideon was at her side.

And when the state judges arrived from Austin at ten
A.M.
the next morning, Gideon was absolutely sure he’d made the wrong decision.

They had not tried to restore the former glory of Caitlyn’s architecture. Rather, they instituted a new, last-minute design for the memorial garden.

The twisted and broken flowers had been left as they were, the fences scattered, the pots busted. But amid the devastation they planted seedlings from Caitlyn’s greenhouse.

On the carousel, they’d decorated the animals in camouflage material and smeared their faces with soot. They changed the music in the carousel from the whimsical “Tie a Yellow Ribbon” to “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” It was no longer a garden about beauty or romance.

Gone was the softness. The message left behind was hope in the midst of destruction. Healing of raw wounds as evidenced by the seedlings, the new life surviving against all odds. That in spite of chaos and pain, love could survive.

The garden reminded Gideon of the ordinary citizens of Iraq and Afghanistan. Strong and stalwart in the face of much adversity, struggling to live the best they could with dignity and honor in spite of the craziness around them.

Gideon held Caitlyn’s hand as the judges first stared in disbelief at the garden, then slowly started picking their way through it.

“They don’t get it,” Caitlyn whispered.

“It’s okay. We tried. After the contest we can get to work on the garden again, put it back the way it should be.”

“It was a brilliant idea,” she told him. “If we’re going to have a victory garden, why not actually show the cost of victory?”

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

“And I’m so proud of you.”

“No matter what, we’ve won,” he told her. “We’ve survived. Our love has survived.”

When the judges were finished, they gathered in front of the garden. “Who was the architect here?”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “It was originally me but—”

The oldest of the three judges, a tall, academic-looking man with a goatee, smiled. “But you’re so young.”

“I’m a florist,” she explained, “but—”

“You took an amazing chance,” the middle judge, an older woman in a straw gardening bonnet, said. “What a creative mind you have. None of the other gardens we’ve seen have demonstrated this level of complexity.”

“What are you saying?” Caitlyn asked, stunned to realize they actually liked the war-torn garden.

“We’re saying”—the younger woman carrying a clipboard smiled—“that your garden has won first place in the Most Creative category.”

“We won?” Caitlyn blinked, unable to believe it was true. Okay, so she’d been going for Most Romantic, but she’d take Most Creative.

“You did.”

The goateed judge wearing a marigold boutonniere handed her the blue ribbon and a gold trophy.

“But I can’t take credit for this. The war-torn theme came from Green Beret Sergeant Gideon Garza after a vandal destroyed our garden.” Her gaze met Gideon’s. “He’s the real survivor and he’s been teaching us all how to live.”

Caitlyn put out her hand to Gideon and drew him over as the photographer readied to snap their picture receiving the award.

The crowd applauded. Gideon felt himself warm from the inside out. Caitlyn had recognized him. The town had recognized him. He was accepted. It felt strange and glorious.

Caitlyn passed him the trophy. “This is yours,” she whispered.

“It’s ours.”

“You pulled my fat out of the fire.”

“If you hadn’t had those seedlings in your greenhouse, none of this would have been possible.”

“For the first time in twenty years, the Grant family carousel is back in operation,” Patsy said.

The horses pranced up and down in their camouflage saddles. The loudspeaker played “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

The carousel spun and Blaze raced past Caitlyn looking ferocious with his horsey face smeared with black soot, a green camo-colored bandana tied around his mane. People were laughing and applauding, and for the first time since he’d lost his arm, Gideon Garza felt whole again.

“G
ideon.” Judge Blackthorne called out his name.

Gideon looked at his soon-to-be father-in-law who was standing to the side of the victory garden celebration. “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my first name?”

“No.” Richard gave him a strange look. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“My mistake.”

“It’s okay.” Gideon smiled. “We all make them.”

“So what did she say?”

On Memorial Day, before he’d brought Caitlyn’s engagement ring and decorated his room at the Merry Cherub with pink and white rose petals, Gideon had gone to see Richard and asked for his blessing to marry his daughter. Richard had given it.

“She said yes.”

“Long time coming.”

“It was.”

“I should never have stood in your way. You were young. Too young, I thought. And I didn’t think you were good enough for her. I admit my prejudice. But she loves you with all her heart. She’s always loved you. Even when she was married to Marsh.”

“I appreciate you giving me your blessing.”

“I have some more good news for you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve already informed Bowie and Crockett Goodnight that your father’s will is good. All the witnesses have been interviewed. Everything has checked out. I’ve approved the paperwork. The Rocking J is yours.”

Gideon wasn’t sure how he felt about this news. He’d never really wanted the ranch, until he’d found out about Danny. Before that, it was really just more about being recognized as J. Foster’s son. It seemed sort of anticlimactic. “I’m not sure I know what to do with it.”

“Run it, sell it, leave it to your son.” Richard looked around the crowd. “Where is Danny?”

“I saw him walk up with you. Maybe he’s with his mom.” Gideon searched out Caitlyn in the crowd. The minute his eyes landed on her, his heart sped up. His woman. Finally, his for real. For always.

He couldn’t wait to find Danny. Tell Danny who he was. Let Danny know he was marrying his mother. They were going to be a family at long last.

Caitlyn met his eyes and broke into a big smile. “Danny?” she mouthed.

He shrugged. “Not with you?”

She shook her head.

Gideon frowned. “Danny!” he called.

But the sound of the carousel drowned out his voice. He turned back to Richard. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“We just walked up here, not ten minutes ago. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Don’t panic.”