The Welcome Home Garden Club

by Lori Wilde

  “Hell yes,” he said. “I looked it up to make sure. I love you still and always will, Caitlyn.”

  “Oh, Gideon.”

  “I’m sorry I had a meltdown and freaked out on you. I’m sorry about the gun. I’m sorry I withdrew.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t run away. You stayed. You healed. We worked it out.”

  “You healed me,” he whispered. “You and your victory garden and your carousel and our son. I was a shattered man when I came back here and I didn’t even know it.”

  Simultaneously, they breathed in, inhaling the incredible fragrance of roses. The enticing scent of so many petals pushed a rush of heat through her nose and into her lungs, warming her blood, sending red-hot waves of desire radiating straight to the tingling spot between her legs.

  Pink and white rose petals. I love you still and always will.

  She threw back her head and laughed. This, then, was the scent of love. Caitlyn caught her breath, turned. Saw Gideon watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, and she knew he felt it too. This yearning to be joined.

  He gave her that old familiar cocky smile that she hadn’t seen in eight long years. The carefree smile of a young, untroubled man. What an intoxicating combo. That scent. This man.

  His eyes danced with mischief and he came toward her, slowly stripping off his T-shirt, and one look at that fine chest had her knees rocking.

  “C’mere,” he murmured in a husky, dusky voice, leveled her a soul-stirring stare, and held out his hand.

  Dreamily, she moved toward him.

  He took her hand and led her to the bed, settled her down on the rose petals, their perfume rising up around them. He lay beside her, kissed her tenderly as if she was a rare and precious thing.

  They finished undressing each other. Shoes flying, pants sliding, skirt shimmying, until they were totally naked.

  Gideon kissed her hard and long and hot. They lay on the soft, velvety rose petals. Under his deft fingers, her aching body bloomed as spectacular as the victory garden, and she shivered against his rousing touch.

  Love swamped her. He was her man. He always had been, and she had to have him now or she would surely die. She pulled his bottom lip up between her teeth and he made a noise of pure masculine enjoyment.

  He cupped her face with his palm, dipped his head, and kissed her with a soul-stealing, grade A, world-class kiss that warmed Caitlyn’s heart. The moment was spectacular. He was spectacular. It was her most cherished fantasy brought to life. Making love on a bed of flowers with Gideon, her one true love.

  She wriggled into him, her breasts pressed flush against his muscled chest. He ran his palm up and down her arm. She tossed her head and he tracked restless kisses over her tender throat, nestling, nibbling, setting her on fire.

  Gently, he rubbed his thumb over one of her nipples until it beaded up tight. “Ah,” he said, and dipped his head to kiss that pert peak.

  “Uh-huh. A hazy hotness draped over her, thick with sexual urgency. She wanted him so badly she could only whimper.

  His tongue played along her collarbone. She shuddered against him. Lightly, he stroked circles on the inside of her arm.

  “My lover,” she gasped.

  “Exactly.” He grinned.

  The force of her feeling for him caused her to tremble and sweat. Her knees quivered. Her heart pounded. She felt his presence in every cell of her body.

  He loved her with his mouth, tonguing her with amazing technique, a slow glide from the sensitive spot behind her knee, around to her kneecap, and up her inner thigh until she was rolling in ecstasy.

  She floated, bodiless. She was total awareness, her entire being a giant throb of sexual energy.

  He licked lazy circles of heat and she was spellbound. Finally, he edged to the spot where she wanted him to be, the sweet V between her legs. When his full wet lips locked on to her, she imagined she was a succulent summer peach, ripe for the taking.

  His moist mouth teased, slowly licking her outer lips. He inhaled her and then caressed her with the sensuous sweep of his tongue. He suckled every fold, lapped at her ridges, and lifted up her bottom to deliver his meal.

  She surfed his tongue, owned it. A steady strumming vibration began deep in her throat, emerged as a wild moan. She thrust herself against his mouth, gripped the sides of his head with her thighs.

  Her skin was incredibly sensitive, her body tingling and tender. She tried to push him away. It was simply too much pleasure.

  But he stayed put, pushing his tongue deep inside her. Then pulling out and moving to the region beyond. This new sensation drove her into a frenzy. Her muscles flexed. Blinding flashes of light. The rushing sound of ocean waves in her head. Uncontrollable spasms rattled her body.

  Her world came undone.

  Gideon’s magic fingers touched and tickled and tingled. Her butt, her inner thigh, her clit. He slid one finger deep inside her wetness, while his tongue continued to strum her feminine notch.

  She fell like a shooting star dropping from the midnight sky.

  Madly, frantically, they grappled with each other. Time spun, morphed, as elusive as space. She was spellbound, mesmerized, entranced. Embraced by a longing so sweet and severe she couldn’t breathe. In delicious anguish, she cried out her delight.

  He rocked back on his heels, clasped her to his chest, and held her tight, his hand threaded through her hair, until their crazy hearts calmed.

  After they rested, he made love to her again, sinking his flesh into hers. He was her lover and she wanted him desperately and he wanted her right back.

  Their bodies joined and hotly fused on the bed of rose petals. I love you still and always will. Scent drenched the air—roses and sex—combining, fusing, part of an ancient dance as old as the sun and the moon and the stars.

  The entire time he was buried inside her, he stared deep into her eyes, as if he was lost in her gaze and could not find his way out. Did not even want to find his way out.

  Two became one.

  A single being.

  Clinging and trembling.

  He filled her up, pushed deep inside her until he could go no further.

  In and out, he moved in an even tempo that rocked her soul. He rode her and she rode him until they both came in a blazing, bright, blinding light.

  Sometime later, Gideon awoke and lay there listening to Caitlyn’s soft breathing. This was the beloved mother of his child. Her head was resting on his chest, and it felt so good he smiled into the darkness and thought about how much he loved her.

  “Gideon?” she whispered into the darkened room.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you have any more condoms?”

  “Yes.”

  She rose on one elbow and looked at him. “Do you think that maybe we could go again?”

  “There’s something I need to ask you first.”

  “What’s that?”

  Buck naked, he rolled out of bed. Went to his dresser, pulled out the ring box, knelt on the rose petals strewn across the floor, looked at her face in the moonlight, and said, “This has been a long time coming, Caitlyn Blackthorne Marsh, but will you marry me?”

  “Gideon,” she whispered, her voice tremulous, her hand splayed to her chest. “Are you sure? Are you really ready?”

  “I’ve never been more certain in my life. I want to marry you. Be with you. For now and always. I want to raise our son with you. Have more babies with you. Please, Caitlyn, without you I’m half a man.”

  “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.

  Caitlyn 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.”

  Everyone in town who could pitch in showed up.

  Caitlyn’s f
ather 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.