The Wedding Garden. Linda Goodnight

      “Did you love him?”

      “Maybe at one point.” But not in the beginning, nor in the end.

      She didn’t say that, of course, though she experienced an interesting sense of relief, an absolution of sorts, at sharing her disastrous marriage with Sloan. She’d felt so guilty about marrying Joey while still aching for her first love. “What about you? Did you ever marry?”

      She wasn’t sure why she’d ventured there.

      Sloan withdrew his hand and went back to his meal. “Too busy.”

      Annie sipped at her water, mouth suddenly dry. “Where have you been, Sloan? What have you been doing? Where did you go?”

      The questions came out unbidden, but she’d wondered for so long. Why not ask now when they were both feeling comfortable and nostalgic?

      Sloan chewed and swallowed, his expression bland. “I joined the army.”

      The answer was not what she expected. Sloan had never once mentioned a desire to enlist. The old hurt swelled inside her. “What a weird thing to do.”

      His laugh was a bark. “Wasn’t it?”

      “Why?”

      Some odd emotion flashed through his eyes but was shuttered so quickly, she could have imagined it. “A man’s gotta do something with his life.”

      They’d had plans. Had he forgotten those? “My father said you ran away the same way your mother did.”

      He pretended interest in a cucumber dripping vinegar. “Is that right?”

      “You tell me.”

      “What else did he say?” The cucumber slid off the fork and plunked onto his plate.

      “He said you were in trouble with the law and ran to avoid prosecution.”

      “There you are, then. Just like your daddy says.”

      Annie heard an undertone of anger in the flip answer and wondered if there was more to the story than either her father or Sloan was willing to tell. Something in the tense set of his jaw warned her not to press the subject.

      “What have you been doing since the army?”

      He took a deep breath and let it out, the tension dissipating with the change in topics. “Living in Virginia. Started my own security business.”

      Sloan went on to describe a thriving company that protected dignitaries, heads of state, and others in need of security all over the world. Stunned, she realized Sloan Hawkins was not some thug on a motorcycle. He was a businessman, and from the sound of things, a very successful businessman.

      “Wow, impressive.” She couldn’t quite reconcile this new Sloan with the old one.

      The telephone rang.

      Sloan reached over her head and took the receiver from the wall phone. “Hawkins’s residence.”

      His face, alive and passionate about his company moments before, went flat and hard. “She is.”

      He handed the phone to her. “Our favorite police chief.”

      “Daddy?” she said into the mouthpiece.

      “I tried your house. What are you still doing over there with Hawkins?”

      She wasn’t sixteen anymore, but her father made her feel that way sometimes. Especially since Sloan had come home. “Having dinner. Why? Do you need me for something?”

      “Justin’s in trouble again.”

      Her stomach dropped. “Oh, Dad.”

      Sloan came around in front of her, head tilted to one side, expression questioning. She held up one finger.

      “What happened this time?”

      “Deputy Risenhower caught him breaking out windows with rocks.”

      “Breaking windows?” She ran an exasperated hand over the top of her head. “But he’s supposed to be at ball practice.”

      “He got kicked off the team, Annie.” Her father’s voice was tired. “I guess he took out his anger on the first place he encountered—Staley’s drugstore. All the windows on the third floor were broken and a few on the second.”