Singing Cowboy: Going Home

By Suzanne D. Williams

~ She was the girl in the audience he often sang to, giving the words pseudo-purpose. Except he hadn't sang a thing tonight, yet they were wrapped up together. He couldn't say if they'd started something or not by being here. Maybe friendship, if that's what this was, or love, if that was what it could be, but regardless, the untouchable thing that tied a man to a woman didn't pay attention to time or location or circumstances. It didn't fit into prescribed boundaries. It just was. ~

 

Country music star, Gideon Boone, spent his youth hiding from his mother's undiagnosed mental disease. Music was his escape and, one day in his teens, his ticket out. Yet, somewhere between home, on the backroads of Georgia, and fame in Nashville, he lost himself in his public persona.

 

Jayde Lincoln hides her history as an abused wife, and the pain of the child she lost, beneath a tough exterior. Moving to a tiny town in the rural countryside, is her new start. Despite lingering prejudices in the community, she believes she'll find peace and happiness there.

 

When hometown idol, Gideon, enters her flower shop, his smooth talk and flirtaceous smiles are pleasant at first. Then mistrust and doubt created at her ex-husband's angry fists strip away her confidence. Their differences … his fame, her need for anonymity; their contracting lifestyles and skin colors … are surely too much to overcome. Except their hearts sing another tune, something wonderful and perfect, that feels like love.

 

An interracial Christian romance by popular author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
• Release date: Feb 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781386432487

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

www.feelgoodromance.com

© 2017 SINGING COWBOY:  Going Home by Suzanne D. Williams

www.feelgoodromance.com

www.suzannedwilliams.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. (Gal 3:28)

This story is dedicated to Deborah Dunson, who loves country music, and encourages so many aspiring authors.

CHAPTER 1

The door chimed, and she paused her sweeping, surprised by the man that entered the shop. Six-foot-two inches of handsomeness in rugged blue jeans, an old t-shirt, and a cowboy hat worth as much as the gold ring on his forefinger. She looked past him at his car and counted the dollar signs. A lot of money flowed from Gideon Boone’s pockets.

I heard Mrs. Dilly sold the place, but not that the new owner was so pretty, he said.

She faced the compliment, then dipped her head and continued sweeping. If you’re looking for town gossip, you’d do better at Clancy’s barber shop.

She made to pull the broom toward her, but he wrapped one hand around the end, bringing her to a stop. Her heart thumped hard.

You’re right. Old Clancy can spin a tale, but I’ve come to buy flowers.

His face apologetic, he released the broom and stepped back.

She straightened. Flowers, I can sell you, but I imagine you polish that ride of yours with dollar bills, so it’ll cost you double.

His lips quirked. In the next instant, some hesitancy flashed in his gaze, a certain restlessness she recognized.

The same feeling had brought her here, seeking to escape the memories of her husband’s fist. Mrs. Dilly had been looking to retire, so she’d used her entire savings to buy the shop and a small house a few blocks east.

It hadn’t been easy to win over the community, and still, some wouldn’t darken her door, their resentment as much that she’d taken over for a town icon as over the color of her skin. The second, she was used to. The first, she didn’t understand. But then, emotions were high inside a small town.

Jayde Lincoln, she said, introducing herself. Who are the flowers for?

My mother. Why don’t you fix me up some of those Easter lilies? He nodded toward a refrigerated case.

Let me finish here.

Pulling the broom toward her, she swept the dust into a small pan and emptied it in the garbage pail. She brushed her hands on her pants legs and laid out several sheets of green tissue paper. Placing six blooms at a diagonal, she rolled them tight then wrapped the bouquet, additionally, in plastic.

What do I owe you? Gideon pulled out his wallet.

You know what ... consider it my gift.

His credit card beneath his thumb, he paused, his brow lifting. You don’t have to do that.

Isn’t a matter of ‘have to’, she replied. I get to. This is my store, and I can show kindness on any day of the week.

Kindness she hadn’t had much of, either growing up with an alcoholic mother or the three years she’d suffered as a battered wife. She’d gotten out of both situations and said she’d never treat others the same way they’d treated her, whether they were down-on-their-luck, like she’d been, or rich as Croesus like country mega-star, Gideon Boone.

Lots of rumors flew about him, centered around a certain amount of fact – that he didn’t get along so well with his younger brother, Lane, and his mother had been in and out of mental institutions.

His voice was pure gold, though. A woman’s daydream. But that didn’t account for the sadness she saw. Nor would a free bouquet of flowers fix it.

He returned his wallet to his back pocket and picked up the flowers, his frank-eyed gaze centered on her. I owe you one, he said, and I always pay my debts.

Pay as you see fit. I’m here Monday through Friday from nine to six and Saturdays from eight to seven.

Tapping the brim of his hat, he nodded and sauntered out.

She released a long hot breath and sank onto a stool behind the counter. No one back home would believe this. But then, they’d thought she’d still be married to Calvin.

Jayde Lincoln surprised him, both with her candor ... people usually either clammed up or gushed around him, especially women ... and her generosity. He could afford to buy one hundred bouquets, one thousand even, yet she’d given him this one. Whether she knew it or not, that type of kindness made her as rare as some of the flowers she sold.

Gideon settled the bouquet in the passenger seat and aimed toward his brother’s house, any thoughts he had about the new florist fading amidst the upcoming confrontation.

His discordant upbringing was common knowledge in the celebrity press. Seeing it in print hadn’t helped his fragile relationship with his family, but rumors were an industry in Nashville, every skeleton you tried to hide eventually dragged out.

Newshounds didn’t have his memories. Their mother had loved them, but been powerless against the paranoia that’d battered her brain.

Music had been his way out, the lyrics he wrote an escape from the turmoil at home.

He thought back to his start in the industry, the greenness of it, and saw mostly a fool. He’d been young and stupid, full of rose-colored dreams, his guitar an extension of his right hand, a handful of catchy songs in his repertoire. Those had gotten him noticed, but the corporate body that was fame had made him into what he was today.

Gideon Boone, country megastar, was an industry, not a man, and in the eyes of his brother and his mom, not the son, the sibling, they