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Family Ties: Family Ties / Promise Of Grace
Praise for Bonnie K. Winn and her novels
“Bonnie K. Winn’s Promise of Grace is an uncommon romance novel, stirring the deepest part of the heart with tenderness and compassion.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“In Protected Hearts, Bonnie K. Winn provides warm romance with a touch of suspense.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“A Family All Her Own by Bonnie K. Winn has some wonderful moments.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Bonnie K. Winn has done a fantastic job with this story, showing readers how Laura blossoms and realizes that she is able To Love Again.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Family Ties
&
Promise Of Grace
Bonnie K. Winn
CONTENTS
FAMILY TIES
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
PROMISE OF GRACE
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
BONNIE K. WINN
is a hopeless romantic who’s written incessantly since the third grade. So it seemed only natural that she turned to romance writing. A seasoned author of historical and contemporary romance, her bestselling books have won numerous awards. Affaire de Coeur chose her as one of the Top Ten Romance Writers in America.
Bonnie loves writing contemporary romance because she can set her stories in the modern cities close to her heart and explore the endlessly fascinating strengths of today’s woman.
Living in the foothills of the Rockies gives her plenty of inspiration and a touch of whimsy, as well. She shares her life with her husband, son and a spunky Westie terrier who lends his characteristics to many pets in her stories. Bonnie’s keeping mum about anyone else’s characteristics she may have borrowed.
To every thing there is a season, and a time for every event under heaven…a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…a time to embrace…a time to love.
—Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8
Dedicated to my husband, Howard, a man of faith and romance, an irresistible combination.
Prologue
Houston, Texas
The day was too bright, the sun too cheerful, Cindy Thompson decided. It should be gray, overcast, perhaps drenched with rain or swept by relentless wind. But only a mild breeze stirred the sweet, spring air. It was the best time of year in Houston. Plagued by heat and humidity, the near-coastal city could rarely boast of mild, pleasant days. But it was something Cindy had been accustomed to, growing up there alongside her sister, Julia.
But Julia no longer had to worry about hot and cold, about sunshine and rain. Still the light shone mercilessly on her mahogany coffin, revealing the grain of the highly polished wood and the creamy hue of the pure white floral spray. Two lone ivory ribbons proclaimed “wife” and “mother.”
Cindy swallowed another rush of tears, her gaze sliding yet again to her brother-in-law, Flynn Mallory, and his three tiny, identical daughters. Julia would be pleased, Cindy thought irrationally. The girls were dressed beautifully. Matching dresses of deep green velvet, no doubt from Houston’s finest children’s store, shiny black Mary Janes, spotless ivory tights.
The triplets were just barely twenty-two months old, matching bundles of endless energy. Cindy wondered how Flynn had managed to ready them with such precision. From what she’d known, Julia had been their sole caretaker since Flynn was always working, striving to improve his already-prosperous business.
Cindy had offered to help with the girls, but Flynn had firmly refused. Not much had changed. Flynn was still holding her at arm’s length. Shaking away the painful memories, Cindy bent her head for the closing prayer, offering one of her own for her beloved sister.
Silence sliced over the crowd now as they waited for Flynn to rise. He did so slowly, trying to hold three tiny hands with his own larger ones. Taking that cue, Cindy reached for baby Alice’s hand, since she was seated beside her. Flynn didn’t protest, for once looking out of control and a bit lost.
“Mommy?” little Beth asked, looking as lost as her father.
Flynn’s face worked, his lips seemingly trying to form words his heart refused to utter.
Seeing his pain, Cindy knelt down beside the girls, enveloping them in a hug. Then she gave each of them a single pink rosebud, Julia’s favorite. Quietly she led them to the casket, allowing each to place a flower on the sun-warmed wood.
Flynn watched helplessly, barely acknowledging soft-spoken condolences of friends as they filed past. Clearly his world had been shattered. Julia had been a rock, the nucleus of their family. Cindy had always imagined her sister growing old, surrounded by Flynn and a passel of adoring grandchildren. But that wasn’t to be.
Any more than her own happiness was to be.
Cindy shook away the thought, immediately ashamed of her pettiness. Her only concern could be the children. Cindy intended to delay her return to Rosewood. She wouldn’t abandon her sister’s children. She owed it to Julia and even Flynn’s resistance wouldn’t stop her. She knew, however, it was only temporary. She couldn’t hope to be included where she wasn’t wanted. But in the meantime she would shower the girls with love…and pray they wouldn’t forget her.
Chapter One
Rosewood, Texas
One year later
Driving slowly, Flynn Mallory surveyed the main street of the small Hill Country town he’d chosen to call home, a hamlet far different from Houston. And incredibly far from the only roots he’d ever known. He and Julia had never visited Rosewood. Cindy had made the infrequent trips to Houston, saying she could combine business with pleasure. It had suited Flynn. It wasn’t easy to travel with the triplets and he’d felt no need to survey Rosewood until now.
But Rosewood offered what his daughters really wanted—their aunt Cindy. For the millionth time, Flynn regretted the loss of his family…his entire family. There was no loving family member to turn to. No one who could offer help or advice. No Mallory grandparent, aunt or uncle who could help the girls know they were loved. Cindy wouldn’t have been his choice if he’d had anyone else to turn to. But his relatives were all dead and Cindy was the only member left of Julia’s family. Cindy was irresponsible and fun loving, but he could provide the stability his children needed. They could visit with Cindy once a week and get the emotional bonding they craved while he ensured a secure environment.
For a moment Flynn thought he’d taken a wrong turn. The eclectic, charming neighborhood was old and well-worn, the yards filled with ancient oaks and carefully pruned rose gardens.
Expecting a sleekly modern condo, Flynn looked for a place where he could turn his vehicle around. But then he spotted Cindy’s address. There was no mistake. The numbers sat atop a nameplate of swirling letters that spelled out Thompson. But he still wasn’t reassured. The softly faded old Victorian house didn’t fit his image of Cindy.
Climbing out of his SUV, Flynn strolled up the red brick sidewalk. A magnificent aged magnolia tree perfumed the air, its dark glossy leaves looking as though they’d been polished by hand. Flynn knew the slow-growing tree had to be at least one hundred years old. But the house looked that and then some.
Unable to stop staring, he climbed the steps to the wraparound porch. Flynn reached for a doorbell and found an old brass knocker instead. He glanced upward at the gently curving eaves, pounding a bit more loudly than he intended. And within seconds the door whipped open. A disheveled, startled-looking Cindy stared at him.
Since she looked flustered, he offered a smile. “I did call.”
Cindy pushed at a lock of flame-colored hair framing her forehead. Then she pulled back the door, opening it wider, looking surprisingly flushed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I got caught up in some painting and lost track of time.” She held up a brush covered in bright yellow paint, then glanced down at her paint-splattered overalls. “Give me just a minute to wash my hands.” She gestured past the foyer to an inviting room. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Not surprised that the irresponsible Cindy was off schedule, Flynn nodded, walked in, then went down the single wooden step into the parlor.
It was the only word to describe the room. A huge, leaded-glass bay window kept the old-fashioned room bright. The whimsical furniture was as intriguing as it was impractical. Delicate needlepoint chairs that didn’t look as though they could support real humans were drawn up to a table set with translucent cups and saucers, a matching bone-china teapot, and bite-size sandwiches.
Raising his eyebrows, he noted that a fainting couch replaced a more conventional sofa. Nothing about Cindy’s house met his expectations.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gliding into the room, sounding a bit breathless. “I promised my friend Katherine I’d have the bookcases for the Sunday school rooms painted this week. There didn’t seem to be so many when I volunteered,” she ended with a smile.
He shrugged, knowing little about Sunday school and its expectations. He’d been a boy when he’d last attended church. And that was a lifetime ago.
She moved toward the prepared table with a teapot. “It’s hot.” She gestured to the thick fabric covering the pot. “The cozy keeps it warm. Tea?”
“It’s not necessary.”
Cindy kept her smile in place. “Perhaps not, but it’s very civil.”
He relented, realizing she was being gracious and he was being ungrateful. There had been little time in the last year for niceties. Every available moment had been spent chasing the triplets and trying to decide whether he was making the right decision in moving to Rosewood. It wasn’t Cindy’s fault that he was feeling so pressed. She was simply trying to help. He forced himself to relax. “My appointment with the Realtor isn’t for another hour.”
Cindy poured the tea and handed Flynn a cup. “So you’re still certain you want to move here?”
Awkwardly he balanced the small, fragile cup, not ready to admit his apprehension. “I’m ready for a change of scenery. Everywhere I look or go, I’m reminded of Julia.” He caught her questioning gaze. “Not that I don’t want to remember…”
“I understand. But won’t you have to face it sometime?”
He frowned. “I’ve faced her death, the fact that I have to go on alone. But the girls need a change.” Unwilling to share how upsetting this was with her, he switched subjects. “And I couldn’t take looking for another baby-sitter.”
She offered him the sandwich platter. “That bad?”
He took a few of the crustless diamond-shaped snacks, his hands seeming unusually large and clumsy amidst the fragile delicacies. “Worse. I wanted to be sure that whoever was taking care of the girls was responsible.”
She drew her brows together, a shadow eclipsing the bright curiosity in her eyes. “That didn’t work?”
He paused for a moment, examining the odd little sprouts that edged the filling of the delicate sandwich. “Depends on your point of view. The first baby-sitter, Mrs. Sanders, took charge immediately. I imagine there were POW camps run with more humor. Even I was tiptoeing around the woman. I didn’t want the girls growing up believing they had to snap to attention in their own home.”
Cindy laughed. “Surely there was a compromise.”
“I hired former schoolteachers, and even a registered nurse.”
“Weren’t they better than the commandant?”
“Somewhat. But the truth is no professional caretaker’s going to love the girls and care for them like someone in the family would.”
Cindy’s fingers tightened around the handle of her teacup and she paused for a moment before she spoke. “You’re right, of course. But aren’t you worried about uprooting the girls?”
“From preschool?” Flynn shook his head, knowing it wasn’t the girls who would be uprooted. “They’re young enough to adjust to a move. More so than to the loss of their mother. The only reason I’m considering relocating is because of them.” Even if it meant reconnecting with a woman he considered best forgotten. “Everything I do is in their best interest.”
“I know it is, Flynn,” she responded, her gaze resting on him intently. “I’m just trying to be a good sounding board. This is a big step, and Julia’s only been gone for a year.”
“True. But I didn’t just wake up one morning with a wild hair. I’m able to provide almost every monetary need my children have, but I can’t produce a family I don’t have.”
Cindy nodded, knowing he, too, was the last member of his family. “I may be one of the few people in the world who can understand that.” It had been a devastating blow for Cindy to lose Julia since they were the last two left in their family. Still, something about Flynn’s uncharacteristic behavior bothered her. He was not the sort of man who moved to an unseen town on a whim.
“And you can’t force a connection,” Flynn was saying. “Children either feel that for a person, or they don’t. And the girls feel it with you.”
Tears misted in Cindy’s eyes and her lips trembled, emotion overshadowing caution. “They mean so much to me. Thank you for showing your trust in me.”
Flynn hesitated, but knew he had to be honest. His daughters were too precious to him for anything less than the truth. “You won’t have to take on any responsibility with them.”
She blanched, then recovered quickly. “Of course.”
Flynn didn’t want to hurt her, but she had to know the real purpose of their move, why he was doing this against all reason. “The girls need an emotional connection with you, rather than help with their upbringing.”
Cindy’s head bobbed up and down a bit too vigorously. “I understand. And I suppose you’ve worked out something for your company.”
He tried not to remember how much that hurt, as well. “After Julia died, my vice presidents banded together, running things so efficiently that it became apparent I wasn’t needed for the day-to-day operations.”
“Won’t you miss it?” she asked softly. “It’s been a big part of your life.”
More than she could possibly know. “I’m not content to glide along on past accomplishments.” He forced enthusiasm into his voice, guessing otherwise the words would ring with empty truth. “I need something new, something challenging.”
“And you can find that in Rosewood?” Cindy asked skeptically.
Flynn managed a reasonable chuckle. “Aren’t you being a bit snobbish about your adopted home?”
“Not at all. Just realistic. We’re a long way from boardrooms and stock quotes.”
“Not as far as you think. With the Internet, you can be in Iceland and have as much access to Wall Street as anyone in New York. But I just want the right place to retreat, one where I can recoup, try to start again.”
Her expression softened. “I know it’s been difficult for you. I miss Julia terribly every day. I remember her laugh, her way of making the worst situation bearable.” Cindy met his eyes. “It must be far worse for you—especially trying to be mother and father to the girls. But the important thing is that the girls do have you. The rest will come in time.”
Uncharacteristic doubt assailed him as it had since Julia had died. “You’re so sure?”
Cindy took a deep breath, the green of her eyes deepening to near emerald. He wondered at the emotion that skittered across her face. “As sure as any one person can be. The Lord never gives us burdens that are heavier than we can bear.”
He shrugged impatiently, thinking her talk of faith must be her latest fad, one that would no doubt be forgotten soon. He knew from experience that she’d be better off without that treacherous fantasy. “Church seems like ancient history.”
She searched his eyes. “That’s too bad. You won’t find anything more relevant and timely.”
He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of time, would you like to go with me to meet the Realtor? After all, you recommended Linda Baker. Besides, you know the town. You can steer me away from any lemons.”
The edge of her mouth curled upward. “Kind of takes the adventure out of the process, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve forgotten, Cindy. I don’t care for adventure.”
Cindy hadn’t forgotten. She’d simply pushed that truth to the back of her consciousness. Along with the cache of emotions Flynn Mallory created. While he waited in her parlor, Cindy reached for a change of clothes, remembering the first time she’d met him.
She and Julia were at a party. Spotting Flynn Mallory, Cindy knew immediately that everything about him seemed larger than life. From his shock of unruly chestnut hair to the fire in his dark eyes, to the fierceness of his determination. She had never met anyone like him. Immediately she was attracted to his strength and purpose. Unlike the other young men in the group, he had a maturity and confidence that set him apart. Cindy hadn’t doubted from the moment she met him that he would succeed. Everything about him said he wouldn’t allow anything less.
She’d been equally determined to make him hers.
And that remained one of the foremost failures in her life.
After she and Flynn had shared one electrifying gaze that she still couldn’t forget, Cindy had fallen hard and fast. Unable to still what had momentarily flowed between them, in the ensuing weeks Cindy had employed every trick she knew to interest him. Not because she wanted a mild flirtation, but because she had truly fallen in love with him.
But the more bizarre and outlandish her efforts, the more he withdrew. She and Julia saw him often in their social circle. But Flynn began to concentrate on Julia. He clearly valued Julia’s stability and desire to have a family.
And despite his initial attraction to Cindy, he seemed determined to ignore the adventure she craved. And that was something she’d never understood. For it seemed the fire in his eyes matched hers. It was the first and only time she’d ever felt that way about a man.
Even though it broke her heart, she backed off when he and Julia became serious. And she steadfastly accepted the position of maid of honor for Julia, cheerfully organizing showers, parties and wedding breakfasts.
If there were tears beneath the smiles, no one knew. And Cindy told herself that her feelings for Flynn would fade. That in time, she would come to view him as a brother. But that hadn’t happened.
Instead, to extricate herself from the situation, a few months after the wedding she had moved to Rosewood where her best friend, Katherine Blake Carlson, was the pastor of the community church.
In the time that followed, Cindy had seen her sister far less frequently than she would have liked. She made sure she visited when Flynn was away on business, keeping the pain at bay. When she did occasionally run into him, it all rushed back, though. He was unfailingly polite when they met, but she could tell that despite the passage of time he still saw her as flighty, unfocused. And she didn’t try to change that opinion. It didn’t really matter anymore.
Yet his tie to Julia and subsequent place in their family remained an unhealed wound. So Rosewood became Cindy’s escape, her place of peace.
And now Flynn Mallory was shattering that to bits.
Cindy shook back her hair, added earrings, then picked up her purse, feeling strangely nervous about being in Flynn’s company.
For an instant she remembered his startling phone call a month earlier—the one that promised to change her life and threaten her secure existence. She’d wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay away—not to move to Rosewood. But she couldn’t deny her nieces a chance for happiness. If she truly could help them, she wouldn’t put her own concerns ahead of theirs.
And it was nothing short of a miracle that Flynn had asked for her help. It was a complete turnaround for him…and a point she couldn’t stop questioning. Why, why was he doing this?
Taking a breath, Cindy stepped through the expansive arched doorway that led into the parlor. Flynn turned just then. And despite her best intentions, she caught her breath.
He stepped forward and she exhaled, praying silently for strength.
“I’m ready,” she announced, forcing cheerfulness into her tone.
When he glanced at her, she wondered if it was disapproval she saw registering in his expression. Self-consciously, she smoothed the soft fabric of her long, flowing, deep purple skirt. Belatedly it occurred to her that the choice might be a bit wild for Flynn. Julia had always dressed and acted much more conservatively. Their parents’ death had stolen Julia’s sense of adventure. Cindy had reacted in just the opposite fashion—she needed excitement and new challenges to feel alive. But then everything about her had been too wild for Flynn.
She tried not to dwell on that as they walked outside and settled into his SUV. Once inside it, however, her nervousness increased. The spacious vehicle seemed oddly intimate.
“So, what do you think of Rosewood?” she asked, trying to chase away her nerves.
He shrugged as he handed her the directions Linda had given him. “Haven’t seen much of it yet.”
“There’s a lot of history here, but not anything too high-tech.”
“You have electricity and phone lines?”
She blinked. “Of course.” Then she realized he was teasing. “Except on candle day, of course.”
He took his attention from the road. “Candle day?”
She met his gaze. “Keeps us from becoming too dependent on technology.”
He lifted his brows in acknowledgment. “Guess you hope it doesn’t fall on stormy days, then.”
She pursed her lips. “So the wind doesn’t blow out our candles?”
“Right.”
The teasing exchange allowed her to relax a fraction. “It’s really a good place to raise children. People watch out for each other, the schools are filled with teachers who care. And our church pulls together through good times and bad.”
“You make it sound idyllic.”
Cindy turned to gaze at the crepe myrtle trees in full bloom, their delicate blossoms coloring the landscape. As she did, she thought of her own loneliness, the empty nights, the longing for what would never be. “Not exactly idyllic. But genuine.”
“That’s rare enough in the world today.”
Agreeing, Cindy nodded. Seeing that they were nearing the turn to the address he’d given her, she pointed out the way.
“Linda promised to show me the best Rosewood has to offer,” Flynn commented as he made another turn.
“She’s a great Realtor, as well as a nice person,” Cindy acknowledged. “And hopefully she’ll have some decent listings.”
Glancing at her, he frowned. “That was said with a bit of doubt.”
Cindy hesitated. “Rosewood doesn’t have much growth, so there’s not a lot of new home construction. People tend to settle in and stay in one place. I think only one new subdivision’s been built in the last twenty years. So, not much was available when I started looking. Luckily I was able to stay with Katherine because it took me a while to find my place.”
