The Gazebo. Kimberly Cates

      Rave Reviews for Picket Fence

      “Cates weaves a tantalizing and emotional tale that strums the heartstrings and keeps the reader spellbound until the joyful, gratifying ending.”

      —Booklist

      “Forgiveness and acceptance are key elements in this outstanding new family drama, which offers the deep insight into the human soul and the touching story that are hallmarks of a Cates novel. 4 ½ stars.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKclub

      “Kimberly Cates provides a discerning look at love offering its healing power if only the lead trio would take a chance.”

      —Harriet Klausner

      More Praise for Kimberly Cates

      “One of the brightest stars of the romance genre.”

      —New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen

      “Kimberly Cates is an extraordinary storyteller.”

      —Jill Barnett, author of Sentimental Journey

      “A truly gifted storyteller.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKclub

      “Kimberly Cates takes readers on a heartwarming journey of secrets, emotional upheaval, and the meaning of unconditional love.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKclub on The Mother’s Day Garden

      Also from Kimberly Cates and HQN Books

      Picket Fence

      The Gazebo

      Kimberly Cates

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my daughter Kate, the most beautiful bride ever, and to

      Kevin, the son I always dreamed of. Here’s to Happily Ever After!

      CONTENTS

       CHAPTER 1

       CHAPTER 2

       CHAPTER 3

       CHAPTER 4

       CHAPTER 5

       CHAPTER 6

       CHAPTER 7

       CHAPTER 8

       CHAPTER 9

       CHAPTER 10

       CHAPTER 11

       CHAPTER 12

       CHAPTER 13

       CHAPTER 14

       CHAPTER 15

       CHAPTER 16

       CHAPTER 17

       CHAPTER 18

       CHAPTER 19

       CHAPTER 20

       EPILOGUE

      CHAPTER 1

      THE SMALL WHITE HOUSE at the end of Linden Lane didn’t look like the kind of place where secrets lived. But no one in the river town of Whitewater, Illinois, knew better than Deirdre McDaniel that appearances could be deceiving.

      The lawn was manicured with military precision. No dandelion had dared invade from behind enemy lines—the yard of the neighbor, whose lackadaisical attitude toward weed control had been the bane of Deirdre’s father’s existence.

      She wasn’t sure which would have hurt worse—seeing her childhood home down at the heels, the way vacant properties often were, or witnessing her older brother’s valiant attempt to keep the place ready for their father’s inspection when the hard truth was Captain Martin McDaniel was never coming home.

      Deirdre shifted the white van into park and killed the engine. Catching the inside of her full lower lip between her teeth, a nervous tick no one else could see, she stepped out of the car, her grip tightening on the keys in her hand.

      Breezes tugged chin-length wisps of unruly mahogany hair about a face too sharply drawn, with its pointed chin and high cheekbones. Eyes so intensely blue they seemed a breath away from catching fire stared at the red-painted front door. She wished there was a key somewhere among the cluster in her hand she could use to lock away her memories, but it was too late. They flooded through her, the past far more vivid than the glorious late-September day.

      She could remember crushing wrinkles into her mother’s crisp cotton Easter dress as she gave Emmaline McDaniel a chocolate-bunny-smeared hug. She could smell the wood shavings on her father’s callused hands and hear herself wheedling her big brother, Cade, into letting her join the “boys only” club that had the coolest tree fort in the neighborhood.

      She could see Spot, the ragged coal-black mutt she’d rescued, racing down the lane howling, the neighbor cat’s claws dug into his back, triumphant glee on its feline face. Deirdre’s father with his military bearing and loathing of weakness glowering in disgust.

      If that dog was a marine we would’ve shot it by now.

      But you couldn’t shoot your daughter. Not even if she did the unforgivable.

      Merry Christmas everyone. I’m pregnant… That was one Christmas no McDaniel would ever forget. Seventeen years had passed since Deirdre had made that announcement, and her stomach still turned inside out whenever she thought of it. The only small mercy in the whole ordeal: her mother hadn’t been alive to hear what she’d done.

      Emmaline, always the quintessential lady, would have burned with shame to see the telltale bulge of Deirdre’s belly and hear the whole town buzzing that the wild McDaniel girl had gotten what was coming to her. Maybe they were right.

      Deirdre quelled the old hurt welling up inside her and walked up to the familiar front door. Her hand shook so badly it took three tries to fit the key into the lock.

      You don’t have to do this. Cade’s voice echoed in her memory as she stepped inside the house. The living room stood empty except for brighter patches of paint where pictures had hung and divots in the carpet where furniture legs had left their mark. A few boxes and some rolls of bubble wrap stood neatly in a corner,