Prologue

10 years earlier
Tomorrow, Georgia
Westmoreland Way

After his father’s wake, Gideon Westmoreland stood on the veranda of the big plantation home—his now—and wondered what the hell he was going to do. The sweet scent of his mother’s gardenias hung heavy in the humid air, almost suffocating him. Night birds called to one another as the grasshoppers and cicadas made themselves known somewhere in the grass.

He could hear muted laughter coming from within. The wide French doors lining the back of the house were thrown open to catch the fresh spring breeze. Gideon stood at the farthest end, away from the noise and the light, a creature shrouded in darkness, with a weight on his shoulders too heavy to carry.

The full moon shed its brilliant light on the manicured lawn before him, but its beauty failed to affect him. His father was dead, and they were broke. Now, it was up to him to figure a way out for his family. He clenched his fists in an anger he didn’t think would ever leave him.

Sophia Whittaker came out after him. She was only fifteen, and his anguish, though he tried to hide it, was all too apparent to her.

She loved him after all.

Sophy had grown up as much in his home as he had in hers. Their families’ bonds were tight and drew them together as closely as if they were related by blood.

Knowing his grief was too profound in this moment for her to intrude upon, she nevertheless walked over. Gideon’s head was bowed, his shaggy dark blonde hair falling in his face, his hands shoulder width apart on the rail.

“Gideon?” she called softly.

He glanced up at her, and the pain in his eyes was so sharp, she felt it as a direct stab in the heart. There was nothing she could say, so she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him as tightly as she could. After a moment, his arms crept up, gripping her just as fiercely. He needed someone to hold on to so badly, and she had appeared, like a dream, to offer him solace.

Sophy’s head rested against his chest, and she could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. It soothed her somehow, and reassured her, though she knew it was he who needed the comfort right now.

“I don’t know how you’re going to do it, Gideon, but you will. I know it. Everything will be all right,” she whispered fervently, her faith in him unflagging.

It struck him like a blow. No one knew how he was going to do it, but they all knew he could. Thanks a helluva lot. No one had any advice for him, just faith. It was too fucking much.

“Christ, Sophia. There’s nothing left. Can you even begin to imagine what that means? There isn’t a dime left, and I don’t mean not having a vacation in the Hamptons this year,” he said bitterly, shaking her. He shoved her away from him, disgusted with her, himself, the whole fucking world in general, and his daddy in particular for putting him in this position.

Twenty-two and fresh out of college, he was brimming with new ideas on the cultivation of cotton and pecans. Gideon had looked forward to coming into his own as his father’s partner in the family business.

This path had been laid out before him before he had been born, but he had never resented it. No, it was precisely the life he would have picked out for himself, had he been given a choice.

His father’s death was a terrible shock to his family and the people who depended on the plantation for their livelihood. It came on the coattails of a terrible four year drought which had afforded low yields of cotton, and not just for the Westmorelands. But Gideon, although concerned for the crops, had not been worried about the family plantation as a whole. It was strong enough to survive most anything.

Then just that morning, several men in black suits had come from the bank to speak with Gideon. Sitting in his father’s study, he had listened in shock to the news the president of the bank shared. The family was broke. The bankers had no explanation other than that Jacob had invested heavily and lost. To keep the bank from foreclosing on the land Westmorelands had held almost since the colonization of Georgia, Gideon had had to mortgage the house and several thousand acres of cotton.

How could this have happened? In his wildest imaginings, he’d never thought he’d have to build his dreams from the dust up—and that was precisely what his daddy had left him to do.

Gideon gritted his teeth and stared down into the face of innocence before him. Sophy looked gently into his eyes. She could see he was afraid, so afraid he could taste it. His family was depending on him, and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to bring it all together.

He glanced away, unable to look at her trust in the face of what he knew to be the truth. Without someone else’s money to back him, Westmoreland Way was over. His mother would have some ideas, he knew, but as smart as she was, she didn’t have a head for business, or the heart. He had five brothers and sisters still home, and Nathan in college to worry about. How the hell could he make it all right?

He saw the tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, and remembered she couldn’t even drive yet, remembered he had big hands, rough hands that he had just dug into her tender skin. More guilt crashed down on him. His sister Faith was her age. They were just babies, for Christ’s sake, unable to provide for themselves yet. That was up to him now; he was the one responsible for everything.

“I’m sorry, Sophia. I’m not mad at you. I’m just so damned worried.” He hugged her tightly again, savoring the way she smelled, the way she held him even though she should have smacked his face for shaking her.

“Gideon, I’m not crying because you sniped at me. God knows you’re entitled.” She took a deep breath and made her declaration. “I’m crying because I love you.” Sudden fear made her amend quickly, “Because I’m so sorry.”

And Gideon, being a young man and overwhelmed with grief and worry, didn't understand. “I love you too, Sophy,” he said, touched. With a final squeeze, he released her. “At least one of us has faith in me.”

“We all have faith in you, Gideon,” she said quietly. Her heart tore a little, knowing his returned sentiment was not the requiting she most desired.

“I know you do. And it means a lot to me to know that.” Better a lie to soothe than anymore of the awful truth. He checked his watch tiredly. “We’d better get back in. They’ll be wondering where we are.” His arm slung casually around her shoulders, they entered the house to face the uncertain future.