The Winter Wedding Read online

  Dedication

  For My Aunt Delores Burgess

  …because you’ve been good to me and you read my books and I love you!

  The Winter Wedding

  Rhonda McKnight

  Copyright 2019 Rhonda McKnight

  Elevated Press

  P.O. Box 164

  Morrow, GA 30260

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the story a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13:

  Unless otherwise noted, all scripture quotations taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Also by Rhonda McKnight

  ________________

  Restoration Series

  The Winter Reunion

  The Winter Baby – Coming Dec 2019

  Samaritan Woman Series

  An Inconvenient Friend

  What Kind of Fool

  Righteous Ways

  Almost There

  Shame On You – Coming May 2019

  Jordan Family Series

  Give A Little Love

  Live A Little

  Love A Little

  Second Chances Series

  Breaking All The Rules

  Unbreak My Heart

  Other

  When She Loves

  A Woman’s Revenge

  Secrets and Lies

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Reader Discussion Guide

  Scriptures On Healing

  The Winter Reunion

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  My Readers Rock! Thank you for inspiring me to write another story. I couldn’t do this without you cheering me on. Special thanks to the ladies in my Facebook Group Rhonda McKnight Readers. You especially bless me with our daily conversations and fun interactions.

  My destiny-sisters, Tia McCollors and Sherri L. Lewis, y’all the best. You know how I feel. I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you for holding me accountable and being my help and my sounding board. You two are the best friends and accountability partners a person could pray for. But for real tho’…do you guys even read these? LOL. Hugs!

  My sister-writer-friends at Black Christian Reads (www.BlackChristianReads.com) love and hugs for the sisterhood. You are a blessing to me. Thanks to Jacquelin Thomas for a lending an endless listening ear ALL THE Time and

  Special Thanks to Liesha Ann Barnett for helping me with the medical research on Stephen’s knee. I appreciate you sharing your story, your hardships, and your thoughts about what someone would be feeling during the recovery from a tough injury. You helped me with the emotional aspect of Stephen’s situation as well as the physical. I pray God continue to heel you in miraculous ways and I wish you every success with your business venture.

  My sons, Aaron and Micah…you love me and overlook much as I write. You inspire me to be my personal best. Thank you!

  My parents, Bessie and Jimmie McKnight, and siblings, Cynthia and Kenneth McKnight…thank you for the encouragement, love, and support!

  Everybody else…love you too!!!

  ‘Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’

  ~ Isaiah 41:10

  The Winter Wedding

  Prologue

  Run!

  Adrenaline laced with fear propelled Tamar through the parking lot. Snow crunched under the weight of her boots. Barely breaking her fall with the side of someone’s car, she slid across a sheet of ice.

  Slow down, girl. She wouldn’t have to deal with this problem if she killed herself.

  Suddenly she paused. She had to try, again, to remember what her car looked like. It was silly. She’d been driving it for months and still, the sleek, silver Range Rover was foreign to her. It was a gift from Stephen that she wished she’d never accepted. In the end, she kept it, because she couldn’t explain why she wouldn’t accept it. NFL players with forty-five million-dollar contracts gave their women big gifts.

  Tamar fished around in her handbag for her keys. She pushed the alarm for the car and followed the noise two rows over and pushed the button to stop the noise. Her cell rang. She removed it from the bag as she slid in behind the steering wheel.

  “Mrs. Pierce, this is Vehicle security.”

  Annoyance. “I’m fine. I couldn’t locate my car.”

  “Would you please give us your personal security code?”

  Tamar provided the code and answered the other two security questions. Once they were done, she slid her cell into the special slot that was cut into the dashboard for it and started the car. The doors locked around her. The automated voice welcomed her to the vehicle and asked her if she needed GPS.

  Tamar clutched the steering wheel. You need to run. She closed her eyes and blinked hard against burning tears. She had to talk to Stephen. She had to tell him before the reporter did.

  “You know better than anyone that you need to get in front of this story.” The cocky jerk opened his notebook. “A few questions can sway the direction I’ll take it.”

  In the quiet of the car, she cried, “What does he know?”

  “Good Afternoon, Mrs. Pierce.” The automated voice from the dashboard speakers stated.

  Mrs. Pierce. She was not Mrs. Pierce. She would never be Mrs. Pierce. She thought back to the day he gave it to her.

  “This car is too much, Stephen. I told you I didn’t want you spending money on
me.”

  “I’ve spoiled myself and my mother. I don’t have any kids. Who am I going to spend it on?” he’d asked. “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to spoiling you.”

  Tamar pushed the ignition button. Within seconds, a voice greeted her with the words, “Please put on your seatbelt, Mrs. Pierce. Will you be needing GPS assistance?”

  Tamar turned toward Stephen and cocked an eyebrow.

  “You might as well get used to hearing yourself be called Mrs. Pierce.” He leaned in and kissed her. “You’ll be my wife soon enough.”

  Feigning indignation, Tamar snatched back her head. “Who said I was going to change my name?”

  Stephen chuckled. “You make a compelling argument for not changing it, and I won’t utter a word about you keeping Johnson.”

  Tamar pursed her lips. She had only been teasing him. “Really.”

  “I don’t care what other people call you. I just need you to know who you are.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of keeping my name.”

  “Good,” Stephen said. “I was kidding.”

  Tamar slapped him playfully.

  She felt the blood in her veins surge. How had she gotten here? “How did I let it get this far?”

  She removed her gloves, reached for her phone, swiped the screen, and scrolled through her contacts for Escape Travel Agency. She pressed the phone against her chest and dropped her head back. She couldn’t run. She had responsibilities. Besides running was hard. You were never really going anywhere. You were only trying to get away from your past and the past ran harder and faster than she’d ever been able to, because her past was in her mind, memories, and heart. There was no escaping that. But as hard as it had been to disappear the first time, disappearing…again, was preferable to explaining herself.

  Stephen’s face came into view. It wasn’t his good looks that haunted her right now; it was his heart that she saw. A heart she was going to be responsible for breaking. She opened her eyes and sighed.

  You want to get in front of this.

  Tamar reached into her pocket for his business card. She read the contact information again. Roy Cray, Feature Reporter, The City Standard. She was a writer. Some folks would say she herself was a reporter. In any event, she knew how this worked. The clock was ticking. If Roy didn’t get a quote from her soon, it would be too late to give him one.

  Tamar sighed and dialed his number.

  “This is Cray.”

  Uneasiness clutched her stomach as she spoke. “This is Tamar Johnson.”

  Silence for a moment and then, “Ms. Johnson. I haven’t gotten far. Can we meet?”

  “I’m not sure I want to meet.”

  “I have a story.”

  Solid.

  Definitive.

  Sure.

  When a reporter’s tone carried confidence, they weren’t bluffing.

  Irritated, she replied, “Stephen has told his side of the story a hundred times already. We don’t have anything else to say.”

  “This isn’t about Stephen.”

  Tamar closed her eyes. She’d known it, felt it when he stopped her. She fought to keep a tremble out of her voice. “What is it?”

  “I’m sure you know.” A beat of silence and then, “It’s about what happened after the video.”

  Fear crept up her spine. She masked it by keeping the irritated tone in her voice. “A lot of things happened after the video.”

  “Okay, then let me be more specific. You dropped out of school. I know what you were doing. I’d like a quote or two before we go to press.”

  Tamar swallowed bile. “I had to change colleges because of people like you.”

  “Ms. Johnson. I’m almost done with my research. I need to hear from you in 24 hours or…”

  Tamar pressed the button to end the call. “Or you’ll write it anyway.”

  Run!

  She closed her eyes. Running was cowardly. She wasn’t eighteen years old this time. She was a grown woman who had to face up to this situation. This truth was coming out. This story had to be told. This wrong had to be righted.

  Stephen will hate me.

  “Mrs. Pierce, do you need GPS assistance?”

  Tamar banged on the steering wheel and yelled with the same intensity. “Home!”

  “We are searching for the location, Mrs. Pierce.”

  She checked her mirrors. The tires screamed as she backed out of the parking space. She was not Mrs. Pierce and after she had this conversation with Stephen, she for sure never would be.

  “Cancel Home.”

  “Do you want to go to another location, Mrs. Pierce?”

  She hesitated before saying, “The airport.”

  Chapter 1

  Four months earlier…

  Stephen Pierce was persistent. I pushed the “reject call” button and sent him to voicemail for the third time this morning. I couldn’t talk to him. Not right now. Right now, all I wanted to do was disappear.

  Returning to Pine, Pennsylvania had more implications than I’d anticipated. The journey to my high school reunion had been difficult. I’d spent most of the time agonizing over my reunion with my ex-boyfriend, Stephen Pierce. The tremble in my gut was about him and my feelings for him – unforgiveness mixed with an unrelenting, heartsick love that was like the milk and rum in the season’s eggnog. But now that I had forgiven him, all that was left was the love. That was up until this morning, when reality came crushing down and I realized, love wasn’t all I had. The unforgiveness had been replaced with fear.

  My phone rang again. Relieved to see it wasn’t him, I pushed the “talk” button and greeted my Aunt Josephine.

  “Hey, Auntie. Belated Merry Christmas.”

  “Hey, Tamar. I see you called me a few times yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to get back to you.” Aunt Joe coughed. “Hold on.” The phone went silent, but I didn’t lose the connection, so I waited. Then I heard background noise again. “I’m sorry for that.”

  “Do you still have that cold?” The answer was obviously yes, but I still asked.

  “Cold, flu, something had me down for a few days.”

  “Were you out yesterday?” I already knew the answer was yes. Aunt Joe was in charge of a large toy drive run by her church. On Christmas Day, the toys were delivered to various shelters and families all over the county.

  “You know we do the toy delivery.” She coughed a few more times. “It’s my ministry. I have to lead it no matter how I feel.”

  “I hope you rested when you got home.”

  Aunt Joe took her time answering. “We didn’t get home until ten last night. Deacon invited us to his house for dinner. I hadn’t cooked, so I wasn’t passing up a plate. They played spades and some other games. The kids had a video game contest and a dance contest. I sat in the corner with my sweet potato pie and let Isaiah play to his heart’s content.”

  “Mama, is that Cousin Tamar?” I heard Isaiah’s voice above the television noise in the background. “Tell her thank you for the new games.”

  “Did you hear him?” Aunt Joe asked. “I would give him the phone, but I done put germs all over it.”

  I shook my head. “That’s fine. He’s the most grateful child I know.”

  “He’s in his room with one of friends anyway. All they care about is those games.”

  “I thought I heard a little base slip in and out on a crack. Is his voice changing?”

  Aunt Joe spoke on winded words. “It’s about that time.” She coughed a few times more times.

  I tried to keep the concern out of my voice. This sickness hadn’t been for a few days. Now that I thought about it, Aunt Joe had been sick shortly after Thanksgiving.

  “Tell him I said he’s welcome.”

  “Oh, Tamar, I’ve got a call coming through from my doctor.”

  The line went dead. At least she was seeking medical care for the cough or flu or whatever it was she h
ad.

  I sighed and put the phone down. Aunt Joe and I were going to have to have a real conversation soon. Sooner than she probably would like.

  “Tamar.” I heard my father’s voice rise from the foyer. I hopped off the bed, pulled my door open, and looked down the stairwell. Stephen was standing there.

  ***

  “I’ve been calling all morning.”

  Tamar took slow steps down the stairs. Her father wandered off toward the back of the house.

  “I know, and I was about to call you back.”

  I wasn’t convinced of that. Her demeanor said otherwise. “Is there a reason I can’t get you on the phone? I mean, if you called me, I’d be hitting the green light on my phone post haste.”

  “I woke up late.” She looked bothered and sounded annoyed. “I had to get my story in.” She stopped on the third step from the bottom and crossed her arms. She avoided my eyes. I couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t being completely honest.

  “I thought your story was going to be the feature on me.” I reached for her hand and tugged until she came down a few more steps.

  “That’s the next story,” she said. “And now that it’s gotten to be a bigger story. I have more time to write it.”

  I nodded. Tamar was in town to interview me for the magazine she worked for, but I flipped the direction of the piece when I went live on SportsCenter with my confession. I pushed that from my mind. I didn’t want to talk about our past. I wanted to talk about our today and our tomorrow.

  I was face-to-face with her now. I wished her eyes held a smile, but they didn’t. She was closed and moody, but I leaned in and kissed her anyway. “Happy Boxing Day.”

  A slight hint of a smile pursed her lips.

  “Uh, huh,” I teased. I knew she remembered the middle school Christmas play we’d been in. We were Jamaican characters that celebrated Boxing Day, December 26th as a big holiday. We’d always wished each other a Happy Boxing Day ever since and swore one year we’d go to Jamaica for the holiday.