Читать книгу Homefront Holiday - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

He was just doing the right thing, Mike told himself as he pocketed the change in the hustle and bustle of the busy florist’s. It wasn’t as if he could show up without a hostess gift, right?

Across the small counter, Mrs. Neville, who had been a friend of his mom’s back in the day, shut the cash register drawer and offered him a smile along with the bouquet of daisies trimmed and wrapped in festive paper.

“Are these for a young lady?” Mrs. Neville handed over the flowers with her question. “Next time I would recommend roses.”

“It’s not what you think.” He took the flowers. He had avoided the roses on purpose. He didn’t want Sarah to get the wrong idea—he had moved on. “I’ve been invited to dinner. Not the romantic kind.”

“What a shame. A doctor like you,” Mrs. Neville said with a tsk. “I can’t believe a nice woman hasn’t snapped you right up.”

“Maybe I’d rather not be snapped.”

“Oh, you young men. You’ll want to settle down one day. You know, your mama, rest her soul, would be so proud of you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You have a good day.” He gave her a quick salute and left the store.

He couldn’t help thinking about his mom, who had been gone a long time. Cancer had taken her not long after his dad was killed in action. Mike had always thought that she died of a broken heart, for she had loved his dad too much. That had been a tough time in his life. He had been finishing his bachelors in chemistry, already of legal age and on his own. Sarah had been there for him. He wondered what his mama would think of what he’d made of his life. Would she understand what had happened with Sarah?

He was halfway to her house when his foot kept easing up on the gas pedal. It wasn’t hard to figure out the reason why: Sarah. The past weighed like ballast. Over the last year he’d been busy enough with an all-consuming job, hoping to forget her.

So, why hadn’t he? Time had helped, but not completely. When thoughts of her surfaced, it was like being battered by hurricane winds at sea. It was hard to keep bitterness from taking him down. He’d loved her with all he had to give, and it hadn’t been enough.

Well, he hoped she found what she wanted.

Her little yellow house on the tree-lined street looked changed, too. A bicycle with training wheels was parked on the front lawn. A ladder was pushed up against the outside wall of the garage. The wicker love seat on the small porch held Clarence the cat. He sat on alert, watching through slitted eyes as Mike pulled into the driveway.

Well, some things did stay the same, Mike thought, as he cut the engine and climbed out of his truck. Clarence, apparently remembering him, laid his ears flat against his head.

Fortunately, the screen door chose that moment to slam open and there was Ali pounding down the steps. “Dr. Mike! Dr. Mike! I got every color ones!”

“That’s good, buddy.” Mike pocketed his keys. “Every color what?”

“Lights. For the roof.”

Sarah stepped out onto the porch and ran a comforting hand over her cat’s orange head. She said nothing, but the breeze swung the curled ends of her hair and the sunlight framed her with gold.

Don’t feel a thing, man. He squared his shoulders and managed to take what he hoped looked like a solid, confident step toward the little boy.

“I gotta pick ’em out. I got all the colors.” Ali’s fists pumped as he ran down the walkway. “They flash like police lights.”

“Lucky me.” Sarah gave a wry grin.

The sound of her voice, sweet and low, still got to him. Mike swallowed hard. Coming over had been a mistake. He nodded toward the garage wall. “Is that the reason for the ladder? You’re going to put up Christmas lights?”

“Guilty.”

“I’ve never known you to climb a ladder.”

“I have had to learn to do a few new things since I’ve been on my own.”

Her quiet answer surprised him; she seemed calm and steady, centered, although she was watching him with the saddest eyes.

He had to try again.

Careful now, he thought. He took the daisies and the shopping bag he’d brought with him and shut the truck door. “Maybe I’d best stick around and climb that ladder for you.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—” She held up one hand, which had been petting the cat, and the cat glared at him again.

“Dr. Mike?” Ali’s gaze was glued to the gift bag and the flowers. “Who is those for?”

“The bag is for you.”

Yet as dear as the boy was to him, it was the woman standing in the background that seemed to draw Mike’s gaze and to keep it. The blue cable-knit sweater she wore complemented her creamy complexion and the soft red of her hair, making her look like a summer rose out of season.

The unveiled look of love on her face as she gazed at the small boy made him feel humbled and somehow ashamed. He loved Ali, but now he realized he hadn’t considered that Sarah, as his foster mother, would have to give him up if he adopted him.

“Wow!” Ali’s excitement carried over the sound of rumpling shopping bag. “A soccer ball!”

“Can you give these to Sarah?” He fought to say her name without inflection. He made sure his voice carried to where she stood on the porch. “A gift for the cook.”

He wanted it to be clear.

“Okay!” The boy’s happiness was contagious as he hurried to do as he’d been asked. He grabbed the daisies in both hands and ran the small bouquet to Sarah.

“Thank you, Ali. Mike, thank you, too.” Judging by the unaffected tone of her voice, she was at peace over their breakup.

He was, too. He turned his back, so he wouldn’t see her walking away with his flowers in her arms.

Daisies. Sarah tossed the paper they had come in into the kitchen garbage can. Mike was thoughtful; she had to give him that. She never thought she would be looking over the counter to see him standing in her living room, a pure soldier out of place against her chintz and gingham decor. How could she ever have thought she could get over that man?

Because telling herself she could had gotten her through life without him.

“Dr. Mike, I can kick good.”

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit.” Mike ruffled Ali’s hair. “If it’s all right with Sarah, why don’t you take me out in the backyard and show me?”

“Can I, Sarah?”

She looked into the pleading, delighted eyes of her foster son and couldn’t say no. “You’ve got time before dinner is on the—”

Sneakers beat against the hardwood floors and the French door in the living room was wrenched open.

“—table,” she finished.

“It’s good to see him so active.” Mike took a more leisurely pace, his presence filling the small room. “The first time I saw him in triage, hurting and little and scared—” He fell silent, keeping his emotions to himself.

Sarah’s knees weakened at the picture that created in her mind—a picture she squeezed out as soon as it lodged there. It was too much to imagine Ali like that. What she could see was Mike watching over the boy, one hundred percent committed to saving him. Maybe that was the message God had been trying to get into her head.

She set the vase on the counter. “It must be rewarding for you to see him happy and playing.”

“He’s more than that. He’s thriving, Sarah. After all he’s been through—” Mike swallowed hard and looked away, clearly emotional.

Or as emotional as she had ever seen him. “You had a hand in his recovery.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You performed the emergency surgery that patched him up and got him here. Dr. Blake told me what a fine job you did.” So many emotions were swirling around inside her that she couldn’t begin to separate them. She stepped around the edge of the counter, wanting to be closer to him. “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but I’m adopting Ali. I’ve fallen in love with him. I couldn’t help it.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as if he was unhappy about something, and when he spoke his baritone was strained and raw. “You’re adopting him?”

“I filed the papers last week.”

“Last week?”

“You look surprised. I’m sorry if you don’t approve, Mike—”

“No, it’s not that.” He couldn’t seem to make his thoughts move past her words. His usually clear, crisp, problem-solving mind had broken down. He shook his head, but it didn’t help.

“I just love him so much.” Sarah, so sweet and bright and beautiful, turned on the water at the sink. She pumped soap into her small, slender hands. The fall of the overhead light seemed to spotlight her, drawing his gaze and his heart, forcing him to remember how dear to him she had always been.

His ripped-out heart hurt beyond bearing. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have to look at her like this, being tied up in knots. He didn’t love her, not anymore. But it surprised him that his memories of her were still alive and dear. Memories of the quiet evenings they had spent together in this kitchen fixing meals, laughing over nothing, their conversations easy.

Maybe what hurt was that she had never loved him enough, the way he had always loved her. Her affection for the boy was plain to see. It transformed her. She was glowing.

He yanked open the French door and the agony hit. Ali was not going to be his. Bleakness battered him like a desert windstorm. He tried to tell himself that he’d lost nothing, at least not anything that hadn’t been his at the start.

The trouble was, it didn’t feel that way. He wrestled down the last of his feelings. He caught a glimpse of Sarah as he closed the door. Sarah’s big blue eyes filled with regret and sadness. Pain clutched in his chest. She could still get to him.

The sinking sun hit him square in the eye as he crossed the little stone patio.

“Dr. Mike! Look! I’m the best kicker.” Ali dropped the soccer ball and gave it a boot with his sneakers.

Who was he kidding? He had lost everything. He had lost his chance for this child. It was another hard blow in a year full of them.

“That’s the best kick I’ve ever seen,” he told Ali, and ran to retrieve the ball.

What had come over Mike? Sarah’s heart felt heavy as she pulled the steamer package from the microwave. She had asked him over to dinner for Ali’s sake, definitely not for hers. She tore open the package and poured the piping hot green beans into a serving bowl. She wanted to be over him. She prayed to be over him. So why wasn’t she?

She dropped a spoon into the bowl and carried it to the table. Maybe the reason why wasn’t such a mystery. Outside in the thinning daylight Ali kicked the ball to Mike, who gave a gentle return kick, sending Ali running and laughing. The faint sound of it warmed the air with joy.

It was like something out of her lost dreams to see Mike playing with a little boy in this backyard. How many times had she pictured that over the years she had been waiting for him to commit? She set the bowl on the table, filled with remorse. She had meant to push him closer to her, when all she did was push him away. She had let go of her dreams when she watched him board the transport plane that had carried him off to war.

Now, those dreams taunted her once again with what she could never have.

Don’t think about it, she told herself as she crossed to the French door. Ali had kicked the ball again and Mike pretended to miss, making the little boy clap his hands and laugh with glee. Her feet came to a stop and she stood there watching the man with her broken heart on her sleeve. Mike would be a great dad one day. She had always known that. His concern for children was one of the first things she had loved about him.

You weren’t going to think about that, remember? She shook herself, gathered her fortitude and opened the door. “Dinner is ready.”

“Aw, just one more kick,” Ali pleaded.

As if she could easily say no to that sweet face. She knew Mike was watching her; she could feel the burn of his gaze.

“One more, kiddo, then in you come,” she called out. “I have mac ’n’ cheese waiting.”

“Yay!” Ali dropped the ball, gave it a kick and sent it reeling into the fence.

Mike’s low rumbling voice as he commented on that professional-style kick stuck with her as she retreated into the safety of her little house. Why did she feel choked up? She went to the sink, set out an extra hand towel for the two of them and fetched milk from the fridge.

Mike and Ali burst into the living room. The crisp evening air blew in with them, and their happiness warmed the place like fire in a hearth.

“Something smells good,” Mike complimented as he shut the door behind them.

“Yum.” Ali raced through the house, his sneakers thudding on the wood floor, beaming with excitement. “We put up the lights after, right?”

“As soon as your plate is clean.”

“Yippee.” Ali went up on tiptoe at the kitchen sink. It was their evening thing for Sarah to scoop him up so he could reach the faucet to wash his hands.

But Mike was there, chuckling deep in his throat. “Let me help you, little buddy.”

“I can almost reach,” Ali insisted, although he had a long way to go.

“I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten.” Mike grabbed the boy around the middle and hefted him up.

Ali laughed, a blessed sound. Sarah tore her gaze away from the man and child, so natural with one another. She set the milk carton on the edge of the table. Her hand was too shaky to pour. Memories she had tucked away came back to her—of Mike’s deep baritone rumbling in her kitchen, talking of his work and of his dreams, captivating her then just as surely as she was now.

The distance between them now was so vast, the entire earth could fit in it. He was no longer hers to love. She had blown any chance with him. He stood military straight, with tension hard in the line of his jaw. His shoulders were rigid. His rugged face tight with tension. She still knew him so well, she could read how unhappy he was to be here. How unhappy he was to be near her.

She filled three glasses with milk, holding her feelings still as the man and boy toweled off and tromped her way.

“I see Clarence is still ruling the roost.” Mike took the chair across the table from her—his chair.

She swallowed hard, determined to stay in the present. The trouble was, the man who sat across from her looked changed, too. The year had been a hard one. He didn’t need to say a word for her to know. Sympathy wrapped around her heart, taking it over. What happened to him? She waited for Ali to climb into his chair, the cutie. Mike wasn’t the only one who had changed. The little boy looked ten times happier with his hero at the table.

Life had a way of changing everyone, she realized. The last year had been hard for all three of them. Ali had lost his family and survived heart surgery. Mike had the Army and all that he had seen in a war zone. And she had learned how to live without the man she loved. Without a major piece of her soul.

“We say grace, Mike,” she said gently as he reached for his glass of milk.

“Grace?” Surprise momentarily chased away the hardness on his face. “You say grace now?”

“I’m a Christian now.” She wondered if he remembered the few times they had attended Sunday services at the church in town.

“That’s a change.” His tone was neutral and his face as unreadable as stone.

“A lot of things have changed since you’ve been gone.” She wished she could be the strong, unaffected woman she wanted to be. But the truth was, she would always be vulnerable and moved by Dr. Mike Montgomery.

She bowed her head, folded her hands, and said the blessing.

“What do you think, buddy?” On top of the ladder perched against Sarah’s roofline, Mike waited patiently for the boy down below to appraise his handiwork.

Ali’s face scrunched up as he thought. “I like the red ones.”

Mike considered the gigantic red bulbs that glowed like Rudolph’s nose in the gathering twilight—or about fifty Rudolph’s noses. “Do you want me to put the multicolored strings up on the porch?”

“No. I want ’em here.” Ali padded over to point up at the roofline. “I want ’em both.”

“Up here, together?”

“Yep.”

Mike noticed Clarence was still on his cushion. The cat’s ears had gone back as if he understood the conversation perfectly. “Any chance I can change your mind?”

“No.” Ali’s charming grin clinched it.

“Fine. You’re the boss.” Mike grinned back. “I’m comin’ down for them.”

He had no sooner touched his boots to the ground when Ali, bouncing in place, held up a handful of the smaller twinkle lights. The kid radiated so much joy that his feet were leaving the ground. Mike was glad he’d decided to come. He loved the boy like a son. What was that, compared with his own awkwardness around Sarah? He was a soldier; he could handle it.

“These are blinkers,” Ali explained. “Sarah said that was special.”

Mike chuckled, fighting the instinct to glance to the house where the front windows might afford him a view of her. It was habit, nothing more. He took the string of lights Ali offered. He could picture Sarah standing in the store saying “that was special,” with a roll of her eyes, putting a bright face on everything, even her personal dislike of flashing things.

After he unplugged the extension cord, he tested the ladder just to be sure before climbing back on it. Sarah might not like blinkers, but he wasn’t overly fond of heights.

He had to keep his gaze down, on the porch, as he made his way back to the top of the ladder, fighting to keep from looking for her through the windows. Clarence grimaced at Mike and gave him a disgruntled hiss.

“I’m not steppin’ on his tail.” Ali tipped his head back to explain seriously.

“I see that.” Mike braced his body against the roof and plugged the new string into the outlet of the red.

“I did that once when I first come.” Ali had kept up a steady stream of talk all the while the first layer of lights had gone up. Looked like he was about to do the same the whole evening through.

Mike grinned. “I bet Clarence didn’t like that.”

“Nope. He didn’t get hurt, but I didn’t mean it.” Ali gulped. “So’s I look down now. So I don’t trip on him.”

“That’s mighty thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah.” Ali sighed, as if pleased with himself.

Mike felt his grin stretch wider across his face. His chest hitched a notch, but Ali’s place was with Sarah. And if there was one place that Mike didn’t belong, it was here. How was he going to explain that to the kid?

He was at a loss. He hooked the coated wire through the plastic hook he’d inserted earlier beneath the edge of shingles and went onto the next. He didn’t want to think about a future without Ali. It was as bleak as the one without Sarah. Sadness flattened him.

No emotions allowed, Montgomery. Remember? Mike hooked in the next length of wire, stretched it out. He peered down through the space between his feet to the little supervisor down below. “How does it look, boss? Okay?”

“Okay.” Ali gave him a thumbs-up. “They gonna blink, right?”

“When I plug ’em in they will.”

“I can’t wait.” Ali danced in place, unable to keep still, getting close to Clarence, whose ears returned to their normal position. The cat lifted his head expectantly.

How about that? Mike mused as he descended the ladder to move it over a few feet. The prickly feline liked five-year-old boys. Through all the years he had dated Sarah, he had always thought Clarence was opposed to all human males in general. Apparently it was just him.

Yep, he thought as his boots hit the ground and the cat’s ears went back. It’s just me.

The good news for Clarence was that after tonight, he would never need to be disgruntled over Mike visiting again. He hiked the ladder over and started back up. “Are you and Clarence good buddies?”

“He loves me.” Ali gave the fuzzy cat a gentle squeeze.

Clarence squinted his eyes, tolerating the affection. Mike shook his head, grasping the next ladder rung, and his gaze fell on the front window. This was a different angle, and there was Sarah setting a serving tray on the coffee table. He caught a glimpse of decorated chocolate cupcakes on plastic cartoon plates, bright yellow paper napkins and a small dish of Christmas-colored candies, and Sarah.

She was still as enchanting as ever with her floral-patterned furniture and ruffles everywhere, of her favorite books—children’s books, of course—on the built-in bookcase next to the fireplace, nearby so she could read them anytime. She moved to the fireplace and hit a light switch. Gas flames curled over logs, the soft light haloing her like the dream she used to be for him.

She was a hard habit to break. He’d thought he had accomplished that. That had been the best thing about his deployment—he didn’t have time to think about her and dwell on what he’d lost. He’d gotten over her.

Or so he’d thought. But not enough, apparently. He pried his gaze away and carefully worked the kink out of the light string. Now he could see there was still debris left from the breakup. Debris he had to clean out like shrapnel from an open wound. With each cut of his scalpel, he had to remove every last bit. It was that simple. Sad, true, but it had to be done. There was no other way.