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“Sorry about that.” Mike swallowed, battling down the last of his emotions.
“I told him you were probably busy.” Sarah spoke up in that quiet way of hers.
Her serene tone could lure him closer if he let it.
“I heard Whitney is back home and in the hospital.” Sarah tried again to make conversation.
“You know Whitney Harpswell?” He spoke to her, but he kept staring at the crack in the sidewalk.
“Two girls in my class chose her and her husband for the Adopt a Soldier program, and we were writing to them before they disappeared.” Sarah was genuinely concerned. “I heard that you found her.”
“She was found by a villager woman. They brought her to my MASH unit. I just recognized her.” He resisted the need to look at Sarah and studied the boy instead. Ali’s color was good. So was his energy level. His respiration clear and even. He’d heard reports through Dr. Nora Blake, the local surgeon handling Ali’s case, and had talked to the boy as often as he could, but seeing was believing. There was nothing like being able to watch Ali hop eagerly in place to make the knot of worry relax in the center of his chest.
He wasn’t a religious man, but he gave thanks right then and there standing in the middle of the street. He thanked God the boy had pulled through his risky surgery two months ago. He thought of all the others he’d treated—both soldier and civilian alike—who had not been so fortunate. Right from the start there had been something incredibly special about this plucky boy.
Ali stared up at Mike with his wide soulful eyes. “How come you didn’t call? Why?”
Talk about feeling like a heel. Mike jammed his fists into his coat pockets and did his best to ignore Sarah standing protectively behind the boy. “I couldn’t. I was on a plane flying home. I wanted to talk to you. You understand, right?”
“Okay. You gonna call me today?” Hope brightened the boy. “When?”
“I’m seeing you right now.” Mike laughed as he scrubbed his hand over the kid’s short brown hair. “Isn’t that enough?”
“You gonna see me?” Hope lit the boy up like Christmas. “When?”
The kid wasn’t understanding him. Mike shook his head, finding gentleness for the boy, though gentleness wasn’t something he was good at. He felt awkward as he knelt down. He could feel the weight of Sarah’s gaze and he ignored it. He focused on what mattered—this kid was going to be his son. “Sorry, buddy, this is it.”
“But you said today.” Ali cocked his head. His forehead scrunched up in thought. “You can come see me later. For supper? Sarah’s gonna make my second favorite.”
Macaroni and cheese, hot dogs and green beans. Mike didn’t even have to ask. It had been his plan to stop by the commissary on the way to his duplex. Those foods were at the top of his shopping list. He didn’t know how long it would take to get custody of the boy, but Mike liked being prepared. Now, if only he could keep ignoring the sensation of Sarah’s gaze.
No such luck. He drew in a breath, gathered his courage and turned to face her. It took all his strength to keep the past from flashing through his mind, but it did anyway. Remembering that rainy October night as he’d stood huddled beneath her porch roof, wet with rain and ripped apart by her quiet words telling him it was over. Pain hit him, as fresh as a new wound.
Let it go, man. He squared his shoulders, met her gaze and held his heart cement-still. Let her see the man he was today. Resolute, unaffected and completely over her.
Was that a hint of panic flitting across her delicate features? He shifted his weight and stared down the sidewalk. Folks kept swerving around them, hurrying on with their lives. It felt surreal to stand here on a safe, Texas street when a few days ago he had been surrounded by helicopters and artillery fire.
He started walking back a step. Unaffected, that’s what he was. As cold as stone. “Don’t worry, Sarah. I’ll explain it to him.”
“No, uh, Mike, I’m just—” She looked a little helpless, as if she were having a hard time wrestling with all of this. Her hand went to Ali’s shoulder, a protective, motherly gesture, and he had never seen her eyes so sad.
He had to fight the natural urge to make it easier for her. He stormed over to the hardware store’s glass door and yanked it open. All he’d ever wanted to do was to make things easier for her, but it was no longer his duty. This was the woman who hadn’t wanted him. “Forget it, Sarah. You don’t owe me any explanations. Ali, I promise I’ll call you tonight, buddy.”
“No, you’re comin’ to eat mac ’n’ cheese, remember?”
Mike let the door swing closed. As much as he had to walk away from Sarah, he had to set things right with the kid. He owed that to the boy. He ran his hand over Ali’s dark brown hair and ruffled it. “I can’t make it tonight, buddy.”
“You can’t?” Some of the sparkle slid from the boy’s midnight dark eyes. “How come?”
Mike gulped, seeing the disappointment set in. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Can you come tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Mike crooked one eyebrow in surprise. How could he make the boy understand? He knelt down so he was eye level with the kid. But where did his gaze go?
To Sarah, standing on the busy sidewalk, next to the hardware store’s front window displaying Christmas paraphernalia, keeping just enough distance to make it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.
“Dr. Mike?” Ali tugged on Mike’s coat sleeve. “You don’t like mac ’n’ cheese?”
Mike gulped. He was capable of long, unrelenting shifts in the E.R., he didn’t bat an eyelash when mortar rounds vibrated through the floor in his operating room, but having to see the hurt etched on the boy’s face made his knees weak.
“I think there is only one solution and you’re not going to like it.” Sarah shook her head slowly, looking beautiful with the wind in her soft auburn hair and sadness vibrant in her jeweled blue eyes.
Remember, she means nothing to you. He glanced at his to-do list as if that were much more important than she had ever been to him. “I can’t come to supper. I just got back.”
“Today?”
“Midmorning.”
“You probably have a lot to do to get settled.”
“I do.” His answer was clipped; as if he thought she was dismissing him.
“You probably have to run errands. Buy groceries.”
“Right.” He jammed both hands into his coat pockets.
There was no avoiding the truth that Mike was back, that they would be running into him inevitably from time to time, for Prairie Springs was a small town. Ali would never stop adoring his hero, the man who had saved his life when he had been all alone.
It was hard for her, too. Every time she looked at this man, she saw that hero, too. She also saw the man she had once given everything in her heart to—and it hadn’t been enough. It was hard to breathe past the ache that put in her throat.
The past is over, Sarah. You have to accept it. She took Ali by the hand. She had to be practical now. She had to accept that he adored Mike. Denying the doctor who had been his rock would only hurt Ali. That was not something she would do. But the alternative—the solution—was going to be hard for her. Terribly hard.
She eyed the doctor standing before her as objectively as possible. Travel fatigue lined his strong, handsome face and bruised the skin beneath his eyes.
Just say it, Sarah. She took a breath, gathered her courage and prayed that she sounded composed. Indifferent. Over him. “You may as well come for dinner tonight—”
“Yaaaaay!” Ali whooped, already looking just like any other American kid with his fist in the air and happiness on his face.
“Hold on there. I haven’t answered yet.” Mike chuckled in that warm, low rumble she had once loved so well. He was careful not to look directly at her. “Are you sure, Sarah?”
“It’s for Ali’s sake. We both understand that.” Ali may be jubilant, but Sarah felt the thunk of dread. She had been trying to prepare herself for this and there was still no way around it. Seeing how Mike was careful to keep distance between them, to be polite to her and reserved, made her think of all that had changed between them.
Handle this as you would any other guest coming to supper, Sarah thought. If Mike wasn’t Mike but anyone else, what would she be saying right now? How would she be acting? Warmly, that’s how. Friendly. She managed a small smile that she hoped was both. “We usually eat around five. Is that too early for you?”
“Nope. I’ll be there.” He gave her a curt nod.
Nothing personal in that nod. They would look like strangers standing on the street to anyone passing by. Strangers. The way it had to be, apparently. Nothing could make her sadder.
Mike smiled at Ali in that genuine, amazing way that made his hazel eyes golden. “I’ll see you when the big hand’s on twelve and the little hand’s on five. Deal?”
“Deal.” Ali’s grin couldn’t be any wider.
“You be good for Sarah until then, ya hear?” His voice dipped kindly, rumbling deep in his chest.
Sarah held her heart very, very still.
Ali held up one hand to wave. “Bye, Dr. Mike. See you later alligator.”
“I’ll see y’all later,” he called over his shoulder, striding away fast.
Sarah didn’t know why that struck her. Mike had been so far away for so long that distance between them was nothing new. It had happened well before he had decided to tear their love apart.
Of course, it had all been her fault. Hers. She had laid down the ultimatum for him to marry her or reenlist. She had known how committed he was to serving his country. Hadn’t she known down deep that Mike had never loved her that much?
The proof of it was walking away, taking a part of her with him.
No amount of determination, dignity or willpower could change the truth—the truth she was just now seeing. She wasn’t over Mike Montgomery after all. Not a little bit, not even close.
“Sarah?” Ali’s hand caught hers and held on so tight. “Dr. Mike is great. I love him.”
She tore her gaze away from the man, still visible among the sidewalk full of holiday shoppers. She turned her back and she still felt that awful longing.
Sarah drew in a shaky breath. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Two
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.
