Homefront Holiday (13 page)

She shrugged. How fun was this? She didn’t have any helpful advice for him. She took her chair and waited to see how this would turn out.

“You don’t got outside lights.”

“I figure I can just look at everyone else’s lights.” Mike hefted the pot and brought it to the table, where a trivet was waiting in the center of the little square table.

“Oh.” Ali didn’t look as if he were satisfied with that explanation. “We could get a tree and put it up right there.” He pointed at one of the many bare spots in the living room. “So you can see it real good.”

“You’re real persistent about this tree thing.” Mike took his chair.

Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, she spread her paper napkin on her lap. No way was he getting out of this.

“We got lights,” Ali volunteered. “But I used up all the soldiers.”

Including the nutcracker ornaments.

Mike reached for the spaghetti serving spoon.

“Mike, you forgot again.” Ali shook his head slowly from side to side, and he couldn’t be cuter. “You’re supposed to say grace first.”

“This is your doing, I’ll have you know.” Humor sparkled in Mike’s hazel eyes as he focused on her—and something else.

Surely that couldn’t be approval. Mike wasn’t against Christianity, but he didn’t embrace it, either. Maybe it was best to keep her tone light. “Should we let Ali say the blessing?”

“I do it real good.” Ali bowed his head, already starting. “Dear Father, thank you for the spaghetti and the garlicky bread. Please send a tree with lots of lights for Mike. Amen.”

“That’s a real good blessing, buddy.” He dished up Ali’s plate first.

“I know. I want lots.”

“No kidding.” Mike added another spoonful. “That enough?”

“Nope.” Ali shook his head.

Mike added another spoonful. “How about that? Now you’ve got a spaghetti mountain. I couldn’t eat all of that.”

There
was the Mike she knew. Endless love was like a light in her soul, guiding her and making her see. She knew what he needed. She knew what path God had been leading her on. That path always had been leading her to Mike, and it would always be bringing her back to him.

Ali was giggling, taking up his spoon and waving it in the air as he spoke. “I can eat all of it. And two pieces of bread, too! No, three!”

“Three!” Sarah laughed as she dropped a piece of bread on the side of his plate. “Why don’t you start with one first? And don’t forget to eat your greens.”

“I know. ’Cuz they’re healthy.” Ali dug in with his spoon, bright with happiness. It was as if he had forgotten about his grief, as if it had sloughed off him like a coat. That was a change, too. A big step on the road to what could be.

“Here, Sarah.” Mike was watching her from the other side of the spaghetti pot, holding the loaded serving spoon. “I suppose you want a spaghetti mountain, too?”

“How about a spaghetti foothill. I’m watching my carbs.” She debated and took one piece of bread. This meal wasn’t helping. She would have an extra-large salad—not that it would help, but she would feel better.

“You look fine, Sarah. Just like always.” His voice dipped, rumbling low just as it always did when he was tender with her.

Surely she was reading too much into this? She blushed, afraid to hope. But when she met his eyes, there it was, his steady unblinking scrutiny. He did not look away. Her heart skipped a beat. Every dream she ever had felt on the verge of coming true.

“We have a lot of Christmas parties coming up this week,” she explained. “I want to be able to enjoy the goodies and still fit into my jeans.”

“We’re having a school party!” Ali burst out in mid-bite. “Sarah and me are makin’ cupcakes. And we’re singing songs. You gonna come, Mike?”

He didn’t blink. What was he thinking? Did he feel this, too? Was that tenderness in his gaze? Hope in his heart?

“The school holiday concert,” she explained. “You are welcome to come.”

“I’ll think about it.” Mike’s smile said he would do more than think about it. “If I’m not working that night.”

“Good.” Great, she wanted to shout. She wanted to leap up from her chair, skip around the table and wrap her arms around his neck. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. She wanted to hear that he loved her, too. But she waited, and smiled quietly. This, sharing a cozy evening with conversation and happiness between them, it was more than enough.

It was like Christmas coming early wrapped up in a bright red bow.

W
as the hour up yet? Sarah checked her watch. It wasn’t five o’clock yet. She had twelve minutes to go before Ali’s counseling session was finished. It had felt like an eternity. She worried about her little boy, of course, but she had someone else on her mind, too. That someone was meeting them here and the three of them were going to walk over to get a bite of supper before the school concert.

“Sarah?” Pastor Franklin Fields broke into her thoughts. “It’s good to see you again. Waiting for Ali?”

“Yes. He’s in with Olga.” Sarah set down her stack of papers—the last ones she would have to grade until school started back in January. Tomorrow was the last day of class. “Are you ready for Christmas?”

“Barely. I’m still working on my Christmas Eve sermon. I trust you and Ali will be there?”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Sarah liked the tall, ruggedly handsome pastor. He reminded her a lot of her dad—good heart and truly kind, someone who always did what was right. No wonder Olga was in love with him. “Olga does such fine work here. I hope you appreciate all her wonderful qualities.”

“I am well aware of her qualities, yes.” There was a little smile in the corners of his mouth. Could it be that the minister was coming around? The two had danced around the issue of love for the last few months. “I noticed Dr. Montgomery came to the last few minutes of Sunday service. I suppose you had something to do with that?”

“No. We were supposed to meet in the parking lot.”

“Like I said, I think you had something to do with that.” There was that smile again, enigmatic and kind. He opened the door and stepped into the grief center. Sarah caught a glimpse of the brightly painted walls and the room full of toys before the door closed again.

Usually she was comfortable in the hallway, but today she was antsy. No, she was anxious to see Mike again. Things were starting to go very well. Her hopes kept rising. How could they not? They had spoken on the phone twice already this week. The conversations had been pleasant and nothing momentous, but her love for him deepened with each passing day.

She picked up her stack of work and her sheet of gold stars. If only she could stop thinking about Mike. Her thoughts naturally went to him.

She knew the moment when he entered the hallway. Her heart brimmed with feelings too tender and devoted to voice. He ambled down the hall, looking handsome in black jeans, boots and a black sweater underneath his leather jacket.

Be still my heart,
she ordered, but it was impossible. This man was her dream come true.

“I’m a few minutes early,” he said as he took the empty span of the bench beside her. “There was a lull, and I got out while the gettin’ was good. I still have that soldier in I.C.U. I’m keeping an eye on. He’s touch and go. He’s stable right now, but if that changes again, I’ll have to go.”

“Absolutely. I’ve been praying for him. If duty calls you away, I’ll let you watch the video of the concert afterward.” She gestured to her bag, where her digital recorder was tucked away.

“I’ve got to say, this is a new attitude for you.” He watched her intensely, although he appeared casual and relaxed, as if his words weren’t important.

She knew they were. She knew what he meant. “I’ve done some changing. For the better, I hope.”

“If you had it to do over—” He stopped in mid-sentence.

“I would have waited for you.” The love in her heart had.

He nodded and said nothing more, but he didn’t move away and he didn’t draw back. His eyes searched hers, letting her wish, letting her hope.

The grief center door opened and there was Ali. He looked somber as he tumbled into the hallway. “Mike! You’re here. I told Olga all about you.”

“You did?” Judging by the concerned look on his face, Mike had noticed Ali’s red eyes and tear tracks. “I hope you said only good things. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“I said bad stuff.” Ali teased, managing a big grin. “How you ate four pieces of garlicky bread. You made a mountain of spaghetti.”

“You’re right. That is pretty awful. I’ll try to behave myself at dinner tonight.” Mike ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Me, too.”

There was no way to mistake the bond between them. Sarah couldn’t help adoring both of them. She blinked, realizing she was gawking at both of them. With any luck, Mike hadn’t noticed she was staring a little too adoringly. She slid her papers into her bag and stood. “Are you two ready? I’m starving, and Ali, you are going to need some fuel if you are going to sing well tonight.”

“I know all the words.” Ali took her hand and caught Mike’s in his other. He opened his mouth to start singing and stopped. “So, Sarah. What’s the first words?”

Yeah, tonight was going to be fun, she thought, and saw the same thought on Mike’s face. She helped him out, and he started singing off-key adding a few dance steps. By the time they reached the end of the hall, she and Mike were fighting not to laugh.

“After you, pretty lady.” Mike held the door for her, gentlemanly as always.

She brushed past him, unable to look away from him. He was like gravity, holding her in his magnetic pull. She stumbled onto the top step, and that’s when she saw the grief center’s door swing open and Olga and Franklin Fields walk out together, hand in hand.

One tall, strong silent type down, one to go, Sarah thought as she followed Ali down the steps. She was glad for Pastor Fields. He had taken down his walls of defense and opened up his heart to love. Maybe this time Mike could do the same—truly, without holding back.

They reached the sidewalk and walked along the town green, hand in hand together. Her shoes seemed to be barely touching the ground. She was buoyant with happiness. The bright lights of the shops and the Christmas cheer were decorations on this lovely evening together. The welcoming windows of the Prairie Spring Café drew them from the sidewalk.

“Look up, you two,” Max O’Neal called out from behind the counter. “Mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe?” Sure enough there was a plastic sprig of it dangling from the light fixture overhead. She blushed and avoided Mike, but she could feel his gaze on her lips, him drawing nearer. His strong, capable hand cupped her jaw tenderly.

“Kiss her!” Max called out. “C’mon.”

“Yeah!” One of the diners shouted. “It’s tradition.”

“Well, if it’s tradition,” Mike said in his dusty, gentle baritone. “I’m not one to buck doing things the right way.”

Her heart dropped two feet. Trembling, she watched Mike lean closer. Warmth softened the hard contours of his face, the way it had when he had once loved her. Had he fallen in love with her again? Her soul ached with the prayer.
Lord, let him love me. Please.

Mike’s lips brushed hers with unmistakable tenderness. He lingered, drawing out the kiss with unfailing reverence. When he pulled away, there was a moment when she could see all the way to his heart.

“I guess we had better get to our table.” Mike smiled, genuinely, the shadows vanished.

Only then did she realize that Ali was following Max down the aisle toward a booth and she was standing transfixed, her heart whole once more.

Kissing Sarah. It was all he could think about. Throughout dinner when the three of them were talking and laughing over burgers. Through the walk back to school where he parked next to her vehicle. The three of them. As if they belonged together, just like all the other families streaming into the school’s multipurpose room.

When he had dropped Sarah and Ali off in the wings with the music teacher and the other children, he had caught the way Ali was sizing him up. It didn’t take a genius to see the wheels turning. The boy had been watching the families, especially the ones with dads. As Ali had waved to him, there had been not just hope in his eyes. There had been certainty. Now, as the kids tromped across the stage and onto the bleachers, Ali was gazing out into the audience, searching.

Mike felt anonymous in the shadowed seats. Safer. He could feel things tugging at him, pulling at the battered walls of his soul. It was because of her kiss. Because he had reached out to her with tenderness. He had been carried away, that’s what emotion did to a man, making him feel as if it was okay to open up. That it was okay not to be alone for a while.

And Sarah. She was moving through the semi-dark aisle with her video recorder in hand, searching the rows and rows of folding chairs for him. Oh, she was beauty. She was everything he needed. She always had been. She always would be.

The moment she spotted him, she brightened like the sun. She hurried toward him purposefully, as if he were the only one in the room. When she slipped into the chair beside him, he felt the walls of his defenses crack.

“Look at Ali,” she whispered, leaning close, the silk of her hair tickling his jaw.

Sweet, she was so sweet. He needed to lean on her. To put his arm across the back of her chair and tilt just enough in his chair to lay his cheek against her hair, to kiss her forehead and escape from the loneliness and pain that was burdening him.

What he had to be was strong. He had to resist the love of the little boy up there on the bleachers, singing “Jingle Bell Rock” out of key with the rest of the kindergarteners. He had to resist the weakness. He was stronger than this.

His pager vibrated. He checked the number. Work. The cavalry had ridden in at the last moment, offering him the perfect defense. Whatever it was, he was glad for the excuse to push away from Sarah.

“It’s my soldier in I.C.U.” He spoke low as he grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll keep him in my prayers,” she whispered, glancing up from her video recorder. “You’ll call?”

“Promise.” He could not turn away from her face, her dear face, radiant with love for him. Unmistakable love. His defenses were down, and Mike felt that hit full force. He reeled. A direct hit.

He turned without answering her, forcing his feet to carry him down the long, dark aisle and out the door to safety. He breathed in the cold night air, his breath rising in great misty clouds, and the children’s voices followed him. The door swung closed, mercifully cutting off all ties of the woman and child tugging at him with impossible strength.

He kept going, jogging toward his truck. His footsteps echoed in the parking lot. There was a young soldier in I.C.U. who needed him, so he kept going, shutting off his heart, severing those ties pulling at him.

Sarah was right, he realized, taking out his keys. He
had
kept her at a distance. He was still doing it.

She had been right all along.

Sarah held back Ali’s covers. “Okay, sweetie, climb in. Now it’s time for a good night’s sleep.”

Ali, who had just finished his prayers, hopped to his feet and dove between the camouflage-printed sheets. “Sleep? I wanna stay up with you. I wanna watch the lights blink.”

“They will still be blinking tomorrow. Now, lie down.”

He dropped onto his pillow with a thump. “Mike didn’t get to say goodbye. We gotta call him.”

“He’s probably in the operating room. We can’t reach him there.”

Ali snapped his fingers, all out of options. “I can’t wait for the party.”

“It will come faster if you close your eyes and go to sleep.” She covered him up, snug as a bug and kissed his forehead. “You have sweet dreams, sweet boy.”

“I love you, Sarah.” Ali beamed up at her. “I love you like a mommy.”

“I love you like my own little boy.” Tears blurred her vision.

Now, please, God, let the adoption go through without a hitch.
She gathered a shaky breath, hoped her knees would carry her out of the room and turned off the light switch with a trembling hand. It wasn’t easy opening her heart even wider. It wasn’t safe, but it was the right way to live. Even if she might lose him, she was going to love him with all her might.

And Mike, too.

“Good night, sweetie.”

“’Night, Sarah.”

Although the last few nights had been nightmare-free, she left the door open a crack to listen, just in case. The living room was quiet, the TV off and the Christmas tree lights blinking joyfully. Clarence lifted his head off the back of the couch as she passed by and offered a brief rusty purr. She stopped to rub his ears the way he liked it, and earned even more purring before he lowered his head, satisfied, and dismissed her.

Funny guy. She went to the entry closet and pulled out her wrapping paper storage container. She carried it to the table and popped it open. Chances were good that Ali wasn’t asleep yet, so she would wrap his presents last.

“Don’t look, Clarence,” she told him as she pulled two sacks from the pet store out of the closet.

She carried the bags to the table and sorted through the many rolls of bright Christmas paper. Mike. She wondered how he was doing. She had already said prayers for his patient. If she didn’t hear from him soon, she would say more.

She chose reindeer printed paper for the sack of catnip mice and laid the roll on the table. Tonight had been perfect. Ali’s burdens were lighter. He sure seemed to have had fun. Dinner had been a blast, talking about the little things in their day and enjoying one another’s company. The concert had been adorable. She had already watched the tape of it three times.

And there had been the kiss. The most perfect kiss ever. Gently sweet, it had filled her with dreams. Dreams that were coming true. Mike didn’t have to say it for her to know that he loved her. She had felt it in his kiss and read it in his eyes. It had been in every look and warmed his every word.

She grabbed the scissors from the top compartment of the storage container and began to cut. Was that a squeak of Ali’s bed frame? Was he up? She forgot her wrapping and tiptoed down the hall, going quietly in case she was wrong and listened for signs of his distress.

She heard little feet on the carpet and then silence. Not exactly what she was expecting. She crept down the hallway, straining to hear. Was he getting one of his stuffed animals, or was he having some sort of problem?