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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.”

H
e 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.