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It was actually a few feet, but to a little boy it was a long way. Sarah worked to keep her thin blades balanced. She hadn’t been on the ice in a long time and it showed. “I don’t know about you, Ali, but I’m starting to miss the wall.”

“I’m not!” Ali held tight, secure between them. “I wanna go fast. Can we, Dr. Mike?”

Mike chuckled. “You’re askin’ me because you figure of the two of us, I’ll be the one to say yes.”

“Ye-ah.” Ali dragged out the word, his eyes rolling upward as he thought. “But I still wanna go fast. Like him.”

A teenaged skater whizzed by.

“Ready?” Mike was saying to the boy. “Just scoot your right skate forward. C’mon, give it a try.”

Sarah dug in with her left skate, keeping her place in the ice as Ali hesitated. He gulped and stared down hard at his toes. She dug in with her tip, waiting for him to gather his pluck and take that first startling slide into the expanse of the ice. Whatever happened, she was going to hold him steady. She would make sure he didn’t fall. It felt good knowing the man on Ali’s other side felt the same way.

Mike didn’t have to say it—it was in his stance, protective and strong. It was in his steady patience as he waited for Ali to shift his weight on his skates. For a moment the boy wobbled and then his left skate went back as his right skate went forward.

She moved and Mike moved and together they kept him upright, flawlessly. Safe and secure, he was laughing. “I’m skating fast!”

“You sure are, buddy.” Mike’s rumbling chuckle was the dearest sound to her. Still.

Sarah tried to keep her eyes focused clearly on Ali as he scooted his left skate forward, in danger of each skate going a different way. But as she pushed off to keep up with him and used her toe pick to stop and hold him steady, she saw the faint image of her lost dreams so clearly. Maybe her lost hopes were not gone, after all.

“Right foot.” Mike’s amused instruction was punctuated with his low rumbling chuckles. “That’s it. You’re gettin’ it, buddy. Left foot. Right foot.”

“Good job, Ali.” Sarah cheered as they turned a shaky corner. The length of the ice rink spread out before them, glossed with light and shimmering as if with hope. There were the remembrances of her dreams, images she could see once again. Of how she had once envisioned being with Mike, teaching their son to skate one day, just like this, side by side with a child between them. With love between them.

Did Mike feel this way, too?

“We can make it all the way to the wall down there, don’t you think, buddy?” Mike’s confidence was tempered by his affection for the boy. The man she loved so much looked transformed, as if he could see his buried hopes.

“Y-yeah.” Ali clearly tried to be as confident. “I’m a good skater.”

“Yes you are.” Her voice was thick and laced with emotion, but she didn’t bother to hide it. Adoring the boy, adoring the man, she held on tight. Patiently she skated one choppy glide at a time, her heart so full it hurt.

F
or a while there, Mike had almost forgotten that the last year had passed. As they skated like the amateurs they were around the public rink, he had almost forgotten that the woman laughing with him was the same one who had devastated him. Now, as he took a bite of the pizza, he took a good look at the woman who had torn him apart.

She sat across from him, looking as pretty as ever, with the fall of light on her red hair and flawless complexion. She took a napkin from the dispenser on the table and gave Ali’s face a few swipes.

“Sarah!” The boy protested. “I like pepperoni juice.”

“But you’re wearing it.” She bit her soft bottom lip to keep from laughing. Love radiated from her. It was plain to see that the match was as good for her as for Ali. She was one lucky lady, getting to love and raise the boy.

He knew there was no place for him in their new family.

You promised me, Mike.
He could hear the pain vibrating in her voice crisp and touching in his memory.
You said this was your last tour. That you were getting out.

That’s what I thought, but I was wrong. In memory, too, he could still feel the conviction of his words and the weight of his decision.
There are still threats to our country, and this is my duty, Sarah. I serve the men and women who put their lives on the line for our freedom.

But she hadn’t heard him. She hadn’t understood. He had always suspected that it was because she hadn’t wanted to. She wanted her way. He wanted everything with her. That is, until he saw the real Sarah Alpert. The woman who hadn’t loved him enough to wait. She hadn’t even bothered to come see him off. To say goodbye.

Pain cut through him. He winced and set down his half-eaten slice of pizza onto the plate in front of him. That was something he couldn’t deny or ignore. Bitterness spilled across his tongue, sour and relentless. She hadn’t cared about him, not down deep. It had nearly killed him to board that bird and leave her behind.

She obviously hadn’t felt the same way.

“Mike, are you all right?”

He blinked, bringing the room back into focus. He was in the present again with the agony of that tough day. Somehow he had to get his defenses up and his heart walled off or he would be vulnerable to that sweet concern on her face. The most beautiful face he had ever seen.

“Sure. You know how I feel about pizza.” It was an old joke between them.

She turned her attention to him, sitting there with her perfect posture. When their gazes met, his heart flat lined.

It was the wrong thing to say.

Seconds passed, and he didn’t know how to break the silence. If he knew what to say, then he could make light of how he always used to say that pizza was his favorite thing on earth, next to Sarah’s smile.

“I need more.” Ali picked up his plate and presented it. “Please.”

“More?” It was easier to joke. He shook his head. “Nope. No more for you, mister.”

“But I’m hungry.” Ali grinned, stifling a giggle. “And there’s lots left.”

“Sure, but it’s all for me.”

“No.” Ali giggled. “It’s for me and Sarah, too. You’re supposed to share, Dr. Mike. Sarah says so.”

“Well, if Sarah says.” He rolled his eyes, earning another laugh from his favorite buddy and grabbed the pie server. “What piece do you want?”

“The biggest!” Ali leaned against the table and studied the pizza tray. “Wait. The biggest one with the most pepperonis.”

“That would be this one.” He served it. “There you go. Sarah? How about you?”

“I’ll take that small one, if you don’t mind.” She scooted her plate toward him, and he kept his gaze down. Maybe if he could avoid looking at her, he could keep the memories down where they belonged and all the unwanted feelings with them.

The trouble was, as he slid the smallest piece onto her plate, she was still in his field of sight. The delicate line of her hands, the splash of her reflection in the window beside him and the dulcet lull of her voice as she spoke with Ali.

“Thanks, Mike.”

“Sure.” He took another piece for himself. Whatever happened, he could not start letting himself think of what might have been. What he had to focus on was why he was here. He had to let Ali go, and he needed Sarah’s help to do it.

“Mike?”

He blinked, realizing too late that she had asked him a question. “Sorry, I missed that.”

“I asked if you were settled in to your new place.”

“Getting there.” He took a sip of root beer. He was no longer hungry. He didn’t want to make small talk with Sarah. No, that’s not what he wanted at all.

“Dr. Mike?” Ali was working on that big piece of pizza and making good progress. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Now?” He put down his glass. “You think there’s more to do?”

“You said lots. Remember?” Ali bounced up onto his knees on the booth cushion. “You said football. You said I could come see you at work. You said about a Christmas tree. You said I would have a room, too.”

“You remember all that?”

“Yep. I remember really good.”

“I’ll say.” He shook his head, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “I promised to do all that with you?”

“No.” Ali pulled a pepperoni disc off his pizza slice. “You promised lots more.”

“You are in big trouble, Mike.”

“So I see.” He braced himself but nothing could prepare him for the impact of Sarah’s smile. It was as if she had reached inside and touched his soul.

Uncomfortable, he looked away, but nothing could diminish the feeling that the rift between them had changed.

“Dr. Mike.” Ali tromped through the front doors of the pizza parlor and onto the twilight sidewalk. “You’re comin’ for hot chocolate, right?”

Sarah swept past Mike, who held the door open for her, waiting for his answer. Tonight had been confusing. On one hand he had scarcely looked at her. He had been withdrawn. And on the other, there were moments that had felt like old times when they had laughed together and everything between them felt effortless.

What was Mike going to say to Ali? She stepped out into the cool night and drew her coat tight around her. Was their evening going to continue? “It’s early, Mike. You might as well.”

“No, I have things to get done.” The shadows seemed darker around him as he joined them. He seemed darker. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll have to pass on the cocoa.”

“How about with lots of marshmallows?”

“Nope, I just can’t.”

“Why, Mike?” Ali skipped to his hero and clung to his hand.

“I’ve got to get laundry done if I want clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow.” Mike didn’t look happy turning the boy down.

Of course not. Sarah padded after them on the sidewalk. The man and boy had an undeniable bond. Maybe this situation didn’t need to be so awkward. She caught sight of their reflection in the candy store’s window. With the man and little boy hand in hand and her a pace behind, they looked like a family to any passersby.

A family. Her step faltered. Emotion gathered within her as she forced herself to keep up with the quick-walking duo. Isn’t that what she had been praying for so hard and for so long? It was as if her dreams were coming back to life.

“Guess this is where we part ways.” Mike halted between two vehicles parked side by side, her SUV and his truck. “It was great spending time with you, buddy. You be good tonight for Sarah, ya hear?”

Ali grinned.

“You’ve got that right.” She couldn’t help ruffling his hair, sweet baby.

He laughed, taking her hand and holding on tight. “Are you sure you don’t want cocoa, Dr. Mike? It’s real yummy.”

“I’m sure it is.” Mike’s sadness was obvious, even in the shadows, even in the night’s darkness. The flash of Christmas lights did not seem to touch him as he wandered between the vehicles.

He was waiting for her to unlock the passenger door, so she hit the remote. The locks popped.

Sure enough, Mike opened the door. “Up you go, kid.”

Ali’s delight was tangible as he was lifted into the air, turned upside down and then gently torpedoed into the backseat. His laughter was a cherished sound.

Maybe it was simply the golden glow from the overhead Christmas star adorning a lamppost, but joy filled her. She had to hope, no, she had to believe, that God had a plan for all of them.

“There. You buckled up safe?”

“Yes, sir!” Ali’s voice was muffled from inside the vehicle, but nothing could muffle his enthusiasm. “About that cocoa—”

Mike laughed, deep and tender and kind. Always a good man. Why hadn’t she seen that before? Even when he was wanting to put off their wedding one more time, she should have known. She should have trusted him. She should never have let him go.

“If you’re trying to wear me down about coming over tonight, it’s not gonna happen.” Amused, he grabbed the door, getting ready to close it. He hesitated, and no darkness or shadow could hide the affection on his face.

He really loves Ali.
The realization sent tingles down her spine. She knew Mike cared about him, but to see his secret revealed—a father’s love—made her hope all the harder.

“Good night, buddy.”

“’Night, Dr. Mike. You gonna call me tomorrow?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He closed the door.

Hope. It twinkled through her like the tiny lights threaded through the shrubbery. It chased away the darkness like the moon in the sky. She wished to know the shelter of Mike’s arms again, to lay her cheek against his iron-strong chest and hear the reliable rhythm of his heartbeat. She had been without him for so long—without his laughter, without his friendship and without his tenderness. Every fiber of her being ached to fix what was broken between them.

“Sarah.” Mike said her name without cold gruffness or stoic indifference. No, her name on his lips was a sweet promise. He opened her door and held it for her. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.” She had much to say to him and a basketful of regrets. As she slid into the seat and he closed her door, she thought she saw regret in his eyes, too.

It was enough to give her the courage she needed. What she had to say wouldn’t be easy. She started the engine and drove off, leaving him behind in the gathering darkness.

“Is now a good time?”

Sarah looked up from her desk at Prairie Springs Elementary School to see Mike standing in her classroom doorway, military straight and soldier strong. Her chicken salad sandwich forgotten, she hopped to her feet. Days had passed without the two of them speaking. Both times he had called Ali, the boy had been waiting by the phone. He had learned to recognize Mike’s number on the caller ID box. She had waited nearby each time, but Ali had hung up the phone after saying goodbye.

“I had wondered if you’d forgotten.” She yearned for his embrace. She ached to be drawn close in his arms and sigh against his chest. Missing him was like an unhealed wound. But he held back in the doorway.

This must be hard for him, too. Of course it would be. She thought of all the distance between them, of all the time that had passed.

“Now is a perfect time.” She took a tentative step toward him. Her low heels tapping on the floor was the only sound as their eyes met.

As if he had been slapped, he jerked away, took a step into the room and glanced around. He could have been a stranger. “Nice job.”

“I try.” They both knew how hard she worked on her bulletin boards—always had, always would. The green board with the candy-cane forest and snowman family carrying gifts. The gold-papered board with the Christmas tree-shaped calendar, brightly decorated with paper ornaments and yarn garlands.

Did Mike remember all the evenings he would sit studying his medical books or journals while she cut and clipped, colored and pasted? She didn’t know how to ask him, and because her knees were shaking, she sat on the edge of her desk. Did he miss the way it used to be?

“This is your best one yet. Or, at least the best I’ve seen.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. The leather bomber jacket he wore suited him, masculine and casual with a hint of wear.

“Thanks. You didn’t come all this way to talk about my artwork.”

“No. I haven’t.” He marched into the room, all business, unreadable. “It’s about Ali.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t what she expected. It wasn’t the subject that had kept her up late at night with her mind spinning out all the possible ways to tell him—as well as all the possible ways it could go wrong. “Ali had a great time with you on Sunday.”

“So did I.” Mike stared around the room at the little desks grouped in a circle, at the wide windows offering views of the wind-swept playground and finally at the tiles in front of her shoes.

But not at her. He kept his gaze shielded from her. His chiseled face was a mask of stone. Mike was, as always, the epitome of self-control. She clasped her hands together and waited. She prayed for guidance to handle whatever he had come to say.

“The thing is, I need your help.” Mike appeared uncomfortable. Tension gripped his jaw. His shoulders were a rigid, hard line.

“Of course I’ll help you.” She would move mountains for him. “This is about Ali?”

“Yep. You have him, Sarah, and that’s the way it ought to be.” He pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets and stared at them. He seemed to be wrestling with something. “Thanks for letting me take Ali on Sunday. I know it wasn’t easy for you. It wasn’t easy for me.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Her hand shook as she smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

“I wish things had been different, too, but they aren’t.” Was he angry or sad? She couldn’t tell, but he went on talking. “What matters is Ali. It means a lot that I could spend time with him.”

“Of course you can see him. You saved his life. You’ve been his anchor, a father figure. Your interest has made an enormous difference to his welfare. Mike, you called him twice a week since he left your MASH unit months and months ago. You have been the one steady adult male influence in his life. I hope you don’t pull away from him because of me.”