The Christmas Baby. Lisa Carter
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jutted his jaw. “Do we get candy after this boring school thing is done?” Behavioral issues had landed Zander in the program.
Ryan leaned back in his chair. “No candy. But—” he made sure he had everyone’s attention “—if each of you complete your weekly goals, we have a big reward planned for the group before winter break.”
Oscar’s face lit. “We get Chwistmas?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Zander responded before Ryan could. “Christmas isn’t real.”
Oscar’s face fell.
Maria stuck out her chin. “Estupido is a bad word. Isn’t it, Mrs. Reyes?”
Anna laid her palms on the tabletop. “We don’t say stupid, Zander.”
“Whatever.” Zander thrust out his chest. “But Christmas is for babies.”
Ryan shook his head. “That’s not true, Zander. Christmas is for everyone.”
He threw Anna an apologetic look. They hadn’t had time to confer. “Mrs. Parks and I were thinking about a field trip next week to the tree lighting in the Kiptohanock town square.”
Agnes Parks smiled. “With milkshakes and dinner beforehand. On us.”
“Milkshakes?” Zander’s dark eyes took on a gleam of interest.
Agnes nudged a math workbook toward him. “And the countdown to everyone reaching their goals begins right now.”
Ryan had his own private countdown. After Christmas, he was returning to the pharmaceutical position he’d abandoned to come home and help his family when his father died.
Yet surprisingly, Ryan had enjoyed the last three years as a fifth-grade teacher. A job far different from the technical work for which he’d trained. And even more of a surprise, he’d relished the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of at-risk kids like Maria, Oscar and Zander. Although with a tough kid like Zander, how much a difference he made remained to be seen.
Zander’s eyes slitted. “You mean them two—” his index finger jabbed the air “—got to meet their goals for me to get a chocolate milkshake?”
Mrs. Parks—whose team specialty included character building and cooperative learning—rested her slightly plump chin in her hand. “Exactly what we discussed earlier, Zander. We’re here to help each other succeed.”
Necessary in most endeavors, academic or otherwise. Crucial in life—as Ryan discovered when he and his siblings rallied to save the family business.
Mrs. Parks patted Zander’s hand. “Zander is fabulous on the computer. He has a lot he can teach us.”
Zander muttered under his breath. “How fun.”
Ignoring him, Anna laid the picture book on the table. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Ryan’s pulse accelerated. And although he understood she was speaking to the children, her smile was for him.
* * *
Anna Pruitt Reyes inhaled the familiar and comforting scents of the elementary school media center. The musty smell of books. The faint leftover aroma of coffee from the teachers’ lounge.
It felt good to teach again. And after fourteen years, good to be home on the Eastern Shore, the narrow peninsula bordered by the Chesapeake Bay on the west and the Atlantic on the east.
Sweet, shy Maria headed off with Mrs. Parks to the computer lab. Zander feigned disinterest while Ryan attempted to show him how to subtract fractions.
Prodded awake, Oscar came over to Anna’s side of the table. And a tender spot grew in her heart for the little guy in clean but ill-fitting blue jeans. Zander’s ragged jacket was totally inadequate for the coming winter months. But though her clothes were from a discount store, Maria appeared cared for.
In her previous teaching post in Texas, Anna had enjoyed her after-school work with at-risk students. And now more than ever, she needed the salary supplement.
She worked with Oscar on sight words and phonetics. While he practiced writing the letters of the alphabet, she took the opportunity to get her first good look at Ryan.
He hadn’t changed much. The same light brown hair. The eyeglasses were new, though, since she’d last seen him. He’d switched to contact lenses their senior year. But apparently he’d gone back to wearing frames, which suited him.
A tie hung askew at the open collar of his blue Oxford dress shirt. In a pair of belted jeans and brown suede shoes, he looked very much like what he was—a schoolteacher. Except far too handsome compared to any schoolteacher she’d ever known.
Placing the textbook in Zander’s backpack, Ryan’s chest rippled with muscles beneath the brown blazer. No longer the endearing, if goofy, boy she remembered with such fondness.
She flushed when Ryan caught her staring. The awkward moment ended as another volunteer arrived to take the children to the transportation bus.
Ryan jumped to his feet. “Great work today, kids.” Lanky as ever, he high-fived Maria and Oscar. Zander moved out of reach.
She straightened the books. “Have a great weekend, everyone.”
Mrs. Parks gathered her handbag. “See you on Monday.” The media center slowly emptied until only Anna and Ryan remained.
“It’s good to see you, Anna. Welcome home.”
Renewing her friendship with Ryan had factored in her decision to finally return home. And because of their friendship, she couldn’t delay revealing the truth any longer. Scraping the chair across the carpet, she rose heavily to her feet.
His smile froze. Behind the brownish-black frames of his glasses, bewilderment dotted his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. If her dearest friend in the world couldn’t understand, how would her parents react?
Almost without intending to, she placed her palm over her abdomen. And his eyes—the blue-green of so many in seaside Kiptohanock—flickered at the movement of her hand.
His features had become carved of stone, all chiseled bone and rugged angles. “I didn’t realize you’d remarried.”
She took a quick, indrawn breath. “I haven’t.” And with those simple words, it began.
His jaw tightened. “I see.” The stubble was new since high school. Giving him an attractive maturity. He looked away toward the window overlooking the playground.
She’d expected better from him. “What is it you think you see, Ryan?”
“I see a woman nine months preg—”
“Seven months.” Heat mounted above her collar. All too aware she resembled a beached whale.
A muscle ticked in that strong, square-cut jaw of his. “A woman seven months pregnant. A widow for the last two—”
“Mateo died nearly three years ago from cancer.”
“Who...?” Ryan cleared his throat. “Whose child is this?”
A child posthumously conceived from her late husband’s stored sperm before Mateo began chemotherapy. But Anna was tired of explaining herself.
“Mine.” She raised her chin. “The child is mine, Ryan.”
He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say to you, Anna.”
“Say that you’re my friend.” Her mouth trembled. “Say that you understand.”
“But I don’t understand, Anna. Why are you— What did your dad say when you got home?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. But because of her protruding belly, she could no longer see her black flats. “Dad and Mom are still at the army base with Jaxon in Europe. They don’t know yet.”