Homefront Holiday. Jillian Hart
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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.
“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