Homefront Holiday Page 7

  “Have you heard anything more about your adoption petition?”

  “No, but at this stage no news is good news, or so I’m told.” Sarah breezed outside and into the cold, struggling to put a smile on her face. There was no need to worry Sally. “How did things with your problem child turn out?”

  “He was a perfect angel today.” Sally shook her head, scattering her tidy blond curls, as she fell in beside Sarah on the sidewalk. A serious wind battered the bare branches overhead. “Kids. You’ve got to love ’em. They sure keep us on our toes.”

  “They do.” She pulled her keys from her pocket, wistfully admiring the life her friend had. Sally had three kids—two girls and a boy—and an adoring, devoted husband. Sarah and Sally were the same age. Sarah knew it was wrong to compare herself with her friend, God had a different plan in mind for everyone. She simply wanted a family life so badly, one full of love and laughter and happiness.

  “I would love to chat with you, but I’ve got my kids waiting for me to pick them up.”

  “I have Ali waiting at the church day care, too.” Since he wasn’t in her afternoon session.

  “I’ll see you bright and early.” Sally smiled as she stopped next to her minivan. “Good luck with the Mike situation.”

  “I need it. Thanks.” More than Sally knew. Sarah gave her remote a push. Her locks popped and she pulled open her door. She had a dozen things needing her attention—the press announcements to drop by the newspaper office for the Children of the Day fund-raiser, a quick stop to pick up a few of Ali’s Christmas gifts that had come in on order and a vase of flowers to take to Whitney Harpswell’s hospital room. But where did her mind go? To Mike, always to Mike.

  She could feel his hands on her shoulders, comforting her. She could still hear the kind timbre of his voice. Maybe you and I were never meant to be. Could be that’s why it never worked out between us.

  Rationally, she knew maybe he was right. As hard as it was to admit. But as she dropped behind the wheel and settled her bags on the passenger seat, all the love in her heart cried out, no. No, it couldn’t be. Fourteen years of one’s life should not be a waste.

  She had spent precious years of her life with him, all of her twenties and part of her thirties. Looking forward to her phone ringing and the delight of hearing his voice. Of not being able to wait for the day to end so they could be together over dinner, either at his place or hers, making a meal together and then talking over their day.

  She missed being able to turn to him when she needed comfort and caring. She missed being able to tell him everything and having him do the same. She missed the way he would tell a story out of the most ordinary circumstances, but in a way sure to make her laugh. All the time she had spent terrified for him when he was deployed. All the time her soul felt brighter knowing that he loved her.

  All of that was gone. Forever gone. Mike had said it best: All we can do is go forward.

  She would go her way. He would go his. He would find someone else to date and love and marry. Some other lucky woman to cook with and laugh with and raise kids with. He would be happy—because she would pray that he was so every day of her life to come.

  But how could she be? Without him, without Mike, her future was bleak. Her heart could not imagine loving any other man. Not one.

  She might not be the love of Mike’s life, but he was the love of hers.

  She sorted through her keys, fighting tears, fighting to keep hold of the numbness. She thought of Ali. He had an appointment late this afternoon at the church’s grief center. The last thing she wanted was for him to be late to that.

  She started the engine and blinked until the world came back into focus. She put the vehicle in gear and drove off, as if today was like any other day.

  The tears in Sarah’s eyes haunted Mike. Through the afternoon, he fought to stay distant. He fought to stay unaffected. Not even his defenses could handle the strain. I still love you. Say you still love me, too. Please, can you forgive me? Her vulnerable, heartfelt declaration had hit him like a cluster bomb, fragmenting the cool control he prided himself on.

  Don’t think about Sarah. He pulled into his driveway and into the garage. He wished he could shut off his thoughts as easily as the truck’s engine. He pocketed his keys, grabbed his gym bag and the two plastic grocery sacks from the back and hiked into the house.

  Empty. His steps, his movements and the rustle of the bags settling on the countertop echoed in the empty rooms. He pulled out the plastic containers of potato salad and rotisserie chicken. After washing his hands, he pulled a knife from the drawer and got right to work slicing vegetables and bread and chicken. The lonesomeness pressed on him like the ocean on a submarine.

  I’ve always loved you. Can’t you see that I was afraid to lose you? Sarah’s voice resounded in his head. He forced it to silence right along with the ache echoing within him. She hadn’t loved him enough then; she certainly didn’t love him enough now. She was lonely; that was all. And so was he.

  Within minutes he had a salad bowl filled and a dinner plate reheating in the microwave. He poured a glassful of juice and carried everything past the table into the living room. He had a TV tray set up in front of the television. With a click of the remote the screen blazed to life, chasing away the silence.

  He stabbed into his salad, spearing a cucumber and lettuce. Why couldn’t he get rid of the emotion sitting behind his sternum? Best not to think about why. It probably had something to do with the woman he refused to think about. He was over her. He was not in love with her. So what could it be?

  Scar tissue, that’s what. Some wounds never healed right. Some wounds, no matter how skilled the surgeon or how well mended, hurt now and then. He figured seeing Sarah again was going to hurt. He knew now he’d been right—and the only solution was the right one. He didn’t plan on seeing her again.

  His cell chirped, not his pager. Since he was on call tonight, he gave a sigh of relief before he tugged his phone out of his back pocket. Fellow surgeon Tom Beck’s name was on the call screen. Mike had nothing but respect for his friend and colleague. They had served together overseas. Tom might be young, but he had a steady hand and a calm manner even when bullets were zipping through the O.R. He answered. “What’s up, Tom?”

  “Hey, Major. Some of the guys are on for a basketball game down at the gym. Old-timers versus residents.”

  “Old-timers?” The last time he had looked, thirty-six wasn’t close to old. “I’m offended, Tom.”

  Tom had an easy laugh. “Hey, I didn’t come up with the term. How about long-timers?”

  “Fine. Count me in.” Maybe that’s what he needed to shake this off, a good, hard workout. “When and where?”

  “Gym down at the rec center seven o’clock. Guess what I did?”

  He could tell by the sheer happiness in the sergeant’s voice that he had popped the question to his long-time girl. “You didn’t. I thought you were smarter than that, Tom.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m smart enough to know what I’ve got. She said yes, too. I’m officially an engaged man.”

  “Congratulations.” Maybe things would go easier for Tom. “She’s a lucky lady.”

  “Believe me, I’m the lucky one.”

  Mike remembered feeling the same way. He had proposed to Sarah almost five years ago now. He had surprised her by going down on one knee when they were decorating the Christmas tree in her little yellow house. She had just closed on it and been so excited to put up the tree for the first time that she hadn’t realized what he had been doing at first.

  In his mind’s eye he could still see her aglow from the tree lights and the happy shock on her face. He had been pretty happy then, too.

  Sad, how things changed.

  One day passed and then another. As Sarah cradled a bouquet of flowers in one hand and clutched Ali’s hand with the other, she had to admit her emotional wounds were not getting any better. As they stepped through the hospital’s automatic
doors, she braced herself. She knew what was coming. Now, after she had humiliated herself so completely with her declaration of love to Mike, any mention of him stung.

  “When’s Dr. Mike gonna call? It’s been long.” Ali glanced around the crowded entry area. “Do you think he’s here?”

  “No. And as for him calling you, what did I tell you?” Gently, Sarah nudged him toward the bank of elevators.

  “Uh, that I’m s’posed to wait?”

  “That’s right.” She pressed the call button.

  “But waiting is hard.” Ali flashed his dimple, quite aware she thought he was the most adorable little boy ever.

  “Yes, but you have to think of Mike. He’s awful busy. I’m sure he was just as busy when you were hanging out with him in the MASH unit.”

  “Yep, he was really busy.” Ali gave a heavy, disappointed sigh. “He worked and worked. I couldn’t even see him.”

  “It’s probably like that now.” She hated that this was hurting Ali. What was the solution? Seeing Mike hurt her, and he didn’t want to see her. He was right about there only being one solution. Mike was going to ease away from Ali. What other choice did they have?

  The doors slid open. Ali marched into the empty elevator. “Can I hit the number? Can I, Sarah?”

  “Yes.” She gave him the floor number and watched over him to make sure he picked the right one. “Good boy. You are a smarty.”

  “Not as smart as Dr. Mike.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. This is how it had been going over the last two days. Ali’s requests for his favorite doctor had gone up right along with his number of nightmares. Poor boy. She ruffled his hair, her throat too tight to say what she felt. The doors eased shut and the elevator lifted, chugging upward to a slow stop.

  “I like escalators better,” Ali informed her as he tugged her into the corridor. “Know what, Sarah?”

  “What?” The chances were one hundred percent it would be about Mike.

  “I know what. I colored a picture for Dr. Mike.”

  “You did?”

  “He’s gotta see it.”

  Fortunately they were approaching the nurse’s station and she didn’t have to say more on the subject of Mike Montgomery.

  After leaving Ali with Lily, who was the mother of one of her afternoon kindergarten students, Sarah took the flowers down the hall. Whitney Harpswell had a private room. A soldier from the Prairie Springs army post, Whitney had been missing in action. The young soldier had been found and cared for by villager women and brought to Mike’s MASH unit. Whitney was now making progress, although she was still lapsing in and out of consciousness. She lay motionless, at her side was her husband.

  He turned and stood from his chair at the sound of her footsteps. “Miss Alpert? It’s good to see you in person.”

  “Please, call me Sarah. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you alive and well.” Sarah’s gaze fell to the unconscious young woman in the hospital bed. “I pray for her every day, John.”

  “Thank you. We need all the prayers we can get.” He was too young to have so much worry on his face. “Her prognosis is good, although she is struggling. I can’t tell you how much she enjoyed the card and letters your class sent us when we were serving overseas.”

  “I’m glad. The kids and I have missed being able to write to you two. When you both disappeared—” Emotion jammed into her windpipe, and she couldn’t say the words. How many times had she feared the same would happen to Mike? She set her flowers down on the windowsill, squeezing it in between all the other bouquets. “I don’t know all what you went through, but our prayers were with you then and are with you now. You should know the kids and I care.”

  “That means a lot.” He was a sincere young man, handsome and likeable. A courageous soldier who had sacrificed a lot for this country. “One day soon Whitney is going to be able to come tell y’all herself.”

  “Any day now. As soon as Whitney is up to it, you two ought to come by. We will throw a cupcake party in your honor.”

  “It’s a date.” John’s smile was strained. He looked as if he were tired and worried and struggling to hide it.

  Her heart went out to him. She pulled a manila envelope out of her bag. “These are get-well notes and Christmas cards from the children. Is there anything at all I can do for you? I can sit here so you can grab a bite to eat? Fetch you a cup of tea? Run an errand for you?”

  “That’s nice of you, Sarah. Thank your class for me.” He took the envelope, his eyes bright with emotion. “As for any errands, I’m good. All I need is right in this room.”

  “My cell number is on the card with the flowers. You call me if you need help with anything.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I plan on checking up on the two of you—” She paused, hearing a familiar child’s voice down the hallway. It was Ali calling out for Dr. Mike.

  Mike was here? Panic closed like a fist. She had to stay calm. She had to wrestle down the embarrassment busting to get out. She hoped what she managed was a polite goodbye. Her pulse thumped in her ears as she stepped out into the hall, turning toward him automatically.

  He looked good. Powerful and confident as always in his white doctor’s coat. His stethoscope hung around his neck. He held a chart in one hand. He hadn’t noticed her yet, his attention was on Ali, who was chattering away a mile a minute. She couldn’t seem to focus on what the boy was saying, but she was close enough now to see the dark circles beneath Mike’s eyes. The hollows beneath his high cheekbones. The cut of strain on his chiseled face.

  He didn’t look as if he had been sleeping well. Something bad must have happened to him over there. She knew it. But what?

  “Sarah!” Ali spotted her, running toward her with a note of anxiety. “I waited and waited.”

  “Everything is fine.” She held out her hand, smiling reassuringly. “I was gone five minutes tops. Are you ready to head home?”

  It was best to take the situation in hand. Let Mike know she hadn’t been expecting to bump into him and now that she had, she would not be sticking around. He wouldn’t need to worry about that. She set her chin, grappling down the memory of his rejection. He no longer loved her. She had ruined any chance of happiness long ago. She had to accept that. She had to learn to look him square in the eye. Just not yet.

  “Come on, Ali. Mike, we’ll get out of your way—”

  “Sarah, you’re not—”

  “Good night.” Hold it together, Sarah. She felt Ali’s resistance, he didn’t want to follow her down the hall, but she had to go. She had to get away from Mike because her eyes were stinging and her soul was cracking with grief.

  Before, when he reenlisted against her wishes and got on that plane to the Middle East, she had been hurt and she had been mad, and those emotions had kept her from dealing with the absolute truth. Mike didn’t love her. He didn’t love her. There was nothing she could do to bring him back into her life. He was truly gone.

  She jabbed the elevator button and willed the doors to open. They didn’t oblige. They remained staunchly closed, keeping her from escaping the knell of Mike’s approaching footsteps.

  Chapter Seven

  “Wait a minute, Sarah. Don’t go. Not like this.” He hated that she was in such a hurry to escape him. Something was wrong, and he knew what. It wasn’t easy, but he gathered up his courage and as she faced him, he fortified his defenses. He had to stay remote and unaffected. He had to approach this like the professional he was. “I didn’t mean you had to avoid me.”

  She winced.

  “I shouldn’t have said some things to you.” She glanced at the elevator doors looking like she wanted nothing more than to escape him. Her beautiful blue eyes pinched with pain. “Just a little embarrassed about that, to tell the truth.”

  Stay detached, he ordered himself. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s forgotten.”

  “Oh.” She looked down. Her shoulders slumped a little.

  Too
harsh, he realized. He hadn’t meant to brush aside her feelings. “I meant, we can leave that behind us. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed about it.”

  “I see.” That didn’t help, either.

  Maybe a little, he decided. He no longer knew. He had had a tough night and an even tougher day. “I’m pulling a double shift, so you’ll have to forgive me.”

  “You’re short staffed?”

  “We’re having more deployments, and you know what that’s like. Folks have so much to get done before they head off for a year.”

  She nodded.

  “Dr. Mike!” Ali hopped in place, all healthy little boy energy. Good to see.

  “What is it—” buddy, he was going to say, but that wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. It was going to be tough for them both but for the best in the long run. The pain was back, throbbing like a wound.

  “I forgot to tell you somethin’.” Ali grinned. “I colored a picture for you.”

  Stay impassive, Doctor, he commanded himself. “Nice.”

  “I don’t got it with me. Soooo…” Ali drew out the word. “When can you come see it?”

  He jammed his fists into his pockets. “I can’t. I’m real busy here.”

  “Okay. Then how about tomorrow?” Hope filled those sweet brown eyes, full of innocence and trust.

  “No.” It was the toughest thing he had ever had to do. “I can’t come.”

  “Then the next tomorrow?” That hope flickered, fragile and pure.

  “No. I’m sorry, Ali. I promise to see you before Christmas.” Christmas. There was a thought he couldn’t stand. When times were tough during his deployment, he had planned a lot of things for his future. Ali’s first American Christmas had been one of them.

  “Ooookay.” The boy sighed, wrestling with disappointment.

  Yep, I how know you feel, little guy. The pain exploded. Best put an end to this agony. “Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” Big soulful eyes stared up at him.