Cindy and Mindy laughed gleefully as they made the snowmen’s heads. “I know what I’m wishing for.” Mindy tried to pick up her snowman’s head. “I want our own house with a yard so I can make a snowman whenever I want.”
“With a sidewalk so we can ride bikes.” Cindy struggled to pick up her snowman head and carry it to her dad.
Bill met her and helped carry it. Together they pushed the snow man head on. Sarah helped Mindy with hers.
“We need faces.” Jake poked a finger in each snowman belly. “I made the belly buttons,” he sang, setting off giggles from the twins.
“Lift me, Daddy, so I can give my snowman a face.” Mindy held up her arms to be picked up. She poked holes for eyes and a nose then drew a smiley mouth.
Sarah lifted Cindy, who drew curly hair on the head before making a face. “I made the mommy.” Cindy crowed.
Sarah slid Cindy to the ground. “You girls are getting too big for all this lifting, I think.” She put her hand on her belly while she and Bill shared a knowing smile.
Hannah saw there was no one at the wishing well and as she approached it she realized she had been wishing for two years for her father to come back. She had been drawn to the well tonight because it always made her feel better to make a wish. What should she wish for now?
“I know what I’m wishing for.” Jake came up behind Hannah and slid his arms around her. “I’m hoping it’s your wish, too.”
She turned in his arms and kissed him. She felt her heart beating faster and realized she could feel his heart beating with hers. She finally heard her heart and what it wished for, a wonderful, happy life with him. Breathless, she said, “Yes.”
The End
Never Too Late
Ana Balen
Chapter One
SOPHIE
“So you can understand how this concerns me,” Mrs. McConnell gave a slight nod in my direction, clearly satisfied that I had listened to her half an hour explanation of why she needed to see me, the new town doctor, immediately.
“Well...” I said tilting my head and taking her hands in mine to get a closer look. They were cold, which was of some concern, but remembering her age the bad circulation wasn’t that much of concern.
I knew I should have come to see her the moment I put my bags down in my grandmother's house, she was her best friend after all. But I was so tired, not to mention had a headache from the travel and constant crying, that I couldn't bring myself to go back out again. All I wanted to do was get in my old bedroom, change into my shorts and tank top and then crawl into my old bed and sleep for two days.
Which was exactly what I did.
Then I had to arrange everything for the funeral.
And go through my grandmothers things, pack up what I was giving to Goodwill and immerse myself in memories that were living in that house.
After, I had to clean the house that was sanctuary all those years ago.
And once I learned that Hopeful lost its doctor, and I decided to open up my practice here, I was all in on that.
Still, in the back of my mind the fact that I didn't see Mrs. McConnell poked me and I knew I had to do it soon.
I just wasn't ready.
I knew if I saw her all the old memories would rush back in. And even though I loved my grandmother immensely, for the last seventeen years she came to Seattle to spend some time with me. It was too painful to come back to Hopeful, even for a few days.
And we never talked about the reason why I stopped coming back home.
She just accepted the new situation in her stride.
She never pushed.
She was just always there for me.
Until now.
And that pain was as painful as the one I felt seventeen years ago.
So I stayed hidden, even when I was not hiding.
I was nervous about coming back. The life I had in Seattle was everything I dreamt about. Being one of the best thoracic surgeons was the goal I worked for and I had it in my reach when I had my accident.
And then, one by one the dominos fell.
Or maybe they started when my parents died in the car accident and I came here to Hopeful to live with my grandmother?
Either way, the last one struck the ground when Mrs. McConnell called with dire news.
“I'm sorry, my dear. It pains me to tell you this, but this morning we lost our Evelyn,” she said in uncharacteristically small and soft voice.
It took me two hours to pack my bags and be on my way to Hopeful.
It took us two days to put my grandmother in the ground.
And it took me three days to decide I never wanted to leave again.
In all that time, I hadn't once stepped foot into Mrs. McConnell's home. I hadn't gone and rung her doorbell. Call her. I even left the graveside before she had a chance to talk to me.
And now, a month later, she’d lost her patience.
“I wouldn't say that a running nose and the need to have a nap in the afternoon is something to worry about, Mrs. McConnell,” I squeezed her arms, shaking them lightly. Seeing her this close, having her talk to me, just reinforced the fact I missed this woman as much as I did my grandmother. “I'll give you a vitamin shot,” I said standing up and going around my desk to call the nurse in. “And you'll feel much better.”
Mrs. McConnell gave me a small satisfied smile and kept glancing at the door. I wouldn't think about it until later that night, but after giving it some thought she probably had something to do with what happened next.
And what happened was the loud sound of the door crashing to the wall next to it and an enraged man standing on the threshold, growling, “What the fuck are you still doing here?“
I was too shocked to answer him. Too shocked to even move.
Because there he was.
Tall.
Dirty blonde cropped short at the sides, longer on top of his head, sticking in all directions like he just got out of bed, hair.
Strong, almost square jaw that had a new addition in the form of short beard. The kind that scratched just right. And yes, even at a glance I knew that.
Just as I knew that his brown eyes had a dark blue circle on the outer edges of his irises. The eyes that were rimmed with thick, short eyelashes.
He was even more handsome than I remembered.
And I remembered everything about him.
As I did the fact that he moved gracefully, almost fluidly no matter his bulky figure.
And the washed up jeans he was wearing told me that he became even more muscular.
I just hoped he didn't become one of those boxed muscled men, as more and more seemed to jump out from every corner.
Yes, oh yes.
I remembered.
I remembered his fuller bottom lip and how good it felt to be able to nibble on it.
How sweet they tasted.
Or how harsh they could be spitting out the words that were meant to hurt, just like he was doing now.
“You should have left by now,” the voice I could still hear in my dreams whispering sweet nothings in my ear was nowhere near now. “Why are you still here?”
It was a question I thought I knew the answer to.
But looking at Dylan, having all my memories of him, of us rushing in, I knew they were just lies I told myself to sleep easier.
With shaking hands I tried to hold myself up, clutching the desk that was in front of me.
I opened my mouth to say something.
What?
I had no idea.
And, I would never get a chance to find out because the moment he saw my mouth open, he jabbed a finger my way, his face enraged and muttered angrily, “You better get out of this town.”
He then, in complete one-eighty turned to Mrs. McConnell and said in a soft tone, “I'll take you home when you're ready. Just come on out, I'll be in my truck.”
And without even glancing my way, as he did seventeen years ago, he turned around and walked out.
Chapte
r Two
DYLAN
Dylan Thomas was still seething when he pulled up in front of the school.
He was the last car in the line and was for the first time ever grateful for the eager soccer mommies who have probably waited an hour so they could be the first in line and be able to give smug looks to all other parents. It gave him time to tamp down the anger that only seeing Sophie in the flesh was able to send sailing through him.
Zara didn't deserve to be on the other end of it.
So he needed to cool down.
He couldn't believe Sophie decided to stay here.
Come here and say goodbye to her grandmother, yeah.
Take time to sort out things that needed sorting? Again, yeah.
But open up a practice the moment Mrs. McConnell made sure she heard that Hopeful lost its only doctor? No way in hell.
And he knew Mrs. McConnell was behind that little stunt. Just like she was all those years ago that ended up with Sophie and him getting together.
It took Dylan years to get his shit together, after Sophie left Hopeful to go to college, to get his life back on track.
And it took more years for him to meet a woman and settle down, make a family.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong woman that he chose, again. But he did get his daughter Zara out of that mess. So he couldn't regret a single moment he spent with Cindy, his ex-wife.
The horn blaring behind his car had him jolting in his seat and hitting the side of his head to his window. “Shit,” he muttered rubbing the sore spot while slowly getting to the pickup spot.
Not three seconds later, the back door opened and a shriek was heard, “Hey Daddy!”
His girl was standing outside, not getting in the car and still, she started talking like she was just next to him. “Guess what? Miss. Simms chose my drawing for the board that'll be put up next to the well for Christmas this year. And I got a gold star for my homework today. Miss Simms said I did best of my whole class. And...”
“Zara, baby girl, get in the car and you can tell me all about it then,” he said in a gentle voice over his shoulder. Otherwise, his girl would stand out in the cold until she said all she had to say.
And sometimes that took hours.
“Oh, right,” she muttered, her knitted hat falling down her forehead. She pushed the hat up, while she stood outside and then jumped up into her booster seat.
After she did her seatbelt up, he put the car in gear and took his girl home. And she talked a mile a minute all the way.
And he loved every single second of it.
It was after they got home, after Zara did her homework, after they went to get Mrs. McConnell and after they had dinner.
Zara was unusually quiet and played with the food on her plate all through dinner.
It took more than gentle encouragement from him to get her to eat.
Mrs. McConnell kept sending him questioning glances and he kept shrugging his shoulders not knowing what was going on. She seemed fine in the afternoon. She did sniffle a little and was cranky after he got her home, but nothing alarming.
It was then when the first cough came.
And that wasn't just a tiny, little, dry cough.
No, it was wet and it hurt your chest just hearing it.
Dylan put the dishes on the counter next to the sink, went to his daughter that had her eyes fixed on the paper in front of her, her little hand holding a crayon slacked on top of it, not moving. Her eyes fixed on it.
He crouched beside her, noting a pale look on her cheeks and he touched her forehead.
He had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't let the curse out in Zara's ear at the hotness and clamminess of her skin.
“Daddy, I don't feel so good,” Zara whispered turning her head and looking at him. Her eyes also had a glassy look to them.
“I see that baby,” he muttered cupping her cheek. “Let's get you to bed,” he started to get to his feet when a violent lurch threw Zara's body back and then forward and she threw up all over his jeans and shoes.
“Shit,” this time he couldn't stop himself.
Chapter Three
SOPHIE
“We have a full waiting room,” Christine said in her, what I came to realize, usual cheerful voice. “This flu that hit the town has almost everyone in its clutches.”
“Hmmm...,” I hummed my answer. I didn't have much energy to talk. But that didn't stop Christine from caring on.
“First we have little Zara. The poor thing got a fever last night and ended up throwing up most of the night according to her Dad,” she continued without me having to participate. “She also has a nasty cough.”
“Okay, do you have her file?” I asked in flat tone.
“Yep, right here,” Christine lifted her arm holding the file and went around without stopping.
I turned in my chair and looked out the window of my office letting Christine prepare everything for the day.
I was so tired.
And the view of the mountains always brought me a sense of serenity.
I came home last night, got my hot cocoa and decided to get the Christmas decorations out so I could go through them and see if I needed to buy anything new.
My grandma was always big on Christmas and had this whole tradition wrapped around it. Starting with decorating the house, then Christmas tree and baking and ending with the town decorating the well.
Unfortunately, I was late in the beginning of the tradition. And would be even more late because I found a box that had the word pictures in black ink written on it and I got lost.
I spent hours pouring into the pictures of my parents and grandma. The bitter-sweet memories washing the wound on my heart that reopened the moment I got that call over a month ago.
If I was honest, it opened almost seventeen years ago when I left Hopeful.
It wasn't until I got to the bottom of the box and the pictures of Dylan, that the hurt came.
So I left my cocoa to get cold and went for wine.
You better get out of this town.
His words played on endless loop in my mind all night.
The rage that was on his face was such a contrast of the man I used to know, of the face I was looking at in those pictures.
And one thing became clear.
Well, two actually.
I realized that I still knew every line of his face by memory, even though there were new lines that only time and experience can give us, but not much. Still, I knew them somehow. And what became clear was that I still loved each and every one of them. And I could so totally get lost in discovering and loving the new ones.
And also, he was right. I needed to get out of town.
I needed to get away from Hopeful, from him. Because if I didn't he would only break my heart again. And I barely managed to survive the first time.
I decided to stay until after Christmas, I figured I deserved one last Christmas tradition of my grandmothers. And since I was here, I didn't want to miss the decorating ceremony.
I missed too much already. There was no harm in giving myself this one last piece of history.
“Are you ready?” Christine's voice came out from behind me and I turned around to see her standing near the door holding a doorknob, ready to start the day.
“Yes, sorry,” I cleared my throat and blinked rapidly to chase away the tears that started to gather. “Send the first patient in, please,“ the good thing about getting medical training in Seattle was that it was constantly busy, you always had a new patient and not a lot of time to spend with the old ones, so my formal voice was something that never got away.
Christine turned and opened the door, “Zara, come in,” and I looked up just in time to see a familiar man with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes that threw daggers at me, walking in.
And in his arms he had a little girl who had the same hair as him. Only hers came to the middle of her back.
I stood up, not knowing what to do or what was going on. I wasn't ready for
another shouting episode from him.
I already decided I was going to leave; I just couldn't leave these people so abruptly. Especially now when the flu came.
“This is Zara, she's six, has a fever, cough and she's throwing up since last night. Her Dad said he tried to get the fever to break and did give Zara fluids but with no luck. Everything she puts in her mouth comes right back up,” Christine whispered handing me the file.
Zara?
Her dad?
Oh, God. Dylan had a daughter.
And even seeing just the back of her head as she snuggled into her dad, I knew she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
How could she not be?
She was his.
“Thank you,” I murmured not looking away as Dylan sat in the chair in front of my desk and hoisted Zara in his arms.
The moment Christine closed the door behind her, he hissed at me, “Don’t think I changed my mind. I still want you to leave.”
I didn't say anything just glanced at Zara's back quickly.
I didn't know how their dynamic worked, but I didn't think he would be openly mean to anyone in front of his daughter.
“She's asleep,” he muttered, answering my unspoken question.
“You can put her on the bed,” I whispered, indicating the examination table that was by the wall to my right.
Something washed over his face when I did.
Something that was so beautiful and so familiar it was like a balm to my battered heart. And I wanted to have more time to look at it and maybe get it to start closing the wound but he hid it before I got the chance.
I could see his shoulders got tense for some reason but he kept looking at me, not saying anything. I indicated to the bed again with my head and opened Zara's file so that I wouldn't witness that angry look when it came back.
“Christine said she's had a fever and is throwing up since last night,” I said quietly not wanting to wake up the little girl.
When there was no answer, I looked up to see Dylan standing near the table, holding Zara's hand. He was looking at me with that familiar look again, but his posture was tense. It seemed like every muscle in his body was ready to pounce or probably scoop up his daughter and run away from here.
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