Homefront Holiday

by Jillian Hart

  You weren’t going to think about that, remember? She shook herself, gathered her fortitude and opened the door. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Aw, just one more kick,” Ali pleaded.

  As if she could easily say no to that sweet face. She knew Mike was watching her; she could feel the burn of his gaze.

  “One more, kiddo, then in you come,” she called out. “I have mac ’n’ cheese waiting.”

  “Yay!” Ali dropped the ball, gave it a kick and sent it reeling into the fence.

  Mike’s low rumbling voice as he commented on that professional-style kick stuck with her as she retreated into the safety of her little house. Why did she feel choked up? She went to the sink, set out an extra hand towel for the two of them and fetched milk from the fridge.

  Mike and Ali burst into the living room. The crisp evening air blew in with them, and their happiness warmed the place like fire in a hearth.

  “Something smells good,” Mike complimented as he shut the door behind them.

  “Yum.” Ali raced through the house, his sneakers thudding on the wood floor, beaming with excitement. “We put up the lights after, right?”

  “As soon as your plate is clean.”

  “Yippee.” Ali went up on tiptoe at the kitchen sink. It was their evening thing for Sarah to scoop him up so he could reach the faucet to wash his hands.

  But Mike was there, chuckling deep in his throat. “Let me help you, little buddy.”

  “I can almost reach,” Ali insisted, although he had a long way to go.

  “I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten.” Mike grabbed the boy around the middle and hefted him up.

  Ali laughed, a blessed sound. Sarah tore her gaze away from the man and child, so natural with one another. She set the milk carton on the edge of the table. Her hand was too shaky to pour. Memories she had tucked away came back to her—of Mike’s deep baritone rumbling in her kitchen, talking of his work and of his dreams, captivating her then just as surely as she was now.

  The distance between them now was so vast, the entire earth could fit in it. He was no longer hers to love. She had blown any chance with him. He stood military straight, with tension hard in the line of his jaw. His shoulders were rigid. His rugged face tight with tension. She still knew him so well, she could read how unhappy he was to be here. How unhappy he was to be near her.

  She filled three glasses with milk, holding her feelings still as the man and boy toweled off and tromped her way.

  “I see Clarence is still ruling the roost.” Mike took the chair across the table from her—his chair.

  She swallowed hard, determined to stay in the present. The trouble was, the man who sat across from her looked changed, too. The year had been a hard one. He didn’t need to say a word for her to know. Sympathy wrapped around her heart, taking it over. What happened to him? She waited for Ali to climb into his chair, the cutie. Mike wasn’t the only one who had changed. The little boy looked ten times happier with his hero at the table.

  Life had a way of changing everyone, she realized. The last year had been hard for all three of them. Ali had lost his family and survived heart surgery. Mike had the Army and all that he had seen in a war zone. And she had learned how to live without the man she loved. Without a major piece of her soul.

  “We say grace, Mike,” she said gently as he reached for his glass of milk.

  “Grace?” Surprise momentarily chased away the hardness on his face. “You say grace now?”

  “I’m a Christian now.” She wondered if he remembered the few times they had attended Sunday services at the church in town.

  “That’s a change.” His tone was neutral and his face as unreadable as stone.

  “A lot of things have changed since you’ve been gone.” She wished she could be the strong, unaffected woman she wanted to be. But the truth was, she would always be vulnerable and moved by Dr. Mike Montgomery.

  She bowed her head, folded her hands, and said the blessing.

  “What do you think, buddy?” On top of the ladder perched against Sarah’s roofline, Mike waited patiently for the boy down below to appraise his handiwork.

  Ali’s face scrunched up as he thought. “I like the red ones.”

  Mike considered the gigantic red bulbs that glowed like Rudolph’s nose in the gathering twilight—or about fifty Rudolph’s noses. “Do you want me to put the multicolored strings up on the porch?”

  “No. I want ’em here.” Ali padded over to point up at the roofline. “I want ’em both.”

  “Up here, together?”

  “Yep.”

  Mike noticed Clarence was still on his cushion. The cat’s ears had gone back as if he understood the conversation perfectly. “Any chance I can change your mind?”

  “No.” Ali’s charming grin clinched it.

  “Fine. You’re the boss.” Mike grinned back. “I’m comin’ down for them.”

  He had no sooner touched his boots to the ground when Ali, bouncing in place, held up a handful of the smaller twinkle lights. The kid radiated so much joy that his feet were leaving the ground. Mike was glad he’d decided to come. He loved the boy like a son. What was that, compared with his own awkwardness around Sarah? He was a soldier; he could handle it.

  “These are blinkers,” Ali explained. “Sarah said that was special.”

  Mike chuckled, fighting the instinct to glance to the house where the front windows might afford him a view of her. It was habit, nothing more. He took the string of lights Ali offered. He could picture Sarah standing in the store saying “that was special,” with a roll of her eyes, putting a bright face on everything, even her personal dislike of flashing things.

  After he unplugged the extension cord, he tested the ladder just to be sure before climbing back on it. Sarah might not like blinkers, but he wasn’t overly fond of heights.

  He had to keep his gaze down, on the porch, as he made his way back to the top of the ladder, fighting to keep from looking for her through the windows. Clarence grimaced at Mike and gave him a disgruntled hiss.

  “I’m not steppin’ on his tail.” Ali tipped his head back to explain seriously.

  “I see that.” Mike braced his body against the roof and plugged the new string into the outlet of the red.

  “I did that once when I first come.” Ali had kept up a steady stream of talk all the while the first layer of lights had gone up. Looked like he was about to do the same the whole evening through.

  Mike grinned. “I bet Clarence didn’t like that.”

  “Nope. He didn’t get hurt, but I didn’t mean it.” Ali gulped. “So’s I look down now. So I don’t trip on him.”

  “That’s mighty thoughtful of you.”

  “Yeah.” Ali sighed, as if pleased with himself.

  Mike felt his grin stretch wider across his face. His chest hitched a notch, but Ali’s place was with Sarah. And if there was one place that Mike didn’t belong, it was here. How was he going to explain that to the kid?

  He was at a loss. He hooked the coated wire through the plastic hook he’d inserted earlier beneath the edge of shingles and went onto the next. He didn’t want to think about a future without Ali. It was as bleak as the one without Sarah. Sadness flattened him.

  No emotions allowed, Montgomery. Remember? Mike hooked in the next length of wire, stretched it out. He peered down through the space between his feet to the little supervisor down below. “How does it look, boss? Okay?”

  “Okay.” Ali gave him a thumbs-up. “They gonna blink, right?”

  “When I plug ’em in they will.”

  “I can’t wait.” Ali danced in place, unable to keep still, getting close to Clarence, whose ears returned to their normal position. The cat lifted his head expectantly.

  How about that? Mike mused as he descended the ladder to move it over a few feet. The prickly feline liked five-year-old boys. Through all the years he had dated Sarah, he had always thought Clarence was opposed to all human males in general. Apparen
tly it was just him.

  Yep, he thought as his boots hit the ground and the cat’s ears went back. It’s just me.

  The good news for Clarence was that after tonight, he would never need to be disgruntled over Mike visiting again. He hiked the ladder over and started back up. “Are you and Clarence good buddies?”

  “He loves me.” Ali gave the fuzzy cat a gentle squeeze.

  Clarence squinted his eyes, tolerating the affection. Mike shook his head, grasping the next ladder rung, and his gaze fell on the front window. This was a different angle, and there was Sarah setting a serving tray on the coffee table. He caught a glimpse of decorated chocolate cupcakes on plastic cartoon plates, bright yellow paper napkins and a small dish of Christmas-colored candies, and Sarah.

  She was still as enchanting as ever with her floral-patterned furniture and ruffles everywhere, of her favorite books—children’s books, of course—on the built-in bookcase next to the fireplace, nearby so she could read them anytime. She moved to the fireplace and hit a light switch. Gas flames curled over logs, the soft light haloing her like the dream she used to be for him.

  She was a hard habit to break. He’d thought he had accomplished that. That had been the best thing about his deployment—he didn’t have time to think about her and dwell on what he’d lost. He’d gotten over her.

  Or so he’d thought. But not enough, apparently. He pried his gaze away and carefully worked the kink out of the light string. Now he could see there was still debris left from the breakup. Debris he had to clean out like shrapnel from an open wound. With each cut of his scalpel, he had to remove every last bit. It was that simple. Sad, true, but it had to be done. There was no other way.

  Chapter Three

  “Can they blink now?” Ali was craning his neck, trying to see as much as he could from the driveway. Mike had finished putting up the second string of lights at the far end of the house.

  “Wait till I come down, ya hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As he climbed down, Mike listened to the thump, thump of Ali’s sneakers on the cement as he bounced up and down, unable to hold back his excitement.

  Ali caught his hand and tugged. “C’mon. Hurry!”

  Mike’s lungs seized up. The images of what he had let himself think about back in the desert took him over—images of what it would be like to have Ali for his son. Cooking dinner, taking him to school, taping crayon masterpieces to the refrigerator, hanging Christmas lights from the roof.

  Not possible now, Mike thought as he knelt down at the gutter spout. Looks like he would have to carve those feelings out, too.

  One end of the orange extension cord snaked up behind the downspout, and the other half was on the ground, just as he’d left it. He handed the plug to Ali. “You do the honors.”

  “Can I? Oh, boy!” Ali’s eyes widened and grasped it fast. He wasted no time getting the short distance to the outside outlet. Mike knelt down beside him to hold back the outlet’s cover and helped him position the plug. It connected, colored light flared like fireworks against the dark sky and Ali clapped. “Looky. It’s blinkin’.”

  “Good job, soldier.”

  Ali straightened up and lifted his hand to his brow to salute. “I’m gonna be just like you.”

  His throat closed and he stared at the flashing lights adorning Sarah’s little house until they no longer blurred. But now, he realized what he had lost. This little boy. He would never have him for a son.

  “I love it. I love it.” Ali clasped his hands together, transfixed. “I love it! I want more. Can we do more, Dr. Mike? Pleeeease?”

  “You want more?” He hoped his voice sounded normal. “Isn’t this enough?”

  “No, sir.” Eyes wide, face happy, dancing in place, Ali was obviously thriving here with Sarah.

  Could he fight for the right to adopt Ali? Should he? Maybe that was the bigger question. Ali had lost everyone he had loved; he did not need to lose Sarah, too.

  Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Turn off your heart, man. Just turn it off. He didn’t let his gaze stray to the golden light of the window, where he might see Sarah. “You need enough lights for the Christmas tree, don’t you?”

  “But I want lots.” Ali jumped in place. “So they flash and flash.”

  A chuckle broke loose. “If I were you, I would beg Sarah to put the Christmas tree right at that big window there, so you can see the lights from the front of the house, too.”

  “Yeah. Cool.” Ali clasped his hands together. “Those lights flash. That’s what Sarah said.”

  It amazed him how fast the boy was acclimating to his new country and new life with Sarah. Sure, being in school now with kids his own age helped, but it also said a lot about Ali’s resilience and Sarah’s love for him. Mike wrestled down his bitterness.

  “Sarah!” Ali bounded away, full of energy and pounded up the porch steps. “Sarah!”

  “Who’s making all this noise out here?” Sarah’s gentle voice was full of laughter. “I can’t believe it’s you, Ali. For a minute there, I thought it was Clarence.”

  Ali laughed and it was a precious sound, full of glee. “No, it’s me! You gotta come see.”

  Mike had forgotten Sarah’s charm. Maybe because it tore him apart to remember. But there it was, in the sweeping smile and brilliant eyes as she scooped her cat into her arms like a furry baby. She lugged him with her as she padded down the steps, washed in the jeweled glow from the lights. He could hear the cat’s rusty purr as Sarah breezed near.

  “You boys did a great job,” she praised. “Ali, do those lights blink enough for you?”

  “No! I want more.”

  “Those are the flashiest lights we could find in the store, silly boy.” Warm gentle love, that was Sarah’s voice. It was no surprise why Ali’s gaze was one hundred percent pure adoration. Even when she was upset, which she had to be having him here, she was kind. “Mike, thanks for helping out. I never could have done such a good job.”

  “No problem.” His voice sounded choked as the air pressure changed and the steel walls around his heart buckled. The several feet separating them seemed to vanish as they gazed up at the lights together, as if shoulder to shoulder.

  You don’t feel a thing, Montgomery, he ordered himself. You will not feel one single thing.

  “Do you boys want to come in and warm up?” Her voice moved through him like a melody. “I’ve got chocolate cupcakes and cocoa for you.”

  “Oh, boy. I do!” Ali clapped his hands. “That’s my favorite.”

  “Yes, I know, cutie. It used to be Mike’s favorite, too.” Her gaze pinned him with a quiet question. In the silence settling between them she was asking him to stay.

  “Dr. Mike.” Ali grabbed his hand and tugged. “We’re alike.”

  Emotion lodged in his throat, burned behind his eyes. He wanted to stay for the boy’s sake, but how would this end? Ali would soon belong to Sarah legally, and there was no future for Mike here. He thought of the span of life he had traveled without her. He had covered too much ground to go back. He had too much pride to keep looking the woman, who had ripped him to pieces, in the face.

  He took a backward step. “I sure would like to stay with you, Ali, but I gotta get back.”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  Looking into those honest eyes made the lump in his throat harder to swallow. He missed the boy. Months ago when he had sent the boy off for his flight to the States, the desert outpost had been lonely without him.

  All gone now. He squared his shoulders and put away those memories, those feelings. “I have to go. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. How’s that?”

  “When tomorrow?” Ali’s grip grew tight enough to cut off circulation. “What time are you gonna call?”

  He saw pain for the boy soft on Sarah’s beautiful face, but he did what he had to do. The boy wasn’t his to love. The woman never really had been. He did an about-face and plucked his truck keys from his
pocket. Tomorrow was Sunday. “How about lunchtime? Before noon.”

  “But I wanna see you, Dr. Mike.” Ali’s happiness dimmed, and the grief that his smile had been covering up was heartbreaking. “I waited and waited. Just like you said. We are gonna get pizza right away. You promised.”

  “I did.” Pressure built behind his solar plexus. It wasn’t just guilt. It wasn’t just disappointment. How much had Ali been counting on getting together? Mike thought of all their phone conversations, and all the veiled suggestions he had made to do things with him. At the time, he had been feeling out the idea of adoption and picturing himself in the role as dad. Now he saw that Ali may have heard them as promises.

  He winced. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the boy. How on earth was he going to be able to fix this? If he saw Ali, then he would have to see Sarah, too.

  “Mike, this doesn’t have to be difficult.” She kept her loving gaze on Ali, not on him. “How does Sunday work for you? You can pick Ali up after church services.”

  “Church?” He wasn’t going to be dragged to church again like Sarah had done the last few months before their breakup. He didn’t doubt the presence of God. He just doubted the relevance. And the truth is, he wasn’t a man to get all touchy-feely over something he couldn’t touch or see. He didn’t need it. “I’m not going to attend with you two.”

  She held up one hand as if to ward off his argument. Her voice as always was mild. “I said after the service. You two can go out to a nice lunch and have a great afternoon together.”

  Oh. He couldn’t object to that. He straightened his shoulders and stared hard at a hairline crack in the concrete. “It’s good of you to let me see him, Sarah.”

  “Please don’t feel that way. I know you are a tremendous part of Ali’s life, and you should be. He’s alive because of you. He’s here because of you. You saved him. Can’t you see how grateful I am to you?”