Homefront Holiday

by Jillian Hart

  Worry about it later, Sarah. She tapped out a quick message. I hope you are ok, and hit Send. The kids were tugging Whitney and John over to the desks. It was time to bring out the cupcakes.

  It had been another tough day and coming home just made things tougher. He closed the refrigerator door and there was the kid’s picture. Maybe it was his sleep deprivation, but those memories had faded as if years instead of months had passed.

  That didn’t mean he didn’t love the little fella. Mike popped the top of the can and took a long swig of iced tea. He let the cool tartness sweep down his throat, cooling him from the inside out. He turned his back on the picture, wishing he could find himself, wishing he knew what to do.

  You’re tired is all, he told himself. His defenses weren’t as strong.

  So why did he keep remembering kissing Sarah? He could try to convince himself it didn’t mean anything, that it was only because of the mistletoe and the café owner’s urging. But it was more than that. He had wanted to kiss her. He wanted to remember loving her.

  Nothing. He felt nothing at all. He wasn’t himself. He didn’t know who that was anymore. All he knew was that there was nothing left. Of him. Of his memories of her. Of their love. He felt like a man drowning, going down for the third time, praying to God he could miraculously swim.

  He took another pull of tea and reached for his phone. Her message was there, caring as always. That was Sarah. He didn’t deserve her. Not by a long shot.

  I’m coming over after Ali is in bed. Meet me outside. He hit the Send button. He tried to picture Sarah in her cozy kitchen, probably doing dishes this time of night, with Ali chatting away and that cat of hers snoozing on the couch. Then would come TV time and story time. The Christmas lights would be flashing and there would be a mound of presents under the tree.

  He had already done his Christmas shopping. It hadn’t been hard. He had no family, not anymore. Ali’s gifts were in a sack in the bedroom closet, along with a little something for Sarah. He knew she would love it. And there was one more thing he couldn’t forget to give her. The photo album he had made for Ali.

  It had taken all his spare time when he had been overseas to track down the photographs of Ali’s family members who had died. Mike felt nothing remembering the often dangerous trips with a few of his special forces buddies along for protection from insurgents to visit friends of Ali’s mother. He felt nothing now at how kind the villagers had been, offering up sometimes their few remembrances for the little boy.

  Mike’s hand shook as he stared at the Message Sent screen. He was doing the right thing in making a clean break. He would apologize to her, give her the gifts and the album and stand strong on his own two feet. That’s what he had to do. He didn’t feel anything.

  He wished that he could.

  The anxiety gripping her stomach worsened when she saw Mike’s shadow cross her lawn. She had been waiting for his truck to turn into her driveway. All evening long she had been unsettled not knowing. Was he regretting getting closer to her? Or did it have something to do with his own post-traumatic stress?

  She clutched her coat around her and closed the door behind her. As Mike came closer, the glow of the Christmas twinklers flashed over him as if drawing him into the light, but he stood shadowed, as if in darkness. He looked grim.

  Her knees went weak. She sank heavily to the top step. Had she let her hopes get too high? Had her only chance for happiness with him passed her by?

  Bags rustled as he came closer. Shopping bags full of wrapped gifts. He towered over her, a stone pillar of darkness.

  She longed for the buttery rich sound of his voice. She ached for the gentle lilt of his laughter.

  He set the bags on the step in front of her. He seemed as if he were standing a thousand miles away from her. When he spoke, his voice sounded hollow. “Thought I would bring these over while I could. They have me working tomorrow and the next day. since I don’t have any family.”

  He was working both holiday days? That didn’t sound right. He had volunteered to work those days, that was her guess. Which meant he didn’t want to be available to her and Ali. He didn’t want to be with them. No—correct that—he didn’t want to be with her.

  He didn’t love her.

  Don’t let him know how much that hurts, Sarah. She straightened her shoulders, struggling to sound as if she wasn’t devastated. “I guess this means you won’t be spending any part of Christmas with us.”

  “No, Sarah.” Gentle those words.

  It didn’t lessen the pain. The first crack to her heart was like a hammer strike, and the second like a mallet. How could she let him go? Everything had been going so well. It was the kiss. It was too soon. She should have known Mike would pull away in response, but this? This wasn’t withdrawing a step, it was retreating from the field.

  “I was kind of hoping that we could—” She couldn’t finish. Her eyes burned. Her throat ached.

  “Me, too.” He clenched his fists. It was his only movement. He stood straight and strong, unmovable. “I had hoped, but I was wrong.”

  The third crack to her heart was like a jackhammer. She loved this man, truly loved him, even when he was tearing her heart out. “I thought we were getting along really well.”

  “We were. I just can’t do this. Not when we know how it will end.”

  Agony rolled over her like a riptide. “I wouldn’t have made you choose this time.”

  “Sarah, that’s not it. Please, I don’t want you to cry.”

  “I’m not.” She lifted her chin, blinking fast. Really, she wasn’t crying. Her world was coming apart, but she wasn’t going to break down. “How am I going to say goodbye to you? All the time that you were away, I kept hoping that we could try again. I wanted a second chance with you.”

  He hung his head, as if he didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t move, stoic and distant and in perfect self-control. “I’ll always want the best for you, Sarah.”

  Goodbye. He was about to say it when she wanted to hold him close. When she needed his comfort and the shelter of his arms. Only his love could make this pain stop. “I’ll always keep you in my prayers, Mike. Always.”

  As if she could ever stop hoping, ever stop loving this man who was her very own knight in shining armor. A heroic man who spent his life trying to save others. Who went beyond the call of duty. To whom courage and sacrifice was a daily act. She would always love him with a devotion that grew deeper by the hour, whether they were together or apart.

  “Sarah, you’re crying.” He came to her side. Tenderly he cradled her face in his hands and brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, unwanted and un-stoppable. She would give anything to have the privilege of being with him. She thought of the future she’d began to dream of again gone—a small, storybook wedding, making supper with Mike when he was able to be home and instant messaging him when he wasn’t. More children one day, both adopted and their own. They would build a life together, a family and a love so strong that it would make the world a better place.

  Those dreams were gone now, vanished in the chilly air.

  “It’s not your fault, Sarah. It’s mine.” He looked lost in the shadows, a part of the darkness. His voice was layered with pain and defeat and self-anger.

  She could feel his despair, worse than her own. “What do you mean? You are not completely at fault, Mike.”

  “I made the choice to walk away from you.” His throat worked. “I regret how I treated you.”

  That made two of them. The final crack to her heart. It was over, and still she was looking for a way to hold on to hope. To hold on to Mike.

  “You were right.” He pulled away, leaving her tears to fall. “I was wrong. I did keep you at a distance. I blamed you for not loving me enough, when that’s what I was doing. I was never going to let you get close to me. I’m just not made that way, Sarah. I’ll never be what you need.”

  “Mike, we’ve both
made mistakes.” She sat still, watching him with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t go. I don’t want this to be over.”

  “It is.” He had failed her. The one woman he loved more than he thought was possible. He would lay down his life for her in a second. He would move mountains for her. He would leave her now, because he was only going to cause her more pain. That was one thing his heart couldn’t take more of.

  His pager vibrated. His soldier in I.C.U. again. He didn’t need to look to know that it was work. It was just the excuse he needed to find the courage to walk away from the best woman he had ever known.

  “Goodbye, Sarah.” He pushed to his feet. He had thought he could feel nothing anymore. He had thought there was nothing left within him.

  But he’d been wrong. As he walked away from her, grief flattened him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sarah couldn’t move. She didn’t know if it was shock that kept her on the top step or sorrow. She was too numb to feel anything. Mortal wounds were like that, or so she had heard—too severe to deal with at first. But slowly the pain set in, dull and growing sharper until it was unbearable.

  The cold wind gusted, blowing straight through her. The blink, blink of the lights were a rhythmic reminder of each passing second, one just like the rest, as the tail-lights of Mike’s truck grew smaller down the street. He turned the corner and vanished, leaving behind the cheerful holiday displays of lights on the other houses.

  The image of him standing before her and the flat note of his voice haunted her. She rubbed her eyes and realized she was crying. Not for herself, but for him.

  His confession rattled around in her mind. I blamed you for not loving me enough, when that’s what I was doing. I was never going to let you get close to me.

  That wasn’t right. It wasn’t what he said, so much as the way he’d said it. It was as if a cloud of deep despair clung to him like the night shadows. He spoke as if he had no heart left. As if he were a drowning man going down for the third time and no help in sight.

  She swiped at her wet cheeks. The door behind her squeaked open a few inches. She had left it ajar and she smiled at Clarence who paced toward her, offering a meow of concern.

  “Come here, handsome.” She lifted him into her arms, savoring his silky softness and purring comfort. She climbed to her feet and carried him back into the house.

  She lingered on the doorstep and took one long last look down the street, quiet and still this time of night, remembering the ghost of the man who had knelt before her, apologizing and brushing at her wet cheeks.

  A month after Ali left we found ourselves under attack. She remembered standing in Mike’s kitchen making spaghetti sauce and how he had gone stone cold when he mentioned the skirmish. His look of utter failure when he talked about the Army Ranger he had lost on his table.

  Mike was a strong man, one of the mightiest she knew but maybe this kind of stress wasn’t something even the strongest soldier ought to handle on his own. No man was an island; it wasn’t a matter of strength. It was the way God had made us to love and need one another.

  She felt devastated all over again. Mike was hurting, and he was suffering alone. Her heartbreak seemed small by comparison.

  Clarence jumped out of her arms and onto his favored spot on the back of the couch. He curled up and watched her with slitted eyes as she went back outside to fetch the gift bags. Mike. He had gone to a lot of trouble shopping and wrapping Ali’s gifts early instead of his usual last minute. That said everything right there. He loved the little boy more than he wanted to admit.

  She locked the door against the cold and night. Why had he given up trying to adopt Ali? He had said at the time that he had the army. If he believed that, he never would have wanted to adopt a child in the first place. No, this was about something larger, she realized, something that Mike had kept to himself, as he did most things.

  She set the bags down by the tree and began to unload them. Wouldn’t Ali be surprised in the morning? That would be a great way to start Christmas Eve day, since the boy would miss seeing his hero over the holidays.

  She carefully set one present after another beneath the cheerful tree. She had been overwhelmed with her own disappointment, shattered dreams for true love could do that to a girl, and then worried over Mike, she hadn’t gotten to the real issue. Ali was going to be devastated.

  How did this turn into such a big mess, Lord? How am I going to save this little boy from more loss? Maybe I should have protected him more, but that would have meant not seeing Mike. They need each other.

  I need them, too. That was the truth, straight from her soul. Her life was better with Mike and Ali in it. Brighter. More meaningful. Beyond that, they were her purpose. She was meant to love them.

  Show me what to do, Lord. I can’t see it through all my heartbreak. Please, Father, send me a sign. Something. I am lost here.

  She felt no answer but when she ended her prayer and opened her eyes she felt stronger, as if she were no longer alone. She pulled the last gift out of the bottom of the first bag. It was small, not tiny, but just the right size for a boxed ornament. She smiled. Mike used to get her one of her favorite porcelain collectable ornaments every year to hang on her tree. Maybe he had found a little soldier ornament for Ali.

  She set the gift on the pile beneath the tree, and the purple glow of a single lightbulb reflected off the red ribbon, catching her attention. The tag had her name on it. It was a gift for her.

  Sarah, I thought this would be a reminder of your first Christmas with Ali, Mike had written.

  She opened it without thinking, trembling and breathless. She hadn’t expected this. Once the paper was off, she pried the lid up. The truth hit her when she saw the dear figurine of a dark-haired little boy holding a string of Christmas lights.

  The hour was late and the hospital chapel was the closest thing to peace he could find. Not that he wanted to admit it. Mike rested his forehead in his hands, so sick at heart he didn’t know how to cope anymore.

  Footsteps warned him of someone approaching. He straightened up on the bench and tried to pull it together. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see him like this.

  “Mike.” Franklin Fields padded into the chapel. “I came by to see your young soldier and his wife. Congratulations. He’s out of I.C.U.”

  Mike forced a smile. He respected Franklin. “Zach got lucky. He was able to pull through.”

  “It wasn’t luck, Mike.” Franklin took the end of the bench. “You’re a talented surgeon. According to those in the know, one of the best they’ve seen.”

  “It’s not me.” He hated the helplessness of it. The failure of watching one patient die and another live under the same circumstances, with the same prognosis. Of helping one to fight to live while another less wounded died. He hung his head. “I wish it was me, but it isn’t.”

  “Let me guess. You got into medicine because you wanted to help save people. Because you value life.”

  He nodded. “Plus there was the benefit of long hours and army pay.”

  That lightened the mood, but not much. Franklin’s smile was brief. “It’s God working through you, Mike. The way He works good through everyone, even those who think relying on Him is a weakness.”

  “I don’t want to be converted, Franklin. No offense.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying, Mike.” The pastor had a quiet authority that was hard not to respect. “You are here for a reason, and it isn’t because you wanted a quiet room. There are plenty of places here that are quiet this time of night. And I can’t convert you. The answers are for you to find. I can only sit with you while you do.”

  “Then you’re wasting your time, reverend.”

  “It’s my time to waste.” Franklin shrugged. “Anything else you want to talk about? I know you had a tough deployment.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve counseled other soldiers you served with, for one. But all I need to do is look at you. You lo
ok troubled, son, as if you have a world of burden on your soul.”

  “Some days it feels that way.” Mike wished—he even prayed—that he could feel something, anything, that would bring him back to life.

  “Christ sacrificed His life so that others could live. He lived His life in service to others.”

  “Thanks, but I can do this my way. Standing on my own two feet. No offense, Franklin.”

  “None taken. I know how it is. It’s tough to open up. It’s the way you learn to cope keeping your wounds to yourself. I used to feel it was weak to open up. Then I realized it was wrong to shy away from living life. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith in God and in love.”

  Sarah. Mike squeezed his eyes shut but still the image came to him of her sitting on her front steps, gilded with the jeweled shine of the Christmas decorations with tears on her cheeks. He had hurt her, but how could he be with her? He was dying inside. He couldn’t expose her to that.

  “Are you all right?” Franklin asked.

  He managed a single nod and opened his eyes. Candles sputtered on the altar, and that’s how he was inside.

  “You are one of the strongest men I know, Mike. Take some advice. Sometimes God hands you a lifeline. You’ve got to be strong enough to take it.”

  “Sarah.”

  “Yes.” Franklin pushed his card across the bench and stood. “And that little boy who needs you. Maybe it is His way of letting you know you aren’t alone. When you are lost, don’t despair. That’s when you find what matters most.”

  Mike pressed his hands to his face, praying he had enough strength left.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bleary-eyed, Mike drove toward home. Dawn was coming, although it was hard to tell because of the clouds. It had been a long night, but at least he knew what he had to do. He had fallen asleep in the night room. He had just enough time to shower, change, grab a bite and head back. With any luck, he would have enough time to stop by Sarah’s house on the way into work. He had a lot to say to her, things that could not be said over the phone.