by Lisa Carter
He shifted the weight in his arms. “Maybe I should go with you and put this in the gazebo.”
She flexed her biceps. “Farm Girl has this under control.”
He regretted what family responsibilities had cost his youngest sister. As the oldest, he should’ve done something to make sure she didn’t have to give up her dreams, too. Never one to complain, Tessa had given up her plans to work on a Broadway production.
“I’ll miss you, Tess.” But for the first time, he acknowledged to himself that what he was giving up might be more than he’d gain.
Perennially bubbly, her mouth drooped. “Are you sure this job is what you really want?”
He dropped his gaze. “I’ve been working toward this goal ever since I returned home.”
“It’s okay for dreams to change, though. If that’s what you want.”
He placed the manger on the seat. “Who said my dream has changed?”
“Then what’s with the cradle?” She motioned toward the shop. “And if you’re leaving, do you think it’s wise to spend so much time with Anna?”
His little sister was giving him life advice? “I don’t expect you to understand, Tess. It’s just something I have to do. To be there for her as a friend.”
“But is friendship all you’re feeling for her?” Tessa folded her arms. “Are you being honest with yourself? I want you to be happy, Ryan.”
Ryan closed the door with a soft click. “I am happy, Tess. Ecstatic at the thought of a brand-new life.”
His brand-new, lonely life. He winced. Maybe he wasn’t as excited as he’d been a month ago.
She circled to the driver side. “I just don’t want you to deny yourself the possibility of more.”
He shuffled his feet. “Anna has made it clear that we’re friends. Nothing more. And I’m fine with that.”
“Are you sure?” Tessa looked at him across the car roof. “We love you, Ryan. You sacrificed so much to keep Dad’s dream alive. We just want to make sure you don’t lose yours.”
“I am sure.” His voice clogged. “And the family’s support means more than you could ever know.”
* * *
“I’m going to have to ask you—again—to hold still.” The words were as sharp as the pins in Tessa Savage’s mouth.
Startled, Anna glanced downward.
On her hands and knees in the fellowship hall of the church, Tessa secured the hemline with a couple of pins. She made a circling motion with her hand. Her arms at right angles, Anna did a half-turn rotation on the small dais.
A frown marred the usually untroubled serenity of Ryan’s youngest sister. Tessa had been about Oscar’s age when Anna left for college.
“I look that bad, huh?”
Tessa rose. “I’ve made the necessary adjustments so the loose-fitting style accommodates the wide load of your extra bulk.”
Anna blinked. Wide load? Bulk? That stung sharper than any of the steel pins stuck into the pincushion strapped to Tessa’s wrist.
“Is something wrong, Tess?”
Tessa smoothed a fold in the simple muslin shift. Reaching over, she draped the ends of the azure blue veil over Anna’s shoulders. “With your olive skin tone and eyes, you look like you could be the mother of Jesus.”
“Great. As long as I don’t have to do anything but sit. Speaking of sitting?” She took a wobbly step off the platform.
Tessa steadied her arm.
“What’s wrong?” Anna squeezed her hand. “If there’s anything—”
“Please don’t hurt my brother.” She clung to Anna. “He’s so confused right now.”
“What’re you talking about?” Anna placed her hand atop her belly. “Ryan is the one leaving me.”
Tessa’s eyes widened.
Anna’s heart pounded. “I mean...”
He wasn’t leaving her. That implied a relationship far more than friendship. Ryan was leaving many things—teaching, the kids, the farm, his friends and family. But he was most certainly, most definitely not leaving her. Right?
Tessa gripped her arm. “If that’s how you really feel, you should tell him.”
“It doesn’t matter what I feel.” Anna frowned. “I won’t be the one to stand between Ryan and his dream, Tess. It has to be his choice.”
Tessa’s eyes welled. “Please don’t tell Ryan I said anything. I’m just afraid he’s making a mistake in leaving.”
She took Tessa’s hand in hers. “He’s your brother. I’d do the same if I was afraid for Ben or Will.” She sank onto the cushioned stool. “But it’s complicated. Both of us have experienced loss.”
“Both of you are scared.” Tessa raised her chin. “But Ryan comes alive with those students, and since you’ve been home I’ve never seen him so happy.”
Anna took a shuddering breath. Tessa hit too close to a truth she wasn’t ready to examine. “The baby has to be my first priority. And Ryan has to decide what he wants for himself.”
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive home?” Tessa gnawed her lower lip. “I’m supposed to fit the shepherds next, but...”
“I’m fine.” She waved Tessa away. “Go ahead.”
After changing her clothes, Anna exited the church. Across the square, a customer emerged from the florist shop. Giving in to an urge she’d not been able to quell since meeting Kristina at the garden center, she crossed the street to admire the display window.
Kristina Collier had re-created the fishing hamlet of Kiptohanock in miniature. But unlike the real-time version of the coastal town, she’d daubed the buildings and square in fake snow.
Lights glowed through tiny stained glass windows at the church. And wee lanterns illuminated the green. Diminutive wreaths decked the doors of the model library, cafe and florist shop. Minuscule fire engines rested in the open bay of the station. Small Coast Guard and American flags hung outside the pint-size boat station.
Anna glanced up as the bell to the florist shop jingled. The door opened and closed behind Kristina with a whoosh. Kristina touched her fingertip to the window. “Beyond the edge of the square, if you use your imagination, you can almost see the Pruitt house.”
In the glass reflection, Anna’s gaze darted to the blonde florist.
She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “Wishful thinking or do you know something the forecasters don’t?”
Kristina wrapped the long ends of her taupe cardigan around herself. “If nothing else, one can dream.” Her smile was bright. “How’s motherhood treating you, Anna?”
“Dreams are a funny thing... Having the baby is more wonderful than I could ever imagine. Yet there are consequences I hadn’t envisioned when I embarked on this journey to carry Mateo’s baby.” Anna gulped. “Alone.”
“Is there something I can do for you, Anna? And I’m not talking about flowers.”
Anna bit her lip. “How long were you a widow before you found love again?”
Kristina’s eyes met hers in the mirrored reflection. “Or do you mean, how long before I allowed myself to love again?”
Anna sighed. “That, too.”
“Canyon says he loved me almost immediately. But I was consumed with keeping Pax’s memory alive. And single-parenting my son.”
Anna chewed on her bottom lip. Spending time with Ryan again after so many years, she’d never imagined the feelings he’d awaken inside her.
Kristina placed a gentle hand on her own butterball-size stomach. A primal gesture. “I’m guessing you can understand better than most how I felt, Anna. Lonely yet determined to protect my heart.”
Anna closed her eyes, shutting out the present. Replaying the final Christmas she shared with Mateo. And the next Christmas after his death when she discovered the IVF treatment had failed again.
She’d been so f
ocused on conceiving and then so grateful for her baby, she never envisioned anything more in her life.
“Military widows go through the fire, Anna. And no one comes through a fire unscathed.” Kristina’s voice quavered. “Only when I nearly lost Canyon to an actual forest fire did I realize life is for the living. For my child’s sake—but mostly for my own—I had to embrace the beautiful gift God was giving me in Canyon’s love.”
Anna shook her head. “I’m stuck between what was and what may never be.”
“I’ll always love Pax.” A faraway look entered Kristina’s eyes. “But I love Canyon, too. And if you truly want to embrace a new life, you have to let go of the past.”
Anna threw out her hands. “I don’t deserve a new life. It’s my fault Ruby will never know her father.”
Kristina touched Anna’s shoulder. “Why do you think it’s your fault?”
“It’s my fault Mateo never held a child in his arms.” Tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks. “We had so little time together. I told him we were perfect the way we were. I didn’t want to be a military mom.”
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Anna. It’s a tremendous responsibility, which isn’t right for every woman.”
Anna’s gaze skimmed over the green. “I told him we didn’t need anyone else.”
Kristina took Anna’s hand. “You didn’t know what was coming. You were following your instincts about what was right for you at the time.”
“What about what was right for Mateo?” Anna raised her tearstained face. “Every time he mentioned having a baby, I put him off.”
Kristina pressed her hand. “You need to forgive yourself, Anna. Give yourself a break.”
Anna swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought we had plenty of time.”
“I don’t believe he’d want you to spend the rest of your life alone. He’d want you and the baby to have the fullest life possible. To savor every gift the Lord has for you.”
“But I don’t deserve a second chance, not after I caused Mateo to lose his.”
“Don’t make this child your penance, Anna. Choosing aloneness for the wrong reason only dishonors who he was and what you were to each other.”
She pinched her lips together. “I hadn’t considered it that way before.”
“Do you believe in God, Anna?”
Her eyes flicked to Kristina. “Yes, I do.”
“Then believe He’s always been in control. That He is in control now. No matter our mistakes—what we did or didn’t do—He can make everything work for good.”
Did she believe God was in control when Mateo died? Or during the pain of infertility? Was He working things out for her even now?
Certainty gripped Anna. He’d brought her home to Kiptohanock, hadn’t He? She scanned the village. Places familiar and dear to her.
Although she didn’t understand the whys of her life, she recognized God had everything under control. And somehow—she didn’t know the how yet—God would work everything for her and Ruby’s ultimate good.
“It’s k-kind of a lot to take in.” Anna’s voice wobbled.
Kristina hugged her. “God is like that. Bigger than we can imagine. Far more than we can comprehend.” She stepped back. “But His ways are always for His children.”
A woman headed toward the florist shop.
“Looks like you have another customer.” Anna breathed deeply of the briny, seaside air. “Thanks for everything.”
Kristina smiled. “See you at the cookie swap next weekend?”
“Do I look like I need cookies?” She patted her abdomen. “But I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
As for Ryan? How did her changing feelings for him fit into what God was doing? Or was she on the brink of another mistake? Was their relationship a disaster in the making?
Chapter Eleven
Between baby-stuff expeditions and working on the cradle, thoughts of Zander dogged Ryan’s thoughts all weekend. It was late on Sunday when Ryan had the brilliant idea to contact Zander’s bus driver, who had to know where he picked up and dropped off the child every day.
In a place like the Shore where everybody knew somebody who knew everybody else, he finally managed to get the bus driver’s number. And learned that Zander lived in public housing. A drug-infested, crime-ridden neighborhood the tourists never saw. A pocket of rural poverty and multigenerational despair.
Many of the residents, like Zander’s family, had once been migrant workers at one of the large agribusinesses. And at some point, found year-round work on the Shore.
“The grandma used to wait at the bus stop for him,” Bennie Hollingsworth said over the phone. “She’s a Haitian lady. But I don’t see her anymore. And if anybody’s there at all to meet him, it’s the uncle.” Bennie’s voice altered. “That guy’s kind of scary.”
Ryan’s gut knotted.
“Poor kid. Not much chance of a better future.” Bennie sighed. “I heard his mom is serving time for drug possession with intent to sell.”
His spirits sank further.
“Mr. Savage? If you don’t mind me saying so, I don’t think it would be a good idea to pay the Benoits a visit tonight. It’s already dark, and you’re an outsider. Even in daylight, don’t go without law enforcement.”
So first thing Monday morning, Ryan waited at the bus lane at school, anxious to touch base with Zander. To find out why he didn’t show on Friday. But most of all, to make sure the little guy was okay.
And if Zander didn’t make it to school, Ryan had a substitute on standby so he could go look for him. But to Ryan’s immense relief, the child in his ragged jacket stepped off the bus. “Zander, my man.”
The little boy’s head snapped up. But the scowl etched on his forehead eased a fraction at the sight of Ryan waiting for him.
“We missed you at the tree lighting.” Ryan looked him over. “Did something come up?”
His heart sank at the flash of belligerence in Zander’s eyes. “I ain’t got time for baby stuff like that. I had to take care of my grandma.” His chin wobbled momentarily before resuming its rock hard appearance. “My uncle needed my help.”
“It wasn’t the same without you.”
Zander snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I mean it.”
“People say a lot of things.” Zander’s lip curled. “Save it for somebody who needs that baby stuff. Can I go now?”
Ryan moved aside as the third grader stomped inside the building. He had a bad feeling about the boy. The child was like a time bomb waiting to blow. All that was needed was the match. Maybe only a spark. And then kaboom.
He shook his head as he headed toward his fifth-grade classroom. Ryan had foolishly believed he and Zander had reached an understanding. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this mentoring thing.
Zander’s problems were beyond the scope of his ability to solve. Someone else would have to take up where Ryan left off. Someone smarter and more savvy.
The morning flew by for Ryan. And then it was time for his favorite portion of the day—science.
He pointed to the word he’d written on the whiteboard. “A mixture is a combo of two or more substances that do not lose their characteristics when combined.”
At the sound of restless bodies, he faced the class. “Can anyone think of an example of a mixture in real life?”
He could have heard a pin drop in the sudden, profound silence. There were surreptitious glances at the wall clock. Only a few minutes remained until lunch. A kid’s stomach growled.
“Anyone?”
He could think of a perfect example from real life. His life. Teachers had to be a unique mixture—one part entertainer, one part counselor and one part air traffic controller.
A glazed look had overt
aken the features of his students. Flashing like a neon sign—starvation imminent. They were fading fast. He’d better do something quick or lose their attention for good.
“No one can name even one example of a mixture?” Pretending disappointment, he propped his hands on his hips. “Well, if no one knows the answer, then don’t plan on leaving the classroom for lunch.”
There were round-eyed stares and gasps of horror. But now for the surprise.
“Okay, write this down. Here’s an example of a mixture from everyday life.” Walking across the classroom, he yanked open the door and took the three pizza boxes out of the arms of the delivery boy. “Pizza anyone?”
The room went slightly wild.
“Is that for us, Mr. Savage?”
“What kind is it, Mr. Savage?”
He smiled. “Yes. Yes. And pepperoni.” He turned to the delivery boy. “What do I owe you?”
“You’re set, Mr. Savage.” The delivery guy patted his uniform shirt. “I got the money from the secretary at the front office.”
He waited until everyone was about to bring a slice to their mouths when—
“But wait!” He smacked his hand to his forehead. “What was I thinking? We can’t eat pizza.”
Someone groaned.
“We can’t eat pizza without something to drink, too.” He cocked his head. “Does anyone have a solution?”
Quick grins. By now, the kids were beginning to catch on to his game. They studied solutions yesterday.
The Evans kid raised his hand. “What we need, Mr. Savage, is something liquid. Where a solute has dissolved into another substance called the solvent.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Which together become a solution.”
Ryan fingered his chin. “Anybody have an example of this solution thingy Evans mentioned?”
“Please...” Max Scott slumped in his chair. “Somebody? Anybody? The pizza’s getting cold.”
Everyone laughed. Izzie Clark raised her hand. “Like lemonade, Mr. Savage?”
He pretended to consider her suggestion. “That might work. Or would this do?” He whipped out a pitcher of cherry Kool-Aid from the supply closet. There were cheers.
