“So?”
“So, what?”
“I guess I’d like to know how far off base I am. I don’t see you inviting anyone else over for stuffed shells and bedtime stories, so I know there’s something here. But how big is it? Do we have a chance? Even with me leaving in January? I know that’s not what you prefer.”
Right. He was still leaving. Which meant what? Nothing. It didn’t mean anything, really, other than that they’d have to take things slow. Wasn’t that what she wanted anyway? “I just...long distance relationships are hard. And what if you end up loving it and decide to stay?”
Cyan laughed. “Never going to happen. I don’t like the city. I like it here. And I think you’re worth a little extra effort. I know it’s not going to be easy, but that doesn’t change wanting to make it work.”
Every word was exactly the right one. She closed her eyes and searched her heart, praying that God would make it obvious if this wasn’t what He wanted. When nothing immediate came to mind, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “You’re not off base. I want all those same things. Love. Marriage. More kids. With you.”
Cyan grinned and closed the distance between them. He pulled her onto his lap and buried his face against her neck.
Maria melted into his embrace.
It felt like home.
13
Cyan padded barefoot into the kitchen. He frowned when he found it empty. Seeing Maria in the kitchen had quickly become one of the highlights of his morning. Crossing to the coffee pot, he poured a mug, doctored it, and carried it with him as he peeked into the pantry and dining room. Where was she?
He headed to his grandparents’ office and tapped on the door frame. Wayne looked up from the computer and grinned.
“Morning. Sleep well?”
“I did. Have you seen Maria?”
Wayne shook his head. “I can fix you some breakfast if you’re hungry.”
“No. That’s not what I was angling for. I can grab a bowl of cereal. I—she didn’t say anything about being late today, did she?”
“It’s not like we punch a clock. I’m sure she’ll turn up when she’s finished whatever it is that’s holding her up.”
“You’re right.” Cyan sipped his coffee and pushed aside the rest of worry that threatened to crawl up his throat. “Maybe I’ll grab that cereal.”
“All right.” Wayne smiled and gave a half-hearted wave as he turned back to the computer.
Cyan wandered back to the kitchen and frowned again. He looked out the window above the sink at Maria’s cabin. Where was her car? He slipped his phone out of his pocket and tapped Maria’s contact. He drummed his fingers on the counter as it rang.
“Cyan, hi. What’s up?”
His eyebrows lifted. What was the beeping in the background. “I was wondering where you were. Your car is gone?”
Her breath crackled in his ear. “Yeah, sorry. I left a voicemail for Betsy. We’re at the hospital.”
His heart clutched. “Calvin? He’s okay?”
“He will be.”
It was like pulling teeth. “What happened?”
“I woke up around two because he was moaning. I couldn’t get him to respond, or wake up enough to even swallow juice to try and get his blood sugar back up. We’re not sure why it dropped like it did—he was fine when he went to bed. I must have calculated something wrong. The doctors have all said it happens, especially when the diagnosis is new.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come with you.”
“Didn’t you hear me say two a.m.? Besides, he’s not your son. He’s my responsibility.”
That was true. Unkind, perhaps, but still true. Did she not realize he loved Calvin? He couldn’t keep the ice from his voice. “Right. Of course.”
Maria sighed. “Look, I left a message for Betsy and asked her to let you know. I’m sorry she didn’t get to you.”
“How hard would it have been to just text me yourself?” The words were out before he could stop them.
“I didn’t want to risk you waking up. You didn’t need to come with us. There was no need to disturb you.”
He should quit while he was behind. Except... “Just last night we were talking about the future. Love. Marriage. More kids. In that scenario, were you figuring Calvin wouldn’t also be mine? Am I only supposed to care about hypothetical children we make together?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Isn’t it?” Cyan ended the call and tossed his phone on the counter. What possible future was there between them if he wasn’t allowed to consider Calvin his, too?
Betsy shuffled into the kitchen, offering a bright smile when she spotted him. “There you are. How’d you sleep?”
“Great. Fine.” Cyan took a deep breath. Betsy wasn’t to blame for any of this. He shouldn’t take it out her. “Sorry. You?”
She rubbed his arm as she passed him on her way to the coffee pot. “I gather you spoke with Maria?”
He nodded.
“Maria seemed pretty low key in the voicemail, Calvin okay?”
Cyan shrugged. “I guess. All she’d say, aside from how he’s not my responsibility, is that he’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that, Cyan. She’s stressed—give her some grace.” Betsy frowned as she filled her mug. “And remember that she’s been on her own for seven years.”
“So obviously she should spit in the eye of anyone who tries to help.”
“Oh, honey. That’s not what she was doing, I’m sure.”
Cyan snorted. He wasn’t convinced. Betsy might know Maria better—they’d known each other longer, certainly—but it wasn’t hard to interpret the situation. Not when Maria used clear, small words.
“Why don’t you go on down to the hospital and see them in person? I’m positive she’d welcome a visit, and you can clear this up.”
He shook his head. “I have work I need to do. Maybe later.”
Betsy sighed. “Don’t let it fester too long, okay?”
Cyan grabbed his phone and tucked it in his pocket. Better not to answer than to agree to something he wasn’t sure he could promise. Maybe his grandmother was right and he needed to cut Maria a little slack. On the flip side, it wouldn’t kill Maria to realize that a relationship meant two people. All the time.
* * *
Cyan clicked the radio button to get expedited shipping and submitted his order. He never had made the time to go into one of the bigger towns to shop. Maria had suggested a Sunday afternoon, and they’d tried, but life seemed to conspire against the trip. There was a lot of work that went on to make it possible to open things up for Christmas tree cutting, sleigh rides, and the campfires. So, online shopping it was. And since he still had five days before Christmas, everything should arrive with plenty of time.
He checked the time on the screen of his laptop. Close enough to a full day’s work. He’d barely been able to focus, anyway, wondering about Calvin. And his mom.
He could text her. But there was no guarantee Maria would respond. Or, if she did, he might end up getting the spiel about how Calvin wasn’t Cyan’s responsibility. Then he’d throw his phone across the room and it would probably break, and a replacement phone wasn’t really an inconvenience he wanted to deal with right now. That left heading into town, to the hospital, and working really hard not to show how mad he still was about the whole situation.
Cyan closed the lid of his computer and pushed back from the dining room table. If he wasn’t going to get any more work done, he might as well take that drive. If nothing else, he could see Calvin for himself. That would alleviate some worry.
Cyan shook his head as he stomped into his boots and bundled into his coat. They hadn’t had any fresh snow in over a week, but nothing was melting, either. It was definitely winter in the mountains. Why hadn’t he imagined New Mexico would have snow? Probably because the word Mexico drummed up visions of hot, sandy beaches and Aztec ruins, not snowy mesas. His brain never chang
ed that, even with the addition of the word “New” and several hundred miles north.
Before long, Cyan was outside Calvin’s hospital room door, his stomach twisted into knots. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“You can go on in.” The nurse he’d checked in with nodded toward the door. “He’s not sleeping.”
“Right. Thanks.” Cyan smiled and tapped on the door before heading in.
Maria glanced up, her finger marking the spot on the page of the book she’d been reading aloud. “Cyan.”
“Hi.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. Not the warmest greeting in the world, but what was he supposed to say? He looked over at Calvin. “Hey, champ. How’re you feeling?”
“I’m better. I want to go home.” His mouth slid into a pout. “Mom says I have to stay overnight.”
“I’m sure that’s what the doctors said, too.” Cyan moved to perch on the side of the bed.
“Nuh-uh. They said I could go this afternoon if everything stayed stable, but that if it made Mom feel better they’d keep me overnight.”
“Calvin.” Maria’s voice was tinged with exasperation. “You were really sick last night. I don’t want to risk a repeat.”
“How come I have to stay here just because you’re scared? It’s dumb.” Calvin crossed his arms. “And this book is dumb. Diabetes is dumb. You’re dumb.”
“Calvin.” Maria stood, setting the book aside before moving to his bed. “That’s no way to talk.”
Calvin shrugged and turned away from his mom.
Maria took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. Was she fighting tears? She had to be exhausted—mentally and physically.
“Maria? Why don’t you go downstairs and get a coffee? Take a little break. I can hang out with Calvin for a bit, so he won’t be alone.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I offered.” Was she so stubborn she couldn’t see a friendly offer when it was given?
“You don’t have to—”
“Just stop. I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t something I was happy to do, but maybe you’d rather I left?”
“No. Mr. Cyan, you just got here.” It was the closest to a whine he’d heard from Calvin since he’d known the boy. “Can’t you stay a little bit? You could read. Then at least the animals would have voices.”
Cyan winced and glanced at Maria.
Her shoulders fell. “Fine. I have my cell if you need me.”
“I’m so—”
“Don’t, okay?” Maria grabbed her purse and brushed past him on the way out the door.
“You need to give your mom a break, bud. This is hard on her.”
Calvin frowned. “She’s not the one stuck in the dumb hospital. I missed the Thanksgiving party and now I’m gonna miss the Christmas one, too, and I shouldn’t have to.”
“She’s stuck here, too, you know. ’Cause she loves you.”
“I guess.”
Cyan chuckled. “I know it. You’ve got a good mom, kiddo. She does everything for you all on her own. That’s not easy. She’s brave and strong and smart.”
Calvin sighed. “I just want to go home. The doctor told Mom some kind of pump would make it easier, but she said we can’t afford it. That’s du—”
“Dumb. Got it. We should work on some other adjectives. You’re smart like your mom. You should have a better vocabulary.”
“Mom says I can’t say stupid.”
Cyan smothered a smile. Maria probably wasn’t on board with dumb then, either. Calvin would most likely figure that out before long. “Want me to read?”
Calvin shrugged.
Taking it for assent, Cyan settled in the chair by the bed and found the place where Maria had been reading. They were nearly finished with the book. Did she already have the next in the series? As he began to read, he considered the problem of the pump. Insurance companies could take time—they were the embodiment of bureaucracy—but surely there was a way to get the device without dealing with insurance. Of course, it might mean Maria had to accept someone’s help. Was she capable of doing that?
* * *
“I brought you a coffee, too.” Maria glanced over at the bed and a tiny smile tugged at her lips. “He fell asleep.”
“I made it about half a chapter. After the long night you had, I’m not surprised.” Cyan reached for the coffee. “Thanks for this. Can I ask you something?”
Wariness crept over her features and she perched on the edge of Calvin’s bed. “Okay?”
“Why doesn’t he have an insulin pump?”
She shook her head. “Insurance. I’ve appealed their denial, but that takes time. So we’ll wait.”
“And if they don’t overturn the original decision?”
Maria shrugged. “I have to believe they will. God knows we need the thing. He’s going to get it for us.”
That was an opening. His heart raced. “What if I got it for you?”
“No. There’s no possible way. Do you have any idea how expensive they are?”
“You’ve mentioned it. I have money. I can’t think of anything I’d rather spend it on.” Cyan set the coffee aside and leaned forward. “Let me help you. Let me help him.”
“I don’t—I can’t—why would you offer that?” Maria shifted and laid her hand on Calvin’s foot.
Everything in him deflated. She didn’t understand at all. Their conversation the night before—marriage, a family—how could that happen if he wasn’t allowed to share what he had with her? Maybe it was early in their relationship. If he worked hard at it, he could almost see that possibility, but at what point would she let him in? Would it be before they were married? After? How long after? “Why wouldn’t I? I have the ability to help two people I care about. How is that wrong?”
“I didn’t say it was wrong. It’s just—he’s not your responsibility.”
“You keep saying that. What if I want him to be? Did you listen to me last night at all?” He reached out and touched her knee. “I care about you. I care about Calvin. Why does it matter if I help you now, before we’re married?”
“Married is down the road. Somewhere.” Maria’s voice ended in a squeak.
Cyan frowned. “I thought we agreed it was where we were headed.”
“Headed. That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is. I mean, I’m not going to sleep with you just because we’re headed toward marriage.”
“That’s not the same thing at all, and you know it.”
Maria jerked one shoulder in a grumpy shrug.
Cyan surged to his feet. He clenched his teeth together in an attempt to keep from shouting and waking up Calvin. “You realize you don’t have to do everything yourself, don’t you? There are people who want to help. People who love you. But you throw that back at them and spit in their faces. And Calvin’s the one who suffers.”
Maria paled. Her mouth opened.
Cyan held up a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t. Tell Calvin I hope to see him back home really soon.”
He stalked from the hospital room. She was never going to change. Never going to let anyone else in. And if that was the case, how could they have any sort of future together?
14
Maria and Calvin slipped into the back row at the Christmas Eve service.
Calvin tugged on the sleeve of Maria’s sweater. “Mr. Cyan is up there, with Mrs. Hewitt and Mr. Hewitt. Why can’t we sit up there?”
“There’s not room. We’re okay back here, right bud?” Her heart sank. She’d had a half-formed hope that the three of them would have chosen to attend a different service. Of course, they always attended this one, so there was no reason for them to have changed just because she was trying to avoid Cyan. It wasn’t wrong to have turned down his offer. It was a lot of money, and money like that always had strings attached to it, didn’t it? If the insurance ending up turning them down, again, she’d find a way to handle it on her own. One way or anoth
er. She could defer her school for a few semesters and turn the tuition into medical payments. There were options. Options that would let her handle her responsibilities on her own.
“It doesn’t look crowded, Mom. Please?”
“No, Calvin. We’re fine here. You’ll get to see them tomorrow at lunch.” Unless she could figure out some way to avoid it. That, of course, was impossible seeing as how she was in charge of making and serving all the food. She wouldn’t even have the benefit of a large party at the table. None of the ranch hands were coming. Tommy was out of town for a day or two visiting his daughter. His ex-wife seemed to be adept at keeping the child from coming to the ranch to visit and, instead, requiring Tommy to travel if he wanted to exercise his visitation. Morgan was spending the day with friends from church, and Joaquin had invited a few friends to something informal at his cabin. He was a good cook, when he took the time, so there’d be no hardship there. And so, she and Calvin would be stuck spending Christmas day with the Hewitts. With Cyan.
Calvin’s elbow dug into her side, dragging her out of her thoughts. Everyone was rising to their feet. Maria hastily shrugged out of her coat, draped it over the back of her seat, tucked her purse by her feet, and stood. She joined in singing What Child is This? and slipped her arm around Calvin’s shoulder. Tonight was about celebrating the birth of Jesus, not worrying about Cyan and his extravagant, outrageous offer. The one she could never hope to repay. The one she should, without a question, continue to refuse. The one she yearned for with all her heart.
Maria glanced down at Calvin and shook her head. The insurance would come through. It had to. Didn’t it? Something had to lift the cloud that hovered over her son, and had since Thanksgiving. They’d learn to live with diabetes. People did. But a pump would make it so much easier. And yet, accepting Cyan’s offer to pay for it stuck uncomfortably in her chest. How could she accept such a huge thing from him?
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