into a serving bowl. She wanted to be over him. She prayed to be over him. So why wasn’t she?
She dropped a spoon into the bowl and carried it to the table. Maybe the reason why wasn’t such a mystery. Outside in the thinning daylight Ali kicked the ball to Mike, who gave a gentle return kick, sending Ali running and laughing. The faint sound of it warmed the air with joy.
It was like something out of her lost dreams to see Mike playing with a little boy in this backyard. How many times had she pictured that over the years she had been waiting for him to commit? She set the bowl on the table, filled with remorse. She had meant to push him closer to her, when all she did was push him away. She had let go of her dreams when she watched him board the transport plane that had carried him off to war.
Now, those dreams taunted her once again with what she could never have.
Don’t think about it, she told herself as she crossed to the French door. Ali had kicked the ball again and Mike pretended to miss, making the little boy clap his hands and laugh with glee. Her feet came to a stop and she stood there watching the man with her broken heart on her sleeve. Mike would be a great dad one day. She had always known that. His concern for children was one of the first things she had loved about him.
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
