Homefront Holiday. Jillian Hart

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      Daisies. Sarah tossed the paper they had come in into the kitchen garbage can. Mike was thoughtful; she had to give him that. She never thought she would be looking over the counter to see him standing in her living room, a pure soldier out of place against her chintz and gingham decor. How could she ever have thought she could get over that man?

      Because telling herself she could had gotten her through life without him.

      “Dr. Mike, I can kick good.”

      “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.” Mike ruffled Ali’s hair. “If it’s all right with Sarah, why don’t you take me out in the backyard and show me?”

      “Can I, Sarah?”

      She looked into the pleading, delighted eyes of her foster son and couldn’t say no. “You’ve got time before dinner is on the—”

      Sneakers beat against the hardwood floors and the French door in the living room was wrenched open.

      “—table,” she finished.

      “It’s good to see him so active.” Mike took a more leisurely pace, his presence filling the small room. “The first time I saw him in triage, hurting and little and scared—” He fell silent, keeping his emotions to himself.

      Sarah’s knees weakened at the picture that created in her mind—a picture she squeezed out as soon as it lodged there. It was too much to imagine Ali like that. What she could see was Mike watching over the boy, one hundred percent committed to saving him. Maybe that was the message God had been trying to get into her head.

      She set the vase on the counter. “It must be rewarding for you to see him happy and playing.”

      “He’s more than that. He’s thriving, Sarah. After all he’s been through—” Mike swallowed hard and looked away, clearly emotional.

      Or as emotional as she had ever seen him. “You had a hand in his recovery.”

      “I didn’t do much.”

      “You performed the emergency surgery that patched him up and got him here. Dr. Blake told me what a fine job you did.” So many emotions were swirling around inside her that she couldn’t begin to separate them. She stepped around the edge of the counter, wanting to be closer to him. “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but I’m adopting Ali. I’ve fallen in love with him. I couldn’t help it.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw as if he was unhappy about something, and when he spoke his baritone was strained and raw. “You’re adopting him?”

      “I filed the papers last week.”

      “Last week?”

      “You look surprised. I’m sorry if you don’t approve, Mike—”

      “No, it’s not that.” He couldn’t seem to make his thoughts move past her words. His usually clear, crisp, problem-solving mind had broken down. He shook his head, but it didn’t help.

      “I just love him so much.” Sarah, so sweet and bright and beautiful, turned on the water at the sink. She pumped soap into her small, slender hands. The fall of the overhead light seemed to spotlight her, drawing his gaze and his heart, forcing him to remember how dear to him she had always been.

      His ripped-out heart hurt beyond bearing. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have to look at her like this, being tied up in knots. He didn’t love her, not anymore. But it surprised him that his memories of her were still alive and dear. Memories of the quiet evenings they had spent together in this kitchen fixing meals, laughing over nothing, their conversations easy.

      Maybe what hurt was that she had never loved him enough, the way he had always loved her. Her affection for the boy was plain to see. It transformed her. She was glowing.

      He yanked open the French door and the agony hit. Ali was not going to be his. Bleakness battered him like a desert windstorm. He tried to tell himself that СКАЧАТЬ