His footsteps echoing, Ryan Savage walked the first grader from the cafeteria toward the media center. The dismissal bell had released the rest of the students to buses and to car pool thirty minutes ago.
Oscar’s hand slipped into Ryan’s. “Mister Sabbage?” The child barely spoke above a whisper.
Biting back a smile, Ryan paused in the school corridor. “What is it, Oscar? Are you still hungry?”
Eligible students enrolled in the after-school tutoring program received a healthy snack. For some of them, it was the only food they’d receive until returning to school the next morning for a nutritious breakfast.
Small for his age, the little boy shook his head. “I jus’ wonnered if the new teacher in our group was as nice as Miz Thompson. I’m gonna miss her.”
There was something endearing about the child, which tugged at Ryan’s heart. “Perhaps Mrs. Thompson will return to school after she has her baby. But I think you’ll like the teacher who is taking her place.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Reyes is an old friend of mine.” Ryan smiled. “In fact, we became best friends when we were in first grade like you.”
This was Anna’s first day of teaching at the small elementary school outside Kiptohanock, Virginia, where they’d grown up. He was looking forward to seeing her again, but an unexpected nervousness opened in the pit of his stomach. Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t the gangly teenager who once had feelings for Anna Pruitt.
Oscar’s eyes widened. “You were in first grade like me?”
Ryan rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Hard to believe, I know. But true.”
Oscar shook his head as if he wasn’t quite sure he should believe Ryan. “Is she pwetty?”
Ryan pushed his glasses farther along the bridge of his nose. “I think so. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”
Oscar nodded. “We better go see.”
Anna was probably already inside the media center waiting with the other two students who would make up their group in the after-school enrichment program.
Pressing through the doors, Ryan steered Oscar past other clumps of students and supervising adults. The intervention teams were composed of teachers, professional counselors and trained community volunteers.
Due to a poor attendance record, Oscar was falling behind his classmates. His classroom teacher also reported that when Oscar managed to get to school, he often fell asleep. A six-year-old shouldn’t be so tired. Ryan needed to make a home visit to talk with Oscar’s mother.
Weaving past the computer lab and waist-high bookcases, Ryan waved to other kids he’d come to know during his short career as a fifth-grade teacher. Students entered the program due to behavioral issues and low academic performance in math or language. The goal was to help kids rise above difficult home circumstances and acquire the academic and lifestyle skills to achieve success far beyond their current situations.
Sighting Anna’s dark hair at one of the tables, he herded Oscar forward. But the knot of apprehension in Ryan’s gut tightened.
Until they went off-Shore to college and lost touch, they’d been best friends. While he’d pursued a research career, she eventually married someone else. A marine.
Now as a young military widow, Anna had just returned home. Hired by the school board to finish the term for a kindergarten teacher on maternity leave till after Christmas. And only this week, Principal Carden asked Ryan to head an additional support team for three newly identified at-risk kids.
On this late November afternoon, the light spilled milky sunshine through the blinds on the window and across the table where Anna and a little girl hunkered over a picture book.
Ryan stopped short, his hand on Oscar’s shoulder. His heart was in his throat—which as a scientist he knew to be an anatomical impossibility and yet at this moment it was proven true.
Anna’s long hair lay gathered across one shoulder, secured by a clip. Beneath the quilted, white vest, she wore a red-and-black-striped flannel plaid shirt. Red—like Christmas, he remembered—was her favorite.
Her finger skimmed underneath the line of words on the printed page. Her voice as soft and melodious as ever, as she occasionally prompted the little girl reading aloud.
But he couldn’t catch a glimpse of Anna’s dark brown eyes. His pulse ratcheted. When she glanced up, would she be pleased or indifferent to see him?
Oscar surged toward the cluster of chairs around the table. And when her eyes fastened onto Ryan, Anna gave a soft gasp.
Ryan held himself motionless. “Hello, Anna.”
The corners of her mouth curved. And a light appeared in those melted chocolate eyes of hers. Warming at the sight of him. “Ryan.”
Oscar’s blue eyes darted from Ryan to Anna. “I thought his name was Mister Sabbage.”
She laughed. Like the sound of tinkling wind chimes on a gentle ocean breeze.
“It is Mr. Savage, Oscar.” He ruffled the hair on top of the little boy’s head, and Oscar smiled. A cautious smile. As if unused to affection. Or trust. Ryan could relate.
Oscar plopped into a chair. “You’re right, Mister Sabbage. She is very pwetty.”
She blushed.
“Thank you, Oscar.” She extended her hand across the table. “I’m Mrs. Reyes. And I am so happy to meet you. I hope we’ll have fun together after school.”
Oscar gave her fingers a quick squeeze. Then laying his head on the table, he closed his eyes.
Ryan pulled out a chair across from Anna. He recognized the little girl, Maria Guzman. Overweight compared to her second-grade peers, she could speak and understand English according to her file, but her reading ability was below grade level.
Sixty-something Agnes Parks headed their way with the third student in tow, Zander Benoit. Mrs. Parks was the wife of Ryan’s pastor. Their daughter, Darcy, had once been Anna’s best girl friend in high school.
Throwing himself into one of the empty seats, third grader Zander held himself taut. But his black eyes never stopped moving, assessing the other children, the room and Ryan, too. He wasn’t sure why, but Zander reminded Ryan of his brother, Ethan, who’d just returned home from the army.
When the child’s gaze landed on the red Exit sign, Ryan understood the connection between his combat veteran brother and the third grader. Zander was formulating an exit strategy. Calculating the distance between the table and the door. The way Ryan was planning his own exit strategy after Christmas.
“What’s with the candy canes, man?”
Ryan’s attention snapped to Zander. A diversionary tactic? As if he sensed Ryan getting too close. Zander deserved a home visit, too.
Oscar’s eyes opened, and he lifted his head. Maria glanced around the media center walls, decorated with candy cane cutouts. The week after Thanksgiving, a few industrious colleagues had begun the holiday countdown to winter break.
Zander jutted his jaw. “Do we get candy after this boring school thing is done?” Behavioral issues had landed Zander in the program.
Ryan leaned back in his chair. “No candy. But—” he made sure he had everyone’s attention “—if each of you complete your weekly goals, we have a big reward planned for the group before winter break.”
Oscar’s face lit. “We get Chwistmas?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Zander responded before Ryan could. “Christmas isn’t real.”
Oscar’s face fell.
Maria stuck out her chin. “Estupido is a bad word. Isn’t it, Mrs. Reyes?”
Anna laid her palms on the tabletop. “We don’t say stupid, Zander.”
“Whatever.” Zander thrust out his chest. “But Christmas is for babies.”
Ryan shook his head. “That’s not true, Zander. Christmas is for everyone.”
He threw Anna an apologetic look. They hadn’t had time to confer. “Mrs. Parks and I were thinking about a field trip next week to the tree lighting in the Kiptohanock town square.”
Agnes Parks smiled. “With milkshakes and dinner beforehand. On us.”
“Milkshakes?” Zander’s dark eyes took on a gleam of interest.
Agnes nudged a math workbook toward him. “And the countdown to everyone reaching their goals begins right now.”
Ryan had his own private countdown. After Christmas, he was returning to the pharmaceutical position he’d abandoned to come home and help his family when his father died.
Yet surprisingly, Ryan had enjoyed the last three years as a fifth-grade teacher. A job far different from the technical work for which he’d trained. And even more of a surprise, he’d relished the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of at-risk kids like Maria, Oscar and Zander. Although with a tough kid like Zander, how much a difference he made remained to be seen.
Zander’s eyes slitted. “You mean them two—” his index finger jabbed the air “—got to meet their goals for me to get a chocolate milkshake?”
Mrs. Parks—whose team specialty included character building and cooperative learning—rested her slightly plump chin in her hand. “Exactly what we discussed earlier, Zander. We’re here to help each other succeed.”
Necessary in most endeavors, academic or otherwise. Crucial in life—as Ryan discovered when he and his siblings rallied to save the family business.
Mrs. Parks patted Zander’s hand. “Zander is fabulous on the computer. He has a lot he can teach us.”
Zander muttered under his breath. “How fun.”
Ignoring him, Anna laid the picture book on the table. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Ryan’s pulse accelerated. And although he understood she was speaking to the children, her smile was for him.
* * *
Anna Pruitt Reyes inhaled the familiar and comforting scents of the elementary school media center. The musty smell of books. The faint leftover aroma of coffee from the teachers’ lounge.
It felt good to teach again. And after fourteen years, good to be home on the Eastern Shore, the narrow peninsula bordered by the Chesapeake Bay on the west and the Atlantic on the east.
Sweet, shy Maria headed off with Mrs. Parks to the computer lab. Zander feigned disinterest while Ryan attempted to show him how to subtract fractions.
Prodded awake, Oscar came over to Anna’s side of the table. And a tender spot grew in her heart for the little guy in clean but ill-fitting blue jeans. Zander’s ragged jacket was totally inadequate for the coming winter months. But though her clothes were from a discount store, Maria appeared cared for.
In her previous teaching post in Texas, Anna had enjoyed her after-school work with at-risk students. And now more than ever, she needed the salary supplement.
She worked with Oscar on sight words and phonetics. While he practiced writing the letters of the alphabet, she took the opportunity to get her first good look at Ryan.
He hadn’t changed much. The same light brown hair. The eyeglasses were new, though, since she’d last seen him. He’d switched to contact lenses their senior year. But apparently he’d gone back to wearing frames, which suited him.
A tie hung askew at the open collar of his blue Oxford dress shirt. In a pair of belted jeans and brown suede shoes, he looked very much like what he was—a schoolteacher. Except far too handsome compared to any schoolteacher she’d ever known.
Placing the textbook in Zander’s backpack, Ryan’s chest rippled with muscles beneath the brown blazer. No longer the endearing, if goofy, boy she remembered with such fondness.
She flushed when Ryan caught her staring. The awkward moment ended as another volunteer arrived to take the children to the transportation bus.
Ryan jumped to his feet. “Great work today, kids.” Lanky as ever, he high-fived Maria and Oscar. Zander moved out of reach.
She straightened the books. “Have a great weekend, everyone.”
Mrs. Parks gathered her handbag. “See you on Monday.” The media center slowly emptied until only Anna and Ryan remained.
“It’s good to see you, Anna. Welcome home.”
Renewing her friendship with Ryan had factored in her decision to finally return home. And because of their friendship, she couldn’t delay revealing the truth any longer. Scraping the chair across the carpet, she rose heavily to her feet.
His smile froze. Behind the brownish-black frames of his glasses, bewilderment dotted his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. If her dearest friend in the world couldn’t understand, how would her parents react?
Almost without intending to, she placed her palm over her abdomen. And his eyes—the blue-green of so many in seaside Kiptohanock—flickered at the movement of her hand.
His features had become carved of stone, all chiseled bone and rugged angles. “I didn’t realize you’d remarried.”
She took a quick, indrawn breath. “I haven’t.” And with those simple words, it began.
His jaw tightened. “I see.” The stubble was new since high school. Giving him an attractive maturity. He looked away toward the window overlooking the playground.
She’d expected better from him. “What is it you think you see, Ryan?”
“I see a woman nine months preg—”
“Seven months.” Heat mounted above her collar. All too aware she resembled a beached whale.
A muscle ticked in that strong, square-cut jaw of his. “A woman seven months pregnant. A widow for the last two—”
“Mateo died nearly three years ago from cancer.”
“Who...?” Ryan cleared his throat. “Whose child is this?”
A child posthumously conceived from her late husband’s stored sperm before Mateo began chemotherapy. But Anna was tired of explaining herself.
“Mine.” She raised her chin. “The child is mine, Ryan.”
He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say to you, Anna.”
“Say that you’re my friend.” Her mouth trembled. “Say that you understand.”
“But I don’t understand, Anna. Why are you— What did your dad say when you got home?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. But because of her protruding belly, she could no longer see her black flats. “Dad and Mom are still at the army base with Jaxon in Europe. They don’t know yet.”
“You haven’t told them?” He gestured at her stomach. “Not exactly something you can hide.”
“I’m not hiding.” She bit her lip. Not anymore.
His broad shoulders slumped. “I was sorry to hear about Jax’s wife.”
“Exactly why I haven’t told my parents. They’ll be home after New Year’s.”
Who could’ve foreseen that she and her older brother, Jaxon, would both be widowed? This first Christmas without his wife, Jax needed their parents’ support. Their undivided attention.
She wasn’t eager to face the disappointment in her beloved father’s eyes. A disappointment not unlike the look on Ryan’s face.
“How did Charlie take the news?”
Charlie was Anna’s youngest brother, a deputy sheriff in town.
She pursed her lips. “I haven’t told him yet. I drove straight across the Bay Bridge Tunnel to school this morning from Virginia Beach.”
“Did you stay overnight with Will?” Ryan’s brow creased. “What did he say?”
A year younger than Anna, her firefighter brother lived on the other side of the bay.
“I made him promise to let me tell the rest of the family in my own time.”
Ryan shook his head. “So you drove all the way from Texas? You must be exhausted, Anna.”
In more ways than he could possibly know. Yet she was compelled by an inexplicable need to come home and mend fences with her family.
She took a breath. “I called Charlie this morning to let him know I was driving straight to work.”
Ryan frowned. “As I recall, your ex–deputy sheriff father doesn’t like surprises. Are you sure springing the baby on them is the best way to handle the situation?”
She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I wish you’d trust I’ve made the best decision for me and my baby.”
His eyes locked onto hers. “I wish...”
Something fluttered inside her chest. What did he wish?
He pinched his lips together. “Never mind.” Pivoting, he exited the media center as suddenly as he’d reappeared in her life.
She blinked away tears. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Why had she believed it would be different here? Brushing aside every obstacle, she’d left everything behind to be home for Christmas. She’d so needed a new start.
If this was any indication of the reception she’d get from her hometown... Her gut wrenched. She’d hoped the people who knew her best and loved her the most would also love this child.
Had she made a mistake in coming home?