Jaw clenched, Ryan carried the potted Christmas tree inside Anna’s trailer. “Where do you want it?”
Lips tight, she pointed in front of the large window.
He wasn’t feeling too positive about her right now, either. He hadn’t remembered Anna being this stubborn. Good thing he was leaving in a few weeks. Only an idiot saw the hurt coming and kept running toward it.
As he drove away, he congratulated himself on dodging a bullet with Anna. Her situation wasn’t his problem.
He had a job and a new life off-Shore. Life was simpler in the laboratory. Data collected. Data analyzed. Solution achieved. One plus one equaled two. Always. No deviation. Input yielded output every single time.
If only life was more like a formula. But relationships were messy. Fraught with complications and best avoided altogether. Anna was right. He wasn’t going to stick around to watch a tree—or a baby—grow.
And what about the kids in the after-school program? The danger Oscar and his too-young mother faced every night in that sleazy motel nagged at Ryan.
Unable to quiet his heart, he called Agnes Parks with his concerns about Oscar. Twenty minutes later, he hung up with a sigh of relief. The problem had been identified. The problem would be resolved. His responsibility was done. For Anna, too.
And he kept telling himself that as a sleepless Saturday night rolled into Sunday morning. Right until he trudged into church and caught her watching for him.
His heart pounded. When his shadow fell over her, she glanced at him. And slid over a few inches on the wooden pew. Plenty of room for him. If that’s what he wanted. He did.
Ryan sank into the pew. “Mornin’, Anna.” His voice sounded as raspy as fallen autumn leaves.
“Morning, Ryan.”
Across the aisle with the rest of his siblings, Justine’s mouth dropped open at his appearance. After an unsettled night, he was aware that not only did he look rough, he was also late for church. He raked his hand over his head, earning a concerned frown from his mother.
Pink, red and white poinsettias bedecked the altar steps. Each plant dedicated to the memory of an absent loved one. Including one for his father.
Christmas wasn’t an easy time for his mom. Despite the shared merriment of the holiday—maybe because of it—Christmas could be an especially lonely time for those missing someone.
With sudden insight, he reckoned Anna must be experiencing a myriad of conflicting, confusing emotions. Joy at her child’s impending birth coupled with the loss of the child’s father.
The organ music swelled. Reverend Parks rose. Sweet sounds of Christmas filled the sanctuary. O come all ye faithful... The voices of the faithful floated toward the rafter beams. Joyful and triumphant...
He sighed. What was he doing with Anna? Why was he getting involved with Oscar? There wasn’t room in Anna’s life for anyone except her child. He should be keeping his head down, his heart cordoned off and ticking down the days until the start of his new life. Anything else would not end well for him.
Come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem... He stole a look at Anna. She sang, her hand resting atop her mushrooming abdomen. And then his eyes widened.
Like a fisted jab, the top of her stomach pulsed. From the inside, pushing outward. He blinked at the small, rounded bulge. The heel of a tiny foot or the imprint of a hand. In and out. In and out.
He counted the beats in his head. The movement in perfect rhythm with the organ music. Like a beater striking a kick drum.
O come let us adore Him... Was it possible? Did the unborn child hear the carol? His gaze returned to Anna’s serene expression. Eyes closed, her head tipped back. Singing. Worshipping.
Perhaps Ryan had it wrong. Perhaps he’d always had it wrong. He wasn’t done at all. Not with Oscar. Not with Maria and Zander.
Ryan’s stomach knotted. O come let us adore Him... His attention, yet again, was drawn to the pulsing rhythm of the baby in Anna’s womb. Perhaps the real truth was Ryan had no room in his heart for anyone but himself.
Help me, God. I don’t know what You want me to do.
But maybe deep down, Ryan already knew what God wanted him to do. Did loving God mean loving His children also? He sucked in a breath. Was that what God wanted of him? To love Maria, Oscar and Zander? Anna’s baby, too?
Something shifted inside him. And though he had no idea how—somehow he trusted all would be well. The next month might not unfold the way he first envisioned, but walking away was not going to be an option for him. He had to be in this for Anna and the kids for the duration. At least, until Christmas.
The congregation finished with a triumphant flourish as the last chords of the organ died away.
Anna leaned close. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
He nodded before sinking into the seat. He had a hard time focusing on the sermon. And after the final benediction, she touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry for what happened yesterday.”
Whereas he’d been sorry about what hadn’t happened.
His shoulders hunched. Was that true? Since renewing their friendship, he’d rationalized he could remain friends with Anna and require nothing more. But after yesterday at the tree farm?
Ryan wasn’t so sure he could be this close to her and be content with friendship. Anna and the kids were like a battering ram against the walls of his heart. And with every encounter, his defensive barricades weakened a little more.
He might not be able to completely walk away, but he could spend less time with her. Establish better boundaries with Anna. For the welfare of his heart.
“Ryan, I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Grateful...” Like forcing down a bitter pill, he swallowed hard. “Right.”
This was a Ryan problem. Not an Anna problem.
She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I hate to be a pest, but...could you fix the lock for me this week?”
The thought crossed his mind that she was searching for a reason to see him again. As if she was afraid she’d pushed him too far. Asked for one favor too many. But he had promised to fix the lock on the trailer door.
“Tomorrow after school?” Her voice grew small. “Ryan?”
He never could say no to her. “Okay.”
So much for boundaries.
But at least this way, he could keep an eye on her without offending her pride or antagonizing her independent spirit. For the baby’s sake. He grimaced. A poor excuse was better than none.
“Thank you, Ryan.” The dazzling brilliance of her smile momentarily blinded him.
He walked her outside, careful not to touch her. That’s where he’d gone wrong yesterday. New rule—no unnecessary touching.
At the edge of the winter-brown grass, she moved toward her car. She waved as she slipped into the Volkswagen. And he watched her drive away.
Maybe that’s what this was about. A lesson in letting her go. He could do that. Couldn’t he? He’d let her go once before when they went their separate ways after high school. He clenched his eyes shut.
But the real question? If this time he could let her go without falling helplessly and hopelessly in love with her.