Dusk fell as Ryan hauled the last box up the rickety, wooden steps into the run-down trailer. He placed the box on the peeling kitchen countertop. No wonder Anna hadn’t wanted her brother out here.
She raised her palm before he could speak. “It was cheap. It was furnished. It’s temporary and not any of your business.”
“You can’t stay here, Anna. The steps are an accident waiting to happen.”
She folded her arms. “I’ll be fine.”
“And that car you got as a high school graduation present is on its last legs. I can’t believe you drove from Texas in that bucket of bolts.”
“My car is fine.”
“You and I both know that at the crack of dawn, your brother is going to pay you a visit. And then he’s going to drag you out of here if he has to put you under house arrest—his house—to do it.”
In her defiant brown eyes, for a second he glimpsed the take-no-sass girl raised in a houseful of boys. “He can try.”
She wasn’t the only one who could do stubborn. “I’m fixing the steps, Anna.”
“I’ll fix the steps myself.”
He planted his hands on his hips. “Can you see your feet, Anna, much less crawl under the porch?”
She rocked back. Wrong thing to say to a pregnant woman.
“I didn’t mean that the way—” But she sidestepped his outstretched hand.
Frustration bubbled at her mile-wide independent streak. “I can’t in good conscience let you get hurt on those steps.”
“Conscience’s sake? Is that why you’re here?” Her lips flattened. “What am I, Ryan, this year’s Christmas project?”
He moved around the kitchen island toward her. “Absolutely not.”
She pressed her spine against the speckled counter. “Knock yourself out then. Don’t let me stop you.”
“Anna, I just—”
“By all means do what you have to do so you can sleep at night.” She inched past him, not an easy feat with the lack of square footage in the tiny galley kitchen.
As for the electric spark when he touched her hand on Charlie’s porch? He clamped down on his jaw.
Friends. They were friends. He drilled it into his brain. Just friends.
Retrieving the toolbox from the trunk of his car, he did what he could in the fading light to make the hand railing more secure. The steps needed a total overhaul. But in the meantime...
Poking her head out the door, Anna flicked a switch inside the house. An exterior light blinked to feeble life.
He glanced up. “I’m done for the night.”
“Thank you, Ryan. Don’t let me keep you from...” She fluttered her hand in the general direction of the mainland United States. “Wherever you go in the evenings.”
“From my wife and kids, you mean?”
The strangest look crossed her face, so quickly he almost believed he imagined it. “I didn’t realize you had a wife and children.”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.” She moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “Good.”
He cocked his head. “Good I don’t have a wife and kids?”
“Yes—no...” She reddened. “I mean, good that I’m not keeping you from anything. Like supper.” She cleared her throat. “I should pay you.”
He frowned. “I don’t want you to pay me.”
Earning him a mulish look.
“On second thought, maybe you are keeping me from my supper.” He chucked the hammer. It clattered into the metallic toolbox. “And since you have to eat, too, we might as well keep each other company.”
She stiffened. “Why?”
He leaned against the railing, testing his weight against it. “You need to eat. I need to eat.” He glanced at her basketball-size belly. “The baby needs for you to eat. And there’s something else you can keep me from.”
She rested her hand on top of her stomach. “What’s that?”
“You can keep me from another Friday night of eating alone.” He grinned at her. “Dinner will give us a chance to catch up.”
“Long time no see?”
“Our Christmas reunion. A lot has happened since we last saw each other.”
“No kidding.” Her gaze fell to the wooden steps. “I’m sorry about your dad, Ryan.” She dropped her hand to her side. “Mateo was going through chemo and...”
“We lost touch. No problem. Dinner?”
Her lashes feathered her skin. “I never could say no to you.”
Which wasn’t how he remembered high school. Though more often than not, he hadn’t given her a chance to say no. He’d been too scared to ask Anna to prom. He reckoned it best to be content being best friends.
He made sure she locked the door. Another item on his To-Do list. Wouldn’t take much effort to break the lock on the wobbly doorknob. He’d feel better knowing Anna was safe at night out here alone. Ryan offered his arm as she descended the steps.
Instead, she gripped the bannister. “I got it. Thanks for making the railing sturdier.”
He stationed himself at ground level in case she needed him. Not that Anna Pruitt had ever needed him. He’d been the one who foolishly hoped their friendship might blossom into something more. “How ’bout Tammy and Johnny’s for burgers and fries?”
“Boot?” Her lips curved. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard me some Shore talk.”
He rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Which simply means it’s been too long since you’ve been graced by our unique Tidewater dialect.”
She smiled as she crossed the oyster-shelled driveway to his car. “Dutch treat.”
He opened the passenger door. “I’m not going to argue with you about dinner. It’s my treat.”
“That doesn’t seem fair considering how much you’ve already helped me.”
He kept the door between them. “I insist. For old times’ sake.”
“Old times.” She backed into the seat. “Just let me stuff my beached whale self inside your car.” She swung her legs inside last.
He tucked her red wool coat out of the way of the door. “You look beautiful.”
It was true. She’d been a lovely girl. Pregnant, she glowed with a womanly luminescence.
She twisted at an awkward angle, reaching for the seat belt. “You’re being kind.”
“Let me.” Leaning over her, he clicked the seat belt in position. Unconsciously, he inhaled her scent. A delicious blend of vanilla, cloves and cinnamon. Like Christmas. So like the Anna he remembered.
The air suddenly felt close. Rising abruptly, he banged his head on the roof. “Ow.”
She took a ragged breath. “Are you okay?”
Grunting, he extricated himself and rubbed the top of his scalp. Rounding the hood, he slipped into the driver seat and concentrated on pulling out of her badly rutted driveway. He planned to give Charlie a call tonight. Between the two of them, they’d soon sort a few issues with her landlord.
She shifted in the seat. “How long was your father sick?”
“Mom called us home after his stroke four years ago. At rehab, Dad suffered another stroke two months later and died.”
“Why did you stay?”
He negotiated a bend in the road. “The bills had piled up. The business was in danger of going under. With Mom working at the high school, someone had to keep the business afloat. We all helped with the garden center and farm.”
She placed her palm atop her abdomen. “The Savage siblings rallied.” Her eyes flitted to his. “I’ve always loved how supportive y’all are to each other.”
“Y’all.” His lips twitched. “Glad to see you can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.” He bypassed the turnoff for Kiptohanock.
She swatted his arm. Like old times.
He grinned. “Luke does the actual horticultural work. Justine gave up her art gallery to run the garden center. But Ethan had to finish his enlistment first. Once Tess completed her degree, she came home, too.”
“My mother tells me you gave up your career.”
He swallowed, touched that she’d gone to the trouble of keeping track of him over the years. “Once a science geek, always a science geek.”
“You were never a geek, Mr. Track Star. In fact, you were always too cool for school.” She patted the dashboard. “You’re still rocking the laid-back vibe.” A smile played across her lips.
He arched his eyebrow. “’Cause it doesn’t get cooler than a Saab?”
She laughed and pointed at the radio. “Harry Connick or Sinatra?”
Ryan smiled. “Probably their holiday CDs. As I recall, you start celebrating in October.”
“Not anymore.” She sighed. “Since Mateo died, Christmas is something to just get through.”
Pulling off the highway, he steered into the crowded roadside hangout. It pained him to hear her talk like that. “You have so much to look forward to. And next year will be the baby’s first Christmas.”
Her expression closed. “Did you see Oscar’s face when he mentioned Christmas?”
Ryan took the hint. Talk of the future made Anna uneasy. “Until Zander shot him down like an eight-year-old Grinch.”
“When I think back to the wonderful childhood memories I have, it hurts my heart to imagine what Christmas has been like for those kids.”
He turned off the engine. “After we eat, I could use your help on making this Christmas a happy one for them. But we’ll have to hurry to implement Phase One of Operation Christmas.”
* * *
Operation Christmas?
Perhaps Ryan was on to something. She could think of no one she’d rather see happy than those children. Spending time with the handsome teacher would be a plus.
Inside, he wouldn’t allow her to pay for her meal. “Pick a seat.” He motioned. “I’ll wait for the food.”
Not drifting far, she’d no sooner chosen a seat than two children ran over to him. Max and Izzie, two of his fifth graders.
“Are you coming tonight, Mr. Savage?”
“You gotta come, Mr. Savage.”
He grinned at them. “Since you’ve known me, have I ever missed the flotilla parade?”
Was that tonight? Anna would eat fast so as not to keep him from other commitments. The children rejoined a group of adults and younger children. Caroline and Amelia Duer. Their mother and Ryan’s father had been siblings. The sisters and Ryan were first cousins.
She was less pleased by the other women, who, one by one, sidled over to the bachelor teacher. With his lanky build and the swimming-pool eyes behind the frames, he was not merely popular with children.
No surprise, he remained a chick magnet. There was something irresistible about a man so not interested in becoming attached.
On second thought, he never said he wasn’t attached. She squirmed on the hard plastic seat. Only that he wasn’t married.
A line of women floated past Ryan at the drink dispensary. If he wasn’t already attached, it wasn’t from lack of trying on the part of the Shore’s female residents.
Carrying the tray, he sank into the seat opposite Anna. “Sorry it took so long.”
She pursed her lips. “The plight of a handsome heartthrob.”
He set the tray down. “What?”
Whether he was truly unattached or not really didn’t fall into the “just friends” category. But the itch to know wouldn’t leave her.
She reached for her milkshake. Babies needed dairy, right? “I find it hard to believe you haven’t been taken off the market by a girlfriend.” She bit into a french fry.
His blue eyes dropped to half-mast. “Actually, I was engaged when Dad got sick.”
The fry lodged in her throat. She choked. He thrust his water cup at her.
She took a quick gulp. A fiancée? Why had no one mentioned that detail over the years?
“Thanks.” She pushed away the fries, her appetite gone. “Was engaged?”
“I thought I was in love.” He looked away. “I believed she was in love with me. I was wrong on both counts.”
Someone hurt him. Badly. “What happened?”
His jaw tightened. “Karen was a research analyst at the same pharmaceutical company. When Dad got sick, I came home.” He combed his hand through the short hair on the nape of his neck. “Karen broke things off. She couldn’t envision herself living in this, and I quote, ‘beachside backwater.’”
Anna placed her hand over his on the table. “And after you sacrificed so much, you lost her, too.”
“I’m no hero, Anna.” He shook his head. “I was bitter for a long time. But stripped of everything I’d pursued so relentlessly, I rediscovered God. Dad’s death hit us hard. I needed to be there for the family so I took the only job for which I was remotely qualified. Teaching on a then-provisional license.”
She suspected he was adept at hiding his pain. “I’m sorry you had to give up your dream.”
He shrugged. “With an educator for a mother, maybe a teaching gene has always been part of my DNA.”
“Spoken like the scientist you are.” His hand felt warm and strong against hers. “Based on that theory, I should either be a nurse or a deputy sheriff.”
At the same moment, they both seemed to realize they were still touching. He withdrew his hand, and she dropped hers into her lap.
He handed her a wrapped burger. “You still faint at the sight of blood, Anna Banana?” The corners of his mouth curved. “Leastways, Charlie followed in your dad’s footsteps.”
“Like you followed in your mom’s.”
He toyed with the burger. “Only till Christmas.”
Anna’s stomach knotted. “I don’t understand.”
He crossed his arms. “This isn’t for public consumption. The family and Principal Carden know, but no one else.”
She swallowed. “Know what?”
“I’m leaving for my old pharmaceutical job in North Carolina after Christmas.”
“What about your family?” Her voice hitched. “What about your class? Our after-school group?” What about me? she wanted to ask but didn’t.
“Mom and the rest of the family are finally ready to move on with their lives. Mr. Carden has already found a teacher for my class.” He made a wry grimace. “Turns out I’m easily replaced.”
“I don’t think your fifth graders, Maria, Oscar or Zander would agree.”
“They’ll like the guy who’s taking my place. He has more experience working with at-risk kids, too.”
But no matter how great the new teacher proved to be, he’d never be Ryan.
“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”
He nodded. “It’s a done deal. It will be good to get back to the lab where I belong.”
Disappointment swelled within Anna.
His face became animated as he told her about the exciting research team he’d be joining. “The drug we’re developing has the potential to change the lives of thousands of people.”
She couldn’t believe he was leaving just when she’d come back. Their lives had always been at cross-purposes. She should be happy for him. It was obviously what he’d worked so hard to achieve.
“I’m happy for you, Ryan.” Maybe saying it would make it so. But she didn’t feel any better. She’d probably have to say it a dozen more times to make it real.
He ran his hand over his head, a sign of uncertainty with him. “Now that the business is stable, there’s nothing else to keep me here.” An expression she couldn’t decipher crisscrossed his face. “Is there?”
She laced her fingers together in her lap. “I guess some things don’t change. Like the difference between you and me.”
He tilted his head. “What difference?”
“When I left for college, I didn’t dream I’d be gone fourteen years.” She rested her hand on her abdomen. “I never planned or wanted to live anywhere else.”
He met her gaze head-on. “Whereas I always wanted to leave.”
“I remember.” Her voice softened. “And you can’t wait to leave again.”
“How much of the world did you see before Mateo—?” He scrubbed his hand over his beard stubble. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay to talk about Mateo, Ryan. I won’t fall apart. Restationed every few years, we managed to see a lot of the United States.” She placed her palms flat on either side of the tray. “But most of all, Mateo wanted to start a family.”
Ryan pushed the tray aside. “What did you want?”
“I wanted to be a mother, too, only—”
Only her selfishness had cost her husband the chance to know his child.
“I believed Mateo and I had plenty of time...” She worked to control the trembling of her chin. “Turns out I was wrong.”
“Then we’ll have to make the most of the time we have.”
She glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“Operation Christmas. The number listed in the file for Zander has been disconnected.” Ryan propped his elbows on the table. “But I was able to reach Oscar’s mom and got permission to take him to the Flotilla of Lights tonight in the harbor. Wanna give the kid a little taste of Christmas?”
“But—”
“I didn’t forget about Maria. Her folks already plan to attend.”
It had been so long since she attended a Kiptohanock Christmas boat parade.
“Unless...” He deflated. “You’re tired. I can take you home first. Or if you think it’s a bad idea—”
“Are you kidding?” She lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t miss seeing Oscar’s face for the world.”
He smiled that slow, lopsided smile of his. Setting off an unfamiliar seismic reaction in her heart.
This was about the children, she reminded herself. Sternly. “Operation Christmas, Phase One, right?”
“Exactly.” He rubbed his palms together. “This is going to be fun. Get ready for the Christmas of your life.”
And she had the feeling that somehow it would be—maybe in more ways than she could yet imagine.