Homefront Holiday. Jillian Hart

sir.”

      As he climbed down, Mike listened to the thump, thump of Ali’s sneakers on the cement as he bounced up and down, unable to hold back his excitement.

      Ali caught his hand and tugged. “C’mon. Hurry!”

      Mike’s lungs seized up. The images of what he had let himself think about back in the desert took him over—images of what it would be like to have Ali for his son. Cooking dinner, taking him to school, taping crayon masterpieces to the refrigerator, hanging Christmas lights from the roof.

      Not possible now, Mike thought as he knelt down at the gutter spout. Looks like he would have to carve those feelings out, too.

      One end of the orange extension cord snaked up behind the downspout, and the other half was on the ground, just as he’d left it. He handed the plug to Ali. “You do the honors.”

      “Can I? Oh, boy!” Ali’s eyes widened and grasped it fast. He wasted no time getting the short distance to the outside outlet. Mike knelt down beside him to hold back the outlet’s cover and helped him position the plug. It connected, colored light flared like fireworks against the dark sky and Ali clapped. “Looky. It’s blinkin’.”

      “Good job, soldier.”

      Ali straightened up and lifted his hand to his brow to salute. “I’m gonna be just like you.”

      His throat closed and he stared at the flashing lights adorning Sarah’s little house until they no longer blurred. But now, he realized what he had lost. This little boy. He would never have him for a son.

      “I love it. I love it.” Ali clasped his hands together, transfixed. “I love it! I want more. Can we do more, Dr. Mike? Pleeeease?”

      “You want more?” He hoped his voice sounded normal. “Isn’t this enough?”

      “No, sir.” Eyes wide, face happy, dancing in place, Ali was obviously thriving here with Sarah.

      Could he fight for the right to adopt Ali? Should he? Maybe that was the bigger question. Ali had lost everyone he had loved; he did not need to lose Sarah, too.

      Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Turn off your heart, man. Just turn it off. He didn’t let his gaze stray to the golden light of the window, where he might see Sarah. “You need enough lights for the Christmas tree, don’t you?”

      “But I want lots.” Ali jumped in place. “So they flash and flash.”

      A chuckle broke loose. “If I were you, I would beg Sarah to put the Christmas tree right at that big window there, so you can see the lights from the front of the house, too.”

      “Yeah. Cool.” Ali clasped his hands together. “Those lights flash. That’s what Sarah said.”

      It amazed him how fast the boy was acclimating to his new country and new life with Sarah. Sure, being in school now with kids his own age helped, but it also said a lot about Ali’s resilience and Sarah’s love for him. Mike wrestled down his bitterness.

      “Sarah!” Ali bounded away, full of energy and pounded up the porch steps. “Sarah!”

      “Who’s making all this noise out here?” Sarah’s gentle voice was full of laughter. “I can’t believe it’s you, Ali. For a minute there, I thought it was Clarence.”

      Ali laughed and it was a precious sound, full of glee. “No, it’s me! You gotta come see.”

      Mike had forgotten Sarah’s charm. Maybe because it tore him apart to remember. But there it was, in the sweeping smile and brilliant eyes as she scooped her cat into her arms like a furry baby. She lugged him with her as she padded down the steps, washed in the jeweled glow from the lights. He could hear the cat’s rusty purr as Sarah breezed near.

      “You boys did a great job,” she praised. “Ali, do those lights blink enough for you?”

      “No! I want more.”

      “Those are the flashiest lights we could find in the store, silly boy.” Warm gentle love, that was Sarah’s voice. It was no surprise why Ali’s gaze was one hundred percent pure adoration. Even when she was upset, which she had to be having him here, she was kind. “Mike, thanks for helping out. I never could have done such a good job.”

      “No problem.” His voice sounded choked as the air pressure changed and the steel walls around his heart buckled. The several feet separating them seemed to vanish as they gazed up at the lights together, as if shoulder to shoulder.

      You don’t feel a thing, Montgomery, he ordered himself. You will not feel one single thing.

      “Do you boys want to come in and warm up?” Her voice moved through him like a melody. “I’ve got chocolate cupcakes and cocoa for you.”

      “Oh, boy. I do!” Ali clapped his hands. “That’s my favorite.”

      “Yes, I know, cutie. It used to be Mike’s favorite, too.” Her gaze pinned him with a quiet question. In the silence settling between them she was asking him to stay.

      “Dr. Mike.” Ali grabbed his hand and tugged. “We’re alike.”

      Emotion lodged in his throat, burned behind his eyes. He wanted to stay for the boy’s sake, but how would this end? Ali would soon belong to Sarah legally, and there was no future for Mike here. He thought of the span of life he had traveled without her. He had covered too much ground to go back. He had too much pride to keep looking the woman, who had ripped him to pieces, in the face.

      He took a backward step. “I sure would like to stay with you, Ali, but I gotta get back.”

      “I don’t want you to go.”

      Looking into those honest eyes made the lump in his throat harder to swallow. He missed the boy. Months ago when he had sent the boy off for his flight to the States, the desert outpost had been lonely without him.

      All gone now. He squared his shoulders and put away those memories, those feelings. “I have to go. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. How’s that?”

      “When tomorrow?” Ali’s grip grew tight enough to cut off circulation. “What time are you gonna call?”

      He saw pain for the boy soft on Sarah’s beautiful face, but he did what he had to do. The boy wasn’t his to love. The woman never really had been. He did an about-face and plucked his truck keys from his pocket. Tomorrow was Sunday. “How about lunchtime? Before noon.”

      “But I wanna see you, Dr. Mike.” Ali’s happiness dimmed, and the grief that his smile had been covering up was heartbreaking. “I waited and waited. Just like you said. We are gonna get pizza right away. You promised.”

      “I did.” Pressure built behind his solar plexus. It wasn’t just guilt. It wasn’t just disappointment. How much had Ali been counting on getting together? Mike thought of all their phone conversations, and all the veiled suggestions he had made to do things with him. At the time, he had been feeling out the idea of adoption and picturing himself in the role as dad. Now he saw that Ali may have heard them as promises.

      He winced. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the boy. How on earth was he going to be able to fix this? If he saw Ali, then he would have to see Sarah, too.

      “Mike, this doesn’t have to be difficult.” She kept her loving gaze on Ali, not on him. “How does Sunday work for you? You can pick Ali up after church services.”

      “Church?” He wasn’t going to be dragged to church again like Sarah had done the last few months before their breakup. He didn’t doubt the presence of God. He just doubted the relevance. And the truth is, he wasn’t a man to get all touchy-feely over something he couldn’t touch or see. He didn’t need it. “I’m not going to attend with you two.”

      She held up one hand as if to ward off his argument. Her voice as always was mild. “I said after the service. You two can