by Nancy Fraser
“I can’t deny it because it’s true. But I was barely eighteen, Keith. We were entirely too young to even consider having, and caring for, a baby since we were still kids ourselves. If we’d been thinking with our heads, instead of our hormones, I would never have gotten pregnant in the first place. When I miscarried, although I was devastated, a small part of me felt relieved. Don’t you remember how scared I was the day we found out for sure I was pregnant?”
He rose from his perch opposite and planted himself next to her. “I was scared, too, Sage.” He took her hand in his. “Terrified. But I can’t deny that part of me was also thrilled. Even though we were young and it was a shock, having a baby together just felt...right, somehow.” Memories galloped to the front of his mind of those days after she’d told him. How he hadn’t slept for three nights straight; how he’d thought of a thousand scenarios for their future life together. “I had it all mapped out. How we’d get married, get a little apartment near my school. I even planned to tell my grandparents, knowing they’d help any way they could. But then...”
“I miscarried.”
He shook his head. “The worst day of my life. Well, second worst. That day was trumped when you announced not a week later, as soon as you got home from the hospital, you were leaving for college, early, and didn’t think we should see one another anymore.”
Her gaze dropped to the cup she held between her hands. She shook her head.
“My mother said it was for the best and I really thought she was right.” When she lifted her head again, moisture pooled in the corners of her eyes. “We had our whole lives ahead of us. A baby would have changed everything, destroyed all the dreams we had, the things we wanted to accomplish. You were already in college and majoring in building design. I was on track for medical school once my undergrad requirements were met. Everything, every thing in our lives, would have changed if the baby had survived past those three months.”
“But she didn’t,” he said.
“No. She didn’t.” He bit back a gasp at the depth of pain filling her eyes. “Everything went back to...normal. Well, as normal as it could be. We were able to, once again, follow our dreams.”
“And yet you didn’t want to be with me anymore, which was one of those dreams. I can remember every word you said to me, right here in this gazebo in fact, the day before you left.” He tugged on her hand, squeezing it until she looked him in the eyes. “We’d each heal better without the constant reminder of what happened if we didn’t see one another again. We needed a break, we’d been together too long, had never had a chance to be with other people. You were leaving and it was for the best.”
“My mother’s words, more than mine,” she admitted.
He stored that little tidbit in the back of his mind. “All the times I’ve been back over the years I’ve wondered if we’d meet on the street, or in a restaurant. If we did, what would we say to one another? How would we feel? But you stuck to your word and never came back. Not once, even when your mom and grandmother died. Corrine told me you made all the arrangements from”—he shrugged—“wherever you were living.”
“Can you understand why I needed to leave and stay away? Had to leave, Keith? It was the only way I could move on.”
His gloved hand squeezed hers again and held on fast. “I can. Now. With time and maturity. But when I was twenty and you were my world, it was a different story. I was a wreck, Sage, a total wreck. When we needed one another the most, when I needed my best friend and the love of my life next to me, the girl I wanted to spend my life with, she walked away and never looked back.”
With her shoulders slumped under her coat and her head bent, he knew her words were true when she said, “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
He had been hurt, devastated by her dismissal, and at how easily she could turn her back on everything they’d meant to one another since they were kids.
Sage had always been the girl for him, the only girl. He’d never even considered they wouldn’t someday get married. Shock, hurt, and his stupid pride had prevented him from running after her that day and telling her what was in his heart, how much he loved her and didn’t want to break up. How he wanted to fight for them to stay together.
“You had—have—every right to hate me.” When she lifted her head again, one solitary tear slid down her cheek. In that moment his heart stuttered and shifted.
“I don’t hate you.” Which, he realized right then, was the truth. “I probably didn’t back then, either, when push comes to shove. I hated what happened to you, to our baby. To us. We were robbed of something so special. Cheated out of our future together, and it was just wrong.”
Sage pulled her hand from his and wiped her wet cheeks. “So many times over the years I’ve thought the same thing: if our baby had only lived. If my mother hadn’t convinced me leaving cold was the best way to get over it. Our lives would have been vastly different.” She shrugged and sniffed. “It was the main reason I could never bear to come back to town. I knew, deep down I think, that she was wrong to make me go away. But I was young and didn’t know any better. She was thinking logically at the time while I was a basket case of emotions and hormones and her words just,” she shrugged, “made sense and sounded right.” She lifted her gaze to his again. “She was also the one who encouraged me to stay away all those years. She told me more times than I can remember that even though the pain had subsided, it would return as soon as I came back to town. Since I was terrified it would, I stayed away.”
He’d always thought Sage’s leaving had been coerced, but since she’d left the day after telling him she was going, he’d never had the opportunity to press her on the decision.
Damn it. I should have run after her all those years ago. She was suffering, hurting, more than I ever realized. Well, of course she’d been, you idiot. She’d been the one carrying the baby. The one who felt it growing inside her.
Keith had let his youthful ego dictate his actions and prejudice his feelings against Sage. How wrong he’d been to do so.
They’d lost not only a baby, but their future together, as well.
Sage sucked in a deep breath and swiped a hand under her nose. “But we can’t live with what-ifs. If one thing being a doctor has taught me, it’s obsessing about what should have been will destroy your health, happiness, even your sanity, every time.”
He thought about all the times his sanity had taken a beating when he thought of her and how much he’d missed having her in his life.
“But you came back here after saying you never would,” he said.
Another shrug. “With my mother and grandmother both...gone, and my marriage over, I had no place else to go. And I realize how pitiful that sounds.” She rolled her eyes. “But I couldn’t stay in the same town I’d lived in with Leland. The medical community is small there and everyone knew what he’d been doing for years. It really is true the wife is the last to know. I was too...mortified, to stay. Coming back here seemed like the best option at the time.”
He nodded. “And did the pain return, like your mother said it would?”
She looked him square in the eyes and without hesitation, said, “No.”
Hope surged through him. For the first time in a long, long time, something akin to expectation exploded in his chest.
Sage took a sip from her cup, then winced. “Ugh. Is there anything worse than cold hot chocolate?”
One corner of his mouth lifted.
The mood surrounding them cleared and that sense of heaviness weighing him down whenever he thought about their past lifted.
“I know we can’t go back and change what happened, Keith, or eradicate the pain we both felt. But I hope we can at least move on from it. I’d really like to know we can be...friends, again.”
What did it say about him that he wanted to be so much more than her friend? Even after all the hurt, anguish, and the feelings of not being enough, of not being good enough to stick around for, he still wanted her in his life like
she’d been all those years ago?
She’d run straight out of town again if she knew, he was sure of it.
“Sometimes,” she said, breaking through his musings, “over the years, and even after I was married, I’d happen to see something or read something and think, oh, Keith would love this. Or hear a news story and say, Keith would have a conniption if he heard this.”
He tilted his head, charmed by the half grin on her face.
“So you really did think about me.”
She nodded. “Thought about and...missed.”
He tugged her free hand back into his. Cocooning it with both of his, he said, “I’ll probably have to turn in my man card for this, but I missed and thought about you, too. So many times. When I graduated architectural school and was hired by my first firm, I wanted to share the news with you. I knew you’d be as thrilled for me as I was.”
“And proud of you, too.”
He nodded. “When Quinn was born and the nurse put him in my arms, I remember thinking, aside from the fact his face looked as wizened and dry as my grandfather’s,”—that pulled a smile from her—“that I wished I knew how our daughter would have looked if she’d lived. And if she resembled Quinn at all.”
“I’m sure your wife wasn’t happy about you thinking that.”
He sighed. “Barbara wasn’t happy about anything. It’s a wonder Quinn turned out so well with a workaholic for a father and a gambler for a mother.”
“I’d love to meet your son.”
“You’ll get your chance. He’s coming for Christmas. Although we’ll probably have to spend it in the hospital this year.”
On a sigh, Sage’s gaze drifted around the gazebo then settled on his face. “I think I’ve had enough of a break. I imagine your toes are frozen by now.”
He lifted one of his booted feet and flexed his toes. “Circulation sound, thank goodness. I can till feel them.”
Another smile bloomed.
“But I agree.” He stood. “I want to get back and check on Corrine.”
“Me, too.”
As they made their way, silently, to the hospital, Keith thought about how much their lives would have been different if he’d gone after Sage all those yeas ago instead of letting his pride get the better of him.
As she’d said, you can’t change the past.
But you can plan for the future and do whatever you can to influence it in your direction.
Something to consider.
Chapter 5
CORRINE HAD BEEN sleeping for over 40 hours when Sage walked into her room the next morning. Everything from a medical standpoint told her the old woman was fine. Excellent vital signs, brain wave activity strong. Even her EKGs were perfect.
Why, then, wouldn’t she wake up?
The longer she slept the longer she needed an intravenous line to keep her hydrated and a urinary catheter to ensure her output was stable. Both were avenues for potential infection to develop, something which could be life threatening in someone her age.
The evening before Sage had contacted both the surgeon who’d repaired Corrine’s hip and the anesthesiologist who’d attended the surgery. Both assured her everything went textbook perfect during the procedure. It appeared the woman was simply taking her time waking up. Sage had suggested possibly giving her a stimulant to speed the process along, but then all three of them decided with her history of hypertension it wasn’t a route worth traveling.
“What are you doing?”
“I think that’s obvious.” Keith turned and pierced her with a quizzical glare. “When I got back to the house last night, I realized Corrine hadn’t decorated yet. She’d put up the tree, but it was bare. I figured I’d bring a little Christmas cheer to her. Maybe it’ll give her an incentive to finally wake up. You know how much she loves decorating for Christmas.”
She always had.
Every holiday in Sage’s memory Corrine’s home had been decked with holiday cheer from attic to cellar. Ceiling-tall trees in the living and dining rooms, table-toppers in the foyer and den. Holly strung over the doorways, down and around the stair bannisters. Every surface covered with nutcrackers of all sizes and manner.
“How did you get permission to bring that in here?” She pointed to the six-foot fir he was trimming. “The staff don’t usually allow things that large in the patient rooms.”
He shrugged while he secured an ornament to a branch. “I didn’t ask, and no one stopped me or said anything when I carted it in.”
She moved closer and was surprised to find all the ornaments he’d placed were angels. Every variation, from gold with wings, to cherubs with trumpets, porcelain, silver and glass, and all in differing sizes. The angel tree-topper’s celestial gown was a swatch of white linen, it’s fabric wings fully opened, a halo circling a head of waist-length and flowing blonde hair.
One of the ornaments at eye level caught her attention.
“I gave her this one.” With infinite care, she traced the outline of the small porcelain figure with her finger. “I remember my grandmother helped me pick it out when I said I wanted to give Corrine something because she’d been so nice to us after my dad died.”
A little rap of awareness knocked on her heart as his warm gaze settled on her face.
When he’d taken her hand in the gazebo the day before and held it between both of his, such a powerful sense of rightness bounded through her. She found herself wanting to lean in and press her lips against his. To absorb all his heat, all his essence.
They’d parted all those years ago on the worst of terms, leaving both of them angry and hurt. Terribly so. Yesterday they’d made progress mending the wound her leaving had caused and she was hopeful they could at least be friends again. Talking about their painful, shared past, helped them both see there was no villain in their story, just circumstance and bad luck.
Being around him these past two days had done more to brighten her mood than anything else had since her divorce, even returning to Dickens.
“She loves that one,” he said. “Every year she hangs it on the big tree in the living room.”
“I can’t believe she kept it.” Glancing around at the other ornaments, she commented on the exclusivity of the angels.
“You know my grandmother believes—strongly—angels are around us all the time. They act as guardians, fighters, and helpers when we need them.” He shrugged again as he looked up at the tree. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to surround her with them now. Maybe they’ll work a little celestial magic and help her wake up.”
Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes and before she knew what she was doing Sage placed a hand on his arm for purchase, stretched up on her toes, and kissed his cheek.
“You’re a wonderful grandson.”
Who was more surprised by her actions was debatable, but the moment she pulled back, time stilled around them.
Keith’s forehead turned to slats, the edges of his brows tugging into a thick line between his eyes. A bottomless well of emotion poured from his gaze. Confusion mixed in with surprise and batted up against—if she wasn’t mistaken—a little bead of...hope.
Sage swallowed as his gaze held her prisoner. In truth, she wouldn’t have turned away even if she’d been able to. He’d always looked at her as if he could read her mind, see down to her soul, and know exactly what she was thinking or feeling at any moment. It had made walking away from him that much harder because she had to work twice as hard to shield her true feelings.
Right now she imagined he knew exactly how much she wanted to kiss him, to have him hold her like he used to and tell her she was his world.
The attraction between them hadn’t abated, that was certain. At this moment, like two magnets pulled toward one another, their bodies shifted closer, drawn by a force too powerful to resist. Just as Keith lowered his head, his intent as clear as the blue in his eyes, the day nurse blew into the room.
“Dr. Hamilton? Everything okay in here?”
Sage slammed back
down on her heels at the sound of Deb’s voice. Thankfully, Keith kept his hand over hers on his arm, otherwise she was sure she would have stumbled backward. Nodding, she broke from Keith’s hold when he blinked and glanced over his shoulder at the nurse.
“Fine, Deb. I was just checking on Mrs. Mills.”
The nurse fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m not sure a tree that size is allowed in the patient rooms, Mr. Mills. Plus, it’s real. The hospital has fire codes concerning real trees.”
Defiance and arrogance in his posture, Keith responded with, “It’s already up and no one told me I couldn’t put it here. I’m not taking it down.” He turned back to the tree to continue trimming it.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sage said, attempting to offset and soften the harshness of his tone. “Tell me about Corrine’s night. I haven’t read her chart yet.”
A few minutes later when Deb left them, Sage glared at Keith’s back.
He was still decorating the tree. “I can hear you frowning at me,” he said, never turning around.
“You could be a little less...you, you know.”
With that, he did turn to face her. With his head tilted and his brows doing the creased-look thing again, he asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“Civility goes a long way, is all I’m saying.”
“I’m civil.”
When her eyebrows met her hairline, he shrugged. “Most of the time.”
Sage shook her head, then checked her watch. “I’ve got office hours. I’m assuming you’re going to stay here all day again?”
He nodded as he found a free branch for another angel ornament. “I’m gonna finish this, then I’ve got some work I can do.”
As she slid back into her warm coat, she told him, “I’ll stop by on my way home to check on her. Deb will call the office if anything comes up. And Keith?”