Love Finds You in the City at Christmas

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Love Finds You in the City at Christmas Page 25

by Anna Schmidt


  The intercom buzzed, and she absentmindedly released the outer door without pausing to check who was there. She was expecting Mary. They had a long-standing tradition that whenever possible her friend would go with her to the airport and see her off. Mary was also a marvel at making sure she had everything she needed—passport, medicines, tickets—before she left the loft.

  She glanced at the clock. Mary was early. Maybe she’d heard something about traffic and knew they would need extra time. She opened the door to her loft so Mary could just walk in and then hurried back to the part of the open space she had partitioned off with bookshelves as her bedroom. “Coffee’s still hot, or at least warm,” she called when she heard a light tap at the door. “Just finishing—” She turned and saw Max standing in the doorway. He looked as if he’d just run a marathon.

  He dropped the military issue duffel he was carrying and held out his arms. She did not hesitate for even a second but ran to him, burrowing her face against his chest, where his heartbeat pounded out its rhythm against her ear. She could not remember a time when she had felt more secure in her life.

  “I was wondering,” he said softly, “if that job is still open.”

  She leaned back so she could see his face. “You’re serious?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” He smiled. “I’ve tried saving the world my way. It didn’t work out. So I got to thinking that maybe you had another way . . . a better way.”

  “You’ll come with us? For the whole six months?”

  “I’ll come with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

  She glanced down at his duffel bag. “You’re ready to leave today?”

  “If there’s still a seat on the plane.”

  She nodded. The mission traveled on a UN cargo plane that carried supplies as well as the members of her team, and there was plenty of room. But his sudden change of heart triggered Sarah’s innate caution. “Max, I . . .”

  He put his finger to her lips to silence her. “I know it’s too soon for happily ever after, Sarah, but how are we ever going to know for sure if we don’t give it a shot?”

  She so wanted this to work. The truth was that she had wanted someone like Max to share her life with—and her life’s work—for far longer than she had allowed herself to admit. “Tell me what changed.”

  She expected an exasperated sigh. She expected him to release her and look away as he tried to put together the words it would take to convince her. Instead he tightened his hold on her and gazed down at her.

  “I met a man and his grandson this morning. They were Iraqis. The boy lost his entire family, and the grandfather lost his son and other grandchildren. And yet when they saw my fatigues, they wanted to tell me their story—they wanted to thank me as a representative of the American military. At some point in that boy’s life, a soldier made a difference, and I had to wonder how many such stories there are. We were just doing our jobs—our duty and yet . . .”

  “You changed lives.”

  “In the process of our real mission . . . yeah.” He told her about his encounter with the girl and her baby. “I never knew if the child was her brother or her son,” he said. “I never knew what happened to her.”

  “We could try to locate her,” Sarah said. “My connections at the UN could help.”

  Max shook his head. “No. It’s pure selfishness for me to want to know. Better to use time and resources to help others, don’t you think?”

  Never in the weeks she had been with him had she been closer to declaring her love for him, and yet such feelings had not yet been tested. She bit her lower lip. He read the gesture as doubt and released her.

  “Sarah, if you’d rather I didn’t . . .”

  “I want you to come. I need you to be there.”

  “Because you’re a man short?” This time his smile was bittersweet.

  “Because I was trying to imagine going without you and I wasn’t succeeding.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

  “I love you, Sarah Peterson,” he whispered before kissing her back.

  Behind them, the freight elevator groaned into action, but Sarah barely noticed. Max loved her and no, that love had not been tested, but perhaps they had to start by admitting their feelings openly.

  They were still standing in the open doorway when the elevator ground to a stop. The metal door opened and Mary stepped out. Seeing them, she turned and got back on the elevator, obviously prepared to head back downstairs until she thought it proper to return.

  “No, wait,” Sarah called out before Mary could make her escape. “Max is going with me.”

  Tentatively Mary exited the elevator. “To the airport?”

  “On the mission.”

  “Well, that is good news.” But Mary was looking at Sarah as if she wanted to take her aside for a private discussion of the matter.

  “I love him, Mary, and he loves me. We’re going to try and make this work.” She certainly had not meant to direct those words at someone else the first time she admitted her feelings aloud. She glanced up at Max, who was grinning now as if he’d just won the lottery.

  “And we will,” he added. “You can trust me, Mary. I would never hurt Sarah.”

  There was an uncomfortable moment during which Mary seemed to wrestle with her concerns. Finally she spoke. “Is this the place where I give the two of you my blessing?”

  They both nodded.

  Mary spread her arms wide. “Group hug,” she announced.

  * * * * *

  While Mary stepped outside into the hallway to call Ned and tell him the news and Sarah went to finish packing, Max wandered into the galley kitchen. He turned off the coffeemaker after pouring himself a cup and stood at the window that opened onto the fire escape, staring out at the place where the towers had once stood.

  “Max? You can’t mean to give me this.” Sarah was holding the box he’d given her that morning in one hand and his Purple Heart in the other.

  He set down his empty coffee cup and took the medal from her. It was indeed a small purple heart framed by a gold border and engraved with a profile depiction of George Washington when he was a general. At the top of the medal was Washington’s coat of arms—a white shield featuring two red bars and three red stars set between sprays of green leaves. The medal hung from a deep purple ribbon. “You were supposed to wait.”

  “But you’re here now so I thought— Max, this is too much.”

  “I want you to have it. At first I planned on giving it to you because I believed you were going into battle. I believed you had already done battle with the forces of evil.”

  “And what’s changed?”

  “Do you remember what the history books taught us about George Washington? ‘First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen’?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You are first in my heart, Sarah, and this is my very non-traditional attempt to give my love for you a tangible symbol.” But then he realized that she probably would far rather have something more romantic—a heart-shaped pendant, perhaps. He closed his fist around the medal. “I wasn’t thinking . . . Grace has always said that when it comes to romance, I am a total clod. If we leave now, maybe we can stop by a jeweler’s and get you something you like.”

  “Okay, two things: Number one, I don’t need symbols, Max. And number two, I think you may be putting the cart before the horse.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Are you asking me to make a commitment here, and if so, what are the ground rules?”

  “I’m asking you to build a life with me. If you agree there can be no ground rules other than that if there is ever a time when you change your mind . . .”

  “What if you change your mind?”

  “I won’t.”

  “You’re that sure?”

  He smiled. “I think I was that sure Thanksgiving night when you showed up at my parents’ house after walking several blocks in the cold because you were too kind to let th
e cabbie know that he had made a mistake.”

  She set the box down and slowly unfurled his fist until the medal lay flat on his palm. “Then this is all I will ever need in the way of symbols, and I will wear it with pride.”

  She turned away from him and fumbled with the clasp on the medal and her blouse. When she turned back, the medal was nowhere in sight. In answer to the question obvious in his raised eyebrows, she pointed to a place just above her heart. “It’s here,” she assured him. “It always will be.”

  They were kissing again when Mary came back inside the loft from the hallway. She cleared her throat loudly. “Time to go,” she muttered as she headed for the kitchen, where she dumped the last of her coffee. “And we have to leave, as in right now, or you are never going to make your flight.” She grasped the handle of Sarah’s rolling bag. “Come along, children,” she called as she pressed the elevator button.

  * * * * *

  Sarah had fallen asleep almost the minute the plane took off. Her head was resting against Max’s shoulder, and he marveled at the way the two of them fit together so perfectly. He stared out the window at the black night and then he saw it in the distance. A star in the eastern sky . . . one they would follow to their new life. Their new life together.

  About the Author

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  ANNA SCHMIDT is the award-winning author of over twenty-five works of historical and contemporary fiction with over one million books sold. Her most recent works include the Women of Pinecraft series: A Stranger’s Gift (4-½ stars from RT Book Reviews); A Sister’s Forgiveness (an RT Book Reviews Top Pick); and A Mother’s Promise (4 stars from RT Book Reviews).

  Anna’s novel, A Convenient Wife, earned her a third nomination for the coveted RITA Award for Inspirational Fiction from Romance Writers of America as well as the Holt Medallion Award for Short Inspirational Fiction. She has also been a finalist in the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice awards four times and won twice. She splits her time between Wisconsin and Florida and gets to New York whenever she can.

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