Anna's Courage (Rose Island Book 1) (26 page)

My heart was breaking, but he’d already moved on. He didn’t want me anymore, and my pride and self-worth prevented me from staying on the phone, begging him to love me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Of course. I understand.” I lifted my chin and nodded into the phone. “I’ll be starting college classes in January, so I need to figure some things out with my schedule and transcripts. And my parents are here. I’ll be busy with them through the holidays. My dad—”

“I’m sorry, Anna.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. It’s fine. I’m fine. Honestly, I understand.”

He said something to Hailey, and I must’ve told him good-bye, but when the dial tone sounded in my ear, I was still clinging to the phone, wondering what I’d done to lose him.

And what I was supposed to do to get over him?

T
hat night, I
cried quietly into my pillow, not wanting Travis or my parents to hear my grief. Several times, I thought about running next door and begging Nick to take me and Travis with him to Germany. But then I’d think about all I’d have to give up, and I knew I could never leave the island.

Plus, Nick hadn’t even asked me to come. In fact, he’d done the exact opposite by breaking up with me. I needed to accept that it was over and move on with my life.

In the morning, a headache kept me home from church and family brunch at the ranch. I took an ibuprofen and slept for several hours. When I awoke, I listened to the voice mail my parents had left, saying they were taking Travis and his cousins hiking near the Rose Mansion.

I showered, grateful my headache was gone. I dried my hair, put on makeup, and biked to the supermarket, determined to put Nick and my broken heart behind me. At the store, I gathered ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Travis and my parents might return with no appetite, but I could save the dish for tomorrow.

As I stood in the checkout line, I thought about Ivana’s caramel turtle cheesecake. I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at the picture of the recipe. It would be easy to collect the ingredients while still at the store.

Maybe I could make the cake for Nick and the girls and leave it on their front porch. Would Nick think I was some kind of deranged stalker if I did that? Or would he accept the gift for what it was . . . a simple token of my affection.

Before I could change my mind, I raced up and down the aisles, gathering the ingredients. Just because I bought everything to make the dessert, didn’t mean I had to follow through. Besides, maybe I’d let Travis and my parents enjoy it.

On the ride home, I fought off depression by going through my gratitude list. I had so much to be grateful for—my health, my family, the island, my job.

What about flying?
a voice deep inside me asked.

“I can’t do it,” I whispered.

Have courage.

Standing up to pedal, I rode as fast as I could, resolute on escaping the truth that not only had God given me the gift to fly, but the means to do it.

On their own accord, my lips began to chant a Bible verse I’d learned as a child.
The Lord is with me, I will not be afraid
.
The Lord is with me, I will not be afraid.

As my house came into view, the wind kicked up, making the last leg of the journey nearly impossible. I pushed hard on the pedals, trying to out race the storm, but the sky opened and hard raindrops pinged my helmet and the back of my neck.

Hunched over, I flew down the seashell path, mud and bits of shells splattering my legs. I quickly stowed my bike, grabbed the groceries, and headed toward the steps.

“Let me help you,” Nick said, coming up behind me.

I whirled around, surprised to see him. He took the groceries out of my hands and led the way. His wet jeans clung to his strong thighs as he took the stairs two at a time.

Inside the house, Yoda barked relentlessly at the sight of us. “I’ll take him outside,” Nick said, brushing past me and setting the groceries on the kitchen counter.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Ignoring me, he scooped up the puppy and went outside. I stood still, too shocked to move. What was Nick doing here? Why had he come?

Smoothing down my soaked T-shirt, I went into the kitchen and threw the perishables into the refrigerator. Moments later, Nick returned with Yoda, both of them drenched.

The wet dog scampered across the kitchen floor, elated to see me. Leaning over, I petted Yoda, grateful for his enthusiasm and unconditional love.

“
Anna,
” Nick said.

My heart in my throat, I stood and met his gaze. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out the window. I held my breath waiting for him to tell me why he was standing in my kitchen. Did he regret what he’d said on the phone last night? Did he still care about me?

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he finally said. “You weren’t at church today and—”

“You went to church this morning?”

He gave a half-hearted grin. “Two Sundays in a row, can you believe it? But more than that . . . I’ve asked God to come back into my life again. I realize I can’t be a father without His help. I have to rely on His strength, because I’m not strong enough on my own anymore.”

“Nick, that’s wonderful.”

He nodded but made no mention of asking God’s hand in our relationship. “So, you’re okay?”

My throat felt raw, and I swallowed hard before answering. “I had a headache this morning, but I’m fine now.” My voice broke on the last word, revealing how
not
fine I actually was. Tears followed and I swiped them away, not wanting to cry in front of him.

Without a word, he stepped toward me and took me in his arms. I collapsed against him, pressing my cheek to his chest. Breathing in his spicy scent, I savored the moment, wanting to believe our love could overcome any obstacle, including a long-distance separation.

But I had no right to place those kinds of demands on him. He didn’t owe me anything. He’d never made promises of quitting the army or finding a way for us to be together. He’d never even said he loved me.

“What is it?” he asked, the question scraping my soul.

Didn’t he know he was breaking my heart? I wet my lips and took a deep breath. “I love you, Nick. I do. I can’t imagine not seeing you and the girls every day. You’ve become part of my life, and I’m terrified of losing you.”

“Come with me,” he said, his voice husky and urgent.

My heart lifted. “What?”

“I want you and Travis to come with me.”

I didn’t understand. “You want to get married?”

Sheer panic marred his face, revealing that marriage was the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment, and I didn’t blame him. We hardly knew each other. You couldn’t pledge to love, honor, and cherish someone you’d just met.

He surprised me by nodding emphatically. “Yes. If you want to get married, then let’s get married.”

My blood ran cold. “If
I
want to get married?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together, but I don’t want to lose you. So, let’s get married.”

Resentment filled me. “Not wanting to lose me isn’t a reason to get married.”

He cringed. “I know.”

“And that’s not even the right way to propose to someone,” I said, my indignation building. “Do you know how degrading you sound?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Will you marry me, Anna?”

“No,” I said, not quite understanding my anger, but feeling it nevertheless.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not really asking me. This is not a
real
marriage proposal.”

He flinched, and then without warning, he pulled me close and covered my mouth with his. I wanted to resist, afraid of masking our issues with physical intimacy. But as he deepened the kiss, I leaned into him and kissed him back.

Images of Marcus’s coffin marched through my head. I remembered receiving the flag, folded into a tight triangle. Remembered the sound of taps, the rifle salute, and Travis’s little hand, clinging to mine. I also remembered the devastating loneliness of that first night and the nights that followed.

How was I supposed to do this again? How was I supposed to risk it? I’d been stupid to fall in love with another soldier. Did he expect me to give up everything I wanted and follow him around as he pursued his dreams? What about my dreams?

“Anna, I’m an idiot,” he moaned against my mouth. “Come with me. Marry me.”

I pulled away and shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t want to be married to a soldier. I’ve served my time. I made the sacrifice for my country, and I won’t do it again.”

All the color drained from his face as he stared openmouthed at me. Stepping back, he shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re asking me to give up my livelihood. To quit the army and be a different person. Is that what you really want from me?”

“I don’t know.” I blinked several times.

What did I want from him? Was I really asking him to resign his commission? To give up his dreams and principles for me?

Or was that simply an excuse to protect my heart from someone who’d only proposed because I’d burst into tears? Not because he truly loved me.

*

I began the
next morning with a gut-wrenching cry in the shower. Later, I looked at my red, puffy eyes in the bathroom mirror and knew there was no hiding my pain today. Christmas was two days away, then Nick and the girls would leave and things would get easier.

Before I knew it, a new family would move next door, and memories of the Peterson family would fade. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Unable to sleep last night, I’d made Ivana’s cheesecake but hadn’t decided what to do with it. Maybe this morning, I’d crawl back into bed with a large pot of coffee, a fork, and the entire cheesecake, eating until I made myself sick.

Walking into the kitchen, I found Travis at the table wearing a stocking cap, winter coat, and cargo shorts. “Grams and Pop went for a walk along the beach,” he announced. “Pop said if he didn’t keep exercising, he wouldn’t be able to fit into his Santa costume.”

I studied my son carefully. “His Santa costume? What are you talking about?”

Travis rolled his eyes. “Come on, Mom. Stop pretending. I figured out a long time ago that Pop plays Santa at church.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“That kind of makes me sad. Does this mean you no longer believe in Santa?”

He snickered and took a sip of his orange juice. “No, I still believe. I’m not stupid. I know what happens when kids stop believing.”

I smiled sadly and ruffled his hair. Peering out the window at the Petersons’ house, I waited for Nick to come outside and lean against the porch railing as he drank his morning coffee.

“Nick took Hailey and Gabby to Dallas for Christmas,” Travis announced. “Pop and I talked to them this morning when we went fishing.”

My stomach twisted as I stared at the vacant house. The rolling shutters had been lowered and the patio furniture covered. “They’re not staying on the island for Christmas?”

“Nope. They want to go ice skating on real ice at the Galleria and see a show downtown. Plus, Hailey wants to see her new bedroom at Grandpa Jack’s house. And this time, the puppies are staying at the vet’s.”

I turned my attention to the gray ocean where a single boat rocked on the waves. The sky above was dark and eerie. Sometime during the middle of the night, the heat had kicked on, but it was still cold inside our house. Shivering, I crossed the kitchen and turned up the thermostat.

It hurt to learn that Nick would not be spending Christmas on the island. Had I angered him so much, I’d forced him to leave? Blinking back tears, I turned on the coffeemaker and watched my son run his spoon through one of the rough gouges in the kitchen table.

Could Travis and I drag the table onto the back porch, sand it down, and re-stain it this morning without my parents thinking I’d lost my mind?

“Can we bake Christmas cookies?” Travis asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I pressed a hand to my chest. If I’d known how painful losing Nick would feel, would I have been more careful?

Probably not because the truth was you couldn’t always help who you fell in love with, and I’d definitely fallen in love with Nick Peterson.

But that was over, and now it was time to move forward with my life. Indulging in a high carb, high sugar pity party sounded a lot more fun and practical than disrupting my kitchen with a major refurbishing project.

“How about a piece of caramel turtle cheesecake,” I said, opening the refrigerator.

“Umm . . . I thought you made that for Nick.”

I stared at the empty shelf where I’d placed the cheesecake last night. “Travis?”

“Sorry, Mom. You told me not to eat it because you were making it for Nick.”

“Where is it?”

“I gave it to him before he left.”

I closed my eyes. “What’d he say?”

Travis shrugged. “Not much. Just ‘thanks’ and ‘it looks good.’ I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t realize you wanted to eat it yourself. I thought—”