Currant Creek Valley(92)
In some corner of her mind, she knew she should protest but he felt so wonderful—strong, steady, solid—and she couldn’t resist. He held her for a long time while she wept and she was vaguely aware of a light pressure as he kissed the top of her head softly, as he might a child who had come to him with a bad dream.
The moment was almost unbearably tender.
“You need to forgive yourself, Alexandra,” he said, his voice low. “Take it from a man who went through a pretty rough time after a few missions, where I second-guessed decisions, my own and others. People make mistakes. You can either let it eat away at you from the inside until you’re hollowed out and have nothing good left. Or you can learn to accept that none of us can change our past. All we can do is move forward and make something better out of the rest of our days.”
His words resonated with truth. She had blamed herself for too long. It was time to let go, to embrace what she had done with her life in the years since and the person she had become.
Sam had moved forward. He had come from a rough childhood and had made something of his life by serving his country. He had fallen in love, married, then had lost his wife tragically.
Many men might have become bitter and railed at fate, yet Sam had this core of goodness in him that made him push past the disappointments and sadness and seek out something better for his son than he had experienced.
To a man like him who had known both the horrors of war and a tumultuous personal life, the quiet streets and quaint houses of Hope’s Crossing must represent unimaginable peace.
She couldn’t let him leave this place he already loved. She didn’t want to go, either, but how could she stay?
“For a long time, I thought the fact that I can’t have more children was punishment for my mistakes.”
“I hope you know better now.”
“I think some things just happen. Not for a reason, not as some punishment from a higher power, not as part of some master plan. They just are.”
“You can still be a mother, you know.”
With his arms still around her, he shifted so she could see his face, and in the pale light on the porch, he looked serious and intense. “I know a certain seven-year-old boy who could use someone like you in his life.”
“Sam.” She clamped down hard on the wild joy fighting to flutter through her again at the implication behind his words.
“No. Listen to me. You keep telling me how you’re not what I need, what Ethan needs. Let me tell you all the reasons I think you’re wrong.”
She couldn’t bear this. How could she possibly push him away again when everything within her wanted to stay right here in his arms?
“You make me laugh,” he said. “I haven’t laughed in so long. Even before Kelli got sick, I was so busy being a husband and father and a good soldier that I didn’t often pause to just savor each moment. When I touch you, when I see you, when I simply think about you, I’m happy.”
She wanted to block out his words, knowing they would only make this harder, but each one seemed to imprint itself on her heart.
“You treat my son with respect and affection and see beyond that brain of his to the reality that despite it, he’s still just a boy who loves brownies and dogs and having fun.”
“He’s a wonderful boy, Sam. How can anyone who meets him help but love him?”
“He doesn’t respond to everyone the way he has to you, believe me. He can be stiff, awkward, even downright rude. But when you talk to him, he knows your interest is genuine.”
He paused and his hand caressed her cheek with such sweetness she almost cried again. “You care about everyone like that. You tell me how prickly and difficult you are. I see a woman who gives her love freely and generously. Who prepares food for people who can’t take care of themselves, who helps a dying friend with her garden, who takes in a dirty, bedraggled stray dog because that’s just the kind of person she is.”
Leo, curled up at their feet, slapped his tail against the floor of the porch, almost as if he understood Sam was talking about him.
“I love you, Alexandra. Nothing you’ve told me tonight changes that. I love you in spite of all the reasons you think I shouldn’t. In part, maybe, because of those reasons. You’re the person you are today because of everything that has happened to you.”
She gazed at him in the slanted moonlight as his words and the tenderness in his eyes seemed to slide through her, shining the brilliant beacon of hope in all those dark corners.
He loved her. He knew the very worst about her but somehow he loved her anyway. This man, who understood all about pain and loss and regret, was offering her a miraculous chance to move beyond the hurt.