Page 48 of The Bachelor's Dilemma

“He’s about a week old here,” she said, pointing to the picture.

Slowly, she gave a brief comment on each picture as they leafed through the album. To Myles’s delight, she noted memorial events. Here was the photo of Zack’s first tooth. Looked like a lot of gum to Myles, but Anna assured him that tiny speck on the lower gum was a tooth that had just broken through.

She had several of him standing, looking astonished.

“Here’s when he took his first step. These are just still shots. I can show you the video on my phone.”

The little boy had been by the sofa, moving toward the camera. The video showed the tottering steps and the crash landing on his diapered bottom. It touched Myles’ heart. He wished he’d been there to celebrate the milestone.

There were also locks of hair and hand prints and footprints from his one-month checkup, notations of his height and weight at each doctor’s visit.

Myles studied each photograph, asking her questions through all the pictures. Slowly, they moved through almost four years’ worth of photos in the two albums. There was a gap when Zack first turned three, when Tom had died. It had been weeks before Anna had felt up to taking pictures and was able to do so without tears blurring her vision.

The memories were bittersweet, but she went through both albums with Myles. It was her life with Zack recorded, even though Tom was now gone. She was glad she had all the pictures she did of Tom with Zack.

“My goodness, it’s after ten. You weren’t bored, were you?” she asked when she closed the second album.

“Not at all. You’re doing a good job raising him. It can’t be easy as a solo parent. I know he’s run me ragged these two days.”

She put the book on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushions.

“Sometimes I wonder how I can do it. Other times I wouldn’t change a thing. He’s the light of my life.”

“Did you ever want more children?”

“Tom and I talked about having three, but it wasn’t to be. How about you? How many kids do you want?”

“I never planned on getting married. That might change, however.” Myles looked at her. “Would you go out with me Saturday night—to dinner? Maybe dancing if I can find a place. Just you and me.”

Anna felt her heart rate increase. This would be a date. No camouflaging it with a little boy as a buffer. No confusing the issue by saying they were just going on a picnic as new acquaintances or bumping into each other at the park.

An honest-to-goodness date.

“Yes, I’d like to,” she replied.

Then a wave of panic doused her. What was she thinking? She glanced at the nearest picture of Tom.

“I hate that,” Myles said.

She looked at him. “What?”

“You look at his picture all the time. As if asking permission, or forgiveness for moving on. How long are you going to depend on a dead man? How long are you going to live in the past? He sounds like he was a wonderful person who loved you a lot. But he’s gone, never to come back. I wish you would acknowledge that and move on.”

Anna felt as if he’d slapped her.

“I don’t depend on a dead man, as you so crudely put it. He was my husband. I loved him dearly. I miss him.”

She jumped up and crossed to the window, staring out into the darkness. How dare Myles say she was stuck in the past.

“I know that makes you angry. But look at it from my point of view. Every time I kiss you, I feel he’s right there in the middle of us. I want to treat you like a woman, yet I feel we have a chaperon in our midst. I know he was a good man. A loving husband and father. But he’s gone and you’re not. You need to make a new life for yourself, not live in some kind of time lock.”

“I know that. He was my husband. Am I supposed to forget he existed? I have made a new life. I have a job, a new apartment. I’m doing the best I can. Maybe if you’d ever been deeply in love and lost, you’d understand. But you sound like you’re too afraid to form attachments. Moving around like you do makes it convenient to keep everyone at a distance. Well, I’m coping the best I can.”

“It’s been more than a year. Surely you’ve made some closure. Come to terms with it.”

“I have,” she said with dignity. Then frowned. “I think. Besides, there’s no time limit on grief. We had planned to spend our lives together.”

He rose and moved to stand beside her, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth from her body, to smell the sweet scent she wore.

---