Page 68 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“She’s amazing, Holland. She’s funny and smart and a writer.”
“And?”
“And she can’t have kids.”
“Oh.” Holland knew how important it was to Jonah to have a big family. It was something he’d talked about since, well, forever. “Jonah, I’m so sorry.”
Jonah stared at the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the only light in the room other than the stove light on in the kitchen behind them. The presents under the tree reached to almost the middle of the room. Holland and his parents had pulled them out of suitcases and closets after they’d gotten home. They planned on having a traditional White family Christmas, complete with his mom’s waffles and Bing Crosby playing on Holland’s vintage record player. It would be the perfect Christmas morning that he had wanted to give to Bronte.
Somewhere in the pile of paper and ribbon was the gift he had purchased for Bronte. Would he give it to her now? Would she even want it?
Holland picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until she foundWhite Christmasplaying. Bronte’s new favorite.
She muted it and turned back to Jonah. “Do you really love her?”
Did he?
Jonah let the question hang in the air between them. He’d thought so. He’d thought he’d fallen so completely in love with Bronte that nothing could have changed it, but then she’d told him she couldn’t have kids. That couldn’t be right. God wouldn’t give him the perfect woman at the cost of his biggest dream, would He? “I thought I did.”
“But that love was all contingent on what she could or couldn’t give you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Holland made him sound like a jerk.
“It sure sounds like it.”
Anger burned in Jonah’s chest, but he couldn’t figure out if he was angry at Holland, himself, or God. He leaned more toward anger at himself. Had his love for Bronte really come with contingencies? He didn’t feel like it had, but did Bronte feel like he’d cast her aside just like Brad had?
“Right. So, how’s the Army life?”
“Whiplash on the subject change much, Holland?” He was grateful for the change yet wished it had been to any other topic. He’d only gone from one thing he wanted to be sick about to another.
Instead of answering, he engrossed himself in watching Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye dance across the screen, singing about sisters.
“That good, huh?”
“I’m up for reenlistment.”
His sister shrugged, eyes never moving from the TV. “So, don’t reenlist.”
“But if I don’t reenlist, I retire and take over the clinic.”
Holland’s gaze swung to him. “I thought that was the plan. I thought you wanted to be on Jonathon Island.”
Jonah looked over his shoulder. Why did his sister have to be so loud? “I do want to be on Jonathon Island, but I don’t think I’m cut out for being a doctor for the rest of my life.”
Holland shrugged again and turned back to the movie. “So, you tell Dad.”
“I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Holland.” Jonah groaned. “This has been the plan for me since I was born. I’m not sure I even had any options other than becoming a doctor. When I talked it over with Amy a couple years ago, she told me it’d break Dad’s heart if I didn’t take over the clinic.”
“First of all,” Holland said as she jabbed him in the side with her finger, “I can’t believe you talked this over with Amy before you told me. I can’t believe you’ve been struggling with this by yourself for so long.”
Jonah held up his hands. “Sorry.”
“And secondly”—Holland held up two fingers—“you went into the Army because that’s what you told Mom and Dad you wanted.”
