A Miracle for the Reserved Flyboy (Love in Sweet Bloom #11)

Chapter 7

KRISTA

“I must be cursed. That has to be it,” Krista murmured, staring blankly at her phone, half-tempted to throw it across the room. Her father, her dependable, always-there-when-she-needed-him father, was bailing on her for the play. And not just any role—the role of the Rat King. She’d spent weeks preparing for this show, managing an unruly mix of children and parents, adjusting every last detail to perfection. And now, her father—the one person who could save her from this last-minute crisis—was backing out. The costume was ready, even tailored to fit him, right down to the shiny buttons she’d painstakingly sewed on with love. They’d laughed about it, calling it their “Daddy-Daughter Rat Duo.” But despite his reluctance, he had agreed until now.

Her phone felt like a dead weight in her hand as she paced, making one frantic call after another, desperation growing with each voicemail and polite refusal. No one could step in to play the Rat King on such short notice—not with less than twenty- four hours until opening night. The odds seemed stacked against her, leaving Krista battling the familiar panic clawing up her spine.

She couldn’t shake the sensation that her life was slowly unraveling, like a delicate thread coming undone. Her father wasn’t just bailing on a costume and a role. He was leaving her with the impossible task of finding someone to fill his shoes, of altering the costume to fit someone new, and of teaching them all the cues in a single night. And this was only part of her chaos. She still had to make the final preparations for the play, keep up with her teaching duties, cancel Gary’s blind date, and resist falling for the man whose smile had turned her world upside down. A man who was, inconveniently, leaving town the morning after the play.

Her heart felt heavy, weighted down by more than just the failure of a few last-minute plans. It was everything she’d tried so hard to hold together, all coming undone at once. Gritting her teeth, Krista took a deep breath and dialed her father again, determined to pull every heartstring if that’s what it took.

“Daddy, please don’t say no…” she began, the words catching in her throat.

There was a pause, and then his familiar, comforting voice came through the line. “Krista…”

“Daddy, you have to be the Rat King.” Her voice was small, pleading. “I know you didn’t want to do it, but no one else can take your place now.”

He sighed on the other end. “Krista, why do you put yourself through these things? You’ve been stressing yourself over this play for weeks. Why?”

“Because I love it, Daddy! The kids love being in it, and it brings the whole town together. It’s my way of giving back, of creating something that everyone can share. That sense of community— it means everything to me.”

She heard him sigh again, this time longer. “Sweetheart, I understand that. But I just can’t do it. My knees are bothering me more than usual, and I just can’t see myself up on that stage.”

“All you’d have to do is stand beside me, I promise! I’ll say your lines. Just… be there,” she begged, her desperation laced with an edge of panic.

“It’s more than that, honey,” he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Maybe it’s time you let someone else take care of you. You’ve been leaning on your mother and me too much.”

Krista stilled. The words feeling like a betrayal she hadn’t anticipated. “Daddy… it’s not like I’m not trying. I want to build my own life—I just… I’m scared, all right?”

“Sweetheart, you put all your hopes into Tommy, and when that fell apart, you retreated. You built walls around yourself, thinking that’d protect you. But you can’t keep hiding from love. You’re pushing thirty, and you’re still alone.”

She forced herself to laugh, although it sounded hollow to her own ears. “How do we always end up talking about my life, my ‘eggs in a basket,’ every time I need your help?”

“Because I worry about you, baby. I won’t always be here. And as much as it hurts to say, neither will your mother.”

“Please, don’t say that,” she murmured, her heart sinking at the thought.

“It’s the truth, Krista. You’re the last one in your high school class who hasn’t settled down and doesn’t have a little one tugging at her skirt. Even Beary got married. I mean, who’d have thought that little grease monkey would tie the knot before my beautiful daughter?”

“I’m just waiting for the right person,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“No, Krista. You’re not waiting; you’re afraid. And there’s a difference.”

Silence settled between them like a thick blanket, stretching out uncomfortably until she forced herself to bring it back to the play. She could feel her father’s resolve softening, but not enough. “We’ll find a solution at dinner tonight, all right?” he said finally. “I promise I won’t leave you in the lurch. Now, I have to go, baby. See you tonight.”

“Daddy… please…” But the line had already gone dead.

Krista looked around the room, feeling a swell of frustration rising within her. Costumes were scattered everywhere, half-finished props strewn across tables, and the faint smell of freshly painted backdrops filled the air. Her dream of a seamless, heartwarming production was slipping through her fingers.

“What else could go wrong?” she muttered, instantly regretting the question as her phone pinged with a text from her mother.

Dinner at five, sweetheart. I made your favorite.

Krista took a deep breath before replying. Mom, please talk to Daddy about being the Rat King. I really need him to do this. I’m drowning in last-minute details, and I don’t think I’ll make it home by five.

I’ll talk to him. See you at five.

She sighed, rubbing her temples as she texted her friend Mary, who’d been coordinating the blind date she needed to cancel.

Mary, hey, it’s Krista. So sorry, but I need to cancel Gary’s blind date tonight.

The response came swiftly, with the subtlety of a slap.

Are you serious, Krista? Youbeggedme to set up this ‘perfect date with a mysterious pilot.’ Casablanca vibes and everything. And now, you’re canceling? Really?

DON’T YOU EVER ASK ME TO DO ONE OF THESE THINGS AGAIN!

Krista’s heart sank as she read the words, the sting of her friend’s frustration prickling her eyes with tears. Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, her phone beeped with yet another text.

Desperation gripped her as she glanced out the window, almost expecting to see the first few snowflakes falling, as if fate had a twisted sense of humor. The air felt colder suddenly, as though even the weather was conspiring against her.

Was it too much to ask for something to go right just once?

“Now what?”

Hey Krista, I know we talked about discussing things over lunch, but I’ve got to get a few things done before flying out. Can I take a rain check for who knows when?

A sob tore through her as she read Gary’s text. He wasn’t going to be available before he left to sit down and talk again. Coffee last night at the Cozy Cup had been the last time she would see him alone. Last evening had been so wonderful, so nice, that she thought there might have been a spark there as they chatted. His beautiful eyes seemed so warm, so gentle and understanding as they cracked jokes, laughed, and then realized some of their conversations were growing strangely serious. It had been so easy between them, and now it was gone.

Of course. I’m buried with the play anyhow. Hope you have a great evening and be safe when you get back home.

Her fingers hovered over her phone’s screen, her nerves a live wire as she debated the words. The truth she wanted to send was too raw, too vulnerable, and maybe just too late. Instead, she settled on a simpler message, her heart thudding hard in her chest as she typed, fingers shaky.

Let’s keep in touch – eh? I would love to keep talking to a friend, even if that friend is across the world.

She hit send, her eyes glued to the screen, waiting. Waiting for anything. The little dots that signaled he was typing, a word, a laugh, something to show her she wasn’t standing at the edge of a cliff, confessing to a wide, empty silence. But then, the message simply read, “Seen.”

And that was it. No response, no little bubbles, no reassuring words from Gary. Just silence.

A heavy sigh slipped from her lips, the breath carrying all the weight she’d tried to hold back. Her shoulders slumped, her heart dropping into the endless ache that had been building ever since she’d realized that she was falling for him. She forced herself to look around at the chaos of the school’s makeshift backstage area. Costumes lay haphazardly across tables, waiting for last-minute fixes. Paintbrushes dried stiff in water cups, forgotten props scattered here and there. She had too many tasks, a hundred more things to do, yet none of it felt quite real. It was all just noise, a distraction from the emptiness that hollowed out her chest as she stared at her phone screen.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, she thought bitterly, kicking an empty cardboard box across the floor. She hadn’t planned to fall for him, hadn’t wanted to feel so attached. But Gary had slipped past her defenses, winding his way into her thoughts with his easy laugh, that familiar grin, and that genuine kindness that always seemed to show up right when she needed it most. She was helpless to resist. And now, she was realizing with a sick twist of her stomach that he would be gone. She could tell herself that he was only a friend, but she knew it was a lie. He’d somehow become more, a part of her heart she hadn’t meant to give, and now she was stuck with that painful truth: she was falling in love with someone who was leaving.

“Krista, are you all right?” a voice broke through her reverie, jarring her back to the present. It was Mark, the school janitor, looking at her with concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She forced a smile, pushing back the emotion that threatened to spill over. “Just… a lot on my mind,” she mumbled, brushing a stray hair out of her face and returning to the heap of costumes piled beside her.

“Need help with anything? I can haul some of this mess out of here if it’ll make it easier for you.”

She shook her head. “No, no, thank you, though, Mark. I think I’ve got it.”

He nodded and left her alone, but his words lingered. Did she look that lost, that heartbroken? She wished she could tell someone, pour out her feelings, but how could she begin to explain this messy blend of longing and regret? Not when she barely understood it herself.

Krista glanced at her phone once more, almost reflexively. Maybe I should just go to him, she thought, feeling the pull, the almost unbearable urge to tell Gary everything—to pour out the truth, even if he didn’t want it, even if it scared him away to just lay her heart bare before he left for good. But reality sank in. She couldn’t abandon the show. The kids needed her. She had a play to run, her parents waiting for her, and the mounting responsibility that stretched her thin like a thread about to snap.

And dinner tonight, she’d have to beg her father to step into the role of the Rat King, despite his protests, despite her mother’s insistence that he couldn’t do it. She could feel her strength crumbling beneath the pressure, like a dam about to burst. Between her father’s reluctance, the frantic last-minute planning, and the aching void that Gary would leave behind, she didn’t know how she’d make it through.

Who needs sleep anyway? she thought with a wry smile, dragging her tired body through yet another set of tasks.

But no matter how many things she checked off her list, nothing seemed to fill the emptiness. It was like pouring water into a sieve, an endless loop of “keep busy, stay distracted” that couldn’t quiet her heart. Her mind wandered back to that last text she’d sent him, the message left unanswered, and her heart twisted again. Sleep? Sleep was a luxury for people with peaceful minds. And tonight, she’d trade every hour of rest just to hear his voice once more or look into his eyes.

Krista glanced at her watch, feeling a pang of anxiety. She was late—far later than she’d planned. Two texts from her parents lit up her screen, each one a gentle nudge wrapped in worry.

Honey, are you running behind?

I’ll keep dinner warm—be safe.

She muttered under her breath, tucking a strand of glitter-streaked hair behind her ear. “Am I running behind? Ha! Is it December 23rd?”

Her gaze swept across the stage, catching on the last touches she’d added in a final burst of frantic holiday cheer. She adjusted the glitter-laden poinsettias she had painstakingly wrapped around the banisters of the round stage, which stood proudly beneath a small, peaked roof decorated with twinkling lights. The railings sparkled with oversized fake gumdrops crafted from carefully carved pool noodles, their vibrant colors catching the glow of the spotlights above. She’d used a hot glue gun to encrust each poinsettia with glitter, giving them an almost magical shimmer. The sugar plums—two oversized plastic exercise balls rolled in spray glue and glitter—looked like something out of a winter fairy tale, catching every flicker of light with a dazzling sparkle. Her handiwork glittered in every corner, a true winter wonderland—and yet, she knew she’d be dusting sparkles off her clothes and out of her hair for days.

But it was done.

Finally, something had gone right. The setup was ready for the next night’s performance of The Nutcracker . The decorations seemed to come alive under the soft lighting, lending the stage an air of warmth and festivity that matched the spirit of the season. Krista’s heart swelled with pride and relief.

If only she could say the same for everything else. The lingering worry about her father stepping into the role of the Rat King gnawed at her. He’d agreed, but she could never be sure he wouldn’t back out last minute since he’d already tried to once already. And Gary… well, the silence from him had started to feel louder and louder, a weight pressing down on her chest.

A pang of longing washed over her as she thought of him. Maybe after dinner with her family, she’d find a way to track him down and finally speak her mind. She wasn’t sure what she’d say, exactly—she barely understood her own feelings—but whatever it was, it had to come out. Her father was right: she was terrified. The vulnerability of it all made her chest tighten with panic, but something deeper called her to be brave, to take a chance.

Was this love? she wondered, her heart fluttering with the unsteady hope that it might be. Maybe?

But was she terrified?

Abso-freakin-lutely.

She shook out her hair, watching the glitter sprinkle to the floor in a light dusting, then gave herself a quick shake like she was trying to get rid of nerves instead of glitter. The holiday lights around her flickered, and she took one last, long look at the stage before heading toward the car.

Outside, the holiday scene was winding down. A few of the other volunteers bustled around, tying off last-minute decorations or checking on displays. The petting zoo, part of the quaint holiday village setup, looked a little… well, worn. The goats and sheep were snuggled up in their pen, looking scruffy after so many kids’ eager petting. The humble manger scene was also showing signs of wear, its hay-strewn display just a little tired, but charming nonetheless. The manger was ‘managing’ – as her father would say before letting out a little laugh at his own clever saying. Christmas was almost here, and as long as the animals behaved and the reindeer didn’t eat through all the hay meant to soak up “barnyard smells,” they’d make it to Christmas Eve without incident.

At least I hope so, she thought with a small smile, walking past the petting zoo. The comforting scents of pine and hay wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of animals, creating an earthy reminder of the holidays. She’d done her part, and now all that remained was the waiting and remembering her lines.

As she reached into her bag for her phone, she glanced at her hands and winced. Paint, glitter, and glue clung to her fingers, somehow finding their way under her screen protector in stubborn little patches. She swiped the screen, and her heart sank a little as she checked for a message from Gary.

Still nothing.

With a sigh, she quickly typed a message to her mom.

Mom, I’m heading home. Sorry, things were running really late, but it’s ready for tomorrow. Be there in ten! XOXO

Hitting send, she slid her phone back into her pocket and got into her car, feeling the adrenaline and anticipation finally winding down into a weariness that settled into her bones. She leaned back in the driver’s seat for a moment, letting the quiet of the car wrap around her. The night was dark, save for the glow of holiday lights along the street, casting a warm glow against the windows. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, feeling the stillness of the evening seep into her heart.

For a moment, the ache of uncertainty gave way to a flicker of hope.

She was going to have to talk to Gary – period.