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

Chapter 8

CASANOVA

Gary took a deep, steadying breath as he stood on the front porch, trying to summon every ounce of courage he possessed. The last few minutes had been a blur—Cajun had dropped him off, and the creeping realization that Margie might have deceived him hit him like a bucket of ice water. What if Margie had lied, weaving an elaborate story to mess with him? She could’ve been some bitter woman out for revenge, creating an entire plan to mess with his head. And he’d fallen for it all—every word that slipped from her lips, every assurance she’d given him. He’d crafted responses, written heartfelt explanations, and even drafted apologies he’d painstakingly saved, all lined up in his email drafts, ready to send at the click of a button.

“Sweet baby Jesus…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and taking another deep breath. With one last whispered prayer, he reached up and knocked on the door, bracing himself for whatever lay ahead.

The door creaked open, and standing before him was a woman who could only be Krista’s mother. She had the same gentle curls, swept back in a different style, and wore a light mauve eyeshadow instead of Krista’s usual neutral shades. Yet, the resemblance was unmistakable—the warmth in her gaze, the delicate lines around her eyes.

“Mrs. Simpson?” he ventured, his voice more tentative than he’d intended.

“Yes?” she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“My name is Gary Rutlinger, and I’m… well, I’m a friend of your daughter’s…” he began but barely had the words left his mouth before the woman’s face lit up with an expression of pure delight. In a heartbeat, she had shoved open the storm door with surprising force, sending him stumbling back against the brick wall in the small alcove of the porch.

“Say that again, young man?” she demanded, her tone eager.

“I… I’m a friend of your daughter’s, and?—”

“Merciful heavens! I knew the girl had it in her!” Mrs. Simpson exclaimed, her eyes twinkling as she reached out, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. She squinted, examining his face, and then pinched his cheeks with a motherly zeal that left him chuckling nervously. “Let me get a good look at you! Honey! HONEY! Come here—QUICK! Krista’s got herself a young man here, and he’s a cutie-patootie if I ever saw one!”

“Ma’am…” Gary tried, but her excitement was unstoppable.

“Oh, just let me look at you,” she insisted, sizing him up with a critical eye. “Pretty eyes, no bald spot, no receding hairline… and those freckles! Adorable, though I’m sure Krista would prefer them on a toddler…” She stepped back slightly, her gaze softening, then paused as a thought seemed to dawn on her. “Oh dear, you aren’t that type of friend… are you?”

“Actually, I’d really like to discuss a few things with you,” he managed to get out, steadying himself as she released her grip on his shirt.

Her curiosity sharpened instantly. “About Krista?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Just then, a tall figure appeared in the doorway, looking mildly irritated as he assessed the situation. “What’s all this commotion about?” the man asked, his tone brisk. “We’re not buying anything. I’ve already found God, and can’t you read the ‘No Soliciting’ sign? It’s Christmas, so I’ll give you to the count of three…”

“Martin…” Mrs. Simpson interjected, rolling her eyes.

“Fine, Christmas spirit and all that. I’ll give you to ten…” he grumbled, clearly set on his plan of ejecting Gary.

“Martin!” she repeated, voice rising.

“What, honey?”

She leaned closer to him, cupping her hand as if sharing a conspiratorial secret. “I think he might be sweet on Krista,” she whispered, her eyes widening with excitement.

Gary watched as Mr. Simpson’s brow lifted, his expression softening as he glanced between his wife and Gary. He gave a small nod toward Gary as if to say, “This guy?” His wife nodded emphatically, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“Well now,” Mr. Simpson cleared his throat, crossing his arms and looking Gary over more appraisingly. “What did you say your name was?”

“Gary, sir.”

There was a beat of silence as Mr. Simpson considered him. “What can I help you with?”

Gary felt his stomach twist, but he forged ahead. “Well, I’d like to… discuss asking for her…” he began, nerves stealing his words. The weight of what he was about to say hung in the air like the softest snowfall.

But before he could get it all out, Mrs. Simpson gasped loudly, clutching a hand to her chest. “Oh, land sakes alive!” she cried, swaying dramatically before sinking into a faint. Gary moved quickly, catching her just in time, holding her steady as Mr. Simpson let out an exasperated sigh, gently patting her cheek to rouse her.

It was obvious the woman was faking because she shook her head ‘no,’ and then a frown line appeared between her eyebrows. Mr. Simpson looked at him, met his gaze, and then rolled his eyes before waving him inside since he still had the woman in his arms. For a long moment, there was only the sound of the cold winter wind whistling through the trees, the scent of pine and holiday warmth from inside the house mingling with the crispness of the night air. And in the middle of it all, Gary felt his heart swell, a feeling of quiet determination settling over him. Because, somehow, in the chaotic whirlwind of laughter, nerves, and glittering holiday cheer, he knew he was right where he was supposed to be.

“Sir, I’d like to talk to you about your daughter’s future,” Gary began, offering a disarming smile as he caught the surprise in the older man’s eyes – still holding her mother’s ‘limp’ form in his arms. He felt her tense slightly and almost burst out laughing wildly.

Apparently, acting ran in the family.

“And please, don’t faint—I don’t think I can carry both of you inside.” He chuckled, hoping a touch of humor would soften the moment.

Krista’s father sized him up, eyebrows raised, but an approving glint danced in his gaze. “I think that’s a fine idea, son. Have you had supper yet?” His voice held a warmth that Gary hadn’t expected, and it steadied him.

“Thank you, sir, but please, call me Gary.”

“Gary,” he repeated with a nod. “Well, I was just putting on a fresh pot of coffee. No rush, are you?”

“Not at all, sir,” Gary replied, feeling his nerves ease.

“Good, good,” he said thoughtfully. “Krista won’t be back until six, so we’ve got some time. Let’s sit and talk a bit, just us men. Coffee sound good?”

“Fantastic, sir.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black, sir.”

The man paused mid-pour, studying him for a moment. “Military man, I take it?”

Gary nodded, surprised by his perceptiveness. “Yes, sir. How did you know?”

He chuckled. “Well, I served myself for a few years, back in the tail end of the Vietnam War, stationed out in U-Tapao, Guam.” He nodded toward Gary’s neck. “I hear the jingle of those dog tags of yours… figured either that or you came here with bells on.”

Gary laughed, his respect for Krista’s father deepening. “A little of both, I suppose.”

The older man smirked, pursing his lips with a thoughtful expression, and there was a gentleness in his eyes that hinted at fond memories and a little mischief. “Well, Gary, glad to have you here.” He turned and called into the house, “Honey, if you’re done pretending to faint, would you like a cup with some of that gingerbread creamer you love?”

A faint groan sounded from a nearby armchair, and a petite woman slowly sat up, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes twinkled with both humor and approval as she looked at Gary with a smile that could only mean one thing—he’d passed some sort of test.

“Gingerbread spice,” she murmured, cracking one eye open, her face lighting up with a warm smile as she met Gary’s gaze. “I like you already. Noble, strong, and polite enough to catch a fainting woman,” she teased. “Very nice touch. Do you know, my mother did the exact same thing to my Martin here, back when he came to ask about marrying me? She looked at him like he was already family.”

Gary chuckled, feeling the weight of the moment lift as he took in her kindness. “Did she now?”

“Oh, she sure did,” she replied, her voice tinged with the nostalgia of a happy memory. “God rest Mama’s sweet soul. She took one look at Martin and called him ‘son’ right then and there.”

“Well,” Gary said with a gentle laugh, “I hope I can live up to that.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” she replied, reaching over to pat his hand with warmth and a smile that said more than words ever could. “Now, how about a cookie with that coffee, sweetie?” She gestured to the table. “Come, sit down with us. We’ll all have a little chit-chat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gary said, settling into the cozy space, feeling strangely at home. Here, among Krista’s family, he sensed that he was becoming a part of something bigger, something deeply meaningful—and he couldn’t have been happier.

Ten minutes after arriving, Gary found himself in the living room, firmly in the hot seat. Krista’s parents were warm yet unwavering, their questions sharp and straight to the point. Her father eyed him carefully, his gaze like a steady searchlight trained to find any potential cracks. Krista's mom observed with a subtle, knowing smile as if she already knew what he’d say next. He couldn’t help but feel how alike they were to his own family—fiercely loyal, deeply caring, and unabashedly protective.

They reminded him of home.

“So, you’re in the Air Force,” her dad started, his voice steady, assessing. “What is it you do, exactly?”

“I’m a pilot, sir. I fly a fighter jet,” Gary replied, sitting up a little straighter, willing himself to make a good impression. This wasn’t a simple job description; it was part of who he was.

Her dad raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed but not giving much away. “Where are you stationed?”

“Afghanistan, sir.”

Krista’s mom exchanged a concerned glance with her husband, but it was her father who leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “And my daughter… she knows this?”

“Yes, sir. She’s aware of my position, the travel, the deployments. It hasn’t been easy,” he admitted, not willing to sugarcoat it, “but she knows.”

Her dad exhaled, weighing Gary’s words before he nodded. But his face quickly hardened with his next question. “And you’re not planning on dragging my daughter into some whirlwind of…?”

Before her father could finish, Gary held up a respectful hand, determined to speak his piece. “Sir, with all due respect, I know what you’re about to say. And honestly, Krista and I… well, we have a lot to discuss between now and tomorrow evening. I’m scheduled to fly out early the following morning. If—” he hesitated, realizing how much was riding on these words, “if we’re truly going to move forward, there’s a lot we’ll need to work through. This isn’t a simple situation, and I’d never put her in harm’s way. She deserves the world, and I’d want to give her that or nothing at all.”

His voice faltered at the end, realizing just how crazy this situation was. He’d walked into the home of a woman who had been setting him up on blind dates for days, and now, after such a short time-frame, he was sitting in her living room with her family, explaining his intentions toward her in the hopes that Krista might feel the same way. He hadn’t even kissed her or held her hand, yet somehow, sitting here among her loved ones, he felt more at home than he had in years. It was like something had clicked into place, as if fate had finally found its target.

He wanted this. He wanted Krista, this family, this life. But there was still so much left unspoken, unknown.

The room was silent as her father studied him, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. And then, he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest with a glint of humor in his eye.

“Well then, young man,” her dad began with a small smile breaking through, “if you’re serious about my daughter, I have a task for you.” He leaned forward, placing a firm hand on Gary’s shoulder. “You help me, and I’ll help you.”

Gary raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “That’s how family works, now, isn’t it?”

A hearty laugh erupted from Krista’s dad, shaking Gary’s shoulder with friendly camaraderie. “Oh, I think you and I are going to get along just fine,” he said with a grin, giving Gary’s shoulder a final squeeze.

And at that moment, Gary felt the first real pangs of hope, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’d found more than he ever expected.