Love's Healing Touch (11 page)

"Don't try to get out of it. I checked your schedule. You don't go in until eleven that night."

"Okay, I'll be here." In a real party mood, he added to himself.

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I don't know why you don't want to flirt with that darling Ana. You seem to ignore her, and she's such a pretty, smart young woman."

"I'll be nice to everyone, Mother," he said. "I always am."

But he was
not
going to flirt with that darling Ana no matter how much she begged.

"Thank you, dear."

Trapped again.

B
efore the guests arrived Thursday evening, Mom said, "Why won't you take the money when it's offered to you? You know Brandon can afford it." She shook her head before she dashed off to wipe the counters again and check on the food in the oven.

Mike looked up from the kitchen table where he was studying an anatomy text book. "I know Brandon can afford it. I know he wants to help Francie's family, but I want to do this myself."

"Stubborn," she mumbled.

"Yeah, it runs in the family." The scent of garlic bread filled the room and made it hard for him to concentrate. He closed the book.

"You and Francie have always been so close. You know she wants you to take the money and go back to med school."

"Mom, it's because I
do
owe Francie so much that I can't take the money. I owe her everything, but I want to do this on my own."

"That makes no sense at all."

"It does to me. I can't take more from her even if it's Brandon's money. I have to take responsibility for my life, and this is one way I can. This is a start."

"Well, you're going to have to explain that to Francie because I can't." His mother put the teakettle on the burner and leaned over to pick up a dust bunny on the floor, her silver bracelets and earrings swinging with the motion. When she turned to toss the offending particle in the trash, her scarlet dress swung with her.

"She'll understand."

What
he
understood was why Mom had invited Brandon and Francie to the dinner tonight. She'd said it was because she wanted them to meet Antonio. Mike figured that was one reason. The other was in the hope Francie could convince him to take the money.

"You know, even with help, I'd have to work at least forty hours a week to rent the house and buy food. I couldn't do that and go to medical school." And, yes, he could take out a loan, but with his future looking so dim, he hated to owe more money than he already did from the first year of med school. He stood and headed out of the kitchen, the anatomy book in his hand, then dropped it on the sofa. "Looks like you need to get the table ready for the party tonight. I'll set the table, then I'll study in the living room."

"That's another thing," she said as he took the plates from the cupboard and placed them in a stack on the table. "Why are you studying if you aren't going back to school?"

"Because I like it, because I can use it at work. It's exciting to see what I'm reading about happening right there in the E.R."

But she wasn't listening. The Ramírez family would be here in a few hours and that's what she was concentrating on. The house looked good because she'd forced Tim, who'd complained every minute, to pick up his stuff. Now she was brewing tea and checking the vegetable casserole and a dozen other little chores while he placed a pile of napkins next to the plates.

He was glad his mother was so happy, but Mike dreaded the evening. Being with Dr. Ramírez— because that was what he had to call her in his mind to keep his distance— outside the E.R. made his life complicated and uncomfortable. How could he keep his distance with his mother shoving them together? How could he resist Dr. Ramírez when she had her hair down, wore civilian clothes and smiled? No man could.

At a few minutes after six, Raúl, Luz and Mr. Ramírez knocked. Hearing Mike's shout of, "Come in," they entered the house. Raúl carried a large glass casserole dish while his sister Luz closed the door behind them.

"We're here, Tessie," Mr. Ramírez said.

Mom turned her cheek for a kiss. She glowed with happiness.

"Ana's parking her car. She'll be right in."

"My niece Francie and her husband, Brandon, will be here in a few minutes, too. You'll like them. Plus, she's bringing a wonderful dessert, something chocolate and filled with whipped cream."

"It sounds delicious," Dr. Ramírez said as she entered.

As she entered, Ana glanced at Mike. As usual, he looked terrific. He sat on the sofa, a book in his hands, pretending he hadn't seen her come in. But she'd seen his eyes lift toward her for a nanosecond before he'd begun to read again.

Tonight he wore khaki slacks with a gold shirt that fit his shoulders marvelously and probably made his eyes look great, which she couldn't see because he'd buried them in his book. Probably the nice clothes meant no pickup basketball game with the neighborhood kids this evening.

"Papi made his wonderful brisket," she said to Mrs. Fuller.

"Brisket? I didn't realize that was a Mexican dish."

"We don't always eat tacos,
querida.
" Papi's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Sometimes we eat hamburgers and hot dogs, although we prefer them with hot sauce."

"We have an uncle that carries his hot sauce with him," Raúl said. "Uses it even on chicken tetrazzini, but the rest of us eat almost anything, sometimes without salsa."

"Especially this one." Papi waved toward his son.

"Let's put your lovely brisket in the oven to keep it warm." She walked through the arch into the living room, and the Ramírez family followed her, chatting with each other.

After she entered the kitchen, Ana stopped and looked around her at the art on the walls. She was so engrossed, she barely noticed Raúl place the meat on the butcher-block counter.

A Degas ballerina painted on the wall framed the table, her long right leg stretched across the corner, "This is beautiful. Was it here when you moved in?"

"I told you about Mom, didn't I?" Mike spoke from only a few inches behind her, so close his breath tickled her neck.

When had he put down his book and come in the kitchen? She didn't care. He was here, and he was close. Very nice. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Art forgery?" she whispered. His proximity made her fluttery and a little breathless. The feeling was so unlike her, she wanted to move away from his warmth but with Luz, Papi and Mrs. Fuller sharing the tiny space, she couldn't move. Unless she shoved hard, like a tackle through the offensive line, she was stuck close to him.

He nodded and took a step back. The movement should have been a relief to Ana but didn't turn out that way. Perversely, she missed his warmth and longed to step back with him.

Mike's mother stood in the middle of the kitchen with everyone studying the beautiful artwork. She looked worried about their opinions, wiping her hands on a towel she'd picked up and trying to read their faces.

"Tessie," Ana said as she slid between Luz and Papi to stand in front of the mural and feel the power of the art, "this is one of the most beautiful paintings I've ever seen. It's absolutely marvelous." She reached out to touch it. "The color, the texture, the use of light, all are amazing."

Tessie stopped twisting the towel, relaxed and smiled.

"
Querida,
I knew about your painting but had no idea how very talented you are," Papi said.

"Let me take you into the hall and her bedroom," Mike said. "You aren't going to believe these paintings, either."

And they couldn't. After many "oohs" and "aahs," several soft strokes across the colors and textures, they returned to the kitchen, overwhelmed.

"These are all lovely." Papi kissed Tessie's cheek. "I'm proud to know a woman with the ability to bring such joy into the world."

She blushed. "Oh, Antonio."

Ana watched her father in amazement. Around Tessie, he was different. She slanted a glance at Mike to see if he was as amazed and amused as she at the relationship between their parents. He didn't seem to have a problem with it at all. Did she? She'd thought she would. With his mother's criminal record, she hadn't been too excited about Tessie, but she made his father happy. He hadn't smiled for such a long time, but he did around Tessie.

Was Tessie a widow? What had happened to his father? From the way they never talked about him, he must have been gone or dead for a long time. What had Mike done when his mother was in prison if his father was gone?

None of your business, Miss Nosy,
she lectured herself.

"I brought dinner," Quique called from the living room. He entered the kitchen and dropped a bag of chips on the table.

"Thank you, Quique," Tessie said politely.

"Nice thought,
mano.
" Raúl laughed.

"Quique knows only three food groups," Ana said. "Fat, carbs and sugar."

"Hey." Quique held his hand up. "I was being thoughtful. I could have just brought myself, which you would also enjoy greatly."

"You're a perfect guest," Tessie said. "I appreciate the addition. Thank you, again." She opened the sack and poured the chips into a bowl.

"De nada,"
he said with a bow. "You're very welcome."

When Francie and Brandon arrived a few minutes later, Tessie introduced them. Francie seemed interested to meet Ana, smiled and asked her a few questions. Brandon, who was tall, blond and very handsome, hovered around his pregnant wife.

"Why don't you sit here?" He took his Francie's hand, led her to the sofa and helped her get settled. "I'll bring you something to drink."

"He spoils me." Francie grinned as she watched her husband go into the kitchen.

After Luz arrived, everyone grabbed a plate and walked around the kitchen table to load them up. They could chose from the tender brisket, Mike's favorite corn pudding, green bean casserole bubbling under onion rings, bread, tortillas, guacamole, biscuits, salad, and more.

Plates filled, they crowded into the living room to eat. When Ana entered, she saw the four younger ones on the floor, legs crossed, chatting and joking. She was too old to sit that way and much to old for their conversation. Tessie and Francie sat on the sofa with a space between them. Thinking if she sat there, she could get to know both women better, Ana headed in that direction. Before she could sit, Francie scooted into the empty space faster than Ana had ever seen a woman that pregnant move.

Ana turned toward the now-empty place on Francie's left.

"That's for Brandon," Mike's cousin said with a sweet smile.

"Okay." Ana turned toward the folding chair next to Tessie.

"That's for your father." Tessie smiled, also.

Very suspicious, all this smiling and scooting. The only other seats were the two folding chairs in the corner. With a sigh, she gave up and took one of those. This reminded her of the time everyone had pushed her and Mike together on the swing at her family's house. Here, the room was so small they wouldn't be isolated, just extremely close together.

Brandon left the kitchen, handed Francie her drink and plate before he went back to get his own. As he did, Papi sat next to Tessie.

Almost last to come into the living room was Mike. He saw the place next to Francie and headed toward it, but his cousin said, "It's for Brandon. Sorry."

"You might as well give up," Ana said. "They want us to sit together."

Mike stiffened and turned toward the only empty chair before he walked across the room to sit next to her.

"Sometimes," he mumbled, "they are so obvious. I'm sorry."

He was embarrassed and had become Mr. Closed-In again. She hated all this prickliness and careful stepping around his ego. Not that it made a difference. No matter how their families pushed them together, no matter how much she'd enjoyed the interlude in the office, she wasn't sure she wanted attention from a man so much like her father— well, like the way her father used to be. If she were looking for a relationship, a man who smiled and shared more seemed like a better choice.

So why was she so pleased he was sitting next to her? She had to stop kidding herself. As much as she'd tried to forget what had happened there, the interlude in the office showed the tantalizing promise of what could develop between them.

"Francie's your cousin?" Ana asked after a few minutes of silence under the watchful eyes of both families.

As she'd expected, he only nodded.

She'd known better than to ask a yes or no question. She made another effort but missed again. "Are you two close?"

"Yes." The monosyllable fell into the sudden silence of the room.

She glared at her father and brothers. Immediately everyone started loud discussions.

"Why?" There, she'd finally gotten to an information question. Would he answer it?

"When Francie's father went to jail, she went to live with our Uncle Lou. When Uncle Lou went to jail, she came to live with us."

She almost dropped her fork at the information but forced herself to respond calmly, "I didn't realize so much of your family has served time."

"Francie's certain there's a faulty gene involved." He smiled at his cousin fondly.

"But you and your brother?"

"Haven't been in jail, though neither of us have been immune to the call of the wild side." His smile vanished and he stared back at his plate as if he'd said something he wished he hadn't. "Francie pretty much kept me on the straight and narrow."

"What happened when your mother went to jail? Did you live with Francie?" He was silent. For a few seconds, she didn't think he was going to answer. Was she getting too close to him?

"No, Tim and I both went to live in foster families. Tim's was great. They still keep up with him, have him over for meals. None of mine were great." Before she could ask more about Mike's foster families he hurried on, "Francie was eighteen and living on her own, but she wasn't settled enough to take us in."

It felt as if he were speaking, adding facts, to keep her away from what he didn't want to talk about. She'd like to ask him more: Where was his father? What had his foster homes been like? But she didn't. Miss Nosy did have some boundaries, even if her family teased her about never recognizing one.