Love's Healing Touch (12 page)

"The brisket is good," he said after a few minutes of silence. "It has an interesting taste, sort of spicy."

"It's my father's special recipe. I think he puts peppers and chili sauce in before he cooks it, but he won't share it with us. Says it goes to the first son."

"Is Robbie the oldest?'

"No, my oldest brother, Martín, lives in Houston. Also there's Hector who lives in San Marcos and Laura who's a lawyer San Antonio. They're all older than I am. You've met the rest of us."

"Big family."

"You should see it when everyone comes home. We're really packed in with all the spouses and kids."

They ate in silence until Tim said in a voice loud enough to stop the other conversations, "I think I'd like to snowboard."

"Oh?" Tessie tilted her head to try to grasp what he was saying. "Have you ever been on a snowboard before?"

"No, but professional snowboarders make a lot of money," he continued. "Endorsements and stuff."

In silence, they all stared at him.

"Umm, Tim." Mike paused and looked at Ana. "Help me," he whispered. "What can I say to convince him this is a stupid idea?"

"I don't think there are any words to persuade him of that," Ana whispered back.

He nodded and didn't say anything.

"Hey, way cool," Quique said.

"There aren't a lot of snowboarding sites in Texas," Francie said.

"There's not, like, a lot of snow in Texas, period," Raúl added.

"I'd have to go to Colorado." Tim nodded and took another bite of brisket.

"When did you decide this?" Brandon asked.

"Saw it on television, extreme sports. Think I could do it."

By now, everyone was struggling to keep from smiling, but it didn't work. They all started laughing, even Quique and Raúl who were just as likely to go off on such a crazy tangent.

"What?" Tim wailed. "No one ever takes me seriously."

"And you wonder why?" Mike teased his brother.

Ana watched the family chemistry and had to laugh again. It was hard to believe with all the Fuller family had been through, but right now they seemed like any normal family, joking and teasing. A moody Mike looked fine and almost too tempting with his smoldering eyes, but a smiling Mike took her breath away.

Once the room had quieted, Tessie said, "I need your help, everyone. I have to get a job. If you know of any leads, please let me know."

"Tessie." Papi took her hand. "You can always come back to the store."

"Thank you, Antonio, but you don't need me any longer. That would be charity and I want to work, to help Mike support us." She looked back at the room. "So, if anything turns up?"

"We'll let you know," Francie said.

Mike and Ana didn't have a minute alone for most of the evening. Although Tessie suggested they take a walk through the neighborhood, Mike refused. Oh, he refused politely, in a way that didn't hurt his mom's feelings, but, still, it was a refusal and probably the right decision.

After dinner, the two of them ended up washing dishes together, trapped into it when everyone left the kitchen.

By accident, he flipped soap bubbles out of the sink. When they hit her in the face, he looked stricken, realizing what he'd done to the head resident. As a reprisal, she picked up a handful of suds and tossed them on his head, which led, of course, to his slapping the water in the sink, which soaked them both. She squealed when the foam started down her neck.

"What's going on in there?" Quique shouted, followed by low chorus of "shhs" from the others in the living room. "Do I have to come in there?"

That question was followed by whispers of, "No."

"Lot of good your coming in here would do," Ana called back to her brother.

Then she looked into Mike's face. His smile had slipped as he ran his gaze over her wet hair, the drips sliding down her face and neck. Finally, he studied her with eyes dark with longing. Reaching out a finger, he slowly and gently traced a soap bubble that rolled down her neck.

She knew, if they were alone, he would kiss her. For a moment she lost herself in the warmth of his gaze, savoring the attraction that zinged between them. She placed her hand on his arms and leaned toward him, yearning to be closer.

Hearing a movement, she glanced toward the arch to see everyone's eyes, sixteen in all, glued on the scene. She jumped back from Mike. When the families realized she was staring at them, they quickly turned away and began a loud conversation while they returned to their seats.

After he dropped his hand to his side, he looked away from the crowd at the door and finished cleaning up, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the sink. That done, he shouted to those in the living room, "Is everyone ready for dessert?"

Ana moved toward the fridge to take Francie's concoction out but stepped into a small splash of water left over from their horseplay. Her foot slipped from under her, and a searing pain ripped through her right thigh. Biting her lip to cut off the scream, she reached toward Mike as she crumpled. He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her to keep her upright before she could hit the floor.

"What happened? Did you break something?" He held her tense body against him as she balanced on her left leg.

"It's her thigh." Papi ran to his daughter. "An old injury." He took Ana's left arm. "Help me get her to a chair."

Once she was seated, Ana leaned back and forced her body to relax in an effort to relieve the pain. Deep breaths usually helped. She was aware Mike had pulled a chair next to her and had put his arm around her shoulders, but she ignored his closeness and massaged the muscles to alleviate the throbbing.

"Do you want a cold pack?" Mike whispered.

She nodded, and he went to the refrigerator. While she rubbed her thigh, she heard the expressions of worry around her and the start of her father's explanation.

"When Ana was about five," Papi told everyone gathered in the kitchen, "my oldest son Martín was helping me paint the house. Ana wanted to help. No matter how many times I told her, 'No,' she kept asking."

"You know what she's like," Raúl said. "Once she decides on something, she doesn't give up."

Everyone murmured agreement.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked through gritted teeth. She took the cold pack from Mike and laid it carefully on her throbbing thigh.

As if he hadn't heard the question, her father continued. "When Martín and I went into the house for a drink, she got a paintbrush and climbed the ladder. I should have known she would. I should have put the ladder away."

Ana heard the guilt in her father's voice. "Papi, you can't blame yourself. It was all my fault," she said as the pain lessened.

"When she got to the roof," Papi said, "the ladder tipped and she fell, all the way to the ground and onto a storm window we'd taken off."

"Oh, no," Tessie whispered. "What happened?"

"The glass broke and shards tore up the muscles and a lot of other stuff in her thigh. The doctors thought she'd never be able to use that leg again. Even then, Ana refused to give up. She exercised, did physical therapy four times a day, suffered a lot to be able to use the leg."

"But when she twists it, it hurts." Raúl put his hand on his sister's shoulder. "She's the toughest, most tenacious person I know. Nothing stops her from getting what she wants, except that leg."

"But I don't let that happen," Ana said.

"Let's go back to the living room," Francie pulled on Brandon's hand. "It can't be fun for Ana to have everyone watching her."

They left her alone with Mike again. He still had his arm around her shoulder. Now, as the pain began to diminish, she could enjoy his comforting closeness.

"I remember once when I first started work you were in the break room rubbing your thigh." He began moving his fingers up and down her neck in a gentle caress.

"Sometimes if I move awkwardly or stand too long, it begins to ache, but this is the worst it's felt in a long time." She shook her head. "I'm sorry I ruined the party."

"Don't worry." He leaned closer and rubbed his cheek against her hair.

Had he placed a light kiss there, against her curls? She couldn't tell because it happened so quickly, but the thought he might have warmed her.

"I'm better." She looked into his face. Upset because of his worried expression, she rubbed her palm across his cheek. "I'll be okay."

"Take care of yourself, Doctor."

The soft tone of his voice and the concern in his eyes filled her with immeasurable joy.

The party broke up immediately. When Mike took her arm to help her off the porch and to her car, Ana protested. "I can walk fine. I'm fine."

"Just give it up, Doctor. I'm going to help you whether you want it or not." Actually it was a great excuse to hold and support her.

In spite of her continued objections, when they reached the car, he opened the door and carefully handed her inside.

"I can do this." She pulled her legs inside and turned in the seat.

"I know." Once she was settled in her car and had the key in the ignition, he waved and walked back inside the house.

That may have been a mistake. Maybe he should have waited outside until everyone left, because Francie waylaid him immediately.

"What about the money for school?" she asked.

"Thanks, but I can't accept it. I have to take responsibility for my life and my future."

With a sigh, she nodded. "I knew you wouldn't take it, but I want you to know the offer's always open."

"I know." He hugged her.

Francie squeezed him back then whispered, "Ana's better for you than Cynthia. I really like her. Smart, pretty, nice and just right for you."

"Why does everyone assume Dr. Ramírez and I should be together?" he muttered.

"Because you
are,
silly. We all know that. You two just haven't admitted it yet."

He hoped she was wrong— and that she was right. "I don't have time for anything else in my life, not now."

"Love never comes at the most convenient time." She looked out the open front door at her husband, who waited on the porch for her. "Who could have believed a parolee would fall in love with her parole officer? Or that he'd love her— that's me— too?"

"But you're special."

"Mike, you're special, too." She kissed him on the cheek then turned to leave.

With the guests gone, Mike headed back to the bathroom. Before he got there, he saw his mother on the sofa, her hand over her eyes.

"What's the matter, Mom?" He fell into the seat next to her.

"Oh." She started and glanced up at him. "How's Ana going to be? I hated to see her in so much pain."

"Fine. She says she knows how to handle this." Mike waited a few seconds as his mother put her hand over her eyes again. "Mom, what's really bothering you? I know it's not Ana."

"It's nothing." But she didn't look up.

"Mom, what is it?"

"Oh, Mike." She looked up at him, blinking back tears. "What if I can't find a job?"

"Mom, you'll find a job. It may take a while, but you'll find one." He patted her shoulder.

"But if I don't, how are you and Tim going to eat? He's still growing. He needs clothes and new shoes, and money to go to a movie every now and then."

"Mom, he's working. He has money to do that. I can work more overtime."

"You know I have to find a job to satisfy the terms of my parole." She sniffed. "I've looked all over. Doors close fast when you're my age, have no skills and a criminal record."

Mike squeezed her.

"They put my name on the list at the Biggy-Mart, but people only get jobs as greeter when one of them dies." She took a tissue and wiped her eyes. "And all the fast-food restaurants have enough kids off for the summer to fill every position." She gulped. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You tell your parole officer how hard you've looked for work." He squeezed her hand. "We'll make it. We'll be fine."

She stopped crying and wadded up the tissue. "Maybe I'll have to go back to forging paintings again."

He dropped her hand and sat straight. "What?"

"Dear," she said with a pitiful shrug, "forging is the only skill I have."

"No, Mother, you are not going to go back to forgery. No, no, no!" When she didn't say anything, he added, "Your parole officer isn't going to like that."

"What do I care?" She stretched her arms out, the bangles on her wrists sparkling in the light. "I have to take care of my boys."

"No." Mike took both of her hands and turned her to face him. "Listen to me carefully. You're not going to go back to forging. Do you understand?"

She dropped her hands into her lap and the bracelets gave a light jingle. "But I have to help you somehow. Forging is the only— "

"I know you think it's the only skill you have, but it isn't true. You're friendly and good-looking. I say that even though you're my mother. You might be able to be a hostess in a restaurant or something."

"I'd like that." She looked down at her finger, at the short but nicely manicured nails. "I don't want to go back to forging, but it's the only job I've ever made money at. My pictures were so lovely."

"Yes, but you're not going to do that. You're not going back to that life." She still didn't respond. "And Mr. Ramírez would miss you."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "That's true. Antonio would miss me if I went back to prison."

"We all would." He spoke slowly. "And he would not like you to return to a life of crime."

"I know."

"Promise me you won't think about this anymore."

"All right." She sighed. "It's so very discouraging not to be able to find a job when we need the money. I guess I fell back into old habits."

"Old, bad habits."

The conversation might have been funny if she hadn't been so serious. Had he convinced her to stay straight?

So here he was, thirty minutes later, without a shower, driving to work at ten-fifteen, headed toward a job he both loved and hated.

What was happening in that little house? His mother had considered returning to a life of crime. They had deep financial problems and his brother wanted to be a professional snowboarder.