Love's Healing Touch (16 page)

When he didn't speak, she said, "What happened after that?"

"I walked down the hallway and saw the children in the pediatric playroom." He held her hand more tightly. "I believe I can help children. I know that's where I belong."

"Okay." She nodded again and waited for him to go on.

"That's it?" he sounded more than a little disappointed when she didn't share his happiness. "I thought you'd be surprised or excited."

"Mike." She looked down at their linked hands. "We all know that pediatrics is where you belong. I've told you that. Everyone in the E.R. has told you that."

He blinked. "Oh, yeah. I forgot, but this time God told me that."

"Yes, and He is higher on the chain of command. If it took God to knock some sense into you, I'm very happy God took over." She leaned forward. "What does this mean in your life? Will you go back to med school?"

"I haven't worked the details out, but now I have hope. When everything crashed in on me, it was too much. Now I realize eventually Tim will move out, Mom will find a job, and I won't have to support them for the rest of my life."

"Did you really think you'd have to?"

"You've met Tim, right? Didn't that professional snowboarding idea give you some insight into him?"

"Yes, a little. I can see why you'd thought Tim would be around for a while."

"It's more like I'm afraid Tim would never grow up."

"He's always been a little, um, different?"

"Immature."

"Well, then, how did you get so responsible while Tim is immature?"

"Okay, here it is." But he didn't say another word for several seconds. "He's had a rough life. Never knew his father. Dad disappeared after I was born, came back for a year, just long enough for Tim's birth, then left again. When Mom went to prison, we both went into foster care. He drives me nuts sometimes." He fiddled with his napkin. "But I understand why he's the way he is."

"You went through the same things."

"Yeah, and at eighteen, I was pretty messed up, too."

"Is that why you didn't get Tim from foster care?"

"You know, you don't have to push me all the time." He looked into her eyes. "Right now, I'm willing to communicate without your help."

"Sorry." She put her hand over her mouth.

"Anyway, his foster family, the Montoyas, was great. They loved Tim and really helped him. All of us— the social worker, the Montoyas, Tim and I— felt it was better for him to grow up in a strong family because I couldn't take on a twelve-year-old boy with 'attachment issues' then." He shook his head. "I felt guilty about that decision, but I've prayed about it. This was best for Tim."

She bit her lip. "I don't know much about faith and religion, and I really don't understand prayer, but I'm glad you've made the decision to be a pediatrician."

As Ana spoke, Julie placed Ana's breakfast in front of her.

"Thank you," Ana said. "It looks wonderful."

"Hey, this girl is nice." Julie put Mike's breakfast down and scrutinized Ana for a few seconds.

Mike wanted to leap to his feet, grab Julie and hustle her back in the kitchen. He knew what she was fixin' to do. Exactly as Manny had warned, Julie couldn't stay out of other people's lives. Why hadn't he remembered that before he brought Ana here?

"You know," Julie nibbled the end of her pencil, "I like her a lot better than I did Cynthia."

W
ho was Cynthia?

Ana became even more curious about the identity of this Cynthia when Mike dropped his gaze to the plate piled high with food, picked up a fork and began to eat with great pleasure.

She knew that trick, doing something else when he didn't want to talk and hoping no one would notice. That was a tactic her father used when he didn't want to talk about— well, about anything.

Ana poured milk on her cereal and examined Mike's expression, which showed only enjoyment of his breakfast. "So, who's Cynthia?"

He took another bite and chewed. When he swallowed, he used his fork to pick up another bite of egg.

Putting her hand on his wrist to keep the fork on the plate and away from his mouth, she repeated, "Who's Cynthia, and why does the mention of her name make you so nervous?"

He looked at her then at his fork.

"I'm not going to stop asking so you might as well answer," she said.

"Sometimes you're very pushy."

"I don't consider it a bad quality. Don't try to change the subject. Who's Cynthia?"

"An old girlfriend."

"What's so bad about that? I'd expect you to have dated lots of women. You're a very good-looking man."

He nodded stiffly. "Thank you."

How cute that he was so uncomfortable. Maybe as attractive as he was, he wasn't the Mr. Cool around women she expected him to be. "Were you serious?"

He started to pick up the syrup but glanced at her, knowing she wouldn't back down. "We were engaged."

"What happened?"

His eyes lifted to her face again before he grabbed the pitcher and poured the syrup over his pancakes. "You're not going to give up?"

Ana shook her head.

"Even if it's personal and I'd rather not talk about it?"

"If it's personal, and you'd rather not talk about it, just say, 'It's personal, and I'd rather not talk about it.'"

As she'd hoped, the whole thing sounded so foolish that he gave up and said, "She broke the engagement when she found out I couldn't get married for a while."

"Because of your mother and brother?"

He nodded. "And because I had to quit med school."

"Julie's right. I am nicer than Cynthia."

The words brought a smile to Mike's lips.

So he'd had to quit med school to support his family and because of that his fiancée had broken up with him. She'd really misjudged him. He wasn't lazy and unmotivated. Just the opposite. Hardworking and determined were very attractive traits to Ana.

After another sip of coffee, she noticed Manny and Julie watching them, whispering and grinning. Why? Those two were acting as if they thought Mike and she were on a date.

She blinked. Were they on a date? She really didn't know. She'd thought Mike had asked her for breakfast to discuss how they felt about surviving their shared experience, the terror they'd gone through together in the E.R. less than forty-eight hours ago. Maybe to debrief, to get better acquainted with each other because the incident had brought them closer.

Perhaps that wasn't the reason.

He
had
brought her to a special place, introduced her to friends, held her hand. He'd shared but been embarrassed about his ex-fiancée whom he'd also brought here and probably held
her
hand, as well.

This breakfast was beginning to feel like a date the longer they sat together, and a quick glance at his face didn't give her any clues. He was enjoying his pancakes. That was all.

She really needed to know. If this
wasn't
a date, she should force herself not to notice how handsome he was or how beautiful his eyes were. But here she was: drooling over his looks, mentally noting his good qualities. She acted as if this were the beginning of, if not a serious relationship, at least some kind of relationship when she had absolutely nothing to go on.

Yes, it was nice he wanted to share the answer to his prayer and the renewal of his faith. As she took a bite of her cereal, he smiled at her. His eyes showed interest in her.

Of course, she wasn't very good at interpreting the message found in the eyes of attractive men. Maybe he was smiling because he'd just finished a mouthful of Manny's pancakes. She didn't know, and she'd better find out before she became too infatuated with him.

A little infatuation she could handle. That was the sort of thing that sent out sparks of happiness and enjoyment and made life more fun, but that wasn't where this train was heading. Her destination looked to be a Big Infatuation. She didn't want to arrive at that junction alone. She wasn't sure she was willing to risk following that track no matter who was on the ride with her.

All of which was far more railroad imagery than anyone needed. Right now, she had to find out the reason for this…um, this meeting.

Date or no date?

"Why are we here, Mike?"

Still chewing, he looked up, surprised. When he swallowed, he said, "Don't you like Manny's cooking? Well, probably not because you're eating cereal, but just try a bite of these pancakes." He cut off a small piece with his fork, dipped it in a little syrup, and held it out. "You're going to love this."

Eating pancakes from Mike's fork seemed a little, um, intimate, but what could she do? It would be rude to allow him to sit there, fork extended and dripping syrup on the table. She leaned across, took the morsel between her lips, chewed and swallowed. He was right.

"That is good."

"Yeah, Manny's a great cook. Francie loves his soup, any kind. I promised I'd get her some next time I was here." He checked the large red clock on the wall. "I wonder if he has anything ready this early."

"Did you eat here a lot when your cousin worked at the diner?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she…um…started working here after she got out of jail. Julie hired her. We've all been grateful for that."

What? "Francie was in jail, too?" She attempted to keep the shock out of her voice.

He nodded again. "Actually, a lot of my family has been, except Tim and me."

She sat back. Why had Francie been in jail? How did she feel about so many members of his family serving time? Surprised, yes, because Mike didn't look or act like someone from a family of criminals. Francie was doing so well now, and his mother was trying hard to make a new life. Her father had told her that. Her father wouldn't be interested in a criminal.

But Tessie had just gotten out of prison. She was a criminal. At least, a former criminal.

"I don't have the best family background, Ana. Francie worked really hard to break us of the family propensity toward crime. I'm determined to make a good life, too, for me and Tim and our mother."

"What was Francie in prison for?"

"I'd…I'd rather not say." The closed-off look fell across his face.

She could understand his reticence. Pushy as she was, she occasionally did understand and recognize limits. "Okay, I do have a question I hope you'll answer," she said, returning to her earlier concern.

He looked at her, uncertainty showing in his expression.

"What is this?" She tapped the table with her index finger.

"You mean your cereal bowl?"

"No, what I mean is…" She hesitated. What had happened to that pushy person who never was embarrassed and
used
to inhabit her body? "Is this a date? What we're doing this morning, is it a date?"

"I think so." His puzzled eyes looked into hers as if trying to read her thoughts. "Isn't it?"

She sighed in relief. "I just wondered. I didn't know if we were friends discussing life or if this were a date."

"Do you mind if it's a date?"

"Not a bit. I just wanted to know." Realizing she wasn't going to eat any more of the cereal that had turned into mush while they talked, she put her spoon down and pushed the bowl away as she leaned forward. "Have you considered the consequences of our dating? There are people at the hospital who will gossip about us. Others will see anything I do for you as the result of our being close, not because you deserve it."

"None of that bothers me, but I didn't stop to consider how you might feel." He smiled. "I was so relieved when you weren't hurt Saturday night and so excited about God's leading, I wanted to see you, to tell you." He reached his hand across the table toward her. "I want to be with you because when you were fighting that guy off…" He paused, shook his head. "After that, after knowing he could have killed any of us, I realized how hard it is to foresee what life will bring."

"That's true."

"After that, I knew I had to see you now, to tell you…" He didn't finish the sentence but studied her face. "I want to be with you. Now. I don't want to put off being with you until I have enough money or I'm a doctor." He took her hand.

Grasping his fingers, she said, "I'd like that, to be with you." They gazed at each other. She could hear Manny and Julie chattering in the background but ignored them.

After a few minutes of mindless bliss, her expression turned into a frown. "The problem is this religion thing. I didn't grow up in the church. My parents never took us. It's something I've never even thought about for myself. I sleep, work or study on Sunday mornings."

"I used to be that way, but my faith changed that. Oh, I've been off and on, but no more. God's always been there when I listen. After the experience in the chapel, I'm really paying attention to God's way now."

As she scrutinized him, she could see that change. Overnight, the edge was gone. He wasn't as nervous and worried as he'd been when they first met. A feeling of calm and restfulness flowed from him now. "I'm impressed by the difference I see in you, but for me?" She shrugged. "I don't think that's me."

"I'm not going to push you, but I would like you to come to church with me on the Sunday mornings we're not working."

"I don't know if that's really for me. It's not my kind of thing."

"It won't hurt, I promise. We can spend time together, go to lunch, eat with your family or mine. We can be together." He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb. "I won't push, but I'd like to be with you whenever possible, and I'm going to be in church every Sunday I can."

She'd like to spend time with Mike, lots of time, but the idea of going to church tossed up warning signals. In this, she and Mike were different. Although they had lots of things in common, religion wasn't one of them. She'd lived almost thirty years and her father had lived his entire life fine without church.

But she also liked the feel of his hand in hers, his touch against her palm and the look of joy in his eyes.

"All right. I'll try it, but I'm not going back if I don't like it."

"That's all I ask. Try it."

After she put her hand on Mike's, a thought struck her. "Your mother. Does she go to church?"