Second Chance Cafe (7 page)

Chapter 8

I
sa walked through the door of Ethan’s café, halting at the destruction zone in front of her. The flooring had been ripped up and half the room had been painted a different color. Some sort of contraption was being built in the center of the room. Ethan had definitely jumped in with both feet when it came to redesign. A little more than a week had passed since he’d closed the café and everything looked like a royal mess.

“Isa!” Ethan came through the kitchen with a wide smile on his face. “Welcome to my café!”

“Thanks. It’s looking…um… Is
demolished
a nice way to say what I’m thinking?”

Ethan laughed. “Demo is an accurate description,” he agreed. “But it won’t be this way much longer. Couple more days until the walls are completely painted. Then the floors will go in. The guys have been stopping over between shifts, helping paint and ripping up the floor. I think they like being destructive. Even the chief was over here earlier, painting. Rachel’s shopping for new decor as we speak.”

“Rachel?” Isa raised her eyebrows.

“Blake’s wife. I think you met him the night they brought me to the E.R.”

“Oh, right.” Isa moved to inspect the paint color and hoped he hadn’t recognized any traces of jealousy in her tone at the mention of another woman helping him.

“Have you decided on a name for the café yet?”

Ethan shrugged. “I think I’ve just about decided. I want it to be the right name. I want it to mean something.”

“It will come to you. So what’s this?” she pointed to the floor-to-ceiling half wall in the center of the room.

“Fireplace. We’re going to use real brick, but it will be a gas fireplace. Rachel says it will warm up the room, decoratively speaking.”

“Good idea,” Isa said, keeping her tone level. She knew Ethan wanted to share his excitement with her, but when it came to his new restaurant venture, she just wasn’t feeling very excited.

“The wall over there will have artificial brick. I’m having hardwood floors laid early next week.”

She bit back a grin. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. She worked to stifle her attraction. It didn’t help that on top of looking eager and adorable, Ethan also looked gorgeous. His blue T-shirt hugged him in all the right ways. His ratty khaki pants had paint splattered on them and there was sawdust in his hair—somehow it all made him even more appealing to her. She liked how he obviously intended to be hands-on with every aspect of his business.

Isa just looked at him, enjoying the chemistry that seemed to ignite every time she was near him, while at the same time trying to overlook it.

He must have realized she was staring at him. “I know I’m a mess,” he said, dusting his pants.

She shrugged. “Messy looks good on you, Ethan.”

He stepped closer to her, smiling as though he knew how he affected her.

“So you’re saying you like me even when I’m a mess?”

Isa cleared her throat, thinking again of their kiss. “I guess I do. What can I say? I like messy.”

“You like messy. I like chaos. Sounds like a good match to me.” His eyes were bright, happy. “You can see that Rachel’s going for a fire-station theme with her decorating. All the guys are donating some memorabilia. I think it’s going to look pretty cool when we’re finished. I’m still working on the new menu.”

“Breakfast foods and then sandwiches and soups and salads, right?” Isa asked, wishing she didn’t want to stand so close to him and feel him take her hand in his. She could only assume that it was her hesitancy that kept Ethan from being more forward with her. She knew he liked her. And she wanted him to like her. She just didn’t want to do something crazy like fall head over heels in love, which she felt very much in danger of doing.

“Yeah and a couple of cheeseburgers. I’m thinking maybe a bacon-cheddar and a jalapeño-Jack.”

“Sounds good.”

“I could show you the menu once I’ve finished it,” Ethan said, hope permeating his words.

Isa nodded, making sure she didn’t come across as overly enthusiastic. “Sure, I’ll take a look if you want me to.”

“Would you like to see the kitchen?” Ethan stepped backward and Isa saw him flinch badly. She quickly reached for him and he gripped her arm.

“Ethan? What’s wrong? Is it your back?”

He clenched his jaw, breathing hard.

“Okay, take a deep breath. Relax if you can. I’m right here—hold on to me.”

He couldn’t answer, but he took deep breaths as she instructed. Once some of the tension eased, Isa led him to a chair and helped him sit down. He sat with his back rigid, clearly in extreme pain.

“Did you go to therapy this morning?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Tomorrow,” he told her. “I must have stepped wrong or something.”

Isabella frowned. “Does it happen often?”

Ethan shrugged and Isa got the feeling he didn’t want to tell her just how often he was experiencing that level of pain.

“When is your next doctor visit?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. For now I’m just supposed to be going to therapy. But it’s brutal, Isabella. I feel like a wimp saying that to you. But I can’t believe how hard therapy is.”

“You’re not a wimp, Ethan.” Isabella shook her head. “You had a spinal fracture. You’re hurting. It will get better. But talk to your doctor soon if you feel like something might be wrong. You need to be examined. And be sure to tell your therapist tomorrow about this incident. They might not want to work you so hard if you’re still hurting this badly.”

Ethan didn’t answer and Isa knew he was still smarting. “What can I do, Ethan?” She knelt in front of him.

“A kiss might help,” he said with a tiny smile.

Isa licked her lips and was reminded again of just how charming Ethan Carter could be.

“You know you’re taking advantage of my concern for you, right?” Isa said.

Ethan just nodded. “Sometimes a guy has to do what a guy has to do.”

Isa laughed. “The same goes for girls,” she said before planting a soft kiss on his lips.

* * *

Isabella crept into the NICU after her shift the following Thursday morning, tiptoeing as nurses pointed at sleeping babies. She turned a corner and saw Maggie sitting in a rocking chair, her eyes closed.

“Mags?” Isabella whispered.

Her friend’s eyes flew open. She relaxed once she saw it was only Isa.

“I must have dozed off,” Maggie said, her voice just above a whisper.

Isa leaned down to hug her friend, then moved to the middle of the small space to look at Maggie’s daughter, Bianca. The teeny-tiny baby girl lay sleeping in the incubator. She seemed so small to have so much equipment hooked up to her. Because her lungs hadn’t fully developed, she was being given oxygen.

“Oh Maggie, she’s beautiful,” Isa said, touching the glass between herself and Bianca.

Maggie stood up and stretched. “I hate that she’s in there. I feel like she needs to be held,” Maggie said wistfully, tracing hearts on the glass.

Isa tucked her arm through her friend’s. “You’re right here loving her. Do they let you hold her at all?”

“A few times a day,” Maggie said. She looked up at Isa. “Those are the highlights of every day for me.”

Warm tears burned Isabella’s eyes. She hugged Maggie.

“The important thing is that she’s going to be fine.”

“She’s so little,” Maggie countered.

“For now. She’ll grow, Maggie. You know she will. She’ll be playing soccer before you know it.”

That drew a small smile from Maggie. “Let’s walk down for a soda,” she suggested, and Isa followed her through the NICU. They reached the hospital cafeteria and Isa ordered fries and two cans of Coke. Then the two girls found a bench outside to share.

“You look great, Maggie,” Isa said, knowing how much encouragement her friend needed. But the words didn’t help; Maggie looked at Isa with tears in her eyes.

“I feel like a disaster. I almost lost Bianca.”

Isa had no doubt that Maggie’s hormones were raging and that she was more than a little emotionally unsteady. She reached over and rubbed Maggie’s hand, looking right into her eyes.

“Mags, that wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known about the cervical insufficiency. It was scary, and you’re right, it could have been much worse. But Bianca was viable. She’s here. She’s going to be fine. You both will be.”

“It could happen again if I try to have another baby.”

Isa heard the trepidation in Maggie’s words. She shook her head.

“Next time they’ll watch you more closely. They’ll know the risk. You’re a nurse. You know there are measures to prevent preterm labor. Listen to me—right now you need to concentrate on yourself and on Bianca. You should keep taking your prenatal vitamins. And you need to keep your strength up. Are you nursing?”

Maggie shook her head. “She’s so small that she really struggled to latch on. And I’m not producing very much milk. I’m pumping what I can. And we’re supplementing with formula.” Maggie’s disheartened tone made Isa think this was another source of guilt for Maggie.

“You’re already a
great
mother, Maggie,” Isa said firmly. “I think Bianca is lucky to have you. You had no control over when Bianca was born. And you can’t control how much milk you can produce. These things are not your fault. You’ve got to let go of these expectations.”

“She’s so little.” The weepiness returned and Maggie started to cry. “I was so afraid.”

Isa held Maggie’s hand tightly.

“I was, too. If you need to talk through everything that happened, I’m here, Maggie. You can talk about whatever you want to. You can tell me exactly how you’re feeling. I want to encourage you. I want you to know I’m here for you—anything I can do to help. I mean it when I say just ask. We’re friends, Mags. You are never alone in this.”

“I’m glad Ethan was there,” Maggie said.

“Me too,” Isa agreed.

“He’s a good man, Isa.”

“He is.”

“I think you’re a good team.”

“Maybe,” Isa allowed.

They were both quiet for a moment, and then Maggie drew in a shaky breath.

“They want me to go home tonight.”

Isa could see the distress in Maggie’s eyes at the thought of being away from her baby.

“Bianca will probably be here for at least four more weeks.”

Isa didn’t say anything for a moment. She could say it would be all right, but the truth was that her friend was going home and her baby was staying in the NICU. Isa wouldn’t feel all right if it were her. Maggie’s hand was cold. Isa scooted closer to her on the bench.

“You prayed for me in the car,” Maggie said in a low voice.

Isa was surprised that Maggie even remembered.

“It was more like I yelled for you,” Isa admitted, and Maggie chuckled, then groaned and touched her stomach where her stitches were from the Cesarean section.

“Don’t make me laugh, Isabella Romano.” Maggie patted Isa’s hand this time. “Yelling, praying—sometimes they are the same thing.”

Isa looked down at her knees. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

“I was afraid God wouldn’t help us.”

Maggie nodded. “I was afraid of that, too.”

“He’s so unpredictable,” Isa said, with a slight edge to her tone. But Maggie just looked out at the scene of mountains in the distance. The weather felt warm around them and the sky was picture-perfect clear; they could still see the mountaintops.

“He is. But I keep thanking Him for Bianca’s life. I keep thanking Him that you were there, that Ethan was there, that Leo drove us to the hospital quickly and safely. I needed all of you, and God made sure you were there for me.” Maggie drew in a ragged breath, full of emotion. “I’d nearly given up, Isa. Before I got pregnant with Bianca, I’d just about given up hope of ever being a mother. I thought I’d missed my chance.”

“I know,” Isa whispered.

“There were many times after my miscarriages when doubt filled my heart. But right now, with the knowledge that I’m a mother and my baby girl is alive and growing stronger every day, I know that God is a God of second chances. And third and fourth chances. He’s that kind of God, Isa. Just when we think things won’t work out…or certain dreams can’t come true…God surprises us. Sometimes I feel so afraid when I see Bianca in that incubator. But at the same time, I feel so grateful that God gave her to me.” Maggie turned to face Isa. “Isa, I need to tell you something. I don’t plan to come back to work. Not anytime soon. Bianca’s so small and she’ll be in the hospital for such a long time—she needs me. José’s going to look for a second job.”

Isa masked the sinking of her heart with an upbeat nod. “Of course. I completely understand, Maggie. I would do the same thing.”

Maggie turned back to face the mountains. “I’ll miss you.”

Isa could barely swallow from the lump in her throat. “You won’t have to. We’ll see each other all the time. You’re practically a Romano.”

Maggie gave her a small smile. “That’s true. I should get back. Walk with me.”

They walked side by side, with Isa trying not to think about the fact that Maggie wouldn’t be working with her any longer.

“I’ll be coming here every day until Bianca is discharged,” Maggie told her.

“I’d expect nothing less. I’ll come up as often as I can,” Isa promised. They reached Bianca’s incubator, and again Isabella marveled at the tiny baby. As Isa turned to leave, Maggie held her back for a moment.

“Isa, thank you. For being with me, for supporting me, for caring enough to pray on my behalf—thank you.”

“You’re my friend, Maggie. It’s what friends do.”

Maggie nodded. “You can do one more thing for me.”

“Name it.”

“Give that good-looking fireman a real chance.”

The corners of Isa’s lips turned upward at the very thought of that good-looking fireman.

Ethan.

Chapter 9

E
than gritted his teeth. He’d spent the past hour doing exercises and receiving massage therapy at Incline Physical Therapy and Wellness Center.

You can do this. It’s not so bad.

Ethan hated to admit it, but the personal pep talks weren’t working.

“How are you doing, Ethan?” Keira, the physical-therapy assistant who nearly always worked with him during his sessions, asked.

“Okay,” Ethan answered tightly, trying to push through the sting.

“Isaac said he wants you to do at least ten of these exercises before we cool down. Can you handle that?”

Ethan held back from voicing his feelings on whether he could handle the exercises. He knew Isaac and Keira were only trying to help him regain strength, but it felt like too much. By midexercise he couldn’t hold it in. Ethan gasped from the pain in his back and froze.

“Okay. Breathe out. It’s going to be okay, Ethan,” Keira said calmly, easing him through the intense pain.

By the end of his session, Ethan felt the way he usually did—exhausted and frustrated with his lack of progress.

“We’re going to go ahead and do some heat and stem treatment. That will feel a lot better, trust me,” Keira told him. “You just need to relax and let the heat do the rest.”

“Am I still on track? I don’t really feel like I’m progressing like I should be,” he finally said. He told her about the episode he’d experienced at the café the day before. Keira handed him a bottle of water.

“It’s different for everyone, Ethan. You’re anxious to have this behind you, but really, it’s just got to follow its course. These things take time. Healing isn’t always a fast process. You’ve got to understand and accept that. You’ve made progress. I know it feels like it takes forever, but it doesn’t. It’s only been a couple of weeks of therapy. The next time you come in, I’ll have Isaac do an evaluation on how you’re progressing.”

Ethan drank half his bottle of water and didn’t answer. It was true he’d hoped he’d be further along by this point. But how long was it going to take? He’d worn that back brace for six weeks. When the doctor cleared him to begin therapy, he’d felt so confident that surely he’d be back to normal soon. But he still felt so much pain; he still felt so unlike himself.

He thought of the strength he’d need to resume his duties as a firefighter. The thought dispirited him. He didn’t feel anywhere close to being able to handle those duties yet, as much as he wanted to. He held on to Keira’s words and tried to be positive.

Time. It’s going to take longer than I thought. I have to be patient. I’ll be back to normal eventually.

Late the following afternoon, Ethan watched as the new sign for the café was maneuvered above the entrance.

“More to the right!” he called out to the guys working for him. He loved the sign. Rachel had designed it with the fire station in mind—fire-engine-red with gold letters. The sign popped with color and vibrancy. He’d been surprised by how much he’d enjoyed the redecorating aspect of taking over Mick’s business. The bookkeeping was another matter, but he was getting the hang of things. Mick had been gracious enough to share his knowledge with him. Ethan knew he’d run the business according to his own style, but knowing the ropes was essential. After interviewing a number of candidates, he’d decided on another cook, Mark, and three more part-time servers. The cash flow going out stressed him more than he’d anticipated, no doubt about that. All the building materials for redecorating, Rachel’s fee, not to mention overhead, payroll, food—Ethan tried not to let the amounts consume and overwhelm him.

He clapped as the sign was finally hung. “Looks great, guys! Thanks!” He left them outside to finish and disappeared back into the dining room, which looked nearly finished.

“What do you think, Ethan?” Rachel asked as she hung a final canvas picture. He studied the picture. It was a huge magnified photo of the Company 51 fire truck with all the guys on board. Ethan had hired a photographer to take a few photos around the fire station. Now photos of boots, hats and gear, the interior of the station, the guys in motion, and more lined the walls of his café. Rachel even had a portion of a ladder hanging parallel to the ceiling. The café decor captured the warmth, camaraderie and excitement of a fire station, and to Ethan it now felt like home.

“Rachel, you’ve done an incredible job. This café looks better than I could have ever dreamed.”

The dark wood floors flowed throughout the restaurant, the faux brick was striking, the photos were beautiful and the brick fireplace took the design to another level, artistically speaking. Ethan couldn’t have been more pleased.

“When’s the grand opening?” Rachel asked.

“I’m hoping we open the doors for customers in another week or so.”

By six o’clock the workers had all gone home and Ethan was alone with his café and could begin the part of his job as restaurateur that he enjoyed the most—cooking.

A tap on the glass told him Isa had arrived. By the time he reached the door, she’d moved back to the edge of the sidewalk, her face tilted upward as she examined the new sign. He moved to stand beside her.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

“You didn’t tell me you’d chosen a name,” she noted, her eyes still focused upward.

“It just came to me all of a sudden. And it felt right. I wanted to surprise you, to surprise everyone.”

She nodded. They both looked up, reading the sign silently together.

Second Chance Café.

“Well?” Ethan probed.

“I like it, Ethan. You’re right. It fits.”

With a smile, he draped an arm around her shoulders and steered her inside the building. Then he stood happily, soaking in her praise as she admired the dining room.

“So you said you needed my help? I hope food is involved because I’m starving,” Isa said, and Ethan grinned.

“Follow me to the kitchen.” He pushed through the swinging door and Isa inhaled deeply.

“What are you making?”

“We,”
he corrected her, “are making corn chowder. I really want to have it on the menu, but my recipe needs tweaking. It’s good, but it needs to be more than good.”

Isa nodded. “Where do you want me, Chef?”

Chef.
He liked the sound of that. He tossed her an apron and pointed to a workstation on her left. “Bacon needs to be chopped and fried to a crisp, and potatoes need to be peeled.”

“I’m on it.”

They talked lightly as they cooked together, joking back and forth as usual. Ethan pulled two fruit pies out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. Then he pulled a pan of roasted chicken and vegetables out of the oven, along with a broccoli-and-rice casserole.

“This is enough food for an army, Ethan. What are we doing with all of it?” Isa asked.

“We’re packaging it up and taking it over to José and Maggie. They can freeze it and have ready-made meals.”

Her mouth dropped open. She looked away after a moment. Ethan knew her well enough to assume that Isa was again trying to take control of her emotions. “That’s a great idea,” she said in a quiet voice.

Ethan walked over to her and put both hands on her shoulders. “Isa,” he said, tilting her chin up to make eye contact. “It’s okay, you know.”

She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Thank you.” She pushed him back. “Now let me work. And by the way, your corn chowder recipe doesn’t call for cheddar. That’s a mistake. Cheese makes everything better.”

He nodded. “Go for it. Make whatever changes you want.”

* * *

Isa let herself unwind as Ethan gave her the space she needed to cook. He turned on some music while they both worked independently of each other. Isa washed her hands and studied his corn chowder recipe. She hated to admit it, but having a restaurant kitchen at her fingertips was rather fun. She’d spent years alongside her father and brother in the Romano’s kitchen. But now she rarely ever cooked for pleasure for herself. Takeout and fast food had become common parts of her life due to her hectic schedule. She’d forgotten how much she loved cooking with fresh ingredients, taking the time to create something special, something meant to be shared.

For a moment, Isa was distracted. She thought of Ethan’s chosen name for his café, the Second Chance Café. And she couldn’t help thinking of Maggie’s assertion that God was a God of second chances. And third chances and fourth and so on.

The thought comforted her for some reason.

Ethan had already set out a soup pot for her with a stack of ingredients on the counter, along with about six ears of corn. She heated olive oil and butter, adding onion and garlic. She rummaged through the refrigerator for heavy cream and cheddar and set them on the counter.

Once the soup was simmering, she wiped down the counters, enjoying the aroma of the chowder. Her stomach growled and she was pleased to see that Ethan had set out bread and bruschetta for them to munch on while they cooked.

“We haven’t talked about it, you know,” Ethan said.

Isa froze and an uncomfortable look crossed her face. “What haven’t we talked about?”

“The fact that you seem to have resigned yourself to dating a chef,” Ethan said lightly.

The clouds in her eyes scattered and Isa pressed her lips together to keep from letting him see her telltale smile.

“I told you, this is on a trial basis, tough guy,” Isa rebuffed.

“Can I ask you something, Isa?” Ethan asked.

She sighed. “If you must.”

“Would you go to church with me sometime?”

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him with interest. She watched him wait while she considered the question.

“Yes,” she said finally.

“Yes?” he echoed.

She spooned a portion of the bruschetta onto a piece of toasted bread, appreciating the aroma of basil and olive oil, tomatoes and balsamic vinegar. She took a bite and let the flavors come together.

“This is excellent bruschetta, Ethan,” she complimented him.

“I’m glad you like it. I figure if I’m going to date a Romano, I should perfect a few of my Italian dishes.”

Isa laughed. “I could help you with that, you know.”

He leaned over the large island in the kitchen, his gaze still full of fun but a little more serious. “Isabella Romano, I’ll take cooking lessons from you anytime, anyplace. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

How did he
do
that? Get under her skin so easily? Isa stared at her bruschetta, feeling overcome by her pull to Ethan. It was as though he knew the way to reach her. He was verbal and playful and forward and self-confident—Isabella’s own recipe for the perfect guy.

Except there were no perfect guys. She knew that for a fact.

“All right,” he said, interrupting the silence. “So you’re willing to go to my church? How about next Sunday?”

“Yes, I’m willing. And yes, I’ll go next Sunday. The truth is that I haven’t gone to church in a while. Why do you want me to go with you?”

Ethan pretended to think over the subject. “So we can hold hands and text notes to each other.”

She giggled, the sound filling the space between them.

“All kidding aside, Redeemer Community is a great church. Several of the firefighters go there when they’re not on shift. I think you’ll like it. And I’ll like sitting beside you,” Ethan said.

“So you’re not really planning on holding hands, then?” Isabella said, shaking her head with mock disappointment.

“Oh, I’m totally planning on it,” he replied with confidence.

* * *

Isa downed a second espresso only two hours into her shift that night. Being Friday, it was supposed to be her night off, but a friend had needed someone to cover for her because of a family emergency. So as usual, Isa had said yes.

I can’t keep up this schedule. Working all night, going by Mom and Dad’s whenever I can, seeing Ethan every time I have a free moment—I feel like I’m running out of gas. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since before Mandy had baby Tony. It’s been one thing after another and I’m about to crash. I can feel it coming. But what am I supposed to change? I have to work—I’ve got bills to pay. We’re short-staffed with Mags gone, so I have to pick up the slack. Mom and Dad mean everything to me, and I know Mom has more peace of mind when I stop by to check on Dad. Plus, I can see how Dad lights up when I come to see him.

I’ve been running up to the NICU a lot to see Maggie. But she needs all the support she can get. She’s barely hanging by an emotional thread as it is. I try to check in with Mandy as much as possible because I want to be the kind of sister-in-law who helps out when she’s needed and I know Mandy’s adjusting to motherhood and needs help.

Daughter, sister, friend, nurse. Is there even room for
girlfriend
to be added to that list?

Her thoughts drifted to Ethan and the café and the fun they’d had cooking together. Isabella loved that he’d thought of making food for Maggie and José. Maggie had cried when they’d shown up on her doorstep with sacks of meals to freeze. Isabella
thought about baby Bianca and the fact that Maggie wouldn’t be returning to the hospital, at least not for the foreseeable future. The thought of working the night shift without Maggie was a bleak one.

With a sigh, Isabella stood up and made her rounds, feeling exhausted and depressed about Maggie’s resignation.

She also worried about Ethan. The night they’d cooked together, she’d noticed how gingerly he moved. The pain in his back seemed sustained. Granted, he’d experienced a bad fall, but still, she worried about whether he was healing properly. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Being someone who didn’t like it when others pried into her life, she didn’t want to press him if he didn’t feel like discussing it. But she couldn’t help worrying. He winced often without even realizing it.

By the time 6:00 a.m. rolled around, Isabella was running on fumes. Around 1:00 a.m. a bad car accident had resulted in a crowd of people being rushed to the E.R. And a case with a child’s injuries had caused Isabella to involve Child Services right before her shift ended. She trudged through the hospital parking lot, taking a moment to lean against the car and tilt her face up to the sunlight. But even the Colorado sunshine couldn’t revitalize her.