Love's Healing Touch (15 page)

"I'm taking the phone outside. Give me a minute." Once on the porch, he sat on the front step. "I'd like to see you sometime."

"Okay." Her voice sounded pleased. "We can sympathize about our aches and pains. When?"

"Could I pick you up for breakfast Monday?" Breakfast seemed like a good choice. Not a real date like lunch or dinner. That would work until they decided where they were going, if they discovered anything between them. He knew how he felt. Was she interested in anything beyond comparing injuries?

"Breakfast? Sounds nice. Do you know where I live?"

He took down her address and phone number. "Is eight o'clock okay? That's early on a day off."

"Sounds fine. I can never sleep late. I'll see you then."

After they said goodbye, Mike turned off the cell and walked back into the house. Both his mother and brother glanced at him then back at their sketching and reading without saying a word. He picked up the remote and turned on the television.

"Mike," Tim said. "Are you going to use the car tonight?"

"Nope." He searched for a ball game.

"Could I borrow it? I told Luz and Quique I'd try to get the car and take them to a movie."

Luz, Quique and Tim as friends. That was good. Tim hadn't had a chance to make friends in the neighborhood.

"Sure." Mike tossed him the keys.

"What about you and Ana?" his mother asked as Tim hurried into his room to get ready.

"We're going to have breakfast together on Monday." Before his mother could begin to celebrate, he added, "Only breakfast, Mom. That's all. Don't get excited."

He shouldn't have wasted the warning. His mother tried to hide a smile but he knew she was humming "Here Comes the Bride" inside her head.

"I'm going to church tomorrow morning." Mike sat down and turned on the television to watch the Astros. "I'd like you to come with Tim and me."

"To church?" She stopped humming and gazed at Mike with a blank expression. "Why would I go to church? I mean, really, why would I want to?"

Putting the remote down, Mike said, "Francie took me to worship a couple of years ago. I really liked it. I stopped going for a while, but that was a mistake. Francie took me back to church just a few weeks ago. I've missed it. Church helps me. God gives me strength to live the way I believe I should. I'd like to share that with you."

"Sunday at church?" She glanced at her lap and smoothed the gauzy material of her mauve skirt, her bracelets jingling with each movement. Then she looked at him. He thought he could see terror and sadness in her eyes. "Mike, I'm not good enough to go to church. I'm not one of those churchy-type people."

"Mom, you'll be accepted and loved at this church. Francie goes there. If you're uncomfortable at any time, we'll leave, but I'd like to share this with you."

"I don't know." When he didn't push anymore, she nodded. "All right." She sighed. "If it makes you happy. What time do I need to get up?"

"We'll leave at ten."

She fidgeted a little more. "I dress funny." The panic was back in her eyes. "Not like those churchwomen in their expensive, fashionable clothes and purses and matching high heels. What should I wear?"

"Mom, Francie started going to church there only a few months after she got out of prison. She wore old jeans, but neither her clothes nor her past made any difference with the church members. They'll love you. They want you there. God wants you there and doesn't care what you're wearing."

"Oh." She nodded. "I'll try it once."

"Once," he agreed.

Sunday morning went well. They sat with Tim, a very pregnant Francie and her husband, Brandon. His mother had stayed through the service and had charmed everyone who introduced themselves to her, including the minister.

After the service, his mother agreed that she might try it again. After all, she got to see Francie and Brandon and the songs were pretty, too. The preaching she wasn't as sure about. "The man surely hit a lot of tough places in my life. Felt sort of like meddling to me."

"That's one ugly shiner." Ana studied herself in the mirror. Her eye, surrounded by deep purple bruises, was almost swollen shut. The ice packs she'd used probably helped some, but her face would be a multicolored splendor for days.

What should she do about it? This girlie stuff was as new to her as were all the bruises. Should she cover them? No way. Although she might be able to even out the skin tone, nothing would hide the swelling. And to cover the purple would take more concealer than Wal-Mart carried.

With a sponge, she patted on a little liquid foundation and puffed on a light dusting of powder. That was the best she could do. If she turned her head to the side, she looked okay: khaki slacks, nice makeup, a pink cotton tee that flattered her complexion. Pretty good except for the really ugly part around the other eye, which nothing could help.

She picked up a pair of sunglasses and slid them on. Better. She wouldn't scare people on the street.

But should she wear them in the restaurant? Would it be impolite to sit across from Mike in sunglasses?

"Stop being such a girl," she told her reflection. "This is just breakfast. Nothing big. When did you get to be so wishy-washy? So anxious to please?"

Since she saw Mike the first time,
she answered herself.

Whirling away from the mirror, she left the room, grabbed her purse and headed downstairs to meet him. After all, this wasn't a date. No reason he should come up to her apartment when this wasn't a date.

Odd, but she felt as though it was one.

As she was getting off the elevator, she saw Mike standing in front of the other one. How embarrassing it would've been if he'd gone up in one elevator while she'd come down in the other. They could have played that game for hours.

She might as well give up. She'd never been cool and felt fairly certain she never would be.

"Hey." She grabbed his arm. "I decided to meet you down here."

He didn't seem to notice she was uncool. Instead he scrutinized the bruises he could see, then reached out to take off her glasses. He gently touched the corner of her eye.

"How does it feel?"

"Do you want a medical or a personal description?"

"Personal."

Something about his being so close and the gentleness of his touch made it hard for her to speak and think. With a concerted effort, she cleared both her throat and her befuddled brain. Neither effort was completely effective.

"It aches, exactly the way someone like you with a year of medical school would know." She blinked. "I'd be no good in the E.R. because I can't see out of that eye. I have no depth perception."

He handed back her glasses. Then, being careful not to touch the bruised area, he put his palm on her cheek.

"How's your arm?" she asked. Oh, the man was potent. It was hard for her to put a few coherent words together with him watching her and so close.

He rolled up the sleeve on his blue plaid shirt. "Under the bandage, it looks fine. I had good medical care."

"Did you change the dressing?"

"Yes, Doctor. Twice a day as instructed."

She nodded at the same time she realized she'd certainly started their time together off on the wrong foot, more like a medical consult. "I want to thank you again. I was never happier to see anyone than I was to see you."

Holding the door open, Mike allowed her to precede him then moved to the street side of the walk. A gentleman. She slipped her glasses back on.

"There's a diner a few blocks down that has great food. It's an easy walk."

"I've always thought I could do anything I wanted by willing myself to do it." She matched his steps. "But when I saw that man swinging the knife— " she shook her head "— I knew I wasn't going to get out of it alone."

"You were holding your own. If you'd had better weapons you'd have taken him out."

"Possibly, but the emesis basin wasn't doing much damage."

"I've never seen anyone use a crutch as a weapon like a samurai warrior."

"Only not as successful." She shook her head.

The thought made both of them smile. "I didn't think I'd ever find the experience funny," she said. "I guess humor is one way to cope."

As they waited for the light, Ana asked, "What did you want to talk about?"

He didn't answer, just kept walking. She knew his ability to duck a question. Behind those beautiful dark eyes lived a man as uncommunicative as her father.

Thank goodness Mike did have such beautiful dark eyes or she might not put up with that.

"The Best Diner," Ana read the name over the door. "It looks nice." She waved at the big plate glass windows with red-and-white checked curtains.

"It's my favorite place." Once inside, Mike waved at the cook. "Hey, Manny, why are you cooking breakfast? I thought you only did lunch and dinner."

"Morning cook got sick." The man Mike had called Manny wiped his hand on his apron and came out of the kitchen. "Good to see you, kid."

The two men shook hands and hit each other on the shoulder before Mike led Ana to a booth and slid in across from her.

"Who's this lovely young lady?" An attractive dark-haired waitress dropped two menus on the table.

"This is Ana Ramírez. She's a doctor at the hospital." He waved a hand at the two who were studying Ana. "Ana, these are two of my best friends, Julie and Manny Trujillo. They're almost like family."

"What do you mean
almost?
" Julie said. "We are family." She pointed at Mike. "This is the greatest kid in the world. You be nice to him."

Ana smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

"Nice girl," Julie said. "Pretty, too."

"Come on, Julie. Don't embarrass them." Manny waved toward his wife. "She's always butting into other people's business. Ignore her."

"Only for their own good," Julie said. She flipped her order pad open while Manny hurried back to the kitchen.

"Why are you here so early?" Mike asked the waitress.

"When Manny gets up this early, I can't go back to sleep." She pulled out her pencil. "Talked to your cousin Francie yesterday. She said she's taking it easy but doing okay."

"She's doing great." He leaned toward Ana. "My cousin used to work as a waitress here."

"We love her." Julie smiled at Mike. "You want a number four?"

Mike nodded. "The usual."

"Don't even write that down," Manny said from the kitchen. "The kid wants orange juice, two eggs, sunny-side up, bacon and a stack."

"They know you pretty well here." Ana laughed as she studied the menu. "I'd like Fruity Fiber cereal and a cup of coffee. Black."

"That's all?" Mike asked.

"Not everyone can eat like you and not put on weight." Julie handed the order to the cook and brought them water and coffee before she moved to wait on another table.

"Tell me about your name," Mike said. "I know Manny has two. He's Manuel Trujillo Rivera."

"I use my father's last name, Ramírez, and my mother's last name, Gutiérrez. My full name is Ana Dolores Ramírez Gutiérrez." She took a sip of coffee. "We used to put
y
meaning
and
between the names, but no longer."

He nodded and repeated, "Ana Dolores Ramírez Gutiérrez. Very pretty name."

"Thank you.
Muchísimas gracias.
" Ana put her cup down before she asked again, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

He grinned. "You always go right to the problem don't you, Ana?"

She raised a brow but made no comment when he called her Ana. Of course, she'd told him to, but he hadn't before. He seemed to feel more comfortable with the name now. She guessed saving another person's life did that.

"I had a great experience the other night." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I want to tell you about it, but this isn't easy for me to share." He stopped for a few seconds. "After the fight in the E.R., I went to the chapel and prayed."

"I didn't realize you're a religious person." She studied him seriously. Sharing religious experiences had always made her more than a little nervous.

"For a few months I haven't been. I haven't felt the Holy Spirit in my life."

"Oh?" She leaned back and bit her lower lip. "Mike, I'm not comfortable discussing religion."

"I understand. I used to feel that way, too, but I'd like to share what happened."

Sharing was good. She nodded uncertainly.

"I prayed for you, Mitchelson, Williams and everyone in the emergency room."

"Thank you. We can all use that."

"Here's your juice." Julie set the glass down and topped off the coffee cups before she moved away.

"Then I prayed for strength and guidance. For myself." Mike took a drink of the juice. "Francie says her faith changed her life, helped her change. I started going to church with her a couple of years ago." He looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds. "This is hard for me to explain."

"Go on," Ana encouraged. "This conversation makes me feel a little weird, but I know it's important to you."

"Like I said, I used to feel uneasy about discussing another person's faith, too." He paused and took a drink of water. "Okay. Here's what I wanted to talk about."

He still didn't say anything so Ana sipped her juice and waited, as hard as that was for her.

"A few months ago, I went through some hard times. I had to quit med school because my brother and mother came to live with me. I had to work to support us. On top of that, there were some other things going on, too. All that stress and change hurt my faith. I began to believe God wasn't around."

"And now?" She'd begun to find this interesting. Mike's face no longer looked like stone, as if he couldn't communicate. Now his eyes sparkled with excitement, and he spoke with emotion and conviction. He reached over to take her hand. It felt nice in his, warm.

"When I was in the chapel, I knew the Holy Spirit was there," he continued. "I prayed and knew my prayers were heard. It's hard to believe, but it happened. I felt it." When she squeezed his hand, he said, "After I left the chapel, I went up to pediatrics because the parents of a patient wanted to thank me for helping their daughter in the E.R." He shook his head. "They both assumed I was a pediatrician."