Love's Healing Touch (18 page)

"Mike." This was not going to be an easy question to ask, but she needed to know this, both for recommending his mother to the personnel office and because of her father's interest in Tessie. "I don't know how to ask this, but how in the world did your mother end up painting forgeries? She seems so nice."

"That's exactly the reason. She's a nice person and a great mom." He started forward with the traffic as the light changed. "I told you my family has a bad history. My uncles both served time." He drove a block without speaking.

"My father left us after Tim was born," he said. "Mom had no work skills. She lost every job because one of us got sick and she had to stay home or because she was so scatterbrained." He turned toward Ana. "I love her, but Mom has no common sense. I think Tim inherited that gene, too."

"Those years must have been hard, on all of you."

"Yeah."

He didn't elaborate but she hardly expected him to.

"Her original paintings didn't sell so she started forging to bring in money. After a few years, she got caught." He shrugged. "She really is a great person. I don't want her to go back to crime or jail." He pulled into a parking space near the trail next to the soccer fields. "Now, tell me about your family."

"We're really pretty ordinary." She got out of the car when he opened her door. "My father's family came to Texas about seventy years ago. Dad and Mom were both born here and are both citizens. They met in high school and got married when they graduated. Nothing exciting."

He bought them a drink to share at a concession booth and headed toward the picnic tables with the basket.

"You all speak Spanish." When they reached a table in the shade, he placed the food and the soft drink there.

"Yes, we're very lucky. We were brought up speaking both English and Spanish. That was a wonderful gift."

After eating and watching the soccer game between two teams of ten-year-old boys and girls, Mike suggested they walk to the botanical gardens.

"I don't like to walk that far," she protested.

"Your leg?"

"It's fine. That's not the reason. I'm tired. I work too hard to wander around in the wilderness. It's hot." She grimaced. "I'm not an athlete."

"No excuses, Doctor. You know the importance of exercise, and you don't have to be an athlete to walk through the gardens." When he teased her and smiled, she couldn't resist him. Well, she couldn't resist much about him except that Leave-me-alone-I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it mood, but she saw much less of it now.

"Oh, all right." When she put her hand in his, he pulled her to her feet.

Crossing Stratford Drive and walking along the road, they strolled through the nearly empty parking lot to the entrance. After checking the map at the information kiosk, Mike asked, "Do you want to visit the dinosaur garden?"

"I loved it when I was a kid. We came here every summer because it was cheap."

"Free is always good," Mike said.

"But I'd like to see some of the other gardens. Let's start with the rose garden."

They wandered down a path surrounded by lush vegetation; the delicious scent of spice drifted to them on the breeze.

"Basil." Ana read the sign in the bed of plants.

As they strolled down steps at the entrance to the rose garden, they stood under the trellis covered with luxurious climbers of white and brilliant pink. Down a few more steps, they entered the garden and were surrounded by pink tea roses, multicolored blooms of apricot and gold, soft pink, yellow and deep lavender. Bushes showed brilliant coral and creamy white flowers. Ana reached down to rub the velvety petal of a dark orange tea rose.

"It smells wonderful." She lifted her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd think there were fruit trees in here."

"And tea." Mike put his arm around her. "Do you smell a strong tea scent?"

Another couple, the only people Ana had seen so far, sat on the other side of the garden. She and Mike ambled across a bridge and into the Oriental Garden, past ponds with golden koi flashing deep in the water and through the carefully laid out paths, small pagodas, large ferns and flowering plants.

After a few minutes of wandering, Mike pointed to the west. "There's a little path," he said. "Let's see where it goes. I don't remember. It's been so long since I've been here."

With his arm comfortably settled around her shoulders, they sauntered past beds of trailing lantana and up the path to a sign that pointed toward the Pioneer Village.

They walked by a red barn, blacksmith's shop, the school and the wishing well until, immediately ahead of them was a small gazebo. The lattice walls were pristinely white, its roof showing red through the trees.

"Let's go inside and rest," Mike suggested. "There's a bench here, too, around the inside. Years ago, Tim and I used to run around in there. Come on." He tugged her toward the gazebo. "I want to show you something inside."

"Oh?" Ana asked curiously. She didn't remember anything inside the gazebo. Of course, she hadn't been there for years, either. He pulled her along the trail and into the summerhouse.

"What did you want to show me?" she asked.

"This." He turned her to face him, keeping his arm around her shoulder, and studied her face for a few seconds. The tenderness in his eyes made her breathless.

"What?" she whispered.

"This." He leaned forward, very slowly, and placed his lips against hers, then put his other arm around her and pulled her into the embrace.

It started as a gentle coming together, his lips soft against hers. Slowly, it became a wow of a kiss when he shifted a little so they were even closer. She felt his warmth where she fit into his arms, surrounded by the fragrant air and the promise of his kiss.

She was lost in his loving touch. Around them, leaves whispered in the wind. For a while she was aware of the floral scents of roses and spice heavy in the air and the sound of birds singing. While she was wrapped in his embrace, all that disappeared until she felt only his arms holding her and his lips against hers.

When he heard the sound of other visitors on the path down the hillside, Mike pulled away, although they stood only inches apart. Smiling down at her, he took a tendril of her hair and curled it around his finger. "That was nice." Then he smiled and took her hand.

On her part, Ana wasn't sure she could say a coherent— or incoherent— word or walk next to him on legs made wobbly by that embrace. However, not a woman to give in to weakness, she took the hand he held out, stiffened her spine and forced herself up the path with Mike. After only a few steps, she felt her brain restart after she'd feared it might have ceased to function forever.

"Nice," she said, "doesn't begin to describe that."

"No, it doesn't, but that was the only word I could think of at the time." He turned to look at her. "You dazzle me, Ana."

She couldn't believe Mike Fuller was talking like that. He dazzled her, too.

After another enchanted hour during which they'd strolled through the rest of the gardens with kisses stolen by a pagoda or a bench overlooking the rose garden or in the butterfly center, he took her home. Once they reached the door to her apartment, Mike put his hand high on the wall and leaned above her. "Go to church with me Sunday?"

The question easily shook Ana out of her infatuated state. "Mike, I prefer not to talk about church. I'm happy as I am."

He took his hand from the wall and cupped it under her chin, lifting her face to look into his. "Ana, I have a gift of great worth I want to share with you. I hope you'll come with me."

"Mike, I— "

He leaned forward to kiss her tenderly. "Please, Ana."

"Okay," she murmured against his lips.

When he gave her a final hug and turned to catch the elevator, she shouted, "Fuller, you don't play fair."

He didn't, not at all, but she didn't hold that against him. How could she when he made her so happy in every other way?

Once inside her apartment, she tossed her purse on the entrance table and threw herself on the sofa. Was she falling in love with him? Yes, she was.

He was gorgeous. His good looks had drawn her first: the rare smile, the broad shoulders, the great hair. Then she'd seen him with children, a real eye-opener. Mike cared so deeply for them and the affection was returned. When she'd found out about how he gave up his dream to take in his family, she recognized what a fine person he was. Now she knew he was a really great kisser.

She wasn't falling in love. She'd already landed there and was happier than she'd ever thought she could be.

Mike decided to stop at home to see his mother before he headed to work. He was in a great mood. He'd kissed Ana, the best kisses ever. And, oh, yes, he had a work application for his mother. Before he went into the house, he tried to look not quite so dazzled. Had he really told Ana she dazzled him? He never talked about his feelings and not in words like that.

Once he had settled his features to show a glimmer of intelligence instead of the absolute goofiness that had covered his features when he'd looked in the rearview mirror, he entered the house. Inside, his mother was seated on the sofa and sketching with pastels. He sat down next to her. "Mom, there may be a job at the hospital for you."

"For me?" She dropped her chalk. "In the hospital? A job?"

He nodded.

"Tell me."

"Painting murals."

"Painting murals? Painting?" Tears gathered in her eyes. "Oh, Mike, I'd love that."

"It doesn't pay much."

"Would it bring in enough money to help? You must think so or we wouldn't be talking about it."

"Yes, Mom, I think it might work. With taxes and withholding, you'd bring home over a hundred dollars a week. That would help a lot."

"Go on." She took his arm and held tightly.

"It's also short-term."

"That would give me some experience to list for another job." She nodded. "What do you think?"

"It would be perfect for you."

"Oh, Mike, I agree." The smile faded. "But I'm an ex-con."

"Dr. Ramírez says she doesn't think it would be a problem. You should call your parole officer to discuss it, then he can talk to the human resources office."

She put her hands over her face and began to sob, her shoulders shaking. He hugged her, handed her a tissue, then stood and started out of the room.

"I never thought I could make honest money painting. I'm so happy."

Why in the world did women cry when they were happy?

After getting off her next twenty-four-hour shift which had turned into a thirty-hour shift due to a three-car pileup on I-35, Ana got in her car and headed toward her father's house.

What did Papi want to talk to her about? She'd asked when he called this morning, but he wouldn't say more than, "Would you come home to talk to me after work?"

Why would he want to talk to her on this bright Saturday morning when she'd fixed him dinner just a few days earlier? Not that she'd really expected him to tell her. Although he was different around Tessie, he was pretty much the same as usual with his family, not communicating unless absolutely necessary. Had he gone to the doctor and gotten some bad news? Maybe something had happened to Martín or one of her other older siblings, something Papi needed to pass on.

"Hola, querida."
He kissed her when she came in. With his back straight and a buoyant stride that was new to him, he led her to the family room. Once she was seated on the sofa, he settled in his recliner.

For a few minutes, they didn't talk. She glanced around the familiar room, every bit of which brought back strong memories of Mama and the family: the worn rug where Quique had played with his toy race cars; the ragged side of the sofa damaged by generations of stray cats Mama had taken in; the pictures Luz had drawn on the wall in crayon, painted over but still showing a little to anyone who knew they were there.

"What's up, Papi?" she asked when he didn't say anything. She studied his face. He looked years younger than he had only a few months earlier.

"You know how much I loved your mother, don't you? You know when she died, I thought my life was over."

"Of course I do. She was the center of our family." She felt a pang of sorrow. "We all loved her. It was hard for all of us, but much more difficult for you and the younger children."

"She was the love of my youth. I remember when I first saw her, sitting in algebra class, her hand up, always wanting to answer the questions." He smiled at the memory. "You were so alike, both so smart."

"Yes, Papi." With that beginning, Ana decided this conversation wouldn't be about anyone's health. She could relax.

"I never thought I'd love anyone again, but I do, Ana. I've fallen in love with Mrs. Fuller, with Tessie, and I wanted to tell you that."

She sat back in the seat. Oh, she'd known Papi found Tessie attractive. That he had fallen in love surprised her although she could see why he had. Tessie was a lovely, vibrant woman. Still, this was a shock. "She's so different from Mama."

"I know. Your mother was quiet and shy. You may have noticed, Tessie isn't like that." He laughed. "Even though she's had difficult times, Tessie's exciting and very special. She brought me back to life."

"I'm glad. I worried about you after Mama died."

He smiled sadly. "I worried about myself, too, but no longer."

She waited, allowing her father to bring up whatever it was he wanted to say.

After a false start, Papi said, "I had trouble at first because of Tessie's record. I'd never met anyone who'd been to prison, except your uncle."

"That's hard. I mean, in a relative, it's one thing, but to choose to care for someone with a criminal past, to accept it, must be difficult."

"It has been. I had to think it through very carefully. I was attracted to Tessie before I knew about her past, but it still threw me when she told me. I thought about what her record meant for me and you children and the grandchildren."

"What did she think of that?"

"Fortunately, she understood my hesitation and gave me time. As I thought about her, I realized she was a woman who struggled her whole life, who grew up in a family where honesty wasn't a value. In the end, she made a bad choice to earn money to care for her family."