Christmas Blessings: Seven Inspirational Romances of Faith, Hope, and Love

by Leah Atwood

  Oh, yes.

  Arturo dashed over the line of scrimmage, hyperaware of all the possible pursuits and angles. A defensive tackle coming at him from the left… But his fullback stopped the latter, clearing the route. Cradling the football in his hand, Arturo lowered his shoulder on Lawrence, a linebacker who was known for stopping everything in his path. The shove Arturo put all his force behind sent the other man to the ground. Yes! Arturo rushed forward, gaining precious yardage for his team. Adrenaline surged through his veins like hot lava. Arturo increased speed in a burst of acceleration, pushing his body beyond its limits. And then… He stiff-armed the free safety and soared through the end zone, his heart thundering in his ears.

  Touchdown!

  The crowd went wild. In the very last moments, they won the game.

  Oh, the all-sweeping euphoria of victory. No feeling would compare to that.

  Ever.

  “What is your pain level today, on a scale from zero to ten?” The nurse’s voice brought him back from the stadium with screaming fans into a quiet room in his hometown.

  “Zero, because my favorite nurse is here.” Mr. Grumpiest beamed.

  Arturo cleared his throat. Just this morning, his grandfather had complained all his old bones were hurting and bothering him.

  “I’m your only nurse.” She wrote down something again.

  Favorite nurse, huh? Mr. Grumpiest had fired several nurses before her, as well as the entire staff Arturo had hired to cook and clean for his grandfather. There must be something special about this nurse that had won Grandpa over.

  Arturo sat down close to his grandfather. She sent him a furtive glance. Aha. Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent toward him as she pretended to be.

  Pretended to be.

  His instinct went on alert. Most women in his life had put high stakes on their appearance and did their best to look as beautiful as they possibly could. This woman looked as if she tried to blend into the background. Was it on purpose? And if so, why?

  Chapter Two

  Arturo tensed. Maybe he should check her references and her background, like he’d always done with the people who worked for him or his family.

  “I’m going to take your vital signs.” She wrapped the cuff around Grandpa’s arm and listened intently. “Blood pressure is normal. Now, please place this under your tongue.” She slid his grandfather a thermometer, which Mr. Grumpiest accepted with a gleam in his eyes as if it were the finest chocolate.

  Arturo rolled his shoulders, one of the hits he’d taken the day before sending him a reminder about a less exhilarating part of the game. His сoach had recommended water therapy, ibuprofen, and intermittent heat and ice to ease the pain.

  A different kind of reminder this morning had knocked the wind out of him faster than the worst tackle of his career. A call from Grandpa’s friend Grace Carrington. Yesterday his grandfather had been rushed to the emergency room with dangerously low blood glucose. He’d been kept overnight for observation. But the stubborn man hadn’t called his grandson for help.

  Heart in his throat, Arturo had taken the first flight home. The coaches hadn’t been happy about him missing training on Monday, but then Tuesday was a day off.

  Thankfully, Grandpa had been released with stabilized blood sugar soon after Arturo had arrived. But a blister resulting in a wound on his grandfather’s heel and jumpy blood sugar scared Arturo more than going against the team with the strongest defense in the league.

  On the bright side, Grandpa finally seemed to have a home health nurse whom he liked.

  Arturo had a nagging feeling he’d seen this nurse before. But he couldn’t place her. Lana Smith. Her name didn’t ring a bell. He was sure he hadn’t met her in any of the Houston hospitals after suffering sports injuries. And her scent, of cinnamon and apple pie, was unfamiliar, at least for his adult life. The scent stirred a tender wave of nostalgia inside him, bringing back childhood memories. Until everything had changed…

  But he still could find a safe haven at his grandfather’s place. A wave of gratitude overcame him as he looked at Grandpa.

  Thank You, Lord, for saving my grandfather.

  A sting of guilt reminded him he hadn’t thought of God much lately. He hadn’t been in church for even longer.

  “So far so good.” The nurse felt for his grandfather’s pulse with her long fingers. Her fingernails were cut short, with no nail polish on them, and for some reason Arturo took pleasure in the fact that her ring finger was bare.

  Several moments later, she nodded. “Your heartbeat is normal, too. That’s great.”

  “It’s pouring outside,” Grandpa said. “I hope you had no trouble getting to my place.”

  “No trouble so far. But if the rain continues for several days more, I’ll need a boat to get here.” She smiled.

  Arturo always liked women with a sense of humor. “Grandpa has a boat. I’ll be happy to pick you up.”

  “Thanks. I drove slowly most of the way. I’m sure the drivers in the row of cars behind me were irritated, considering it was a two-way road with not many opportunities to pass. But I kept saying to myself, ‘I’m saving lives. I’m saving lives.’”

  Both Arturo and Grandpa chuckled. Okay, Arturo could see one of the reasons his grandfather had taken a shine to his new nurse. She made him laugh.

  “Let’s see how sweet you are this morning.” She reached for the blood glucose meter.

  “You don’t need to stick me again.” Grandpa’s gnarled fingers fisted.

  “I’m very sorry, Mr. De La Vega.” Her voice had become soft and soothing.

  “I told you to call me Grandfather. Everybody else does, Ms. Smith.”

  “Okay, Grandfather… De La Vega. But only if you call me Lana. I promise I’ll make this as quick and pain-free as possible. By the way, you had a healthy lunch today, right?”

  Grandpa sighed and handed her his hand, staring at the table. She pressed something looking like a large pen to his finger and, after a small clicking sound, placed the drop of blood on the strip in the meter. She stared at the screen.

  Arturo had a sinking feeling in his stomach. His grandfather hadn’t had a healthy lunch after getting home from the hospital, talking Arturo into making him blueberry pancakes. He shouldn’t have succumbed to the sweet-talking. But Grandpa had seemed so happy, forgetting about his aches and pains. So Arturo had made sure he’d used artificial sweetener, sugar-free syrup, and small portions.

  “Yikes!” Her eyebrows shot up. “Your blood glucose is high. What exactly did you have for lunch?”

  Grandpa kept quiet, so Arturo fessed up, “Pancakes. I made them.”

  She glared at him, a storm in her eyes, now dark gray. “You. Made. Them.” She checked the nifty gadget attached to Grandpa’s belt.

  Irritation warred with guilt inside Arturo.

  “I gave myself a correction dose of insulin through the pump,” his grandfather said, his voice rising.

  “I see you did. But I don’t think it was enough,” she said. “Or the insertion site might be the problem. We’ll change the cannula and the insertion site, as well as the tubing and reservoir.”

  All this talk about a cannula and an insertion site sounded like Chinese to Arturo. He needed to read up on diabetes. Which might be hereditary. He pushed the thought away. “Can you show me how to do it?” he asked the nurse.

  “Sure.” She rose to her feet and retrieved several things from the box in the living room marked INSULIN PUMP SUPPLIES.

  For the next several minutes, he watched attentively as she changed parts of the small blue square gadget—the pump. Then she helped his grandfather attach a white circle with tubing to his grandfather’s stomach.

  When she was done, she gestured to Arturo. “Could you please walk with me to the kitchen? I’d like a glass of water.”

  He followed her, his heart heavy. He’d made things worse for his grandfather by cooking the wrong lunch and then not monitoring his grandfather’s blood glucose level
. If the nurse hadn’t shown up… He didn’t want to think what would have happened then.

  It made moving his grandfather to Houston and hiring a full-time nurse imperative. Arturo would find a great diabetes educator for Grandpa. And a thyroid doctor. Besides many other things, Houston had outstanding medical care. But what if Grandpa wouldn’t agree to move, as usual?

  “Do you realize how many carbohydrates are in pancakes?” she whispered hotly as soon as they reached the sink. Several dark wisps escaped from under the baseball cap she was wearing. “It’s bad for him. And it doesn’t help his wound heal, either.”

  “It won’t happen again,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Okay. Everybody makes mistakes.” Her voice softened. “The situation can be remedied. But it’s better not to cause this in the first place. Diabetes is a very serious disease and should be treated as such.”

  “I realize that.” Arturo kept his voice low so grandfather wouldn’t hear them arguing. Being schooled like a little boy, he did his best to suppress his anger. Even if she had his grandfather’s best interests in mind, Arturo didn’t appreciate being talked down to. Nobody had dared to talk to him like this since his teen years. His six-foot-one frame to her five-foot-something didn’t seem to intimidate her in the slightest. “Ms. Smith, I want to take my grandpa to Houston with me and provide the best care possible. I do care about him.”

  “I understand. He knows how to work the insulin pump. But sometimes he needs help, especially when I’m not around.” She touched his arm, as if pleading with him.

  Her touch made his anger deflate and sent a wave of awareness through him. Hmmm. She wasn’t the type of woman he’d normally be attracted to. Rigorous training and recent lack of sleep must be affecting him worse than he’d thought.

  In the confinement of the small kitchen, she stood close enough to him for their breaths to mix. His heartbeat increased.

  Her breath appeared shallow, as well. It might be because of anger. Or it might be because he affected her in the same way. Why on earth did he want it to be the latter?

  “How much batter did you use, and how many pancakes did he eat?” Her eyebrows drew together. Yep, probably it was the anger. “And don’t forget about the syrup.”

  “Um…” He gave his guestimate.

  “Got it.” She nodded to him. “Let’s go back before he starts worrying.”

  Bossy. Well, that should kill the attraction. He couldn’t stand bossy women.

  As they walked back in the room, his grandfather gave them a shrewd glance. “Please don’t be upset with my grandson, Miss Lana. He means well. Besides, I talked him into it.” He gave a sigh. “Who knows how long I have left to live? At least I should be able to enjoy some pancakes.”

  “Only God knows how many years you have. I pray that you have many healthy ones,” she said.

  Arturo took a seat.

  So she was a believer. Probably another reason why she and Mr. Grumpiest got along well. His grandfather had always had strong faith, which he’d tried to instill in his grandson. But Arturo had stopped praying, reading the Bible, and going to church after leaving Rios Azules. He never seemed to have the time for it. He didn’t rely on God anymore.

  Arturo had a stab of guilt again. He needed to recover what he’d once had.

  “Besides, didn’t you promise to take me dancing when your wound heals?” Her lips curved.

  Grandpa was a character, but apparently, so was his nurse.

  The old man gave her an innocent smile. “I had to motivate you to take good care of that wound, didn’t I?”

  She shook her head, and several more curls set themselves free, causing Arturo to want to reach out and take off her baseball cap. “You don’t need to motivate me. Now, I know you tried to give yourself extra insulin for the meal, but apparently, your cannula became kinked, and the insulin wasn’t delivered. That’s why it’s important to check your blood glucose regularly. I want to have the pleasure of your company for many years ahead. Please show us how to give yourself extra insulin.” She stated the number of the carbohydrates.

  Arturo paid attention to the way his grandfather input the numbers and what buttons he pressed. Respect for the amount of knowledge the nurse had rose inside him. What he couldn’t understand was why she treated his grandfather with much more kindness than she treated him.

  “Very good,” she said when Grandpa was done. “May I use your bathroom to wash my hands?”

  “Of course.” Grandpa waved at her, and she disappeared down the hall.

  She returned quickly, pulled on rubber gloves, and started changing the dressing on Grandpa’s right foot.

  Arturo watched her closely, in case he’d have to do it in the future. Ms. Smith wasn’t the only one motivated to help his grandfather. But it was getting more and more difficult to help long-distance. Driving five hours each way had been exhausting. Still, he’d preferred that to an hour flight that connected Houston to southern Texas. He’d never admit to anybody that flying scared him. So far, he’d only flown in extreme circumstances, like the one this Monday morning. Arturo’s stomach tied into a knot. He might have to take more of those flights from this day forward.

  “All done.” She pulled off rubber gloves and disposed of them. “The wound is a little better. But I’m sad to say you’ll have to keep seeing me for some time.”

  “Don’t be sad, kiddo. And thanks for your help yesterday. You probably saved my life.” Grandpa’s eyes warmed with gratitude.

  Arturo tensed, as if bracing himself for a tackle that couldn’t be avoided. His grandpa might be talking about the low-blood-sugar episode.

  “I just did my job. I came here earlier than my regular time. By the time I got here, you couldn’t even talk.”

  “I usually control my sugar better,” Grandpa said when Arturo sent him a worried look. “It happened so fast.”

  She turned to Arturo. “At the signs of hypoglycemia, like sweating, fatigue, confusion, or slurred speech, check his blood sugar level immediately. If it’s low, give him glucose tablets or a glass of orange juice. Check his blood sugar level again in fifteen minutes after orange juice or sooner after glucose pills.”

  “What if Grandpa is unconscious?” Chills ran down his back at the thought.

  “Good question. Give him a shot of glucagon like I did and call the ambulance. I’ll print out detailed instructions and drop them off later.” She walked to the medicine cabinet and showed him a large bottle with pink pills and a long red container. “This is the home glucagon kit. The syringe is inside this container. I hope you won’t need it, but it’s best to be prepared.”

  Arturo memorized the instructions. His concern for Grandpa now mixed with gratitude to his nurse. He could’ve lost his beloved grandfather if not for her. Pain ricocheted through him, worse than when being crushed under a pile on a football field.

  Grandpa seemed eager to change the topic. “My grandson is a famous football player.” Pride in his voice made all the years of hard work worth it.

  “I know,” she said quietly, and something difficult to define flashed in her eyes. What was it? Concern, disdain, distrust?

  Arturo tensed again. He had a gut feeling this woman was hiding something. He’d learned early on that women with secrets meant problems.

  Grandpa had mentioned she’d moved to Rios Azules from California three weeks ago and knew very few people here. Why move to an unfamiliar small town where one didn’t have family or friends? Something didn’t add up.

  Her shy smile, dedication to her patient, and the vulnerability he’d glimpsed in her eyes earlier contradicted his suspicions.

  Arturo frowned. He’d find out who Lana Smith was.

  Chapter Three

  Lana caught Arturo’s stare and struggled with her confusing emotions. It wasn’t his fault he represented everything she’d tried to escape. The world of the rich and famous. The selfish and uncaring attitude. The sense of entitlement. The slow loss of her own will to wh
at had been important to Michael.

  At Michael’s insistence, she’d given up her nursing job for three years to be available at any time for social functions and red carpet events. Michael thought being a movie star had given him the right to control her every move, to mold her into something she’d never wanted to be. And she’d been too much in love not to realize it sooner.

  One day, she’d pray for Michael.

  But not today.

  She wrote her notes fast. Did the young De La Vega recognize her? While she hadn’t been a celebrity herself, being the fiancée of one had put her in the spotlight, and the media had picked up the Cinderella story.

  He shouldn’t recognize her. Before moving to Rios Azules, she’d colored her hair back to its natural color and let it curl again instead of straightening it. She’d taken out the lenses that had made her eyes appear strikingly blue and bought large glasses in an awkward frame. She was relieved to shed the image Michael had created for her together with painful shoes on high heels, strict diets, and rigorous workouts to stay slim.

  Arturo’s interest unnerved her. But a tiny part of her hoped there could be other reasons for his attention.

  After checking Grandfather De La Vega’s pillboxes and medications, she stood up and gathered her bag.

  Arturo De La Vega rose to his feet. “Let me help you with that.” He reached for her bag.

  “No, thank you.” She smiled warmly at her patient. “I hope to see you tomorrow.”

  She’d make sure she didn’t attract attention to herself and stay as far away from this pro athlete as possible. Maybe another home health nurse would take on her patient, even though they were understaffed. No, she couldn’t just pass him off to somebody else. In the short time she’d known him, she’d gotten attached to the grumpy but kindhearted old man.

  “How about bringing me some of that apple pie?” Grandfather De La Vega winked at her. “My Eleanor made the best apple pie in the world. But yours comes a close second.”