Mendoza's Miracle

by Judy Duarte

  “I’d like a glass of wine, but with the medication I’m on, I’ll have to pass. But you can open a bottle for yourself.”

  She wouldn’t do that. She still had a ten-minute drive home, and… Well, a glass of wine, added to a view of the city lights and a handsome dinner companion, made this meal seem way more than it was.

  Again disappointment flared and raked over her like the needles on a cactus.

  “I spotted some lemons in the kitchen. Why don’t I make us some lemonade?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Moments later, they sat down to eat at the formal dining room table, which provided an amazing view of the city. If she’d been dressed differently, if she’d worn some makeup or had done her hair, it might have felt like a date of sorts.

  As it was, it was a quiet dinner for two between friends.

  After they finished eating, she helped him settle in on the sofa. “I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge. There should be enough for your lunch tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Leah. I really appreciate this—the ride home, the meal, the pleasant company.”

  “You’re welcome. It was nice, wasn’t it?” She nodded toward the kitchen. “I’m going to take the plates to the sink. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t bother washing the dishes,” he said. “The cleaning lady is coming by tomorrow to see if I need anything. So I’ll have her take care of that.”

  Leah slowed her steps, then turned to face him. “I’m not leaving the mess for someone else to do.”

  “Margarita will be happy to have something to do once she gets here,” Javier said.

  Leah doubted that. She’d never had the luxury of having hired help. At least, not after growing up, moving out of her dad’s house and getting a place of her own. But rather than make that comment, she said, “I’m not comfortable having someone else pick up after me.”

  “Believe it or not, neither am I. But you don’t know Margarita. Trust me on this. She’ll be delighted to have something to keep her busy.”

  Leah found that hard to believe. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s who she is. When I was a teenager and our family lived in San Antonio, she was a neighbor. She didn’t have kids of her own, so she kind of took to my brothers and me, making us cookies, taking us to the movies and that sort of thing. When her husband died, leaving her in a financial bind, she had trouble finding a job. By that time, my parents had already moved out to the ranch, where my dad works now, so I made a job for her, even though I’m not home very often. In fact, sometimes I leave a mess just so she has something to do when she arrives.”

  Leah tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying. He hired a woman for a job he didn’t need, then went so far as to find things to keep her busy?

  “She likes fussing over me,” Javier added. “And it’s kind of nice knowing that we’re doing each other a favor. Besides, my mom asked me to look out for her, and since it was the last favor my mother ever asked of me, I plan to keep Margarita both busy and employed.”

  Leah waited for him to continue, but the conversation seemed to have stalled. And a whisper of sadness crossed his face.

  Was he thinking about the promise he’d made to his mom? Or was he still struggling with her loss? How long had she been gone?

  “When did your mother die?” she asked.

  He paused for a moment, then said, “Two years ago this month.”

  His eyes glistened and he glanced out the window, as if searching for something in the city skyline. But she figured the only thing he was really looking for was an escape from his grief, from the memory.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Yeah. Me, too. It was quite a blow.”

  Instead of remaining in the center of the room, Leah returned to the sofa and took a seat next to him—not too close, yet within an arm’s distance.

  “What happened?” she asked. “How did she die?”

  “She had a chest cold and a cough. She expected it to run its course, but it only got worse. When we finally insisted that she see a doctor, she was running a high fever. We all figured a shot of penicillin or something like that would make all the difference, but it didn’t. Apparently, her cold had developed into pneumonia—an exceptionally virulent strain that didn’t respond to antibiotics.

  “The doctor called an ambulance while she was still at his office. And they took her directly to the hospital. But by the time she got there, her fever had topped one hundred and five. And nothing brought it down. In spite of everything they did, she died that evening.”

  The story, the sadness, draped over Leah like an old cloak she’d worn once herself.

  “We wish that we’d insisted she seek medical care sooner,” Javier said. “But I guess that’s water under the bridge now.”

  “Sometimes medical care isn’t enough,” Leah said, thinking about some of her patients who’d died in spite of medication, surgery or the latest treatments.

  “My dad took it hard,” Javier added. “I guess we all did. But he’s kicking himself for not insisting that she see a doctor a few days earlier, when they might have been able to help her.”

  Was Javier feeling the same way his father did? Or was he blaming someone—his father, the doctor or himself?

  Leah reached over and placed her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer compassion, sympathy…friendship. “I didn’t mean to dig up old memories.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve come to grips with her loss. But it’s tough sometimes. We were actually pretty close, so I really miss her. And that’s why Margarita thinks she has to look out for me. And why you need to leave some of the mess for her to take care of tomorrow.”

  Again Leah faced the possibility that she might have made false assumptions about Javier. She couldn’t quite grasp how a man who juggled his romantic relationships would be the kind of man who’d call his mother his friend and grieve her loss two years later. A man who would create a job for a woman who’d made cookies for him as a child.

  “So go ahead and put the leftovers in the fridge,” he said, “but leave the dishes. Okay?”

  “Can I at least let them soak in the sink?” she asked.

  A smile spread across his face, chasing away the shadows of grief. “You drive a hard bargain, Florence.”

  Leah smiled, then reached across the seat and patted his hand one last time. “Why don’t you stretch out and put your feet up for a while. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

  True to her word, she placed the leftover chicken and pasta in a plastic container before refrigerating it. Then she filled the sink with hot, soapy water and left the dishes to soak.

  But there was no way she’d leave the kitchen without making sure she’d wiped down the countertops. What if she actually met Margarita some day? She wouldn’t want the woman to think she was irresponsible or messy.

  When she returned to the living room and spotted Javier lying on the sofa, she nodded toward the doorway that had to lead to his bedroom. “Do you want me to turn down the covers for you?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I can handle it.”

  She supposed he could, so she said, “If there’s nothing else I can do, then I’ll head home.”

  “I don’t need anything else—unless you’d like to hang out for a while. I like having you around.”

  She was tempted to stay and chat longer, but knew it wasn’t a good idea.

  “I’ve got a cat to check on,” she said, even though Miss Kitty was probably fine.

  Yet she still didn’t move toward the door. Why was she dragging her feet?

  She really ought to say her goodbyes and get out of here. But her reasons for dashing off no longer held any merit. After all,
she hadn’t known that Javier had such a tender heart. Nor had she realized there was much more to the man that just a handsome face, a sexy smile…and an incredible musical talent.

  He’d loved his mother and had called her his friend. And he had a strong, loyal streak, not to mention a generous nature.

  “Well,” she said, “I should get out of here so you can get some rest. Do you have anyone who can stay with you tonight?”

  “No, I don’t need anyone here. I’ll be fine.”

  Still she found herself hanging out, hanging on. And she wasn’t sure why. At a loss as to what to say or where to go from here, she threw a question his way—one she couldn’t help asking, “Would you like me to swing by tomorrow and check on you?”

  Javier hadn’t expected Leah to take such a personal interest in him, and he wondered what she would have suggested had he told her he didn’t feel good about spending the night alone.

  He wasn’t the least bit uneasy about it, though. That’s why they’d had him stay an extra week in rehab—to make sure that he’d do fine on his own.

  So he said, “Sure. That would be nice if you stopped by tomorrow. But if something comes up, I understand.”

  “I’ve got a couple of days off and no real plans other than reorganizing my garage.”

  As Leah strode toward her purse, which she’d left on his recliner, Javier got to his feet and reached for his cane.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To walk you out to your car.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I know. But it’s dark out there.”

  She smiled, revealing a pair of dimples he hadn’t noticed while he’d been hospitalized. “That’s what porch lights are for.”

  Still, as he got to his feet, she waited. Then she slowly made her way to the door, as if making sure she didn’t get too far ahead of him.

  At least that’s what he told himself. Yet as he followed behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of her silhouette through those boxy scrubs and not lucking out, he couldn’t help remembering she was a nurse. A woman who was only doing what came naturally to her—taking care of the sick and wounded.

  Like it or not, he was one of her wounded, one of her patients. And while he liked the idea of her coming by again to check on him tomorrow, he realized she was doing it out of sympathy.

  Sure, there might be something else going on, too. But nothing he wanted to cultivate just yet.

  He probably ought to tell her not to bother going out of her way. He had more family and friends than he knew what to do with, and each one would be calling or stopping by to check on him.

  But none of them was Leah. And she was the one he preferred having around.

  He’d dated more than his share of women in the past—some just for dinner, others for more than that. Yet none of them had looked out for him the way Leah had. Or maybe he hadn’t let anyone else see his vulnerable side or get this close to him before.

  Who knew what was really going on, but he opted to go with the feeling, the desire to see her again.

  When they reached his front door, she opened it. Then she flipped on the porch light. “See? I can make it on my own.”

  Yeah, and so could he—even if he wasn’t at one hundred percent yet and had no idea if he ever would be again.

  “I owe you,” he said.

  “No, you don’t. I’m glad I could help.”

  They stood like that for a moment, his legs aching from the workout he’d had before leaving the hospital and threatening to give out on him. But he was willing to take the risk, just to stand upright—and next to Leah. To see her eye to eye, to see how her head matched up to his. How his lips would fit over hers.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, her voice soft, husky.

  Her gaze locked on his and her spring floral scent swirled around overhead.

  It took all his willpower to refrain from reaching out and running the knuckles of his hand along her cheek, to seek the softness.

  The struggle between lust and love was nearly killing him as he fought the urge to remove the clip from her hair, to free those silky auburn strands and watch them tumble down her back.

  With the smallest effort, he could tip her chin up and press his lips against hers....

  But he had a long way to go before he won the right to do that, and in spite of all the hormones and pheromone pumping between them, he kept his hands to himself and said, “Thanks for the ride and for fixing my dinner.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  No, it had been his. And one of these days, if he pushed himself hard enough in physical therapy, he would do everything in his power to earn the right to pleasure them both—and in more ways than one.

  As Leah turned and walked away, Javier leaned against the doorjamb, trying to support himself and to keep from collapsing.

  Yet he was unwilling to turn around and close the door until she was gone.

  All the way home from Javier’s condo, Leah had gripped the steering wheel as though she could ensure staying in control of both her vehicle as well as life as she knew it.

  Their evening together had been surreal, ending with what seemed to be a romantic moment only to dissipate as quickly as it had risen. When Javier had walked her to his door to say goodbye, she could have sworn that he’d been sorely tempted to kiss her. Or maybe she’d just hoped that he would.

  To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she would have let him or not.

  Okay, that in itself wasn’t true. Last night, as they’d stood in the doorway, as his eyes had zeroed in on hers, she knew exactly what she would have done if he’d lowered his mouth to hers.

  She would have kissed him.

  But he hadn’t kissed her. And to make matters worse, she’d asked herself why all the way home. Had she merely imagined their attraction? Was it only one-sided?

  If that were the case, she’d really gone out on a limb when she told him she’d return the next day.

  Once she’d gotten home last night, she’d gone through the motions of feeding Miss Kitty and giving her the meds the vet had prescribed for arthritis. Then she’d turned on the television, only to find her thoughts a million miles away.

  Well, not quite that far. They were across town, with Javier.

  She’d dreamt about him off and on that night and finally woke a little after seven with Miss Kitty snuggled at her feet and the morning sunlight filtering through her blinds.

  If truth be told, she was sorry she’d volunteered to check on Javier. After all, it’s not as though he was an only child and all alone in the world. He had a big support system, including a number of concerned family members lining up to visit him and to make sure he had everything he needed.

  She’d met them all at least once while he’d been hospitalized and under her care, including the brother who lived in New York City.

  Okay, so she’d committed herself to driving back to his house today for a visit. But that didn’t mean she had to rush over first thing in the morning, which would make her appear much too eager to be a part of his life.

  But isn’t where all of this was heading? She blew out an exasperated sigh.

  Too bad he hadn’t mentioned anything about his feelings for her—whatever they might or might not be. It would have made it easier for her to deal with her own feelings.

  She’d give anything to be able to compartmentalize her thoughts into a neat little box marked as inappropriate and out of reach.

  After a light breakfast of fruit and yogurt, she threw a load of colored clothes into the washer, then went for a run.

  When she returned, she took a shower and shampooed her hair, using the new products she’d purchased at the salon last week. She took care to choose a spec
ial outfit—something more feminine than the hospital scrubs she seemed to wear more often than not—and settled upon black slacks and a pale blue knit top.

  Then she blow-dried her hair with a rounded brush, adding body and a little curl to the ends. When she was finished and pleased with the results, she applied a dab of mascara to lengthen her lashes, as well as a light shade of lipstick.

  It was just after noon when she climbed into her car and drove to La Montana Vista, the complex where Javier lived. He’d given her the gate code last night, as well as the number of his unit, and she hadn’t forgotten.

  After parking at the curb, she made her way up the walk, then rang his bell.

  She’d expected Javier to answer or to call for her to come inside, but a silver-haired woman in her late sixties swung open the door.

  Leah might have worried that she’d transposed the house number had she not recognized the Spanish-tiled entry and the colorful Southwestern painting that hung on the wall.

  “You must be Margarita,” Leah said.

  The woman nodded. “And you are…?”

  “Leah Roberts. I was Javier’s nurse.”

  The older woman brightened, then reached out her hand in greeting. “It’s so nice to meet you, Leah. Javier mentioned that you brought him home last night and prepared his dinner.”

  Leah’s cheeks flushed warm. “I’m sorry for not cleaning up after myself.”

  “Oh, pshaw. Javier told me that he insisted you leave them. Please don’t give it another thought. It only took me a moment or two to load the dishwasher.”

  “Well, good. I’m glad to hear it. And speaking of Javier, is he up to having company this afternoon?”

  “I’m sure he would be, if he were here. But Rafe just picked him up and took him to his physical therapy appointment.”

  Since Leah hadn’t mentioned what time she’d be stopping by or asked about Javier’s appointment schedule, she couldn’t blame anyone for missing him but herself.