Second Chance Sweethearts (Love Inspired)

by Kristen Ethridge

  “Why exactly are we up in your aunt’s attic?”

  He pointed at a staircase barely wide enough to hold two feet, side by side. “You’ll see. Give me your hand.”

  This time it wasn’t life and death. She didn’t need to be saved from swirling waters. This time, the simple touch of Rigo’s hand holding hers weighed upon her fully.

  It was time to face the truth. She had lived for far too long in a world like those bolts of fabric she’d just passed—neglected, muted by age and far from the original purpose.

  Instead of being used, valued and admired, they were stuck in a corner of an attic. She’d been stuck in a corner, too, but she wanted to feel special again and part of something greater than just herself.

  Gloria wanted to be loved.

  Holding Rigo’s hand reminded her of a time when she had all of that. Could she find it again with him?

  Could she trust him?

  Could she trust herself?

  She tightened her grip, feeling the curve of Rigo’s fingers and the heel of his hand mold to her own. She followed his footsteps up the narrow stairs.

  The door at the top of the stairs swung open as they approached it. A quick jolt ran through Gloria. Doors shouldn’t just open.

  “Good evening, sir, madam.” A young man in board shorts, a T-shirt and a bow tie nodded at Rigo and then Gloria as he spoke. “My name’s Kevin, and I’ll be your host tonight.”

  Gloria stepped through the open door. “What’s all this?”

  “Welcome to Inez’s Rooftop Grill,” the young man said.

  A small square table covered in an antique lace tablecloth and framed by two utilitarian metal chairs sat in the middle of the small patio area, which was ringed with a narrow white-painted rail topped with gingerbread-style trim. Candles were gathered in a small cluster at the center of the table, and they also graced the tops of other furniture and the porch railing. In spite of the pitch-black night, the stars twinkled and the white utility candles glowed warmly.

  “I knew there weren’t any restaurants back open anywhere on the island, but I knew of a really special place. Only a handful of homes on Port Provident have this rooftop deck—it’s an old Victorian feature called a widow’s walk. I’ve been coming up here to watch the stars since I was a kid.”

  “Widow’s walk? What an odd name for a porch.” Gloria had never heard the term. It made her think briefly of her own status as a widow. But she pushed the thought aside. As much as she would always carry her time with Felipe and Mateo with her, the past was not going to have a part of her mind tonight.

  “The legend says that these little roof walks were where women would go and watch for their men to come home from sea, and they would often wait in vain. I doubt that’s for real, but it’s an interesting story. Can’t you just see some turn-of-the-century woman out here in petticoats watching the horizon?”

  Gloria nodded. “A very romantic legend, if a little tragic. I love the history that’s all over Port Provident.”

  The makeshift maître d’ gestured toward the folding table and chairs. “Will this table do, sir?”

  There were no other tables on the porch. At only about twenty feet long, the little deck-like area made for a pretty solitary makeshift restaurant.

  Rigo pulled out a chair for Gloria. “Yes, Kevin, this will be just fine.”

  As she sat down, he scooted her toward the table. The heavy antique lace tickled the tops of her knees exposed by the sundress’s short hemline.

  “Rigo?”

  “Yes?”

  “How do you know Kevin? Who is he?”

  A smile broke the look of mild concentration on Rigo’s face. Gloria could tell he was as nervous as she felt. Good. Strength in numbers.

  “Kevin’s one of my lifeguards. You’ve had his cooking before. He helped grill the steak.” Rigo beckoned the young man back to the table. “Sir? What do you have on special tonight?”

  “I’m glad you asked. We have grilled flounder fillets, served over a steaming plate of ramen noodles, with a side of canned green beans from our legendary propane stove.”

  Kevin pointed to the edge of the narrow porch. Inez stood behind another small metal table. A tabletop grill blew a small line of smoke out the side. She stirred a pot on a two-burner propane stove and waved a black nylon cooking spoon in Gloria and Rigo’s direction.

  Rigo cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and loudly whispered to Gloria. “Chef Inez is well-known in these parts for her caldo, but we didn’t have enough bottled water to make that tonight.”

  “How did she pull off flounder?” Gloria’s mouth watered just thinking about a main course that didn’t start off as powder in a box.

  “Well, not only is he an amazing maître d’ and rescued four swimmers over Labor Day weekend alone, Kevin here is also an accomplished fisherman. He went down to the jetty earlier, and this is what he came back with. The catch of the day.”

  “This is a very special restaurant, it seems.” She studied the glow of the candles. Gloria recognized them as the same white candles they’d used to light the room when Tanna was in labor. Only a handful of days had passed since that chaotic night, but it seemed like a lifetime.

  She knew without a doubt that she was a different person than she was when she called Rigo in an act of panic. Hurricane Hope had blown and swirled and left no doubt Provident Island was changed.

  In those same hours, it seemed hope—the feeling, not the storm—had taken hold of Gloria’s heart and changed it, as well.

  “Whatever it takes, Gloria. If it’s building you a restaurant under the stars because there aren’t any others open in Port Provident, then so be it.” Rigo’s tone sounded measured—his patrol voice—and she knew he meant what he said.

  Breaking her focus on the little flickers of light dancing on the candlewicks, Gloria looked up and smiled. “Thank you. You put a lot of thought into this.”

  “Sir? Ma’am?” Kevin came back over to the table with two bottles of water and two slim white packets. “May I offer you our house specialty? Fresh-mixed powdered lemonade. It’s an old recipe, purchased from the shelves of a big box store.”

  Gloria tried hard not to laugh. Kevin obviously had earlier directions from Rigo and took his job seriously.

  “Yes, please. It sounds lovely.”

  Kevin cracked open each narrow plastic bottle of water, then poured a packet of bright yellow crystals in each, replaced the lid and shook each bottle dramatically off to the side.

  For emphasis, he twirled one bottle around his head. Just as emphatically, water sloshed out of the bottle and cascaded over Gloria’s head and down the front of the borrowed knit dress.

  She closed her eyes. “Not quite the shower I’ve been dreaming of for a few days, but it’ll do.”

  Rigo jumped up and brought a square of folded paper towel to her aid, pressing it to the top of her hair and down her face, soaking up the small rivulets still making their way downward. He knelt at her feet, his chin even with her shoulders. His presence felt so near, she wanted to move away.

  But she didn’t.

  She just sat there, quietly absorbing the moment while the flimsy towel absorbed the water.

  “Well, there goes your tip, Kevin.” Rigo cocked an eye at the erstwhile waiter.

  “Sir, in my entire career of waiting tables, that has never happened.” The teenager never broke character.

  “How long’s that been, Kev?”

  Kevin brushed back floppy bangs from his brow line. “Well, sir, about five minutes.”

  “I knew I should have been stricter in the interview process.” Rigo stood and handed Gloria the paper towel. “Can you get the lady a new house specialty—stirred, not shaken this time—and check on our flounder?”

  Kevin nodded and took
three steps over to the outdoor kitchen.

  “You okay, Glo?”

  She wished he hadn’t moved back to his side of the table. “Sure. It’s just fake lemon water. It’s a little sticky, but I haven’t had a real shower since before the hurricane, so this is probably the least of my problems.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Rigo sat back down in his chair.

  “What?” She was a little taken aback by his nonchalance. It wasn’t a big deal that some lemonade mix had spilled on her, but she’d put forth a little effort to get ready for tonight. Maybe, in spite of what he said, her attempt at dressing up hadn’t meant a whole lot to him. But still, that little part of her heart that was beginning to come out of hibernation wanted him to care.

  He leaned back and looked at her with a measured gaze. “It doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful. Always have been. No sweat or lemonade will ever change that. It’s not about what you wear. It’s about who you are.”

  “Rigo, I’ve...”

  He held up a hand, palm facing toward her, and spoke. “Stop. Don’t say another word because you’re going to deny it. I know the last few years have been rough for you. I know those days have put doubt in your heart. I know I helped put a lot of that doubt there. But you have to believe me when I tell you that you’re the same person you’ve always been.”

  A few tears started to prick at her lower eyelid. She couldn’t look at Rigo, so she looked at the candle glow and hoped the wetness would fade away. “I’ve changed. There’s no two ways about it.”

  “Gloria, I’ve seen you call a person from your past that you didn’t want to call in order to protect someone in your care—you put her safety ahead of your own comfort. I’ve seen you stay completely calm and deliver a baby in the middle of total chaos. I know that you’ve already checked on your parents’ house and restaurant and your sister’s house to make sure they can salvage as much of their stuff as possible. And I know you walked an elderly woman to church so she could have the comfort of her faith and friends after a hurricane.”

  Inez waved her spoon defiantly. “I heard that. Who are you calling vieja?”

  “Sorry, Tía. You’re not old. Please don’t burn the flounder in retaliation,” Rigo called out over his shoulder without turning around.

  Rigo lowered his gaze and met Gloria’s eyes through the flames. “Even when you’re bossy, it’s just because you want what you see as the best for others. You’re all heart, Gloria, and you give all you’ve got without realizing it—even to your own detriment. How many people have you helped in the last two years without stopping to ask for help for yourself?”

  She couldn’t cry in front of him. She just couldn’t. But she couldn’t speak, either.

  “I know you haven’t. The first person I asked about when I returned to La Iglesia was you. I wanted to know what service you attended so I could stay out of your way for a while, until you’d had a chance to deal with the fact that I was back. Pastor Ruiz said you came to the late service every week, but he hadn’t really talked to you since planning Felipe’s funeral.”

  She shook her head and hoped Rigo thought the solitary tear that snuck down her cheek was lemonade. “I just...I didn’t have anything to say. Everything I’d lived for was gone. Praying about it wasn’t going to bring them back.”

  “I understand. When my dad finally made me see I had a problem with alcohol, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, either. I’d made mistakes, and they were my own, and talking to some counselor at a rehab center wasn’t going to change the fact that I’d hurt you or that Felipe might still be here if I hadn’t called him for backup. I have a lot of regrets, Glo. But through time and counseling and returning to the church, I’ve tried to make sure that my regrets don’t become retreads.”

  “What do you mean?” He sounded so sure of himself, of where he’d been and what he’d learned. Their situations were obviously different, but she missed being that confident.

  Oh, how she missed the old Gloria.

  “I mean I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes. I left Port Provident PD voluntarily, but I wasn’t in a good place and that meant I didn’t leave on the best terms. But I’ve come back and found a job that lets me still serve the community and keep the people who live and visit here safe. I didn’t need a do-over. I needed the chance to do better.”

  Maybe they weren’t so different, after all. “Like how I moved from traditional L&D to being a Nurse-Midwife, then from the hospital to the birth center. I feel like I can do more for my patients there because of the way we’re structured. I’ve even been able to really be there for clients who have lost a baby. It’s almost become a passion of mine. I don’t want anyone to ever feel as alone as I did that night, in a hospital bed, all by myself, knowing the whole world had changed for me.”

  “Gloria.” Rigo reached out and took her hand. “That right there proves my point. You’re all heart. And if nothing else comes out of tonight, but you leave here knowing that...well, that’ll be enough for me.”

  She felt an active pushing on her heart, like the forward motion of a wave, nudging her back from the deep waters she’d called home for far too long. It was time to come back to shore. The years hadn’t changed her irrevocably, as she’d feared. Instead, they gave her insight and compassion to do her job—her life’s calling—even better. That was the gift of Mateo’s short life. He made her a better person. Having loved a good man who first picked her up when she thought she couldn’t give her heart to anyone again made her know that love wasn’t just a one-time thing. She’d lost before and loved again. Maybe history could repeat itself.

  And she had a most improbable lifeguard to thank for the realization.

  * * *

  Rigo couldn’t believe the conversation they’d just had. So much had passed between them over the years that he wouldn’t have been surprised if anger or frustration had come up when they talked about the past. He knew the smoothness of their discussion came from God, not because of anything Rigo could have said on his own.

  “Sir, madam. Your flounder.”

  Kevin presented two paper plates with a flourish. A filet of grilled flounder lay atop a pile of squiggly noodles flanked by a small group of green beans. Compared to the prepackaged food of the past few days, this looked like the best meal that had ever been laid on a table in front of him.

  “Thank you, Kevin.” Rigo opened the folded paper towel and laid it in his lap as if it had been a napkin made from the finest linen.

  Kevin nodded, making his bangs flap. Rigo had no idea how he swam with all that hair in his face. But he was one of the stars of Beach Patrol. “And now, sir, if you don’t need anything further, Chef Inez and I will leave you and the lady to your meal.”

  Rigo could see Gloria gently bite her lip, trying to stifle a laugh at the fake-haughty tone of Kevin’s voice. If the Beach Patrol thing didn’t work out, Rigo would need to remember to advise Kevin to look into acting.

  “No, thank you, Kevin. I believe that will be all.”

  Kevin bowed solemnly, then opened the small door for Inez. She patted Rigo gently on the shoulder as she passed. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, reminding him of the stars above.

  Heaven wasn’t too far away in a place like this, and he could feel the answer to his repeated prayers being worked, even now, under these stars.

  The door closed with a click, and they were completely alone on the small widow’s walk. Alone with only the muted sound of rolling waves coming on shore a few blocks away and the glitter in the night sky.

  Gloria must have harbored similar thoughts. “Look at them all.” She waved her hand above, sweeping across the sky. “Without the streetlights and such shining, they’re so clear and bright. I can’t remember ever seeing the stars shine like this.”

  Rigo leaned his head back. He could see several constellations he remembered
learning about when he was a child. It was easy to pick out the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. “There’s the North Star. Always pointing home.”

  Absorbed in the display above, Gloria’s voice sounded almost dreamy when she spoke. “Always pointing home. I wonder where that is anymore.”

  “What do you mean, Glo? Your home is here, in Port Provident.” Rigo twirled some noodles around the tines of his white plastic fork.

  Gloria put a bite of flounder in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before speaking. “I know. It’s just that I’ve wondered today about my house and gone back and forth with some of the options I think I may have. What do I do with it? The damage is extensive. And it’s really more house than I need. We’d bought it to be a family place.”

  “Well, what were you thinking of doing?” He took another bite and washed it down with the lemonade.

  “I’m leaning toward just putting it on the market. I’ll tear out all the damage, of course, but then sell it instead of fixing it up. I could use the equity and maybe even some of the insurance to start fresh and get a condo on the beach.”

  He could tell by the look on her face that she was serious. “So you’ve thought about this?”

  “I had a long walk today to and from the clinic and I did a lot of thinking. It’s time to do something different.”

  Rigo knew a lot had changed in the past few days. He hoped things weren’t moving too fast. She’d already spoken of how her home and her job and her memories had changed. He wanted to support her but didn’t want to see her newfound progress stalled out when she realized how much change she would be making. Sometimes those realizations led to progress-grounding fear.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think so. There’s not much left there to keep anyway. It’s a good house with a nice floor plan. Plenty of people will be returning to the island and will need to make a housing change, too. I’d think someone could take advantage of fixing it up the way they want to.” She chased the last green bean around the plate with the fork. “I have Felipe’s life insurance in savings—I never touched it. And I still get his pension. I imagine the city will make sure salaries and things like that get paid. So even if the clinic doesn’t open back up, I’ll still be able to buy a small condo and be okay financially for a while. You’ve helped me see past my fears. The idea of moving on isn’t so scary right now.”