"I'd…I'd rather not say." The closed-off look fell across his face.
She could understand his reticence. Pushy as she was, she occasionally did understand and recognize limits. "Okay, I do have a question I hope you'll answer," she said, returning to her earlier concern.
He looked at her, uncertainty showing in his expression.
"What is this?" She tapped the table with her index finger.
"You mean your cereal bowl?"
"No, what I mean is…" She hesitated. What had happened to that pushy person who never was embarrassed and used to inhabit her body? "Is this a date? What we're doing this morning, is it a date?"
"I think so." His puzzled eyes looked into hers as if trying to read her thoughts. "Isn't it?"
She sighed in relief. "I just wondered. I didn't know if we were friends discussing life or if this were a date."
"Do you mind if it's a date?"
"Not a bit. I just wanted to know." Realizing she wasn't going to eat any more of the cereal that had turned into mush while they talked, she put her spoon down and pushed the bowl away as she leaned forward. "Have you considered the consequences of our dating? There are people at the hospital who will gossip about us. Others will see anything I do for you as the result of our being close, not because you deserve it."
"None of that bothers me, but I didn't stop to consider how you might feel." He smiled. "I was so relieved when you weren't hurt Saturday night and so excited about God's leading, I wanted to see you, to tell you." He reached his hand across the table toward her. "I want to be with you because when you were fighting that guy off…" He paused, shook his head. "After that, after knowing he could have killed any of us, I realized how hard it is to foresee what life will bring."
"That's true."
"After that, I knew I had to see you now, to tell you…" He didn't finish the sentence but studied her face. "I want to be with you. Now. I don't want to put off being with you until I have enough money or I'm a doctor." He took her hand.
Grasping his fingers, she said, "I'd like that, to be with you." They gazed at each other. She could hear Manny and Julie chattering in the background but ignored them.
After a few minutes of mindless bliss, her expression turned into a frown. "The problem is this religion thing. I didn't grow up in the church. My parents never took us. It's something I've never even thought about for myself. I sleep, work or study on Sunday mornings."
"I used to be that way, but my faith changed that. Oh, I've been off and on, but no more. God's always been there when I listen. After the experience in the chapel, I'm really paying attention to God's way now."
As she scrutinized him, she could see that change. Overnight, the edge was gone. He wasn't as nervous and worried as he'd been when they first met. A feeling of calm and restfulness flowed from him now. "I'm impressed by the difference I see in you, but for me?" She shrugged. "I don't think that's me."
"I'm not going to push you, but I would like you to come to church with me on the Sunday mornings we're not working."
"I don't know if that's really for me. It's not my kind of thing."
"It won't hurt, I promise. We can spend time together, go to lunch, eat with your family or mine. We can be together." He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb. "I won't push, but I'd like to be with you whenever possible, and I'm going to be in church every Sunday I can."
She'd like to spend time with Mike, lots of time, but the idea of going to church tossed up warning signals. In this, she and Mike were different. Although they had lots of things in common, religion wasn't one of them. She'd lived almost thirty years and her father had lived his entire life fine without church.
But she also liked the feel of his hand in hers, his touch against her palm and the look of joy in his eyes.
"All right. I'll try it, but I'm not going back if I don't like it."
"That's all I ask. Try it."
After she put her hand on Mike's, a thought struck her. "Your mother. Does she go to church?"
"She didn't want to. I had to work on her, but she went with Tim and me yesterday and liked it."
Her father's life was about to change, too. It would probably be good for him because he needed to get out more, but for her?
"Maybe we could do some other things besides church. Do you think we could go to a movie sometime? Take a walk? You and your family could come to my apartment for dinner if we'd all fit," she suggested.
He dropped his hand to finish the last of his breakfast. "I don't have much money so we have to do inexpensive things, but I want to see you, spend time with you. Maybe we can go to some of the free events at Zilker."
For the next minute, the silence was filled with the comfortable sounds of Mike dragging his final bites of pancakes through the syrup and eating them.
"You need another stack?" Manny shouted from the kitchen.
"No, I'm finished." He held his empty plate toward Julie, who picked it up and cleared the table. "But I'd like some of Manny's good vegetable soup for Francie."
"I'll get it for you." Julie turned and carried the dishes into the kitchen.
"What about the check?" Mike said.
"We'll put it on your tab." Manny smiled and waved from the kitchen.
"Which means they won't accept my money." Mike shook his head. "I love these people and would like to eat here more often, but I wish they'd let me pay."
"They love you. Accept it."
"I should." As he stood and reached his hand out to help Ana slide from the booth, Julie put a carton down on the table.
"There's Francie's soup." She grabbed Mike in another embrace. "Give her a hug from us."
"How's your Mom's job hunt coming?" Ana asked after they left the restaurant and ambled toward her apartment. "Has she found anything?"
He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. "No. She doesn't like what's available but has agreed to consider any job. Her parole officer is getting concerned, although he's happy she's still looking."
"I'll check around, talk to some friends. Maybe there's something at the hospital."
"With her past? The conviction and prison time?" He held the front door of the building open for her. "Would they hire her?"
"The conviction wasn't for violent crime or drugs, right?" When he nodded, she said, "If it had been, there wouldn't be a chance. I'll look into it."
"I'd appreciate it." He shook his head. "I hate to ask you to do this."
"You didn't. I like your mother." She smiled at him. "And my father likes your mother."
Once inside the lobby, Ana pushed the elevator button. "Thanks for breakfast." She touched the puffy bruised area around her eye. "I'm going back to work Wednesday morning. Guess I'll see you on the late shift."
"I'm walking you to your apartment."
The elevator door opened.
"You don't have to."
"I know. I'm going to anyway."
When they got off on the third floor, she pulled the key from her purse and put it in the door. "Thank you again," she turned to say.
Setting down the bag with the soup in it, Mike reached out and put his arm around her shoulders to pull her into an embrace. He held her for a few seconds, his cheek resting against her hair. Then, with a smile, he stepped back, picked up the soup and turned toward the elevator.
Nice, very nice. Ana watched him go before she unlocked the door and went inside.
He hadn't kissed her. Probably too soon for that but she knew he liked her, liked her enough to take her on a date to a diner to meet friends, liked her enough to cuddle for an instant in the hallway.
All in all, with the exception of learning about his religious faith, this had been a great morning. She should be grateful. His faith had made him more open and willing to share with her. He'd spoken about something important to him, a breakthrough for Mr. Stone-face. It might mean they had a future, if he were willing to keep communicating.
Idiot! She was acting like a love-struck teenager wit
h a big crush on the quarterback of the football team. No matter how smart and handsome Mike was, there were problems between them, a whole lot of problems.
A chasm separated Mike's relatives from her law-abiding family, although her father was attempting to bridge that. Her worry that Mike had been lazy had disappeared when she discovered everything he was coping with. She wondered if that Cynthia hadn't caused real damage when she broke up with Mike. What had that done to his self-esteem and ability to trust?
In addition to those family differences, the rigid hospital hierarchy made a relationship between a doctor and an orderly difficult. And there was that religion thing. This morning, they'd addressed a few of these issues. With further communication, they could probably handle anything that stood between them.
Did she really believe that or was she allowing his gorgeous eyes and beautiful smile to convince her?
* * *
"Hey." That afternoon, Tim sat next to Mike on the couch and shook his older brother to wake him up.
"Yeah?" Mike stretched and yawned. He must've fallen asleep watching baseball, a great sport to nap through.
"Did I wake you up?"
Mike stifled a sarcastic response. "What do you want?"
"Well, the other day I talked to Luz about the army. I think I'm going to join."
"Terrific." Mike sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "I really think it's a good idea, but you know you don't have to if you want funds for college."
He nodded. "I know the state will help me, but, you know, I'm a little immature."
Mike again bit back another insult. Instead, he nodded and said, "We all are, from time to time."
"Yeah, but with me it's sort of a lifestyle." Tim stared at his hands before he looked at his brother. "You've always taken the load in this family. Mom tells me you're having trouble with the bills."
"You've been putting in money. That's helped."
"But I'm not going to make much if I stay at the restaurant. If I go into the service, you won't have to feed me, and I can send some money home."
This was getting emotionally deep again, but it was one conversation he couldn't run from. "Tim, you don't have to move away. If you want to stay in Austin, we'll handle the finances somehow."
Tim nodded.
"Don't go into the army unless you want to. It's a long commitment."
"I'm ready for it. I really think I am." Then Tim stood quickly, patted his brother on the shoulder, said, "You're a great brother," and hurried out of the room.
Mike smiled. They were more alike than he'd thought, both hating to show emotion, hating to express or be part of it. Kind of a male-Fuller thing.
Chapter TwelveOn Friday evening almost two weeks later, the break room was packed with staff members who'd headed there to sample the Texas pecan cake Olivia made for Mitchelson's birthday.
Mike caught a glimpse of Ana across the room. During those weeks, they'd gone out a few times since the breakfast at the diner. Late one evening, he'd taken her for a hamburger before they both worked the late shift. He'd rented a movie and they'd watched it with Tim and Quique. Once they played miniature golf and often grabbed a sandwich together during their dinner breaks.
He smiled at the memories. Now, as the staff gathered, he watched her pick up a candied cherry from her napkin and pop it in her mouth. She grinned when she noticed his scrutiny.
"One of the patients today said this hospital sure could use some brightening up," Olivia said as she cut herself a piece of cake. "What do y'all think?"
"My first day here, I was surprised how gloomy it looked," a new orderly said.
"And the floors are gray," Ana agreed. "It's depressing. I know we work in a hospital, but does it have to look like a hospital?"
"Every room should be bright, should make people feel better." Mike licked a smear of the sticky glaze from his fingers.
"Didn't I hear once that the hospital was going to have an artist do some paintings after the renovation?" Ana nibbled on another cherry.
"I heard that, too," Olivia said. "But I haven't seen any paintings."
"Murals. I think they were supposed to be murals," the respiratory therapist added.
"Well, I sure would like something cheerful in the waiting room," Maybelle, the receptionist said. "It would make my job a lot easier if it cooled some of those patients off."
Mike watched Ana savor the cake. He liked her enjoyment of the taste, the way her nose crinkled a little when she bit into a tart piece of pineapple. He liked how she relaxed with the staff. He liked the quick, almost secret smiles she gave him. Actually, he liked pretty much everything about her and the knowledge concerned him. Was he rushing into this? Getting in too deep and too fast? Probably so.
Why couldn't he be like most guys, just relax and enjoy what was going on? One reason was because he was an idiot who couldn't forget rejections— from his father's on— which meant he was living in the past. That made him really stupid.
"I know there's research about colors and mood," the psych resident said. "I think the right colors would help my mood."
"As I remember, they didn't pay enough to interest a good artist," Olivia said. "I think that was the problem."
"Hey, what's going on?" Mitchelson strode into the room. "I'm out there doing all the work myself while you guys are in here eating my birthday cake?" He looked at the one-inch square and the couple of pecans that were left. "You devoured almost the whole thing. I haven't even had a bite."
"Okay." Ana stepped in. "Let's get back to work and let Mitchelson finish his cake."
They all groaned but immediately tossed their plates in the trash and left, everyone except Ana, who grabbed Mike's arm at the doorway.
"What do you think, Mike?" she whispered.
"What do I think about what? About how pretty you are?"
"No." She slapped his hand. "About the mural painting."
What was she talking about? He shook his head.
"As a job for your mother. Do you think she'd like to paint murals at the hospital?"
"I hadn't even connected the two. Probably concentrating too much on you." He took her hand. "You're a very nice person."
"Well, I've been thinking about her. I know it would make everyone's life better if she had a job."
"You've been thinking about me, too?"
"Fuller." She ignored his question, looking confused and cute. "Why don't you check into this? I'll give her a recommendation."
"Yes, Dr. Ramírez. I'll get right on that." He glanced around. When he saw no one in the hall, he took her hand. "Do you want to go out for dinner before my shift tomorrow?"
"Love to." That terrific smile appeared. "Why don't I pack some sandwiches? We can go to Zilker Park." She turned away and said, "See you later," over her shoulder.
While he watched her walk down the hall, a hand landed on his shoulder. Oh, yeah. Mitchelson. Too bad Mike hadn't remembered the big man was finishing off the cake, but when he was with Ana, he wasn't aware of anything or anyone else.
"Is the picnic in the park completely professional, too? Like the cup of coffee?" Mitchelson dropped his hand as Mike turned toward him.
"Not exactly," Mike said. "But keep it quiet, would you? I don't want this to end up as hospital gossip."
"I promise I will, but, from the way the two of you look at each other, even if I don't say anything, the grapevine will pick it up in a day or two." Mitchelson ran his hand along the cake plate for the last bit of glaze. "That smiling thing between you two gives everything away."
Yeah, that smiling thing did give them away, but Mike was so happy he couldn't help it.
* * *
When Mike picked Ana up in the lobby of her building, he gave her a quick hug. He looked great in khaki slacks and a blue shirt. She leaned into him, feeling his warmth and the strength of his arms. He smelled like mint toothpaste, that musky aftershave and chicken.
No, the chicken scent was coming from the picnic basket.
"I
'm pretty sure I can guess, but what are we having?" he asked as he took the food from her.
"I picked up some fried chicken and potato salad at Randalls grocery."
"We can get cold drinks at the park. We should be set."
Once settled in the car, she said, "Did you get a chance to go to the employment office today?"
He grinned as he turned toward the Mo-Pac. "Uhhuh. Imagine my surprise when I discovered someone else had been there before me."
Oops.
"You know, there are some things I can take care of myself," he said.
Busted. She thought she'd been so inconspicuous, so devious. "I didn't even ask anyone. Much. I looked at the board, but the job to paint the murals wasn't posted so I asked the clerk if it was still open. That's all."
"Yes, but when two people on the same day ask the same clerk about a job that's been open for almost a year, she's bound to notice."
"I'm sorry, Mike. I wanted to find out. I was curious."
"You did it because you care. I appreciate that, but you don't have to do everything for everyone."
She sighed. "It's a bad habit of mine."
"Yes, but it's one of the reasons I l— like you."
What had he meant to say? Certainly not, "I love you." They'd only been together for a few weeks, hardly enough time to be sure of such an emotion.
"What did you find out?" she asked, still wondering about his words but deciding she didn't need to follow up, not now. "About the job."
"It was never filled because, like Olivia remembered, it pays only $6.50 an hour for twenty-five hours a week. It's short-term and has no benefits. That's about $160 a week minus taxes. The clerk said they'd hoped maybe it would appeal to a student."
She turned to study his profile. "What do you think about this job for your mother? Would the salary be enough?"
"I picked up an application. If they'd hire her, I think it would work." He took the Barton Springs exit and stopped at a light. "She'd get a work history and bring in some money. One hundred dollars a week would help a lot, and she'd enjoy it. Right now, that's really important to me."
"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."
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