Calmer now, she wiped her hands on a tissue and threw it in the barrel on top of the weeds. Then she settled on a bench and stared herself in the face, metaphorically. She did not like what she saw.
In the past few days, she'd attempted to fill the hole Mike's absence had left with work and with prayer. Work was easy. In the hospital, everyone hurried, dashed from place to place and had almost every minute filled with motion. But there were times in the E.R. when she'd look around for Mike, expecting him to be moving a gurney or transporting a patient or assisting her, and he wasn't there.
When she tried to sleep, she imagined the whisper of Mike's finger across her cheek. She wished she could taste the sweetness of his lips against hers. She longed to see his rare smile or run her fingers through his shaggy hair, to rub her hand along the rough shadow of his whiskers. Every thought brought bittersweet tears, but she blinked them back. She never cried. Never— until she met Mike. Tough and determined, she'd always forced herself through every obstacle, climbed all the barriers that had blocked her way, fought every problem.
But not this one. She couldn't force herself to forget Mike Fuller. What a wimp she was to yearn for a man who didn't trust her.
Another worry overshadowed that one. Even if Mike wanted to see her again, she wasn't sure they could make it. And the problem wasn't Mike. It was her. She didn't know how to change, how to give up her need to control.
Her father had told her yesterday that he'd proposed to Mike's mother and felt sure she'd say yes. He'd looked so happy. In fact, he and Tessie always looked delighted just to be together. They didn't fight. They helped each other, understood each other. Tessie did little things for her dad, fixed him special dishes, made cute little drawings. Her father basked in the attention and returned it in the way of small gifts and hugs.
She was so happy for him and for Tessie, too, but their joy made her wonder. Maybe she wasn't meant to be part of a couple. Maybe she was too demanding, too sure of herself and her decisions to allow another person into her life.
As she started toward the car, Ana remembered the scripture from the other Sunday and prayed, "Dear Lord, help me to share Mike's burdens, to be more loving and accepting. Lead me to turn control of my life over to You."
But the thought of actually doing that terrified her, filling her with a strange aimless feeling. In that state, she didn't know what to do next, about Mike, about herself, or their lives.
Chapter Sixteen"Antonio and I are getting married."
As her words penetrated the information he was reading on diabetes, Mike looked up at his mother and Mr. Ramírez standing in the middle of the living room. He dropped the book and jumped to his feet. "Great." He hugged his mother then reached out to shake Mr. Ramírez's hand. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you."
He moved over to sit in a folding chair and waved for the couple to sit on the sofa. "Tell me about it. When did he propose?"
"Antonio proposed last week, but I asked him to give me a few days to think about it. You know— " she smiled at her fiancé then at Mike "— my first marriage didn't work out too well."
"But Mr. Ramírez isn't at all like my father."
"No, he isn't. Antonio is wonderful." Her eyes shone with happiness. "We haven't set a date yet."
He studied Ana's father. He hated it, but Mike had to ask, "Sir, do you mind having me for a stepson? After all, I did hurt your daughter."
"Well, it didn't make me happy, but these are your lives, yours and Ana's. You two have to work it out," Mr. Ramírez said. "I learned a long time ago not to meddle in Ana's business."
Mike felt like a father checking out a young man's intentions toward his daughter, but he had to ask the next question, too. "How do you feel about Mom's background, about her record?"
"At first, it was hard to accept." The older man nodded. "But I love your mother. What she did, she did for you boys, and she's never going to break the law again."
Mike watched Mr. Ramírez, who beamed at Mom. Ana had called her father "Mr. Stone-face," just as she had Mike, but Mr. Ramírez didn't look that way. Love had changed one Mr. Stone-face. Could it do the same for Mike, or was he too afraid to try?
"I'd like to get married next month." Mr. Ramírez dragged his eyes from his mother. "We're getting older every day, and I want to share every minute I can with my Tessie."
"Oh, Antonio." She slapped his arm like a girl with her first crush before she said, "I want to make sure everything is fine with the boys first."
"Mom." Mike leaned forward. "Your boys are both adults. You don't have to worry about us anymore."
"But Tim still acts so young."
"If you wait until Tim grows up, you may never get married."
"I thought that army stint was all set up, but the recruiter called this morning," she said. "It seems Tim never kept his appointments."
"Don't worry about Tim. I'll talk to him, try to get that straightened out." He took his mother's hand, the one Mr. Ramírez wasn't holding. "Don't worry about us. Concentrate on the wedding and how happy you're going to be."
Mike paused, then turned to Mr. Ramírez. "Do you mind if I talk to my mother for a few minutes?"
"Not at all. I'll wait outside." Mr. Ramírez kissed his mother's cheek then left the house.
"Are you sure you want to get married?" Mike moved to sit next to his mother on the sofa. "Don't hurry into this because you think it will make my life easier."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure. I love him." She glanced toward the window where she could see Mr. Ramírez standing outside. "He takes care of me."
Mike could see his mother was ecstatic. He really hadn't needed to ask, but there was still something more he needed to know. "But this is so soon. You haven't known him long."
"Sometimes love comes fast."
"Are you sure you want to get married in a month?"
"Darling— " she turned, her gaze capturing Mike's "— when one reaches a certain age, everything in the body begins to go." She whispered the next words. "I want to get married while I can still hold it all together."
His mouth dropped open. He couldn't answer. She tugged her hand from his and spun toward the door in a swirl of her brilliant green skirt.
When she waved and closed the door behind her, he fell onto the sofa and had the best laugh he'd enjoyed in weeks.
* * *
For the conversation with Tim, Mike tried to bribe his brother into a good mood with pizza. Before his older brother could say a word, Tim said, "I talked to my recruiting officer today." Then he took a black olive from Mike's side and paused to pop it in his mouth. "I'm going to start basic in three weeks."
"Three weeks?" Mike almost choked on the bite he'd taken. "I thought basic started in two months."
"The recruiter and I decided there was no reason for delay. I'd rather get basic over than keep working at the burger place."
"Makes sense."
Imagine that. Tim made sense.
Both of these events simplified Mike's life greatly. With his mother and brother settled, he could concentrate on his future. What about going back to medical school? And could those plans include Ana, or had he acted like too much of a jerk and lost her?
If he wanted a future with Ana— but there really was no question about that— he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He'd have to work hard to win her back. His last effort hadn't been dazzlingly successful, but now he knew what Ana wanted. She'd raised the bar, but this time he'd fight for her. He was determined to get her back.
After a few days, no plan of action had come to mind.
He'd considered several alternatives and had wisely decided against kidnapping. A romantic picnic wouldn't work because she wouldn't go with him. Her absence would cut down a great deal on the romance and efficacy. Another thought was a quirky date that would impress her but that wouldn't work, either, for the same reason the picnic wouldn't.
Although he wasn't sure that was true. He'd seen her yesterday in the hall, and she hadn'
t run. Did that mean anything? Maybe so, which made the last alternative seem possibly successful.
That last alternative was waylaying her. He hadn't ruled this idea out yet but wasn't sure of the details.
Except for a quick glance of her in the hall of the hospital every once in a while, he'd left Ana alone for a few days in the hope she'd mellow. That hadn't happened. At least, he hadn't noticed any sign of obvious thawing like a hug or a huge smile or, well, anything other than a friendly expression. He was looking for a lot more than friendly.
Now he had come up with an idea, a more aggressive strategy.
During his break that evening, he went to the chapel to pray. Although no plan to patch things up with Ana came to mind, he decided this was the place he'd bring her to apologize, to share, to show trust, to say everything and anything Ana needed to know. Here, where God had listened to him and helped him find his way, he'd present his case before God and Ana.
So waylaying Ana and taking her to the chapel became the plan. As sketchy as it was, this was the best, as well as the only inspiration he had. He figured the rest was up to Jesus.
The next morning after shift change, he leaned against the hood of Ana's car and waited for her in the parking lot outside the E.R. The only way she could get away was to run over him. He didn't think her anger had reached that level.
When she showed up, her eyes widened and her lips curled into a smile, but that faded quickly. Oddly, she didn't look angry, but what was that emotion? Disappointment? Guilt? Unhappiness? He couldn't tell because she turned away so fast.
"Hey, Fuller." She jingled her keys. "Need a ride?"
"No, thanks." He walked around the side of the car. "I'd like to talk to you."
She glanced up at him, her keys still jingling as if she were nervous, too. "Mike, I'm very confused right now. I'm trying to make sense of our, um, situation. I don't know how to react, what to say."
"I do." He put his arm on the top of the car and gazed down at her. "I love you."
She blinked a couple of times as he tried to decipher her expression. Did her reaction mean anything? Maybe not. Maybe she had a lash caught in her eye. She didn't move away, but she didn't say anything, either.
"See, I can say the words. I love you."
"Mike," she said in a voice husky with pain and deep emotion. "I've wanted to hear those words, but first I need to talk to you, to figure out what's happening. I haven't worked things out in my mind yet. I don't want either of us to hurt anymore, and I'm afraid that's going to happen."
"Why do you assume I'll hurt you?" He took her hand. "I love you. Do you still love me?"
A long pause followed his question while she considered it. Then she dropped her eyes to the ground. "Yes," she whispered and tried to tug her hand away. "But that doesn't mean everything's going to be terrific. Sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes people are too different."
"I've changed. At least, I'm trying. I know what you need. You said I need to share every bit of my life with you. I'm ready to do that."
When she didn't answer but stopped pulling on her hand, he said, "Please, come with me so we can talk privately."
Still hesitant and unconvinced, she bit her lip. "Mike, I've been wrong. I have to tell you that first." She walked toward the wall and tugged him behind her. Once they sat, he watched her silently.
"Mike, some of what I said before was true. I can't be in love by myself and you have to trust me enough to share."
"I'm working on that."
"The problem is that you did share. You confessed to me that you don't know how to share, and I didn't do anything to help you."
He kept his gaze on her face and tried to comprehend her words. She was apologizing for not helping him? That was an idea he'd never considered. "Ana— "
She held up her hand. "No, this is my confession, and I'm not very good at this sort of thing." With a deep breath, she said, "Did I help you at all? No, I lectured you and walked off. I didn't listen to you or offer to share your burdens. I didn't even push you to communicate."
He stretched out his arm and placed it around her. She didn't pull away but leaned closer to him.
"Mike, I walked away from you." Her voice quivered. "On top of that, I acted so superior, as if I don't have any faults."
"None that I can see." He smiled.
"Oh, sure." She bit her lip. "How 'bout starting that list with my total lack of compassion and going on from there?"
"Ana, you're being really hard on yourself."
"It's about time. When am I going to learn to accept people, both their faults and strengths? When will I understand that, no matter how determined I am, I can't change other people. Most people are just fine and perfectly happy as they are."
"Maybe they're not. Maybe they're waiting for you to rescue them, to head them in the right direction."
"Right." She rolled her eyes. "Mike, I don't know how to give up control any more than you know how to communicate."
"Okay, we can work on all that. Will you give us a chance to tackle the problems together?"
At her uncertain nod, he got to his feet and pulled her up after him. "Now, it's my turn. Come with me? I need to tell you something, too."
"Why can't you tell me here?" She looked back at the wall.
"Because I'd like to tell you in the chapel. I want to talk to you in His presence."
"That would mean a lot to you," she said, still cautious.
"Wouldn't it mean a lot to you, too?"
* * *
Ana shoved the keys back in her purse and allowed him to lead her toward the hospital. With his arm still on her shoulder, she remembered his words. He loved her. He'd said that. Mike wouldn't tell her he loved her if he didn't mean it. If she considered herself tough and determined, why didn't she have the courage to try again?
As they turned a corner into an empty hall, she looked at Mike and smiled. He grinned back at her and pulled her closer to him. She knew he wanted to kiss her, but this was neither the appropriate place or the right time. They still had a lot to work through.
When they arrived at the chapel, Mike opened one of the wide doors for her. She stepped inside and heard the loud vroom of the vacuum. Other members of the housecleaning crew dusted the pews and straightened the Communion table. The scent of lemon polish and dust permeated the air.
Mike watched in disappointment before he smiled. "Sometimes plans don't come together," he said. "I thought this would be perfect, but I know another place."
Taking her hand again, he headed toward the bank of elevators. "We should have privacy there."
They got off on the third floor and walked down the hall. Mike stopped before a door. The sign affixed to it said Linen closet 312A.
"Why did you stop?" She studied Mike who was looking back and forth down the corridor. Then he opened the door, shoved her inside and closed it behind them.
"This is the place."
"This is the place?" She turned around. Shelves covered with piles of sheets and towels surrounded them.
"Well, with the chapel busy, I thought of this, the only other private place in the hospital." He followed her scrutiny of the tiny area. "It's private and, after all, God is everywhere, as much with us here as in the chapel."
"Well, yes, but…" She stopped talking when she saw how serious he had become. "Won't we be interrupted?" she asked.
"No, they don't start changing beds for an hour."
The forty-watt bulb in the fixture on the high ceiling didn't emit much light, but it showed Mike's face. She yearned to reach out and smooth away his worried expression but this wasn't the time. Not yet.
"I told you about my family, what's going on with them and about how worried I've been," he began.
She nodded.
"That's why…" Mike started to say.
At exactly that moment, a redheaded man pulled the door open and stood there staring. Ana didn't know the orderly's name, but Mike turned toward him and said, "Hey, Hugo, give us
a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay, but we're going to need more towels pretty soon." Hugo grabbed a stack and shut the door.
"Okay, one more time," Mike turned back toward her. "I've shared a lot with you, although most of it was because you pulled it out of me."
"Well, I…" she began in an effort to explain herself.
"I'm glad you did. I don't know how to share. We didn't communicate well in my family or in any of the others where I lived. It was always easier to keep everything inside. That way, no one would laugh at me or use what I said to get me back later or make me feel guilty because I'd made my mother worry. I learned to keep everything in. It's habit by now."
She didn't know what to say. The thought of Mike as a little boy being afraid to communicate hurt.
"But you don't let me get away with that," he said. "That's one reason I love you."
"Because I'm a pushy woman?" She cringed.
He nodded. "I need that. You have to understand I'll never share with you as completely as you want me to. I don't open up easily, but I'll try." He looked at her as if he'd asked a question.
"Okay," she said, although she still wondered what was next. "I can accept that. Go on."
He began looking around, his eyes darting from the bulb to the floor, caressing her face quickly before moving his gaze to the shelves of linen.
"What's wrong? Why are you so nervous?" She placed her hand on his shoulder.
"I'm going to tell you something I've only told one person before. It's hard for me to talk about." He swallowed. "Almost impossible. I didn't tell Cynthia this, but I have to share it with you. I want you to know how much I love you and trust you."
When he didn't say more, Ana rubbed her thumb against his lips. "Go ahead. I'm listening."
He opened and closed his mouth several times without a word emerging. Finally, he whispered, "When I was eighteen, I knocked over a convenience store."
That was all he said. One sentence, and it rocked her. Mike Fuller had committed a robbery?
Love's Healing Touch Page 18
