by Brandy Bruce
“Am I still on track? I don’t really feel like I’m progressing like I should be,” he finally said. He told her about the episode he’d experienced at the café the day before. Keira handed him a bottle of water.
“It’s different for everyone, Ethan. You’re anxious to have this behind you, but really, it’s just got to follow its course. These things take time. Healing isn’t always a fast process. You’ve got to understand and accept that. You’ve made progress. I know it feels like it takes forever, but it doesn’t. It’s only been a couple of weeks of therapy. The next time you come in, I’ll have Isaac do an evaluation on how you’re progressing.”
Ethan drank half his bottle of water and didn’t answer. It was true he’d hoped he’d be further along by this point. But how long was it going to take? He’d worn that back brace for six weeks. When the doctor cleared him to begin therapy, he’d felt so confident that surely he’d be back to normal soon. But he still felt so much pain; he still felt so unlike himself.
He thought of the strength he’d need to resume his duties as a firefighter. The thought dispirited him. He didn’t feel anywhere close to being able to handle those duties yet, as much as he wanted to. He held on to Keira’s words and tried to be positive.
Time. It’s going to take longer than I thought. I have to be patient. I’ll be back to normal eventually.
Late the following afternoon, Ethan watched as the new sign for the café was maneuvered above the entrance.
“More to the right!” he called out to the guys working for him. He loved the sign. Rachel had designed it with the fire station in mind—fire-engine-red with gold letters. The sign popped with color and vibrancy. He’d been surprised by how much he’d enjoyed the redecorating aspect of taking over Mick’s business. The bookkeeping was another matter, but he was getting the hang of things. Mick had been gracious enough to share his knowledge with him. Ethan knew he’d run the business according to his own style, but knowing the ropes was essential. After interviewing a number of candidates, he’d decided on another cook, Mark, and three more part-time servers. The cash flow going out stressed him more than he’d anticipated, no doubt about that. All the building materials for redecorating, Rachel’s fee, not to mention overhead, payroll, food—Ethan tried not to let the amounts consume and overwhelm him.
He clapped as the sign was finally hung. “Looks great, guys! Thanks!” He left them outside to finish and disappeared back into the dining room, which looked nearly finished.
“What do you think, Ethan?” Rachel asked as she hung a final canvas picture. He studied the picture. It was a huge magnified photo of the Company 51 fire truck with all the guys on board. Ethan had hired a photographer to take a few photos around the fire station. Now photos of boots, hats and gear, the interior of the station, the guys in motion, and more lined the walls of his café. Rachel even had a portion of a ladder hanging parallel to the ceiling. The café decor captured the warmth, camaraderie and excitement of a fire station, and to Ethan it now felt like home.
“Rachel, you’ve done an incredible job. This café looks better than I could have ever dreamed.”
The dark wood floors flowed throughout the restaurant, the faux brick was striking, the photos were beautiful and the brick fireplace took the design to another level, artistically speaking. Ethan couldn’t have been more pleased.
“When’s the grand opening?” Rachel asked.
“I’m hoping we open the doors for customers in another week or so.”
By six o’clock the workers had all gone home and Ethan was alone with his café and could begin the part of his job as restaurateur that he enjoyed the most—cooking.
A tap on the glass told him Isa had arrived. By the time he reached the door, she’d moved back to the edge of the sidewalk, her face tilted upward as she examined the new sign. He moved to stand beside her.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“You didn’t tell me you’d chosen a name,” she noted, her eyes still focused upward.
“It just came to me all of a sudden. And it felt right. I wanted to surprise you, to surprise everyone.”
She nodded. They both looked up, reading the sign silently together.
Second Chance Café.
“Well?” Ethan probed.
“I like it, Ethan. You’re right. It fits.”
With a smile, he draped an arm around her shoulders and steered her inside the building. Then he stood happily, soaking in her praise as she admired the dining room.
“So you said you needed my help? I hope food is involved because I’m starving,” Isa said, and Ethan grinned.
“Follow me to the kitchen.” He pushed through the swinging door and Isa inhaled deeply.
“What are you making?”
“We,” he corrected her, “are making corn chowder. I really want to have it on the menu, but my recipe needs tweaking. It’s good, but it needs to be more than good.”
Isa nodded. “Where do you want me, Chef?”
Chef. He liked the sound of that. He tossed her an apron and pointed to a workstation on her left. “Bacon needs to be chopped and fried to a crisp, and potatoes need to be peeled.”
“I’m on it.”
They talked lightly as they cooked together, joking back and forth as usual. Ethan pulled two fruit pies out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. Then he pulled a pan of roasted chicken and vegetables out of the oven, along with a broccoli-and-rice casserole.
“This is enough food for an army, Ethan. What are we doing with all of it?” Isa asked.
“We’re packaging it up and taking it over to José and Maggie. They can freeze it and have ready-made meals.”
Her mouth dropped open. She looked away after a moment. Ethan knew her well enough to assume that Isa was again trying to take control of her emotions. “That’s a great idea,” she said in a quiet voice.
Ethan walked over to her and put both hands on her shoulders. “Isa,” he said, tilting her chin up to make eye contact. “It’s okay, you know.”
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Thank you.” She pushed him back. “Now let me work. And by the way, your corn chowder recipe doesn’t call for cheddar. That’s a mistake. Cheese makes everything better.”
He nodded. “Go for it. Make whatever changes you want.”
* * *
Isa let herself unwind as Ethan gave her the space she needed to cook. He turned on some music while they both worked independently of each other. Isa washed her hands and studied his corn chowder recipe. She hated to admit it, but having a restaurant kitchen at her fingertips was rather fun. She’d spent years alongside her father and brother in the Romano’s kitchen. But now she rarely ever cooked for pleasure for herself. Takeout and fast food had become common parts of her life due to her hectic schedule. She’d forgotten how much she loved cooking with fresh ingredients, taking the time to create something special, something meant to be shared.
For a moment, Isa was distracted. She thought of Ethan’s chosen name for his café, the Second Chance Café. And she couldn’t help thinking of Maggie’s assertion that God was a God of second chances. And third chances and fourth and so on.
The thought comforted her for some reason.
Ethan had already set out a soup pot for her with a stack of ingredients on the counter, along with about six ears of corn. She heated olive oil and butter, adding onion and garlic. She rummaged through the refrigerator for heavy cream and cheddar and set them on the counter.
Once the soup was simmering, she wiped down the counters, enjoying the aroma of the chowder. Her stomach growled and she was pleased to see that Ethan had set out bread and bruschetta for them to munch on while they cooked.
“We haven’t talked about it, you know,” Ethan said.
Isa froze and an uncomforta
ble look crossed her face. “What haven’t we talked about?”
“The fact that you seem to have resigned yourself to dating a chef,” Ethan said lightly.
The clouds in her eyes scattered and Isa pressed her lips together to keep from letting him see her telltale smile.
“I told you, this is on a trial basis, tough guy,” Isa rebuffed.
“Can I ask you something, Isa?” Ethan asked.
She sighed. “If you must.”
“Would you go to church with me sometime?”
She stopped in her tracks and looked at him with interest. She watched him wait while she considered the question.
“Yes,” she said finally.
“Yes?” he echoed.
She spooned a portion of the bruschetta onto a piece of toasted bread, appreciating the aroma of basil and olive oil, tomatoes and balsamic vinegar. She took a bite and let the flavors come together.
“This is excellent bruschetta, Ethan,” she complimented him.
“I’m glad you like it. I figure if I’m going to date a Romano, I should perfect a few of my Italian dishes.”
Isa laughed. “I could help you with that, you know.”
He leaned over the large island in the kitchen, his gaze still full of fun but a little more serious. “Isabella Romano, I’ll take cooking lessons from you anytime, anyplace. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
How did he do that? Get under her skin so easily? Isa stared at her bruschetta, feeling overcome by her pull to Ethan. It was as though he knew the way to reach her. He was verbal and playful and forward and self-confident—Isabella’s own recipe for the perfect guy.
Except there were no perfect guys. She knew that for a fact.
“All right,” he said, interrupting the silence. “So you’re willing to go to my church? How about next Sunday?”
“Yes, I’m willing. And yes, I’ll go next Sunday. The truth is that I haven’t gone to church in a while. Why do you want me to go with you?”
Ethan pretended to think over the subject. “So we can hold hands and text notes to each other.”
She giggled, the sound filling the space between them.
“All kidding aside, Redeemer Community is a great church. Several of the firefighters go there when they’re not on shift. I think you’ll like it. And I’ll like sitting beside you,” Ethan said.
“So you’re not really planning on holding hands, then?” Isabella said, shaking her head with mock disappointment.
“Oh, I’m totally planning on it,” he replied with confidence.
* * *
Isa downed a second espresso only two hours into her shift that night. Being Friday, it was supposed to be her night off, but a friend had needed someone to cover for her because of a family emergency. So as usual, Isa had said yes.
I can’t keep up this schedule. Working all night, going by Mom and Dad’s whenever I can, seeing Ethan every time I have a free moment—I feel like I’m running out of gas. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since before Mandy had baby Tony. It’s been one thing after another and I’m about to crash. I can feel it coming. But what am I supposed to change? I have to work—I’ve got bills to pay. We’re short-staffed with Mags gone, so I have to pick up the slack. Mom and Dad mean everything to me, and I know Mom has more peace of mind when I stop by to check on Dad. Plus, I can see how Dad lights up when I come to see him.
I’ve been running up to the NICU a lot to see Maggie. But she needs all the support she can get. She’s barely hanging by an emotional thread as it is. I try to check in with Mandy as much as possible because I want to be the kind of sister-in-law who helps out when she’s needed and I know Mandy’s adjusting to motherhood and needs help.
Daughter, sister, friend, nurse. Is there even room for girlfriend to be added to that list?
Her thoughts drifted to Ethan and the café and the fun they’d had cooking together. Isabella loved that he’d thought of making food for Maggie and José. Maggie had cried when they’d shown up on her doorstep with sacks of meals to freeze. Isabella thought about baby Bianca and the fact that Maggie wouldn’t be returning to the hospital, at least not for the foreseeable future. The thought of working the night shift without Maggie was a bleak one.
With a sigh, Isabella stood up and made her rounds, feeling exhausted and depressed about Maggie’s resignation.
She also worried about Ethan. The night they’d cooked together, she’d noticed how gingerly he moved. The pain in his back seemed sustained. Granted, he’d experienced a bad fall, but still, she worried about whether he was healing properly. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Being someone who didn’t like it when others pried into her life, she didn’t want to press him if he didn’t feel like discussing it. But she couldn’t help worrying. He winced often without even realizing it.
By the time 6:00 a.m. rolled around, Isabella was running on fumes. Around 1:00 a.m. a bad car accident had resulted in a crowd of people being rushed to the E.R. And a case with a child’s injuries had caused Isabella to involve Child Services right before her shift ended. She trudged through the hospital parking lot, taking a moment to lean against the car and tilt her face up to the sunlight. But even the Colorado sunshine couldn’t revitalize her.
Still, she pulled together what energy she had left and sent her mother a text before leaving to grab a drive-through breakfast sandwich. She then drove over to her parents’ home, feeling a tad guilty she hadn’t been around as much during the past few weeks. With Mandy’s labor and delivery, and then Maggie’s unexpected preterm labor and delivery, Isa felt as though she’d been living in a whirlwind lately. A whirlwind that seemed to revolve around babies. She pulled into the driveway, shocked to see Leo’s car. The sight sent alarm into her chest. She ran to the house and used her key to get in.
“Mom?” she called out. Her mother poked her head around the kitchen and put a finger to her lips. Isa lowered her voice, dropped her purse and rushed to the kitchen. Leo sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee.
“Isa, we were waiting for you. Dad’s taking a nap,” he said, motioning for her to sit next to him. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. Her mother sat across from them.
“I called Leo this morning and asked him to come by after I received your text, Isabella,” her mother explained. “I want to talk to both of you.”
Isa felt her heart plummet. Not more bad news. Please, God.
“At your father’s doctor appointment yesterday, Dr. Rosas recommended we consider brain surgery.”
“Deep brain stimulation,” Isa surmised, letting the notion sink in.
“After speaking with Dr. Rosas, I want Gabriel to have the surgery. She thinks he’s a good candidate.”
“I want to talk with her,” Isa said.
“So do I,” Leo echoed.
Their mother nodded. “I figured as much. We can schedule an appointment to speak with Dr. Rosas. Gabriel’s symptoms are getting worse and the medications aren’t helping as much. If surgery could help with the symptoms…well, I think it’s worth a try.”
“Does Dad want to do it?” Isa asked.
“Absolutely.”
Isa and Leo exchanged a glance. She could see the hope in Leo’s face.
“I’ll call Dr. Rosas to schedule a meeting to discuss it, Mom,” Isa said.
Once she got home, Isa pulled on her pajamas and hopped into bed, knowing her body needed rest. She tossed and turned, trying to get her thoughts to slow down. She finally woke after hours of restless sleep, thankful to have slept at all. Her mind couldn’t seem to stop racing. The clock above the mantle told her it was after 5:00 p.m. She took a hot shower and then plugged in her laptop, determined to research brain stimulation for Parkinson’s patients. An hour flew by as she read articles and surfed different medical sites. Fo
r the most part, she felt encouraged by what she’d read. The procedure wasn’t too invasive and had a good success rate for helping Parkinson’s patients. She knew that nothing short of divine healing would cure her father, but any relief for the symptoms would be welcome.
Isa felt the urge to pray for her dad, for the doctors, for wisdom all around. But she didn’t quite know what to say. The inclination to pour out her heart before God startled her, and her immediate reaction was to hold back.
I don’t want to be disappointed. With God, with relationships, with my dad’s health, with everything—I keep battling disappointment.
She sat at her kitchen table, recognizing and acknowledging the underlying reason for her apprehension. A steady stream of disappointment had killed her hope.
Chapter 10
A bead of sweat fell to the table where Ethan was lying on his stomach the following Wednesday morning, receiving massage therapy after having finished the exercises lined up for him during their session.
“I’m guessing that hurts pretty badly, Ethan. Talk to me,” Keira ordered.
“Yeah,” he panted. “It’s still hurting. The pain meds help, but I wish I didn’t have to be so dependent on them just to get through the day.”
Keira frowned. “Isaac is going to come take a look at you as soon as he finishes up with his current patient. I think we need to talk about your level of pain.”
For the next half hour, Ethan was poked and prodded and examined by Isaac and Keira while answering questions as honestly as he could about his progress, or lack thereof. Before Ethan left, Isaac informed him he’d be speaking with Ethan’s doctor soon about the appropriate next steps, which would include more testing.
He drove straight to the café afterward and eased out of the truck carefully. He stopped, holding on to the door for a moment.
God, I could really use Your help right now. I have a grand opening in days and I’m finding it hard to walk, stand, sit, not to mention cook.
With difficulty, Ethan spent the next two hours training his cooks on the new menu. He sat down as much as possible. He ended the session early and reached for his phone, wanting to hear Isabella’s voice.
