Texas Healer

by Jean Brashear

  He lifted the next panel and hammered it into place.

  “Rafe?”

  He whirled at the sound of Diana’s voice.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, looking as uncomfortable as he felt.

  He shrugged. “Couldn’t hear you over the hammering.”

  Silence fell. In it he caught the echo of their last encounter and wanted to ask her what she was doing here, why she’d come out of hiding.

  But she looked as though she was about an inch from taking off like a startled doe.

  So he waited.

  She gestured around the room. “Are you doing this all alone?”

  “Sometimes I have help when I’m here at night, but I have to get this finished.”

  More silence. “Is there anything I could do?”

  He cocked his head, trying to figure out what was different about her. She was nervous, yes, but there was some sort of excitement bubbling beneath her discomfort. “Why are you here, Diana? You told me to stay away.”

  He’d almost swear it was guilt he saw as she lifted her gaze to his. “I know.” She glanced past him. Shook her head. “I meant it, except that I—” She whirled and began to pace. “Listen to me, will you? I sound like some bumbling teenage girl who doesn’t know what she wants. That’s not me. I was never a typical teenager. I’m a very competent woman, I’ll have you know.” She spun to face him, stabbing a forefinger at him. “I can’t figure out what to do with you, Rafe. You—you bother me.”

  Laughter fought with frustration. “You’re a pain in the ass yourself, Doc.”

  She stood stock-still, slack-jawed. Then she surprised him by bursting out laughing.

  He surprised himself by joining in.

  For a moment, Rafe felt as good as he had in years, light and free as the boy he’d once been.

  Eyes still bright with laughter, she studied him. “We should just jump each other’s bones and get it over with.”

  Damn. He could like her. “That’s your professional opinion?”

  She grinned. “Nothing professional about how you make me feel.” The grin turned wry. “I don’t remember a man ever making me want him as you do.”

  Desire hit him hard then, knocking his control to the ground and shattering it into little pieces. “Come here,” he growled, reaching for her.

  Diana danced away, one palm up in warning. “Wait—”

  “Waiting’s over, Diana.” He dropped his hammer to the floor and stalked her. Forget how he knew it was foolhardy. He was long overdue for a mistake like this.

  He grasped her shoulders and brought her against him.

  “Rafe, I—”

  “Did you mean it?” He was already lowering his head to that mouth he’d thought about too much. “You want me?”

  She was breathless, her hands roaming over him even as her gaze jittered with need and something else he couldn’t identify. “Yes. Oh, yes—” Then she wrapped herself around him as a vine encircles a tree.

  She felt so good, he reflected as he kissed her. So right. Insanely perfect.

  Then his mind went on vacation. When Diana moaned and pressed closer, he cursed fate that they were in a building with no locks in the middle of the day in a village where no one treasured privacy the way he did…the way he was sure she did.

  He tore himself away, breathing hard. “Not here,” he said. “Damn it, not here. Not the first time.”

  She stared at him, her own chest rising and falling fast. “I—we—” She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as she closed her eyes and shook her head as if grappling for good sense.

  “Don’t do that,” he demanded.

  “What?” She looked at him, confusion swirling with need and rapidly returning logic.

  “We’re through dancing, Diana,” he warned. “This is the wrong place for what I have in mind, but we’re not finished. You’re not running away again, and I’m through being noble. I don’t know what the hell this is between us, but I want the time to find out. We’ll finish this—don’t think we won’t.”

  “Sex,” she said, wrapping her arms more tightly. “It’s just sex. Just ordinary lust. We need to get it out of our systems and move on.”

  That should be exactly what he wanted, too. Instead he got madder than hell. “You just keep thinking that.” He advanced on her. “But you’d better get a running start back toward Dallas if you intend to hold on to those illusions for long.”

  He could see the temper sparking. “You can’t seriously believe that we—” Then, as though a switch had been flipped, fury gave way to excitement. She grabbed his arm. “I almost forgot why I came over.” Her fingers squeezed. “I’ve got great news for you.”

  “What?” He couldn’t keep up with the lightning-fast shift. “What are you talking about?”

  Joy bubbled up, lighting her whole face. “I’ve got you an ECG and a microscope and a centrifuge and—” She rattled off a list of supplies, all but vibrating with excitement.

  “You what?” He blinked. “Whoa. Slow down. Tell me again.”

  So she did. At the end of her recital, he could only stare at her. “How did you do that?”

  Diana’s smile widened. “I called in chips and played on guilt and made Mercy live up to its mission statement of helping those in need.”

  “Mercy Hospital?”

  “Yeah.” She grinned. “And they’re throwing in the shipping. The equipment can be here next week.” She was practically bouncing on her toes.

  Rafe was trying to take it all in. “I don’t know what to say.” He looked down at her, wishing he could do something to make her smile like that again. “You’re amazing.” He looked around him. “I thought it would take me months, if not years, to gather—”

  He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into a spin, gratitude rendering him speechless. His bad hip faltered; he stumbled but caught her and slid her down his body.

  She rendered his embarrassment harmless as she raised her hands to his face. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt useful,” she said. “I’ve missed it.”

  “Diana—” he said, holding her gaze with his. “I don’t know what to say. How to thank you.”

  “You just did,” she whispered.

  Then they were there again, in that place known only to the two of them. Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers.

  “Rafe,” Evita’s worried shout startled them both. “Where are you?”

  “Damn.” He wondered if he looked as chagrined as Diana did. “I’m in the back room.” Reluctantly, he let Diana go but caught her hand in his. Lowering his voice, he spoke to her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  She shook her head, eyes round. “No, I won’t.”

  Evita burst into the room. “It’s Mariela,” she gasped. “It’s time, Rafe.”

  He struggled to shift gears. “Okay. Tell Ramón I’ll be right there.” He ran through a mental list of what he needed but paused, turning to Diana. “Come with me,” he urged.

  Her gaze wavered for a minute, and he held his breath, surprised at how much he wanted her with him.

  “Rafe, I—” He waited for her refusal.

  To his surprise, she nodded. “What do we have to take?”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Don’t forget where we were.”

  A blush stained her cheeks. “I won’t.”

  When they reached the small brick house, Ramón greeted them at the doorway, eyebrows lifting as he caught sight of Diana. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Have you called my grandmother?” Rafe asked.

  “Not yet,” Ramón answered.

  “Mariela is special to her,” Rafe said. “Call her, but tell her Diana is with me, and we’ll be fine.”

  Diana whipped her head around. “Rafe, I—”

  A slight shake of his head stopped her. “Go ahead, Ramón,” he said easily. “Where are the other kids?”

  “With my mother.” Ramón scrubbed his face. “You’d think I’d be use
d to this by now, but—”

  Rafe smiled and clapped his hand on Ramón’s shoulder. “You love her, amigo. Worry is natural.”

  “Yeah.” Ramón nodded. His mouth turned up in a wry grin. “She wants them, you know—all these babies. It’s not just me, despite what Evita says.”

  “You raise good children,” Rafe said. “You love them and take care of them. They will make the lives of others better because they’ve been cherished. The world needs more people like you two.”

  Ramón still seemed unsettled.

  “She’ll be fine,” Rafe insisted. “Go call Abuelita, then come hold your wife in your arms. We’ll get this baby born.”

  She saw moisture glisten in Ramón’s eyes. “I can’t stand this part. I don’t like it that something so beautiful requires such pain.”

  “Beauty comes with a price. Mariela is willing to pay it.” Diana heard the compassion of friend to friend. The comfort of healer to patient. “She knows she is loved. That your children have a protector. Not all children are so lucky, compadre.”

  It was exactly the right thing to say. The tension in Ramón’s shoulders eased.

  “All right.” Ramón drew in a deep breath as if for strength. “Okay. Go to her, Rafe. I’ll call your grandmother, then I’ll be right there.”

  Such love, Diana thought. What must that be like, to have a man love you so much that he wants to bring forth life with you, yet is consumed by worry over the cost to you, the woman he loves?

  “Ready?” Rafe asked, his eyes intent on hers. “If you don’t want to do this, now is the time to say so.”

  Was she? She’d attended births as an intern years ago but had already been certain her path lay elsewhere. Arrogant and sure that delivering babies was for those with lesser skills.

  But she thought of Rosaria, of how slowly she moved, of the aches that must plague her joints. Diana was as rusty as anyone could be, but she was younger and stronger, even with only one good hand.

  And anyway, Rafe was the expert here. All she needed to do was be a good gofer. If she was honest, she’d admit to curiosity about how this would be handled outside hospital walls. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered.

  He searched her face, then nodded. “All right. Mariela’s an experienced mother, but giving birth is never easy. Just stay calm, and I’ll do the rest.”

  Part of her bristled. Cool under pressure was her middle name. They didn’t call her the Ice Queen for nothing. “I’m not a med student.” She couldn’t quite keep the insult out of her voice. “Let’s get on with it.”

  His mouth quirked. “Point taken.”

  Diana followed him into a small bedroom, where instead of finding Mariela ensconced on the bed she saw her pacing. “About time,” she muttered, then grabbed the bedpost for support as pain tightened her face.

  Rafe’s voice remained calm. “I thought perhaps this time you’d just call me and tell me if it was a boy or girl.”

  After a pause while Mariela gripped the wood and panted, she spoke. “I would,” she muttered, jerking her head toward the door. “But that idiot thought we needed help.”

  Rafe chuckled. “Watching the woman he loves give birth can make the strongest man panic. How far apart are the contractions?”

  Mariela swiped her damp hair away from her face. “Two minutes.”

  “When did you go into labor?”

  “About two hours ago,” she answered.

  “Paulo took a long time,” Rafe remarked.

  “This one is impatient.” Already the strain showed on her face.

  Rafe handed candles and a small matchbook to Diana. “Put these on the nightstands and light them.”

  Diana frowned. One look at Rafe stilled her protest. “All right.”

  “Thank you for taking a look at Ramón’s father,” Mariela said to her, voice tight.

  Diana watched pain sweep over Mariela’s face. “You’re welcome.” She stirred herself to do as Rafe asked, even as she wondered why Mariela was still standing. She shot a look at Rafe, but his attention was focused on Mariela.

  “Let me examine you,” he said. “Lie down for a minute.” He took her arm and led her toward the bed.

  Mariela leaned on him, her jaw tight. “You’d think this would get easier.” Her forehead glistened with sweat.

  “Now is about the right time for you to begin cursing men in general.”

  Her lips quirked faintly. “Forget general. This is as personal as it gets. I’m waiting for Ramón to come back in here so I can blister his ears.”

  Diana didn’t know how Mariela could joke when every line of her body was tense with pain. She dragged her attention away and concentrated on lighting the candles that seemed so superfluous.

  Rafe eased Mariela onto her back, then conducted an examination. “You’re about ready. Feel the need to push yet?”

  This time there was no teasing as Mariela’s breathing grew strained. “I’m going to wait for Ramón.”

  “Let’s hope the child will cooperate.” Rafe smiled. “Check her vitals, will you?” he said to Diana, handing her a stethoscope.

  Startled, still she reached for the instrument automatically, rightness settling into her bones when she clasped it. So long. It had been so long.

  Her fingers fumbled slightly as she adapted to using her left hand. She glanced at her watch and counted. Lifting her head, she started to report to Rafe, then realized he was kneeling before the altar in the corner of the room.

  His head was bowed; his lips moved without sound. Fingers curled around a rosary, he pressed a kiss to the beads, then crossed himself and rose.

  Rapt, Diana watched him. Felt the power that exuded from him in waves. In that moment, he was larger than life, every bit a healer. A champion. She couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  Those seer’s eyes locked on hers, and everything inside her stilled.

  Then Mariela gripped the hand that held the stethoscope and squeezed.

  And Ramón walked through the door.

  Diana blinked. Rafe’s gaze shifted to his patient.

  He was a natural, she realized. Perhaps he had been a warrior, but within him also lay a man who fought death and suffering, who would battle on behalf of those the world ignored. A man of honor and compassion who answered the call, not of fame as Judd Carter craved, but of people who’d been forgotten by a world where profit mattered more than caring.

  She didn’t understand some of the methods he used. Wasn’t sure she ever would.

  But she recognized the calling, understood how it felt—that inner chord that resonated, deep and true, when who you were and what you could do mattered. When you forgot about the world where you needed to pay bills or fought for prestige or advancement.

  She’d experienced the pure moments when she’d held a life in her hands, cradled a beating heart in her palm and made the difference. Brought someone’s husband back, restored a mother to her family. At those times, she, too, had known the breath of holiness. Understood that life could be more than simply survival.

  “Diana.” Rafe handed her a set of gloves to match his, and she snapped out of her reverie.

  “Why are you—” She gestured with the gloves. “I can’t—my hand—”

  “Forget what you can’t do,” he said. “Let’s see what you can.”

  Anticipation rose in her like strong wine, rich and heady. She didn’t hold back the smile as she met his gaze. “All right.” She nodded, working the gloves on, if not with her usual verve. “All right.”

  The pride in his eyes warmed her. “Good.” He turned to Mariela, sheltered now against Ramón’s chest, her hands gripping his hard. “Ready, mamacita? Vamos a dar a luz.”

  Mariela tried to smile, but another pain had her in its grip. “This is the last one, Ramón Vargas, do you hear me?”

  Ramón kept his voice light even as his dark eyes glittered with worry. “You say that every time, querida.”

  “But this time I mean it.” She grunted. “Madr
e de Dios, it hurts—” she cried out. “I have to push, Rafe.”

  Rafe knelt with haste, and Diana wondered at the cost to his hip. “Soy listo, mamacita. Let’s bring this little one into the world.”

  Diana couldn’t help creeping closer, despite the knowledge that she could do little to help. She wasn’t really needed here, but the room swirled with fierce concentration and joy and love.

  The head appeared, cradled in Rafe’s big hands. “You’re doing very well,” he soothed. “One more push, Mariela.”

  Diana spared a glance at the woman, fierce in her determination, her face glowing with purpose. Ramón gripped her torso in his arms, murmuring to her, his own face alight with so much love Diana had to look away.

  The baby slipped out and into Rafe’s hands. “It’s a boy!” he exclaimed. “Suction, please,” he said over his shoulder. Diana grasped the bulb and moved forward, hearing Mariela’s cry of triumph and Ramón’s muttered prayers.

  “Here,” said Rafe. “Hold his head.”

  “I can’t—”

  “I’ll hold his body.” With swift grace, he plucked the suction bulb from her and cleared the infant’s nostrils.

  Terrified because the child was so fragile, Diana added her damaged hand to the good one, holding the slippery, wet head with none of the assurance with which she’d once held human hearts.

  Gently, Rafe rubbed the baby’s chest. The little boy’s mouth opened in a lusty cry.

  “Ay, m’ijo,” Ramón shouted.

  “Let me see him,” Mariela insisted.

  Rafe made the sign of the cross over the child’s forehead and murmured over him in Spanish. The only word Diana recognized was tesoro.

  Treasure.

  She cradled the tiny head in her hand. “It’s a miracle,” she whispered, staring into the baby’s eyes.

  “Every time,” Rafe agreed. He slid his hand under hers and started to rise.

  So warm. His hands always seemed unusually warm.

  For a second, his balance faltered as his hip balked.

  “Let me help.” Diana relinquished her hold on the infant’s head to Rafe and placed her good hand under his elbow to assist him.

  He shot her a glance. Jaw tight, he nodded. “Thanks.”