Mendoza's Miracle

by Judy Duarte

“I probably should have called first,” she told Margarita. “Would you let him know that I stopped by to see him?”

  “Of course. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”

  Was that true? Leah wasn’t so sure. And the embarrassment, the uneasiness, only made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut last night, that she hadn’t told him she’d stop by today.

  As she turned away and headed to her car, the door shut behind her. Yet she still couldn’t shake the lingering disappointment that she’d missed seeing Javier—or the stark realization that she might never see him again.

  Chapter Seven

  The wind was cool and breezy, the perfect March day for kite flying—if a guy was still into that sort of thing. But Javier had given up kid games and activities a long time ago.

  It would have been a good afternoon for a run or a bike ride, too. Instead, he climbed behind the wheel of his Expedition and drove himself to rehab. Ever since his discharge from the hospital, he’d been relying on everyone else to do things for him, which had been a real pain. He’d always prided himself on being self-sufficient, in being one to offer aid to others.

  So today he’d taken another step toward independence and control of his life again.

  He’d had a standing twelve-thirty appointment with his physical therapist all week, but he left his house early today, hoping to stop by the third floor to visit the nurses who’d been so good to him and drop off a box of chocolates.

  Okay, so he was actually only looking forward to seeing one of them—Leah. And the candy was merely a ploy to make his visit look legit.

  Margarita had told him that Leah had stopped by to see him that first morning after he’d gotten home from the hospital, but as far as he knew, she hadn’t come back. He probably should have looked her up sooner, but he’d been determined to stand firm on his decision. He didn’t want to strike up any kind of romantic relationship until he was back to normal—or at least until he was walking steadily without the use of a cane.

  He was definitely improving and getting a little better, a little stronger, each day. But he still wasn’t recovering as quickly as he wanted to. Yet after waking this morning, after spending another dream-filled night with Leah, he’d decided to talk to her again, whether he was limping or primed and ready to run a marathon.

  So here he was parking in the visitor’s lot, getting out of the car and reaching for his cane. He still had months to go before feeling even remotely like the man he’d once been, the man who’d been on top of his game, his career, his life. But Javier wasn’t going to let another day go by without seeing Leah.

  Moments later, after limping through the lobby and making his way to the elevator, he got out on the third floor and headed for the nurses’ station.

  Brenna, one of the LVNs who worked with Leah, was talking on the telephone and taking notes. When her call ended, she looked up at him and, as recognition dawned on her face, she broke into a welcoming smile. “What a nice surprise. You’re back—and all in one piece.”

  “Well, not quite yet. But I am getting around on my own now, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello to the best nursing staff in all of San Antonio.” He handed over the gold-foil covered box. “And to give you this as a token of my appreciation.”

  “Well, thank you,” Brenna said. “Aren’t you sweet?” Then she looked up at someone walking their way and called out, “Hey, Leah. Look who’s here.”

  Javier expected the same reaction he’d gotten from Brenna, a bright-eyed smile that announced his visit had been a welcome surprise. But instead, Leah’s lips parted and her eyes widened in a way that seemed…

  Hell, he’d seen that expression once before. On the face of an old lover when they’d accidentally run into each other on the street. He’d always prided himself in being honest, in not dating a woman who cared more for him than he did for them, although that required a woman to be honest with him, too.

  But he and Leah hadn’t been lovers or even occasional dates.

  Just what had been going on between them? And when had it ended?

  “Hey,” he said, for lack of a better opening. “I’m not faster than a speeding bullet or able to leap tall buildings at a single bound yet, but at least I’m mobile and driving again.”

  “I can see that.” She finally smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Was she sorry to see him?

  Again he was struck with that old-lover feeling, the awkwardness. Too bad he didn’t have any sexually explicit memories to go along with that I-didn’t-mean-to-hurt-you feeling as well.

  Leah had on a new pair of scrubs today—a pair of lime green pants and a matching floral print top. Her glossy auburn hair had been pulled back into a single braid that hung down her back. As usual, she wore very little makeup, although she was one of the few women who were beautiful without any of the usual enhancements.

  Her natural beauty, those expressive hazel eyes, full lips…

  Damn. When had she become so much more to him than a nurse? And why did he feel as though he’d somehow dropped the ball?

  “It’s good to see you up and around,” Leah told him.

  Was it?

  “How are you doing?” she asked. “How’s rehab?”

  “It’s tough, but going well.”

  She smiled, her eyes finally showing a sign of the warmth he’d missed seeing.

  However, what he’d really like to see again was the expression her face when she’d left his house that night, when the pheromones had swarmed in the porch light. Maybe he should have kissed her when he’d had the chance, but he’d felt as weak as a newborn foal and had feared he’d fall on his face.

  And no way did he want Leah to continue seeing him as weak and damaged.

  But if he wanted to set things to right, to get back where they’d once been, he’d have to get her alone.

  “When can you take a break?” he asked.

  Again, her lips parted as if his question had surprised her even more than his arrival had. But she glanced at her wristwatch—one of those no-nonsense styles with a leather band. As she did, he found himself focusing on her delicate wrist, thinking that it ought to sport a diamond bracelet instead.

  “Actually,” she said, looking up, “I can probably take a break now. Let me check with Marie, who’ll have to cover for me.”

  Javier gripped the counter of the nurses’ desk and watched as Leah headed down the hall. Moments later, she returned.

  “I’ve got about ten or fifteen minutes,” she said. “Do you want me to find an empty conference room?”

  “No,” he said. “Let’s go out to the rose garden instead. It’s only an elevator ride and a short walk from here.”

  Her eyes finally sparked, as if his suggestion had been a good one, and she nodded.

  Five minutes later, they’d left the hospital and began the trek outside to the rose garden, moving slowly thanks to Javier’s limp and dependence on a cane.

  “It’s nice to see the buds opening up,” Leah said. “It’s usually a beautiful garden, but it’s been pretty stark all winter long.”

  “Now that spring is here, it should be looking good again in another few weeks.”

  She nodded, scanning the quiet grounds. “When the flowers are in full bloom, it’s a beautiful place to reflect or to steal a few quiet moments.”

  Javier wasn’t so much interested in the colors or the beauty the rose garden provided as he was the privacy. He’d just wanted to get Leah alone, but now that he’d done that, he’d be damned if he knew what he would say to her.

  His first thought was to ask her out, even though he was a far cry from being completely healed. And while the wisest thing for him to do would be to hold off a while longer, he’d missed seeing her over the past week and didn
’t want to lose out on what they had—whatever it was.

  So he sat in one of the benches, with its green slatted seats and black wrought-iron frame.

  Leah took a seat, too.

  “I stopped by to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he began. “Not just for doing your job, but for understanding where I was coming from, even when I wasn’t sure myself.”

  “No problem. I’m glad I was able to help.”

  “I know, but it was more than help. You went above and beyond.” He didn’t dare tell her how he’d waited each day for her to show up in his room, how the hours lugged by whenever she wasn’t working.

  Leah glanced down at her feet and at the Crocs that matched her scrubs. He had no idea how many pairs she owned, but he suspected it was four or five—each one coordinating with several different professional outfits.

  He imagined her wearing a pair of spiky heels and a slinky black dress, with her hair swept up in a stylish twist. What he wouldn’t give to see her let loose a little, to be a woman for a change, instead of just a nurse.

  They sat like that for a moment, with him tempted to say the words that revealed his thoughts and feelings rather than those that made more sense. Words that would be safer, wiser…

  He couldn’t go so far as to ask her out.

  Or could he?

  On numerous occasions, when their conversations had taken a personal turn, he’d noticed how she would smile one minute then turn shy the next. It was almost as if she’d been struggling with her feelings for him, as if torn between woman and nurse.

  And wasn’t that exactly how he was feeling? Torn between being a man and a patient?

  So now what? He had her alone for a few minutes longer. Where did they go from here?

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.

  “Mostly, I wanted to thank you for driving me home last week, for fixing my dinner. And also for stopping by to see me again the next day. I’m sorry I missed you. I tried to call but your number is unlisted. I’d kind of hoped you’d come back or leave a number where I could get a hold of you, but you didn’t.”

  There. How was that for letting her know that he’d wanted to see her again without committing to anything else? Was it enough? He certainly hoped so.

  The late morning breeze kicked up a bit, blowing a loose strand of hair across her cheek. As she swiped it away, she said, “I just stopped by your house because I’d told you I would. But I didn’t see any reason to go back. You were in good hands. Margarita seemed both caring and competent. And your family was obviously taking you to your appointments.”

  Did she think he no longer had need of her? When it came to being his nurse, that might be true. But when push came to shove, he’d quit thinking about her as his personal Florence Nightingale a week ago—maybe even longer.

  He turned to the right, his knee brushing against hers and jolting them both with a surge of physical awareness.

  Yes, they’d both been jolted, because she’d been studying those ugly green shoes of hers, then the moment their legs had touched, she’d shot a glance his way and zeroed in on him.

  As their gazes met and locked, that same swirl of pheromones kicked up again, urging him to reach out to her, to draw her close, to kiss her or to make some kind of romantic move.

  But then what?

  He couldn’t afford to be that bold right now, especially when he had no idea if and when he would fully recover. Yet in spite of his best intentions and his conflicting thoughts, he couldn’t help seeking out some middle ground.

  “I’d like to take you out to dinner some night,” he said.

  “You don’t need to do that.” She brushed aside that same pesky strand of hair from her cheek again. “I was just doing my job.”

  They both knew she’d gone the extra mile time and again. And that the seeds of something sexual or romantic hovered over them—both then and now. And while he had no doubts about his ability to make love with her—and to make it good for both of them—he couldn’t offer her much more than great sex and a less than perfect body.

  Still, he pressed on, wanting her to know the direction his thoughts were heading.

  “I’m not asking you to dinner as a token of my appreciation,” he said. “I just thought it might be nice to see you wearing something other than scrubs. To sit across a candlelit table. Maybe to toast the future—whatever it might bring.”

  There. He’d done it. Laid his cards on the table, just to see what she’d say. And if she threw it right back in his face, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He’d never had to deal with something like that before.

  “You want to date me?” she asked, lips parting again, her eyes growing wide.

  Her expression—disbelief or whatever it was—set his heart on end, and he figured he’d better backpedal. It was one thing knowing that he wasn’t good enough for her yet and another to know she was thinking the very same thing.

  Still, it’s not as though his ego couldn’t handle rejection. So he said, “Yes, I suppose you could call it a date.”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, he added, “Not right away, of course. I’ve got a lot of work to do in rehab yet.”

  Damn. Why had he admitted that he wanted to go out with her before he was ready to? He hated laying his vulnerability on the line like that.

  But he didn’t want to lose his opportunity to be with her either. And that was just plumb crazy since he’d never lacked having a romantic interest in his life. And he’d have someone again—as soon as he was walking without that damned cane.

  Yet no other woman interested him right now.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Leah said. “I’ve never dated a patient before.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never dated a nurse before either. But for the record, I’m not your patient anymore.”

  So why wasn’t she jumping at the chance to go out with him? Her hesitancy was a first for him.

  Of course, that’s probably because he only asked women out who appeared to be interested in him.

  And while he’d sensed there was something brewing between him and Leah, he might have been wrong. Damn. Had he lost his touch with women, with his ability to sense their romantic interest?

  He wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t going to grovel or spin his wheels any longer, so he reached for his cane and, using the bench’s armrest to steady himself, got to his feet.

  “Give it some thought, Florence. But there isn’t any rush. By the time I’m actually ready to take a woman out to dinner again, you’ll probably be married with a couple of kids.”

  She merely sat there, her eyes still wide, her lips parted.

  Okay, so he’d definitely lost his touch completely. He could have sworn Leah was feeling something for him, even though they’d never talked about it.

  A slow smile slid across her face. “I doubt that I’ll be married for a long, long time. My job is my life.”

  She hadn’t said yes or no to his question, and he couldn’t help wishing he’d held his tongue, that he’d kept his thoughts to himself.

  After all, why would someone as perfect as Leah want to get involved with someone who was only a shadow of the man he’d once been?

  Rather than let her sense his vulnerability, he slapped on a happy-go-lucky grin and shrugged it off. “Relax, Florence. It was just a wild-ass idea. Maybe I’ll stop by the hospital to see you in a couple of months. We can play things by ear.”

  Then he forced a chuckle, as if he’d been joking all along, and glanced at his wristwatch. “We’ll, I’d better go. I’ve got a rehab appointment in a couple of minutes, and I’m not as quick on my feet as I used to be. Thanks again for being such a top-notch nurse. You deserve one heck of a raise.”

  T
hen he turned and walked away, pushing himself to increase his pace, just so he didn’t have to risk another conversation with her.

  Or to give her the idea that her reluctance to respond had been a lot more painful than telling him the truth—that she didn’t want to go out with him.

  As Javier limped away, Leah sat dumbstruck on the bench. She hadn’t known what to expect when he’d asked to talk to her in private. Or why he’d suggested they walk out to the hospital rose garden, the one place that she chose when she needed to commune with God or nature, the one place she allowed herself to reminisce about the past and to dream about the future.

  She’d thought he might have a medical question for her, something he hadn’t wanted to discuss with anyone else. But he’d just asked her out on a date.

  At least, she’d thought that’s what he’d done. He’d also implied that he wanted to have dinner with her several months down the road.

  Why was that?

  And why not now?

  Sure, the question had taken her aback. He’d asked her in such a roundabout way that she hadn’t known what to say, how to respond. And when she’d been tempted to agree—whether that was wise on her part or not—he’d treated the whole thing like a joke.

  At that point, he’d dropped the subject as though he’d reached out and grabbed the heated end of a curling iron.

  Or course, even if he’d asked her out with a bottle of chilled champagne sitting in an ice bucket, along with two crystal flutes and a bouquet of roses, she would have been even more surprised, more speechless.

  And she wasn’t entirely sure what why was. While he’d been in the hospital and under her care, he’d flirted with her at times, but he’d never gone further than that.

  And he hadn’t actually done so now.

  Either way, he’d just walked off, leaving her to solve the puzzle on her own.

  Or had her hesitancy caused him to retract his question altogether?

  Something told her he’d gotten the wrong message from her. Or maybe she’d been the one to confuse the issue.