Second Chance Sweethearts (Love Inspired)

by Kristen Ethridge

  She must have felt his gaze on her, because her eyes fluttered, then she turned her head and looked at him. Her smile wrinkled a bit, as if she were a little shy.

  But she didn’t look away. Her eyes looked like warm maple syrup.

  It made Rigo realize he hadn’t heard a word the pastor had said. And if Gloria kept her eyes turned toward him, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

  He thought he’d never see that look again. It made him grateful, all the way down to his toes, to have had the opportunity to see it again.

  Lord, make me worthy of her forgiveness.

  Yesterday’s refrain came back to him. And maybe, just maybe, looking over at that unsure smile and those maple eyes, framed by that point of her hairline that came down and gracefully shaped her face into a heart...maybe he wanted to be worthy of her forgiveness even more today than he had yesterday or when he’d come back to the island.

  But what could he do to show her that her forgiveness was not misplaced? What could he do to nurture that seed of forgiveness into a sprout of trust?

  Pastor Ruiz closed his brief sermon and asked the church members to join him in prayer. Rigo bowed his head without hesitation. He knew there were so many needs in the community that the pastor would cover—but he had one of his own that he needed to ask God about first.

  * * *

  “Sobrino,” Tía Inez’s voice came through loud and clear, addressing Rigo with the Spanish word for nephew. “Are you able to stay for lunch with all of us? Or do you have to go back to work?”

  Rigo did a double take. “I have a little break, but how is anyone serving lunch?”

  He knew his tone held more than a healthy dose of skepticism. The ladies of the church could make something out of pretty much nothing, but he didn’t know how on earth they could pull together a meal for thirty or so people when there hadn’t been power or water for days.

  Gloria must have picked up on his disbelief because she laughed. “The FEMA folks came by earlier and Pastor Ruiz talked them into leaving a couple of boxes of MREs for everyone.”

  The MREs, Meals, Ready to Eat, had already become something of a legend around town. The Federal Emergency Management Agency had staged trucks of supplies in Houston when Hurricane Hope’s path became clear, and they were able to quickly get water and boxed meals in to those who had stayed behind. Because the causeway had been torn up, everything came across from the mainland by boat. Once the causeway was repaired, other agencies would be bringing catering-style trucks with hot meals, but they weren’t expected until tomorrow at the earliest.

  For now, they all ate field rations and tried to wash the salty cardboard taste that lingered behind with a bottle of water and gratitude for the opportunity to eat a meal of any kind.

  “Venga!” Inez’s shout told everyone to come on. She waved her hands toward a table near the parking lot, which had now become a staging area for debris being brought out of the church. “Come grab what you want. It’s time to eat.”

  Rigo and several of the others picked up folding chairs and moved them closer to the makeshift dining area.

  “Here you go.” He unfolded one next to Gloria. “Mind if I sit with you?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “Tía? What about you?” He set a second chair for himself next to the one he’d put down for Gloria.

  She pointed toward three ladies her own age near a pile of shingles. “I’m going to sit with Maria and Juana. Can you bring a chair for me?”

  “Sure.” He picked up another chair, then turned to Gloria. “While I’m over that way, I’ll go get our entrées.”

  Each box of MREs contained twelve different meals, so he’d have to see what looked most edible of the variety.

  Apparently Gloria’s thoughts ran along a similar wavelength. She called after him with a small chuckle. “Don’t get any of the cheese and egg omelet ones, okay? I hear they taste like sawdust.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Rigo said, bowing low. If only she knew how sincerely he meant that oft-used phrase.

  Lord, make me worthy of her forgiveness. Could an indestructible meal pouch be part of that? God had used food memorably before. Loaves. Fishes. Why not MREs?

  On the other hand, Rigo had already sampled a few of these. Undoubtedly, the disciples had much better eating with fresh bread and the daily catch.

  Rigo presented the beige plastic packet to Gloria with a flourish. “Today, for your dining pleasure, The Hurricane Hope Café is pleased to present beef ravioli.”

  “Sounds tasty.” Gloria tore her bag open. Rigo sat down and did the same.

  “Actually, I’m told this one is the best. I had tuna last night. I’m probably not going to be picking that one again. Do you know how to work these?” Rigo pulled out the food pouch, the heating element, a cardboard sleeve and a slim white pouch with a few ounces of water.

  Gloria dug around in her bag and followed Rigo’s lead. “No, I haven’t had one yet.”

  “Well, these are pretty simple. Pour the water in this large green plastic pouch. It’ll cause a chemical reaction that will heat your food. Slide the sealed food pouch inside and fold it over. Then stuff it inside this cardboard pouch. Like this.” Rigo reached over to help Gloria put everything together and brushed her hand.

  The green plastic pouch didn’t hold the only chemical reaction around here. Rigo was keenly aware of Gloria’s nearness and his own desire to stay close for just a few seconds longer.

  “There. It takes about five minutes for everything to get hot enough. But in the meantime, it looks like we have a lovely pretzel appetizer to go with our bottled water.”

  He laid the pouches of heating food on the ground, then cracked open the two bottles of water he’d also brought over and handed one to Gloria.

  “It’s not exactly a cold bottle of Topo Chico,” he said, naming the popular Mexican mineral water he knew Gloria was partial to. “But it’ll do.”

  Gloria took the offered bottle and then raised it. “A toast?”

  The scene made Rigo chuckle. “Of course. To what? Hurricane Hope?”

  She looked around. “How about just to hope? And a new start.”

  “I’ll definitely drink to that,” he said. They tapped water bottles. “To hope.”

  Rigo looked at his watch. “I think it’s been five minutes.” He reached down and picked up Gloria’s MRE in the cardboard and plastic cooking pouches and handed it to her.

  “Wooo! Caliente!” Gloria bobbled the hot pouch in between her fingers. “Ouch!”

  The steam rose out and scalded Gloria’s fingers.

  Rigo set down his water bottle, took the MRE from her hands and balanced it on the ground against the plastic bottle. He took Gloria’s hand in his own and held it up, fingers spread wide. “Here, let me.”

  He blew gently, then took Gloria’s water bottle and splashed some water on them.

  “Better,” she said, nodding. “Thank you. That took me by surprise. I didn’t expect such a strange-looking little thing to get that hot.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself.” He handed the pouch back to her. It felt good to just be interacting normally. There was no drama of labor or howling winds or looking at hurricane-damaged dreams. Just two people sharing a meal and a conversation. “You know, when I take a girl out on a date, I like to serve up classy meals without injury.”

  Rigo stopped himself from saying anything further. He knew he shouldn’t have made the joke as soon as the words left his mouth. Gloria mixed the contents of her MRE’s food pouch with a spoon, and he couldn’t see her expression due to the short layers of hair falling in front of her bowed head.

  “Do you go on a lot of dates?” Her voice could best be described as monotone.

  Even in Mexico, when he stumbled from bar to be
ach trying to find himself, there hadn’t been other women. And certainly not after he returned to Port Provident, where the memories of Gloria littered every corner and danced between every grain of sand.

  No one measured up to Gloria. So he’d stopped trying to fill that hole a long time ago.

  “It’s been a while.” He hoped she didn’t press him to define it any further.

  “Me, too.” The monotone quality still clung to her voice. “You know, we went out for Italian on our first date. This ravioli isn’t as good, but all things considered, I won’t hold it against you.”

  She looked up through her downcast lashes. He could see a faint twinkle in her eyes. Whether it was the shine of the sun or the light of a good memory that caused it, Rigo’s heart lightened. He’d say he’d missed this Gloria, the girl whose name, “glory,” seemed to perfectly reflect her spirit. But in truth, he’d carried this Gloria in his heart since he was young.

  He looked at her shy smile, lips full and slightly curved. He wanted to kiss her again like he did when they were eighteen and the whole world was at their feet, before he second-guessed himself and broke her heart.

  “Thanks,” he said. He owed her so many apologies, but he didn’t know if he’d ever have the words. If he kissed her, maybe he could make her understand.

  A makeshift church picnic wasn’t the place and this wasn’t the time. But if he ever did have that chance again, he didn’t want to take her in his arms for granted.

  “What’s your schedule look like today?” She set the bag, now empty of highly processed pasta, down at her feet and took a sip of bottled water.

  Rigo finished a bite before answering. “I just got off. I’m not back on shift until tonight. What are your plans?”

  Gloria leaned her head back and rolled it from side to side. He could see the tension in her shoulders.

  “I don’t really know. I’ve been at the restaurant some, pulling out what I could, so Mamí and Papí can get back open sooner. Wow, the smell of the food rotting without refrigeration was terrible. I just put everything I could in trash bags and piled it out on the curb—I didn’t know what else to do with it. I hope I never have to do anything like that ever again. I probably will be at Mamí and Papí’s house later, seeing what all needs to be done there. Who knows when they’ll get back from San Antonio...”

  The sigh at the end of her sentence told him Gloria had more to say. “But what?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “That obvious I was hiding something?”

  The MRE had come with a pack of gum. Rigo unwrapped one piece and popped it in his mouth. The crisp minty flavor cut through the lingering ravioli taste. He offered another piece from the pack to Gloria and she took it.

  “A lot has changed,” he said, looking around what had once been a neat, organized neighborhood only a few days before. “But you haven’t.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. But I am sure I’m avoiding my house. I’ve seen it. I know what I’m up against there, and I just can’t. Not right now.” She scraped her hands through her hair and tucked the flyaway layers behind her ears. “I know avoiding it isn’t going to make it any easier. But I just don’t know when I’ll be ready to go back.”

  “Glo, it’s okay.” His fingers wrapped around the edges of the chair and he locked his wrists tight. It took all the strength he had not to reach out and try to wipe the apprehension off her face. “The recovery hasn’t even really started yet. There’s going to be plenty of time to do what needs to be done. In typical Gloria fashion, you’ve taken on the restaurant and your parents’ house. You’ve been to Gracie’s, too, haven’t you?”

  She nodded. “They have a baby. They’re going to need help.”

  “So do you, Glo. One thing at a time. You don’t have to bear everyone’s burdens.”

  “I don’t really think of it that way.” She bit down hard on the gum in her mouth.

  Rigo leaned forward slightly, wrists and elbows still locked. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s just what I do. I’m a midwife. I’m there for others when they need it.”

  He chewed his gum slowly, thinking about Gloria’s words. She was loyal. Doggedly so. Sometimes she cared too much and she could come across as pushy. But you could always count on Gloria to be there.

  Unfortunately, Gloria couldn’t say the same for him.

  It was past time to change that.

  Lord, make me worthy of her forgiveness.

  The prayer that had been on his heart the past few days now came into his mind without prompting. To be worthy of her forgiveness, he knew he needed to re-earn her trust.

  He just needed to decide exactly how.

  “In fact, Rigo, I’d probably better go. I haven’t had a chance to stop by the clinic yet to see how it fared.” She started gathering the trash from her meal. “I wish we had some kind of phone service. I want to know how Tanna’s doing.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. She got to ride in that helicopter in style. They took her to Mainland Regional Hospital. There are no better hands for her to be in—except yours.”

  She nodded. “I know. It’s just so strange not to be able to check in with one of my moms after a birth. But I am going to check on the clinic. Thanks for lunch. It was good to see you between patrol shifts.”

  He’d take that as a good sign.

  “You, too, Glo. Leave a note in my room if you need anything. My schedule’s going to be crazy for a while, and I’m not at Tía’s house much right now. Speaking of Tía, I’m going to make sure she gets home safely, then I’ve got a few things to take care of myself.”

  He’d been desperate for a pillow before pulling up to the makeshift church service after a twelve-hour overnight shift. But lunch with Gloria had energized him.

  So much needed to be done all over Port Provident. One thing at a time, he’d told Gloria.

  Suddenly, he knew what his one thing was.

  And he couldn’t wait to get started.

  All around, an island waited for hands to reach out and rebuild. Rigo had something even more pressing. He had trust to rebuild.

  Chapter Eight

  The walk between the church and the clinic could not be described as short. It took Gloria more than half an hour in the Texas September sun to make it all the way. But the steps and sidewalks gave her more than enough time to think about all the jumbled fragments in her mind.

  Not only had Rigo stepped back into her life—run back in when she’d called him in a panic, truthfully—but she was coming to rely on him. It was as though the hurricane had blown away the ugliest pieces of their past as it pushed inland.

  “Gloria!” Dr. Pete Shipley stuck his hand out from behind a brown-stained refrigerator balanced near the curb in front of the birth center and waved. “I’ve been wondering about you. How’s your parents’ restaurant? Huarache’s—that’s the name, right?”

  “That’s it, and it’s a mess. About like that break-room fridge you’ve got there.” She gestured toward the rings of duct tape circling the appliance, holding the doors shut.

  Pete wiped his forehead with the back of a rough work glove. “That’s for sure. I didn’t have it in me to even open this thing up. There’s not a big enough emesis basin in the world for how I’d handle this.”

  Gloria nodded her head. “I was at the restaurant yesterday and had about the same experience. Except I couldn’t just move a commercial-sized fridge out to the street. I had to go in. I wished I’d had a Darth Vader mask.”

  “Luke. I am your freezer.” Pete gave the James Earl Jones impression his best shot.

  She let out a hoot of laughter at her boss’s joke. “Something like that.”

  “It’s good to see a smile on your face, Gloria. I was worried about you when I heard you’d stayed with Tanna.” He continued picking up debris in
the yard of the clinic and tossing it in a pile down by the curb. “Watch out. There are nails on the ground.”

  She tossed the shingles toward the pile and dusted off her hands. “Fair enough. My work gloves are at Huarache’s. How’s the clinic?”

  Instead of answering, Pete turned around and faced the little one-story cottage that housed the clinic. “Come on inside. We need to talk about what’s next.”

  Gloria leaned against the doorway in what had been the waiting room of the Provident Women’s Health and Birth Center. She’d figured this was a real possibility, but hearing the news for certain made her knees buckle a bit.

  “I’m really sorry, Gloria. I know this is tough. I hate having to close the clinic, but the loss is just going to be insurmountable.” Pete sat with a thud on the metal chair in the corner and focused blankly at his hands with a look of desperation. “Since the power failure was caused when the water swamped the substation, and business-interruption insurance is tied to the windstorm policy, we’re not going to get any kind of reimbursement for the days we’d be closed. It would take months to get the clinic reopened—months without any kind of income. And I just don’t see us getting enough from the regular insurance once we finish repairs to cover the difference.”

  Although she knew Pete wasn’t exaggerating the dire situation, her head began to spin with knowing more big changes were now reality in her life.

  “I think my home is a total loss, and now to go along with that, my job is a total loss, too. And then there’s all the other mess, too.”

  “What mess? Everything okay?” Pete stopped staring at his open palms and looked up. “Well, aside from the obvious.”

  Gloria could have kicked herself for letting that last part slip. She blamed it on the roller coaster of emotions. Pete had always been a great person to work with, a skilled doctor and a good boss. But she’d never discussed relationships or other deep personal matters with him, and it seemed strange to start now.

  Then again, it wasn’t like they’d be working together anymore.

  “I’ve been staying with the aunt of my ex-boyfriend from high school, Rigo. He lives there, too. And he helped me safely deliver Tanna DeLong’s baby.”