Finally Found

by Lyn Cote

His low, husky voice made prickles run up Spring’s arms.

  “I hate to see the cruise end.” She moved closer to him.

  “I feel the same way.”

  Bliss romped inside her. She’d never thought she’d hear him say those words. Could he be changing? “We didn’t find any backers—”

  He pressed his hand to her lips, stopping her words. “We tried. We did our best. Let’s just enjoy our last night on board.”

  She nodded, holding back happy tears. Marco didn’t even sound like the same man who’d called the cruise a “waste of time.”

  Marco didn’t feel like himself at all. The blond lady in the pink evening gown beside him shimmered in the moonlight like molten Black Hills gold—irresistible. He took a step closer.

  She leaned forward.

  He bent his head.

  She lifted her face.

  His lips touched hers. Spring…

  “Hey! Marco!” Pete’s now familiar voice rocketed through Marco. His hands balled into fists. He turned to face Pete.

  Pete grinned at him. “Sorry to interrupt, old man. But I think we need to talk. Greg and I want to back that clinic of yours.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Had it all happened? Marco still felt a little light-headed. Lavender twilight hugged the Gulf as he opened the door of his car to let Spring into the front passenger seat.

  When she glanced up, he nearly lost himself in the shadowed blue of her lovely eyes. Qué bella es.

  Spring sighed. “I’m glad you’re driving me home. I still feel a little unsteady—the ship and so much happening….”

  He understood the hesitance in her voice. He was experiencing the same kind of disorientation. He’d come home a different man. How could so much occur in three short—change that to very long—days? He’d gone on the cruise just to get everyone off his back. He hadn’t expected it to be so…what? He tried to process all that had happened, all that had shifted, changed.

  Chaotic inside, he settled himself beside Spring and backed his car out of the parking space. “Do you think they were serious?”

  “Yes. Pete can be irritating, always the clown, but evidently he has a serious side. I can’t believe he would tell you something he didn’t mean to do.”

  “I guess you’re right. I just never imagined…” He shrugged his shoulders. I never imagined just how much I wanted to be close to you.

  Spring turned to him with a smile. “Never ask God for something and expect nothing.”

  Her glowing face warmed his blood. Still, he couldn’t just let her statement stand. “But prayers aren’t always answered.”

  “Yes, they are. People only want a firm ‘yes’—usually by way of an eye-opening miracle. They think that’s God’s one and only way of answering prayer. But God answers prayers in many ways and He gives every prayer one of three possible answers.”

  “And what are these three?”

  “They are Yes, No, Wait. We humans prefer yes and tend to dislike the negative and patience answers.”

  “I must be accustomed to the latter two. I’m stunned. I admit it. I never expected to find donors, not big ones. And certainly not Pete and Greg.” When Pete had interrupted his near kissing of Spring, Marco had wanted to deck him. The raw anger he’d felt came back. But it gave way to wonder. Spring, you were ready to let me kiss you.

  She grinned, as though reading his mind. “‘Be careful what you pray for, you might get it’ is another favorite saying of my mother’s.”

  He snorted. “She’s got something there.”

  Spring swirled toward him on the car seat. “Aren’t you happy? Isn’t this wonderful? Pete and Greg will give you the whole down payment for the church—”

  “If I can get nonprofit status.” There was always at least one more hurdle to jump, in his life.

  She waved this objection away with one hand. “They even said they’d draw up the nonprofit status papers for you to sign. Why would the state of Florida deny a free clinic nonprofit status?”

  “I don’t know, but I never take any challenge for granted.” His voice roughened. One’s own hard work was the only thing one could count on.

  “I have faith in Pete and Greg, in the state of Florida, in God and in you, Marco Da Palma.” She faced forward again.

  Don’t turn away. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You didn’t. I just get the feeling that you don’t know how to trust God in every situation.”

  Did Spring have that kind of faith? “Do you?” he asked.

  “It depends,” she replied. “I try to. I think my parents do. It isn’t easy. I usually want to stick an oar in and help God. That’s what Aunt Geneva always says.”

  He gave a sardonic grin. “I believe that.”

  The sweet woman beside him giggled.

  He threaded his way through the darkened streets of Gulfview to her aunt’s house. As he drove through the quieter residential streets, he watched emotion play over Spring’s expressive face. Do you want to be close to me too, Spring? Is that possible?

  Too soon he turned down her street. The early March sun had just dipped below the horizon casting its last golden rays, when he pulled up to her house. He helped her out, then carried her two bags to the door.

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “Yes, that engine problem slowed down our trip back to port, but I enjoyed the extra hours on deck. See?” She held out her arm toward him. “I’m almost golden.”

  Golden. Precious. Radiant. These words describing Spring wended through his mind. He wished for the music of the night before, so he could hold her in his arms again. He took her soft hand, hating to be parted.

  She looked up at him expectantly.

  “Spring, I…the cruise…everything.” He struggled for words. “Our weekend was great. And I didn’t expect it to be anything like it turned out.”

  She grinned at him. “I know. You made that clear. But I saw you mellow.”

  Her smile turned his heart inside out. Tugging on her hand, he pulled her into his arms.

  A little gasp of surprise escaped her.

  He waited. Would she pull away?

  She leaned into his embrace.

  Exultant, he tightened his grasp on her. “Spring, you’re so lovely, so good…I…” He kissed her.

  “Marco,” she murmured against his lips as she twined her arms around his neck.

  Marco immersed himself in the sensations Spring’s kiss released within him. Strength surged through him and possessiveness made him draw her more tightly to him.

  Spring lost the feeling of separateness between Marco and herself. His warm skin under her lips and his strong arms banded around her. She clung to him, not trusting her own strength.

  At last, the delicious, thrilling kiss ended.

  She stared up at him, dazed. She breathed out his name. “Marco.”

  “Mi querida,” he whispered against her cheek.

  She didn’t know the exact translation of his words, but she loved the way he said it with such emotion, such restrained passion. She smiled up at him.

  He loosened his hold on her, bit by bit, as though bringing them both gently back to earth. “I should be going. It’s late,” he apologized, then released her completely.

  She immediately folded her arms in front of her, bereft. “I know. Good night.”

  “Buenas noches, Señorita.” He touched her cheek, then moved away.

  Waving, she watched him walk back to his car. She didn’t go in until his car drove out of sight. Then turning, she opened the door.

  “That was so romantic!” Matilde exclaimed, her hands clasped together.

  “Oh, Spring, darling,” Aunty declared, “the cruise must have been a success! He kissed you!”

  “You two have got to stop spying on me!” Spring protested. Chagrin cut through her, fiery heat burning her cheeks. Even in her anger, though, she realized their spying came from affection.

  The two older women had the honesty to blush
.

  “We didn’t mean anything bad,” Matilde rushed to assure her.

  “Of course not,” Aunty agreed, and bowed her head contritely for a moment.

  Spring shook her head at them. She didn’t begrudge them the joy of seeing what they’d hoped for, but knowing that she and Marco hadn’t been truly alone in that special moment did cause some of its power to evaporate.

  “We’ll never do it again—” Aunty began.

  “We never thought he would kiss you.” Matilde sighed. “And such a kiss, too. My heart melts when I remember…” Matilde’s voice stopped and she blushed a deeper rosy pink.

  “I remember, too,” Aunty said. “A rumble seat. His name was Floyd, but I thought he was the nearest thing to Rudolph Valentino I’d ever see.” She sighed, then grimaced. “My jaw keeps aching. I was just to the dentist before you came, Spring. Ooh. I’m falling apart daily.” Aunty pressed her hand to her jaw.

  “Your jaw, your arm. Do you want me to get your liniment?” Matilde asked with obvious concern.

  “No, I’ll be fine.” But her aunt’s expression belied her short words.

  Matilde shook her finger at Aunty. “You worked too hard today in the garden—”

  “Stop scolding, Matilde.” Aunty grimaced. “A couple of aspirin and I’ll be fine. Now go to bed.”

  Shaking her head at their bickering, Spring picked up her handbag and rolled her wheeled suitcase down the hallway. “Come on. I’ll tell you what happened on the cruise.”

  “Did Marco have luck getting backers?” Matilde called after her.

  “Yes, he—”

  “No, don’t tell me! I want to be able to hear all about it from his mother. You two go ahead. I’m sleepy. Buenas noches!”

  “Don’t tell her Marco kissed me!” Spring begged her.

  “No, no, I won’t!” Matilde promised.

  Spring and Aunty waved good-night to Matilde and walked into Spring’s room. Aunty went straight to the bedside chair as though the short walk had drained her. Uneasy, Spring sank down on the bed.

  “So Marco found contributors?” Aunty rubbed her arm.

  Spring began watching her aunt closely, but replied, “Yes, two alumni who just opened their own law practice north of here in Sarasota. They just won a big case and wanted to tithe their earnings.”

  “Wonderful!”

  “Yes, it’s enough for the down payment on the church…. Aunty, is your arm troubling you?”

  “Yes, Matilde is right. I must have done too much gardening this afternoon, though I didn’t think I did any more than usual—”

  Spring leaned over and took one of her aunt’s hands in hers. What she saw sent her reeling. “Aunty! Your fingernails are turning blue.”

  Aunt Geneva glanced down. “So they are. How peculiar.”

  Spring reached for the phone and dialed, her pulse racing with alarm.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Marco’s cell phone number.” Now she wished he’d stayed and come in with her.

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She held up her hand when the phone was picked up. “Marco, my aunt’s jaw is aching. Her arm is giving her pain and her fingernails are turning blue. Should I be concern— Yes, okay. I will. Thanks.” She hung up and dialed again, sick with apprehension.

  “What’s the matter?” Aunt Geneva asked, sitting forward.

  “He said to call 911.” She kept her tone neutral. “He thinks you’re close to a heart attack.”

  “But—”

  “Hello, this is Spring Kirkland at 677 Mimosa Lane. My aunt, Mrs. Geneva Dorfman, needs an ambulance. Her doctor told me to call. She may be near cardiac arrest. Yes. Thank you.” Spring hung up the phone.

  “I’m not having a heart attack! I just strained my arm.” Her aunt’s face crumbled. “I…oh, oh, my chest…I…”

  “Don’t try to talk.” Again, Spring kept panic out of her tone. “They’ll be here right away. Don’t worry.” She ran to the door, opened it and called, “Matilde! Matilde!”

  Spring held her aunt’s limp hand in the brightly lit emergency room cubicle. Just outside the door, Matilde sat, her eyes closed, her lips moving in prayer. As Spring had driven them to the hospital following the ambulance, she had feared the housekeeper would have a heart attack herself.

  At the hospital, after complaining about a feeling of heavy weight on her chest, Aunty lost consciousness. Now her aunt’s mouth and nose were covered with an oxygen mask, and an IV had been inserted in one arm. She looked pale, sickly pale. Her fingernails were much bluer than when Spring first had examined them at home.

  Marco, please come. Marco! Dear Lord, please take care of Aunty, please take care. Her mind alternated between these two pleas. Spring fiercely held tears at bay.

  A doctor, a stranger to Spring, hovered around Aunt Geneva. “How long had your aunt been experiencing arm pain?”

  “She didn’t say. I’d just come home from a weekend away—”

  Marco strode into the room. “Dr. Hansen!”

  Spring’s heart lurched in her chest. She rose from her chair but retained her aunt’s hands.

  “Dr. Da Palma, Mrs. Dorfman is your patient?”

  “Yes, what have you done?”

  Dr. Hansen handed him the chart. “The usual. I’ve had blood drawn, started an ECG, and ordered a stat chest X ray.”

  Spring heard the words, but didn’t really understand them. She watched Marco’s face, trying to read it.

  Marco nodded and thanked the doctor. He turned to Spring. “I’m glad you called me. When did your aunt lose consciousness?”

  “Just after we arrived here,” Spring replied.

  A nurse came for Dr. Hansen. He excused himself and left with her.

  Spring let go of her aunt’s hand and took a step forward. Marco came to her and wrapped his arms around her. She melted against him, seeking his strength. Just last week she’d never have sought his embrace so naturally. What a difference three days had made.

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “For now.” He kissed her forehead. “Dr. Hansen and the EMTs appear to have her stabilized, and the right tests have been ordered.”

  The touch of his lips fortified her, even as she glanced back at her aunt.

  Matilde stood up and came to the doorway. “Marco, why is she unconscious?”

  He turned his head toward her. “A heart malfunctioning can be painful. She may have fainted because of that. Or lack of oxygen in the blood. She’s being given morphine, which would take away the pain but make her groggy. She’s definitely in distress, but she’s here in the hospital. She’ll get the best care possible.”

  Spring rested her head on his chest, so comforting, so strong. She spoke words straight from her heart. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He tucked her closer to him. “I’m glad you were there. You picked up on the symptoms of impending heart failure exactly. How did you know?”

  “My father has had a few bouts with arrhythmia.”

  Marco tightened his hold on her.

  “Isn’t there anything else we can do?” She glanced into his deep brown eyes.

  “No, mi querida, we’ll watch her closely and make decisions about what is to be done. I’m going to call the staff’s heart specialist. He’ll read the tests, and we’ll consult together.”

  A man in a lab coat entered the room. “I’m here to do Mrs. Dorfman’s chest X ray.”

  Marco nodded, then led Spring from the room.

  She glanced back at Aunty. The electrodes applied to Aunty’s chest, the oxygen monitor on her index finger, the IV in her arm—everything made her aunt look so strange, so alone, so ill. Spring swallowed tears. Dear Lord, help the staff here do what is best for my aunt. I love her so.

  About an hour later, a nurse moved Aunt Geneva upstairs to the cardiac intensive care unit, and Spring followed her. Aunty woke for a moment but was too weak to speak. Spring pressed her aunt’s hand in both of hers. “You’ll be a
ll right, Aunty. Marco is here and everything is going as it should.”

  Her aunt nodded slightly, then closed her eyes.

  Marco drew Spring from the room with him. “You’ll be allowed in only fifteen minutes every hour. We’ll go sit in the lounge area on this floor.”

  Spring objected. “You have to work in the morning. You might have to assist in surgery for Aunty. You need your rest.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  When she tried to object further, he pressed his hand to her lips. She conceded.

  He led Matilde and her to a comfortable lounge area just down the hall. He helped Matilde settle into an arm chair. “Try to rest.”

  Matilde wiped tears from her eyes. “She’s such a good woman.” She clutched Marco’s arm.

  “She’s getting the best care available and she’s a strong woman.” Marco covered Matilde’s hand with his.

  “You are right. She came through a war. She survived losing the man she loved twenty years ago.” Matilde took a deep breath. “I will pray and have faith.”

  Marco nodded and patted Matilde’s shoulder. He motioned Spring to sit on a cushy sofa, then sat down beside her.

  His presence made all the difference to her. Marco wouldn’t let Aunty receive anything but the best treatment. She gave him a tremulous smile.

  She noticed a beige phone on the table beside her, with printed instructions on how to dial an outside local line. More prayers could only help. She opened her purse and pulled out her phone calling card, picked up the receiver and dialed.

  “Mother, it’s Spring. I called for prayer support. Aunty’s in intensive care….”

  Chapter Twelve

  Stiff, Spring sat up and stretched. Instantly, concern for her aunt balled tight in her stomach, making her feel nauseated. She hadn’t left the hospital all night. Aunt Geneva had slept fitfully, but had finally stabilized. Still in cardiac intensive care, she was far from well.

  Slumped back in the corner of the armchair, Matilde looked up, groggy. “What’s happening?”

  Spring glanced at her watch and stood up carefully, unsure of her legs after a night of on-and-off sleeping, sitting up and pacing. With both hands, she tried to brush the wrinkles from her skirt. “Marco and the heart specialist are to meet at seven this morning to make a decision about Aunty and heart surgery. It’s about that now.”