Restore My Heart

by Cheryl Norman

  Out of sight, out of mind. Oh, if only it were that easy for her.

  Doctor Singer drew Joe aside in a private consultation room no larger than a closet. “The patient’s father gave me permission to speak to you about Miss Clay’s condition. We’ve repaired the hemothorax. She’s lost a lot of blood, but she should be out of ICU now and into a room.”

  “I don’t understand. Did the surgery not do what it’s supposed to do?”

  “The surgery went fine. I’d expect Miss Clay to heal in record time. She’s physically fit, obviously works out. With her upper body strength, she should be farther along in her recovery. But she’s not improving from the breathing treatments and we don’t want to risk moving her yet.”

  Sweat beaded Joe’s forehead. His pulse thundered in his ears. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m going to have to bar you from visiting her.”

  Stop seeing Sally? “B—but, why?”

  “I’m sorry.” The doctor shook his head, giving Joe a sad smile. “But according to the staff, she becomes very agitated when you visit. Her emotional state is critical to her recovery. Her healing seems to regress after you see her.”

  Joe reeled from his words. “I’d never do anything to hurt Sally.”

  The doctor held up his hand. “No one’s accusing you. The fact remains that in your presence, Sally becomes distraught.”

  Distraught? The BLT sandwich Joe had grabbed at the cafeteria turned to granite in his stomach. “If you’re saying that my visits harm her, I’ll stay away. No questions asked. But I wish I understood why I’ve upset her.”

  “Perhaps when she’s better, we’ll know more.”

  Joe handed the doctor one of his business cards. “My home numbers and e-mail address are on the back. Please contact me when you think she’s up to seeing me. It’s very important.”

  Doctor Singer smiled. “Are you her fiancé?”

  “Yes.” Joe shook hands with the doctor as they stood. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Chapter

  TWENTY-TWO

  Sally eased into her cotton sweater and padded to the chilly kitchen. The tidy counters gleamed from a recent scrubbing. A fresh citrus scent tickled her nostrils. During her hospital stay, Justin Clay had turned into Mr. Clean. Even the ashtrays were empty and spotless. He sat at the table, staring at his coffee. “Dad?”

  His frown deepened. “Should you be up?”

  He’d asked her that every day since she’d been released from the hospital. She gave him the same answer. “Certainly. The doctor said not to spend too much time lying down. Is today Saturday?”

  “Yeah. Want breakfast? I have some of that French toast you stick in the toaster.”

  French toast? Had he remembered? She grinned. “I’d love some. Is there more coffee?”

  He jumped from the table, heading toward the coffee maker. “I thought you didn’t care much for coffee.”

  She slid into a chair, accepting the steaming mug. “If I have French toast, I can drink anything.”

  “Before I forget, this came for you this morning.” He placed a planter filled with English Ivy in the center of the table. “From more of your admirers.”

  “I can’t get over how many cards and flowers I’ve gotten.”

  She’d had no idea she was in so many people’s thoughts. A potted ficus from Mitch, Laquita, and Lamar stood in the corner of the living room. Carnations in a vase from Monette and Jennifer rested atop the television set. A dish garden from Maggie joined the arrangement from Orel. Then there was the huge bouquet from Lucinda, Fia, and Grandma. The Clay house smelled like a florist shop. The get-well cards from family and customers lay stacked on the end table.

  Sally reached for the large card that protruded from the ivy planter on its plastic post. Not known for her gardening skills, she hoped she could keep her new plants alive and thriving. She read the handwritten message inside the card, blinked, then reread it. “Unbelievable.”

  “What is it?” Her father turned from the toaster and leaned over her shoulder to peer at the card. “Janet Bishop.”

  “Roy’s wife. Open and read the message inside.”

  He read aloud, “Please forgive the ranting of grief and hormones. I know you aren’t to blame for Roy’s death. Thank you for catching his killer.”

  Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. She stuffed the card back in its holder. “I never expected that.”

  Her father slid the plate with the French toast in front of her, along with a plastic bottle of syrup. Pausing beside her chair, he squeezed her shoulder. “I need to go open Mustang Sally’s.”

  Looking up, she read the worry in his eyes and covered his hand with hers. “I’ll be fine, Dad. I promise not to do anything strenuous.”

  “Sal said some of your friends were dropping by after the balloon race.”

  That’s right. It was the last Saturday in April. The Great Balloon Race, opening day at Churchill Downs, and the Mini-marathon kicked off Derby Week today. She’d originally planned to watch Nina in the wheelchair competition, but wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while, thanks to Barbara Bloom’s bullet.

  “Probably Jennifer and Monette. Guess I’d better comb my hair, you think?” It would take more than a comb to make her presentable. Maybe they’d bring Laquita. It would be good to see her friends again. Although many had visited her in the hospital, she had been too weak or medicated to appreciate their company at the time.

  “I’ll be home early.” He grabbed his jacket off the chair. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ve got that handled.”

  “You’re cooking?”

  He hesitated at the door. “That lady with the Packard is bringing dinner.”

  “Ellen Kennedy?”

  “Yeah.” He ducked his head. “She wants to see how you’re doing.”

  Sally hid a smile. Ellen had been by the hospital daily, but Sally wasn’t blind. Drugged, maybe, but not blind. Ellen and her dad were attracted to each other. “Great. See you later, Dad.”

  Had it taken a bullet wound to the chest to achieve the miracle of Sally’s dream? No. She and her father had mended their fences before she’d been shot. He treated her with love and concern. They were a family again. He even socialized now, reconnecting with Uncle Sal, mentoring Orel Baxter. Romancing Ellen.

  He and Sally had talked out their misunderstandings and resolved to forgive themselves. They’d forgiven each other years ago but neither knew it. Joe Desalvo had come into their lives and triggered the dialogue. He’d helped Sally see another side to her dad’s behavior, fortifying her to try again. The way her dad told it, Joe had chastised him for his treatment of Sally the night of Roy’s murder, motivating Justin to seek help and straighten out his life.

  Joe.

  He’d been the best thing to happen to Sally in her adult life. What wonderful memories she had. With Joe, she’d been whole, not damaged or handicapped. And she’d finally experienced love. True, unconditional, romantic love. Love so strong, so deep she’d had no choice but to give him up. Finally tiring of her refusal to talk to him, he’d taken the hint and retreated to Atlanta. Relief battled with disappointment that he hadn’t tried to contact her again.

  All for the best. If she believed for an instant that Joe really loved her, she would’ve followed him to Atlanta. She’d work hard to make herself a good corporate wife. But guilt, not love, was driving Joe to cling to her, to beg her to marry him. He’d soon immerse himself in his new responsibilities at work, his memories of her fading. But her memories of him would stay with her forever.

  Dr. Singer never called. Joe knew Sally had been released from the hospital because he’d finally weakened one night and called Sal at the Universal Joint. Sal offered to pass along a message to her until Joe explained Dr. Singer’s warning.

  “I won’t do anything to impede her recovery,” Joe told him.

  “Whatever you say, but I don’t understand it any more than you do.”

  “Mind if
I check back with you later on?” Joe’d asked.

  “Not a bit. I’m here most week nights. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can find out from this Dr. Singer.” Sal also recited his home telephone number.

  After thanking him, Joe had ended the call feeling no better. But at least Sally had improved enough to go home. He’d flown back to Louisville Friday night after a busy first week in his new job. He needed to drive his car home and to watch Nina in the Kentucky Derby Festival Mini-marathon. In addition to his concern for Sally, he also worried about Fia. According to his mother, Fia had been in seclusion since Brendan’s arrest.

  Joe pasted on a smile and hugged Nina at dinner Saturday night, congratulating her on her win in the wheelchair competition. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Have you seen Sally yet?” Nina asked.

  He didn’t want to explain, so he said, “Not yet. She’s home from the hospital, though.”

  “I like her,” Nina said. “Bring her back for Sunday dinner as soon as she’s able.”

  “Excuse me,” Fia murmured, pushing away from the table.

  “You’re not having dessert?” his mother asked. “It’s pecan swirl cake.”

  Shaking her head no, Fia fled the dining room. She’d hardly eaten a bite. Already reed thin, she could afford the extra calories. And pecan swirl cake was one of her favorites.

  Lucinda frowned at Fia’s retreat, then glanced at Joe. With the barest of nods, he excused himself and followed her. He caught up with her strolling toward the stable, her dark braid swishing over hunched shoulders.

  “Sure is cold for the end of April,” Joe said, as he held open the stable door for her.

  “I’m in no mood to discuss the weather, Joey, so go back inside.” She ambled over to Sundance, clicking her tongue to attract the gelding’s attention.

  He wrapped an arm around his sister’s shoulder, tugging her into him. “Hey, this is me. Don’t shut me out, Fia.”

  Rigid at first, she slackened against him. “I don’t want to spoil everyone’s good time.”

  “Things are looking up for everyone but us, aren’t they?” Joe said. “Mom’s collecting more insurance money than she’ll know what to do with, Grandma’s moving back to her apartment, Nina finished the half marathon with an age group win, and nobody’s shooting at us anymore.”

  “You have a vice-presidency, too. Dad would’ve been so proud of you.” She sighed. “So what did you mean, everyone but us? What’s wrong?”

  Joe rubbed Sundance’s reddish brown coat, reminded of the time he’d shown the horses to Sally. “It’s an empty victory. I can’t share it with Dad. Dammit, Fia, I had no idea how hollow my life was until I returned to that job last week.”

  “It’s more than Dad, isn’t it? Is it Sally?”

  “I’m in love with her.”

  “Well, duh. She’s in love with you, too, Bozo. I saw her that day she and her father were looking for you. She would’ve taken on an entire army to find you. Did you know that?”

  Joe couldn’t speak around the sob caught in his throat. He settled for a nod. His brave, sweet Sally. She’d taken a bullet for him. God, he loved her. He didn’t want to dump on Fia tonight, though, knowing how much she was suffering. When he found his voice, he asked, “So how are you, really?”

  “Me? Gee, considering I almost married a murdering, thieving, lying sociopath and am now out of a job, I think I’m doing just fine.”

  “I’ll spare you the clichés, but I know it’s a rough time for you.”

  “God, Joey, I can’t eat or sleep. I’ve moved back in with Mom because I can’t stay there with his stuff. I’m thirty-four friggin’ years old. You’d think I’d have myself together by now. At least if I had a job, I could keep busy.”

  “You’re a vet. You’ll find work, or open your own clinic.”

  “I need a lot of capital to open my own practice.” The wistfulness in her voice didn’t escape him.

  “Hey, you have a brother in the investment business. I should be able to find backing for you.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Me, for starters.”

  Her mouth opened but no words came out.

  Joe grinned. “I have a building full of Dad’s classic cars that I haven’t yet gotten around to selling. I think ‘Sofia’s Horse-pital’ would be a sound investment.”

  Fia smiled, the first genuine smile he’d coaxed from her. “That’s right. I could name my own clinic any damned thing I wanted.”

  “But first I need to have the old cars checked out and listed to sell.”

  “Oh, gee,” she said, tapping her finger against her temple. “I wonder who’s a good mechanic to help you with that.”

  “It’ll take a while, since the mechanic is temporarily out of commission. That’ll give you time to regroup and heal.”

  Her smile vanished. “Ha. That’s a good one. How do I heal?”

  Joe hugged his sister, his heart aching at the bitterness in her voice. “I don’t have the answers. Just take it one day at a time.”

  “No, I can’t just drift from day to day. I’m coming up with a plan to get my life back on track. I’m making some new rules to live by.”

  “Good girl.”

  “And rule number one is don’t ever fall in love again.”

  Joe didn’t argue. After his own sleepless nights and heartache over Sally’s rejection, he understood the wisdom of rule number one. Tomorrow he’d head back to Atlanta. But he wouldn’t wait for Doctor Singer to contact him. He’d give Sally sufficient time to recover. Then he’d be back. And she’d have to tell him to his face that she didn’t want him. He only hoped he could handle it if she did.

  Two months later.

  “There’s a guy here to see you.”

  Emerging from the engine of a 1949 Plymouth, Sally pushed her safety goggles to the top of her head, then grabbed a shop towel to wipe smudges of oil from her hands. She could use a break right now. Even with both Justin and Orel working full time, Mustang Sally’s had enough work to keep everyone busy fifty hours a week. Unfortunately, Sally worked only half-days, thanks to her doctor’s orders and her ever-vigilant dad.

  Abandoning the towel, she pumped a thick dollop of waterless hand cleaner into her palm. “All right, Orel. Send him back.”

  The steps from hard-soled shoes echoed against the barren concrete floor, then stopped. She leaned against the counter and turned toward her visitor. Her heart tumbled against her sore ribs, her breathing ceased. Lord, the man looked good.

  “Excuse me. I’m here to see Sally Clay.” Even in khaki slacks and a polo shirt, he looked too clean for her garage.

  Her dad’s air wrench whined in the background. Orel’s creeper squeaked against the concrete floor. Golden oldies serenaded from Orel’s boom box beside him. But Sally tuned out everything but Joe’s rich baritone voice.

  “I’m Sally Clay.” Retrieving the shop towel, she wiped away the hand cleaner, then tossed the towel to the counter. “What can I do for you, Mr.—”

  “Desalvo” He crowded her, backing her into the workbench.

  “And what can I do for you, Mr. Desalvo?”

  “Joe.” He widened his smile and leaned forward, his hand on either side of her, imprisoning her against the workbench. “Call me Joe. I need help restoring something.”

  “Joe.” So close the warmth of his breath brushed her face, his lips hovered inches from hers. His sandalwood scent filled her senses, his dark eyes heated her blood. She fought for each breath, and it had nothing to do with her healing lung. “What exactly, um, do you need restored?”

  “My heart.” With one hand, he slipped the safety goggles from her head, then stroked her bangs back from her forehead. “It needs a lot of attention.”

  His lips captured hers. She sighed, surrendering to his seductive kiss. Months of separation had only intensified their passion. How had she expected to live without this? Without him?

  He pulled back, his gaze locked on hers. “What would i
t take to convince you to marry me?”

  “Why marry me?”

  “Several reasons come to mind.” He kissed her forehead. “Because you’re the one I want to spend my life with.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “Because I’m so lost without you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Enough reasons?”

  “Um, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t love me enough to marry me?”

  “I love you too much to marry you.”

  Joe’s grin returned. “But you do love me, right?”

  “What about your career? Atlanta?”

  He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m moving to Louisville.”

  Sally recoiled. “Why? Oh, Joe, that promotion was your dream.”

  “A dream is no joy without someone to share it with. Without you in my life, I’m empty.”

  Could it really be true? Joe loved her? Tears clouded her vision. He’d sacrificed his career to be with her.

  “So will you think about it?” Joe asked.

  Sally buried her face in his shirt until she composed herself. “I’m afraid.”

  He rubbed her back, kissed her hair. “What has you spooked about marrying me?”

  “I don’t want you having regrets. You may grow to resent me for your lost career.” She straightened and met his gaze. “Won’t you miss Hot-lanta?”

  Joe chuckled. “Hot-lanta? No, ma’am.”

  “If you call me ma’am one more time, I’m applying for social security.” Her mouth twitched.

  “Deal. But there’s more.” Again, Joe gathered her in his arms. “The senior VP in Atlanta has agreed to let me part-time in Atlanta while I open a satellite office for the firm right here in Louisville. Eventually, I’ll be Resident Manager and working in Louisville full time.”

  “Joe, that’s great!”

  “It’ll be hard work and long hours at first, until I build up the business, because I’ll have dual responsibilities.” His eyes brightened with enthusiasm.

  Thank God he hadn’t abandoned his dream. “But you walked away from the vice-presidency? Aren’t you taking a huge risk?”