She blushed. "Oh, Antonio."
Ana watched her father in amazement. Around Tessie, he was different. She slanted a glance at Mike to see if he was as amazed and amused as she at the relationship between their parents. He didn't seem to have a problem with it at all. Did she? She'd thought she would. With his mother's criminal record, she hadn't been too excited about Tessie, but she made his father happy. He hadn't smiled for such a long time, but he did around Tessie.
Was Tessie a widow? What had happened to his father? From the way they never talked about him, he must have been gone or dead for a long time. What had Mike done when his mother was in prison if his father was gone?
None of your business, Miss Nosy, she lectured herself.
"I brought dinner," Quique called from the living room. He entered the kitchen and dropped a bag of chips on the table.
"Thank you, Quique," Tessie said politely.
"Nice thought, mano." Raúl laughed.
"Quique knows only three food groups," Ana said. "Fat, carbs and sugar."
"Hey." Quique held his hand up. "I was being thoughtful. I could have just brought myself, which you would also enjoy greatly."
"You're a perfect guest," Tessie said. "I appreciate the addition. Thank you, again." She opened the sack and poured the chips into a bowl.
"De nada," he said with a bow. "You're very welcome."
When Francie and Brandon arrived a few minutes later, Tessie introduced them. Francie seemed interested to meet Ana, smiled and asked her a few questions. Brandon, who was tall, blond and very handsome, hovered around his pregnant wife.
"Why don't you sit here?" He took his Francie's hand, led her to the sofa and helped her get settled. "I'll bring you something to drink."
"He spoils me." Francie grinned as she watched her husband go into the kitchen.
After Luz arrived, everyone grabbed a plate and walked around the kitchen table to load them up. They could chose from the tender brisket, Mike's favorite corn pudding, green bean casserole bubbling under onion rings, bread, tortillas, guacamole, biscuits, salad, and more.
Plates filled, they crowded into the living room to eat. When Ana entered, she saw the four younger ones on the floor, legs crossed, chatting and joking. She was too old to sit that way and much to old for their conversation. Tessie and Francie sat on the sofa with a space between them. Thinking if she sat there, she could get to know both women better, Ana headed in that direction. Before she could sit, Francie scooted into the empty space faster than Ana had ever seen a woman that pregnant move.
Ana turned toward the now-empty place on Francie's left.
"That's for Brandon," Mike's cousin said with a sweet smile.
"Okay." Ana turned toward the folding chair next to Tessie.
"That's for your father." Tessie smiled, also.
Very suspicious, all this smiling and scooting. The only other seats were the two folding chairs in the corner. With a sigh, she gave up and took one of those. This reminded her of the time everyone had pushed her and Mike together on the swing at her family's house. Here, the room was so small they wouldn't be isolated, just extremely close together.
Brandon left the kitchen, handed Francie her drink and plate before he went back to get his own. As he did, Papi sat next to Tessie.
Almost last to come into the living room was Mike. He saw the place next to Francie and headed toward it, but his cousin said, "It's for Brandon. Sorry."
"You might as well give up," Ana said. "They want us to sit together."
Mike stiffened and turned toward the only empty chair before he walked across the room to sit next to her.
"Sometimes," he mumbled, "they are so obvious. I'm sorry."
He was embarrassed and had become Mr. Closed-In again. She hated all this prickliness and careful stepping around his ego. Not that it made a difference. No matter how their families pushed them together, no matter how much she'd enjoyed the interlude in the office, she wasn't sure she wanted attention from a man so much like her father— well, like the way her father used to be. If she were looking for a relationship, a man who smiled and shared more seemed like a better choice.
So why was she so pleased he was sitting next to her? She had to stop kidding herself. As much as she'd tried to forget what had happened there, the interlude in the office showed the tantalizing promise of what could develop between them.
"Francie's your cousin?" Ana asked after a few minutes of silence under the watchful eyes of both families.
As she'd expected, he only nodded.
She'd known better than to ask a yes or no question. She made another effort but missed again. "Are you two close?"
"Yes." The monosyllable fell into the sudden silence of the room.
She glared at her father and brothers. Immediately everyone started loud discussions.
"Why?" There, she'd finally gotten to an information question. Would he answer it?
"When Francie's father went to jail, she went to live with our Uncle Lou. When Uncle Lou went to jail, she came to live with us."
She almost dropped her fork at the information but forced herself to respond calmly, "I didn't realize so much of your family has served time."
"Francie's certain there's a faulty gene involved." He smiled at his cousin fondly.
"But you and your brother?"
"Haven't been in jail, though neither of us have been immune to the call of the wild side." His smile vanished and he stared back at his plate as if he'd said something he wished he hadn't. "Francie pretty much kept me on the straight and narrow."
"What happened when your mother went to jail? Did you live with Francie?" He was silent. For a few seconds, she didn't think he was going to answer. Was she getting too close to him?
"No, Tim and I both went to live in foster families. Tim's was great. They still keep up with him, have him over for meals. None of mine were great." Before she could ask more about Mike's foster families he hurried on, "Francie was eighteen and living on her own, but she wasn't settled enough to take us in."
It felt as if he were speaking, adding facts, to keep her away from what he didn't want to talk about. She'd like to ask him more: Where was his father? What had his foster homes been like? But she didn't. Miss Nosy did have some boundaries, even if her family teased her about never recognizing one.
"The brisket is good," he said after a few minutes of silence. "It has an interesting taste, sort of spicy."
"It's my father's special recipe. I think he puts peppers and chili sauce in before he cooks it, but he won't share it with us. Says it goes to the first son."
"Is Robbie the oldest?'
"No, my oldest brother, Martín, lives in Houston. Also there's Hector who lives in San Marcos and Laura who's a lawyer San Antonio. They're all older than I am. You've met the rest of us."
"Big family."
"You should see it when everyone comes home. We're really packed in with all the spouses and kids."
They ate in silence until Tim said in a voice loud enough to stop the other conversations, "I think I'd like to snowboard."
"Oh?" Tessie tilted her head to try to grasp what he was saying. "Have you ever been on a snowboard before?"
"No, but professional snowboarders make a lot of money," he continued. "Endorsements and stuff."
In silence, they all stared at him.
"Umm, Tim." Mike paused and looked at Ana. "Help me," he whispered. "What can I say to convince him this is a stupid idea?"
"I don't think there are any words to persuade him of that," Ana whispered back.
He nodded and didn't say anything.
"Hey, way cool," Quique said.
"There aren't a lot of snowboarding sites in Texas," Francie said.
"There's not, like, a lot of snow in Texas, period," Raúl added.
"I'd have to go to Colorado." Tim nodded and took another bite of brisket.
"When did you decide this?" Brandon asked.
"Saw it on television, extreme sp
orts. Think I could do it."
By now, everyone was struggling to keep from smiling, but it didn't work. They all started laughing, even Quique and Raúl who were just as likely to go off on such a crazy tangent.
"What?" Tim wailed. "No one ever takes me seriously."
"And you wonder why?" Mike teased his brother.
Ana watched the family chemistry and had to laugh again. It was hard to believe with all the Fuller family had been through, but right now they seemed like any normal family, joking and teasing. A moody Mike looked fine and almost too tempting with his smoldering eyes, but a smiling Mike took her breath away.
Once the room had quieted, Tessie said, "I need your help, everyone. I have to get a job. If you know of any leads, please let me know."
"Tessie." Papi took her hand. "You can always come back to the store."
"Thank you, Antonio, but you don't need me any longer. That would be charity and I want to work, to help Mike support us." She looked back at the room. "So, if anything turns up?"
"We'll let you know," Francie said.
Mike and Ana didn't have a minute alone for most of the evening. Although Tessie suggested they take a walk through the neighborhood, Mike refused. Oh, he refused politely, in a way that didn't hurt his mom's feelings, but, still, it was a refusal and probably the right decision.
After dinner, the two of them ended up washing dishes together, trapped into it when everyone left the kitchen.
By accident, he flipped soap bubbles out of the sink. When they hit her in the face, he looked stricken, realizing what he'd done to the head resident. As a reprisal, she picked up a handful of suds and tossed them on his head, which led, of course, to his slapping the water in the sink, which soaked them both. She squealed when the foam started down her neck.
"What's going on in there?" Quique shouted, followed by low chorus of "shhs" from the others in the living room. "Do I have to come in there?"
That question was followed by whispers of, "No."
"Lot of good your coming in here would do," Ana called back to her brother.
Then she looked into Mike's face. His smile had slipped as he ran his gaze over her wet hair, the drips sliding down her face and neck. Finally, he studied her with eyes dark with longing. Reaching out a finger, he slowly and gently traced a soap bubble that rolled down her neck.
She knew, if they were alone, he would kiss her. For a moment she lost herself in the warmth of his gaze, savoring the attraction that zinged between them. She placed her hand on his arms and leaned toward him, yearning to be closer.
Hearing a movement, she glanced toward the arch to see everyone's eyes, sixteen in all, glued on the scene. She jumped back from Mike. When the families realized she was staring at them, they quickly turned away and began a loud conversation while they returned to their seats.
After he dropped his hand to his side, he looked away from the crowd at the door and finished cleaning up, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the sink. That done, he shouted to those in the living room, "Is everyone ready for dessert?"
Ana moved toward the fridge to take Francie's concoction out but stepped into a small splash of water left over from their horseplay. Her foot slipped from under her, and a searing pain ripped through her right thigh. Biting her lip to cut off the scream, she reached toward Mike as she crumpled. He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her to keep her upright before she could hit the floor.
"What happened? Did you break something?" He held her tense body against him as she balanced on her left leg.
"It's her thigh." Papi ran to his daughter. "An old injury." He took Ana's left arm. "Help me get her to a chair."
Once she was seated, Ana leaned back and forced her body to relax in an effort to relieve the pain. Deep breaths usually helped. She was aware Mike had pulled a chair next to her and had put his arm around her shoulders, but she ignored his closeness and massaged the muscles to alleviate the throbbing.
"Do you want a cold pack?" Mike whispered.
She nodded, and he went to the refrigerator. While she rubbed her thigh, she heard the expressions of worry around her and the start of her father's explanation.
"When Ana was about five," Papi told everyone gathered in the kitchen, "my oldest son Martín was helping me paint the house. Ana wanted to help. No matter how many times I told her, 'No,' she kept asking."
"You know what she's like," Raúl said. "Once she decides on something, she doesn't give up."
Everyone murmured agreement.
"What's wrong with that?" she asked through gritted teeth. She took the cold pack from Mike and laid it carefully on her throbbing thigh.
As if he hadn't heard the question, her father continued. "When Martín and I went into the house for a drink, she got a paintbrush and climbed the ladder. I should have known she would. I should have put the ladder away."
Ana heard the guilt in her father's voice. "Papi, you can't blame yourself. It was all my fault," she said as the pain lessened.
"When she got to the roof," Papi said, "the ladder tipped and she fell, all the way to the ground and onto a storm window we'd taken off."
"Oh, no," Tessie whispered. "What happened?"
"The glass broke and shards tore up the muscles and a lot of other stuff in her thigh. The doctors thought she'd never be able to use that leg again. Even then, Ana refused to give up. She exercised, did physical therapy four times a day, suffered a lot to be able to use the leg."
"But when she twists it, it hurts." Raúl put his hand on his sister's shoulder. "She's the toughest, most tenacious person I know. Nothing stops her from getting what she wants, except that leg."
"But I don't let that happen," Ana said.
"Let's go back to the living room," Francie pulled on Brandon's hand. "It can't be fun for Ana to have everyone watching her."
They left her alone with Mike again. He still had his arm around her shoulder. Now, as the pain began to diminish, she could enjoy his comforting closeness.
"I remember once when I first started work you were in the break room rubbing your thigh." He began moving his fingers up and down her neck in a gentle caress.
"Sometimes if I move awkwardly or stand too long, it begins to ache, but this is the worst it's felt in a long time." She shook her head. "I'm sorry I ruined the party."
"Don't worry." He leaned closer and rubbed his cheek against her hair.
Had he placed a light kiss there, against her curls? She couldn't tell because it happened so quickly, but the thought he might have warmed her.
"I'm better." She looked into his face. Upset because of his worried expression, she rubbed her palm across his cheek. "I'll be okay."
"Take care of yourself, Doctor."
The soft tone of his voice and the concern in his eyes filled her with immeasurable joy.
* * *
The party broke up immediately. When Mike took her arm to help her off the porch and to her car, Ana protested. "I can walk fine. I'm fine."
"Just give it up, Doctor. I'm going to help you whether you want it or not." Actually it was a great excuse to hold and support her.
In spite of her continued objections, when they reached the car, he opened the door and carefully handed her inside.
"I can do this." She pulled her legs inside and turned in the seat.
"I know." Once she was settled in her car and had the key in the ignition, he waved and walked back inside the house.
That may have been a mistake. Maybe he should have waited outside until everyone left, because Francie waylaid him immediately.
"What about the money for school?" she asked.
"Thanks, but I can't accept it. I have to take responsibility for my life and my future."
With a sigh, she nodded. "I knew you wouldn't take it, but I want you to know the offer's always open."
"I know." He hugged her.
Francie squeezed him back then whispered, "Ana's better for you than Cynthia. I really like her. Smart, pretty, nice and j
ust right for you."
"Why does everyone assume Dr. Ramírez and I should be together?" he muttered.
"Because you are, silly. We all know that. You two just haven't admitted it yet."
He hoped she was wrong— and that she was right. "I don't have time for anything else in my life, not now."
"Love never comes at the most convenient time." She looked out the open front door at her husband, who waited on the porch for her. "Who could have believed a parolee would fall in love with her parole officer? Or that he'd love her— that's me— too?"
"But you're special."
"Mike, you're special, too." She kissed him on the cheek then turned to leave.
With the guests gone, Mike headed back to the bathroom. Before he got there, he saw his mother on the sofa, her hand over her eyes.
"What's the matter, Mom?" He fell into the seat next to her.
"Oh." She started and glanced up at him. "How's Ana going to be? I hated to see her in so much pain."
"Fine. She says she knows how to handle this." Mike waited a few seconds as his mother put her hand over her eyes again. "Mom, what's really bothering you? I know it's not Ana."
"It's nothing." But she didn't look up.
"Mom, what is it?"
"Oh, Mike." She looked up at him, blinking back tears. "What if I can't find a job?"
"Mom, you'll find a job. It may take a while, but you'll find one." He patted her shoulder.
"But if I don't, how are you and Tim going to eat? He's still growing. He needs clothes and new shoes, and money to go to a movie every now and then."
"Mom, he's working. He has money to do that. I can work more overtime."
"You know I have to find a job to satisfy the terms of my parole." She sniffed. "I've looked all over. Doors close fast when you're my age, have no skills and a criminal record."
Mike squeezed her.
"They put my name on the list at the Biggy-Mart, but people only get jobs as greeter when one of them dies." She took a tissue and wiped her eyes. "And all the fast-food restaurants have enough kids off for the summer to fill every position." She gulped. "I don't know what I'm going to do."
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