Love's Healing Touch

by Jane Myers Perrine

  He didn't seem to notice she was uncool. Instead he scrutinized the bruises he could see, then reached out to take off her glasses. He gently touched the corner of her eye.

  "How does it feel?"

  "Do you want a medical or a personal description?"

  "Personal."

  Something about his being so close and the gentleness of his touch made it hard for her to speak and think. With a concerted effort, she cleared both her throat and her befuddled brain. Neither effort was completely effective.

  "It aches, exactly the way someone like you with a year of medical school would know." She blinked. "I'd be no good in the E.R. because I can't see out of that eye. I have no depth perception."

  He handed back her glasses. Then, being careful not to touch the bruised area, he put his palm on her cheek.

  "How's your arm?" she asked. Oh, the man was potent. It was hard for her to put a few coherent words together with him watching her and so close.

  He rolled up the sleeve on his blue plaid shirt. "Under the bandage, it looks fine. I had good medical care."

  "Did you change the dressing?"

  "Yes, Doctor. Twice a day as instructed."

  She nodded at the same time she realized she'd certainly started their time together off on the wrong foot, more like a medical consult. "I want to thank you again. I was never happier to see anyone than I was to see you."

  Holding the door open, Mike allowed her to precede him then moved to the street side of the walk. A gentleman. She slipped her glasses back on.

  "There's a diner a few blocks down that has great food. It's an easy walk."

  "I've always thought I could do anything I wanted by willing myself to do it." She matched his steps. "But when I saw that man swinging the knife— " she shook her head "— I knew I wasn't going to get out of it alone."

  "You were holding your own. If you'd had better weapons you'd have taken him out."

  "Possibly, but the emesis basin wasn't doing much damage."

  "I've never seen anyone use a crutch as a weapon like a samurai warrior."

  "Only not as successful." She shook her head.

  The thought made both of them smile. "I didn't think I'd ever find the experience funny," she said. "I guess humor is one way to cope."

  As they waited for the light, Ana asked, "What did you want to talk about?"

  He didn't answer, just kept walking. She knew his ability to duck a question. Behind those beautiful dark eyes lived a man as uncommunicative as her father.

  Thank goodness Mike did have such beautiful dark eyes or she might not put up with that.

  "The Best Diner," Ana read the name over the door. "It looks nice." She waved at the big plate glass windows with red-and-white checked curtains.

  "It's my favorite place." Once inside, Mike waved at the cook. "Hey, Manny, why are you cooking breakfast? I thought you only did lunch and dinner."

  "Morning cook got sick." The man Mike had called Manny wiped his hand on his apron and came out of the kitchen. "Good to see you, kid."

  The two men shook hands and hit each other on the shoulder before Mike led Ana to a booth and slid in across from her.

  "Who's this lovely young lady?" An attractive dark-haired waitress dropped two menus on the table.

  "This is Ana Ramírez. She's a doctor at the hospital." He waved a hand at the two who were studying Ana. "Ana, these are two of my best friends, Julie and Manny Trujillo. They're almost like family."

  "What do you mean almost?" Julie said. "We are family." She pointed at Mike. "This is the greatest kid in the world. You be nice to him."

  Ana smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

  "Nice girl," Julie said. "Pretty, too."

  "Come on, Julie. Don't embarrass them." Manny waved toward his wife. "She's always butting into other people's business. Ignore her."

  "Only for their own good," Julie said. She flipped her order pad open while Manny hurried back to the kitchen.

  "Why are you here so early?" Mike asked the waitress.

  "When Manny gets up this early, I can't go back to sleep." She pulled out her pencil. "Talked to your cousin Francie yesterday. She said she's taking it easy but doing okay."

  "She's doing great." He leaned toward Ana. "My cousin used to work as a waitress here."

  "We love her." Julie smiled at Mike. "You want a number four?"

  Mike nodded. "The usual."

  "Don't even write that down," Manny said from the kitchen. "The kid wants orange juice, two eggs, sunny-side up, bacon and a stack."

  "They know you pretty well here." Ana laughed as she studied the menu. "I'd like Fruity Fiber cereal and a cup of coffee. Black."

  "That's all?" Mike asked.

  "Not everyone can eat like you and not put on weight." Julie handed the order to the cook and brought them water and coffee before she moved to wait on another table.

  "Tell me about your name," Mike said. "I know Manny has two. He's Manuel Trujillo Rivera."

  "I use my father's last name, Ramírez, and my mother's last name, Gutiérrez. My full name is Ana Dolores Ramírez Gutiérrez." She took a sip of coffee. "We used to put y meaning and between the names, but no longer."

  He nodded and repeated, "Ana Dolores Ramírez Gutiérrez. Very pretty name."

  "Thank you. Muchísimas gracias." Ana put her cup down before she asked again, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

  He grinned. "You always go right to the problem don't you, Ana?"

  She raised a brow but made no comment when he called her Ana. Of course, she'd told him to, but he hadn't before. He seemed to feel more comfortable with the name now. She guessed saving another person's life did that.

  "I had a great experience the other night." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I want to tell you about it, but this isn't easy for me to share." He stopped for a few seconds. "After the fight in the E.R., I went to the chapel and prayed."

  "I didn't realize you're a religious person." She studied him seriously. Sharing religious experiences had always made her more than a little nervous.

  "For a few months I haven't been. I haven't felt the Holy Spirit in my life."

  "Oh?" She leaned back and bit her lower lip. "Mike, I'm not comfortable discussing religion."

  "I understand. I used to feel that way, too, but I'd like to share what happened."

  Sharing was good. She nodded uncertainly.

  "I prayed for you, Mitchelson, Williams and everyone in the emergency room."

  "Thank you. We can all use that."

  "Here's your juice." Julie set the glass down and topped off the coffee cups before she moved away.

  "Then I prayed for strength and guidance. For myself." Mike took a drink of the juice. "Francie says her faith changed her life, helped her change. I started going to church with her a couple of years ago." He looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds. "This is hard for me to explain."

  "Go on," Ana encouraged. "This conversation makes me feel a little weird, but I know it's important to you."

  "Like I said, I used to feel uneasy about discussing another person's faith, too." He paused and took a drink of water. "Okay. Here's what I wanted to talk about."

  He still didn't say anything so Ana sipped her juice and waited, as hard as that was for her.

  "A few months ago, I went through some hard times. I had to quit med school because my brother and mother came to live with me. I had to work to support us. On top of that, there were some other things going on, too. All that stress and change hurt my faith. I began to believe God wasn't around."

  "And now?" She'd begun to find this interesting. Mike's face no longer looked like stone, as if he couldn't communicate. Now his eyes sparkled with excitement, and he spoke with emotion and conviction. He reached over to take her hand. It felt nice in his, warm.

  "When I was in the chapel, I knew the Holy Spirit was there," he continued. "I prayed and knew my prayers were heard. It's hard to believe, but it happened. I felt it." When she squeezed his hand
, he said, "After I left the chapel, I went up to pediatrics because the parents of a patient wanted to thank me for helping their daughter in the E.R." He shook his head. "They both assumed I was a pediatrician."

  When he didn't speak, she said, "What happened after that?"

  "I walked down the hallway and saw the children in the pediatric playroom." He held her hand more tightly. "I believe I can help children. I know that's where I belong."

  "Okay." She nodded again and waited for him to go on.

  "That's it?" he sounded more than a little disappointed when she didn't share his happiness. "I thought you'd be surprised or excited."

  "Mike." She looked down at their linked hands. "We all know that pediatrics is where you belong. I've told you that. Everyone in the E.R. has told you that."

  He blinked. "Oh, yeah. I forgot, but this time God told me that."

  "Yes, and He is higher on the chain of command. If it took God to knock some sense into you, I'm very happy God took over." She leaned forward. "What does this mean in your life? Will you go back to med school?"

  "I haven't worked the details out, but now I have hope. When everything crashed in on me, it was too much. Now I realize eventually Tim will move out, Mom will find a job, and I won't have to support them for the rest of my life."

  "Did you really think you'd have to?"

  "You've met Tim, right? Didn't that professional snowboarding idea give you some insight into him?"

  "Yes, a little. I can see why you'd thought Tim would be around for a while."

  "It's more like I'm afraid Tim would never grow up."

  "He's always been a little, um, different?"

  "Immature."

  "Well, then, how did you get so responsible while Tim is immature?"

  "Okay, here it is." But he didn't say another word for several seconds. "He's had a rough life. Never knew his father. Dad disappeared after I was born, came back for a year, just long enough for Tim's birth, then left again. When Mom went to prison, we both went into foster care. He drives me nuts sometimes." He fiddled with his napkin. "But I understand why he's the way he is."

  "You went through the same things."

  "Yeah, and at eighteen, I was pretty messed up, too."

  "Is that why you didn't get Tim from foster care?"

  "You know, you don't have to push me all the time." He looked into her eyes. "Right now, I'm willing to communicate without your help."

  "Sorry." She put her hand over her mouth.

  "Anyway, his foster family, the Montoyas, was great. They loved Tim and really helped him. All of us— the social worker, the Montoyas, Tim and I— felt it was better for him to grow up in a strong family because I couldn't take on a twelve-year-old boy with 'attachment issues' then." He shook his head. "I felt guilty about that decision, but I've prayed about it. This was best for Tim."

  She bit her lip. "I don't know much about faith and religion, and I really don't understand prayer, but I'm glad you've made the decision to be a pediatrician."

  As Ana spoke, Julie placed Ana's breakfast in front of her.

  "Thank you," Ana said. "It looks wonderful."

  "Hey, this girl is nice." Julie put Mike's breakfast down and scrutinized Ana for a few seconds.

  Mike wanted to leap to his feet, grab Julie and hustle her back in the kitchen. He knew what she was fixin' to do. Exactly as Manny had warned, Julie couldn't stay out of other people's lives. Why hadn't he remembered that before he brought Ana here?

  "You know," Julie nibbled the end of her pencil, "I like her a lot better than I did Cynthia."

  Chapter ElevenWho was Cynthia?

  Ana became even more curious about the identity of this Cynthia when Mike dropped his gaze to the plate piled high with food, picked up a fork and began to eat with great pleasure.

  She knew that trick, doing something else when he didn't want to talk and hoping no one would notice. That was a tactic her father used when he didn't want to talk about— well, about anything.

  Ana poured milk on her cereal and examined Mike's expression, which showed only enjoyment of his breakfast. "So, who's Cynthia?"

  He took another bite and chewed. When he swallowed, he used his fork to pick up another bite of egg.

  Putting her hand on his wrist to keep the fork on the plate and away from his mouth, she repeated, "Who's Cynthia, and why does the mention of her name make you so nervous?"

  He looked at her then at his fork.

  "I'm not going to stop asking so you might as well answer," she said.

  "Sometimes you're very pushy."

  "I don't consider it a bad quality. Don't try to change the subject. Who's Cynthia?"

  "An old girlfriend."

  "What's so bad about that? I'd expect you to have dated lots of women. You're a very good-looking man."

  He nodded stiffly. "Thank you."

  How cute that he was so uncomfortable. Maybe as attractive as he was, he wasn't the Mr. Cool around women she expected him to be. "Were you serious?"

  He started to pick up the syrup but glanced at her, knowing she wouldn't back down. "We were engaged."

  "What happened?"

  His eyes lifted to her face again before he grabbed the pitcher and poured the syrup over his pancakes. "You're not going to give up?"

  Ana shook her head.

  "Even if it's personal and I'd rather not talk about it?"

  "If it's personal, and you'd rather not talk about it, just say, 'It's personal, and I'd rather not talk about it.'"

  As she'd hoped, the whole thing sounded so foolish that he gave up and said, "She broke the engagement when she found out I couldn't get married for a while."

  "Because of your mother and brother?"

  He nodded. "And because I had to quit med school."

  "Julie's right. I am nicer than Cynthia."

  The words brought a smile to Mike's lips.

  So he'd had to quit med school to support his family and because of that his fiancée had broken up with him. She'd really misjudged him. He wasn't lazy and unmotivated. Just the opposite. Hardworking and determined were very attractive traits to Ana.

  After another sip of coffee, she noticed Manny and Julie watching them, whispering and grinning. Why? Those two were acting as if they thought Mike and she were on a date.

  She blinked. Were they on a date? She really didn't know. She'd thought Mike had asked her for breakfast to discuss how they felt about surviving their shared experience, the terror they'd gone through together in the E.R. less than forty-eight hours ago. Maybe to debrief, to get better acquainted with each other because the incident had brought them closer.

  Perhaps that wasn't the reason.

  He had brought her to a special place, introduced her to friends, held her hand. He'd shared but been embarrassed about his ex-fiancée whom he'd also brought here and probably held her hand, as well.

  This breakfast was beginning to feel like a date the longer they sat together, and a quick glance at his face didn't give her any clues. He was enjoying his pancakes. That was all.

  She really needed to know. If this wasn't a date, she should force herself not to notice how handsome he was or how beautiful his eyes were. But here she was: drooling over his looks, mentally noting his good qualities. She acted as if this were the beginning of, if not a serious relationship, at least some kind of relationship when she had absolutely nothing to go on.

  Yes, it was nice he wanted to share the answer to his prayer and the renewal of his faith. As she took a bite of her cereal, he smiled at her. His eyes showed interest in her.

  Of course, she wasn't very good at interpreting the message found in the eyes of attractive men. Maybe he was smiling because he'd just finished a mouthful of Manny's pancakes. She didn't know, and she'd better find out before she became too infatuated with him.

  A little infatuation she could handle. That was the sort of thing that sent out sparks of happiness and enjoyment and made life more fun, but that wasn't where this train was
heading. Her destination looked to be a Big Infatuation. She didn't want to arrive at that junction alone. She wasn't sure she was willing to risk following that track no matter who was on the ride with her.

  All of which was far more railroad imagery than anyone needed. Right now, she had to find out the reason for this…um, this meeting.

  Date or no date?

  "Why are we here, Mike?"

  Still chewing, he looked up, surprised. When he swallowed, he said, "Don't you like Manny's cooking? Well, probably not because you're eating cereal, but just try a bite of these pancakes." He cut off a small piece with his fork, dipped it in a little syrup, and held it out. "You're going to love this."

  Eating pancakes from Mike's fork seemed a little, um, intimate, but what could she do? It would be rude to allow him to sit there, fork extended and dripping syrup on the table. She leaned across, took the morsel between her lips, chewed and swallowed. He was right.

  "That is good."

  "Yeah, Manny's a great cook. Francie loves his soup, any kind. I promised I'd get her some next time I was here." He checked the large red clock on the wall. "I wonder if he has anything ready this early."

  "Did you eat here a lot when your cousin worked at the diner?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, she…um…started working here after she got out of jail. Julie hired her. We've all been grateful for that."

  What? "Francie was in jail, too?" She attempted to keep the shock out of her voice.

  He nodded again. "Actually, a lot of my family has been, except Tim and me."

  She sat back. Why had Francie been in jail? How did she feel about so many members of his family serving time? Surprised, yes, because Mike didn't look or act like someone from a family of criminals. Francie was doing so well now, and his mother was trying hard to make a new life. Her father had told her that. Her father wouldn't be interested in a criminal.

  But Tessie had just gotten out of prison. She was a criminal. At least, a former criminal.

  "I don't have the best family background, Ana. Francie worked really hard to break us of the family propensity toward crime. I'm determined to make a good life, too, for me and Tim and our mother."

  "What was Francie in prison for?"