Finally Found Read online

  She lowered her slice of pizza. “So tell me about your dream.”

  Chapter Eight

  With the first tangy bite of pizza on his tongue, Marco froze. How could he answer her? He’d only shared this with his mother…and God.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Her sensitive apology pulled the linchpin that had held back his voice. “When I got the chance to buy Dr. Johnson’s practice, I realized that I would be in a position to be of service to my community sooner than if I’d had to slowly build my own practice.”

  She nodded. Marco let the balmy evening wrap itself around them. It was easy to imagine them far away from others on a twilight island. A very pleasant sensation. Her flaxen hair caught the lamplight and glowed like a halo. A dribble of tomato sauce decorated the corner of her mouth.

  The sight made her more endearing than he’d thought possible. He couldn’t help himself. He reached over and dabbed it away with his napkin.

  Grinning, she submitted. “Thanks. Go on. Please.”

  “Well, Tía Rosita is only one of many people who need short-term medical care—”

  “People who slip between the cracks?”

  Her encouragement urged him on. “Yes, people who’ve lost their jobs, people who’ve just immigrated, people whose paperwork gets lost by medicaid or medicare—”

  “Exactly.” She finished her slice. “What have you done so far?”

  Sated by the tasty pizza, he wiped his face and hands.

  Her matter-of-fact attitude made it much easier to bring this subject so close to his heart out into the open. “I’ve been looking around for a site.”

  “In the old downtown?”

  He glanced at her. “Right.” How had she guessed that?

  Nodding, she supplied the answer to his unspoken question. “Real estate’s cheaper and the location’s accessible to more prospective patients and public transportation.”

  Her incisive comments once more caught him by surprise. “That’s true.”

  “Did you find a place?”

  Her unexpected interest in his dream and her nearness made him vibrate inside like a plucked guitar string. He leaned forward in the low light, wanting to see the excitement on her face more clearly. “Yes, there’s a vacant church on Van Buren.”

  She shook her head and rested her back against the chair. “I always hate to see a congregation move out of its building.”

  In the duskiness, her white shorts and her long pale legs reflected the scant light. She took on an ethereal quality, like a fairy princess. The effect made his mouth dry.

  “They outgrew their facility.”

  “Then, they should have planted another church in another neighborhood and helped it get off the ground. Then this community would have two churches instead of one and one empty building.” She shook her head in disapproval. “But parishioners move out of the original neighborhood. The neighborhood itself changes….”

  The common excuse for moving away from people deemed “undesirable” hit him smack between the eyes. Jolted back to reality, he gave a harsh laugh. “Changes. You mean the residents become undesirable.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s often the case.” Spring sat up and leaned forward, too, her elbows resting on the plastic chair arms. “But it’s often hard for people to look past surface differences—and if there’s a language barrier, the gulf can be hard to bridge. And when property values drop, it brings crime.”

  He brushed these excuses aside. “Let’s face it. There are just different kinds of people. New immigrants have always been shunned in America.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

  Looking wounded, Spring bowed her head as though praying. She looked up. “Some of what you say is true. But I think you’re judging people by your preconceptions rather than by reality. You shouldn’t give in to prejudice.”

  He gasped. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Prejudice! Me?”

  She nodded. “Perhaps you’ve been wounded in the past by some people who lack understanding and love for others.”

  “Sheesh. You are a pastor’s daughter.” How could she ignore all the people who looked down on anyone with darker skin or an accent?

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Marco scowled. “I mean…” What did he mean? Could he tell her he thought her idealistic, completely unrealistic? How could he?

  After a few weighty moments of heavy silence passed, Spring looked into his eyes. Laughter from a distant patio contrasted with her serious expression. “So how are you going to pay for the church?”

  He broke eye contact. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure out how to come up with the down payment.”

  “Yourself?” She made it sound as if he’d said something ridiculous. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Almost offended by her sharp tone, he raised his eyebrows at her. “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t do a project like this all by yourself. Even if you could raise a down payment by yourself, how would you come up with the monthly payments or pay for improvements?”

  She’d brought up the questions he’d most wanted to avoid. “I wasn’t planning on doing it all by myself. I thought I might interest another doctor or two. I’ve been praying about that.”

  She leaned closer with a coaxing smile. “Then, it’s time to step out and expect God to do wonders. Definitely, a few more doctors would help, but you need other—”

  Marco shook his head. “I don’t want to be one of those people who goes around with his hand out—”

  She grimaced. “Then, you might as well put the idea away for many, many years. You may finally make enough money to do this all alone or with another doctor. But it could take twenty years or more.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  Stretching her arms overhead as though tired, she smiled at him. “So glad you asked. You don’t realize that you’re talking to a professional fund-raiser.”

  She wasn’t making sense. “You work at the Botanical Gardens!”

  Lowering her arms, she pointed to herself. “I’m the community relations director. My job is to bring the public to the gardens, and that often includes raising money for different exhibits. I’m just the lady you were looking for.”

  “I don’t see—”

  She held up both hands, halting him. “That’s because you don’t have a plan.”

  “A plan?”

  “Before you can go about raising money, you must have a plan.” She began ticking off on her fingers, one by one. “A plan that shows your goals, the good you intend to do, how much is needed and your methods to achieve the clinic.”

  He stared at her, speechless. How could he put this special, secret dream onto a chart for everyone to see?

  She smiled back at him. “After you draw up your plan, you need to get in touch with prospective donors. It’s quite easy, you see.”

  He didn’t see. He regretted exposing his deep aspirations to her. How could he just open up to strangers the way she expected?

  “Oh! I just had a wonderful idea. I know where we can start looking for contributors.” Before he could stop her, she jumped up and hurried back inside. Returning within minutes, she was talking into her cell phone. “That’s wonderful, Mimi. I can’t wait. Great!” She hung up and clapped her hands. “We’re in luck.”

  “Luck?”

  “Yes, our university’s annual spring alumni cruise has had a last-minute cancellation. There’s a cabin open for you!”

  Late, after his office hours the next afternoon, Marco walked into his mother’s fragrant kitchen. “Buenas tardes, Mama.”

  She stood by the stove stirring a pot, the contents of which filled the air with the fragrance of chili pepper. “Marco, hola. What brings you by?”

  He leaned against the worn countertop and tried to think of an answer. Spring Kirkland and her outrageous proposal popped up immediately. He couldn’t believe he’d uncovered his dream to
her. And now a cruise—she wanted him to reveal himself to people who’d shunned him in college. Never! Shaking his head, he glanced into the dinette.

  “How’s Paloma?”

  “She’s in her room studying until Santos comes home.”

  “Is that her penalty for being suspended?” Marco had been concerned about this, hoping Santos wouldn’t precipitate another crisis with a harsher punishment.

  “She’s grounded for another week—except for her Saturday job.” She spooned up a bit of bean mixture, then blew on it to cool it before tasting.

  The mention of the job tightened his nerves. “Why is Paloma working? If she needs help for college, I’ll—”

  “Son, Santos’s business is doing well.” She shook more salt into the pot. “We are well able to pay for her education.”

  “Then, why is she being sent out to work as a domestic?”

  “Marco!” his mother scolded. “Work is good. What is the shame in helping Matilde by doing the heavier jobs? Matilde is nearly sixty now.”

  When he made no reply, she continued, “I’m sorry you had to work as hard as you did, but you chose to go into medicine. That’s much more expensive than just a four-year degree. And Santos was just establishing his business. Otherwise, when you were in college, we’d have helped you more.”

  Marco felt his jaw clench. “My education wasn’t Santos’s responsibility.”

  His mother made a sound of irritation. “After all this time, you still haven’t accepted Santos. Why? He’s a good man. He cares about you.”

  Every word she said rang true, but he couldn’t change his feelings. They’d solidified too many years ago. When he thought of his stepfather, his heart always felt laden, rock hard. “I have no argument with your husband. He’s just not my father.”

  “He’s your stepfather. Without him, I’d still be living in Spanish Town. He’s always tried to make you feel a part of this family, but you always hold back. Why?”

  His mother turned her heated gaze upon him, and he felt the full impact of her words. But he still couldn’t put his response to his stepfather into words. Why did it matter to her? He’d never been rude or disobedient to her husband.

  Marco pushed himself away from the counter. “I’ll be off then.”

  “No!” She pointed her ladle at him. “I’m not letting you do that anymore—walk out when the conversation doesn’t go the way you want it.”

  His lips parted in surprise, he stared at her.

  “Now, you came here to talk to me about something and you’re not leaving until I hear what it is. And you’re staying for dinner. No argument.”

  He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. First Spring. Now his mother. Thoroughly disgruntled with the women in his life, he considered leaving, anyway.

  “I’m making rice, too,” his mother coaxed.

  Black beans and rice, his favorite. He grinned even though he didn’t want to. Glancing at his mother, he took a deep breath. “Spring wants me to go on the alumni cruise with her next weekend.”

  His mother’s mouth dropped open. “Marco!”

  “You’ve given me my answer.” He folded his arms. “It’s ridiculous.” He should feel relieved, but his mood only darkened more.

  “A cruise. How wonderful!” His mother clasped both hands around the ladle handle. “At last, you’re going to take time for yourself. And Spring—such a lovely girl and so sweet! She’s wonderful!”

  “This isn’t what you think!” he cautioned, even as Spring’s face came up vividly in his mind. “I was afraid you’d jump to the wrong conclusion.” His frustration mounted. “I’m just not in her league—”

  “Nonsense! You’re a successful doctor with a fine practice, and I could see how her eyes lingered on you. She likes you. With just a little encouragement—”

  His mother’s reaction made him more than a little desperate. His heartbeat became magnified throughout his body. He couldn’t let anyone know that he wanted Spring even though he was doomed to never attain her. “No! Mother, I don’t have time for romance, and Spring Kirkland isn’t interested in me, never will be.”

  His mother pursed her lips and frowned at him. “Then, why did she invite you to go on the cruise with her?”

  “It’s not like that. This is business.” Just business.

  “What business?” She perched both hands on her hips.

  “You know the church on Van Buren I’ve been looking at as a possible site for my clinic?”

  “Sí.” She turned back to the pot and stirred it.

  “Spring says that I need a plan for the free clinic and I need backers. She says I can get backers on the cruise. You know, from fellow alumni.”

  His mother looked impressed. “That girl has a head on her shoulders. She’s not just a lovely face.” She nodded decisively.

  He’d tried not to think of Spring just in terms of her physical beauty. She’s so much more.

  “So when do you leave?” Mother smiled at him.

  “What?”

  “When’s the cruise?”

  “I haven’t agreed to go.” Marco backpedaled. “It would be a huge waste of time. And an alumni cruise…it’s not my kind of thing.”

  “Why not? Alumni means people who graduated from the same school, doesn’t it? So that means you’d belong. I think a cruise would be a good thing for you to try.”

  I never belonged. He tried again. “But I never went in for social stuff like that at school. Spring was in a sorority.” He remembered grimly the faces, the names of a few guys she’d dated. None of them had been worthy of her. “She’ll want to be with her friends. I’d just be in the way.”

  His mother turned to face him again. “Sometimes I could just shake you.” The dripping ladle waved in front of his nose. “When are you going to realize you need to get away from that hospital!”

  The sound of his stepfather’s car pulling into the carport made them both turn to the outside window.

  “I’ll be going—”

  “No, you won’t!” Mother grabbed his arm and waggled her ladle at him again. “You’re staying for dinner and you’re going to carry on a conversation with your stepfather…or…or else!”

  After enjoying black beans and rice and helping Paloma with her algebra, Marco went to the hospital. He strode up the comforting, familiar hallway; all the clinical scents and sounds soothed his ruffled nerves. He wanted to check on Tía Rosita before going home for the night. Her glucose level still concerned him. He needed to be sure she would be able to go home tomorrow as he’d promised.

  Laughter came from Tía’s room. Spring’s laughter. He froze just inside the door, shock waves radiating through him.

  “Marco!” Tía exclaimed. “Your lady friend came to see how I am!”

  Lovely in a stylish blue dress, Spring turned to him. Her gaze measured him.

  His pulse throbbed in his ears. He could almost hear her asking, what had he decided? He’d have to say no and make it stick. What was dearest to him couldn’t be put on display before people who wouldn’t understand.

  Walking directly to his patient, he pasted a smile on his face. He lifted Tía Rosita’s chart and read the latest notes made by the nurse on duty. Tía’s blood-sugar numbers had stabilized. His smile became genuine.

  “Everything looks excellent. You’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “Gracias, Jesus.” The old woman pressed her hands together.

  Spring beamed. “Praise the Lord.”

  Tía patted Spring’s hand. “This sweet girl has been telling me that you’re going to go on a cruise—”

  “I just said we might go on the cruise,” Spring interrupted.

  Marco cleared his throat, his stomach a simmering pot. He would put a stop to this right now. “I’m not going to be able to get away—”

  “You must go!” Tía insisted. “You take no time for fun.”

  Marco had had enough. Didn’t anybody understand? He hadn’t chosen a “fun” career. People’s lives depended on h
im. He couldn’t just run off to have a good time!

  Spring touched his arm, sensitizing him to her even more. “Marco, don’t take Tía Rosita in the wrong way. You take good care of your patients. You help your sister.” She smiled at him. It melted his aggravation. Did she know her power over him? “Tía just wants you to have a good time.”

  “That’s right,” the plump silver-haired grandmother agreed. “Now, Marco, you walk this pretty señorita to her car. I told her she shouldn’t be out alone after dark. It’s not safe.”

  The ploy smacked of matchmaking, but what could he say? He bid his patient good-night. As Spring strolled at his side to the elevator, he became aware of two things. First, every nurse turned to watch them; second, he had to fight the urge to take her hand.

  Spring entered the elevator first. He followed, then faced their “audience.” At his frown, all the nurses suddenly looked busy.

  When the elevator doors closed, Spring looked down at herself. “Do I have a button open or a stain I didn’t notice?”

  He ground his teeth. “No, they just have never seen me with a woman before.”

  Obviously disconcerted, Spring stared at him while the elevator dropped level by level. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come to embarrass you. I didn’t know you were coming up this evening. I just wanted to visit—”

  “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” He stifled his anger. If anyone was guiltless in this cosmic matchmaking, Spring was. She wasn’t the kind of woman who pursued men.

  The double doors opened. Spring stepped out. Walking beside her, breathing in her light floral perfume, he followed her to the exit. Their progress again elicited staff attention, not even faintly discreet.

  Moments later, once more, they stood together beside her car in the dark, summer-like February evening.

  Spring looked up at him. How she longed to rest her cheek against him and feel his arms close around her. But first she had to make that possible. Even as she fought her own reticence, she had to chip away his defenses, too. Now she had to shake him out of his rut and into her life, or at least try.