Second Chance Sweethearts (Love Inspired) (10 page)

“Because I don’t think I want you to stop there, either.” The words came out in a low-pitched rush, as though she were trying to get them out before she was tempted to take them back.

His heart sputtered a bit, it raced and then thudded with the realization of what he’d said. And with the responsibility. He knew the reason that their dreams had shattered rested on no one’s shoulders but his own. He also knew that righting that wrong rested on his shoulders.

Lord, make me worthy of her. Not just her forgiveness. All of her.

“So where do we start?” Rigo wanted to be respectful of the hint of fear he still saw in Gloria’s eyes. Clearly, she felt the same attraction he did. And clearly she still remembered the past. He was willing to let her take the lead. He owed her that much.

“Well, lunch today was nice. It was good to just share conversation and a meal.”

He’d take her out to the best restaurant in town, three meals a day, to show her he meant what he said. But they were just days past a hurricane taking over their hometown, laying waste to electricity, buildings and fresh food.

Rigo let his gaze rest on Gloria softly. She’d always been pretty, but the years since they were teenagers had allowed her face to grow into true beauty. He loved that she was still petite enough to tuck perfectly under his shoulder and wrap his arms around. He wanted to earn the right to do that again. He knew that, in spite of the havoc the hurricane had brought, he needed to find a way to honor Gloria’s request. He wanted them to rebuild in whatever manner brought her the most comfort. If that was over the quiet company of a meal, then he would make that happen.

“Meet me at the top of Inez’s stairs at eight o’clock.”

“Wait, what?” She gave a skeptical look from the side corner of her eye.

He broke into a grin as the plan came together in his mind. “I’d like to take you out on a date. Would you please do me the honor of dining with me tonight?”

It felt like asking her out for the first time all over again. Roll together all the times he’d asked her to homecoming and prom, and he’d still never been as nervous as right now. So much more was at stake than a dance after a football game and some high school popularity points.

“Rigo. There’s a dusk-until-dawn curfew on. We can’t go out to dinner. And don’t you have to work?” The quizzical look in her eyes intensified and caught the light, giving them a glassy shine.

“Gloria. I help enforce the curfew. But I have a plan. And I don’t have to be back on shift until eleven tonight.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He felt like she was going to say yes, and it made him happier than he’d been in years.

Her lips pursed, bringing his thoughts back in time. He wanted to kiss her. For real. Not just the light touch to the head he’d given her in the nursery. But he knew he couldn’t. Dinner was in the plan. Real kissing wasn’t.

At least not yet.

“I have no idea what you’ve got up your sleeve. But that goofy grin tells me something’s going on in your mind.” She relaxed the curiosity in her stare.

“Do you trust me?”

The words were simple, but the answer was not. If she said no, he knew he’d have to live with that. His actions had brought them to this point, after all.

But his thoughts broke and the prayer of the past days flowed into his mind.
Lord, make me worthy of her forgiveness
. And then a postscript.
Give me the chance to show her the change You’ve brought about in me
.

“Not entirely.” She pointed a slim finger at him, the bubblegum-pink polish roughened and chipped at the end of the nail. “Prove me wrong. You have one chance.”

That was the Gloria he knew and had loved. Feisty. Issuing orders. Not the scared, shattered Gloria of late. He knew how to deal with sassy, secure Gloria.

He knew how to sweep this Gloria off her feet.

One chance was all he needed.

* * *

It felt silly, but Gloria rummaged through the upstairs closet at Inez’s, looking for something nicer to wear than the sweaty and stained T-shirt and shorts that had become her de facto uniform. Of the few things she’d brought in her suitcase, she hadn’t packed anything that fit the bill—because who expected to dress for a date during a hurricane? She felt exhausted, grubby and anything but date material.

A lightweight jersey dress that appeared to belong to one of Inez’s granddaughters hung at the back of the closet. Judging by the style, it had probably been purchased about ten years ago. Gloria shrugged her shoulders—Rigo was a man, and a beach bum at that. He wouldn’t notice if something was the latest style or not. And it was pink and summery and definitely not a dirty T-shirt. It made her feel special and dressed up after days of wearing muck.

She didn’t know why thinking about this evening brought butterflies to her stomach, or why she’d want to spend any effort on salvaging a sundress that wasn’t hers. Or trying to fix her hair into some semblance of order. Or to do anything to not look grubby and disheveled.

But it did seem to matter. More than she was comfortable admitting. And as the minutes ticked closer to eight o’clock, Gloria’s butterflies began to dance and twirl even more noticeably.

At one minute until eight, a knock sounded at the door of the bedroom where Gloria had been staying.

Before words could even be exchanged, Gloria caught Rigo’s gaze sizing her up from head to toe and in between.

“You look beautiful, Gloria. I don’t know where you found a dress in the middle of a disaster-recovery zone, but you did. You’re amazing, as usual.” Rigo beamed broadly. “I thought I would come and pick you up. I’m just glad I don’t have to face your dad. He doesn’t really like me.”

“He doesn’t like how you treated me. He used to like you just fine.”

“Well, that’s good. It means he’ll like me again one of these days.” Rigo put out his arm, like Fred Astaire leading Ginger Rogers to the dance floor. “Because I’m never going to treat you like that again.”

Gloria hoped not. She’d accepted this invitation out of her new belief that she had to forgive Rigo in order to move on. If he inflicted one more bruise on her battered heart, she knew she’d never heal enough to trust or forgive again. The stakes were high and although she wanted to be positive, a part of her held back. It would be skeptical until proven otherwise, no matter what the rest of her wanted to believe.

“Come this way.”

Rigo led her down the hallway to a small door at the end. Painted a polar shade of white, it was smaller than the other doors and didn’t quite fit with the rest of the features of Inez’s Victorian home. In her few days here, Gloria hadn’t even noticed it.

“You’re going to need to duck a bit,” Rigo said, turning the heavy brass sphere of a doorknob.

The small door swung silently on matching brass hinges.

“It’s like Alice’s door to Wonderland,” Gloria said.

Rigo nodded. “It’s Inez’s door to the attic. But it is definitely a door to all sorts of wonder. There are trunks and boxes up here filled with items that have been in my family for generations. Watch your step.”

Gloria tiptoed around a narrow path between boxes and birdcages and rolls of old fabric, jewel-tone colors subdued by years of dust.

“Why exactly are we up in your aunt’s attic?”

He pointed at a staircase barely wide enough to hold two feet, side by side. “You’ll see. Give me your hand.”

This time it wasn’t life and death. She didn’t need to be saved from swirling waters. This time, the simple touch of Rigo’s hand holding hers weighed upon her fully.

It was time to face the truth. She had lived for far too long in a world like those bolts of fabric she’d just passed—neglected, muted by age and far from the original purpose.

Instead of being used, valued and admired, they were stuck in a corner of an attic. She’d been stuck in a corner, too, but she wanted to feel special again and part of something greater than just herself.

Gloria wanted to be loved.

Holding Rigo’s hand reminded her of a time when she had all of that. Could she find it again with him?

Could she trust him?

Could she trust herself?

She tightened her grip, feeling the curve of Rigo’s fingers and the heel of his hand mold to her own. She followed his footsteps up the narrow stairs.

The door at the top of the stairs swung open as they approached it. A quick jolt ran through Gloria. Doors shouldn’t just open.

“Good evening, sir, madam.” A young man in board shorts, a T-shirt and a bow tie nodded at Rigo and then Gloria as he spoke. “My name’s Kevin, and I’ll be your host tonight.”

Gloria stepped through the open door. “What’s all this?”

“Welcome to Inez’s Rooftop Grill,” the young man said.

A small square table covered in an antique lace tablecloth and framed by two utilitarian metal chairs sat in the middle of the small patio area, which was ringed with a narrow white-painted rail topped with gingerbread-style trim. Candles were gathered in a small cluster at the center of the table, and they also graced the tops of other furniture and the porch railing. In spite of the pitch-black night, the stars twinkled and the white utility candles glowed warmly.

“I knew there weren’t any restaurants back open anywhere on the island, but I knew of a really special place. Only a handful of homes on Port Provident have this rooftop deck—it’s an old Victorian feature called a widow’s walk. I’ve been coming up here to watch the stars since I was a kid.”

“Widow’s walk? What an odd name for a porch.” Gloria had never heard the term. It made her think briefly of her own status as a widow. But she pushed the thought aside. As much as she would always carry her time with Felipe and Mateo with her, the past was not going to have a part of her mind tonight.

“The legend says that these little roof walks were where women would go and watch for their men to come home from sea, and they would often wait in vain. I doubt that’s for real, but it’s an interesting story. Can’t you just see some turn-of-the-century woman out here in petticoats watching the horizon?”

Gloria nodded. “A very romantic legend, if a little tragic. I love the history that’s all over Port Provident.”

The makeshift maître d’ gestured toward the folding table and chairs. “Will this table do, sir?”

There were no other tables on the porch. At only about twenty feet long, the little deck-like area made for a pretty solitary makeshift restaurant.

Rigo pulled out a chair for Gloria. “Yes, Kevin, this will be just fine.”

As she sat down, he scooted her toward the table. The heavy antique lace tickled the tops of her knees exposed by the sundress’s short hemline.

“Rigo?”

“Yes?”

“How do you know Kevin? Who is he?”

A smile broke the look of mild concentration on Rigo’s face. Gloria could tell he was as nervous as she felt. Good. Strength in numbers.

“Kevin’s one of my lifeguards. You’ve had his cooking before. He helped grill the steak.” Rigo beckoned the young man back to the table. “Sir? What do you have on special tonight?”

“I’m glad you asked. We have grilled flounder fillets, served over a steaming plate of ramen noodles, with a side of canned green beans from our legendary propane stove.”

Kevin pointed to the edge of the narrow porch. Inez stood behind another small metal table. A tabletop grill blew a small line of smoke out the side. She stirred a pot on a two-burner propane stove and waved a black nylon cooking spoon in Gloria and Rigo’s direction.

Rigo cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and loudly whispered to Gloria. “Chef Inez is well-known in these parts for her
caldo
, but we didn’t have enough bottled water to make that tonight.”

“How did she pull off flounder?” Gloria’s mouth watered just thinking about a main course that didn’t start off as powder in a box.

“Well, not only is he an amazing maître d’ and rescued four swimmers over Labor Day weekend alone, Kevin here is also an accomplished fisherman. He went down to the jetty earlier, and this is what he came back with. The catch of the day.”

“This is a very special restaurant, it seems.” She studied the glow of the candles. Gloria recognized them as the same white candles they’d used to light the room when Tanna was in labor. Only a handful of days had passed since that chaotic night, but it seemed like a lifetime.

She knew without a doubt that she was a different person than she was when she called Rigo in an act of panic. Hurricane Hope had blown and swirled and left no doubt Provident Island was changed.

In those same hours, it seemed hope—the feeling, not the storm—had taken hold of Gloria’s heart and changed it, as well.

“Whatever it takes, Gloria. If it’s building you a restaurant under the stars because there aren’t any others open in Port Provident, then so be it.” Rigo’s tone sounded measured—his patrol voice—and she knew he meant what he said.

Breaking her focus on the little flickers of light dancing on the candlewicks, Gloria looked up and smiled. “Thank you. You put a lot of thought into this.”

“Sir? Ma’am?” Kevin came back over to the table with two bottles of water and two slim white packets. “May I offer you our house specialty? Fresh-mixed powdered lemonade. It’s an old recipe, purchased from the shelves of a big box store.”

Gloria tried hard not to laugh. Kevin obviously had earlier directions from Rigo and took his job seriously.

“Yes, please. It sounds lovely.”

Kevin cracked open each narrow plastic bottle of water, then poured a packet of bright yellow crystals in each, replaced the lid and shook each bottle dramatically off to the side.

For emphasis, he twirled one bottle around his head. Just as emphatically, water sloshed out of the bottle and cascaded over Gloria’s head and down the front of the borrowed knit dress.

She closed her eyes. “Not quite the shower I’ve been dreaming of for a few days, but it’ll do.”

Rigo jumped up and brought a square of folded paper towel to her aid, pressing it to the top of her hair and down her face, soaking up the small rivulets still making their way downward. He knelt at her feet, his chin even with her shoulders. His presence felt so near, she wanted to move away.