Second Chance Sweethearts (Love Inspired) (11 page)

But she didn’t.

She just sat there, quietly absorbing the moment while the flimsy towel absorbed the water.

“Well, there goes your tip, Kevin.” Rigo cocked an eye at the erstwhile waiter.

“Sir, in my entire career of waiting tables, that has never happened.” The teenager never broke character.

“How long’s that been, Kev?”

Kevin brushed back floppy bangs from his brow line. “Well, sir, about five minutes.”

“I knew I should have been stricter in the interview process.” Rigo stood and handed Gloria the paper towel. “Can you get the lady a new house specialty—stirred, not shaken this time—and check on our flounder?”

Kevin nodded and took three steps over to the outdoor kitchen.

“You okay, Glo?”

She wished he hadn’t moved back to his side of the table. “Sure. It’s just fake lemon water. It’s a little sticky, but I haven’t had a real shower since before the hurricane, so this is probably the least of my problems.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Rigo sat back down in his chair.

“What?” She was a little taken aback by his nonchalance. It wasn’t a big deal that some lemonade mix had spilled on her, but she’d put forth a little effort to get ready for tonight. Maybe, in spite of what he said, her attempt at dressing up hadn’t meant a whole lot to him. But still, that little part of her heart that was beginning to come out of hibernation wanted him to care.

He leaned back and looked at her with a measured gaze. “It doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful. Always have been. No sweat or lemonade will ever change that. It’s not about what you wear. It’s about who you are.”

“Rigo, I’ve...”

He held up a hand, palm facing toward her, and spoke. “Stop. Don’t say another word because you’re going to deny it. I know the last few years have been rough for you. I know those days have put doubt in your heart. I know I helped put a lot of that doubt there. But you have to believe me when I tell you that you’re the same person you’ve always been.”

A few tears started to prick at her lower eyelid. She couldn’t look at Rigo, so she looked at the candle glow and hoped the wetness would fade away. “I’ve changed. There’s no two ways about it.”

“Gloria, I’ve seen you call a person from your past that you didn’t want to call in order to protect someone in your care—you put her safety ahead of your own comfort. I’ve seen you stay completely calm and deliver a baby in the middle of total chaos. I know that you’ve already checked on your parents’ house and restaurant and your sister’s house to make sure they can salvage as much of their stuff as possible. And I know you walked an elderly woman to church so she could have the comfort of her faith and friends after a hurricane.”

Inez waved her spoon defiantly. “I heard that. Who are you calling
vieja
?”

“Sorry, Tía. You’re not old. Please don’t burn the flounder in retaliation,” Rigo called out over his shoulder without turning around.

Rigo lowered his gaze and met Gloria’s eyes through the flames. “Even when you’re bossy, it’s just because you want what you see as the best for others. You’re all heart, Gloria, and you give all you’ve got without realizing it—even to your own detriment. How many people have you helped in the last two years without stopping to ask for help for yourself?”

She couldn’t cry in front of him. She just couldn’t. But she couldn’t speak, either.

“I know you haven’t. The first person I asked about when I returned to La Iglesia was you. I wanted to know what service you attended so I could stay out of your way for a while, until you’d had a chance to deal with the fact that I was back. Pastor Ruiz said you came to the late service every week, but he hadn’t really talked to you since planning Felipe’s funeral.”

She shook her head and hoped Rigo thought the solitary tear that snuck down her cheek was lemonade. “I just...I didn’t have anything to say. Everything I’d lived for was gone. Praying about it wasn’t going to bring them back.”

“I understand. When my dad finally made me see I had a problem with alcohol, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, either. I’d made mistakes, and they were my own, and talking to some counselor at a rehab center wasn’t going to change the fact that I’d hurt you or that Felipe might still be here if I hadn’t called him for backup. I have a lot of regrets, Glo. But through time and counseling and returning to the church, I’ve tried to make sure that my regrets don’t become retreads.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded so sure of himself, of where he’d been and what he’d learned. Their situations were obviously different, but she missed being that confident.

Oh, how she missed the old Gloria.

“I mean I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes. I left Port Provident PD voluntarily, but I wasn’t in a good place and that meant I didn’t leave on the best terms. But I’ve come back and found a job that lets me still serve the community and keep the people who live and visit here safe. I didn’t need a do-over. I needed the chance to do better.”

Maybe they weren’t so different, after all. “Like how I moved from traditional L&D to being a Nurse-Midwife, then from the hospital to the birth center. I feel like I can do more for my patients there because of the way we’re structured. I’ve even been able to really be there for clients who have lost a baby. It’s almost become a passion of mine. I don’t want anyone to ever feel as alone as I did that night, in a hospital bed, all by myself, knowing the whole world had changed for me.”

“Gloria.” Rigo reached out and took her hand. “That right there proves my point. You’re all heart. And if nothing else comes out of tonight, but you leave here knowing that...well, that’ll be enough for me.”

She felt an active pushing on her heart, like the forward motion of a wave, nudging her back from the deep waters she’d called home for far too long. It was time to come back to shore. The years hadn’t changed her irrevocably, as she’d feared. Instead, they gave her insight and compassion to do her job—her life’s calling—even better. That was the gift of Mateo’s short life. He made her a better person. Having loved a good man who first picked her up when she thought she couldn’t give her heart to anyone again made her know that love wasn’t just a one-time thing. She’d lost before and loved again. Maybe history could repeat itself.

And she had a most improbable lifeguard to thank for the realization.

* * *

Rigo couldn’t believe the conversation they’d just had. So much had passed between them over the years that he wouldn’t have been surprised if anger or frustration had come up when they talked about the past. He knew the smoothness of their discussion came from God, not because of anything Rigo could have said on his own.

“Sir, madam. Your flounder.”

Kevin presented two paper plates with a flourish. A filet of grilled flounder lay atop a pile of squiggly noodles flanked by a small group of green beans. Compared to the prepackaged food of the past few days, this looked like the best meal that had ever been laid on a table in front of him.

“Thank you, Kevin.” Rigo opened the folded paper towel and laid it in his lap as if it had been a napkin made from the finest linen.

Kevin nodded, making his bangs flap. Rigo had no idea how he swam with all that hair in his face. But he was one of the stars of Beach Patrol. “And now, sir, if you don’t need anything further, Chef Inez and I will leave you and the lady to your meal.”

Rigo could see Gloria gently bite her lip, trying to stifle a laugh at the fake-haughty tone of Kevin’s voice. If the Beach Patrol thing didn’t work out, Rigo would need to remember to advise Kevin to look into acting.

“No, thank you, Kevin. I believe that will be all.”

Kevin bowed solemnly, then opened the small door for Inez. She patted Rigo gently on the shoulder as she passed. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, reminding him of the stars above.

Heaven wasn’t too far away in a place like this, and he could feel the answer to his repeated prayers being worked, even now, under these stars.

The door closed with a click, and they were completely alone on the small widow’s walk. Alone with only the muted sound of rolling waves coming on shore a few blocks away and the glitter in the night sky.

Gloria must have harbored similar thoughts. “Look at them all.” She waved her hand above, sweeping across the sky. “Without the streetlights and such shining, they’re so clear and bright. I can’t remember ever seeing the stars shine like this.”

Rigo leaned his head back. He could see several constellations he remembered learning about when he was a child. It was easy to pick out the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. “There’s the North Star. Always pointing home.”

Absorbed in the display above, Gloria’s voice sounded almost dreamy when she spoke. “Always pointing home. I wonder where that is anymore.”

“What do you mean, Glo? Your home is here, in Port Provident.” Rigo twirled some noodles around the tines of his white plastic fork.

Gloria put a bite of flounder in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before speaking. “I know. It’s just that I’ve wondered today about my house and gone back and forth with some of the options I think I may have. What do I do with it? The damage is extensive. And it’s really more house than I need. We’d bought it to be a family place.”

“Well, what were you thinking of doing?” He took another bite and washed it down with the lemonade.

“I’m leaning toward just putting it on the market. I’ll tear out all the damage, of course, but then sell it instead of fixing it up. I could use the equity and maybe even some of the insurance to start fresh and get a condo on the beach.”

He could tell by the look on her face that she was serious. “So you’ve thought about this?”

“I had a long walk today to and from the clinic and I did a lot of thinking. It’s time to do something different.”

Rigo knew a lot had changed in the past few days. He hoped things weren’t moving too fast. She’d already spoken of how her home and her job and her memories had changed. He wanted to support her but didn’t want to see her newfound progress stalled out when she realized how much change she would be making. Sometimes those realizations led to progress-grounding fear.

“Are you sure?”

“I think so. There’s not much left there to keep anyway. It’s a good house with a nice floor plan. Plenty of people will be returning to the island and will need to make a housing change, too. I’d think someone could take advantage of fixing it up the way they want to.” She chased the last green bean around the plate with the fork. “I have Felipe’s life insurance in savings—I never touched it. And I still get his pension. I imagine the city will make sure salaries and things like that get paid. So even if the clinic doesn’t open back up, I’ll still be able to buy a small condo and be okay financially for a while. You’ve helped me see past my fears. The idea of moving on isn’t so scary right now.”

“I understand that feeling, Glo. I didn’t really want to return to Port Provident at first. I’d made big changes in my life and I didn’t want to come back here and have everyone think I was the same old Rigo. It kept me in Houston, working dead-end security-type jobs for a while. But then, once I realized I just needed to come and do what I needed to do—I gave myself permission to make necessary changes to my plan if things didn’t work out—it made the decision a lot easier.”

“And did things work out?” She laid her fork down and looked up.

He thought quietly for a moment. “Some things have. Others are still a work in progress. So far, I haven’t needed to use Plan B.”

“But you’re happy with the changes you’ve made?”

Rigo stood and took a few steps to the railing. He leaned on it, looking toward the water. “I’m happy right now, here with you. And without those changes, I wouldn’t have this.”

Gloria left the table and joined Rigo at the white wooden gingerbread ringing the edge of the widow’s walk. Rigo turned slightly and moved one step closer to Gloria. He felt it in the air, like the unavoidable siren call of the sea that had turned captains into dreamers who left their women behind on rooftop perches to watch the skyline and wonder.

“Sometimes change moves you forward,” he said, putting his hand on the top of Gloria’s shoulder and turning her. “Sometimes, it takes you back.”

Like the roll of the waves, he leaned his head down and hovered briefly above her upturned face. When she didn’t pull back, he found himself unable to stop the forward motion. Kissing her swept the years away, like the tide washing away footprints left in the sand.

Her hand reached up and slid around his neck, her short fingernails leaving behind a tickle where they danced across the skin.

The kiss felt at once both familiar and new, as if the years had changed them but left their spirit untouched. As he pulled away, he knew that no matter what change came out of this—good or bad—he wouldn’t regret this moment and the chance to share a real kiss with her just one more time.

As the kiss broke, Rigo could feel her touch like an imprint left behind, a memory he’d carry forever. He stood still, trying to read her face. Although he didn’t second-guess kissing her, he didn’t want to make the wrong move now.

“Is this good?” she said. “Or bad?” Her words picked up where their conversation had left off.

“What do you think?” Rigo tried to match her measured tone of voice.

She brushed the hair back from where the light breeze had blown it in front of her eyes. “Not so bad.”

Rigo exhaled slightly. Good. Gloria turned away and focused on the faint lines of waves rolling in the distance. “I know that you’ve changed. I have accepted your apology, and I meant it. I’ve even told people that I can see the change in you—I’ve told it to myself. I want us to move on.” She let out a jagged sigh, the uncertain edges of which nicked Rigo’s heart. “But I don’t know about us moving on
together
.”

“I understand,” he said simply.

His head understood. But his heart felt as though it had been put in one of the headlocks he’d been taught at the police academy, designed to subdue a suspect and restrict their motion.

Wait. That wasn’t right. A
heart
lock. Designed to stifle newly growing feelings and restrict their expression.