Second Chance Sweethearts (Love Inspired) (19 page)

“So he didn’t call you last night?”

Inez shook her head, light wisps of gray hair swaying beside her temples. “Call me? No. He kind of rushed out of here yesterday afternoon and said he had some unfinished business to take care of. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, threw one of his
tío
Arturo’s army-issued duffel bags over his shoulder and literally ran out the front door.”

Gloria wanted to run, too. She wanted to run from all the “I told you so” admonishments she knew she deserved.

Her father’s dismissal of Rigo boomed inside her head, rattling off the curves of her skull and echoing over and over again.
This coward...

And then she heard Gracie’s words from last night.
I just think you’re smarter than this
...

Steven McLellan had warned her at the dinner. Even that jerk Brock Carpenter had read the situation better than she had—and he’d been proven correct, right in front of his face.

So much for the intuition she’d always prided herself on. Everyone knew she’d been playing with fire. Except her.

As usual, Gloria had thought she knew best.

A Bible verse she hadn’t thought of in years flooded into her mind.
Pride goes before the fall.

She’d fallen for Rigo again. Then she’d fallen mightily.

And this time, she knew the scars would never heal.

* * *

The lack of sleep started to take a toll on Rigo. Last night had been one of the longest nights of his life, and on top of it all, he’d finally dropped off Milton at the treatment center early this morning and then gone to run his one precious errand while in Houston. He’d been let go as soon as the test results came back from the portable lab next to headquarters. The chief of police had been called, as Rigo feared. But upon learning the full story of the night’s events and seeing the indisputable lab results, the chief personally assured Rigo that he’d see to it that details were kept from the media and city hall and also that Carpenter’s actions would be looked into.

Rigo had been running on stress and adrenaline and the panic of contemplating a future without Gloria. All he wanted right now was a breakfast taco, a cup of coffee and a pair of toothpicks to prop his eyelids open. But he had a few more things to cross off his list before he could think about rest.

He knew he’d never settle his nerves until he followed through on a plan he’d made a few days ago. Even though Gloria didn’t want him in her life, and even though he’d decided while sitting on that curb to respect the wishes she’d conveyed in that text, he still had one thing to do. He wasn’t going to try and offer explanations, because although he knew he’d never drink again, he did know he’d disappoint her again—that was just part of life—and he couldn’t bear to put her through that anymore, no matter how small those future disappointments might be.

He’d just check this box—one that he’d been so excited about just a little over forty-eight hours ago—and move on. And then he’d let Gloria do the same.

The back door to Huarache’s stood slightly ajar, propped open by a metal chair with red vinyl-covered padding.

Rigo had faced swirling surf to save drowning swimmers. He’d heard the loud volley of shots fired around him by a criminal determined to make a point. He was no stranger to stressful situations with questionable outcomes.

But nothing he’d ever walked into up to this point had made his throat go dry and his hands and feet tingle with a flood of adrenaline like preparing to face Carlos Garcia did.

Rigo poked his head around the edge of the door, feeling like an officer looking for a suspect. He saw his target right away, swinging at sodden drywall with a sledgehammer.

“Can I help you with that, sir?”

The heavy metal head of the sledgehammer dug into the wall and stuck as Carlos turned around.

Rigo felt like there was a similar lead mass in his throat as he waited for Gloria’s father to acknowledge him.

“You want to help me destroy my life’s work? That’s fitting, since you’ve already destroyed my daughter.” Carlos wiped sweat off his brow with a swipe of his forearm. “What are you doing here, Rodrigo? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know I’m not welcome, Carlos, but—”

The older man cut him off. “No, you’re not. But—”

This time, it was Rigo’s turn to jump in. They were both determined not to give much ground. “But what?”

“Gloria said you got arrested.” He unscrewed the lid off a bottle of water and took a drink. “So what are you doing here? Did you forget something? Like telling my daughter you’re drinking again?”

Rigo dropped the duffel bag on the ground. “I didn’t get arrested, sir. I got pulled over and tested, but there was no alcohol in my blood. I assure you, sir, I haven’t fallen off the wagon. I picked up my friend who needed help and I was taking him to Houston for treatment. I told Gloria I wasn’t the person I used to be, and I meant it.”

“That’s not what you said on the phone to her.”

“I got cut off. She didn’t get to hear the whole story. But I’m not here to make excuses.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Carlos snapped at Rigo as light pushed across the kitchen when the back door opened.

“Rigo.” Gloria’s voice hit him with the force of a slap. “What are you doing here?”

A couple of other voices chattered, then fell silent, and Rigo knew Gracie and her mother followed right behind Gloria.

He stood between two groups of angry Garcias—a completely different type of sandwich than the Huarache’s kitchen typically produced.

“Gloria.” His voice caught in his throat at the sight of her, the woman he’d loved his whole life. He wanted to close the space between them, take her hand and reassure her that everything would be okay.

But he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t cause her any more emotional turmoil.

“If you’re coming to tell me there’s been a misunderstanding, you’re right. It’s been mine. I shouldn’t have believed a word you said.” Her jaw quivered slightly as she stopped speaking. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“Gloria, I wasn’t drinking. Carpenter cut off the phone call. He had the opportunity to mess with me and he took it. If you want to see the test results, I will get them for you. I have not lied to you since the moment you called me at Tanna’s apartment.”

Her brown eyes darkened, then broke the line of sight between them. The golden sparkle had fluttered out of her irises like glitter dropping to the floor. Years ago, he’d left her to deal with all these same emotions while he rode waves into oblivion off the coast of Mexico.

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to explain, wasn’t going to drag this out.

But his heart wouldn’t let him do otherwise. He knew that somehow, somewhere, he could find the strength to walk away. But he couldn’t leave letting Gloria think he hadn’t meant every word he’d said to her since she called him before the landfall of Hope.

“Gloria, if I’d started back to drinking, I’d be at a bar again after all this mess. I wouldn’t be here in the Huarache’s kitchen.” Rigo gestured behind him. “If I was going to lie to you, I wouldn’t be within a mile of your father and a sledgehammer.”

The left corner of Gloria’s mouth twisted upward into the faintest beginning of a smile. She raised her head and looked at Rigo at an angle from beneath her lashes. He could see her hesitation as she struggled to trust him.

And then it hit him with the weight of that sledgehammer still wedged in the drywall.

Rigo had resolved to walk away so he couldn’t hurt her again. But that would make him a liar because those actions wouldn’t line up with his earlier promise that he’d never walk away again, no matter what.

Please, God, make me worthy of her. Make me a man who keeps his promises, a man she can trust. And open her eyes to see that.

With two steps, he covered the distance between them, hoping his touch could speak the truth more clearly than his words. He took her left hand in between both of his. He pressed the cool, slim fingers between his palms. He felt a faint pulse as he held on and wondered if it belonged to him or to her.

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done was come back. I’ve had to do it a few times. I came back after Mexico. I finally came back after rehab. And I’ve come back today, after you had every reason to believe the worst of me one more time. Every time I’ve come back, it’s been tougher than the time before. This is the toughest of them all. But I came back for you, Gloria. I got Milton to rehab. He has to learn how to rebuild his life. You know I’m rebuilding mine. But I can’t do that anymore without you.”

She laid her right hand gently atop his. “So why did you come here to the restaurant?”

“To apologize.” Rigo gave Gloria’s hand a gentle squeeze, then let go. “And to bring this.”

He turned to the duffel bag on the ground, knelt, then unzipped it. “I remember this from when we were kids, and I remember you’d said it meant a lot to your parents.”

He pulled out a small black frame, then handed it to Carlos.

“It’s the first dollar you ever made in America. I knew you kept it on the counter at the cash register. On my first patrol after the hurricane, I came in here to check the damage and I saw it. There was water inside the frame and the whole thing was soaked. The sister of a friend of mine owns a print shop up in Sugar Land. He took it to her and I picked it up after I got Milton settled. They were able to dry it out and fix it up and put it in an archival frame for you.”

Carlos stared at the small rectangular frame and turned it over in his hands, then back again.

“I noticed it was missing. But so much was ruined, I thought we’d never see it again.”

Rigo nodded. “I figured as much. I didn’t really have a chance to tell you when we met in the parking lot the other day.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.” Carlos’s expression softened as he looked at the restored and protected symbol of his fresh start in America so many years ago.

“I know that’s just a dollar bill, but I also know what it means to you. And I promise you, sir, that I know how much more your daughter means.”

Carlos swallowed and nodded but remained uncharacteristically silent.

“All I’m asking for is the chance to prove that to you and to Juanita. And Gracie.”

Rigo turned around and looked at the women in the doorway, then directly at Gloria. “And to you, too,
mí amor
.”

He hoped calling her “my love” hadn’t been too forward. Gloria opened her mouth to speak, but before she could collect her thoughts, Rigo decided he needed to finish what was on his heart, so he continued.

“You are, you know. You’re the love of my life. Past, present and future.” He bent back toward the duffel bag. “I have something for you, too.”

He pulled out a small rectangular book. The front cover was a shiny silver, decorated with an engraved pattern of baby blocks and a teddy bear. The spine and back were wrapped in black velvet.

Rigo reached out and placed the book in Gloria’s hands.

“Sophia couldn’t save them all, but she scanned them into her computer and used Photoshop to bring them back as much as she could.”

A tear rolled over the curve of Gloria’s cheek, then another and another, clearing a track through the small amount of makeup she was wearing. She turned the pages wordlessly, studying the images as though for the first time.

“My pictures of Mateo. I thought they were ruined.” Gloria’s soft whisper was barely audible in the silent room.

Rigo saw matching tear tracks running down the faces of the aunt and the grandmother who had never gotten to know Mateo, either.

“I had to try. I didn’t want the hurricane to take away everything you had left of your son.”

Gloria held out one arm. Rigo walked into her embrace, like a surfer sliding into shore. He felt the brush of velvet against his neck as Gloria wrapped her other arm around him, still holding the book of her memories.

“I love it.”

“I love you.” Nothing but total honesty would do at a moment like this.

She stretched up on her toes and met Rigo’s mouth with her own. He tried his best to focus on the kiss. He wanted to remember everything about this moment—the fresh relief of forgiveness, the sight of her, the taste of the salty tears still wet on her lips.

Rigo pulled back just enough to ask her the question he needed to know. “Tell me we can rebuild together. Forever, this time.”

He brushed a humidity-curled lock of caramel-colored hair from Gloria’s forehead and gently tucked it behind the curve of her ear as he waited for her reply.

Gloria looked at the little book, at her family and then at Rigo. Her eyes glowed and her smile was as fresh as it had been when they were eighteen and had the whole world at their feet.

“Yes. Together.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
AN AMISH HARVEST
by Patricia Davids.

Dear Reader,

Sometimes when you’re an author, art happens to imitate life. And such was the case when I started writing Rigo and Gloria’s story.

I happen to know more than a little something about hurricanes. In 2008, my house and small business were hit when Hurricane Ike rolled ashore in my hometown of Galveston, Texas, bringing Category 2 winds and a Category 4 storm surge. Although I rode out the storm in safety with my family on the other side of Houston, I have friends who remained on the island, and many of Rigo and Gloria’s experiences were taken directly from what happened that night in Galveston. And as for the cleanup and rebuilding afterward, I can definitely vouch for those, as Rigo and Gloria got to experience many of the same things I did, including the discovery of liquid fertilizer in the garage cabinet. I can thankfully say, though, I never did have to eat an MRE.

The one thing God showed me in my experiences with Ike is that not everyone gets to experience the wind and water of a hurricane, but everyone goes through storms in their lives and we all have to find a way to weather them and rebuild and move forward. The good news is that Jesus stills storms. You don’t have to go through them alone.

I hope you enjoyed Gloria and Rigo’s story—and thanks to all of you who contacted me after
Saving Gracie
, letting me know you wanted Gloria to meet her match and find her own happily-ever-after. I love hearing from readers and seeing your book reviews. You can find me online at
www.facebook.com/kristenethridgebooks
or at
www.kristenethridge.com
.

All the best,

Kristen Ethridge