Second Chance Cafe (11 page)

“I know. We both have busy schedules, but it’s different for you. Your life is full of family and people who love you. Mine is filled with my work. You have no idea what I’m going through. Maybe neither of us is ready for this kind of relationship.”

Isa hadn’t braced for that. She took the words like a punch to the stomach, full force.

I knew it. I knew it was too much to hope for. I knew I was in over my head. I knew it would never work out.

She took an unsteady breath. “Maybe you’re right. I told you when we first met that you should concentrate on healing.”

He looked up at her, his eyes red and rimmed with moisture. “Yes, you did. I haven’t done a very good job of that, I know. But you don’t know what it’s like to be alone, Isa. To not have a family that cares for you.”

Her mouth was dry and her heart hurt. “You have the guys, Ethan. Company 51 loves you.”

“It’s not the same,” he said.

I love you.

The words stayed just below the surface.

God loves you.
She could hardly remind him of that when half the time she doubted it herself.

God, where are you?
The prayer came from her without warning.
God, I’m struggling here. This whole thing is falling apart just like I knew it would.

Ethan leaned back on the sofa.

“Isa, I’m tired. I’m in pain. I can’t do this right now.”

Isa stepped back toward the door. “Me either. So let’s not.”

Ethan stared at her. “What are you saying? Let’s not fight? Or…do you not want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Is that what this is?” Isa countered.

“I thought so,” Ethan answered. He closed his eyes. “I’m too tired to fight with you, Isa.”

“You don’t have to,” she said as she walked to the door and left.

Chapter 13

M
ore than a week later, Isa followed Leo and Mandy into her parents’ home. Her father had spent another night in the hospital after having had his second surgery for deep brain stimulation. The surgery had gone well and the family felt hopeful. Isa carried an overnight bag with her. Her mother had asked her to stay over a night or two just to make sure her father was all right. Desperately needing some rest, she’d taken two nights off to stay at her parents’ home. She only hoped she’d get some sleep.

Once her father was resting comfortably, Isa sat silently on the swing outside while Leo prepared a quick lunch. She rocked back and forth out on the deck, taking in the far view of the mountains from where she sat.

“How long has it been?”

Isa looked up to see Mandy there, Tony drifting to sleep on her shoulder. She patted the seat next to her.

“Well?” Mandy pressed. Isa rocked next to her sister-in-law.

“Nine days.”

“Ah,” Mandy said.

Nine days since she’d walked out of Ethan’s apartment. Nine days since she’d heard his voice, since she’d argued with him, since she’d seen him alone and in pain.

“Do you know yet?” Mandy asked. A cool breeze raced past them and danced across Isa’s face. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sun.

“Do I know what?”

“If you’re in love with him.”

Isa opened her eyes and looked at Mandy. “I don’t know how I feel. Frustrated, I guess. I’m disappointed that we haven’t talked.”

“I would be, too.”

“He’s texted me, just asking about Dad and stuff like that. He’s said we should talk soon, but he’s not insisting.”

“He’s letting you cool off.”

“I don’t need nine days for that. I think it’s more likely he’s just really busy with the café. And he did say maybe neither of us is ready for this kind of relationship.”

“What kind is that?” Mandy asked. Isa didn’t respond but she knew the answer.

The kind that leads to more. The kind that leads to marriage and commitment and family.
The kind that she was pretty sure they both wanted.

“So call him.”

“No way,” Isa stated, and Mandy barely smiled.

“Okay.”

“You better be on my side about this,” Isa warned.

Mandy nodded. “There’s nowhere else for a Romano to be. I’m on your side. But I hate to see you lose something that might be incredible. You and Ethan—I watched you guys the day Maggie went into labor. It’s like he’s your match.”

Isa shook her hair back and pressed her temples. A headache had crept up on her.

“I never wanted to date a guy who owned a restaurant.”

Mandy laughed, then covered her mouth, trying to hold it in so she wouldn’t wake Tony.

“What’s so funny?”

Mandy smiled. “I was just thinking about the fact that I used to dream of dating a guy who owned a restaurant.”

Isa grinned back at her. “Well, you got your chef in shining armor.”

“I did,” Mandy agreed. “Does Ethan want to give up being a firefighter? Does he want to run his restaurant full-time?”

“I don’t think so. He loves being a firefighter. I think he’s afraid he’ll never be one again. But if he’d just stop and let his body heal, he could do it again. He’s so stubborn.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that’s like,” Mandy said playfully.

Isa gave her a Look. “Let’s move away from the ‘stubborn’ topic. Don’t you have any advice for me?” Isa asked.

“Sure. Pray.”

Isa rolled her eyes. “I could be waiting a really long time for an answer.”

Mandy didn’t scoff. “Then how about I pray for you? The truth is I’m already praying, Isa. And Leo. And your mom and dad.”

Isa bit her lip. She thought of her father saying he was hoping for good things for her.

“Are you living an abundant life, Mandy? Were you before you met Leo?”

Mandy rubbed Tony’s back. “Yes. And maybe. I had a good life before I met Leo, Isa. But God knows what we need. And I needed Leo. My life was full before—but now it’s so much better. There are ups and downs, but I wake up thanking God and I go to bed thanking God. I have hope and peace. Sometimes I feel guilty for feeling so happy. But I believe all good things come from the Father. So I just thank Him for the blessings in my life. And I remember the times God’s been there for me. Those memories carry me through the not-so-easy days.”

Isa was quiet.

“Think of a time when you knew without a doubt that God was there for you, Isa.”

Isa bit her lip. “I can’t think of one.”

Mandy stood up. “Try. I’m going to lay Tony down in the guest room. Come in to eat soon, sis.” She walked back to the house with Tony.

“Mandy,” Isa said before she went inside. Mandy stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“What if he doesn’t call? It
has
been nine days. What if he doesn’t?”

“Then you have some decisions to make, Isa.”

With Mandy gone, Isa tucked her legs under her on the swing. She watched the leaves rustle as wind blew through them and she let her mind wander, trying to think of a time when God had shown up for her in an unmistakable way. Before long her mother called out to her that lunch was ready and she went inside. But her mind kept wandering, and her soul stayed restless.

* * *

Ethan minced an onion and added it to the pot of beef stew that sat simmering on the stove. The café had been slow through breakfast, and he was already prepping for lunch. The scent of stew stirred a host of memories. It was one of the only recipes he had of his mother’s. While she hadn’t cooked all that much during his childhood, Ethan remembered her making beef stew every winter. It had been a favorite dish of his father’s and she’d made it just the way he’d liked it. Ethan thought of her every time he made it, and even though he tried not to, he felt the loss of both her and his dad.

He added in garlic and a blend of spices and then raised the stove’s heat just a tad.

The kitchen felt warm, filled with smells of different foods and the feeling of people coming in and out as waitresses flew in to grab plates. Ethan could hear the sound of Mark humming near him. But Ethan felt lonely.

I will never leave you.

Ethan stopped what he was doing.

Father, I miss Isabella.
It was an honest admission. Ethan wasn’t sure it qualified as a prayer. But it was true regardless. He missed her.

She’d stood in his apartment and yelled at him. He thought of her hands on her hips, the heightened tone of her voice, the fire in her eyes—in the moment, he hadn’t realized what they’d signified. But alone, after she’d left, when his pulse had slowed and he’d thought over every word that had been slung between them, it had hit him.

She cared. She cared enough to fight with him.

He couldn’t even remember the last time that he’d had someone in his life who cared that much—besides Company 51.

And she was right. He’d taken on too much. He couldn’t heal if he couldn’t rest.

The problem was…neither could she.

Ethan stepped outside through the back door for a quick breath of fresh air. He leaned against the building and talked to the only family member he had who cared about every detail of his life.

Father, I’m in pain. What do I do now? I’ve put off the MRI because every day I’m busy here at the café. But I can’t keep doing that. I need help. It’s just so important to me that this café is a success. I’m responsible for it. There’s no one else. I’ve poured almost everything I have into it.

And what do I do about Isabella? I can see how she’d think that her opinion doesn’t really matter to me based on my decisions, but that’s not true. I want to know her opinion on everything. And it does matter to me.

Maybe it’s just bad timing for the two of us. Maybe when things slow down…

“Hey, Chef. Orders are picking up,” Mark said, sticking his head out the door.

“I’ll be right in,” Ethan told him.

Lunch picked up and the café had a steady flow of customers, but still Ethan was worried. Once the doors were closed and he had time alone in his office to go over the books, the numbers worried him. Mick had told him that some months would be better than others. He’d invested so much, he couldn’t stop the anxiety that hung over him like a cloud. What if the café didn’t make enough money? What if he couldn’t go back to Company 51? What then?

There was a knock at the door and Jenny poked her head in.

“The dining room is clean, Ethan. I’m leaving.” She walked in and set a bowl on his desk. “You never stopped to eat. I set aside some stew for you before the kitchen was cleaned.”

“Thanks, Jenny!” Ethan took the bowl in his hands.

“No problem,” she said before ducking out. Ethan sat back, wishing he could somehow eradicate the pain in his back, and breathed in the scent of the stew before taking a generous bite. He savored the taste, thinking of his mother. Along with the physical pain he felt, a sense of sorrow at the thought of his mother came over him.

I will never leave you.

The words from Scripture entered his mind again. A comforting and unwavering promise.

Chapter 14

T
hursday afternoon Isabella waited impatiently for the elevator doors to open. Once they finally did, she rushed through and turned the corner, heading for the NICU. Pushing through the double doors, she jogged up the corridor to where she saw Maggie standing with the doctor. Maggie’s face filled with relief at the sight of her.

“Hey,” Isabella said as she came to a stop. “What’s going on?”

“Bianca’s running a fever. We were slated to be released today, but if her fever doesn’t break, we probably won’t be taking her home.”

Isa nodded. “It’s more important that she’s healthy and ready, Mags. She’ll be home before you know it.”

Maggie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them. “You’re right, Isa. Of course. I just wish—”

Isa touched her friend’s arm, her heart full of understanding for the mixed feelings she was probably experiencing. The doctor spoke to the two of them for a few more minutes and then left them alone with Bianca.

“Is José working?” Isa asked. Maggie nodded.

“He’s working all the time. The medical bills, the regular bills—it’s a lot, Isa. I keep thinking maybe I should go back to work to help out once my maternity leave is up. But then I see Bianca and I feel so strongly that my place is by her right now….”

“Mags,” Isa said firmly. “Bianca’s your daughter.
Of course
you feel like your place is by her. It’s going to be okay. God will provide.”

Isa bit her lip, praying for the faith to believe her own words.
You will, won’t You, Father? You won’t forsake them, right? You know their every need. I know You do. Please help them.

Whether she wanted it to or not, her every thought seemed to turn into a prayer these days. By midnight that night Isa was rolling her shoulders and taking an aspirin for her stiff neck. The E.R. had been moderately busy, enough to keep her from feeling the exhaustion, but she couldn’t quite shake the achiness coming over her. She leaned against the counter as she filled out paperwork. She sniffed, annoyed that her nose seemed to be running.

I’m just tired of being on my feet. A hot shower and a few hours of sleep and I’ll feel better.

As Isa walked to her car after her shift, she made the immediate decision to head home instead of over to her parents’ house. The ache had spread to her shoulders and she felt sure she needed sleep. Eight hours later she woke up, sat up in bed, then fell back onto her pillow.

“Tell me I’m not sick,” she complained out loud.

What is this? Who gets a late-summer cold? The weather hasn’t even started to turn chilly! I have way too much going on in my life to catch a cold in August!

Isa took her temperature. A hundred and one. Achiness touched every part of her body and her head was pounding. Her nose ran like a waterspout. She wrapped her robe around her and checked the clock. It was a little after four o’clock.

Thank goodness it’s Friday and I’m not on the rotation at work tonight. There’s no way I could go in feeling like this.

She took some over-the-counter medicine she had in her cabinet and then climbed back into bed, pulling her comforter up to her nose as she shivered with chills. She called her mother just to be able to tell someone she felt sick, to hear her mother fuss over her and offer sympathy.

Then she fell back asleep and woke up around six, her throat now sore and her energy level lower than ever.

I miss Ethan.

Isa wanted to call him. She wanted him to come over with something delicious that he’d made, ready to take care of her. She tried to steer clear of the depressing notion that if she had a husband, she’d have a constant companion, someone to be with her through sickness and health. Someone to care for her. Again Isa thought about how different she’d expected her life to be by this point. She hated being alone.

Why hasn’t he called? What’s he waiting for?
Isa couldn’t understand it. She’d thought for sure Ethan would have called by now. He’d pursued her so intently—now one argument and he disappeared on her for two weeks? It was disappointing. She needed someone who could fight with her if necessary and who would always fight for her.

And she’d thought Ethan was that man.

A knock at the door caused her to jump. Isa carried a box of tissues with her to the front door.

“Mom!” she said with a surprised sniffle. Her mother walked in and set a paper bag on the counter.

“Isabella,” she said, pulling Isa into a warm hug before holding her at arm’s length to inspect her. “Have you taken medicine?”

“Yes, Mom,” Isa answered. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here.”

Her mother immediately moved to begin washing the few dirty dishes in Isa’s kitchen sink. “I wanted to. You need to eat. Look in the sack. I brought vegetable soup,” she said over her shoulder. “There’s a loaf of Italian bread to go with it.”

Isa set out a plastic container of soup and the loaf of bread. Then she reached down and pulled out a leather-bound journal.

“Mom, what’s this?” she asked.

“Oh, I was cleaning out the closet in the guest room, your old room, and I found that. It belongs to you.”

“My journal from high school!” Isa said, clutching it. Her mom looked back at her and grinned.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t read it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Isa said before setting it aside and taking a bowl from the cupboard for her soup. Her mother turned around, dried her hands on a dish towel and motioned for Isa to sit down. Too tired to protest, Isa did as her mother instructed. She sat on the sofa while her mother prepared a tray for her.

“Have you heard from Ethan?” her mother asked cautiously as she set the tray on the coffee table. Isa shook her head, reaching for the bowl and swallowing a spoonful of vegetable soup.

“This is delicious, Mom. Thank you.”

“Are you going to call him?” her mother asked, folding her arms.

Isa nibbled on the chunk of bread from the tray and shrugged.

“Maybe. I mean, it’s
possible
I might one day.”

Her mother smiled, satisfied with the answer. “I wish I could stay longer, but your father needs me at home.”

“How’s Dad today?” Isa asked with interest. “Tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t stop by.”

“Isabella! You don’t have to apologize. We know you have a life outside of us. We want you to. You don’t have to come over so often.”

“I don’t mind. I want to,” Isa insisted. “You’re my family. If I’m not there for you, what good is family? Look at me. I’m sick and here you are, Mom. Helping me. That’s how you raised me to be.”

Her mother’s face softened and she stepped closer, kissing the top of Isa’s head. “Thank you for saying that. Well, your father is doing better.”

“He really is, isn’t he?” Isa echoed. Her mom perched on the arm of the easy chair.

“The surgery was successful. He’s still showing a few of the symptoms, but still, the progress from how he was is remarkable. The best part has been how encouraged he seems. I’ve been afraid—afraid that maybe this is just a dream and any minute he’ll be worse again.” Her mother’s voice was fraught with emotion.

“Mom,” Isa said softly. “It’s normal to feel that way. But he’s doing better. We can all see it. He’s talking easier, he’s moving around easier, he’s not shaking as badly.”

“Yes, I’m grateful,” her mother said even as her eyes were glossy with tears.

“I’m grateful, too,” Isa said with a tug at her heart.

Later, after her mother had left and Isa had finished her soup, she made her way back to bed. Not quite drowsy enough for sleep but without much energy to do more than lie down, she took her old journal to bed with her and started to read. Most entries were typical high school drama—crushes, hurt feelings from girlfriends, annoyance with teachers and her parents, frustration with her appearance. But every now and then she’d find an entry that held more depth, that revealed more of Isa’s teenage heart. About halfway through the journal, Isa heard a ping-pong noise come from her laptop on the nightstand, telling her she’d received a message.

She grabbed the laptop and settled back into her pillows. She opened the message through her social-networking page.

Hey. Do you miss me yet?

The smile on her face was instant. Ethan Carter.

Who are you again?
she replied.

Firefighter/cook. Stubborn guy who buys restaurants on a whim when he’s been badly injured.

Isa laughed out loud.

It’s coming back to me now. How are you?

I’m okay. I keep thinking about this girl I know.

Isa sighed. A strong sense of relief coursed through her, along with the emotional flutters that Ethan always seemed to stir in her.

I was too hard on you. I’m sorry.

The apology came easy for her and Isa realized how badly she’d missed Ethan.

No, you were right. How are you?

Sick.

Sick over our fight?

She giggled as she typed.

You wish. I caught a silly summer cold. I’m home in bed with a fever and a box of tissues.

Can I come over?

She bit her lip.

Reread my line above. I AM SICK.

I’ll risk it. I promise to bring chocolate.

No. I don’t want you to get sick. So…why has it taken so long for you to call me?

She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

Will you be mad if I say it’s because I’ve been working too much?

Yes.

Well, I ran into some issues at the restaurant.

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that one…

Okay, okay. One of my waitresses got a better job offer and she subsequently quit. So we’ve been shorthanded and I’ve been scrambling to find a replacement. But I hired someone yesterday.

Isa didn’t respond for a moment.

Isa? I also thought we needed some space.

Her heart hurt at that comment. Was he right? Had they needed space?

She didn’t want space. Space made her nervous. In the past, “space” had always meant “time to reevaluate whether we’re a good match” or “time to look for someone else.”

Isa? You’re making me nervous. Say something.

She took a deep breath. Maybe it was the cold medicine or just the fact that she felt crummy and weak. But she suddenly didn’t feel able to keep being witty. To keep playing along. She needed something real. She started typing before she could talk herself out of it.

I was worried. I missed you, Ethan.

Isa counted the seconds while she waited for Ethan to respond.

I missed you first.