Stiff, Spring sat up and stretched. Instantly, concern for her aunt balled tight in her stomach, making her feel nauseated. She hadn’t left the hospital all night. Aunt Geneva had slept fitfully, but had finally stabilized. Still in cardiac intensive care, she was far from well.
Slumped back in the corner of the armchair, Matilde looked up, groggy. “What’s happening?”
Spring glanced at her watch and stood up carefully, unsure of her legs after a night of on-and-off sleeping, sitting up and pacing. With both hands, she tried to brush the wrinkles from her skirt. “Marco and the heart specialist are to meet at seven this morning to make a decision about Aunty and heart surgery. It’s about that now.”
Matilde pushed herself up, stretching, too. “Oh, I need a cup of coffee—”
“Hola!” Anita bustled off the elevator toward them. “I’m so glad you called me, Matilde. As soon as I made breakfast for Santos and Paloma, I came right over. You should go home and get some rest.” Anita gathered Spring into her arms for an affectionate hug, much to Spring’s surprise.
Spring breathed in the mingled fragrances of Anita’s sweet perfume and fresh bacon—homey aromas, so welcome in this clinical setting. “I didn’t know Matilde had called you.”
“You were napping. I called about an hour ago. I know Santos always rises early.”
Spring didn’t know what to say. She’d never expected Marco’s mother to come.
“I know we’ve just met,” Anita said. “But I feel like I know you and your aunt from all Matilde has told us about you over the years.”
“It’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Señora Dorfman is a good woman, and you’re Paloma and Marco’s friend.” Anita smiled.
Spring’s mind a jumble of thoughts, she urged Anita to sit down beside her, then filled her in on her aunt’s night and what was going to be done for Aunty this morning.
Marco strode up the hall toward them.
Rising, Spring met him and held out her hands. She craved his reassuring touch.
He gripped them and pulled her a step closer. “I discussed your aunt with Dr. Carlson, the heart specialist on staff.”
Spring nodded, unable to think of anything to say. ECGs, ICUs, and IVs weren’t a part of her everyday life. His nearness bolstered her. She longed to tell him so, but couldn’t with his mother looking on.
Marco glanced past Spring. “Mother, you’re here.”
“Sí, Matilde called me. I thought Spring could use some more support.”
Anita looked as though she were challenging Marco in some way Spring couldn’t understand.
But Marco only nodded again, then turned back to Spring. “Dr. Carlson has ordered immediate surgery for your aunt. A double bypass.”
Spring’s knees weakened. She slipped back down to the sofa. “Then Aunty’s condition is as serious as I feared.”
Marco didn’t let go of her hands. He sat down beside her. “Carlson is the best. I’m going to scrub to assist him. The good news is that your aunt’s heart hasn’t had previous damage and the bypass will bring her back to health.”
“It’s all happening so suddenly….” Spring’s voice faltered.
Matilde began crying again.
“We’re very lucky. Dr. Carlson had planned to take off today so he has time to do her surgery.”
Spring pursed her lips. “I know you’ll do what’s best.”
Then he surprised her by kissing her forehead. What would his mother think?
He stood. “Matilde, would you please take Spring down to the cafeteria and make sure she eats a good breakfast?”
Spring turned pink at his proprietary tone. Did he hear how he sounded? “No, I couldn’t—”
Matilde cut in. “Claro que sí.” She took one of Spring’s hands. “Help me, Anita. This girl eats like a bird.”
Marco let Spring’s other hand drop, then leaned forward to kiss her. This time lightly on her lips. “Go. You need to eat.”
His kiss ran through her like warm maple syrup, sweet and delicious, in spite of his mother’s presence. Spring gazed into his eyes, reading his concern there. She nodded.
“Take your time eating breakfast. The surgery will take hours.”
She watched him march away, longing to urge him to stay.
Anita excused herself to run a quick errand for Paloma, but promised to meet them in the surgical waiting area.
Downstairs, wandering down the cafeteria line, Spring selected tea and dry toast. Following behind, Matilde added fresh fruit and a bowl of oatmeal to Spring’s tray.
A little queasy from lack of sleep, Spring frowned and tried to put both bowls back.
“No! You must eat to keep up your strength!” Matilde objected.
“I won’t be able to eat—”
“You will.” Matilde’s chin rose stubbornly.
“But—”
The housekeeper sighed. “Eat what you can, hija mia. You don’t need to eat all of everything, just a bit of each. Toast and tea will not give you the strength you need now.”
Spring nodded but felt too nervous to eat. The appetite she’d acquired on the cruise had vanished, leaving her hollow.
She paid for her breakfast, and Matilde followed her to a table near the wall of windows overlooking the hospital garden. Pink azaleas festooned borders of white petunias in the bright sunshine. She bowed her head to give thanks. When she looked up, she still had no appetite.
The words she’d been holding in all night came rushing out. “I feel so guilty.”
“Why?”
“I should have noticed Aunty wasn’t feeling well.” Spring felt her throat thicken with emotion. “I shouldn’t have gone away—”
“No!” Matilde shook her head vigorously. “She was thrilled for you. Marco and you going on that cruise made her so happy.”
Unable to speak, Spring forked a chunk of cantaloupe into her mouth. The fresh, cool fruit woke her taste buds and made her stomach clamor for more.
“Marco kissed you last night and this morning,” Matilde murmured with a knowing smile. “What happened on the cruise?”
Spring paused with her fork poised over the fruit. What a question. How could she put all that had occurred into words to be said over breakfast. “Marco was able to get donors for his free clinic.”
“Wonderful, but what happened between you two?”
Spring speared a fresh, ripe strawberry. “I don’t know. We’re closer but we haven’t talked.”
“Ay!” Matilde struck her forehead. “You will give me a heart attack, too. You two need someone to teach you how to fall in love!”
On her way into surgery, Aunt Geneva clutched Spring’s hands in hers, communicating her anxiety.
“You’ll be all right, Aunty,” Spring murmured. “Dr. Carlson is the best in Florida and Marco will be with him. You won’t be in surgery so very long.”
“Spring, I’ve been thinking.” Aunty’s eyes looked frightened and distracted. “I should have told you about your mother’s natural parents. If I should die today…no one else knows the truth!”
“You can tell me after you’re out of surgery.” Spring said it with a hopeful smile, though she felt the drag of worry around her heart. Oh, Lord, please protect my dear aunt.
Aunty had been given something to relax her, but obviously it hadn’t lessened her anxiety. Her eyes filled with tears. “But, Spring, I—”
The orderly apologized, but pushed the gurney the last few feet to the pre-operating room door.
Spring waved to her aunt and blew a kiss. She watched until her aunt was out of sight, then her tears let down like a sudden storm. Feeling unreasonably guilty for ever asking about her mother’s adoption, she turned and made her way to the surgical waiting room.
“Spring!” Anita welcomed her with open arms. “Pobrecita, you poor child.”
“I love her so much,” Spring said, her words mangled by a sudden rush of weeping.
“She will be fine,” Anita comforted her. “Matilde and I will stay with you until she is out of surgery and we know she is safe.”
“We’re here, too, Spring.” Verna Rae came in with Eleanor at her side, just behind Anita.
Verna Rae continued. “Hon, our churches are all prayin’ for your aunt.”
“She’s a strong one, that Geneva,” Eleanor added. “Don’t count her out, dahling. She’s got a lot of years left in her!”
Fresh tears spilled from Spring’s eyes, but gratitude curved her face into a reluctant smile. “I’m so glad Aunty has such good friends.”
“And such a good doctor!” Eleanor finished for her. “Matilde introduced us to Dr. Da Palma’s mother here. She’s a sweetheart, too—”
“So you have nothing to worry about, honey.” Verna Rae patted Spring’s arm.
Spring nodded. “Thank you. I’m better now.” She sat down, and each lady found a comfortable spot near her in the corner of the surgical waiting area. Her spirits had risen.
God, be there and watch over Aunt Geneva. I love her so. And bless the doctors who are operating. Be with Marco as he assists. I love him, Lord—even if I can’t bring myself to say the words to him.
“Spring.” A soft, deep voice murmured her name. “Spring.”
Chills up her spine woke her completely. She looked up into Marco’s dark eyes. “Marco.” Warmth swirled through her. She stretched in the chair beside her aunt’s bed in the cardiac wing.
He whispered, “You should go home and get some sleep in your own bed. You’ve been here most of the past two days. Dr. Carlson is not concerned about your aunt’s recovery at all. You can’t do anything for her, can you.”
“I wish I could do something. I’d feel better, then.” Marco’s low voice awoke her mind, body and heart—his tender concern for her, a priceless gift in a frantic time. Disheveled, she felt disoriented, as though she’d been tossed in a blanket several times, then dropped on her head. She glanced to her aunt, who lay sound asleep in her bed nearby.
“I was here when she told you to go home and rest,” Marco coaxed, leaning close.
Spring laid her hand against his stubbled cheek. The contact sent a charge up her numb arm. “It’s late. Why are you still here?”
He exhaled deeply. “I had a few emergencies at the office, then I was called back here for some more. Now I’m going to head home for a shower and some real sleep.”
“Sounds good.”
“Up.” He tugged her hands, pulling her onto her feet. “Your aunt told you to go home. I’m going to take you there.”
His strength beckoned her. Her mood lightened. “I love it when you bully me.” Her emotions bubbled up. She felt giddy—from fatigue, from relief over the successful surgery?
“You are overtired. Now come.” He led her from her aunt’s room.
Feeling light as fresh soap bubbles, Spring let him lead her. “You’ll have to call me a cab—”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“My aunt’s house is out of your way.”
“No one but me will be driving you home,” he informed her in a fierce voice.
His tone set off a ringing of joy inside her. She giggled. “You’re so masterful, Marco.”
He gave her a disgruntled look, but towed her closer to him.
She reveled in his nearness, his tender care. Soon fresh Gulf air flowed over Spring’s face. The night was still new and she could hear the sounds of traffic on the nearby highway. She let Marco lead her to his car, tuck her inside and drive her away.
All that had happened over the past week had pulled her away from everyday life. Her restless emotions lay just beneath the surface, ready to leap up at any cause. She laid her head back against the seat. “You have a wonderful family. Anita and Santos have been so kind.”
“Gracias. My mother felt you needed someone, some family with you.”
His words comforted her. “That’s just what it felt like. I can see now why you are such a good man.”
“I’m just a man—”
“Your mother said you were already fourteen when she married Santos, so the credit must go to your father. He must have made a lasting impression on you,” Spring probed gently. Would Marco open up and tell her more about his personal life?
Marco’s throat tightened. “My father was the best.”
She stroked his arm, wanting, needing to make contact with him. “I’m so sorry you lost him. He would be very proud of you. How did you lose him? Was it an illness?”
“No.” His voice sounded, felt hoarse. “He was killed in a car accident on Highway 19.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Marco couldn’t stop himself. Words he’d never said to anyone else slipped through his lips. “I was with him in the car. A drunk driver hit us head-on. I was safely in the back seat. My father died before the ambulance came. I felt so helpless…. That’s when I decided to be a doctor. I never wanted to be helpless again—when someone I loved needed me.”
She slid closer to him, wrapped her arms around his right arm and nestled her face into his starched cotton shirt. “How awful for you. I know how that feels.”
“You do?”
She rubbed her face against his shirt as she nodded. “My mother was diagnosed with leukemia three years ago.”
“I didn’t know!” He kissed her hair. “How is she? What are they doing for her?”
She pressed herself closer to him. “She’s in remission now, has been for over eighteen months, but it was so scary. We were so afraid that we might lose her.”
He covered her hand with his. “I’m so glad to hear that she is doing well.”
She touched her cheek to his hand. “We, my sisters and father and I, still worry. What if the leukemia comes back?”
He spoke with urgency. “There are many treatments. We have so many new ways to treat leukemia—bone marrow transplants—”
“My sisters and I weren’t matches.”
“How about other family members?” Concern resonated in his voice.
She shook her head. “Mother was adopted, and we don’t know anything about her birth family connections.”
“That’s tough.” Marco thought about his only having his mother here in Florida. The rest of his relatives had stayed in Santo Domingo. He’d thought he had so little in common with Spring, but perhaps he’d been wrong.
So conscious of the lovely woman pressed close to him, Marco stopped in front of her aunt’s home. He turned to Spring. She came into his arms so naturally that it took his breath away.
He forced back all the negative cautions that percolated up from his mind. I want to kiss her. She wants my kiss. We’re not so different!
She lifted her face to him.
He kissed her, then stroked the golden strands of hair away from her pale, lucent face. I love you, Spring. Te amo. Where will my feelings take us? Could you love me, too?
Three days later, Spring sat beside her aunt’s hospital bed and smiled. “You look stronger today.”
“I feel like a crushed lettuce leaf.”
Spring chuckled and enjoyed the light feeling it gave her. The past five days had been overloaded with worry, heart-wringing prayer and lack of sleep. But, at last, she felt hopeful.
Aunt Geneva stared into Spring’s eyes as though she had something important on her mind.
Spring didn’t look away. She thought she knew what her aunt wanted to discuss. “Are you going to tell me about mother now?”
Aunty nodded.
Though excited to be this close to the truth, Spring hesitated. “Are you certain you’re up to this? I don’t want you to overdo.”
“I’m strong enough to talk. I’ve prayed about this every waking hour since I knew I was to go into surgery. You shocked me so when you asked me—out of the blue—about Ethel’s parents. I’ve suppressed what I knew for so many years. I’ve thought more than once in the past ten years that maybe Ethel should be told.”
Aunty paused to sigh. “Times have changed. Adoption used to be so hush-hush. Children were never even told they’d been adopted! Fortunately, your grandmother didn’t do that! When Ethel was twelve, Gloria told her that she’d been adopted, but that Gloria and Tom couldn’t love her any more than her natural mother did. Which was the truth. Gloria and I and both our husbands adored Ethel from the very first time we saw her.”
“When was that?” Spring asked softly. How had her mother felt when she’d learned about her adoption?
“It’s a sad story. Ethel’s mother was Connie Wilson, a dear girl who grew up just across the street from your grandmother and me. She was a bit younger than me and a bit older than Gloria.” Aunty’s face took on a faraway expression. “So many years ago. So sad that Connie…left us so soon.”
This thought had already occurred to Spring. “Connie died young?”
Aunty nodded. “It was wartime, you know, World War II. Connie went to work in a munitions factory in Milwaukee. She met a sailor from Great Lakes Naval Base near Waukegan, Illinois. He’d taken the North Shore train to Milwaukee. They fell in love at first sight.” A tear trickled down her aunt’s soft, wrinkled cheek.
Sorry to have brought pain to Aunt Geneva, Spring handed her a soft tissue from a box on her bedside tray. “They never married?”
Aunty dabbed her eyes. “Connie had an engagement ring and she was so happy. But it was 1945, no time to be in love. He shipped out and was killed in action.”
The long-ago story still had the power to stir Spring to pity. Poor Connie.
“But my mother was born.”
“Yes, I believe that he intended to marry Connie. In fact, he wanted to marry Connie before he left, but her parents persuaded her not to marry until he came home. He wasn’t good enough for them!” Aunty’s voice became fierce. “They shouldn’t have meddled. They let Bill go off to war. Then Connie came up pregnant, and they didn’t want anyone to know. But Connie told me and Gloria.”
Aunty’s face started to pick up color again as her agitation mounted. “Her parents should have kept her home with them! People in town knew what kind of girl Connie was! Everyone knew she and Bill were engaged, and in wartime these things happen. But they hushed everything up and sent their only daughter away to an aunt’s to have the baby.”
“I’m sure they did what they thought was best.” But I could never do that!
Aunty pursed her lips. “I’ve always believed that Connie wouldn’t have died if she’d been at home when she had her baby. Who knew what kind of doctor she had, what kind of care!”
Spring couldn’t think of any reply to this, so she returned to the reason she’d disturbed the past. “Did Connie have any brothers and sisters?”
“Only one brother. He died in the Battle of the Bulge.” Aunty drew a long breath. “Such sad times to remember.” She wiped away new tears.
Spring touched her aunt’s arm. “What was Mother’s father’s name?”
“Bill Smith. But it’s a dead end, Spring. He died when his ship was attacked in the Pacific. So you see, there isn’t anyone—”
“Maybe he had brothers or sisters,” Spring offered.
“He might have. It was so long ago, I’ve forgotten…if I ever knew that to start with. I can’t give you much to work with to find out if he had any other family.”
Aunty reached for Spring’s hand. “But I wanted you to know. Your mother may want to know someday, and I might not be here to tell her the story.” Aunty tried to smile. “Connie had a first cousin in Oconomowoc, too, but she may be dead or long gone by now. I only remember her first name, Mary Beth.”
The sad story tugged at her heart, and Spring rose and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thank you for telling me. We might never find any blood relatives and we might never need them. Mother’s leukemia may never come back.”
Aunty fussed with her blanket. “I just hope I’ve done right to tell you.”
“Aunt Geneva, as you’ve said, times have changed. This should have been revealed years ago.”
“You’re probably right, dear. Connie wanted Gloria to take her baby. She knew Gloria had just married Tom and that they’d take good care of her.”
“Connie’s parents didn’t want their only grandchild?”
Aunty pursed her lips. “Our mother always said they were too concerned about what people would say. Their loss. Ethel was welcomed into our family with open arms.”
“Did Grandmother choose the name Ethel?”
“No, Connie named her.”
“I wonder why she chose that name.”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, dear, but I’m tired now.”
“I’m sure you are. Close your eyes. I’m going down to the cafeteria and get something to eat.”
“You do that, dear. I’m afraid you’ve lost weight again.”
Spring grinned. “Not a bit. I gained weight on the cruise, and Matilde has had me under surveillance. I have not gone hungry!”
“Soon I want to hear all about the cruise!”
“Soon,” Spring promised. She walked out into the hallway.
What would her sisters, Hannah and Doree, have to say about this? Was there any chance of finding blood relatives? The story didn’t seem to give them much in the way of leads.
Is that Your answer, Lord? Are we to leave this all in Your hands and quit meddling, too?
“All right. Are we all on the line?” Spring asked over the phone, sitting on her bed at Aunt Geneva’s house later that evening.
“I’m here,” Hannah replied.
“Me, too!” Doree exclaimed. “So what’s the deal? Did Aunt Geneva give you the scoop?”
Spring sighed. “Aunty is much better this evening. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course she is!” Doree declared. “Mom called me last night and told me that—”
Hannah interrupted, “I think Spring is trying to teach you how to begin a phone conversation. Certainly someone needs to do that. Aunty just had serious surgery after having had a heart attack—you should ask about her health first, not just start gabbing.”
Doree huffed into the phone, but said nothing.
Spring cleared her throat. “Aunt Geneva has told me the full story of our mother’s natural parents.”
“Wow!” Doree exclaimed. “I can’t believe you finally got her to tell.”
Spring talked over Doree’s voice. Tonight, Doree’s flippant attitude irritated Spring like a fingernail scraping against a chalkboard. “Aunt Geneva decided we should know, in case mother ever needed or wanted to know. Aunt Geneva says she is the only living person who knows what happened.”
“Does that mean that mother’s natural father is deceased, too?” Hannah asked.
“I’m afraid so.” Spring sighed again.
“When did he die?” Doree continued her interrogation. “Did he marry and have other children?”
Spring drew on her waning emotional reserves. What are you getting at, Doree? “He died when his ship was attacked in the Pacific in World War II.”
Doree enquired, “Did anyone attend his funeral?”
Spring frowned. “I doubt anyone from Mother’s hometown. He and our grandmother’s friend, Connie Wilson, were engaged but not married. I think he might have gone down with his ship. Would they even have held a funeral service?”
“What was his name?” Doree pressed.
“Bill Smith.” Spring couldn’t keep the exhaustion out of her voice. Stop it, Doree.
“Bill Smith? That’s an awfully common name,” Doree commented.
“What of it?” Hannah countered.
“Well,” Doree demanded, “so many Bill Smiths died in World War II, but maybe not our Bill Smith.”