Syndi Powell - Healing Hearts

“I teach all skill levels. And if you’re a beginner, all the better. You won’t come into my class with awful habits. I can mold you.” Nonna brought out a calendar. “And your names?”

“April Sprader and Page Kosinski.”

Zach looked at her. She looked like an April. A woman with a spring attitude. Shaking off the dull grays of winter and embracing a rebirth. He gave himself a mental slap in the head. Where was he coming up with this stuff? “April.” She faced him, and he realized he’d said her name out loud. “First dancing, now cooking. What are you trying to do? Mark off items on your bucket list?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am.” She got out her wallet and handed Nonna a few twenties. “I look forward to our first class.” She ignored him as she passed by him.

Nonna slid the money in an envelope and wrote the names on the front of it before securing it in one of the desk drawers. “You sure you don’t want to come to one of my classes?”

“I don’t have time to cook, Nonna.”

“I figured you might want to join so it would give you an excuse to be around that woman.”

He pointed in the direction April had left. “Dr. Sprader? I don’t think so.”

Nonna eyed him, but he didn’t fidget or look away. “Something wrong with her?”

“Where do you want me to start?” He chuckled. “First off, she doesn’t like me. Not that I’m all that fond of her.”

“She seemed perfectly sweet to me.”

He gave a shrug and clutched the book firmly. “Maybe, but I’ve got more important things to pursue. Thanks again for your contacts, Nonna.”

“Class is Tuesday night at eight in case you change your mind.”

But he wouldn’t. He had a wedding to plan, a mother to care for, and clients who depended on him for their careers. The last thing he needed was a distraction of the female variety.

CHAPTER THREE

ZACH STARED OUT the window of his office, not paying attention to his cell phone. It buzzed with multiple text messages. He’d spent most of his weekend nailing down details for the Ramos wedding. He’d already downloaded the application for a marriage license and found a priest who would perform the ceremony at the banquet hall where Nonna knew the chef and had given him a discount since the happy couple would be married on a Sunday night. There were other details to take care of, but he’d made a sizable dent.

He pushed his wandering thoughts aside and picked up the phone. The first message was from Johnson, asking if he had heard anything yet about the offer from the Lions. Ramos wanted to know if they could fly out his parents from Puerto Rico in time for the wedding. And Coach Petrullo needed an update on Johnson’s health. He answered them all. He’d make it work. Because that’s what he did: took on the impossible and it happened.

His phone buzzed with a new text message. Bad day. Can you come home early?

He checked the time. Not even noon, and the day nurse wanted him to leave already? He replied that he’d stop by at lunchtime. He could kill two birds with that stone: get something to eat and check up on his mom. Then he’d drive out to the practice fields and talk to both Johnson and the coach. Life was all about multitasking.

He glanced out the window again, the gray February skies muddying his mood, turning it cold and dark. Images of Dr. Sprader crossed his mind, bringing a ray of sunshine to dissipate his gloomy state. Sure, she had appeared as if she were angry at him, but when he watched her with her patients, she had radiated something akin to kindness and compassion. A sort of contentment or...peace.

He straightened his tie and stood up. He didn’t have time to think about what he didn’t have. Better to focus on what he did.

He grabbed his wool trench coat from the hook behind his office door and stopped by his assistant’s desk. “I’ll be taking an early lunch today and stopping by practice to check on Antonio. Any messages before I leave?”

Dalvin huffed. “I keep this place a well-oiled machine. Nothing happens without you knowing.”

Zach clapped Dalvin on the shoulder. “You’ve got my number in case anything does come up.”

Dalvin pointed at his computer screen. “What do you think of these as wedding favors?”

Zach bent forward, scrunched his face. “We have to have favors, too?”

Dalvin shrugged. “I read about them on Pinterest.” His assistant pulled several sheets and fanned through them. “These are all the wedding details that still need planning.”

“That’s why I have you.” He sighed at the papers. “We’ll review them when I return.” He glanced at his watch. “Hopefully before four.”

“You got it, boss.”

Zach took the elevator to the parking garage below the building and walked to his sleek, black luxury SUV. Being an agent meant keeping up appearances, so he spent more than he should to project a successful image. He hit the key fob and unlocked the door before sliding into the leather seat and starting the powerful engine.

The drive from his office to his mother’s house took about a half hour on a good day, but the recent snow had left the roads slushy, slowing drivers. He arrived at the house he’d grown up in and parked behind the day nurse’s car. He took a deep breath before trudging up the snow-covered driveway to the back door. He unlocked it and jogged up a few steps into the kitchen. He turned right and found Dolores sitting at the dining room table, her head in her hands. She looked up at him when he called her name.

“Thank goodness you’re here. She’s been asking for you.”

He raised an eyebrow at this and took his coat off, hanging it on the back of one of the four chairs. “She remembers me today? That’s new.”

“Well, she’s been calling for your father, but she means you.” Dolores stood and pulled the edges of her pink cardigan closer together. “When I tried to explain that you’re at work, she threw her cereal bowl at me.”

He noted the dried milk spots on the cardigan. “You’re a saint for putting up with all of this.”

“And here I was thinking the same thing about you.”

A shriek from the back bedroom caught his attention. He walked down the short hallway to his mother’s room and opened the door. “Mother, I’m here.”

Her blank eyes lacked focus as he stood in the doorway watching her. “I knew you’d come home,” she said.

He stepped over clothes she’d probably thrown in a fit of temper and took a seat in the recliner next to her bed. “I always come home.”

“Because you’re a good man, Robert.” She reached out and touched his cheek.

“I’m Zach. Your son.” The doctor had said it was good to remind her of the reality despite her stubborn hold on the past. “Dad died when I was ten.”

She blinked. “Zach.” Her eyes searched his. “Zach should be home from school soon. Such a well-behaved boy. Smart. Just like his father.”

She put a hand on his, and he patted it before rising from the chair. “I’m just going to grab some lunch and then I have to go back to work, okay? But you be good for Dolores. She takes excellent care of you.”

“I want you to stay.” His mother pouted like a three-year-old who couldn’t get her own way. “You promised you’d take me for a picnic.”

“It’s the end of February, Mom. We have to wait for the warmer weather.” He noted the time and got a bottle of pills from the top of the dresser. Shaking out two pills into his hand, he said, “It’s time for your medicine. This will help you feel better.”

She took the pills like an obedient child, then fixed her gaze on the window. When she faced him again, he could tell he’d lost her once more. Her eyes looked at him, blank and confused. “I’m so tired.”