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A nurse on Philip’s floor gave her a suspicious look as she walked down the wide corridor carrying a guitar.
One loud knock against his door was all the warning she gave.
“Carla.”
She suspected it was relief she heard in his voice, but she didn’t pause to question him. Instead, she pulled out the chair beside his bed, sat at an angle on the cushion, and strummed one discordant chord. With that, she proceeded to serenade him in the only song she knew in Spanish.
He started to laugh, but quickly grimaced and tried to contain his amusement. “Why are you singing to me the A, B, C’s?”
“It’s the only Spanish song I know all the way through. However, if you’d like to hear parts of ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’ I’ll be happy to comply.”
Extending a hand to her, he shook his head. “The only thing I want is you.”
“That’s a different tune than you were singing yesterday.”
“Yesterday I was an unreasonable boor.” He pulled her closer to his side. “I’m glad you’re here. Today I promise to be a much better patient.”
“Once we’re married, I suspect I’ll have ways of helping you out of those irrational moods.”
The room went quiet as Philip’s eyes sought hers. “Once we’re married.”
“You did ask me, and you better not have changed your mind, because I’ve already given my two-week notice at the hospital.”
“Carla.” His gray eyes reflected an intensity she had rarely witnessed. “Do you mean it?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. But I won’t have you holding out on me. If I’m going to be your wife, I expect you to trust me enough not to try to shield me from whatever comes our way. I’m stronger than I look, Philip Garrison.”
“Far stronger,” he agreed, as his hand slipped around her waist. “You’ve already convinced me of that. I love you, Carla Walker—soon to be Carla Garrison.”
Tenderness surged through her as she slipped her arms over his shoulders. “But not near soon enough,” she said with a sigh of longing as her mouth eagerly sought his.
Laughter in the Rain
One
“I’m so late. I’m so late.”
The words were like a chant in Abby Carpenter’s mind with every frantic push of the bike pedals. She was late. A worried glance at her watch when she paused at the traffic light confirmed that Mai-Ling would already be in Diamond Lake Park, wondering where Abby was. Abby should have known better than to try on that lovely silk blouse, but she’d seen it in the store’s display window and couldn’t resist. Now she was paying for the impulse.
The light turned green and Abby pedaled furiously, rounding the corner to the park entrance at breakneck speed.
Panting, she stopped in front of the bike stand and secured her lock around a concrete post. Then she ran across the lush green lawn to the picnic tables, where she normally met Mai-Ling. Abby felt a rush of relief when she spotted her.
Mai-Ling had recently immigrated to Minneapolis from Hong Kong. As a volunteer for the World Literacy Movement, Abby was helping the young woman learn to read English. Mai-Ling caught sight of her and waved eagerly. Abby, who’d been meeting her every Saturday afternoon for the past two months, was impressed by her determination to master English.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Abby apologized breathlessly.
Mai-Ling shrugged one shoulder. “No problem,” she said with a smile.
That expression demonstrated how quickly her friend was adapting to the American way of speaking—and life.
Mai-Ling started to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Abby asked as she slid off her backpack and set it on the picnic table.
Mai-Ling pointed at Abby’s legs.
Abby looked down and saw one red sock and one that was blue. “Oh dear.” She sighed disgustedly and sat on the bench. “I was in such a rush I didn’t even notice.” No wonder the salesclerk had given her a funny look. Khaki shorts, mismatched socks, and a faded T-shirt from the University of Minnesota.
