Part 6 (1/2)
”No.” She forced herself to look back down at her menu. His penetrating stare made her uncomfortable, as if he could see right through her happy facade to the lonely, sad person beneath the sh.e.l.l. ”I don't have time. My only day off is Sunday, and even then I'm on emergency call. I just started my practice a few years ago, and trying to run it by myself has turned out to be a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
”So why not get a partner?”
Leah shook her head. ”I can't take the chance of someone finding out what I can do.”
”Hmm. I can see that.” He paused while the waitress set down the plate of bruschetta and poured the wine.
”Are you ready to order?” Angie asked.
John glanced at Leah. She still had no idea what to get. h.e.l.l, she didn't even know what half the items on the menu were.
”Umm...”
”Tell you what. Do you trust me to order for both of us?”
She jumped at the offer. ”Sure. Just don't get anything with mushrooms.”
He nodded and then looked up at the waitress. ”We'll start with two orders of pasta f.a.gioli. She'll have the eggplant Bolognese over linguini, and I'll have the veal saltimbocca with a side of ziti.”
”Comin' right up.” The girl took their menus and hurried away.
Leah leaned close so the patrons at the other tables wouldn't hear her. ”Okay, so what did you order for me? The only thing I recognized was eggplant.”
He smiled and patted her hand. ”Nothing too exotic. Macaroni and bean soup, followed by diced eggplant in a red meat sauce over pasta.”
She returned his smile. ”I can handle that.”
John raised his winegla.s.s to her. The ruby-colored liquid seemed exotic in the flickering candlelight. ”A toast.” He waited until she picked up her gla.s.s, before continuing. ”To a relaxing, enjoyable evening.”
”Oh, I'll drink to that,” she said and then took a healthy sip of her wine. The Chianti flowed over her tongue, breaking apart into different bursts of flavor. Essences of grape, cherry and strawberry filled her mouth, with just a hint of spice and alcohol burn.
”Oh, that's good. I don't usually drink red wines. I'm more of a white Zinfandel person.”
”If you're going to have a hearty sauce, you need a stronger wine to compete with it.”
”So you're a wine connoisseur too?” she asked, hoping to hide her returning embarra.s.sment behind playful banter. She was suddenly having second thoughts about agreeing to the date. She knew she wasn't knowledgeable about a lot of things. Fine food and wine had never interested her while she'd been in college or vet school, and her vacations had usually been spent either with her family or volunteering at local veterinary offices.
But she'd never realized until now how uninformed she was. Being with John made her feel like she'd just stepped off the bus from b.u.t.tmunch, Idaho, for her first trip to the big city.
”A connoisseur? Hardly.” He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. ”I just know what I like. Plus I have a friend who owns a liquor store, and he has monthly wine-tasting parties. I'll bring you to the next one; they're a lot of fun.”
”I don't know.” She put down her gla.s.s, deciding it was better to be honest right away. ”I feel like I just crawled out from under a rock. I don't know what to order, I've probably only been to three restaurants in the last five years, and I'll be lucky if I use the right fork for my salad.”
”Hey, don't worry about that. This isn't school. There's no test later.”
He leaned toward her, his face radiating sincerity. ”Your problem is you need to get out more. At the risk of ruining the mood, I have to ask. Have you ever had a steady relations.h.i.+p?”
The question cut too close to the truth, and she found herself overreacting. ”Of course! I haven't lived in a bubble, you know.”
John held his hands up in mock surrender. ”Hey, don't get upset. I didn't think you'd never dated, but didn't any of your boyfriends ever take you anyplace nice?”
d.a.m.n him! ”Is that something they teach you at the academy?”
”What?”
”How to figure out just the right question to ask. How to get past a person's defenses.”
”I think it's just more of a talent of mine,” he answered with a sheepish grin.
Angie arrived just then with two steaming cups of soup.
”Everything okay?”
John nodded and she left them alone again. Leah took another sip of wine to calm herself before answering his question. ”To be honest, I've only had one serious relations.h.i.+p. I met him my senior year in veterinary school, and I thought my whole life was falling into place. A man who seemed to love me, my career getting ready to start, what more could a girl want?”
”What happened?”
She looked down at her plate, not wanting to see his expression when she told him. ”He died two years after we started dating. We were talking about getting engaged.”
”I'm sorry.” He sounded sincere, but still she refused to look at him. It was always the same when it came time to tell the story, the expressions of sorrow followed by supposed understanding.
”It was a brain aneurysm,” she went on. ”He was supposed to come over to my apartment, but he said he had a headache and wanted to go to bed instead. I figured I'd just get some extra studying done and see him the next day. In the morning, he didn't answer his phone so I went over there. I found him... I called 9-1-1 but it was too late. The doctor at the hospital said there was nothing anyone could have done.”
She stopped there, waiting for the response she always heard.
This time it didn't come.
”But you could've, if you'd known.” John's voice was matter-of-fact. No recrimination, but no hiding from the truth, either.
She looked up and saw that he was staring back at her, complete understanding in his eyes.
For the first time, she was able to get the rest of the story, her feelings, out.
”Yes! It would have been so easy. But he said it was just a headache. If...if I'd been there, I would have known something was wrong. I can see where the sickness is, but only after it gets serious. That's why I didn't notice it before.”
”You never told him what you can do?”
”No.” She finished her wine and he poured another gla.s.s for both of them. ”I didn't think he'd understand. Hank was a great guy, but not exactly educated. He'd gone to work as a plumber right after high school. His idea of a big night out was TGI Fridays.”
”Don't do that.”
The coldness in his voice caught her by surprise.
”Do what?”
”Blame this on him. He wouldn't have needed a college degree to understand what you can do. The truth is, you never told him because you were afraid. Afraid he'd think you were a freak. Afraid he'd leave you.”