A Hopeful Heart and A Home, A Heart, A Husband

by Lois Richer

  “She always had this family thing,” he told her, as if he didn’t. “Sara was only ten at the time, and she needed a friend. The only way I could console her was by telling her we would still be related, and she clung to the relationship. She still uses it whenever she needs a hand, or a shoulder to cry on.”

  Mitch brushed the soft curls on her shoulder. One curling tendril fastened itself around his finger.

  “If she’s here, it must mean something has happened. She wouldn’t come to me unless she had nowhere else to go.”

  He tipped her rounded chin up, forcing her sad eyes to meet his. He smiled gently and brushed a feather-light kiss on the corner of her mouth. The sizzle was still there, he mused, pulling his mouth from hers with difficulty.

  “I promised I’d be here if she ever needed me, Melanie, and I can’t renege. Can you understand that?” He deliberately held her wide-eyed gaze with his, letting her see into his soul. He hoped somehow that she would understand, but he held his breath just in case.

  The bedside clock ticked loudly in the silence of the room while Melanie watched him. Finally, her soft hand closed around his as it cupped her chin.

  “Go,” was all she said, but it was enough.

  Mitch leaned down to press one more kiss on her full, inviting lips.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. When she kissed him back, he was drawn into a maelstrom of heat that burned in its intensity. Finally, he forced his head up. Getting off the bed, he straightened his backbone and walked resolutely to the door. Before he pulled it open, Mitch stopped and turned to face her.

  “We are not finished our earlier discussion,” he said quietly. “Not by a long shot. And one of these days we are going to finish what we start.” Then he turned and walked through the door, pulling it softly closed behind himself.

  Two hours later Mitch decided that life couldn’t get much more complicated. He had given Sara his bedroom and now he searched for some comfortable spot on the sofa. He was beginning to realize comfort was not one of the assets built into this piece of furniture.

  But worse, he kept seeing Melanie sitting on her bed, wearing her pyjamas, her face full of something he didn’t want to define. A picture of Hope’s astonished look when she’d let herself in an hour ago and found yet another female in residence was more than enough to scare away what little sleep he thought he might gather.

  Enough!

  Mitch rolled over and decided to focus on the previous evening and the conversation he and Melanie had shared. He’d been impressed with her plans for the nursing home. The money from Papa John’s ridiculous contest would go a long way toward her dream of installing those new bed monitors she had described.

  Mitch had been appalled when Melanie described how some patients were restrained from injuring themselves and others.

  “That’s inhumane,” he told her, outraged at the idea of anyone being restrained in a chair or bed.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “That’s why I’m trying to change the way we deal with residents. But the monitors are new and very expensive.” She’d studied her hands.

  “There is a lift that I’ve requested from the board several times, which lifts the resident out of the bathtub without endangering him. And a special type of whirlpool for those with arthritis.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “And it sure would be nice to get a stock of those new bed linens that would replace our present five layers of cotton. All that washing means we need a large laundry staff, and our bills are horrendous.”

  To Mitch, the list was unending.

  “Is the place that far behind?” His question had irked her.

  “I haven’t even told you about the van I want, to take residents on excursions to the park or whatever.” She smiled. “And we need a big-screen television that the visually impaired can see without squinting.” Melanie had enlightened him with several more plans, her hair shimmering red sparks in the low light of the restaurant.

  “Mitchel, there is a terrific need to update old machinery everywhere, including the special care homes. More and more, we are trying to keep seniors in their homes for as long as possible, with the help of visiting nurses and live-in care, but our population is aging, and the costs keep soaring.”

  He had seen Melanie’s green eyes flash fire with the intensity of her feelings. He watched her face, fascinated by its mobility as she described the home.

  “But it’s more than monetary needs. It’s also a perception of the way we treat senior citizens.” Her long fingers had pleated and folded the pale green napkin carefully as she spoke.

  “So many people today think that older people have lost their ability to hear and see and feel. They are rude and condescending to people who were once someone’s boyfriend, lover, coworker or friend. They have dehumanized our parents and grandparents into statistics. That’s something I won’t tolerate.”

  Her tone had been fierce, and Mitch was amazed at the amount of feeling Melanie had shown. It was clear that each resident was an individual to her, important in his or her own way. He had seen it well enough in the visitors she invited to the apartment, or had taken on long drives through the countryside. Just yesterday he’d watched her feed ice cream to a man who drooled continually. Melanie simply wiped his chin matter-of-factly and kept right on feeding him, talking all the while.

  Mitch sympathized with her opinions. In his own work, Mitch had watched as some of his clients tried to bully their parents into choices they clearly didn’t desire. All for the sake of money. It was a poor excuse, he knew that from firsthand experience.

  He was seriously attracted to her, Mitch decided, thunking his pillow once more. He had known that for a long time but had refused to acknowledge their growing chemistry because there was a part of him that steadfastly resisted becoming involved in a serious relationship. He had been involved with his heart once before.

  When the one person he had really trusted had walked away without a backward glance, Mitch had been stuck with pain unlike anything he’d ever known. But this thing with Melanie was different somehow. Wasn’t it? She would never do what Sam had done. But no matter how he phrased it, his mind stubbornly resisted and told Mitch exactly what happened when you got involved. You got hurt.

  And no doubt that little voice was right. He had watched his mother’s marriages go down the tubes for most of his childhood. He had experienced the pain and destruction that went along with it, all in the name of love. His father’s brutality had convinced him that love was not to be desired. No way would he do that to another person.

  Life didn’t come with guarantees, and there was no way he would subject another human being to the feeling of loss and abandonment he had known. He would enjoy Melanie’s companionship, yes, but his heart would remain untouched. He repeated it, just to make sure his subconscious absorbed all that.

  And yet as he lay there rolling the pictures through his mind, an inner voice questioned his truthfulness. Wasn’t it possible that he was already losing his detachment?

  Unbidden, the tape in his mind showed a giggling Melanie as she had tossed a laughing little boy in the air. Mitch had come home to find her baby-sitting her friend’s child one evening last week. He’d felt a funny tremor in his throat, a sort of tightening as he watched the two of them romp together. Her face had been alive with pleasure as she enjoyed the little boy’s hug. Her eyes lit with an inner light before she set him down to continue their game.

  For a moment, he’d almost thought that child was himself, years ago. It was exactly the scene he had always wanted to remember from his own youth and never would. Somehow that expression of love and devotion signified the kind of caring he had ached to have someone show him, but never had.

  He tossed the thought aside grimly.

  Don’t get sentimental, buddy, he told himself. Your life was about as far from her picture-perfect world as it got. And it isn’t going to change just because you’ve gone all syrupy over one beautiful nurse.

  Mitc
h turned over on the uncomfortable sofa, refusing to examine more closely what he felt. He hit the pillow one last time, deciding to get some sleep. Which wouldn’t be easy considering the way the sofa cushions separated under his ribs.

  “Lord, You know how I feel about this. And You know what’s inside of me, creating this ache for someone to be close to. Please help me to know the right road.”

  At three-thirty Mitch switched everything end for end, then lay down on the puffy unstable cushions once more. He still had Sara’s problem to deal with, he reminded himself. It would be a long day before he got that little issue settled to everyone’s satisfaction.

  It was probably going to be even longer before he got another chance to be alone with the woman in the next room. Mitch decided to forget everything but the picture he had in his mind of Melanie in that black fluffy outfit she had worn tonight. A smile curved his lips.

  Yes, sirree, that was quite a woman.

  “Melanie, Thomas McCabe peed in his juice glass again!” Bridget was not amused.

  Melanie faced Bridget, thinking out loud. “I have always deplored using diapers on adults just because it’s not convenient for the staff members to be kept constantly running to assist them.” Her face tightened. “But in Thomas’s case, I might be persuaded to reconsider. At least the dishes would be safe.”

  Melanie heard Bridget’s laughter bubble out behind her as she reluctantly left the applications she was perusing to deal with the recalcitrant Mr. McCabe.

  Of course, she didn’t get back to work immediately because, for the tenth time that day, one of their most uncooperative residents refused to lay off the buzzer beside his bed. She sucked in a deep breath, ready to lay it on the line, when the piercing shriek of a door alarm went off. Since she was nearest, Melanie headed for the exit at top speed, warily checking left and right to see who had activated it.

  She used her master key to silence the bell before heading out the door. She came face to face with Mitch. He was red with embarrassment as his sapphire blue eyes guiltily met hers. He shuffled from one foot to the other, jiggling his black leather briefcase impatiently.

  “Melanie.” His low, husky greeting caused a flare of excitement within her, which she forced herself to ignore.

  “What, exactly, are you doing?” she demanded, fixing him with her fiercest glare. When a worried RN stuck her head out the door, Melanie assured her that everything was fine. “Mr. Stewart merely lost his way,” she said. “Please leave the door unlocked. I’ll set it when I go back in.”

  Melanie planted her hands on her hips. “Well?”

  “Yes, well, uh, Mrs. Rivers, um, do you see her?” He was peering into the shrubbery like Inspector Clousseau.

  Melanie was not amused. She thought of those interviews that needed doing if she wasn’t to spend another weekend covering several part-time shifts on the floor. Not to mention the reports due two weeks ago. And she hadn’t even started charting the med orders that awaited processing after this morning’s rounds.

  “Time is of the essence here, Mitch. Exactly what do you want?”

  He looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was listening. “Mrs. Rivers phoned my office, asking me to be here at two-thirty sharp. She said it was urgent and a secret. She left specific directions to meet her here.” He looked around the courtyard again. A small frown pleated his forehead. “At least I think it was here,” he mused.

  Melanie burst out laughing.

  “Nettie Rivers suffers from memory loss, Mitch. She may very well have made an appointment, but chances are she’s totally forgotten what it was about.” Something clicked in Melanie’s mind. “Did you activate the alarm or was it already going?” Her voice was sharp with anxiety.

  Mitch grinned self-consciously, brushing a hand through his black locks. Melanie privately thought he looked even cuter all mussed up.

  “I guess I set it off,” he admitted. “That means she couldn’t be out here, right?”

  “Right.” Melanie tugged on his wool-suited arm. “Come on, Mitch, time to move on. Nettie is probably on her way to the dining room or already drinking her afternoon coffee as we speak.”

  She pulled him through the door and set the alarm. Brushing the fall of hair off her neck, she sighed.

  “I could do with a cup myself.” As Melanie strode energetically down the hall, Mitch moved to catch up.

  “Where’s her room?” he asked. “I’m curious to see if it has all been a hoax. My secretary said the old girl sounded pretty impatient.”

  Melanie stared at him. “Nettie’s room is down this corridor, then turn right.” She turned to speak to one of the special care aides, and when she turned back, Mitch had disappeared down the hall. Shrugging, she moved wearily toward the dining room. She had just poured herself a cup of coffee when he returned.

  “Can I join you?” he asked warily, noticing the lines of tiredness around her eyes.

  “Help yourself,” she told him, waving toward the trolley nearby. She was absolutely not going to wait on him. Not today, when her feet felt like lead.

  As they drank their coffee, Mitch told her more about the unusual phone call.

  “My secretary said she was whispering. I’m afraid I couldn’t get here when she wanted, so she said this afternoon would be fine.” His blue eyes, wide open and boyishly touching, stared into hers.

  Melanie told herself not to get mushy. There was a roomful of residents and staff surrounding her. Most of them had their eyes fixed on Mitch. She could imagine their thoughts.

  “I just thought of something.” Melanie motioned to one of the activities aides. “Didn’t Nettie Rivers go out this afternoon?” she asked curiously.

  The woman nodded, a grin creasing her full cheeks.

  “A limo picked her up right after lunch. Very fancy. She won’t be back till five or so. Your mother was with them.”

  “My mother?” Melanie frowned. Charity seldom went out with anyone but Faith and Hope, and certainly never in a limo. “And who is them?”

  But the aide had no more information. She hurried away to rescue her bingo game. Melanie looked at Mitch, shrugging.

  “I don’t know what they’re up to,” she said thoughtfully. “But if the fearsome threesome are involved, it’s liable to be complicated. Guess you got the times mixed up or misunderstood her.”

  “No,” he told her seriously, “I know she specifically said two-thirty.” He shrugged. “I’ll come back at five,” he told her. “Maybe she’ll be back by then.”

  They sat talking for the rest of her break. Melanie asked him questions about Sara, to which he relayed the barest information. He refused to give any details, and after a while Melanie gave up.

  By the time she arrived home, Melanie’s curiosity about the strange afternoon had soared. She made herself sit and talk amiably with Sara until Mitch came home, but the minute he was through the door she nabbed him.

  “Did you find Nettie? What did she want?” But Mitch wasn’t giving.

  “Sorry, Mel, but it’s client confidentiality. Can’t discuss it.” His eyes twinkled as he undid his flashy tie.

  Melanie flushed with embarrassment. He was enjoying this, darn the man. Okay, she could play, too. Turning to Sara, she asked innocently, “What was it you were telling me about Mitch’s girlfriends, Sara?” She grinned, satisfied when she saw his head whirl. Melanie winked at Sara, who caught on immediately.

  “Well, they’re all so cerebral, if you know what I mean. Brainy without an ounce of human kindness. There was this one…” Her voice trailed away as Mitch’s bedroom door slammed shut. The conspirators looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  Sara was a good sport, Melanie decided. Maybe his sister would help her try to understand what made Mitch tick, why he was so negative when it came to family and commitment.

  “Sara, please don’t think I’m trying to pry.” Melanie began slowly, feeling her way. “But why is it that Mitch is so closed off, self-contained? What’s his problem?�
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  Sara studied her, her dark head tilted to one side.

  “I have a pact with him,” she told Melanie in soft undertones. “I don’t break his privacy, and he reciprocates. But in your case…” Her blue eyes searched Melanie’s. “In your case I’m going to make an exception.” She took a deep breath and began the story.

  “Mitch has been a loner for as long as I’ve known him,” she told Melanie. “I suppose he’s told you that we are not really related?”

  Melanie nodded.

  “Well, Mitch and I were so happy when our parents got together. We thought we would be a family, you see. He wanted that so badly for his mother.” Her huge blue eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

  Melanie thought about what Mitch had told her of Sara’s need for family. Now she knew Mitch had needed one, too.

  Sara dashed her tears away and continued.

  “As it turned out, there couldn’t have been a worse move for our folks. They couldn’t agree on anything. And they fought continuously. About everything.” The younger woman was lost in thought.

  “Can you tell me any more, Sara?” Melanie hesitated to ask, but any information she could add to her cache of knowledge about Mitch could help her understand him better. She leaned back in the hard kitchen chair as Sara resumed speaking. In her mind she began building a picture of a vulnerable little boy.

  “I was ten and Mitch was fifteen. He was so happy to have a father who didn’t beat his brains out. Problem was, he couldn’t seem to relate to my dad.” Sara brushed her short hair off her flushed face. “Not that I blame him. I had a little trouble there myself.” Sara grinned that self-deprecating smile.

  “Anyway, things between them went from bad to worse. Add to that our parents’ total unhappiness with each other, and it’s not a pretty story.” Sadness flooded across her pretty face.

  “Finally, of course, they divorced. Mitch was furious when his mother married again just one year after she got the papers. He came to see me once in a while, and I got the gist of his life at home. It was pretty bad.”