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

by Lois Richer

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you both about.” Hope smiled, hugging Faith back. “I have a little plan in mind and I want you to help me carry it out.”

  Faith jumped to her feet, clapping in excitement.

  “I do so love your plans, Hope.” She beamed happily. “You’re always so organized and efficient. What shall I do, Hope, dear?”

  “I think perhaps you’d better explain this plan first, Hope. I have a feeling it involves more than you and the judge. Am I correct?” Charity waited for Hope’s nod. “I daresay you have some notion of involving my daughter in it.”

  Charity rose from her easy chair and stood frowning at her best friend.

  “I do not want Melanie involved in one of your schemes, Hope. Something might go wrong, and my daughter would be very hurt. She knows what she wants out of life, she just hasn’t found it yet.”

  “Oh, yes, she has,” Hope murmured. She brushed a soothing hand over Charity’s bent shoulder. “I’m not suggesting anything nasty. Just a little helping hand. That’s all, I promise.”

  “And I’ll give a helping hand, too,” Faith offered. “After all, I did a pretty fair job of it with Gillian and Jeremy, didn’t I?” She beamed with satisfaction.

  “You did a wonderful job, Faith. And they make a very nice couple. Those two truly love each other.” Hope’s voice brimmed with tenderness as she smiled at her friend. “I couldn’t have wished for a better man for my niece than your nephew.”

  “Good heavens.” Charity breathed in astonishment. “You don’t mean to say that you’re trying to match up my daughter with Harry’s grandson?” She shook her head. “Oh, Hope. I don’t think it’s a good idea at all. Melanie doesn’t even like the man. It could all go so wrong and then everyone will be miserable.”

  “It’s not going to go wrong,” Hope said firmly. “Now, here’s my plan. I intend to ask Melanie and Mitch to help us with our wedding.” She detailed the arrangements carefully, and when she had finished all three women were smiling broadly.

  “I knew you’d have a wonderful plan,” Faith cheered. “You always do.”

  “And with a lot of help and several minor miracles from above,” Charity added dourly, “you just might get it to work.”

  If she hoped to dampen the spirits of her friends, Charity acknowledged that it wasn’t working.

  “Well, then, let’s ask for that help right now,” Hope urged them. “You might remember, Charity,” she chided her friend. “God can do anything.” And reverently they bowed their heads to ask their heavenly Father’s help in carrying out Hope’s wonderful plan.

  Hello, Mother. I stopped by to ask you if I might move in with you for a while. Just until I can find another place.”

  Charity stared at her daughter standing drenched and glum-faced in the sudden downpour, still clad in her pink uniform.

  “Darling, of course you can. You know that! Come in.”

  She urged her inside and waited while Melanie tried to dry herself off. “But I thought you had to stay at Mitch’s until they awarded the prize money?”

  “Originally that was the plan. But now his sister is here, and the house she bought isn’t ready for her or the kids, and I think it’s only fitting that Sara stay with her brother.” She swooped her damp hair into a knot on the top of her head. “There’s just not enough room.”

  Charity stared. “But I thought Hope was moving out?”

  “She did. This morning. That’s another reason I think I should leave. It doesn’t seem right for me to be staying there now. And Sara and the kids need my room.” Melanie peered at her mother suspiciously. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to come home, Mother?”

  “Of course not! The very idea!” Charity led the way into the same living room Melanie had spent her teen years, without notable success, to decorate to resemble the pictures in several fashionable magazines. “You know that you’re welcome anytime.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Melanie hugged the thin shoulders gratefully. “I was hoping you’d say that, because I’ve got my stuff in the car outside.”

  She raced out to the car and returned with two huge suitcases and a paper sack that broke as she came in the door. Melanie blushed as her mother’s eyes roved over the bits of tulle, tiny plastic cupids and packages of mints splayed across her floor.

  “What in the world?” Charity’s eyes were huge with amazement as she spotted white ribbon embossed with bells and tiny golden rings.

  “They’re for the reception. Hope wanted something for every guest. And the rings go around a little scroll that tells about the custom of marriage. It’s really quite lovely.”

  “But the woman hasn’t even chosen her invitations yet,” Charity gasped. “Shouldn’t that be first on the list?”

  “I asked her the same thing,” Melanie said, stretching to reach the last ring under the heavy oak bureau in the dining room. “She said, and I quote, ‘It’s being handled.’”

  Melanie plopped into the badly sprung easy chair, edging carefully away from its protruding spring, and frowned at her adoptive parent.

  “Mother, what do you really think of it all?”

  “Darling, Hope is my very best friend.” Charity smiled as she flicked a speck of dust off her coffee table. “I want her to be happy, so naturally I’m very pleased she’s found someone to brighten her life.”

  “Yes, of course,” Melanie agreed absently. “But why now? Why all of a sudden like this?”

  “Melanie,” Charity reprimanded her in a tone of voice Melanie was very familiar with. “Hope and Harry Conroy have been dating on and off for nearly fifteen years. I hardly think this is a quick decision. Besides, maybe she’s begun to realize that each person only has a finite amount of days available to him.”

  “I think it has more to do with Jean and Papa John,” Melanie murmured slyly, peering up between her lashes.

  Charity frowned. “Why would they matter?”

  “Hope thinks Papa John is Jean. And Papa John is attracted to Mrs. Rivers. He’s always coming to visit her, brings her flowers, takes her for a drive. They even have long, involved conversations.”

  “Melanie!” Her mother scolded her with her eyes. “They are adults, entitled to their privacy. I thought you encouraged that at Sunset.”

  “Of course I encourage it,” Melanie told her defensively. “But I can’t help noticing, can I? Besides, what on earth do they have to discuss? They’ve hardly known each other long enough.”

  “Oh, darling.” Charity laughed. “When you find your heart’s mate, you discuss everything under the sun. You and Mitchel seem to have some of those same discussions,” she said offhandedly.

  To her disgust, Melanie felt her face color. She frowned. “We’ve only been discussing the wedding,” she claimed stoutly. “For some reason, Judge Conroy has asked Mitch to help out with the wedding. Although what that lawyer knows about weddings could probably fit into a thimble with room left over for your finger.”

  The doorbell rang, preventing Charity from chastising her youngest child.

  “Why, Mitchel! Do come in. How are you this evening, dear?”

  Melanie straightened and whirled to face her nemesis, filled with foreboding. To her surprise he had a smile on his face.

  “Hi, Mrs. Flowerday. I’m fine, thanks. I wondered if I could speak to Melanie for a moment. I happened to notice her car out front.”

  “Of course, dear. Come in and have a seat. I’m just going to pick up a loaf of bread from the grocery store. I never baked any today, you see.” She glanced from one to the other of the young people. Realizing that they were paying her absolutely no mind whatsoever, she grasped her purse and headed out the door.

  “Are they in there?” Hope whispered as soon as Charity had negotiated the stairs. “They’re not fighting, are they?” she demanded in the next breath.

  Charity wrapped her hand around Hope’s thin elbow and drew her along the sidewalk.

  “Now, Hope,” she chastised in
a smiling voice. “You were left to manage your own love life. Let’s give them the same opportunity.”

  “Ha!” Hope’s lips turned down in disgust. “I stayed with them for weeks in that apartment, and as far as I can tell, their minds never got close enough to consider marriage, let alone view the other as marriage material!”

  “Perhaps, my dear Miss Busybody Hopeless,” Charity said, using an old childhood nickname, “perhaps you don’t see as clearly as you once did.”

  Melanie, meanwhile, was having trouble with her breathing. Instead of his usual grungy after-hours attire, Mitch was handsomely turned out in a pair of pressed white cuffed shorts and a shirt the exact shade of his cobalt blue eyes. He had on brand-new runners with white—pristine white—socks. His hair was tousled as though someone had just run a hand through it, and for the tiniest moment Melanie felt jealous.

  “Hi,” he murmured, his eyes moving over her wrinkled, still soggy uniform and the scraggly wad of hair pinned to the top of her head. “Have another rough day?”

  “No,” she informed him abruptly. “I got caught in the rain.” She sucked in a deep breath of courage and then let it out in a whoosh. “I’m moving into my mother’s for the next little while. You and Sara need the extra room, especially with the kids here now, too.”

  “I see.” He looked almost sad, she decided. “It’s a good thing I came over then, isn’t it? Otherwise I might not have known.” She would have started explaining, but he cut her off.

  “Anyway, thanks for thinking of them. This house thing is going to take a little longer than either of us had realized.” His eyes studied her carefully. “What’s really behind your decision, Melanie?”

  “I just didn’t feel right about living there anymore,” she told him softly. “Not after last Sunday’s sermon about living a lie. And anyway, my mother’s guests have left now. I always said I’d leave when I found another place.” She refused to meet his glance.

  “Could we talk as I unpack the car? I have a ton of things to do for this wedding, and one of my best nurses just went on maternity leave. I may have to go back in.”

  “Sure. Come on, I’ll help you.” And he did. Stoically, without complaint, he carted in box after box, ignoring the dust and mud spots on his clothes. “This isn’t all of it, is it?” he asked after lugging the last box up the narrow stairs to her old bedroom.

  “No, but I couldn’t manage any more in one trip.”

  “Well, let’s go get the rest of it, then. If you’re anything like Sara, you can’t do without even one of your possessions!”

  It sounded like a good opening to an argument, but after his willing help, Melanie didn’t have the heart to take him up on it. Besides, she was so hot and tired, she wanted to save every ounce of energy for lifting.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Might as well get it over with.”

  “Might as well.” Mitch spoke in a voice that Melanie wished was a little less enthusiastic. Did he want to be rid of her that badly?

  Sara had just finished laying the table when they arrived. Melanie could hear the boisterous voices of children giggling and laughing in the other room. Since the children had only arrived that morning, Melanie hadn’t had the chance to meet them yet. She moved curiously through the front door, wiping her hands on the seat of her pants. There were two of them, one boy and one girl. They were playing some type of tag, racing around and around the apartment, each trying to avoid the other.

  “Becky and Ben,” Sara sternly said. “This is an apartment, not the playground.”

  The two looked suitably chastened. Their black hair and wide blue eyes were identical. Sara spotted Melanie and grinned.

  “These two are mine,” she told her proudly. “Kids, this is Uncle Mitch’s roommate, Melanie.”

  Mitch’s mouth twitched at her words, but neither he nor Melanie had any opportunity to remonstrate with Sara as one of the twins spoke.

  “Are you Uncle Mitch’s girlfriend?” Becky asked, her head tilted.

  Melanie’s cheeks flushed a dark red, but as she opened her mouth, the other child spoke.

  “We always like Uncle Mitch’s girlfriends. Are you getting married?”

  Mitch’s blue gaze met Melanie’s head on. In his eyes, she could read the message clearly—fat chance. He chastised the children for their rudeness and then explained their situation.

  “Melanie is a friend of mine. She was staying here until she could find her own place, but then you guys arrived and she decided to move out to give you more room. You be nice,” he added sternly.

  Both shrugged. “Okay,” they agreed happily before moving to turn on the television.

  Sara went to shower while the casserole cooked. Melanie was in the kitchen when she felt a long finger under her chin as Mitch tipped it up to look into her bright eyes.

  “Sorry about that,” he murmured, his hand cupping the curve of her jaw. “They tend to talk first and think later.” His eyes twinkled at her. “You have to admit, though, they only asked what a lot of people in this town already think.”

  Melanie couldn’t control the surge of red that colored her face.

  “It’s a good thing I’m going, then,” she managed to say. “Maybe my departure will settle all the gossip down.”

  Mitch laughed at her embarrassment as his hand tugged her thickly curling hair. The caress was softly intimate, and Melanie felt the familiar thud of her heart as it pressed to jump out of her body.

  “They’d worry even more if they knew about this.”

  She felt his gentle touch on her neck before his lips closed over hers. It was a softly questioning kiss, seeking an answer from her. Melanie kissed him back, then delicately pressed her lips against his stubbled cheek.

  “Fortunately for your reputation, I don’t kiss and tell.” He dipped his head again, seeking the touch of her mouth. They would have continued but for the giggles that erupted.

  “I told you she was his girlfriend,” one knowledgeable voice whispered. “That’s why they’re kissing.”

  “Is not,” the other said. “It’s ‘cause she’s got a boo-boo. Uncle Mitch is making it all better.” Nodding, the two continued their investigation of the apartment by returning to the living room.

  Melanie tried to break away, but Mitch wouldn’t let her. He tightened his arms around her waist.

  “Do you have a boo-boo?” he asked quietly, his eyes dark and serious. “Tell me where it hurts.”

  Melanie considered his offer and then tapped a finger to her cheek. Her mother hadn’t raised any fools, and if this was to be her last opportunity to be close to Mitch, she was grabbing it with both hands.

  “Right here,” she murmured. His lips pressed gently there. “And here,” she added, and waited for his touch on her temple. “And here.” Daringly she pressed a hand to her mouth, waiting with bated breath.

  His eyes watched her, deep fathomless pools of blue, until finally his hand slid across her shoulder and his mouth brushed across her lips in a tender caress that made her heart ache.

  “You’re asking for trouble, Melanie Stewart,” he murmured.

  “No,” she whispered. “Just a kiss. To make it all better.”

  He kissed her with more passion than she had dreamed possible. Melanie would have crumpled to the floor if his strong arms hadn’t held her against the counter. When he finally moved his mouth, she tipped her head, giving him free access to the sensitive skin of her neck. And Mitch took advantage until the buzzing timer and loud voices drew him out of his lethargy.

  “I’m not crazy about your timing,” he muttered in her ear as they listened to the high-pitched squeals in the next room. “But I am crazy about your…boo-boos.” He grinned saucily, stepping away from her when she would have retaliated.

  They could hear Sara chastising the children a few feet away. Reluctantly, Melanie turned off the timer and lifted out the steaming dish as her mind protested the end of their embrace.

  “Later,” he whispered in her ear,
before his sister walked into the room.

  Mitch raved about the Spanish rice dish, and the children ate everything on their plates, including the little bit of salad they were served and had deemed yucky. There was a great deal of frivolity during the meal, and Melanie felt Mitch’s gaze on her warm face more than once. She was glad when they could resume carrying boxes. At least he couldn’t stare at her all the time!

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Sara murmured as she packed in the last of Melanie’s knickknacks. “The kids and I could have gone to a hotel. Especially when it means you might lose the prize money.”

  “Don’t be silly! Of course I’ll stay with Mother for a little while. You guys need the room. I probably should have moved there in the first place,” she muttered, getting in behind the wheel. “Missionaries or not.”

  “What! And spared me Hope’s tofu casserole and your early, early morning rising?” Mitch teased, getting in beside her. “Not to mention bran flakes and all the odious comments about my health.”

  “Why are you in my car?” Melanie asked, frowning as his knee brushed hers. “You live here, remember?”

  He bowed. “Yes, thank you. I do remember. Senility does not run in my family.” He arched an assessing look at her. “But my car is at your mother’s. Besides, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Oh. I forgot.” Melanie put Bessie into gear, waved goodbye to Sara and pulled away from the curb. She kept her lips closed and her eyes on the road ahead. But it was totally impossible to ignore the grinning giant next to her.

  “What is that noise?” he asked at last, shifting gingerly in the narrow confines of his seat. “Is it going to blow up?”

  “Not yet,” Melanie said, refusing to rise to the bait. “Bessie needs her carb cleaned. I just haven’t had time.”

  The car backfired, jolting Mitch out of his seat with a jerk.

  “It needs to be retired,” he muttered, casting her a baleful look. “I hadn’t realized your love of seniors ran to cars.”