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

by Lois Richer

  “Oh, piffle! Of course I wanted to fuss over you,” Faith said sternly. Her blue eyes were narrowed. “People want a chance to fuss over you, Melanie. You’re always doing something for someone else, and we just want a chance to pay you back.”

  “I didn’t do anything special,” Melanie said. “I was just doing my job to make sure everything was settled down after the fire.”

  “You always do your job. That and more,” Faith murmured. “It’s almost as if you’re afraid to stop and let us love you.”

  Melanie jerked in her chair as she stared at her mother’s dearest friend. There was something different about Faith today. Some strange look in her eye.

  “It’s not that,” Melanie denied softly. “It’s just that I feel it’s my…” She couldn’t express it exactly.

  “Your duty,” Faith added steadily. “Melanie, do you think that we could love you any more or any less just because of what you do or don’t do for people?”

  “Of course not!” Melanie burst out, red flags of embarrassment warming her cheeks.

  “No, we couldn’t, but my dear, you spend so much time going the second mile that you never let anybody minister to you,” Faith murmured softly. Her hand affectionately stroked Melanie’s loose auburn waves.

  “I’m sorry,” Melanie said stiffly. “I never realized that I was bothering anyone. Someone should have said something.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all, dear,” Faith told her firmly. “And I think you know it.” She waited, watching carefully for the grudging nod of admission. “We love you, Melanie. All of us. Your mother, Hope, me, your friends at the nursing home, the people you always have time to give an ear to. We all think you’re a very special person, and we are very grateful for the many things you’ve done for us all.”

  “You don’t have to say this,” Melanie blustered, feeling insecure and slightly childish, as well. “I’m only doing what I should. ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive,’” she quoted staunchly.

  “Piffle,” Faith exploded, standing. “That is the most misquoted piece of scripture I have ever heard. And it’s never referred to by the people who need it most.”

  “I, uh, don’t know what you mean.” Melanie frowned, pouring herself another cup of coffee. “What people?”

  “Greedy souls who can never see another person’s need.” Faith’s usually sweet voice was harsh. “No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t get me started on that or I’ll get sidetracked and never say what I came to say.”

  Melanie blinked several times, trying to focus on the conversation.

  “What did you come to say?” she urged quietly. Her nerves felt taut, stretched.

  “Melanie, do you love Mitchel?” Faith demanded outright.

  “I, er, that is, well…” She looked into Faith’s green eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. If you look deep inside yourself, you’ll know whether or not Mitch is the man you want to wake up to in the mornings. If the thought of him makes your skin crawl, then you’ll know he’s not the one.”

  Melanie blushed at the straightforward words, assessing the older woman with a different perspective.

  “He doesn’t make my skin crawl,” she admitted, looking at her tightly knit fingers. In fact, the thought of kissing Mitch and having him kiss her back made her skin react in an entirely different way altogether, Melanie acknowledged privately.

  “No, I suspect he makes your heart beat faster and your breathing quicken whenever he’s around, doesn’t he?” The older woman nodded wisely. “And when something interesting happens at work, or you hear some special bit of news, you want to share it with him first, don’t you?”

  Melanie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was busy remembering those special moments for herself.

  Faith let her think for several moments before her worn, tired hand with its sparkling gold band slid over Melanie’s.

  “Why won’t you admit that Mitchel Stewart is the one and only man for you?” she demanded quietly.

  “Because he’s not,” Melanie told her, dashing the stream of tears from her eyes. “I’ve prayed and prayed about it, and whenever I ask for some guidance, another obstacle comes up. God doesn’t want me to get married. He wants me to continue with the work I’m doing and be content with my life.”

  “So now you know the mind of God?” Faith snapped her fingers in disgust.

  “But, Faith, it’s true. I’ve prayed and prayed.”

  “So there were a few problems. So what?” Faith sank into a chair across the table and stared straight into Melanie’s eyes until the younger woman was sure Faith could see clear through to her heart.

  “Darling Melanie,” she began, shaking her head in dismay. “I believe you love Mitch far more than you’ve even admitted to yourself, but you think you’re not worth loving, or some such silly nonsense. You think that you need to earn love when love is freely given, whether you will accept it or not.” She smiled sadly. “Let me ask you something, Melanie. What did Mitch have to do to earn a place in your heart? Did he have to invite you to stay in his apartment? Did he have to take you out to dinner so many times or spend a certain amount on flowers?” Faith’s voice rose. “Was it important that he be a lawyer and have a good job so he could buy you things or drive you places in that flashy new car? What list did he have to fill to be worthy of your love?”

  “I don’t have any list of criteria for men,” Melanie spluttered, aghast at the thought. “There wasn’t anything specific that he did. It’s just who he is.” She was getting frustrated.

  “So it wasn’t because he was tall, dark and handsome,” Faith offered. “He earned your affection because he was willing to help you get that money?”

  “He didn’t earn it,” Melanie almost yelled. Her chagrin with the deliberately vague woman overflowed. “I fell in love with him just because of who he was.”

  As soon as the words had left her mouth, Melanie’s eyes widened. She clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay but Faith was beaming from ear to ear.

  “Exactly.” Faith’s countenance glowed with satisfaction. “And who do you think put that love in your heart and let it bloom and grow if it wasn’t your very own personal God?”

  Melanie stared at her.

  “Do you know the scripture that tells us to ask God for the desires of our hearts because He wants to give us them more than we know?”

  Melanie frowned. “But that’s being greedy and concerned about ourselves, isn’t it?”

  “No, dear. That’s admitting that we’re human and we like company through our life.” Faith closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “You know,” she reminisced, “I recall the way you used to play, years ago. You were always so intent on playing family. It didn’t matter what the other kids wanted, you always returned to your favorite game of a mommy and a daddy and their children.” She sat up and grinned.

  “I used to think it was because you hadn’t had a really good home life and wanted that for yourself. But you know, Melanie, I believe that even then, God was working in you, creating and building on the desire for a family because that’s what He intended for you to have. Do you think that He would ask you to forget about what He’s specially planted in you?”

  “But I don’t know how to be a mother.” Melanie grasped at the only straw she could think of. “Or a wife, for that matter. I never had very good role models. Charity’s been wonderful, of course, but she had already raised her children when I arrived. She knew what she was doing. I haven’t got a clue what to expect. What if I mess up?”

  Faith burst out laughing.

  “Oh, my darling girl,” she gasped. “If you only knew how many phone calls Charity made to us asking if we thought she was being too soft or too strict, if we thought you should be allowed to go out with the Whalen boy or not, if we would pray for you when Charity’s husband died and you blamed yourself.” She wiped the tears away.

  “My dear girl, if you mess up in life, you cle
an up the mess and move on!” She grinned. “It’s time for you to take a break and relax, Melanie. Have a day off. Contemplate your navel.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Melanie whispered in a gurgle of tears and laughter. “It sounds hedonistic.”

  “Maybe a little hedonism is what you need right now.” Faith giggled. “Nobody knows the future, Melanie. All we can know is that we can trust in God because He thinks we’re worthy of it. After all, He paid the same price for all of us.”

  “Yes, but this isn’t the same thing,” Melanie wailed. “Mitch doesn’t love me. He keeps insisting on this proposal because he wants the money. I want someone who wants me for myself.”

  “Proposal?” Faith’s birdlike glance lighted on Melanie for a moment while she digested this. “What exactly did he say, dear?”

  Groaning at her slip, Melanie gave her a shortened version of Mitch’s tactics, ending up with tears rolling down her face. Angrily, she dashed them away.

  “He just wants the money,” she reiterated. “And he’ll do anything to get it. He’s rude and pushy and overbearing and bossy and—and—” She stopped to sniff.

  “And wonderful and handsome and the man you love more than anything,” Faith finished with a smile. “And he doesn’t want to marry you for the money. Of that I’m sure.”

  “Why?” Melanie demanded. “What has he said?”

  “To me, nothing. But think, my dear. Think of the childhood he’s had and his attitude toward marriage. I don’t think money could motivate him that strongly when his old girlfriend with the rich father didn’t stop him from finishing school, do you?”

  Melanie stared.

  “How do you know about…” She stopped and shrugged. Some things were just unexplainable, and the fearsome threesome’s knowledge of everyone and their history was one of those things.

  “Furthermore, Mitch is a legal eagle. If he intended to marry you simply for the money, I’m sure he would have drawn up a prenuptial agreement that would set you both free without any unnecessary encumbrances.” She raked a hand through her white curls, sending them every which way.

  “Besides all that, he isn’t getting the money, is he? He’s told Papa John that neither you nor he will accept it. That’s because he wants to start on the fresh, firm foundation of something much stronger than money. Love.” She crowed triumphantly.

  “And that’s another thing,” Melanie grumbled. “How can he just up and tell them to stuff their money without talking to me? I wanted that cash.”

  “I know.” Faith nodded. “For Sunset.” She studied Melanie. “I wonder,” she murmured.

  “Faith? Yoohoo!” Melanie waved her hand. “What were you thinking?” she asked when the green eyes finally focused once more.

  “Oh, I’m just wondering if you weren’t just a little too wrapped up in that money and God needed to get your attention. It’s possible, you know, that Mitch wanted that money out of the way so he would know you wanted to marry him for himself and not because you’d get some cash.”

  Melanie thought about that for a long time, tossing the idea into the air and then discarding it as her own wants and not fact. But then, according to Faith, she didn’t know which end was up anymore. And, strangely enough, right now Melanie would have agreed with that assessment!

  “In a way, you’re right, Faith,” she admitted at last. “All this time, and I’ve really only fooled myself into believing money was the most important thing. And it wasn’t.” She smiled grimly. “I wanted that money so badly that I forgot to let God handle it. I thought I could force things, get what I wanted my way.” Melanie grimaced in remembrance. “I wanted to matter to someone so much that I even thought I could fake living with Mitch if it meant I’d get that money and be the lifesaver for Sunset.” She shrugged miserably. “I forgot who’s really in charge.”

  “We all do from time to time, dear,” Faith said encouragingly. “Then the Lord has to catch our attention. Now that you’re listening again, you can ask Him for more directions.”

  Melanie sat thinking about those words of wisdom.

  “I must go,” Faith said, staring at her watch. “Arthur’s coming home tonight, and I want to make myself look good.” She preened in front of Charity’s kitchen mirror. “He likes me in autumn colors, you know.” Her voice held the girlish giggle of a young woman meeting her beau. She turned to Melanie and patted her hand.

  “Think over what I’ve said, my dear. Relax, enjoy a day off. Go to the park and take a walk to clear your head while someone else takes over at Sunset.” She smiled hugely. “It’s time for you to let others enjoy the gift of giving while you learn the fine art of receiving. Open up your heart and let the sunshine in. Ta, ta.” And with a whirl and a swish, Faith was off down the steps and into the street, whistling merrily as she skipped along.

  “Learn the art of receiving,” Melanie repeated. “It makes sense. In a strange, weird kind of way.” She cleared the dishes away, wrapped the cinnamon buns in plastic wrap and wiped off the table before grabbing her jacket from the closet.

  “Maybe a walk is the best thing,” she told herself as she strode down the street. “Maybe I do need to go out and see the world differently. The truth of the matter is,” she lectured herself, “I’ve been trying to get for a long time now. I don’t need that money. Sunset will manage just fine. The important thing is that I’m doing the job I was put here to do—with whatever God gives me to do it with.”

  So intent was she on her voyage that Melanie failed to notice the three pairs of interested eyes peering out the sheer curtains at Hope’s. Nor did she pay particular attention when a white-bearded gent stopped in front of a house across the street and escorted an elderly woman up the front walk. But the arrival of the couple set off a flurry of activity that Melanie would have done well to pay attention to.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Melanie tipped her face up and enjoyed the warmth of the sun as it shone down brightly, lighting the trees from above. The dark green leaves were fading and would soon take on their autumnal reds and yellows.

  No children played on the sidewalks and streets since school was back in session, and the luxuriant park grass was empty except for a busy squirrel who chattered madly when Melanie passed too near his cache of nuts.

  She took a path and followed it around through the underbrush, between the picnic sites and far beyond the playground. On and on she went, across the ball diamonds and past the pond where she sat staring into the still, reflective waters for a long time. Now and then a trout jumped to catch a mosquito, making her glance around the peaceful enclosure again.

  But no matter how hard she prayed, how diligently she stormed heaven’s doors, Faith’s words kept rolling around her brain.

  “You love him, Melanie. Give him a chance. Find out if this is a gift to you from God. You’ll be sorry if you deny yourself the love of a lifetime because you’re too stubborn to give in.”

  “Okay, Lord,” she whispered at last, rising to her feet and studying the bright, clear sky. “You’re in charge here. You direct events. I sent him away once and I don’t think he’ll be back, but that’s up to You. I’ll do my best to listen for Your direction. And if You give me another chance, I’m grabbing it with both hands.”

  Peace, calming and steady, flowed through her mind as she walked up the roadway from the lake. It wouldn’t be easy, but she would wait until God showed her the next step.

  Melanie reached the small grove of evergreens before she saw him. He was unmistakable, even in brand-new, immaculate jeans and a brilliant blue shirt. He was crouched in front of a pit, building a fire.

  “That’s the most pathetic fire I have ever seen,” she told Mitch truthfully, peering in at two fat logs that sat atop a piece of crumpled and barely smoking newspaper. “Weren’t you ever a Boy Scout?”

  “Melanie!” His face lit up, his eyes a bright blue, only to dim seconds later. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “Since I didn’t know I w
as coming myself, that would have been difficult to predict,” she admitted acerbically. “What are you doing here?”

  “But I thought—that is, they said…” His voice drifted away as he stood staring at her. Finally he shrugged. “That doesn’t matter, I guess. I want to talk to you, Melanie.”

  She was nervous and sort of frightened, and her palms were sweaty, but Melanie was determined none of that would deter her from hearing him out.

  Still, she needed to do something, so she bent and with a few swift strokes of his ax, built a pile of kindling. Pushing his nonburning creation to one side, she built a fire from a piece of his newspaper, added several tiny wood chips and then coaxed the flames upward with ever larger bits of wood. When it was blazing nicely, she pushed the big log on top, dusted off her hands and stood straight and tall before him.

  “Talk about what?” she asked calmly.

  “About you and me. Us. The future, Papa John, everything.” He frowned. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

  “Let’s just skip the compliments and get to the heart of the matter,” she muttered, annoyed. “I understand you told the peanut butter man to stuff his fifty thousand dollars. Fine. It’s done. What more is there to say?”

  “I had to,” he said simply. “It was getting in the way.”

  “In the way of what?”

  If the Lord was directing her down this path, Mitchel Stewart was going to have to spell it out good and clear, Melanie decided. She wasn’t taking any more chances.

  “In the way of us.” He moved to stand in front of her, his face pale in the bright afternoon sun. She noticed that the daredevil look had disappeared from his face. Mitch looked completely serious. And more vulnerable that she’d ever seen him.

  “I know I haven’t handled this very well. I never explained anything or gave you an acceptable basis for my actions,” he admitted softly. “But I had a good reason for it.”