by Arlene James
Laughter came easily to Piper, Mitch noticed, despite the deep well of dark emotion that he had glimpsed behind that pretty face earlier. A quick smile and an impish sense of humor were second nature to Piper Wynne, but they did not disguise her pain.
She was harboring some sort of secret; yet when her amber eyes lit with that personal sense of the absurd, Mitch couldn’t help smiling. Something in her spoke to him.
After dinner she insisted on helping his mother clean up. He could hear the women chatting as he rose to follow his father into the den. He’d have stayed were he was and eavesdropped on the conversation if he could have—not because he particularly wanted to know what they were talking about, but just to hear their voices. Listening to the two of them talking together made him feel peaceful and cozy.
Why had he waited so long to start looking for someone with whom to share his life?
Books by Arlene James
Love Inspired
*The Perfect Wedding #3
*An Old-Fashioned Love #9
*A Wife Worth Waiting For #14
*With Baby in Mind #21
The Heart’s Voice #261
To Heal a Heart #285
ARLENE JAMES
says, “Camp meetings, mission work and the church where my parents and grandparents were prominent members permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”
The author of over sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside of Dallas, Texas, with her husband. Arlene says, “The rewards of motherhood have indeed been extraordinary for me. Yet I’ve looked forward to this new stage of my life.” Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade!
TO HEAL A HEART
ARLENE JAMES
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for Thou art with me. Thou dost prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; Thou has anointed my head with oil; my cup overflows.
—Psalms 23:4–5
Dear Reader,
The Twenty-Third Psalm is a familiar passage of Scripture beloved by generations. Like many, I memorized that eloquent Old Testament chapter as a child but had difficulty relating to it. I couldn’t conceive of death, let alone the “valley of the shadow of death,” and I had no enemies. Even taken allegorically, neither term seemed applicable to anyone I knew. Thankfully, I reached adulthood before I came to a personal understanding of the concepts involved. When I got to that point, this Psalm (along with other precious Scriptures) helped me remember the sufficiency and intention of God’s love for us.
Some find the concept of a loving God who can and will allow tragedy into our lives for reasons that we cannot always comprehend to be an impossible contradiction, and yet every successful parent knows what strength, wisdom and love are required to allow a child to learn by suffering. Of course, we do everything in our power to minimize our children’s pain, but some very necessary lessons, like learning how to deal with loss, can only be accomplished via experience.
Thankfully God loves us enough, as Mitch and Piper’s story demonstrates, to supply our every need, and that includes joy. He wants the very best for us, and, remember, sweet is best when it follows sour. I hope I’ve given you a taste of each and that you always have more of the sweet!
God Bless,
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
The first day of September was shaping up to be one for the record books, Mitch thought wryly, jogging down the airport causeway, briefcase containing his laptop computer in one hand.
First he’d overslept, unaware that the electricity had been off for several hours during the night due to an industrial accident that had taken out a transformer. As a result, he’d missed the early flight to Houston. To make matters worse, in his haste he’d grabbed a pair of mismatched socks and hadn’t realized it until he’d looked down while retrieving a dropped pen during a witness deposition. The witness, a prim and proper middle-aged woman, had already been irritated because Mitch had shown up more than an hour late for their appointment. One look at his black-and-blue-sock combination and she’d become convinced that he was a “low-budget shyster,” to be exact, and had terminated the interview.
As if that weren’t bad enough, he’d been caught in one of Houston’s infamous traffic jams and was in danger of missing his return flight to Dallas. Thank God for cell phones and understanding shuttle bus drivers. They’d sped all the way from the rental car agency to the terminal, taking turns without an inch to spare and gunning through a yellow light along the way. The worst part was that he hadn’t gotten the information he needed to prevent his client from receiving a stiff sentence for what had essentially been a foolish prank.
Maybe God was trying to tell him something. It wasn’t the first time Mitch had thought about slowing down, maybe lightening his case load a little, but work had been his focus for so long now, he wasn’t sure what he’d be slowing down for. If he did manage to make the flight, maybe he could find time later that evening to think about some important personal issues, like his priorities and his future.
He rounded a column and jogged into the waiting area of Gate 27 just as the ticket agent was about to close the boarding-ramp door.
“Wait!”
The agent, a stocky Hispanic male, turned, smiled and inquired, “Mr. Sayer?”
Nodding, Mitch came to a stop and bent forward slightly, gasping, “Did I make it?”
“Barely,” he answered as Mitch set down his briefcase and batted back the side of his suit coat to fish his ID from the front pocket of his pants. “If you hadn’t called ahead, I’d have given away your seat and already released the plane.”
“Thanks for waiting,” Mitch said, lifting his briefcase from the floor.
The man checked his identification, nodded and stepped back. “Have a nice day.”
Mitch smiled and flipped his wallet closed, slipping past the barrier tape to the door beyond, briefcase in hand. He heard the ticket agent radio the flight attendant to reopen the hatch as he trotted down the enclosed ramp.
Just as Mitch rounded a sharp turn, he spotted a folded sheet of paper on the floor. Small and lined, it looked to be filled on both sides with handwriting. Thinking that someone who had boarded the plane before him might have dropped some important notes, he scooped up the paper. The hatch slid open just then, and an attractive brunette female flight attendant smiled at him.
“Find a seat quickly,” she instructed as he twisted past her. “We’ve got an immediate departure window.”
Mitch meant to hand her the sheet of paper he’d found, but she hurried away the instant the hatch was secured. Not wanting to hold things up a second longer, Mitch shrugged and slipped the paper into his suit coat pocket as he made his way down the narrow aisle between the seats. Spying an open place about halfway down, he made for it quickly.
The passenger in the aisle seat looked up as he neared. Warm amber eyes regarded him politely
. A small but plump mouth curved into a rosy smile. He noted the bright, healthy sheen of light coppery-blond hair smoothed neatly over her head and culminating in a long, thick braid that draped across one shoulder. He forgot all about the sheet of paper in his pocket.
“Excuse me,” he said, aware that his voice had deepened. “May I slip in?”
She tilted her pretty head, looking him over quickly. Her high, wide cheekbones, pert nose and slightly pointed chin gave her face a gamine appearance that he found utterly charming.
“It’ll be easier if I move over,” she said, releasing her safety belt.
She lifted the arm that separated the seats and slid to the center space, next to a gaunt adolescent girl too interested in her fashion magazine to notice much of anything else.
Mitch stuffed his briefcase into an overhead bin and dropped into the aisle seat just as the flight attendant approached to secure the storage locker. He reached for his safety belt as the plane began to creep backward from the bay. Mitch snapped his belt, and the attendant went on her way. Immediately he offered his hand to the pretty strawberry blonde, a little surprised at himself.
“Mitchell Sayer.”
She placed her small, cool hand in his. Her nails, he noticed, were short and bare of polish.
“Piper Wynne.”
“That’s an unusual name,” he heard himself saying, “but a lovely one.” It also seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn’t imagine why.
She laughed and took back her hand, which he realized only then that he’d held too long. “Thank you, and no, I wasn’t named after an airplane. It was a bird, actually.”
“I’m guessing that would be the sandpiper.”
She cocked her head. “Yes. How did you know?”
He folded his arms, not lamenting the close confines for once. “Seemed a logical conclusion.”
“You’re a birder then, are you?”
“No, not particularly, but I always read the nature magazines we get at the office.”
“Office,” she mused, tapping her chin with the tip of one forefinger. “And if you’re getting magazines by subscription, then you must have people waiting to see you. So what are you? Doctor, dentist…”
“Attorney,” he supplied.
“Ah.”
“And the magazines are usually for the people who sometimes accompany my clients. I have a thing about keeping people waiting.”
“A prompt attorney?” she quizzed with mock skepticism.
He laughed. “Evidence notwithstanding.”
She smiled and tugged at the hem of her moss-green straight knit skirt as she crossed her legs. A small woman with small feet and hands, the latter happily devoid of rings, she cut a trim figure in the knit top and tailored jacket that matched her skirt. Mitch looked away, a little embarrassed that he had noticed both her ring finger and her shape, but then he looked back again, too interested to let the connection drop.
“Tell me about this sandpiper association,” he said, settling back to listen.
She laughed and began relating her mother’s fascination with the quick, darting shorebirds that migrated yearly to the Far East. Again something tugged at his memory, some note of familiarity, but he was quite certain that he had never met the captivating Miss Piper Wynne. She was so captivating that only when the flight attendant returned to offer them a drink did Mitch even realize that they were in the air.
Piper waited several seconds for Mitchell Sayer to give the attendant his drink order, but she realized that he was waiting for her to do the same thing. Only after she had expressed a preference for water and the girl next to her had requested a diet cola did he ask the flight attendant for tomato juice, confiding offhandedly, “My mother’s a big believer in vitamin C.”
“Maybe you’d prefer orange juice,” the flight attendant suggested, but Mitchell shook his head.
“I would like some hot sauce or pepper, though.”
The attendant searched the cart for pepper packets even as she poured diet cola into a plastic cup of ice. Seat trays came down, tiny napkins were dispensed and the drinks were passed. Piper noticed that Mitchell didn’t so much as open a pepper packet until she and the girl next to her had tasted their drinks.
She smiled over the rim of her cup. He was a real gentleman and a very attractive one. Big and ruggedly handsome, with dark, slightly wavy hair and wide, deep blue eyes, he possessed an air of quiet confidence coupled with a boyish charm that eased into a quick, dimpled smile. Piper took the smile as a sign that her new life was getting off to a promising start.
Instantly her brother’s face flashed before her mind’s eye. Startled by the doubt that lanced through her, she gulped water and fixed her attention on the man at her side. Having stirred several packets of pepper into his tomato juice with a swizzle stick, he was sipping the bright red brew experimentally.
“How is it?” she asked.
He shrugged and said, “Too salty. I prefer to make my own, and lace it with hot sauce.”
“A purist,” she pronounced, smiling at him, “with a taste for spicy foods.”
He chuckled, his velvet-blue eyes crinkling at the edges. She wondered if he was married. He took another drink, then lifted his arm to check the time on his wristwatch. She noticed that he wore no wedding ring—so, it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little. Would it?
She didn’t for an instant think anything would come of this chance encounter, but it seemed an important omen somehow—not that she actually had doubts about this move. She was determined to enjoy every moment life had to offer from here on out. No more crisis management with roller-coaster emotions for her. She was finished with risk assessments and double shifts, second-guessing every move made in the heat of the moment and those soul-tearing life-and-death decisions. Especially the latter.
Exhaustion, guilt and heartbreak had all been left behind in Houston with the emergency-room nursing position that had engendered them. Piper was determined to find relief and happiness in Dallas, beginning now—and who knew? One day she might even meet a special man. Twenty-six certainly wasn’t too young to be thinking about marriage and family. Twisting in her seat, she pasted on a bright smile and caught herself literally fluttering her eyelashes.
“I bet your favorite food is Mexican,” she said.
“My favorite food is edible,” he quipped. Then he admitted, “I do love a good tamale, though…and blackened steak, Indian curry, Italian diavolo, Szechuan Chinese, anything spicy. My mother says that if you put enough peppers on old shoes, I’d eat them.”
Piper laughed, ignoring an underlying and all-too-familiar pang. Firmly she told herself that all the tears and grief and self-flagellation in the world would not change anything. Why not laugh? After all, she was just trying to follow her father’s advice. He was so fond of saying, “God expects His people to face life’s difficulties with smiles and cheer rather than tears and recrimination.” That’s all she was trying to do—find some smiles and cheer with which to face the rest of her life.
She forced herself to think of a clever rejoinder to the handsome attorney’s banter, and pretended that the world was a bright and sunny place. The warm smile and pithy remarks of the man beside her coaxed her to think she had made the right decision in pulling up stakes and starting a brand-new life. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself so much.
By the time the airplane touched down at Dallas Love Field, she was congratulating herself on the wisdom of this move. Everything was going to work out fine. It was just a pity that Mitchell Sayer would play such a small part in it all, but she didn’t fool herself that his interest was more than momentary. A handsome, successful man like him would never seriously pursue a confused, worn-out ex-nurse. Entertaining conversation was one thing; real life was something else, and that was all she was hoping for—something else. It couldn’t be worse than what she’d left behind.
Standing back to let a lady exit in front of him was as natural to Mitchell Sayer as breathi
ng. He didn’t think twice about stepping into the aisle and blocking the flow of traffic while Piper and their teenaged seat-mate slipped out into the narrow aisle and began making their way forward. The usual rush to deplane was in full swing by that time, of course, so those seated ahead of them naturally took advantage of the short pause to pop up and fall in behind the two females. Then, of course, the woman seated across the aisle from him must naturally be accorded the same civility as the other women in his immediate vicinity, and before he knew what was happening, half the people on the plane were between him and that bright, quickly receding head.
A momentary sense of loss seized him, but then reason returned, the product of a long-held and carefully nurtured faith. Without even thinking it, without the words forming in his mind, he reminded himself that God was in control of his life. What was truly his would return to him; what was vital to his well-being God would supply. Long ago Mitch had intentionally yielded his life and heart to a loving God. That did not mean, of course, that he didn’t hope Piper would be waiting for him when he reached the gate area.
He stepped into the busy airport expectantly, and when he did not immediately spot that shiny pale copper hair, he sidestepped the traffic and took a good look around. Piper Wynne was nowhere to be seen, and he felt a pronounced disappointment.
