The Missing Piece (Inspirational Love Story)

by Carol McCormick

  When he arrived, Lorraine casually walked from the side of the house. Dylan slammed the car into park, jumped out and yelled, “What's going on? Where's the fire?” And then it hit him that she was there. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, there's no fire. Misty climbed a tree and she can't get down. Poor thing.” Lorraine pointed toward the bare treetop.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack!” Dylan looked up to see Misty balancing on a tree branch, apparently having the time of her life as she dodged the fireman who was leaning off the ladder, swiping the air to catch her.

  “The men at the fire department said they quit retrieving cats from trees years ago, but after I told them who you worked for and where you went to church, they said they’d make an exception.”

  “Thanks, Doug,” Dylan said in mock gratitude.

  The two of them walked around to back in time to see the fireman descend the ladder with Misty in hand. “I'm sorry about the inconvenience, but I appreciate your help,” Dylan said while shaking the man’s free hand. The fireman transferred Misty to Lorraine.

  “I have a cat at home. I understand.” Then the fireman tipped his head in Dylan’s direction, and while shielding his mouth with his hand, he said, “and a wife.”

  Dylan and Lorraine waved the firemen off and strode into the house with Misty. “So did you come by to check on my cat?”

  Lorraine set Misty down. “No, as a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about last week. I’m sorry for leaving in such an angry state without even saying good-bye.” She walked to the cupboard, popped open a can, and scooped out a dollop of cat food. Squatting down, she let Misty lick directly from the spoon. “You naughty little puss. Don't you ever climb that tree again.”

  “Now I've seen everything. You're spoiling my cat.” He leaned against the doorway with his shoulder propped on the jamb and his arms folded across his chest. “So why did you take off?”

  “She deserves a little spoiling after her terrifying ordeal. Don't you, puss?” she said, ignoring the question.

  “Lorraine, why’d you leave?”

  Still squatting, she rubbed Misty's neck and stroked the length of her coat. Sighing as she stood, she faced Dylan with one hand on her hip. “For the same reason you did. I didn’t know how to deal with all the unpleasant emotions,” she said, dropping the spoon into the sink. “I had a big blowup with my parents because they didn’t tell me that you were in jail. They swore that they were ‘merely looking out for me and protecting me.’ They seem to forget that I’m a grown woman, but to tell you the truth, I’m scared. Scared that things will go back to the way they were when we were together.”

  Dylan pushed his shoulder from the doorjamb and took a step toward her. “There are no guarantees, Lorraine. All I can tell you is that I will never be the same person that I was back then.” He lightly touched the tip of her nose with his finger.

  “But how can you be so sure?” Her shoulders drooped and her arms fell to her sides.

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, then paced around her. “Do you remember learning to walk or talk?”

  Lorraine scowled while trying to follow his movements. “No.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Well, I’m glad we got that settled.” She crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Wait, I’m not finished. As we grew, we learned to walk and talk without even realizing or remembering the progress that we made. Yet, these are the things made us what we are today. Now, let me see if I get this straight. Correct me if I’m wrong, since you’re in the medical profession. Unless some outside tragedy comes into a person’s life like a stroke or some other illness or accident, a person cannot forget their ability to walk or talk, right?”

  “Well, right.”

  “Okay,” Dylan nodded. “Once you grow and learn something, you don’t naturally forget that thing—like riding a bicycle.” He snapped his fingers as though he’d finally thought of the perfect analogy. “I may fall down, but I’ll get back up. It’s not a permanent lifestyle, because I’m learning and growing stronger. And by the grace of God, as long as I stay close to Him, I’ll continue to walk upright. Do you see?”

  “Okay, I understand what you’re trying to say, but I’m still scared. Now will you stop circling me? You’re making me dizzy.”

  “Will you start seeing me? You’re making me crazy.” He stood directly in front of her, towering over her so that her eyes aligned with his shoulders, but when he glanced down, he could see that she was smiling.

  “Just once for now on a trial basis,” she said, wagging her finger at him on the way out the door. “Perk-O-Lates. Tonight. Six o’clock.”

  When Lorraine closed the door, Dylan pumped his arm and silently said, “Yessss! Thank you Lord.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Lorraine brushed a coat of Tangerine Frost across her fingernails then opened her bedroom door to look down the stairs.

  “What’re you getting all dolled up for?” Mr. Crawford asked when he walked by her room.

  “I have a date with Dylan. We’re going tobogganing.”

  She thought she heard her father growl, as he left a trail of cigar haze in his path. She fanned the air to clear the smoke and to dry her wet nail polish. She was glad things were going so well with Dylan. The one time trial date had turned into three mini-dates. Coffee and pie, church and lunch, a trip to the bookstore to browse and to buy, all light, all casual, no pressure.

  Lorraine glided down the stairs when the doorbell rang, and her father walked over to answer it. “Be nice, Daddy,” Lorraine said in a loud whisper as she slipped an arm into her puffy, down-filled parka, that looked more like a life preserver with sleeves.

  When the door opened, Dylan politely nodded and extended his hand, and said, “Mr. Crawford.”

  “Dylan,” Mr. Crawford grunted, as his hand fell from the knob, before he turned and walked away.

  “I brought a tin of imported sardines for you.” Dylan’s voice trailed after the gray-haired man. “I know how much you like them.”

  Mr. Crawford immediately stopped, slowly turned, and pinched the cigar nub from his mouth. “Let’s get something straight right now,” he said, pointing the smoldering tip at Dylan. “I don’t like you. Never did, so don’t try to buy me with your sentimental little gifts.”

  Dylan’s recoiled internally as though an invisible force had broadsided him. “I’ll just leave them on the table here. Would you please give this to Mrs. Crawford?” Dylan held out a pink rose surrounded by baby’s breath and fern, all poking out over the top of green tissue paper.

  Mr. Crawford put the cigar back in his mouth while puffing out smoke like a freight train. Squinting through the haze, he stood motionless staring at Dylan.

  Dylan moved closer to the locomotive.

  Lorraine eyed her father while shoving her foot into her boot. “Daaaddy,” she slowly chided as though she were the parent and he the child.

  The patriarch held his cigar clenched tightly between his teeth near ready to bite the soggy tip off. He reluctantly reached over, snatched the gifts, and then pounded into the kitchen.

  “Mom’s at the mall with Aunt Gracie,” Lorraine volunteered, while pulling on the other boot and then her gloves. “There! I feel like an Eskimo!” She stood and stretched her hands out in opposite directions.

  Dylan walked over to Lorraine and stood a matter of inches from her, as he reached down and slowly zipped her parka. Then, in a voice sultry enough to melt Alaska, he said, “You are the most beautiful Eskimo I’ve ever seen.”

  Certain she was blushing all the way to her woolen socks, she took a deep breath of cold air when they walked outside, hoping to regain her composure. Dylan opened Lorraine’s door, shut it, and then slid into his own seat.

  “This is a really nice car.” Lorraine touched the dashboard as Dylan shifted and pulled away from the curb.

  “So you’ve said,” he smil
ed. “It’s amazing the things that you can buy when your paycheck isn’t being wasted away.”

  Lorraine flipped the visor mirror down then took off her gloves. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic tube of lip gloss. She glided it across her lips and then smoothed it with the tip of her little finger. Then, still looking in the mirror, she said, “You didn’t come unglued at my father. You used to lose your temper when he talked to you that way.”

  “Prayer,” he said, half-smiling, “a lot of prayer before and during the encounter.”

  “He’s not so bad, you know. He’s just overprotective.” Lorraine reversed the lip application process by closing the top of the tube and putting the gloss back into her pocket.

  “I know.”

  “It was nice of you to get something for each of them.”

  “I brought the gifts for your parents, because the Bible says to ‘do good to those who hate you,’ or in this case—to them who hate me.” He smiled and then said, “I bought something for you too.”

  “You did? Why? I don’t hate you,” she teased.

  Dylan laughed. “I bought something for you because I love you.”

  Her heart kicked into double-time. “What is it?”

  He didn’t answer, but glanced in the rearview mirror and slowed the car to the side of the secluded road that they had been driving on. After he shifted into park, he reached behind the seat. “I was going to give this to you later.” He lifted a rectangular box over her head and set it on her lap. “But go ahead and open it now.”

  “Now?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Really?” She ran her hands across the embossed wrapping paper.

  “Yes, I said, go ahead.”

  Lorraine pulled the shiny bow off and broke the ribbons, as she clawed into the wrapping paper like a child on Christmas morning. She shook the box apart, lifted the tissue paper and her mouth gaped open as she shrieked, “Oh, my goodness, Dylan! This is gorgeous!” She carefully lifted the most stunning antique white dress that she’d ever seen from the box. “Did you pick this out yourself?”

  “Um-hum,” he hummed while one arm rested on the back of the seat.

  “The material is beautiful! It nearly shines! And the little pearl buttons are so feminine and delicate. Why, it almost looks like a wedding dress.” She hugged the dress to herself then paused. “Dylan...?”

  “A guy can hope, can’t he?”

  “Well, don’t get your hopes up too high. We’re still on a trial basis, remember?”

  “I remember everything about you.” Then, without moving from his place, he reached behind her head and pulled her over to him. She felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through her veins and pump straight to her heart. His lips were soft and gentle when he kissed her, and she felt like she was going to melt and seep right out through the floorboards.

  Then, just like that, he released her and sighed deeply. “We’d better get going.”

  She shimmied back to her side of the car and smoothed her hair down in to regain her composure.

  “You'll like Doug and his wife,” Dylan said. “Their cabin in Forestville has a huge hill out back where we're going tobogganing. It's a pretty steep, so you’d better hold on tight to me when we go flying down that hill.”

  She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye to see if he was serious or smiling.

  He was smiling.

  She pushed the buttons on the radio and found nothing to her liking, so she snapped it off and nonchalantly rested her hand on Dylan's knee. Then, tipping her head back against the seat, she sighed. “Look at the clouds. They look like mounds of whipped cream plopped in the sky.”

  Lorraine felt Dylan take her hand. He lifted it and kissed her palm then placed it on her lap. Warmth radiated up her neck as she realized the implication of the move, so she turned to the window to focus her thoughts on the snow-covered scenery. Dylan always had a way of unnerving her with his bold, yet boyish charm. Yet, that was one of the things that she loved about him. Even now, he was being so patient with her. He hadn't once tried to claim favors during the few times they’d been together. She felt feminine and safe with Dylan, and she found herself trusting him more each time they were together. He carried himself with a confidant, yet humble demeanor and he possessed an inner-strength that filled her with intrigue and awe.

  When they arrived at the cabin, Dylan parked the car and opened Lorraine's door for her. “Thank you,” she said, as she pulled on her gloves and stepped out into the snow. The air was so clear and crisp it almost cracked.

  “Smell the cold?”

  “Umm, pine trees and snow. It smells like Christmas,” she said.

  “Yup, just about a month away. I already have something for you.”

  “You do? What is it?” She clapped her gloved hands. “Give me a hint!”

  “Sorry, no can do.”

  Lorraine scooped up a handful of snow and shaped it into a threatening ball.

  “Go ahead, but I still won't tell.”

  Defeated, Lorraine tossed the snowball at Dylan.

  It grazed his coat and he laughed, “You’ve got to do better than that,” he teased.

  Instead of trying again, she squinted in the sun, and asked, “So, what do you want for Christmas?”

  He looked directly into her eyes, and said, “You.”

  And that was it. A matter-of-fact statement said without apology or inhibition, as the corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous grin. He asked for her and nothing more, just one bold wish that only she could grant. She was always at a loss for words when he spoke to her with such courage, only now he calls it speaking in faith. She wasn't sure what it was, but it sure shook her at times.

  As the sun reflected off the blanket of snow, the iridescent shine looked like crushed pearls dusted atop the landscape. Lorraine wanted to run through the white wonder to make tracks or snow angels like she did as a child. She wanted to toss handfuls of it up in the air and then catch the flakes on her tongue when they flurried to the earth. But instead, she decided to make a good impression by not frolicking about like a little snow nymph.

  Dripping icicles dangled from the cabin’s roof, as Doug stood in the doorway waving. “Hey, you two! Beautiful day for sledding, isn’t it?” Beth stood in back of her father, peeking out from behind his leg.

  “It sure is,” Dylan said. His boots squeaking down the shoveled path as Lorraine walked by his side.

  Linda appeared at the entrance of the door and Doug introduced her. “Lorraine, this is my wife Linda and our daughter Beth.”

  They waved and Lorraine waved back, while exchanging hellos.

  “Are you ready for a rrrraaring good time?” Doug asked, clapping his hands once then rubbing them together.

  “I haven’t been sledding in years. It should be fun.” Lorraine shielded her eyes from the sun when she spoke.

  The men walked to the storage shed then pulled out the toboggans and then positioned them at the top of the hill. Doug and Linda straddled their legs to accommodate Beth’s small frame before they made the huge decent. Linda’s scream overpowered Beth’s squeal halfway down the hill.

  When Lorraine stepped onto the sled, she slipped and slid and tangled around like a lone player in a game of Twister. With one foot on and one foot off and both hands splayed in the snow, Dylan sat down first, then grabbed Lorraine’s waist and pulled her down in front of him to sit between his legs.

  “Ready?”

  “I think so. Go!” And down they went. The blizzard of snow flew up in all directions as the slopes made for whiplash producing speeds. Lorraine let out a laughing shriek that echoed down the hill and possibly woke a coyote or two, or sent them into a howling fit.

  But Dylan didn’t care. With his arms wrapped around Lorraine, he felt like a pup with its head hanging out the car window and its tongue flapping in the breeze. He wanted to howl!

  After the tenth time up and down the hill with blasts of Arctic air bit
ing her cheeks, Lorraine bent over and braced her hands on her knees, panting. “I’m getting really cold and tired,” she said, catching her breath. “My feet feel like blocks of ice. I don’t think I can walk up this hill again.” She pouted at Dylan. “Will you give me a ride?”

  He stopped and nodded toward the sled. “Get on.”

  “I was only joking. I’d be too heavy!”

  “I’m not joking. Get on.”

  Dylan held Lorraine’s hand when she sat down, and once she was seated, she watched him huff and puff his way up to the crest of the hill with his boots crunching in the snow.

  “It’s a good thing I quit smoking, otherwise you’d be hauling me back on this thing.”

  Lorraine smiled and held onto the toboggan, as Dylan tromped up the snowy mound. Watching him strain to reach the top of the slope filled her heart with admiration. He possessed a newfound inner strength and determination, and pulling the sled seemed symbolic of his new life as he trudged ever upward in his Christian walk. He had overcome so many things these past few months, so instead of being crushed by the weight of his past, he’d used it as a steppingstone to rise higher and to better himself instead. The upward spiritual ascent merely strengthened him to clear the next hurdle in his path.

  When they finally reached the top of the hill, Lorraine waited nearby as the men put the sleds away. Linda had already taken Beth inside with promises of hot chocolate and an extra log on the fire, so after returning from the shed, Dylan took Lorraine’s hand and they walked to the cabin.

  Once inside, they stamped their feet, leaving snow waffles in the entryway, before removing their boots. The smell of cinnamon and spice potpourri filled the air, while a braided oval rug welcomed them into the rustic living room. And as Linda had promised, the crackling fire proved warm and inviting.

  “Let’s thaw out by the fire.” Dylan rubbed his hands together before hanging their coats on a peg near the door. When they sat on the loveseat near the fireplace, Dylan said, “You look like you’ve been kissed by Jack Frost. I’m jealous.”