To Heal a Heart. Arlene James

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 breathing. 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.

      He had seen his last of that gamine smile and those mysterious amber eyes, behind which he had sensed deep wells of emotion. They had not even said goodbye. Well, at the very least she had given him a wakeup call.

      Since the death of his wife, Anne, Mitch had wondered if God meant him to live the rest of his life alone. His parents and his friends all said not, that if ever a man were meant to be a husband and father, it was him. Eventually, and for some time, he had actively dated—a lot. Yet as the years had passed, he’d begun to wonder. His work was important, requiring great dedication and much time, and his personal ministry brought him untold satisfaction and fulfillment. Perhaps that should be enough.

      For a long time it had been enough, but lately something had changed. He’d started wondering if he hadn’t filled his life with work instead of people. Now he knew of one bright young lady for whom he’d like to find a place in his life.

      Just how had that happened?

      He’d spent not quite three-quarters of an hour with a sunny, fetching woman, and suddenly the part of his heart that had been dormant was awakened. A need that he had believed dead suddenly lived and breathed inside him. And why not? He was only thirty-eight as of August 11 just past. He was still young enough to find love, marry and start a family, and he realized suddenly that he still wanted to do that, wanted all, in fact, that manhood could afford him—things he hadn’t felt able to face in a long time.

      A sense of quiet wonder rose inside him. He had trusted God to set the course of his life, and the journey obviously still had some surprising twists and turns ahead. Maybe Miss Piper Wynne was not a part of it, but she was certainly a signpost on the path that he might take, and a very pretty signpost at that. He smiled to himself, adjusted his grip on the handle of his briefcase and set off, content to let God unfold the pathway as He would.

      Ten minutes later he slid behind the wheel of his luxury sedan and glanced at the time readout in the dashboard. He still had time to change into jeans before arriving at his parents’ house for dinner. As he drove through the city to his University Park home, he thought about how invigorated and hopeful he suddenly felt, as if God had tapped him on the shoulder and whispered a delightful secret in his ear.

      He left the car in the drive and let himself into the house through the front door. Walking straight past the seldom-used living room, he went through the open French doors into the study and punched the button on the answering machine on a corner of the cluttered desk. He turned up the volume so he could listen to his messages as he changed clothes in the next room.

      As he was unbuttoning his shirt, the rustle of paper in the front pocket of his coat reminded him again of the notes he had found. He hoped they weren’t important, because it was too late now to do anything about returning the sheet to its owner. Might as well just toss it. Before he could follow that thought with action, however, the answering machine beeped and the familiar voice of a local assistant district attorney reached his ears. The woman whom Mitch had gone to Houston to interview had called the D.A.’s office. She’d remembered something after he’d left, and while he’d been fighting traffic she’d called the district attorney with the information.

      Mitch tossed aside the jacket and rushed back into the study to take notes. He wasn’t surprised that she had called the D.A. instead of him. Most witnesses considered the district attorney to be an ally and the defense attorney an unprincipled enemy out to free criminals to pillage and plunder at will. Few realized that all exculpatory evidence must be shared, by law, with the defense. Few stopped to consider who might champion their cause if they should find themselves facing unexpected criminal charges.

      By the time Mitch had the details on paper, he was elated to think that his client, a teenager, would be spared the horrors of prison. Mitch didn’t delude himself that the young man was blameless, but the mitigating factors that had come to light had induced the district attorney to offer probation and a fine. Eager to tell the boy’s parents, he made a phone call. They were relieved, but still laboring under the disappointment of their son’s poor judgment and its results. Mitch figured that the kid would think twice before he pulled another “prank” that could end in injury to an innocent third party.

      Eager to see his own parents, Mitch hurriedly popped out the tape, locked it in a fireproof file cabinet until it could be formally transcribed and finished changing his clothes. All the while, he kept thinking that God had definitely moved this day in awesome and definite ways.

      Marian Sayer pressed her hands together in a typical expression of delight, her elbows braced against the dark wood of the kitchen table, where the family had dined. Though retired from the classroom for several years now, she had never lost her “teacher” mannerisms, the slightly exaggerated gestures and articulations that so easily captivated the attention of children.

      “Why, that’s wonderful, Mitchell!” she was saying. “What a lovely ending to a difficult day. I’m happy for your client.”

      Vernon nodded sagely. “Sometimes God lets us think we’ve blown it just so He can remind us that we’re not the ones in charge.”

      “Don’t I know it,” Mitch said, grinning again.

      “Your cases don’t usually put that sparkle in your eye, though,” Vernon noted astutely.

      Mitch felt his grin grow even wider. His father knew him too well. “Let’s just say that I had another ‘interview’ of sorts today, and it let me know that I’m ready to make some changes in my life.”

      “How so?” his mother asked expectantly.

      He shrugged, trying to keep the conversation casual as he related how he’d met Piper Wynne.

      “What did you say her name is?” his mother asked after he’d told as much as he intended to.

      “Her name’s Piper Wynne,” he answered, taking a sip of iced tea so as to savor the taste on his tongue. “But that’s not important, Mom. I’ll probably never see her again. The point is, I realized today how very much I want to have someone in my life again. I think God’s been trying to tell me for some time that it is a possibility.”

      Vernon Sayer removed the stem of his unlit pipe from his mouth. Typically, removal of the pipe weighted whatever words followed with significance. His father hadn’t actually smoked that pipe in years, but he often sucked on it just as if he did. It was part of his dignified lawyer persona, and it had stayed with him even after retirement and the doctor had made him understand how harmful tobacco was to his