To Heal a Heart. Arlene James

it was even before that,” he pointed out with a grin.

      “Right. On the way to Dallas, I should say.”

      Mitch nodded at Melissa and shook hands with Scott and Nate, who momentarily dammed the flow of his speech in order to acknowledge the newcomer. Mitch turned his smile right back to Piper.

      “So how have you been?”

      “Fine, thanks.” She glanced at Melissa and coyly added, “Fine but sore, since Melissa here has me hauling myself out at the crack of dawn every morning for laps around the block.”

      Mitch split a look between them. “Neither of you looks like you deserve that kind of punishment. Now me, if I don’t get in at least three miles a day, I start looking like something that came in with the circus, something with a trunk.”

      Piper laughed, but it was Scott who said, “Hey, man, you must do some weight training, too.”

      Mitch nodded. “About three times a week, schedule permitting.”

      “Weights, now that’s my deal,” Nate announced. “Back in high school I could bench…”

      Piper automatically tuned him out. Mitch listened politely for a moment, then he placed one big hand on the edge of the table and the other on the back of her chair as he bent forward, dipping slightly to bring his face close to hers.

      “Haven’t seen you around lately,” he said softly, and her heart skipped a beat at the notion that he had actually been looking for her. She reminded herself that the genie was already out of the bottle where he was concerned.

      “As I learn the ropes, they’re putting more on me at work,” she said. It was the absolute truth—and had nothing whatsoever to do with why she’d avoided returning to the downtown park. She hadn’t wanted to run into him, wouldn’t allow herself to be pulled back into the trap of other people’s expectations of Ransome and Charlotte Wynne’s daughter.

      “I hope I’ll see you again sometime,” Mitch told her, holding her gaze with his.

      She replied dryly, “Given our track record, it seems likely.”

      Mitch smiled at that. Then Scott burst out laughing at something Nate said, and Mitch straightened. He nodded around the table, smiled at Piper and said, “Enjoy your evening.”

      “Thanks. You, too,” Piper said as he moved away.

      She watched him make for the door and exit onto the sidewalk, alone. Interesting. When she turned back to the table, Nate was chattering on about some new subject. Scott’s expression of interest was beginning to look a little strained; Melissa’s, however, was rapt, but not for Nate. She lifted both eyebrows at Piper.

      Leaning forward, Piper said into her ear, “Just someone I met on the plane from Houston.”

      Melissa pursed her mouth speculatively, and Piper knew they were going to discuss Mitch Sayer in detail at the first opportunity. To her surprise, she was looking forward to it.

      Had he been a betting man, Mitch would have bet his bottom dollar that Piper would be in the park on Monday. He’d have been wrong. She wasn’t there on Monday or Tuesday or the day after that. On Thursday it rained—the kind of chill, gloomy rain that warned that winter was truly on its way. When Friday dawned bright with the warm, sweet sunshine that was Texas at its best, Mitch knew he had to get outdoors before it was too late. The rest of the city seemed to feel the same way—everyone but Piper Wynne.

      He had a long talk with God about that. If she were part of God’s plan for him, then Mitch wished heartily that it be made plain. If not, then he was in need of acceptance and maybe a little patience, not to mention the wisdom to recognize the woman God did have in store for him when she finally came along. Later he remembered one of his father’s favorite sayings: Acquiring patience requires patience. Everyone had it, Vernon liked to note, but none liked to exercise it. Mitch discovered that he was no exception.

      In the end, what salvaged the week for him were the replies that he got from the airline mailing. He made or received at least one phone call every day, but with no positive results other than a couple leads to follow—names of other passengers given him by the respondents. At least, he told himself, he was doing something positive. The rest was in God’s hands.

      On Sunday after church, when his parents suggested he accompany them to one of the remaining concerts of the season at the arboretum, he readily agreed. He preferred a concert to a day indoors in front of the television set.