A Hopeful Heart and A Home, a Heart, A Husband. Lois Richer

the hair that just touched his collar as she moved slowly with him. Her touch bothered him, sending electric currents through his blood.

      “Melanie?”

      “She’s waited so long. She’d almost let herself forget him. Did you know Hope has gone out with your grandfather a few times?”

      Mitch jerked backward, staring at her in surprise. Suddenly, the little scene at Charity’s made sense.

      “You mean she’s falling in love with him?” He frowned.

      “I don’t know, but something was happening between them. She was finally beginning to let go of the past and consider the future.” Melanie heaved a sigh. “And now this.”

      “Makes you wonder who’s in control of the universe, doesn’t it?” he laughed.

      “Oh, I know that God’s in control,” she told him seriously. “And whatever He has planned is more wonderful than anything we could ever imagine. It’s just hard to understand right now.”

      “I never thought of God as personally interested in our lives,” Mitch murmured. “I always think of Him as some far-off entity. In heaven, I guess.” He shrugged.

      Melanie smiled knowingly. “Well, I’m certain He’s there, but He’s also here with us, guiding us through our daily lives. I just have to keep praying that Hope won’t be too badly hurt by all this.”

      She snuggled her head against his shoulder, and Mitch stared at the stars. Melanie Stewart made him think of all those things he wanted but could never have. Things like a wife, a home of his own, a family. Things he had no business dreaming about.

      Pulling her a little closer, he guided her carefully across the patio as the music died away. His left hand settled on her waist, and he tortured himself with the dream of someday holding someone who was special to him in just this way. In his ear there was a soft whisper.

      “What?” he asked, missing the soft words.

      “You move that hand any lower and you are in trouble.”

      Privately, Mitch thought he was in trouble anyway, but he decided to change strategies. His mouth touched hers softly in a whisper of a kiss that was over before it began. When she kissed him back, he followed the curve of her jaw with a tiny, feather-light brush of his mouth. His nose nuzzled the sensitive spot under one ear. That brought a tiny sigh from her. Then she edged away, pressing her palms gently against his chest.

      “Thank you for a very nice evening.” Her soft voice was primly correct, and he almost burst out laughing.

      Nice? Talk about a nonresponse.

      “You’re more than welcome. And thank you for coming to dinner.” He grinned at her, unabashed at the color flooding her face.

      Bending, he pressed a kiss to her soft, pink mouth and one on a tiny freckle just below her eye. Then he whispered in her ear, “I enjoyed it. All of it.”

      When her face colored again, he grinned smugly. “You do blush a lot,” he teased her. Then, lest he hurt her feelings, he told her the truth. “I like it on you.”

      They walked to the door side by side, saying nothing, both feeling the tension of the moment. At the door Mitch took her oval face in his hands and rubbed his thumb along her lips.

      “Can we share dinner again?”

      Waves of feeling swamped her, and Melanie was unable to think straight. A noncommittal answer, that was the best.

      “Maybe,” she temporized, unsure of anything but her surging heartbeat. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford it if I don’t win that contest. You eat a lot.”

      He grinned. “Save your allowance then, because I’m going to hold you to it,” he promised. Mitch pressed one last kiss to her mouth. Then, sighing, he dragged himself away.

      “Good night,” he whispered, and pulled the door closed behind his tall figure.

      “Good night,” Melanie answered to no one at all. One slim hand touched her lips in wonder.

      In a trance she moved through her nightly rituals, half dazed. Mitchel Stewart didn’t seem nearly as irritating as he had two weeks ago. Nor as angry.

      What Melanie recalled was the way his bad-boy looks had made her heart thump. And the black lock of hair that tumbled across his forehead. And his lazy blue eyes with their hidden flames. And the soft, caring touch of his hands.

      Yawning widely, Melanie plumped her pillow and promptly fell asleep dreaming of Mitchel Stewart.

      “You think this fellow is this Jean guy? The same one that Hope Langford was engaged to?” Mitch stared at his grandfather in dismay.

      “Not only do I think he is the one, I’m pretty sure he plans to marry someone else. I’ve had someone looking into things for me. On the Q. T. of course.” Harry Conroy rubbed his hand wearily across his stubbled cheek. “I’m stumped, laddie. I dursn’t tell Hope about this. She’s got her heart set on a reunion, and if this guy is what he seems, that isn’t going to happen.”

      “What’s his name?” Mitch asked curiously, flipping through the reports covering his grandfather’s desk. “And where’s he been for the past thirty years? Why didn’t he let her know he was alive so she could move on?”

      “I don’t know, son. Those are all good questions that I’d like to ask the man myself. You don’t go abandoning a woman like Hope without a darned good reason. Leave those papers be!” Harry sounded furious, and Mitch studied him with new eyes.

      “You’re pretty fond of Miss Langford, aren’t you, Gramps?” he asked quietly.

      “Fond of her? I’ve spent longer than I care to think about trying to get close to the woman. But she has this barrier she always puts up. Won’t let people get too close. Leastways, not me.” He frowned.

      Harry Conroy peered at his grandson. Over the years he’d gained a pretty good knowledge of human nature, and he used it to good advantage now.

      “I think you’re interested in Charity’s daughter, too. Aren’t you, boy?” The faded gray eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge. “I was afraid it would never happen,” he declared happily.

      “It hasn’t,” Mitch assured him quietly. “I’m not looking to get married, Gramps. You know that. Neither is she. Sure, I like Melanie. She’s sharp and witty.”

      “Not too hard to look at, either,” his grandfather added.

      “No, she isn’t,” Mitch agreed with a grin. “But she’s dedicated to her career as much as I am to mine.”

      Harry snorted. “Hogwash,” he bellowed with disgust. “You’re still thinking about your parents, aren’t you, Mitch?” He shook his head. “Those two didn’t have a marriage, they had a battle zone. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work, boy.”

      “From what I saw at Mercer, Lloyd and Jones, that’s the way it usually works,” Mitch told him soberly.

      “I knew you didn’t like Chicago, Mitch, but I always thought you liked your work.”

      “I hated my work there,” Mitch said hoarsely. “Bottom man on the pole wasn’t the problem. I had to take whatever they assigned, and it was always family court.” He shuddered at the memory. “I still see the looks in the kids’ eyes, Gramps. So tired. And scared.”

      “Well, I’m proud of you for getting yourself out of there, son.” Harry wiped a tear away. “It’s a sad thing to see a family torn apart, that’s for sure. But it doesn’t have to happen to you. All marriages aren’t bad. Your gran and I shared some pretty happy years.” Harry stared across his desk, his eyes focused on some memory Mitch couldn’t share.

      “You never knew her, Mitch, but she was the kindest, gentlest woman God ever created.”