by Lois Richer
Melanie watched with pity and sadness as disgust and loathing distorted Sara’s face.
“It was her sixth marriage, and although she seemed to have finally found happiness, Mitch couldn’t adjust. He and his stepfather argued continually. The guy was pretty straight and very tough, insisting that Mitch tow the mark one hundred percent. Mitch’s mother sided with her husband. When she wasn’t strung out on tranquilizers or booze, that is.”
Melanie put her hand on Sara’s shoulder in consolation. It was obvious that Sara had felt Mitch’s pain deeply. Still did.
“I suppose you knew that’s why he doesn’t drink?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she watched Melanie. “Mitch always said his mother did enough for both of them, and he won’t touch the stuff. He won’t even take an aspirin without being in severe pain.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t notice,” Melanie told her. “All I have seen is this cold, hard side of him that he’s convinced can’t be changed. If you push too hard, he shuts you out.”
“Yes, that’s exactly how he’s always survived,” Sara told her, a wistful smile on her face. “I guess it’s better than not surviving at all,” she added. “Fortunately, Mitch excelled at school, so his mother decided to send him to boarding school. Paid for by his stepfather. His mother was pregnant and sobering up by then, and they wanted him out of the way while she dealt with her problems.” Sara’s face was grim.
“You couldn’t blame them for that. The woman needed help. But pretty soon a pattern began to develop. Every time he returned for holidays or school breaks, there was a child around whom his mother and stepfather doted on, and no place for him—or at least Mitch didn’t think so. Eventually he didn’t even try to fit in. He wasn’t so hardheaded then, though.” Sara’s voice died away.
“That happened when Samantha Jones arrived.”
Melanie thought back on the few statements Mitch had made about himself. She didn’t remember anyone named Jones.
“Who?” Melanie tried to keep her curiosity under control.
“She was someone he fell for in law school. And he fell hard. Samantha had him wound around her little finger.” Sara’s voice was filled with disgust. “Anything Sammy wanted, Sammy got. Mitch had to hold down two jobs just to get himself through law school, never mind provide the little baubles she constantly demanded. And don’t forget he was studying all hours, as well.”
“I imagine it must have been difficult,” Melanie said sympathetically.
“Difficult? It was darn near impossible. But he did it—until Samantha got him cutting back on his study time.” Sara’s eyes glittered angrily. “Poor little rich girl needed a date to Daddy’s dinners!”
“Oh.” Melanie cringed at Sara’s sarcasm. “But couldn’t he have refused?” she asked curiously.
“He did, at first. But Samantha wasn’t giving up. And little by little, she took over his life. He was so totally besotted, Mitch never knew what hit him until he got his marks. He flunked the year.” Sara moved to pour a glass of water. She drank slowly, her eyes deep pools of bitterness.
“Well?” Melanie demanded, finally getting an insight into what made Mitchel Stewart tick. “Go on.”
“Mitch knew it was make-or-break time. No way was he going back to his stepfather. And by then his grandfather was encouraging him to buckle down. Mitch got his professors to agree to let him repeat the year, but he lost the funding that paid for his tuition.”
“But couldn’t Samantha help with that?” Melanie asked curiously. “Make him a loan or something?”
Sara snorted. “She had a new boy toy by then, Melanie. She had never been interested in Mitch other than his abilities as an escort to parties or showing her off on the dance floor. He was a hunk who could ferry her around. He wouldn’t stay at her wild parties, so she dropped him. She finally told him to his face exactly how little she thought of him.” Sara shook her head sadly.
“But for Mitch, it was the final straw,” she explained. “He had tried for years to be the son his mother wanted and never quite made the grade. Now a woman he thought really cared for him, someone he had based his future on, wanted him to be something he wasn’t. When he wouldn’t even pretend to do as she asked, Sammy turned her back on him.” Sara’s voice overflowed with disgust.
“In fact, she left him for his best friend. And Mitch was left to pull his life together. Alone.” Sara wrapped her arms around herself as her big eyes fixed on Melanie.
“Well, he pulled out of it, passed the bar and went into practice. I was there the day he got his degree. He told me he was finished trying to find love. He cut himself off from his mother and stepfather, got his own life and never talked to any of them—except his grandfather, as far as I know.”
“You mean his parents are still married?” Melanie asked curiously, caught up in the story of such a sad family.
“Oh, yes. His mother finally found a man she loved. Unfortunately, she lost her son.” Her eyes were sad with regret.
“But Mitch…” Sara shook her head. “He’s convinced himself that he can be totally enclosed. Because he lost the ability to trust his own feelings, he will not believe in anyone else’s. He’s frozen that side of his life. Now he doesn’t make any commitments.” She shook her head. “And so he is never disappointed.”
Sara rubbed her tears away.
“I have got to get going. I’m going to buy a house here, and as soon as I do, the kids are coming. We’re supposed to put the down payment on one I really like today and then we can move some stuff in. Mitch said he could help. See you later.” Sara drummed her fingers on Mitch’s door. “Come on, bro. You’ve got a heap of lifting to do today.”
They left shortly after that, insulting each other with good-natured gibes.
Melanie sat on the hard kitchen stool and contemplated the little boy who had never received the affection he craved. Was all that male macho and freewheeling debonairness just a facade? She remembered his remarks about trust and knowing who you were and she cried for that needy child and the man he’d become. She could still hear his pain.
“You were lucky,” he had said about her mother and the adoption. “Some kids never get to experience any of that.”
Kids like him, she thought sadly. Kids who needed a hug so badly they ached. Bitterness welled within her at the childhood of pain that still clung to him.
Suddenly, the anger and frustration Melanie felt toward Mitch mellowed as she perceived his attitudes through a different light. Trust would come hard. And loving? Well, that would be very difficult. If it ever happened.
She knew there was something between them. It was there when he had wrapped his big arms around her last night. His kiss had not been cold and calculated. Instead he had touched her with sensitivity, gently nullifying all the inhibitions she had so carefully held. And he had asked for as much as he gave. Somewhere under that immaculate facade was a man who had a lot to give the world, if he would only let go. Then, later, he had asked for her trust.
Well, then, she would trust him, Melanie decided. She would explore the building relationship between them as far as he would let her. And if the time came when he no longer wanted her around, well, Melanie would deal with that, too.
Finally, she acknowledged what she had known for days.
She loved him.
And the emotion scared her to death. He’d been hurt, badly. And she had no experience in dealing with men like him. It had always been she who had been in control in the relationship. Now, suddenly, there was no control. Melanie felt as if her life was in free fall.
It was hopeless. It was wonderful. It was crazy. And Melanie had no idea how to act. She was living with a man who refused to discuss his past. They shared his apartment, rubbed shoulders daily. And they waited for prize money he would help her acquire. Meanwhile, he aided a stepsister who needed his help.
Melanie was convinced that Mitch had fooled himself. He was a man who had a lot of love to give, he just didn’t know how. Some
how he needed to see that.
“Oh, there you are, dear. Had a good day?” Hope scurried in the door, her usual immaculate, efficient self. She was carrying several shopping bags but didn’t offer to show the contents.
“Interesting,” Melanie replied, with an astute glance at the parcels. “And you? I heard you were at Sunset today.” She watched for a reaction and was rewarded when Hope’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh, well, yes. The girls and I decided to go visiting.”
“Did you? How nice. How long did you have Nettie out for?” she asked solicitously.
“Oh, well, you know how these tea things go. A couple of hours.” Hope’s normally pale skin was suffused with color.
“I see. Did you go in your car?”
“Oh, dear me, no,” Hope said. “That is, we didn’t need to. Papa John was there, and he took us all for a ride in his limousine. We went to the malt shop.”
Melanie stared, her brain striving to assimilate the unlikely picture of the four older women and a silver haired, pot-bellied man daring to breach the sanctity of the teenagers’ local haunt.
“Papa John was at Sunset?” Melanie frowned. “I never heard a word.”
“Oh, my dear, he’s been visiting Nettie for simply ages. They’re quite good friends, you know. And he’s ever so kind and gentle with her. Nettie speaks so freely when she’s with him.”
“But doesn’t that bother you? I mean, Mitch told me he might be your Jean.”
Hope shook her head. “Oh, he’s not my Jean,” she said softly. “I think my Jean died a long time ago. Papa John doesn’t have Jean’s French accent and doesn’t express himself the same way at all.”
“So you don’t think…” Melanie hated to say the words.
“Do I still think he bears a resemblance to Jean?” Hope murmured thoughtfully. “Oh, he definitely does. But that’s not exactly what I meant. You see—” She fiddled with a strand of hair. “Jean was that special person in my life all those years ago. We shared our hopes and dreams and there was nothing we didn’t discuss.”
“And Papa John isn’t like that?” Melanie tried to understand.
“Yes, he’s like that all the time. But with Nettie. He really cares for her. And whatever he may or may not have once felt for me, I wouldn’t dream of destroying the happiness they seem to have found.” Hope looked up, tears rimming her eyes.
“Whatever Jean and I might once have had is past and buried. It hurts something fierce to say that, but it’s true. I’m just beginning to realize that all these years I’ve been waiting for a fairy tale that couldn’t possibly come true.” She wiped away the tears with her hand in a most indelicate fashion.
“Maybe it could come true,” Melanie persisted. “Maybe if he could just remember that you and he were once engaged…”
“Oh, you mustn’t encourage that, dear. It would only make him feel sorry for me, obligated somehow. And he’s not. Not anymore. No one is. All these years everyone has been so sympathetic.” She glanced at the ring on her right hand thoughtfully.
“No, my Jean is gone, and I think it’s time I removed this and started living in the present. That’s what Papa John had to do when he returned from the war. He didn’t have a past. And maybe that’s for the best. Sometimes people get bogged down in the past.
“Don’t you think the same might be true for you?” the older woman murmured.
“I, uh, don’t know what you mean,” Melanie insisted. “I’m not dreaming any fairy tales.”
Hope shook her head regretfully. Her voice was very gentle when she spoke. “Oh, Melanie, do you really think I don’t remember how much you wanted a family? Why, you always used to dream up games about happy families with fathers and mothers and perfect children.” She wiped away a tear. “Your mother, Faith and I used to pray that you would find your dream someday.” She fixed Melanie with a stern glance that reminded Melanie of days spent in her class.
“Don’t you think perhaps that time has come? With Mitch?”
“You mean you think I should ask him to marry me?” Melanie tried to fob off the question with a laugh. “He’s told me numerous times that he’s not the marrying type, Hope. And, truth to tell, I’m not sure I am, either. At least not to someone like him.”
“What’s wrong with him? He’s as handsome as a movie star, established in his law practice. He’s even trying to help you get half that prize money, although I confess I wish that aspect would disappear.” She chuckled. “A real prince, I’d say.”
“Maybe.” Shrugging, Melanie got up to fill her coffee cup. “But he’s also got a lot of baggage from the past.”
“We all carry baggage from the past, Melanie. Some of us just hang on to it longer than others.”
“Maybe,” she said again. “But even though he is handsome, Hope, I still don’t think Mitch is the type of man I need.” Melanie wanted to nip this particular matchmaking idea in the bud.
“I want someone who is solid and dependable. I have enough bad history to deal with. Those kids I used to dream about…” She paused, staring at the light fixture. “The truth is, they’re a long way from my own childhood reality. I wouldn’t know how to raise a child. Not properly. I have no history to draw on. And I won’t be responsible for wrecking a child’s life.”
Hope’s soft, smooth hand covered hers and squeezed gently.
“I’m no expert, of course,” she murmured. “But I’ve watched children and their families for years. And my conclusion is that nobody knows exactly the right way to raise a child. And every child is different from every other child, so there is no magic formula.”
“But that’s precisely what—”
“God gave us this as a plan,” Hope told her seriously, picking up her Bible from a nearby table. “The only formula we have is to ask for God’s help, search His word and then apply some good common sense.” She spread her hands wide. “And that’s it. Except for loving them, of course. And that’s usually not too hard for a new mother.”
“Maybe,” Melanie murmured doubtfully. “But it seems awfully risky to embark on such a thing with a person you barely know.”
“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith,” Hope told her sternly. “And it’s not really so frightening if you have God behind you, is it?”
“It’s very frightening! How can I know that something is God’s will and not just my own wants or needs?”
“You ask Him,” Hope told her simply. “And then when He opens a way, you take it. Slowly. And trust that He will direct your footsteps through life.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “I have to get going. I told your mother I’d have dinner with her.” She patted Melanie’s hand. “Think about it, Melanie. And pray for His will to guide you. God gives us desires for a reason and He wants to fill those secret wanting places more than we can imagine.” Hope tugged on a sweater and moved toward the door.
“Don’t waste the present, my dear. Trust me, it’s not worth the pain when you find that life has moved on and left you standing alone in your ivory castle, waiting for some fantasy while the real thing walks right past.”
Melanie sat for a long time, considering Hope’s words. They whirled around her brain until she couldn’t make sense of them anymore. Wearily, she set about making supper for Mitch, his sister and herself.
“Is he the one, Lord?” she asked. “But we’re so different!” She closed her eyes. “I’m scared, Lord. Scared of getting hurt so badly that I won’t be able to pick up the pieces. Please help me to know the right way.”
Chapter Nine
“Well, girls, I have some news for you.” Hope’s voice was brimming with excitement as she burst through the door at Charity’s cozy home. She glanced from Faith to Charity and sank into a nearby chair. “You two have been my dearest friends for so long now, I wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Go on, then, tell us.” Faith beamed, green eyes wide with excitement. “I just love surprises!”
“Yes, dear. Share it with u
s.”
“I’m getting married!” Charity lost three stitches when her knitting needles fell to the floor, and Faith’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gulping for air.
“Then it is Jean. I knew he’d come back.” Into the shocked stillness, Faith’s voice rang with joy. “Praise the Lord!”
“I don’t know that Jean has come back, Faith, but I am going to marry Harry. In three weeks.”
“Harry Conroy?” Charity squeaked, her brown eyes huge.
“Of course, Harry Conroy,” Hope told her, frowning. “He’s been asking me for years. Why are you surprised?”
“Because he’s been asking you for years. What’s suddenly changed that makes Harry so acceptable as a husband now and not ten years ago?” Charity’s expression was full of suspicion. “It’s not because you’re afraid this Papa John fellow is getting really fond of Nettie Rivers, is it? Hope, are you afraid you’ll be left out?”
“Of course not! Charity Flowerday, have you ever known me to act so foolishly?” Hope murmured in disgust.
“I have,” Faith said, smiling with a delight. “Remember, it was when we had that new preacher. The one before Pastor Dave. He was so interested in you, Hope, making all those lovey-dovey eyes. And you wouldn’t even give him the time of day.” She twiddled her finger at Hope’s reddening face. “He was so handsome—a real hunk.”
“Faith! Wherever did you learn such disgusting terminology?” Hope asked indignantly. “And for your information, I had no desire whatsoever to become a minister’s wife. I’m too outspoken for that. Besides,” she mumbled, wringing her hands in exasperation, “he ate far too many sweets.”
“So does Harry,” Charity reminded her friend with a knowing smile.
“Well, it’s just different, that’s all,” Hope told them with a shrug. “Harry’s been my friend for so long, he feels warm and kind. He doesn’t care about my little foibles.”
“Just like my Arthur,” Faith crowed proudly. She swept Hope into a tight, suffocating hug that wrinkled her best blouse. “I’m so happy for you, dear. Can I help with the wedding?”