~ ~ ~
I watched as Lindsay arrived at the Kindness Animal Clinic. I knew exactly what she would do, and she didn’t disappoint me. She whizzed through the front door and went straight back to Matthew’s office.
“Is it okay if I put this poster on the reception room bulletin board?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered. It was hard for him to hold back a smile, but he didn’t want to let her know that Eleanor had already told him about the dog. When he asked to see the poster I noticed how his hand lingered on Lindsay’s.
She noticed it too.
Once the poster was in his hands, Matthew could see this wasn’t just a sketch and it wasn’t a stock photo. It was a real dog, a specific dog. A dog he could easily imagine had something to say. He began to wonder if Eleanor had somehow left out a part of the story.
“Why are you looking for this particular dog?” he asked.
“I think this dog is looking for me.”
“Looking for you?”
“Yes. The first time I saw this dog it was on a rescue site and…” Lindsay told the story of how the picture of the dog kept popping up on her computer.
Matthew’s eyes were locked onto hers as she spoke. Her words held such passion, such conviction. He was a practical man and even though he had a great love of animals, he normally would have scoffed at the preposterous tale of a disappearing and reappearing dog, but oddly enough as Lindsay spoke he came to believe her story.
~ ~ ~
I told you, love makes believers of everyone. Yes, even me. With all the tragic love affairs I’ve witnessed, you might think by now I’d be disenchanted, but no. I’m the biggest believer of all.
~ ~ ~
“Go ahead and put the poster on the bulletin board,” Matthew said. “I’ll also ask around to see if I can find out anything.” His voice had the sound of casual consent, but the truth was he had already decided to do whatever he had to do to find that dog.
When Lindsay stepped out for lunch, he took the poster from the bulletin board, scanned it and posted the notice on seventeen different websites. Nine were Bichon Frise breeding farms, seven were animal rescue sites and one was an animal activist league.
~ ~ ~
On Tuesday at eleven-forty-five, Matthew asked Lindsay to check his afternoon appointment schedule.
“At two-thirty you’ve got Heidi for a check-up and there’s Sneakers at three-fifteen…” She rattled off a few more, but before she got to the end of the list he interrupted.
“Nothing until two-thirty, huh?” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Okay, we’ve got time. Let’s grab lunch.”
“Together?” Lindsay stammered.
“Of course, together.”
“But the office,” she said.
He laughed. “No problem. The boss will be out to lunch.” He walked over to the glass door and flipped the Open sign to the side that read “Back in 1 hour”.
Lindsay smiled. This invitation was even more than she’d been hoping for.
As it turned out, lunch lasted for well over an hour. Matthew was so different than the other men Lindsay had dated. There was no pretense, no come on. It was a friendship but a friendship that promised so much more. On the surface it seemed that she and Matthew had nothing in common, and yet they found a world of things to talk about. They spoke about the changes that had taken place in Cherry Hill, about old friends who had moved away and new restaurants they had yet to discover. He told her he loved Italian food and even though the very thought of garlic gave her heartburn, she claimed she did also. His eyes never left her face, and she hung on his every word.
“I’m impressed with your sensitivity over this dog.” He smiled at her and she blushed. “I’m serious,” he said earnestly. “I think you’d be great with all kinds of animals.”
“I’ve never really—” Lindsay was going to explain that it was just this one dog, but before she had the chance he interrupted.
“I was thinking maybe you’d like to learn to work with me as an assistant. You could do some easy things to get started, and I’d be right there beside you to help out.” He smiled, but it was a smile that told her this was would be much more than a job.
“That sounds great,” she said enthusiastically. She wanted him to know how pleased she was without giving away the secret of what she was feeling. What she’d been feeling for the past week. The truth was Lindsay more than liked the idea of being close to him. She wanted his hand to touch hers, his shoulder to brush against hers and she wanted to breathe in his musky scent then turn to find him so close she could again see the green flecks in his eyes.
Yes, she wanted all those things, but there was still that terrible fear. Love came at such a high price. You gave your heart to a man you trusted and then discovered the ugly truth. It was an irony of life that she’d learned the hard way. Men who seemed too wonderful to be true usually were.
That evening after dinner Lindsay remained in the kitchen. Supposedly she was there to help Eleanor with the dishes, but it was also an opportunity to bring up the subject of Matthew and his history with women.
“Has he had a thousand different girlfriends?” she asked.
“Not to my knowledge,” Eleanor replied.
“Is he trustworthy?”
“As far as I know he is. I’ve never had reason to think otherwise.”
“Was he ever serious with anyone, or engaged?”
“Yes.”
There was a register of surprise in Lindsay’s voice when she said, “He was?”
Eleanor nodded. “It was shortly after he’d opened his practice. He was engaged to a lovely girl from Cherry Hill. I think her name was Brianna. She wanted to be a reporter, and when she got an offer from the Seattle Inquirer she moved out there.”
“Did he ask her not to go?”
“Whether he did or didn’t, I don’t know.” Eleanor shrugged. “I never asked. A situation like that is too close to the bone. If Matthew wanted to keep it to himself, I felt I should respect his wishes.”
Even though Lindsay couldn’t argue with what Eleanor said, she also couldn’t help but wonder if Matthew still had thoughts of Brianna.
Eleanor had moved on to slicing peaches for the next day’s garden club luncheon when Lindsay turned back and asked, “What did she look like?”
“What did who look like?”
“Brianna. What did she look like?”
Eleanor laughed out loud. “Good gracious, Lindsay, if that’s what you’re worrying about you can quit worrying. Brianna was eight years ago, and Matthew’s dated a dozen different girls since then. He’s not thinking about—”
“But what did she look like? Did she look like me?”
Eleanor shook her head. “Not at all.” She turned back to the peaches then added, “Brianna was six inches shorter than you and nowhere near as pretty.”
Lindsay came up behind Eleanor and hugged her.
The following Saturday night Lindsay and Matthew had their first date. She wore a black dress that was a bit snug in some spots and a smidgen low in others. He noticed immediately.
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “A lot different than the lab coat.” He didn’t have to say anything more. The look in his eyes said it for him.
“I hope that means what I think it means.” Lindsay looked square into his eyes, and this time she didn’t look away when the thirty seconds were up. That’s the rule—thirty seconds of eye-to-eye contact is flirtatious; anything more is an invitation—and that’s exactly what she intended it to be.
“I know you like Italian,” Matthew said nervously, “but there’s this wonderful little French place in downtown Philly and I was thinking—”
Before he could finish the thought, she said, “I like French even better.”
On the drive to Philadelphia they spoke of many things: music, books, food, travel, childhood memories and mutual friends, but the topic of conversation that never surfaced was Matthew’s moved-to-Seattle fiancé. Hopefully s
he was the past and this was an evening for new beginnings.
Bistrot La Minette was everything Lindsay could wish for: cozy, intimate and full of charm.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“I thought you’d like it,” Matthew said. “I do too. It reminds me of Paris. Have you ever been there?”
Lindsay answered no and then asked if he had.
“Yes, twice,” he said.
Her tongue itched to ask who he’d been there with, but she bit back the words. Lindsay had always thought of Paris as a place for lovers, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken Brianna there. Before those thoughts could blossom, he spoke again.
“I spent the summer of my junior year in France. It was Mike Trent, two guys he knew from Duke and me. We backpacked from Provence to Paris then stayed there for five days.”
“I’m so jealous,” she said jokingly. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”
As Lindsay toyed with the stem of her wine glass, he reached across the table and touched his hand to hers. His gesture was not one of those passing happenstances. It was deliberate to the point of being meaningful. It both asked and offered. She gave him a smile of acceptance.
Across the candlelit table, Lindsay saw something she’d never noticed before. Matthew looked exactly like her father. He was so obviously a man with principles.
After dinner they strolled through the park, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She gave a slight shiver.
“Chilly?” he asked.
“Not at all,” she answered and snuggled a bit closer.
Lindsay was tall, and where most men had to settle for holding hands or circling her waist Matthew’s arm looped across her shoulders perfectly. The air was brisk and the sky clear, so they walked for over an hour. Matthew searched out Orion in the sky and then the Big Dipper. He pointed to them and as Lindsay looked up she leaned deeper into his arms. It was long past midnight when he kissed her goodnight, and by then Lindsay knew she was falling in love.
~ ~ ~
Did you notice the POW moment? It was in the park when he put his arm around Lindsay. Yeah, yeah, I know. You expected a steamy love scene, right? Those romance novels will be the death of me. It’s never the way those books tell it, but humans go right on thinking it will be. That’s why a lot of them miss out on the beauty of what I give them. Panting, sweating and bodice-ripping are definitely not my style.
True love happens with the brush of an eyelash or the touch of a hand. It’s gentle and sweet. It tells a woman, “I’m here, and I’ll be here forever.” Lust comes panting and sweating. It says, “I’m here, baby, but who knows where I’ll be tomorrow.”
Now which one would you really rather have?
I thought so.
In the light of morning, Lindsay began to think back on the evening and one troublesome thing kept picking at her mind. Who had Matthew taken to Paris the second time? It wouldn’t have been his buddies. Guys do that once, but it’s not likely he’d return with them a second time. Paris was the city of love. It was a place for picnicking on the grass, strolling along the Seine and kissing under the Eiffel Tower. She thought back to her first day on the job and the observation that Matthew resembled so many of the handsome men she’d dated.
She groaned. “Oh dear, maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is Phillip all over again.”
When she arrived at the breakfast table, Lindsay’s forehead was crumpled with worry.
“Did you and Matthew have a nice time last night?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes,” she answered and left it at that.
“Is something wrong?” her father asked.
Lindsay gave another short end-of-the road answer. “No.”
“Well, you look like something’s wrong,” he said. “If something’s wrong speak up—”
“Hush, John, leave her alone,” Eleanor cut in. “Lindsay’s just tired this morning.”
Lindsay waited until he’d finished his eggs and gone off to read his newspaper in the den. But the moment he was out of sight, she turned to Eleanor and asked, “Did Matthew ever take Brianna to Paris?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Eleanor answered. “He took Gracie, and another time he went with some fellows from college, but I don’t know of—”
“He took his mom?”
“Yes. He gave Gracie that trip for her fiftieth birthday. I remember her packing her bag and getting ready to go; that was the happiest I think I’ve ever seen her.”
Lindsay sat silently as Eleanor moved the dish she’d rinsed into the drainer.
Eleanor picked up another platter and continued. “For years Gracie had talked of one day going to Paris, but there was never a right time or enough money. After we learned of the cancer, Matthew got tickets and said he was taking her.”
Eleanor hesitated a moment and allowed the memories to sweep through her heart. “When they got back from that trip Gracie told me now that she’d seen Paris, she could die a happy woman.”
“She died?”
“Yes.” Eleanor’s eyes began to tear. “Less than a year later. It broke my heart. She was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister, and I surely did love her.” While the thought was still hanging in the air she added, “Life gives and takes. It gave me a sister then took her away. It gave me a husband then took him too.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lindsay said, wrapping her arms around the woman she once hated, “but now you’ve got Dad, so maybe life is trying to make up for its mistakes.”
Eleanor squeezed a bit closer. “Honey, getting to know you has more than made up for the heartaches I’ve gone through.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when she realized what she’d said. “Oops, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For calling you honey again.”
Lindsay laughed out loud. “You can call me honey any old time you want to. As a matter of fact, I like it.”
~ ~ ~
Ah, yes, as the saying goes, “Love makes the world go around.” If only more humans could come to see that. Love is like marmalade. The more you spread it around the sweeter everything tastes. Did you notice when Lindsay started to fall in love with Matthew, Eleanor came along for the ride? That’s how love works. When humans are in love they’re happy, and when they’re happy they’re nicer and more pleasant to everyone. It’s a virtual impossibility to be happy in love and ill-tempered at the same time.
At this point it’s safe to assume Eleanor’s problems with Lindsay are over, but unfortunately her problems with Ray are escalating rapidly.
Three times I had Traci come to bed in a flimsy little thing that should have gotten some reaction, but nothing. One night she fixed him a pot roast dinner that even I would have enjoyed. Then she followed it up with a homemade lemon meringue pie. After dinner he was about as mellow as a man like Ray gets, and Traci brought up the question of starting a family. He flat out said no and then dropped the discussion like a hot potato. Since I was able to see what he was thinking at the time, I can tell you it’s typical of someone with an ax to grind.
I’m out of ideas when it comes to Ray, and asking Life Management for help is not an option. They’re not the least bit flexible about altering their event plan. I’m giving this two more weeks, and then I’m going to The Boss. Nothing’s impossible for him. Not even a man stubborn as Ray.
Cupid
The Good and Bad
Watching humans fall in love is the best part of this job. In the early days, weeks, months and, for the most fortunate ones, years, humans are at their shiny bright best. Time doesn’t lessen their love, but it changes the mating dance. What begins as a wild and passionate tango evolves into a waltz with two bodies bending and moving together, whirling across the potholed landscape of life. After years of trial and error, that gracefully gliding waltz becomes a slow fox trot with smaller evenly matched steps, and when one partner grows weary they lean on their mate knowing they will be carried. This last da
nce may not be as exciting as the first, but I can assure you there’s true beauty in every step.
~ ~ ~
Once Lindsay discovered that Matthew had taken his mother to Paris, she let go of the sack of “what ifs” she’d been carrying around. Suddenly she could see clear as day. Matthew had tons of principles, more principles than a girl would ever need. Perhaps even more than her father.
On Saturday night they went to the movies and stopped for pizza, and on Sunday they returned to Philadelphia for a visit to the aquarium. Lindsay was amazed to discover that things she’d seen dozens of times before were now brighter and more lively.
“They must have changed the lighting in here,” she exclaimed. “The fish seem so much more colorful.”
“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Matthew answered. Then he snuggled her into the crook of his arm.
With his heart beating in harmony with hers, they stood and watched two grey sharks swim back and forth for nearly an hour.
“Fascinating creatures aren’t they?” Matthew said.
“Unh-hunh,” Lindsay replied and shouldered herself a bit closer.
On Monday Lindsay was up before the sun and already standing in front of the Kindness Animal Clinic when Matthew arrived to unlock the door.
“I thought I’d check the appointment schedule and get that out of the way,” she said. “Then you can start teaching me how to work with dogs.”
“Good idea,” Matthew answered. He touched his finger to her face and tilted her chin upward as if he were about to kiss her. Lindsay waited, but it didn’t happen. Instead he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and said, “Let’s get started.”
As they worked Lindsay stood alongside him in an examination room, seizing every opportunity to inch a bit closer or allow his hand to brush against hers.
Lindsay knew she was in love. When she went to bed at night it took hours to fall asleep, because she couldn’t put the picture of Matthew out of her mind. When she finally slept, she dreamt of him. In some dreams they walked arm in arm through the park, or danced, or better yet kissed with a fervency that left beads of perspiration on her forehead when she awoke.
Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3 Page 12