Sheltered Hearts (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  I know that smartphones are supposed to make it easier to navigate in the world, but I’m about to throw mine across the room as I’m trying to pull up the bus schedule. I guess that’s why I practically run over Mitch in the hallway. Today, he’s working with a completely different dog. I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by his mere presence or his abrupt command, “Dizzy, halt.”

  I scowl at Mitch as I snap, “Look, I don’t know what I did to upset you, but a simple hello would’ve been nice.”

  Mitch looks baffled as he asks, “What?”

  Out the corner of my eye, I see the city bus pull into the parking lot of the business complex. I gasp as I grab my bag and place it on my shoulder and sprint to the door.

  Mitch clicks his tongue and says, “Diz, come,” as he quickly follows me and soon overtakes me and holds the door open for me. He looks me in the eye as he directs, “When you get somewhere private, call me.”

  “I KNOW WE JUST FINISHED our latest round of first-aid training, but I’d really rather not use it on you,” I remark as I chuck a roll of paper towels across the room at Stuart. He’s currently laughing hard enough that he’s aspirating his strawberry milk. “Seriously, dude, how old are you? Why are you drinking that crap?”

  “Didn’t you ever watch Saturday morning cartoons? It’s good for you,” he responds with a shrug. “Did your fiery, red-headed Tinkerbell really flip you off in the middle of the police department? I would’ve paid money to see that. What in the world did you do to her?” Stuart asks between chuckles.

  I hold up my hands in a gesture of innocence, “Nothing, I swear.”

  “I just think it’s too funny. Usually I’m the one who’s all sorts of awkward with women. I’ve never seen you have trouble. Normally, they fall all over themselves just to be in your presence. This is fascinating to watch,” Stuart retorts with a chortle

  “I think all the studying has damaged your brain. That’s not how it’s been at all. You’re the one who’s Mr. Popular. You and Nora were the ‘it’ couple all the way through high school. I’m the one that was always the third wheel, did you forget that?”

  Stuart shakes his head at me and counters, “I don’t think we’ll ever agree on how things went down back then. I think the girls steered clear because no one was a hundred percent certain whether Nora’s heart belonged to you or to me. I don’t blame them; some days, I’m not sure Nora knew either.”

  Before I can even absorb what he said, Stuart follows that world-tilting statement with an insightful question, “You guys were hitting it off big time, especially at her birthday party, right? Didn’t you go out on several dates with her and take her out with the dogs to see what they think of her? I thought she passed the dog park test with flying colors.”

  I nod as a reply, “Yeah, I told you all about that. She’s amazing. All the dogs love her. For once, I’m glad I signed up for that stupid dating site because in a roundabout way it’s responsible for our connection.”

  “So, why are you disconnected now?” he prompts with a knowing smirk and his arms crossed.

  “I went on a rescue,” I answer defensively.

  “Yeah, so? Did you fall into a vortex where every form of modern technology failed? Did you lose her cell phone number, her email address, or my cell phone number? You know, she gave me her cell phone number the day we stitched Hope up. I could have called her for you — if you were that hard up. I think she’s pretty hot so if you’re going to give her the brushoff, I’d like to know.”

  “I’m not giving her the brushoff!” I bellow.

  Stuart arches his eyebrow at me as he probes, “Does she know that?”

  I sink back into the old dilapidated couch. I feel like banging my head against the wall. I can’t believe how stupid I am. I wish I had some grand excuse, but I really don’t, other than I was stressed out, exhausted and distracted. “You know, I hate it when you’re right. There’s no living with you for weeks afterwards.”

  “Someone has to save you from yourself. Do you need some help plotting your recovery?” he offers with a grin.

  “No, but I might need a loan. It could be costly to get myself out of the doghouse, so to speak,” I admit.

  An agitated sigh escapes me as I refresh the screen on my cell phone again. Stuart dips his fry in catsup as he rolls his eyes at me and complains, “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to study. What is your problem? I know it’s not your job because you’re on vacation.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? I’ve commenced ‘Operation Earn Red’s Forgiveness’. Stage one should launch any second now. I’m waiting for the package to be delivered.”

  Stuart’s eyebrows shoot straight up as he asks, “Do I even want to know what hare-brained plan you’ve come up with?”

  “Well, it’s like you always say: ‘go big or go home’,” I reply with a shrug.

  “Mitch, you know that you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a brother, but since when do you take my advice on anything? This might actually be a really bad time for you to start. Your parents always thought I was a bad influence, remember?”

  “Stu—” I turn toward him and pin him with a lethal gaze. “Seriously, now is not the time. I may have blown the whole thing and I don’t want it to be over before I have a chance to figure out if I even stood a chance to make it work.”

  Stuart looks a little shocked by the anger in my voice. “All right, I was just messing with you. I think Jessica is cool. She’s definitely not one of those interchangeable girls that are like the female equivalent of Legos that you seem to date just so that you can say you check off some mandatory dating box. I never quite figured out why you do that. Obviously, you don’t even have a connection with these women and you don’t even seem to be enjoying yourself much, so why put yourself through the torture? That never made much sense to me. The fact that Jessica seems to hit all the right buttons for you makes me want to root for her that much more. It’s good that she makes you think on your feet and strive to be better.”

  My anger rolls to the surface as his words hit a little too close to home. “Geez Stuart, why don’t you tell me how you really feel? I don’t see you going out and finding your perfect match either. I see you playing a whole lot of dating games and working the field, but I don’t see you getting serious about anybody. Do you really have a whole lot of room to talk about the way I date?”

  Stuart recoils as if I’ve just decked him. His jaw clinches; he sticks his earbuds in his ears and starts to gather up his books and notecards. He looks back over his shoulder and remarks, “As your best friend, I really shouldn’t need to explain this, but put this on your balance sheet, ‘Mr. Accountant’. The one person I thought I was going to spend my life with died in the middle of an earthquake. You’ll pardon me if I’m not real excited about jumping into another relationship. I feel like part of me died that day, too. I don’t know that it’s ever going to change. So, if I want to play around the edges of dating for the rest of my freakin’ life, I don’t see how that’s your business or anyone else’s. I really figured you, of all people, would get that.”

  I watch in stunned silence as my best friend since second grade strides away, leaving a cloud of dark rage hanging in the air.

  Fortunately, the restaurant is pretty quiet and there aren’t many people around to witness my quiet struggle. I fight with my urge to follow Stuart to make sure that he’s okay. I deeply despise the knowledge that my presence might actually make things exponentially worse. Even though I want to argue with everything Stuart said, I know, deep down, I simply can’t.

  Although Stuart doesn’t make a habit of being blunt, everything he said was absolutely spot on. His remarks over the last few days make me question again how much he knew about my feelings for Nora. If he knew the depths of my feelings for his girlfriend, why didn’t we ever talk about them? If Stuart knew about them, was Nora aware of the full extent of my crush too? Did they ever discuss them together? If they did, how did they feel about it? There are s
o many unanswered questions, I can barely wrap my brain around it. It almost seems like the whole paradigm of our friendship has completely shifted long after Nora passed away. It’s almost too much to contemplate, especially since Stuart is obviously furious with me right now. This isn’t a good time to consider even having a rational discussion about the past. And even if I were to consider having a conversation about our relationship between the three of us, what purpose would it serve? I don’t know that solving any of my past would help sort out my current relationship with Jessica. It’s also confusing. In some weird way it all seems intertwined like a crazy ball of yarn that’s knotted and twisted in so many ways that it might never come unwound. I haven’t quite figured out why my past and my present have become so enmeshed when the two women would have never, ever crossed paths. Yet, one feels dependent on the other.

  My phone beeps with the special ring tone that I assigned to Jessica. My mouth turns dry and the palms of my hands are sweaty. I almost laugh out loud at my own body’s responses to a simple text message. I haven’t been this nervous since I went on my first search and rescue assignment. This is ridiculous. I stop to take a drink of my soda and wipe my hands on my jeans. I open the message and breathe a sigh of relief as I read, “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for a good mystery.”

  Latching Hope’s working harness, I tuck a single red rose into the backpack. I present Hope with a scarf that Jessica left behind in my rig and I softly give the command for her to seek Jessica. This will be a real test of Hope’s recent training. It’s one thing for her to be able to find things in a confined training ground. It’s another thing for her to be able to do it in a busy shopping plaza with all sorts of foreign scents, outside in the elements with the public distracting her. I purposely haven’t looked for Jessica. I’m not entirely certain she showed up. I don’t want to know exactly where she is because I don’t want to give Hope any nonverbal cues; I want Hope to be able to do this all on her own. It’s vital for me to know what her actual skill level is before I use her in the field.

  It doesn’t take more than a couple of seconds before Hope is apparently on Jessica’s trail. Her focus is laser sharp. When a child squeals with delight and starts to approach her, Hope doesn’t even look up. In fact, she just speeds up. Very quickly, I need to jog to keep up with her. She is weaving in and out of traffic so quickly that I’m not even sure where she’s going. Abruptly, Hope sits down, which is her signal that she’s found what she’s looking for. Initially, I’m concerned that it might be a false positive because I don’t see Jessica anywhere.

  Just as I’m ready to dismiss Hope’s find, I hear a peal of laughter I would recognize anywhere. I peer around a really large older gentleman walking with a cane only to find Jessica kneeling at his feet tying his shoes. “I gotta say, these are the hottest kicks I’ve seen in a while; but you need to get yourself some lace keepers, I’d hate to see you trip on your laces again. That could have been a nasty fall,” I hear her say.

  “Much obliged, Missy. My granddaughter moved away. She used to take care of me — now I gots nobody. I just wanted to take me a walk today. It’s a nice day and all,” the gentleman explains uncomfortably.

  Jessica’s eyes tear up as she answers, “It’s all right. Tying your shoes was the least I could do. If I didn’t already have a date for this evening, I would take you out to dinner.”

  “Oh… go on now, don’t you be wasting your time on an old man like me; love is for the young,” he says with a shake of his head.

  Jessica throws back her head and laughs as she replies, “You never know… maybe I like my gentlemen older and refined.”

  “Quit whisperin’ sweet nothins’ in my ear and go find yer beau,” the old man replies with a chuckle. He looks up and catches me watching the interaction with bemusement. “Never mind that, I think he found you.” He helps Jessica to her feet and advises, “Now, that’s a right handsome young man. You make sure to treat him right. Look-see that dog thinks the world of him. That right there tells you everything you need to know ‘bout him. You two have a good date. If you ever need someone to watch the dog, let me know. I lost my Charlton to cancer couple years ago. He was the best bulldog ever.”

  As soon as Jessica hears my voice, she spins around. Comically, she almost loses her balance and the gentleman has to catch her. As soon as she sees Hope, she drops back down to her knee and encourages Hope to come for a snuggle.

  “Missy, I don’t think you should do that, looks to me like that dog is on the job or somethun’,” he cautions with a shake of his head. “Maybe you should save your kisses for your man.”

  Jessica reluctantly stands up and replies, “You’re right, but what if it’s more fun to kiss the dog?”

  The man gives a full-bodied belly laugh and advises, “If that’s true, I need to have a good long talk with your beau. He needs to have some lessons from somebody who’s been around the block a time or two.”

  I put Hope in a down and fervently pray she stays there because her body language is screaming anything but compliance as she’s practically vibrating with anticipation. I smile to myself as I sympathize with her because I’ve been feeling the same way all day. I carefully step over Hope as I reach down to get the rose out of her side pack.

  I carefully study Jessica as I try to read her expression for clues. Her eyes are wide with surprise as I stride toward her with purpose. The color in her eyes reminds me of a swirling sea with waves of color, sometimes blue and sometimes green. Her expression is teeming with emotion. She appears both hopeful and wary, anxious and excited, defiant and accepting.

  The old man chortles as he remarks, “Missy, I may have underestimated your man, he’s on a mission — you best brace yourself.”

  Jessica nods in agreement as she murmurs, “I think you might be right, but something tells me that may not be a bad thing.”

  When I stop directly in front of Jessica, she looks down toward the ground. I reach out with my index finger and tilt her chin up. Without a word, I boldly kiss her lips, taking time to leisurely savor the soft texture. For a moment I am completely lost in the pure sensory nature of it all as I bury my hand in her rich fiery hair and respond to her lips dancing with mine.

  When I reluctantly pull away, Jessica sighs and rests her forehead against mine. “Umm… hi,” she stammers, after she catches her breath. “I take it you missed me?” she asks.

  “More than you can imagine,” I admit as I hand her the rose I’ve been hiding behind my back.

  She arches her eyebrow at me and asks, “Really? You could’ve fooled me. I thought for sure I gave you my phone number.”

  I stroke her cheek with my thumb as I answer, “You did. If I had any brains, I would’ve used it every single day. I was an idiot and let the stresses of my job get to me. I’m here to show you that I’m willing to do things differently and step out of my comfort zone.”

  Jessica closes her eyes and leans her cheek into my palm for a moment before she opens her eyes and nails me with a piercing glance. “Why?” she asks with trepidation.

  “Despite appearances to the contrary, Jess, I like you. Whether it was an accident of fate, a bizarre coincidence or divine intervention, something brought us together and I’d like to see where that leads,” I confess with raw emotion.

  I glance over the top of Jessica’s head and catch the eye of the older gentleman and note his silent salute of support.

  MY HEAD IS SPINNING — OKAY, I’ll admit that kiss would have been enough to make me weak in the knees all by itself. I can’t believe that this is the same guy who was almost too nervous to give me a peck on the cheek. The change is startling, baffling and intriguing. I’m once again struck by the thought that I’m not really sure who the real Mitch Campbell is. I wonder if he has a real sense of himself either. Sometimes, I think he might be as confused as I am.

  At the moment, we are making quite a spectacle as we proceed down the street. Mitch doesn’t want me to pay attention to where we’re
going so he’s asked me to look down at the sidewalk and not out at our surroundings. To the casual observer, it probably looks like Hope is my guide dog. It appears as if Mitch and I are taking our grandfather out for a night on the town.

  I have to give Mitch credit — although this kind of thing isn’t anything new for me, given my grandpa’s calling — it was Mitch who graciously came up with the idea of inviting the man, whose name we learned was Mr. Houser, on our date to serve as our unofficial chaperone and tour guide.

  It isn’t long before we pause and Mitch opens the door for Mr. Houser and me. I am immediately assaulted by the fragrant smell of spices. I recognize the smell of Indian food immediately, Ivy and I once had a roommate who was a waitress at an Indian restaurant and she used to bring home food all the time. We were so spoiled. I turn to Mitch, “How did you know that Indian food is one of my favorites?”

  “I didn’t. Tonight is about showing you that I’m flexible and can operate outside of my comfort zone. I figure that this is just about as far outside of my lane as I can get. You probably don’t know me well enough to know how difficult this is for me. This is pretty much the culinary equivalent of jumping out of a helicopter for me. You know that stereotypical kid who only eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with two carrots on the side, that can’t be touching? Well, that was me as a kid. Who am I kidding? That’s pretty much me to this day. I like my steak exactly medium rare with a baked potato with only butter and green onions on the top with salt-and-pepper. Please serve my steak sauce on the side.”