To Heal A Heart (Love Inspired) (7 page)

“I really like that coppery orange on you. It makes your eyes positively glow.”

Piper smiled. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t the best conversational gambit. Melissa had gushed about the stretchy knit top from the moment she’d pulled it from Piper’s closet earlier that evening, and she’d repeated that bit about the eyes three times already. Nevertheless, any distraction was greatly appreciated at this point—not that it helped much. As the punch line drew near—hopefully—the jokester actually raised his voice, launching Piper into desperate conversation.

“I wish I could wear that shade of red you have on,” she said so loudly that Melissa looked pained.

It was Piper’s turn to wince as the joke reached its punch line, employing a certain expression she found particularly vile. Even Melissa’s cheeks pinked. As laugher erupted around them, Melissa leaned across the table.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?”

Piper blanched guiltily. “I guess not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself. The band seems good.”

Melissa slanted a pitying look at her. “They are, but the music’s too loud even for me. I’ll ask Scott to take us home when he gets back to the table.”

Piper felt immense relief, but good manners made her voice a token protest. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s evening, and he seems to be enjoying himself.”

Melissa flipped a hand nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about that. We can come back another time. It’ll be more fun a few weeks from now, anyway. These new clubs always start out trying to blow you out of the room, show you they’ve got the necessary ingredients for a good time, you know?”

“They certainly have the necessary sound equipment,” Piper commented wryly, “provided, of course, that a good time necessitates rendering one permanently deaf.”

Melissa chuckled. “They’ll tone it down some before long.”

As far as Piper was concerned, they could tone it down a lot and still be too loud.

Scott returned a few minutes later, and Piper was glad to see that he’d almost finished his soda already, if not the basket of popcorn that he placed in the center of the tiny table. Immediately Melissa rose, wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear. He grinned and quickly downed the remainder of the liquid in his glass, wrapped an arm around his wife’s slender waist and happily abandoned the basket of popcorn as he stood.

“What are we waiting for?”

Piper telegraphed her friend a silent message of thanks as they began winding their way toward the door. As they stepped down onto the relatively peaceful sidewalk, Melissa linked arms with her husband, gave Piper a wink and set off at a brisk pace toward the lot where they’d left their small, foreign-made, economy coupe.

Once at the car, Piper crawled into the narrow back seat and belted herself in. Melissa and Scott dropped into the front buckets, with Melissa behind the wheel, and they were shortly off. As they drove swiftly through the busy, darkened Dallas streets, Scott kept his hand on his wife’s knee, occasionally giving it a squeeze. Melissa would shoot him a smile every so often and get a rub or a pat in return. Piper pretended not to notice.

She had never felt quite so alone.

Once the car was parked in its narrow assigned space at the apartment house and they had all managed to climb out without denting those automobiles occupying spots on either side, Piper thanked her friends for the evening and started toward the rear pass-through into the inner courtyard. Scott and Melissa followed. Piper didn’t have to look to know that Scott had his arms wrapped around his wife, but as the trio drew near the bottom of the stairs Melissa disengaged and sent Scott on ahead, promising to be right up after walking Piper to her door.

Piper put her off. “Don’t be silly. I’m ten feet from home. Go on up with your husband.”

Melissa reached for Piper’s hand, her warm hazel eyes intent. “Not until I’m sure that you’re okay. What is it, hon? It’s pretty clear to me that something’s bothering you.”

To Piper’s dismay, she felt the hot weight of sudden tears behind her eyes. To hide them, she employed a slight laugh and gave her head a little shake.

“Can’t fool you, can I? It’s just a headache. I didn’t want to complain. The loud music and all…you know how it is.”

“Are you sure it’s just a headache?” Melissa asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Piper knew it was more than that, but evaded the question. “I’ll be okay tomorrow. You go on up to your husband, and don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re sure,” Melissa hedged uncertainly.

Piper squeezed her friend’s hand and pulled free. “Go on. If I’m not mistaken, you have promises to keep.”

Melissa grinned. “Oh, yeah.” She waggled an eyebrow and swung around the end of the heavy metal banister up onto the stairs. “See you tomorrow,” she called, pelting up the steps.

Piper smiled and waved before turning desperately toward her own door and safe haven.

Melissa and Scott seemed so happy together, so crazy about each other, and she was delighted for them, but she couldn’t help thinking how shallow and pointless her own life seemed to be. Was this what God intended for her? she wondered bitterly. Was this her punishment, to forever feel out of sync and alone despite such friendship? Tears were streaming down her face by the time she got inside the apartment, and this time she couldn’t seem to stop them.

M
itch wasn’t looking for her, not really, or so he told himself as he stood staring down at the busy sidewalk. The plate-glass window of his office offered a great view of the insurance building where she worked. It was just past noon, and he had been standing here fully ten minutes or more, craning his head, cheek almost touching the glass. He had performed this same ritual the previous Thursday and Friday, since he’d visited her office and been so obviously rebuffed. Why couldn’t he get it through his head that she didn’t want to see him?

Accept it, counselor, he told himself sternly, but even as he thought the words, he spied a bright, pale copper head behind the glass doors of the Medical Specialist building facade. His breath stopped, and his heart began to race when she pushed through to the sidewalk. She paused for a moment, glanced down the street in his direction, tugged on the tie of the heavy sweater belted at her waist and turned toward the square, her lunch kit in one hand.

Mitch didn’t think about whether or not he should follow her. He didn’t have to. The decision had been made long ago without his even realizing it, and he was of no mind to second-guess. Grabbing his suit coat from the hanger inside the small closet, he tore out of his office. His eyes barely registered the full wall of built-in amenities—from sink, small refrigerator, television set and file cabinets.

He hadn’t brought his lunch, but he wasn’t concerned about that just now. His secretary had left earlier, and when he’d told her that he wouldn’t be going out, she’d offered to bring back something for him to eat. She would most likely return before him, but he didn’t bother leaving her a note to let her know where to find him. All that mattered at the moment was getting to the square before Piper left it, provided of course that was where she was going. At this point, he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

Hurrying along the sidewalk, he told God silently that he wasn’t trying to circumvent His will, that he would accept it without question if she wasn’t where he hoped to find her, but he also didn’t hesitate to ask that she be there. His pulse was racing more than necessary when he reached the square. Pausing, he shaded his eyes against the autumn sun—he’d forgotten his shades in his haste—and surveyed the area. She was sitting on one end of a concrete ledge on the other side of the square. He almost dropped with relief.

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

He pulled a deep breath, slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants and strolled toward her with a studied nonchalance that he certainly didn’t feel. He was halfway across the square when she looked up, turned her head and spotted him. She didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way, but she didn’t get up and leave, either; as he drew near, she lifted her gaze from her sandwich to his face again and nodded. Even though her usual smile was missing, he tried not to let it bother him, but his greeting was tentative nonetheless.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” She looked back to her sandwich, undecided for a moment, and then grimly bit off a small piece of it. He wandered closer. Chewing, she slid down a little, though there were yards of room on the wide ledge. She swallowed and said, “Have a seat.”

Wary of spooking her into flight again, Mitch tried not to let his pleasure or hopefulness show as he hitched a leg up onto the ledge and scooted into place. They were actually sitting on top of a low wall that shielded the steps leading down into the underground passageways linking some of the downtown buildings. She almost had her back to him, but not enough to prevent his joining her.

He realized suddenly that he hadn’t thought at all about what he was going to say to her because he hadn’t really expected to see her again. Making a quick decision, he ignored all that had happened before—her running away and then avoiding him—in favor of simple pleasantries.

“How have you been?” Okay, not so simple, perhaps.

“All right,” she said, not looking at him.

He took that at face value. She wasn’t fine, she wasn’t awful, she was just okay.

“Me, too,” he replied, adding, “Busy, as usual.”

She adjusted her seat on the cold concrete and nibbled at her sandwich. “What happened with your Peeping Tom?”

He savored her interest for a moment before answering. “He pleaded guilty to a minor offense after one of his victims decided to press charges.”

Piper cut him a wry, knowing glance. “Did you have a hard time talking her into it?”

His grin flashed before he could stop it. “Nope.”

She disciplined a smile and arched a fine brow. “Is it enough to get your client the counseling he needs?”

“My client’s husband, actually, and yes, it is. His court-appointed attorney made it a condition of his probation.”

She turned her head, fixing him with an appreciative stare. “And was
that
difficult for you to arrange?”

He tried not to feel smug or prideful. “It was, actually. The court probably would have doled out probation without counseling if his lawyer hadn’t asked for it, but I managed to convince her to fill out the paperwork and chase down the necessary signatures.”

Piper hitched a shoulder contemplatively. “What did you have to promise her?”

“Nothing much—just the usual quid pro quo.”

Piper shifted so that she was facing forward, and he silently admired her profile: sleek head, thick hair plaited flat against her skull revealing one dainty ear, then hanging loose from her nape to the bottoms of her shoulder blades. He appreciated her smooth forehead, the slight indentation of a wide, almond-shaped eye fringed with glinting copper-gold lashes, the delicate bridge and tilt-tipped nub of her nose and the lush contours of her full mouth. Her slightly pointed chin seemed to lack its usual stubborn jut.

He wanted to put his arms around her, tell her that everything was going to be fine, for he knew without doubt that she was deeply troubled. He assumed that such an embrace would be unwelcome, though. She sighed, looking so unbearably forlorn that he almost put that assumption to the test.

Then she shocked him by saying, “I’m a nurse, you know, not a glorified clerk.” She put her head down. “Guess I’m having a difficult time making the adjustment to the new job.”

A nurse. He’d thought that insurance had always been her field. Then again, lots of nurses worked for insurance companies in managed care. He cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts.

“I take it you worked with patients before.”

She nodded and looked down at the sandwich she obviously didn’t want. “I’ve always worked in a hospital until now.” She tossed him a wry smile that didn’t have much besides irony in it. “I thought this would be a good change of pace.”

“But you miss the old job,” he surmised.

She laid aside her sandwich with a grimace. “Frankly, reviewing cases is a bore.”

“It’s important, though. You’re still making a genuine contribution.”

“Am I? I don’t know.”

“Then why not go back to what you love? The hospitals around here are always looking for help.”

She shook her head firmly. “No.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense to him. “Look,” he argued gently, “if the new job isn’t a good fit, then just change.”

“Maybe I haven’t given it enough time,” she said listlessly. “Besides, it wouldn’t look good on my résumé—leaving after only a few weeks.”

“So stick with it awhile longer, then go back,” he suggested.

She looked away as if scrutinizing a distant future—or was it the past? Then she abruptly dropped her gaze to her lap.

“We’ll see.”

She seemed so sad that he took a chance by reaching for her hand. Gratified when she didn’t immediately pull away, he clasped it in both of his.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to pray for you regularly from now on.”

Her smile trembled. “Thank you, Mitch. That’s very kind after…” Biting her lip, she ducked her head. “It’s not you,” she told him softly. “It’s me. It’s always been me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gently.

She tilted her head back, gulping air as if trying to keep tears at bay.

“I’m going to stop feeling sorry for myself,” she muttered fiercely. “I am absolutely going to stop this.”

He chuckled in sympathy. “I find that a little distraction helps.”

“Oh?” she returned lightly. Then she added, “What would you suggest?”

His heart thumped, kicking his brain into high gear. She had opened a door, through which he was quite eager to carefully pass.

“Uh, music.” Yes, that was good. He knew a little something of her tastes. “I have tickets to the Meyerson Symphony Center Tuesday performances.”

He didn’t. What he meant was that his parents had a subscription and he often, sometimes, went in one or the other’s place. He felt sure that they’d give up both seats for a good cause, and he certainly couldn’t think of a better one than this. He didn’t bother explaining all that to Piper, though, and as it turned out, he didn’t have to.

Her face lit with the first genuine smile he’d seen from her today, and her hand flexed between his. “That sounds wonderful!”

He laughed. “It is. I mean, it will be—if you’ll go with me.”

She leaned in a bit, a glimmer of the Piper with whom he’d become familiar, and confided teasingly, “I did assume that you were inviting me.”

“Absolutely.” He couldn’t stop grinning. It was altogether too obvious of him, but he just couldn’t help himself.

She cocked her head inquiringly, then after a moment asked, “What time?”

“Ah!” He felt like the biggest dolt around. “I should pick you up, oh, about seven-thirty. Tomorrow evening. I did say that, didn’t I—Tuesday?”

She grinned. “You did, yes. So tomorrow evening at half past seven.”

“Unless you want to go to dinner first?”

She laughed. “Eating again.”

He remembered what she’d said before about sharing so many meals, given the relatively short amount of time they’d spent together. “Right.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Let’s skip it. I mean, by the time I can get home from work it’ll be going on six, and I want to have time to dress. It’s not formal, is it?”

“Oh, no. Semi, at best. Some folks show up in their jeans.” He shrugged, adding, “Wear whatever you like.”

“I’m correct in assuming that you won’t show up in your jeans, aren’t I?”

“Only if you want me to.”

She shook her head. “You tell me what you usually wear.”

He shrugged. “Suit.”

“And tie?”

“Not always. Sometimes I wear a pullover under my jacket.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be appropriately dressed and waiting at half past seven.”

“Better make it seven,” he said on second thought, “if that gives you enough time. I want to find a good parking spot. Otherwise, we could be all night getting out of the lot.”

“I can manage seven,” she agreed readily. “Oh, and I’d better give you the code to the security gate.”

Mitch smiled. “All right.”

She recited the sequence of numbers, which he instantly committed to memory. He repeated them back to her.

“That’s it,” she confirmed, adding playfully, “You’re my first breach of security.”

Mitch felt for a moment as if he could walk on air. Then she pulled her hand from his, picked up her sandwich and remarked that the weather was unusually fine today.

“Never seen finer,” he told her honestly, remarking silently that this might well be the best day in recent memory.

Melissa helped her dress for the evening. She insisted that Piper wear the long-sleeved, form-fitting orange top. They settled on a slender, ankle-length black skirt and a long black scarf to go with it. Accompanied by black, wedge-heeled shoes, matching stockings and a silver chain with a turquoise pendant, the outfit seemed stylish, even dramatic, without being overly dressy.

They wrangled over her hair, but Melissa won in the end, simply because they ran out of time. After laboring for what seemed like hours, Melissa had just pronounced her chignon complete when the doorbell rang. Melissa went to answer it while Piper took a final look at the twisted and coiled mass from which tendrils drifted artfully, one long tress snaking from its very center. It was much more elaborate than her usual confining braid, and a tad trendy for her taste, but it would have to do.

She sighed with resignation even as she heard Melissa introduce herself while letting in Mitch. His deep voice replied, and Piper was aware of a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She briefly closed her eyes in a bid for courage, wondering again if she had made the right decision. His invitation had seemed like a Godsend yesterday in the square, an opportunity to get her life back on a familiar, even keel, and yet she was all too aware that Mitch Sayer represented some danger to her. What that was she could not exactly determine, and truthfully she almost didn’t care any longer.

Life had somehow gotten ridiculously complicated, and she wanted relief in a half-comfortable form. Any danger that he represented seemed a suitable price to pay for an evening of sedate classical music. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf from the experience!

Leaving her tiny bathroom, she swept a small black leather handbag from atop her rented dresser and strode into the living area. Mitch stood with his back to her, his hands in the pants pockets of his expensive black suit as he conversed with Melissa.

“That’s the beauty of a small apartment house,” he was saying. “The neighbors get to know one another.”

Before Melissa could reply, he turned to greet Piper.

“Ready as I’m ever going to be,” she announced, too nervous to let herself register his expression. Instead, she fiddled with the chain strap on her handbag, settling it on one shoulder, then checked the lay of the scarf, which she had simply draped around her neck in front, leaving the long ends to dangle down her back.

Belatedly, she realized that the room had quietened into an unnatural silence. Glancing up, she caught Melissa’s eye. Folding her arms smugly, her friend lifted an eyebrow and gave her head a slight nod in Mitch’s direction. Piper steeled herself and pivoted. He stood there in the middle of her floor with his mouth open, one hand resting on the front of the sleek, ice-blue pullover under his suit coat.