A Hopeful Heart and A Home, a Heart, A Husband. Lois Richer
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are you going to do?” Harry asked with a frown.
“Exactly what I’ve been doing for the past twenty-five years,” Hope told him with a smile. “Take each day as it comes and plan on making it the best yet.”
“Good,” he agreed after a moment. “And I’ll be here to share them with you.”
“You have been for a long time now,” she murmured, staring at his bald head as if she hadn’t noticed it before. “We’ve had some good times, haven’t we, Harry? You and Anna and I. She was my very best friend, you know. I always felt as if she was my sister.”
Harry frowned.
“Well, I don’t feel like your brother,” he muttered. To his delight she giggled, leaning nearer to kiss him on one cheek.
“You don’t look like him, either,” she assured him, laughing. She jumped to her feet and tugged his arm. “Come on, lazybones. I let you feed me all that delicious food. The least you can do is help me walk it off.”
“All right,” he agreed meekly. “But I carefully planned a low-fat meal, just as you prefer. You know that. As long as we just walk. I’m too old for anything else.”
Hope’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Really?” she asked. “That’s too bad.”
Harry let her lead him down the path, resisting an urge to kiss her then and there. But no, he decided. He’d bide his time. They were just beginning to get closer, and she was only starting to come to terms with the possibility of Jean’s reappearance. Everything looked positive, but he’d keep mentioning things to the Lord, just the same. A little heavenly guidance couldn’t hurt, he decided, hearing Hope’s sudden burst of laughter.
Chapter Four
“Have a nice day, folks. Enjoy that sun.”
Mitchel Edward Stewart was not having a nice day, despite the radio announcer’s bland wish. He had risen with a splitting headache on his first day off in weeks. The coffeemaker had refused to cooperate, and his doughnut supply was tapped out.
It should have been simple. Everything was so carefully planned. He would pick up some supplies from downtown and then he was heading out for a day at the beach. Sun, sand and surf, that’s what he needed. Maybe even a cold root beer.
Sighing, he stared balefully at his bright red sports car once more. Apparently, some things were not to be. The expensive engine refused to respond to his orders, and since anything under the hood of an automobile gave him hives, Mitch had called the shop.
“Nope, can’t touch it today.” The youngster’s voice was less than helpful. At least he thought it was. You could barely hear over the crashing of some heavy metal band in the background.
“Pardon?”
“No can do, dude.”
“And why is that?” Mitchel had forced a tight rein of control on his temper and prayed for strength. Impudent little brat!
“Mechanic’s out sick. Have a good one!” With a click, the kid had hung up on him, leaving Mitchel to bite out a particularly choice epithet that divulged his irritation with the world in general.
“Something I said?”
He groaned, recognizing her voice immediately. Why now, why today? He turned to face Miss Melanie Stewart, a flush of red hinting at his turmoil.
“Hi.” There. Let her make something of that.
“Car problems?”
His reply was curt and succinct. “Yeah.”
“Can I look?”
He stared at her. “Why?”
Green eyes glared at him as she slapped her hands on her hips. “Gee, I don’t know. I thought I could steal a few spark plugs or maybe even the air filter.”
Whew, talk about cranky! Without a word Mitch popped the hood and watched Melanie lean over to peer inside. His stomach dropped as his gaze followed her long legs to the white cuffed shorts that covered her shapely bottom. A tiny bit of skin peeked out between her waistline and the cropped red T-shirt she wore. He couldn’t stop staring.
“Hmm, distributor cap’s shot.” She turned her head to glance at him. “You need a mechanic.”
“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Stewart,” he said sarcastically. “I have already phoned one. He’s out sick.” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, he thought grumpily.
She shrugged and slammed the hood shut. Fortunately, she missed his knuckles by at least a millimeter.
“Okay, looks like you’ve got it covered.”
He frowned. Was that supposed to mean something?
“Want a lift?” she offered, bending to pick up a large woven bag and a small cooler. “I’m going to the beach, but I could drop you somewhere.”
Like in the river, he mused, well aware of her quick temper. Mitch decided he should not look a gift horse, or a gorgeous woman, in the mouth. Enough things had gone wrong today. Here was opportunity. Opportunity didn’t knock that often. He shouldn’t turn it down. Besides, she might invite him to share whatever was in that cooler, and he didn’t want to miss out on a decent meal.
Mitch assembled his features into his best hangdog look and muttered, “Well, I was going there, too, but now, with no wheels…” He asked deferentially, “Are you sure it would be okay?”
To his delight, she burst out laughing, her green eyes glinting in the sunshine. Seconds later they were hidden behind huge round sunglasses.
“You don’t do humble really well.” She giggled. “In fact, it’s downright pathetic.” She waved. “But I’ll take pity on you anyway. Come on. You can hitch with me for today.”
Mitch watched the animation flood her features as she laughed at him and thought how pretty she was when she wasn’t arguing with him. Of course, even then, with the light of battle turning her eyes that mossy color, Melanie still looked fantastic.
When she motioned to her old beater, his face dropped. Unfortunately, she noticed. Never missing a chance, Melanie poked fun at him.
“I know. It’s a step down for you.” She smirked. “But if you want to get to the beach today, this might be your only chance.”
Embarrassed, Mitch got in while trying to come up with an appropriate apology. When nothing remotely suitable surfaced, he glued his lips shut and studied the dilapidated vehicle.
She read his silence correctly.
“Don’t worry.” She laughed. “Everybody thinks Bessie is gonna give up the ghost, but she always keeps going.” Lovingly, Melanie patted the worn dashboard. “She’s got the innards of a true champion.”
“Champion what?” It wasn’t nice, but she didn’t take offence.
“She may not be pretty but at least she’s running,” she reminded him gently.
Mitchel tried not to stare as her shorts displayed those lovely long legs. He turned and stared straight ahead, trying not to ogle her. Sort of.
“Do you always go to the beach on Saturday?”
Good, Stewart, he congratulated himself. What a stimulating conversation!
“No, only in the summer, when I have time and it isn’t raining.” She laughed. “Other than that, I don’t bother much.”
Her curls were bound up in a ribbon on the top of her head. Mitch decided he’d like to undo that ribbon and run his fingers through the glowing silky mop.
“You are a smart aleck, you know that?” he muttered. His eyes