To Heal a Heart

Besides, the new apartment was too small to accommodate all her old junk. She could manage with rented furnishings for a while. By the time she could buy new, she’d have a better idea what style she really wanted, and instead of the hodgepodge collected over her twenty-six years she’d have a well-coordinated home.

Someone jostled her on the busy downtown street. Murmuring a brief apology, Piper looked up to make eye contact, but the woman strode on ahead without so much as acknowledging her. Piper shrugged and let her gaze slide forward again, only to halt at the sight of a familiar face. The man owning it stopped, too, a smile stretching his mouth as pedestrians darted around him. Piper smiled back, searching for a name.

“Mitch…”

“Sayer,” he supplied, angling his broad shoulders as he crossed the busy sidewalk. “Hello, Piper. It’s great to see you again.”

The man from the airplane. She could hardly believe it.

“Don’t tell me your office is around here.”

“Right there.” He gestured toward the black marble front of a nearby high-rise. “What about you? What brings you downtown?”

“The Medical Specialist Insurance Company,” she answered, glancing down the street in that direction. “Went to work there the day after I hit town.”

His smile widened even further. “That’s wonderful! Good for you.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at the clock mounted atop a pole on the corner, then at her wristwatch, which was running four minutes ahead. Uncertain which was correct, she knew that she had to move along. “Listen, I’ve got to get to work. Wouldn’t do to be late just a week to the day after I started.”

“Right. Okay, but could I ask you something real quick? You boarded the airplane ahead of me. Did you see anyone drop a small, folded sheet of paper—just around that little curve in the ramp?”

She considered a moment, but she really hadn’t been watching anyone else that day. Shaking her head, she answered him, “No, sorry, I didn’t.”

He nodded, huffing with disappointment, and slid his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I see. You wouldn’t know the names of anyone else on that flight, would you? I’d like to ask around, see if I can return this paper to the one who lost it.”

Again Piper shook her head. “I didn’t know a soul on that flight and didn’t really meet anyone but you.”

He smiled again. “Well, at least there’s that, huh?”

“Yes.” She returned his smile and started off down the street, knowing that she had to get moving again. “I’ve really got to go.”

“Sure.” He pivoted on his heel, watching her move away from him. “Maybe we’ll bump into one another again sometime,” he called after her.

She shrugged, lifting a hand in farewell, turned her gaze resolutely forward and hurried on, thinking how odd it was that the one person in this city whose name she actually knew should work just a couple blocks down the street from her. She didn’t quite know whether she should be pleased or worried about that. After all, Mitch Sayer was just a guy she’d met on an airplane. What did she really know about him? He could turn out to be some kind of crazed stalker or something.

God, she thought, don’t let this be some sort of problem. Don’t let me… The prayer died in her mind.

She didn’t even know what to ask for, what to worry about. Every concern seemed trivial and useless now, and she’d had a lot of trouble talking to God lately. She wasn’t sure what that was about, but she realized that she really ought to be looking for a church soon. Surely that would rectify the situation. It was just a matter of time, then, time and adjustment.

Stifling a sigh, she lifted her chin and lengthened her stride, determined afresh to make this decision work, to build a new life for herself away from the pain of the past. As far as she could see, she really had no other option.

Mitch watched Piper Wynne’s compact form making its way down the busy sidewalk. Wearing serviceable pumps, a neat, navy blue skirt and short plaid jacket, she practically marched at double time toward her place of employment. Either she liked the job, was worried about her performance, or really wanted to get away from him. He hoped it wasn’t the latter, because he absolutely hoped to see her again, to get to know her a little better.

It had been so long since he’d pursued such a course that he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, but he figured he could probably muddle his way through, given the opportunity. He didn’t really expect much to come of it. They might not have anything in common, might not like each other at all if they got better acquainted, but it was time to move forward again in his life. He might as well start with the pretty little strawberry blonde who’d sparked his interest for the first time in a very long while.

He turned, finally, and moved toward his own building, thinking how pleased his parents would be when he told them that he’d seen her again. He’d been too busy to stop by their place lately, but he was going to drop in soon to show them the letter and get their take on it. On the other hand, they might read too much into what had actually been a very brief meeting. Maybe he should just wait and see what happened before he mentioned encountering Piper Wynne on the street.

He couldn’t help thinking, though, that it was some coincidence that in a city of this size they should wind up working right down the street from each other—not that he actually believed in coincidences. To his mind, it was no accident that he’d run into her again, just as it was no accident that he’d come across that letter that day. Accidents and coincidence were for those who didn’t know the Lord or trust in His ways.

Mitch wholeheartedly believed that God controlled the events of a life yielded to Him, so if he were meant to get to know Piper Wynne better, the opportunity to do so would come when the time was right. Likewise, if he were meant to find the owner of that letter, God would show him how to do it and why. Meanwhile, he had clients waiting.

He practically skipped into the building, ready to face the day.

Vernon Sayer laid aside the single, creased sheet of notepaper and reached for his pipe, removing it from his mouth in a prelude to speech. First, however, he cleared his throat. The poignancy of the letter had affected him as much as it had his wife.

“They’ve obviously lost someone dear to them, perhaps a son or even a father.”

“It’s so sad,” Marian added, shaking her head to emphasize the words.

“And you may be right that there is a higher purpose here,” Vernon went on, shifting his large, blocky body, “but I don’t think you can really blame yourself for not acting sooner, Mitch. What could you have done? Stood up in the middle of the flight and announced you’d found a letter suggesting that someone was running away from grief?” He shook his head sagely. “No, this has to play out another way or not at all.”

Mitch sat forward on the comfortable overstuffed couch that matched his father’s easy chair and clasped his hands, forearms braced upon his knees. He was well aware of the physical traits that he shared with his father. To Mitch, looking at Vernon was like looking at his own future face. He found comfort in the character that he saw there, the laugh lines that fanned out from the corners of his intelligent eyes and carved deep grooves of his dimples. Even the leathery, beard-coarsened cheeks spoke of masculine strength, a natural counterpart to his mother’s feminine softness, both physically and emotionally. With her comfortable roundness, the thick, gray coil of her hair and naturally enthusiastic concern, Marian was the epitome of everyone’s favorite teacher.

“What would you suggest?” he asked of them both. “Where is there to go from here?”

“We will certainly pray about it,” Marian put in, but Vernon always took the more pragmatic approach.

“Why don’t I run this by Craig Adler? He’s just been promoted to some sort of vice presidency at the airline. He might have some ideas.”

Mitch straightened in surprise. “Is Mr. Adler still working? I thought he retired some time ago.”

Vernon chuckled and stuck his pipe into the corner of his mouth, speaking around it. “They’ll have to blast old Craig out of his chair and take him straight from there to the morgue.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Craig doesn’t have any reason to want to stay home and take it easy.”

Mitch ducked his head smiling at the not-so-subtle hint. Craig Adler’s wife had divorced him nearly twenty years ago, and the experience had so soured him on marriage that he’d remained single. Apparently he’d devoted his life to work ever since. The implication, of course, was that Mitch, too, was in danger of making that same mistake. Obviously he was right to keep mum about meeting Piper again, Mitch deduced. No telling what they’d make of that.

Mitch got his sudden smile under control, looked his dad in the eye and said, “Can’t hurt to run it by him, and meanwhile I’ll follow Mom’s advice.” Since she was sitting right next to him, he patted her on the knee.

“Your father didn’t mean anything by that last remark,” she assured him.

“Yes, I did,” Vernon instantly refuted. “Mitch works too much. If he’s really interested in finding someone to spend his life with, then he’s going to have to cut back on his hours. You said it yourself.”

“I also said we should keep our opinions to ourselves,” she scolded benignly, shaking a finger at him.

He gave her a droll look over the bowl of his pipe. ‘You’ve been married to me long enough to know better than that.”

She rolled her eyes, saw that Mitch was trying not to laugh and threw up her hands. “So I have, you meddling old mother hen.”

Vernon clamped the pipe stem between his teeth, looked at his son and quipped, “Ah, the joys of married life.”

Mitch laughed at them both. His father grinned unrepentantly while Marian folded her arms in a mock huff. “If it makes you feel any better,” he heard himself saying, “I saw her again.” So much for keeping quiet.

“Her?” Vernon echoed, forehead beetling.

Marian clasped her hands together. “The girl on the plane! The one with the pretty name.”

“Piper Wynne,” Mitch confirmed. “Turns out she works just down the street from me, but that’s all I know about her. And that’s all I have to say on the subject.”

“For now,” Vernon qualified with a flourish of his pipe. “Well, well,” he mused, inserting the stem between his lips again.