A Hopeful Heart and A Home, a Heart, A Husband: A Hopeful Heart

“Well, how was I s’posed to know that?” The young woman had shifted from cranky to defiant, her lip curling with disgust. Suddenly, Melanie was tired of the whole thing.

“I guess you would actually have to talk to her, like a real person, and then let her talk back to find it out,” she answered acidly, unwilling to go over the same material again.

Melanie knew she was venting some of her foul mood on the trainee, but Jessica deserved it. She would have dumped on Mitchel Stewart, too, if he had been around. He had been at the bottom of a lot of her problems lately!

She waved Jessica away tiredly as she raked a hand through her disheveled curls. Her secretary walked in with a cup of coffee and a commiserating smile.

“What happened to decency and courtesy, Bridget?” She sipped a mouthful of the refreshing brew and closed her eyes. When there was no response, Melanie opened them again. The woman just kept watching her. What now? she wondered.

“I’m sorry, Mel, but Mr. Northrup is slipping away fast. Hospital phoned to say you should come over if you want to talk to him once more.”

Melanie got up immediately and moved to the door. Jonathan Northrup had been at Sunset even longer than she had. He had been her inspiration and hope for so long. It would be hard to say goodbye. The only consolation was that they both knew they’d meet again in heaven. Still, it would be tough. She straightened her backbone and strode down the hall, not really hearing Bridget’s voice as she gathered her thoughts.

“Mel, there’s some fellow from Papa John’s Peanut Butter wants to see you immediately. He’s at the front desk.”

The last few words were hollered at Melanie’s disappearing figure. She need not have bothered, Bridget thought. She knew Melanie Stewart had her priorities straight. And Jonathan Northrup was certainly more important than some silly contest!

Half an hour later, Melanie closed the big hospital door. He was gone. Serene to the end, Jonathan had given her his final bit of advice.

“You have to get out and live, my dear. Old folks are selfish and depressing sometimes, and much as we enjoy all your efforts, you have to look after yourself. One day you’ll find a man who, if you let him, can give you so much.” He had stopped for a painful, wheezing breath. “Make sure you have enough left of yourself to give back. That’s all I ask.” His frail, veined hand had clasped hers one last time.

“Enjoy your life, my dear. You’ve given me so much happiness. See you in heaven.”

“Yes, in heaven.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but Melanie dashed it away angrily. She would not cry. Jonathan wouldn’t have wanted it.

A deep voice spoke from behind her left shoulder.

“Are you all right, Melanie?”

Turning, Melanie found Mitch’s tall, elegantly dressed figure behind her. He looked very handsome in his navy blue pinstriped suit, but it was his eyes that drew her. Dark and searching, they probed deep within, sharing her sorrow.

“He was someone special, wasn’t he?” he asked softly as his arm moved across her shoulder. His hand was gently soothing on her back, and suddenly Melanie gave way.

Turning into his arms, she put her head on his shoulder and bawled like a baby.

“Oh, Mitch. He was my best friend.”

He let her cry out her loss and feelings without saying anything. And as she cried, Melanie felt the stress and sadness slowly drain away.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the snowy white handkerchief he pulled from his pocket to wipe her eyes. She knew she had smudged her mascara, and her eyes must look like a raccoon’s, but Mitch never said a word. Gently, he took the fabric from her and completed the cleanup himself before stuffing the square into his pocket.

Then he tipped her face to look at his.

“Have you time for a coffee?” he asked. “I need to talk to you.”

His voice was so serious that Melanie stared at him for a minute before nodding.

“I suppose I can. I’ll just tell Bridget I’ll be in the cafeteria.”

“Actually, I thought maybe we could go outside for some privacy.” He pointed to a carafe and two cups. “And she already knows.”

Shrugging, Melanie accepted his outstretched hand and walked to the patio that nestled on a tiny bit of green lawn between the hospital and the nursing home. There were lounge chairs spread around, and she sank gratefully into one in the sun. She needed the warm sunshine and light to banish her gloomy feelings.

When Mitch handed her the steaming cup, his fingers brushed hers, and Melanie felt the sparks his touch always caused in her body. She watched as his intelligent blue eyes studied her face carefully before he sank into a chair.

“Okay,” he began, dark eyes probing hers. “I know my timing stinks, but I guess the best way to tell you this is to just get it over with.”

Melanie watched his chest expand as he sucked in a lungful of air. A wave of foreboding hung over her. What now, she wondered.

He began.

“A rep from Papa John’s was in to the office to see me today.” His blue eyes bored into her. “From what I understand, they were also here to see you,” he told her sourly. “Apparently they have come to some decision regarding their grand prize.” Mitch’s face was flushed, and he fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably.

“Say it,” she ordered, gripping the armrests. When he didn’t speak, she answered for herself. “I don’t win, do I?”

“Melanie, just listen to me for—”

She ignored his pleading. All her grand ideas, all her plans. She felt her dreams dissolving around her.

“I thought it was probably too good to be true. After all, I don’t even use their product. How could I possibly endorse it?” She turned to him, eyes glittering. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Melanie, can you be quiet for once?” The usually calm, deep voice was hard and strident. “Just let me speak, would you?”

Pursing her lips, Melanie leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. Her soft curls flopped across her cheek, but she was too angry to notice.

Mitch, however, noticed. He noticed only too well.

Thoughts of their evening together flooded his mind until he could almost feel her in his arms, feel her silky hair against his cheek, taste her soft mouth.

Shaking his head sharply, Mitch ignored the heat that was building in his brain and forced himself to concentrate on getting this right. It would not be easy.

“Melanie, they have both our entries now. And the home address you put on yours seems to be my apartment. Number 108. The winner lives at number 108.” He waited for her to assimilate the information. When she said nothing, he tried again.

“I said—”

She stopped him immediately.

“I’m not a child, Mitch. I know what it means. It means I don’t win, right?”

Her reddish gold head was tilted to the sun. As he watched, a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

“Not exactly,” he told her.

She studied him curiously, intrigued by his mysterious manner. When he said nothing, she punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Explain.” She gave the command with all the imperious demands of royalty. He smiled at her dictatorial tone.

“I, er, I kind of told them that we lived in the same building. That, uh, we were roommates. Well, almost.”