Cupid's Christmas (16 page)

Even though Lindsay couldn’t argue with what Eleanor said, she also couldn’t help but wonder if Matthew still had thoughts of Brianna.

Eleanor had moved on to slicing peaches for tomorrow’s garden club luncheon when Lindsay turned back and asked, “What did she look like?”

“What did who look like?”

“Brianna. What did she look like?”

Eleanor laughed out loud. “Good gracious Lindsay, if that’s what you’re worrying about you can quit worrying. Brianna was eight years ago and Matthew’s dated a dozen different girls since then. He’s not thinking about—”

“But, what did she look like? Did she look like me?”

Eleanor shook her head. “Not at all.” She turned back to the peaches then added, “Brianna was six inches shorter than you and nowhere near as pretty.”

Lindsay came up behind Eleanor and hugged her.

The following Saturday night Lindsay and Matthew had their first date. She wore a black dress that was a bit snug in some spots and a smidgen low in others. He noticed immediately.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “A lot different than the lab coat.” He didn’t have to say anything more—the look in his eyes said it for him.

“I hope that means what I think it means,” Lindsay looked square into his eyes and this time she didn’t look away when the thirty seconds were up. That’s the rule—thirty seconds of eye-to-eye contact is flirtatious, anything more is an invitation—and that’s exactly what she intended it to be.

“I know you like Italian,” Matthew said nervously, “but there’s this wonderful little French Place in downtown Philly and I was thinking—”

Before he could finish the thought, she said, “I like French even better.”

On the drive to Philadelphia they spoke of many things—music, books, food, travel, childhood memories and mutual friends, but the topic of conversation that never surfaced was Matthew’s moved-to-Seattle-fiancé. Hopefully she was the past and this was an evening for new beginnings.     

Bistrot La Minette was everything Lindsay could wish for—cozy, intimate and full of charm. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.

“I thought you’d like it,” Matthew said, “I do too. It reminds me of Paris. Have you ever been there?”

Lindsay answered no and then asked if he had.

“Yes, twice,” he said.

Her tongue itched to ask who he’d been there with, but she bit back the words. Lindsay had always thought of Paris as a place for lovers and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken Brianna there. Before those thoughts could blossom, he spoke again…

“I spent the summer of my junior year in France. It was Mike Trent, two guys he knew from Duke and me. We backpacked from Provencal to Paris then stayed there for five days.”

“I’m so jealous,” she said jokingly, “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

As Lindsay toyed with the stem of her wine glass, he reached across the table and touched his hand to hers. His gesture was not one of those passing happenstances, it was deliberate to the point of being meaningful—it both asked and offered. She gave him a smile of acceptance. Across the candlelit table, Lindsay saw something she’d never noticed before—Matthew looked exactly like her father. He was so obviously a man with
principles
.

After dinner, they strolled through the park and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  She was tall and, whereas most men had to settle for holding hands or circling her waist, Matthew’s arm fit perfectly. It was hours past midnight when he kissed her goodnight and, by then, Lindsay knew she was falling in love.

Did you notice the POW moment? It was in the park when he put his arm around Lindsay. Yeah, yeah, I know—you expected a steamy love scene, right? Those romance novels will be the death of me. It’s never the way those books tell it, but humans go right on thinking it will be. That’s why a lot of them miss out on the beauty of what I give them. Panting, sweating and bodice-ripping are not my style. True love happens with the brush of an eyelash or the touch of a hand, it’s gentle and sweet, it tells a human I’m here and I’ll be here forever. Lust comes panting and sweating, it says I’m here Baby, but who knows where I’ll be tomorrow. Now which one would you really rather have?

I thought so.

I
n the light of morning, Lindsay began to think back on the evening and one troublesome thing kept picking at her mind. Who had Matthew taken to Paris the second time? It wouldn’t have been his buddies—guys do that once, but it’s not likely he’d return with them a second time. Paris was the city of love—it was a place for picnicking on the grass, strolling along the Seine and kissing under the Eifel Tower. She thought back to her first day on the job and the observation that Matthew resembled so many of the handsome men she’d dated. “Oh dear,” she groaned, “…maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is Phillip all over again.”

When she arrived at the breakfast table, Lindsay’s forehead was lined with worry.

“Did you and Matthew have a nice time last night?” Eleanor asked.

“Yes,” she answered, and left it at that.

“Is something wrong?” her father asked.

Lindsay again gave a one word answer, “No.”

“Well you look like something’s wrong,” he said, “If something’s wrong speak up—”

“Hush John, leave her alone,” Eleanor said. “Lindsay’s just tired this morning.”

Lindsay waited until he’d finished his eggs and gone off to read his newspaper in the den. But the moment he was out of sight, she turned to Eleanor and asked, “Did Matthew ever take Brianna to Paris?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Eleanor answered, “He took Gracie, and another time he went with some fellows from college, but I don’t know of—”

“Gracie?”

“Matthew’s mother. He took her for her fiftieth birthday and she said it was the finest trip she’s ever been on. I remember her saying, now that she’d seen Paris she could die a happy woman, and she did a year later.”

“She died?”

“Yes.” Eleanor’s eyes began to tear. “It broke my heart. She was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister and I surely did love her.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “Life gives and takes—it gave me a sister then took her away, it gave me a husband then took him too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lindsay said, wrapping her arms around the woman she once hated, “but now, you’ve got Dad, so maybe life is trying to make up for its mistakes.”

Eleanor squeezed a bit closer, “Honey,” she said, “Getting to know you has more than made up for the heartaches I’ve gone through.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she realized what she’d said— “Oops, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For calling you honey again.”

Lindsay laughed out loud. “You can call me honey, any old time you want to. As a matter of fact, I rather like it.”

A
h yes, as the saying goes—love makes the world go around. If only more humans could come to see that. Love is like marmalade, the more you spread it around the sweeter everything tastes. Did you notice when Lindsay started to fall in love with Matthew, Eleanor came along for the ride? That’s how love works. When humans are in love, they’re happy, when they’re happy, they’re sweeter.

I think it’s safe to say Eleanor’s problems with Lindsay are over, but unfortunately her problems with Ray are escalating rapidly.

Three times I had Traci come to bed in a flimsy little thing that should have gotten some reaction—but nothing. She asked him about the possibility of starting a family and he turned that idea down also. I was able to see what he was thinking that time and it was typical of someone with an axe to grind.

I’m out of ideas when it comes to Ray and asking Life Management for help is not an option. They’re not the least bit flexible about altering their event plan. I’m giving this two more weeks, and then I’m going to The Boss. Nothing’s impossible for him. Not even Ray.   

Cupid…The Good and Bad

W
atching humans fall is love is the best part of this job. In the early days, weeks, months and for the most fortunate ones—years, humans are at their shiny bright best. Time doesn’t lessen their love, but it changes the mating dance. What begins as a wild and passionate tango evolves into a waltz, with two bodies bending and moving together, whirling across the potholed landscape of life. After years of trial and error that waltz becomes a slow fox trot with smaller evenly matched steps and when one partner grows weary, they lean on their mate knowing they will be carried. This last dance may not be as exciting as the first, but I can assure you there’s true beauty in every step.

O
nce Lindsay discovered that Matthew had taken his mother to Paris she let go of the sack of what-ifs she’d been carrying around. Suddenly she could see clear as day—Matthew had tons of principles, more principles than a girl would ever need, perhaps even more than her father. 

On Saturday night, they went to the movies and stopped for pizza, and on Sunday they returned to Philadelphia for a visit to the aquarium. Lindsay was amazed to discover that things she’d seen dozens of times before were now brighter and more lively.

“They must have changed the lighting in here,” she exclaimed. “The fish seem so much more colorful.”

“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Matthew answered, then he snuggled her into the crook of his arm.

With his heart beating in harmony with hers, they stood and watched two grey sharks swim back and forth for nearly an hour. “Fascinating creatures aren’t they?” Matthew sighed.

“Uh-huh,” Lindsay replied and shouldered her way closer. 

On Monday Lindsay was up before the sun and already standing in front of the Kindness Animal Clinic when Matthew arrived to unlock the door. “I thought I’d check the appointment schedule and get that out of the way,” she said, “…then you can start teaching me how to work with dogs.”

“Good idea,” Matthew answered. He touched his finger to her face and tilted her chin upward as if he were about to kiss her. Lindsay waited, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and said, “Let’s get started.” As they worked, Lindsay stood alongside him in an examination room, seizing every opportunity to inch a bit closer or allow his hand to brush against hers.