Angela Hunt - A Time To Mend

She sighed and gazed out her kitchen window. At least she could go home at the end of the day. And in her cozy little house she could forget about Jonah Martin and enter the world of Craig Bishop. Compared to the unsettling Dr. Martin, Craig was as comfortable as an old slipper. And before saying goodbye when he called on Saturday night, Craig had promised that absolutely nothing would stand in the way of their Monday picnic. Jacquelyn looked forward to a lazy, sunlit day by the lake.

True to his word, Craig pulled into her driveway at 9:00 a.m. Though his mouth puckered in annoyance when Jacquelyn picked up Bailey’s leash and snapped it to the dog’s collar, he said nothing. Jacquelyn had adopted the dog from a mastiff rescue organization six months before, and she’d already grown closer to the animal than she would have ever dreamed possible. Sometimes, she told Craig as she picked up a water bowl from the kitchen sink, she felt like the huge puppy was almost human. He seemed to sense her moods, her feelings, and he was always there…which was, Jacquelyn reminded Craig, more than she could say about him.

“You know I have to work odd hours,” Craig said, throwing up a hand in defense.

“I understand, and I don’t mind,” Jacquelyn answered, winding the long leash into her palm. “But I like having someone around. And it’s not fair that we should go out while Bailey stays cooped up in the house all day.” Jacquelyn led the gentle giant out onto the front porch. “He won’t be a bit of trouble, Craig. He’ll probably just run around in the sun and then lie down for a nice, long nap.”

“Just bring a blanket to protect the car’s upholstery,” Craig said, sighing heavily as he followed her down the front porch steps. “I was hoping to sell this car tomorrow morning, but if you bring that dog, I’ll have to vacuum it tonight.”

“I know you well enough to know you’d vacuum it anyway, dog or no dog,” Jacquelyn said, opening the door of the sporty convertible. Bailey took one look at the small space that passed for a backseat, then turned questioning eyes toward his mistress. “It’s okay, puppy,” Jacquelyn murmured in soothing tones. She cast a devilish look toward Craig. “Uncle Craig won’t mind if you rest your chin on his shoulder.”

Craig shook his head, then turned back into the house. “Where do you keep those little hand towels?” he asked, taking the front steps two at a time. “I’m not wearing dog drool to my meeting tonight. Honestly, Jacquelyn, the things I endure for you…”

Jacquelyn reached in to pull the front seat forward, then urged Bailey into the car. When the huge dog had gingerly seated himself, Jacquelyn slid into the front passenger seat and made a face. “Well, this is cozy,” she murmured, noticing that she would be riding a scant five inches above the pavement. “I’ll never understand why men are so crazy about sports cars.”

Immediately, the image of Jonah Martin and his Mustang focused in her memory. His car wasn’t as sporty as this one, but the same macho tendency toward fast speeds and sleek lines must reside somewhere in his psyche. Thank goodness Craig’s personal car was a nice, safe, boxy something-or-other.

Craig appeared a moment later, a small towel draped neatly over his right shoulder. For an instant he looked like one of the harried fathers Jacquelyn used to see coming from the nursery at her church—babies on their arms, spit-up rags on their shoulders. The image suited Craig so poorly that she nearly laughed aloud. Craig Bishop wasn’t ready for children. He kept insisting he wasn’t ready for marriage, but Jacquelyn knew she could make him change his mind. After all, nine months ago when they met he had assured her that he had no time for a steady girlfriend, and within two dates he’d been calling her every night and sending flowers every weekend. The next steps—marriage and children—well, she’d sway him toward those things as easily as she’d persuaded him to allow Bailey to come along on the picnic.

Jacquelyn was in no hurry. At twenty-eight, she had already battled and defeated the “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” disappointment. She would marry when and if it pleased her, and she’d marry Craig or someone like him. Someone logical, efficient and charming. Someone who wouldn’t mind her career, her dog, or her aversion to cooking.

“All right, I think that takes care of everything.” Craig slipped into the driver’s seat and paused a moment to glare at Bailey, then shook his head again. “Jacquelyn, I’ll never understand how a rational woman can lose every shred of sanity when it comes to a dog—”

“The same way a man can lose all his reason when he adores a woman,” she answered sweetly. She placed a protective hand on Bailey’s collar. “And Bailey is not just any dog. He’s a mastiff. I researched the breed, I knew what I wanted, and then I adopted a dog that needed rescuing. I’ve waited four years to own a mastiff, and I haven’t regretted my decision for one instant.”

“Okay.” Craig held up his hands in a sign of truce, then put the keys into the ignition. “If he’s as good a dog as you say he is, I guess I can learn to live with him. But he’s your dog, Jacquelyn, not mine.”

The engine roared to life, and under the noise Jacquelyn’s heart hummed happily. Craig could learn to live with Bailey. So he’d actually thought about marriage. Jacquelyn had made it clear that she would never live with a man without being married and Craig seemed to respect her views. He knew her belief in God’s commands about sexual purity would not allow her to consider surrendering her body before vowing her life and love at the altar.

Maybe, she thought, relishing the feel of the wind in her hair as the car pulled out into the street, he’s planning to propose today. They had packed a romantic picnic for two, complete with flowers and a blanket. The CD player in the trunk was loaded with lush, romantic music….

She turned her face toward the street so Craig wouldn’t see the light of hope in her eyes. Her unfulfilled dreams were simple: she wanted a loving man to live in her house, children to fill the empty bedrooms, a promotion to supervising nurse at the clinic. All in good time, of course, but now was as good a time as any to begin.

Jacquelyn wrapped her hand in Bailey’s collar, loving the warmth of his fur against her skin and the solid dependability of the man at her side.

The future looked suddenly brighter than it had only a few hours before.

Craig drove with deft skill, slanting from one lane to the next, dodging the slow-moving holiday drivers. Winter Haven, the central Florida city where Jacquelyn had been born and raised, retained many of its small town qualities even as other neighboring communities mushroomed into tourist meccas under the influence of Disney World. Disney’s irresistible lure had brought quick money and rows of ticky-tacky motels to towns like St. Cloud and Kissimmee, but Winter Haven remained largely untouched and Jacquelyn was grateful for the city’s slower pace.

Over one hundred lakes lay within the area surrounding Winter Haven. She and Craig drove to Lake Silver, one of the larger lakes with a clean public beach. As Jacquelyn staked Bailey’s long lead into the ground, Craig dutifully spread the blanket over a shady spot beneath a sprawling oak. The dog’s chain was at least twenty-five feet long, long enough for the pup to play freely while keeping him safely within calling distance. Though Jacquelyn knew Bailey had the gentle temperament of a sleepy kitten, but the dog’s sheer size might intimidate anyone who passed by.

“Here you go, Bailey,” Jacquelyn said, setting a huge bowl of fresh water in a shaded spot. Bailey obediently trotted over, slurped up a drink and then looked at his mistress as if awaiting instructions.