Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(35)
Cupid…The Good and Bad
Watching 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.
Once 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.
Lindsay knew she was in love. When she went to bed at night, it took hours to fall asleep because she couldn’t put the picture of Matthew out of her mind. When she finally slept, she dreamt of him. In some dreams they walked arm in arm through the park, or danced, or better yet kissed with a fervency that left beads of perspiration on her forehead when she awoke. But there were also other dreams, dreams where he turned away and strode into a room, closing the door behind him and leaving her on the outside. When that dream came, Lindsay awoke with her heart banging against her chest, and it took several minutes before she could convince herself that it was only a dream.
Mixed in with all her happiness, Lindsay held onto a tiny grain of doubt, a whisper of jealousy that reared its head when Barbara breezed by to spend the day with Matthew behind a closed door. Lindsay knew Barbara stood next to him just as she did, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times their hands touched. When Barbara brushed against his shoulder, did she feel the same magic Lindsay felt or was it simply a jostle, a meaningless collision of bodies? On Thursdays when she sat alone at the reception desk, thoughts of Phillip returned and picked at her brain. She hadn’t suspected Phillip was cheating on her, and yet... Her thoughts continued to meander back to the day when the truth of Phillip surfaced—it came like the blast of a shotgun, quick, hard and with a near deadly force—would it be the same with Matthew?
I know you’re thinking Lindsay is a foolish girl, but please realize these small bursts of doubt and jealousy are simply part of the mating dance. I assure you this situation will resolve itself—and, I might add, without any help from me.
On the second Thursday in November Barbara showed up forty-five minutes later than usual and she didn’t barrel through the door to head for the back room. Instead she slogged into the reception room with tears running down her cheeks and a stream of muddy water dripping from her clothes.
“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked.
Barbara shook her head no and continued to cry.
“What’s the matter?”
“My car…”
“Did you have an accident?”
Barbara shook her head a second time.
Lindsay found it virtually impossible to be envious of someone sobbing as Barbara was. She came from behind the reception desk and took a broken umbrella from the girl’s hands. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to get you dried off.” She pushed Barbara toward the washroom. “Get cleaned up,” she instructed. “I’ll find you something to wear.”
When Lindsay returned she had a set of blue scrubs that belonged to Matthew. “Put these on,” she said, “the pants are gonna be way too long, but just roll them up.”
Barbara did as she was told and as she stood there looking like a dwarf in a giant’s clothing, Lindsay noticed something she’d failed to notice before—a gold band circled the third finger of Barbara’s left hand. “You’re married?” she gasped.