Getting to Know Him

Her heart beat faster with a desire to know more as she followed him through the old cottage, filled with comfortable, overstuffed furniture, and exquisitely real paintings of nature scenes covering the walls.  She glanced to her left and saw a big, long-haired dog curled up on the rug next to the chestnut-colored sofa.  The black and brown pup jumped off and bounded over to her, licking her hand as he rushed to greet her.  Mr. Love laughed, “Cherish, don’t overwhelm our guest with your enthusiasm.” 

Cherish sat down on the hardwood floor next to Fledgling and nuzzled her palm with his soft wet nose, trying to get her to pet him.  She was so drawn to this sweet dog that she knelt down and tenderly picked up his floppy ears.  She’d never had a pet and was actually a little scared of dogs.  But this one was so appealing; he wanted just to be friendly.  As she scratched behind his ear, he poked his nose at her cheek, then licked her.  She laughed, not in the least bit annoyed at his sloppy wet overture.

“Cherish came to me when he was a puppy.  I heard him crying outside the door and found him shivering, almost covered with snow in the middle of a blizzzard.  He’s been here ever since,” he explained softly, as that amazingly loving gaze fell over the happy, now well-fed and well-loved, very warm dog.

“My goodness,” Fledgling thought, “I’ve never been around so much affection!”  Her heart began to feel full in a way she’d never before experienced as she stood up to follow Mr. Love.

“Let’s go into my garden studio,” he encouraged, glancing back at her with those eyes overflowing with fondness for a complete stranger.

Ten steps later, she stopped in a doorway as he stood to the side, and gasped.  The room was filled with plants, some with gorgeous, colorful flowers and some with just bright-green and obviously healthy leaves climbing to the ceiling.  She didn’t see one dead leaf or flower anywhere—quite different from the wilting ones in her own home.  As she looked around the massive room, she began to see framed portraits.  Some were the size of a small book and others were as big as a dresser!  Even though the room was so huge, it was invisible from outside the front of the house because it jutted out at the back and was surrounded by forest—which gave the room an even more garden-feeling.  But even more than to the plants, Fledgling was drawn to the faces in the paintings.  There must have been hundreds of them in so many different sizes.  And they all had interesting expressions; some looked serious, some were laughing, some were just serenly smiling.  But all of them looked…what was it?  Hhhhmmm, the only word she could think of was content.  Wow, that was not a familiar feeling.

She walked over to one that especially caught her attention, and touched the frame with her small finger as she looked—mesmerized—at the face inside of it.  It was a young woman, quite beautiful, with a soft smile, olive-colored  eyes and curling tendrils of dark black curls framing her face.  “Who is this?” Fledgling’s voice was shaky—though she had no idea why—as she looked up at Mr. Love. 

He kneeled down on one knee next to her so he could be nearer to her line of sight—for Fledgling was quite short with a petite frame, much like her mother.  This giant of a man put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  She actually began to tremble with emotion as she felt his touch and looked more closely at the painting before her.  “What’s happening to me?” she wondered, dazed by everything she was feeling and seeing.

“That’s a young woman whom I see developing.  She’s actually not yet the age of the woman you see in the painting, much younger, in fact.  I just painted this from what I see she will become.”

Tears began to make little tracks down Fledgling’s cheeks.  “Why can’t I control these emotions—like I usually do?!”

Mr. Love’s hand felt so warm and comforting on her shoulder—much like she’d always thought her dad’s would feel—if he ever was around to embrace her or just sit with her.

Almost as if he was reading her mind, Mr. Love stood up and pointed to a mauve-colored rose-design chair.   “Would you like to sit down?” he asked tenderly.