Second Chance Dad (8 page)

W
hen Sophie walked into the Pine County Home Health Office on Monday morning, she expected trouble. And sure enough, she found a note from Grace Dearborn on the clipboard holding her printed schedule for the week.

With such a small staff, there were informal meetings on Friday mornings to discuss clients and concerns.

But this note requested an individual meeting, which meant Grace had probably received Josh's phone message and wasn't very happy.

Worrying at her lower lip, she gathered the equipment, supplies and charts that she would need for the day and stowed them in her duffel bag. Then she headed for Grace's corner office at the back.

As usual, the older woman appeared to be nearly buried in an avalanche of paperwork and file folders on her desk. She raised her eyebrows when Sophie
knocked lightly on her open door. “Come in, have a seat. Pardon the mess—I'm in the middle of writing grants to try to bring in more money for our programs.”

All but one chair was piled with folders, so Sophie took the empty chair closest to her desk.

Grace wearily closed the folder in front of her. “So, how is everything going?”

Since Grace regularly reviewed the client charts, which were kept here in the office when not checked out to someone making a home visit, and was always attentive at the Friday meetings, she probably had a very good idea. But Sophie quickly summarized the status of her current caseload anyway.

“I've been really pleased with your progress with Josh McLaren,” Grace said. “Six visits out at his place—which is five more than our last therapist managed.”

“He wasn't very cooperative at first, as you know. But he's doing well.”

“And yet he left a message for me, saying he was ending his therapy. Why?”

“He still has issues about his accident and the family he lost. He did tell me that he'd called you. But, he had second thoughts after I talked to him over the weekend.”

“He told you about the accident.”

“Not in great detail. Just that he feels guilty about
not avoiding a drunk driver, and believes he should have been able to save his pregnant wife.”

Grace nodded. “They were on vacation, celebrating her graduation from seminary earlier that month. Their car ended up in a ravine not far from here and burst into flames on impact. Josh was thrown from the car, but she was trapped inside.”

Sophie suddenly felt faint, imagining the horror. “He said…‘God didn't bother to step in to help.'”

“I imagine he's been wrestling with a lot of issues since then. The other driver was unhurt, though two people in his car died. Apparently he was still screaming at Josh when the highway patrol and ambulance arrived, throwing drunken accusations about how it had been Josh's fault. But the skid marks and damage on the cars proved otherwise.”

“That sounds like a nightmare.”

“Since he gave you some of the information, I thought you might want to know the rest. He's a troubled man, Sophie. He left his job at a hospital in Chicago and bought that secluded place far back in the timber, just wanting to be alone. I see a man who needs help, but hasn't been willing to accept it.”

“He did agree to continue seeing me. After some discussion, anyway.”

“Good, good. Do everything you can, Sophie.”

Grace reopened the folder in front of her, in obvious dismissal and Sophie started to rise until
Grace stopped her with a pensive, troubled look. “Is something wrong?”

“When Paul left for the summer, he said he was thinking about applying for a physical therapy teaching position over at the University of Minnesota. He wasn't sure if he'd be back here or not.”

Sophie's heart stumbled. “You were going to find funding for a second therapy position if he did come back, right?”

“That's what I said, and I'm working on it. But as you know, funding is being cut everywhere in the county right now. I'll keep you posted, though.”

The concern in Grace's eyes wasn't reassuring at all. “Thanks for letting me know. I guess maybe I should start looking at other options?”

“Not yet—if Paul returns and there's any way we can swing the budget, I don't want to risk losing someone like you. Give it until mid-July, and I should know more, okay? I'm already working on a proposal to present to the County Board, to show the cost-benefit of having another therapist on staff. If nothing else, dollar signs ought to impress them.”

At her car, Sophie paused for a moment, her hand on the door handle.

She'd figured Grace wanted to express concern about Josh's phone message, and that it would be easy enough to reassure her about the man's change of heart. But the meeting hadn't really been about that at all.

It had been a subtle warning about the future; one that was now completely out of Sophie's hands.

And all she could do now was pray.

 

When Josh agreed, despite his misgivings, to let Eli and Sophie come over so the boy could “help” with the Harley, he'd expected a one time deal, but the child's rapt attention and infectious enthusiasm had somehow led to another visit, and then another. Now, two weeks later, he and his mother had been over four times.

Between that and Sophie's visits for his physical therapy, Josh found himself looking forward to seeing her with ever-growing anticipation…even more, now that his appointments had dropped to just Mondays and Wednesdays.

In another two weeks, they'd be over altogether, and the thought of facing the lonely, empty walls of the cabin without her breezing in on a regular basis already filled him with a sense of loss.

Now, she looked up from reading the latest doctor's order in his chart and smiled.

“So let's see that journal,” she said. “Are you keeping up with your longhand entries?”

He had, but it was the last thing he wanted her to see up close and personal.

“Come on,” she teased. “I won't peek at the specific words you wrote. Honest. Just flip through the
pages. This is therapy, remember? Dexterity. Fine motor control.”

He lifted the journal from the table by the sofa and slowly ruffled through the pages.

“Are you noticing any difference?”

“I think so.” But it was more than just increased strength in his hands and improved dexterity. He'd started out with morose, self-absorbed entries of a paragraph or two, but as time went on, he'd drifted into much longer passages about the last three years, as well as his hopes and dreams for the future. The plans for…

“From what I can see, the penmanship is really improving, and you must be more comfortable because you're writing longer entries every day.”

“So do I get an A?”

“Definitely.” She glanced over his chart and her recent progress notes. “On all counts, really. You've really done well. So tell me, doc, what are your plans for the next six months? Do you plan to go back to work in Chicago?”

“No.”

She frowned. “So…you'll just stay here?”

The subject of his return to medicine had come up before, but he'd always evaded a direct answer.

On the night of his accident, he had railed against God and had cursed himself for his failures when Julia died in his arms despite his futile attempts to save her.

The guilt had come later, when he'd realized that though he'd loved her with all his heart, he'd always put his career before her.

Had she even been happy, with a husband who was never home? He'd never been unfaithful with another woman, but he'd cheated her of happiness all the same, and now there was nothing he could do to turn back the clock and give her the love and attention she'd deserved.

The day of her funeral, he'd sworn that he'd never practice again.

Until recently, returning in any capacity had been out of the question anyway, given his limited and painful mobility, back pain, and the significant impairment of his dominant hand. Now he wasn't so sure.

“But surely you won't give up medicine altogether.”

“Not exactly.”

“You could do so much good in this world. You could
help
people, not just hide away like this.” She glanced at the walls of his cabin—bare, except for the moose head—then turned back to him, and clearly tried to mask her concern. “You must have a mortgage. Expenses. What will you do?”

“I'm thinking.”

She was worried about his future, afraid he had nothing. Little did she know.

There was a massive insurance settlement—blood
money—sitting in multiple investment accounts under his name. Money that he would never touch for himself.

He had plans, though, that he wanted to implement in Julia's memory. And now that others were involved, perhaps those plans would actually come to pass.

“Well, we're done for today. On another note, Eli wants me to ask you to join us tomorrow evening for a Fourth of July picnic at my grandfather's house, and for the fireworks afterward. I told him you'd probably be busy, so don't hesitate to say no.”

“A picnic?”

“After I thought about it, I decided to ask all of my clients, since my dad and stepmom are out of town. Only Alberta is able to come thus far.” A hint of a blush climbed up into her cheeks. “Nothing fancy. I'm sure you're accustomed to much more. Come to think of it, you probably already have other plans.”

He could barely remember his old life anymore, when the holidays were occasions for family and celebrations, and happiness. “I'd like that.”

“Awesome. Eli will be thrilled.” She gathered her purse and duffel bag and started for the door, then turned. “Almost forgot. Gramps has the little blue house at the south end of Maple. You can't miss it.”

“What time?”

“We'll all be downtown for the Fourth of July
parade in the afternoon, if you want to join us. Otherwise, is six o'clock all right?”

He nodded.

“The city council sets off the fireworks out at the fairgrounds, so Gramps's backyard is actually the best place in town for seeing the fireworks.”

A parade. Picnic. Family gathering. The stuff of small town life that he'd never expected to experience again. Yet somehow, Sophie was managing to draw him back into the world again.

And with this offer of such simple pleasures, he felt her filling an even bigger place in his heart.

He'd begun to think about her too often. To wonder what she might say if he asked her out for something more formal than coffee on a Saturday morning or an estate auction. Their friendship was deepening. But even if she might say yes to a formal date, he knew better than to ask.

She had her life ahead of her. She deserved someone who could be a good dad for Eli and a loving, devoted husband.

And spending time with damaged goods like him would be just a waste of her time.

 

He'd been able to drive, before starting physical therapy. It had just been awkward and difficult, and generally not worth the effort. He hadn't had any reason to, other than a monthly run for groceries and
dog food or a trip to the quaint bookstore that backed up to the tumbling waters of Aspen Creek.

Now, on his way to Sophie's grandfather's house, he found himself cruising through town just to kill some time. Past Aspen Creek Books—his favorite haunt—and the new sporting goods store at the other end of the block, with its patriotic array of red, white and blue kayaks safety-chained to each other like a colorful bracelet, leaning up against the limestone block exterior.

Josh flexed his leg, testing the joint. How long had it been since he'd kayaked or canoed any of the beautiful Wisconsin rivers? His college days? Maybe Sophie and Eli…

He swiftly cut off
that
line of thought.

Stragglers were still flowing down the sidewalks from the downtown area, where the parade had ended a half hour ago, as he crossed Main and headed for Maple.

Several blocks down, the street ended in front of a small blue house with peeling paint and white shutters. Overflowing flowerbeds flanked the sidewalk and foundation of the house, but the grass was freshly mowed and the place was otherwise painfully neat.

There was no doubt about it being the correct address when Eli came running around the side of the house. “You came! You really came!”

Josh ruffled his thick dark hair. “I couldn't turn down an invitation like this one, buddy.”

“Mom's grilling hot dogs and hamburgers, so you're just in time. Gramps is here, but he's watching TV.” Eli fell in step beside him. “Mrs. Roberts came and she brought blueberry pie. Gramma Margie and Grandpa Dean won't come, but that's okay. Do you like fireworks?”

Josh laughed. “It's sure hard to keep up with you.”

The boy led him into the backyard, where Sophie stood at a gas grill flipping hamburgers and an older woman sat at a heavily laden picnic table covered with a red-checked cloth.

“Thanks for coming,” Sophie said. “I'm so glad you could join us.”

A moment later, an elderly man shuffled out of the house and eased his walker down the ramp at the side of the porch stairs.

Sophie made the introductions as she brought a heaping platter of hamburgers and hotdogs to the table. As soon as they all found a place at the table, she slipped into the place next to Josh and bowed her head. Everyone followed suit, and after a moment of hesitation, Josh did, too.

“Heavenly Father, thank You for bringing our family and friends together on this beautiful day, and thank You for the wonderful country we live in. Please keep those who couldn't be here safe and well, and bless this food. Amen.”

Platters of juicy, deep pink watermelon wedges,
and bowls of creamy yellow potato salad, cole slaw and baked beans loaded with bacon, ground beef and brown sugar traveled around the table.

Eli, seated on Josh's other side, looked up at him with a big smile. “My mom can make anything. She's the best cook
ever
.”