Missy Tippens - Her Unlikely Family

He was coming to the same conclusion himself, but didn’t have to like the fact. Michael nodded to the man. “Thank you, sir. Sorry to have caused you any trouble this evening.”

“No trouble at all. Added a little excitement to an otherwise boring night.”

Michael’s night had been far from boring. And what now? Waiting in his car were two indignant females.

“For the last time, no,” Lisa said.

Michael sat across Josie’s coffee table—actually it was an old crate painted bright yellow—from his niece. They were at a standoff. He had said come home, she’d said no. Repeatedly.

There seemed to be no middle ground. And he was exhausted.

Against all odds, when they had arrived back at Josie’s house, she had invited him in to talk to Lisa. Since he had survived the ride home without any violent outbursts, he had assumed Lisa had settled down and would be reasonable.

Apparently, she hadn’t, and wouldn’t. Out of desperation, he said, “Your grandmother said to tell you that you need to be back in school.”

With a little snort and sarcastic laugh, she said, “Oh, okay. Then give me five minutes to pack.” Of course she made no move to cooperate. As she sulked, slouching in a tattered blue recliner, he studied the room. It was clean, but definitely not tidy. The decor was modern thrift shop.

Then he noticed the walls. It seemed every inch of space was covered by the most eclectic collection of framed prints he’d ever seen. Watercolors, oils, photographs. Landscapes, flowers, portraits, posters, strange and unidentifiable—

“Here’s your Coke,” the art collector herself said as she walked into the room from the kitchen.

He pulled his attention away from the weird sketch. Except for that particular one, he rather liked the feel of the room.

She handed him his drink. “I see you’ve been admiring my artwork.”

He glanced at her sheepishly. “Yes.”

“Just so you know, every piece has sentimental value.”

“Really?

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, eyes sparking.

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“You can’t believe I have such a hodgepodge hung up all over the place.”

“No, actually—”

“You don’t have to deny it, Uncle Michael. I could see it on your face, too.” With her forefinger, Lisa pushed up the tip of her nose. “All the Throckmortons are such snobs.”

“Lisa, don’t talk to your uncle that way,” Josie said.

Michael stopped with the can halfway to his lips. The spit-fire waitress was full of surprises. He would have expected her to agree.

Lisa appeared as surprised as he was. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side, Josie.”

“I’m not taking sides at all. You just need to learn to respect your uncle.” She sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Michael. “Now, have you two solved anything?”

“No,” he said. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

Josie kicked off her work shoes and wiggled her stockinged toes. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Go for it,” Lisa said. “Anything that’ll help him see I’m never going back to that awful school where the teachers try to make us cookie-cutter copies of each other.”

He pointed his finger at Lisa. “They’re trying to make you, at a minimum, fit for polite society.”

“Mike, talking like that isn’t going to help one bit,” Josie warned.

Lisa grinned as if she’d won the skirmish. But he knew Josie was right.

“Speaking of the school…” Josie said. “Has Lisa told you about the kids mistreating her?”

“She claimed some girls on her floor have spread outrageous rumors about her. But I know their families and find it highly unlikely.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Maybe the girl that informed you of the situation misunderstood. Or maybe you misunderstood.”

“I’m not hard of hearing, and neither is she.”

“I’m just saying you may be looking for trouble where there is none. Maybe you saw it as a means to manipulate me into giving you your way.”

Lisa jumped to her feet. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Michael shook his head and heaved a tired sigh. This conversation wasn’t progressing at all as he had hoped. “No. I’m just not sure what this has to do with anything. If you don’t like the girls, you simply avoid them.”

“Mike,” Josie said, “that might not be as easy as you think.”

“What’s hard about finding new friends?”

“Finding new friends?” Lisa’s face flushed in anger. “Are you a hundred years old, or somethin’? Don’t you remember how hard that is?” She appeared ready to turn on the tears again.

Not what he needed at the moment.

“You know, this has been a stressful night.” Josie refrained from blaming him. “You two haven’t accomplished anything, and I have to get up in less than five hours.”

“How long have you been residing here, Lisa?” he asked.

“Residing?” Lisa rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in exasperation. “Do you always have to talk like you’re a dictionary?”

Josie rose to her feet. “Okay, you two. We’re all testy. How about we meet tomorrow at the diner at ten-thirty, after the breakfast rush, and try this again? I’ll attempt to act as moderator.”

Lisa crossed her arms. “But—”

“That’s final.” With a clink-clink of silver jewelry, Josie pointed toward the bedrooms. “Lisa, good night.”

Without another word, Lisa marched down the hallway, her ragged-edged jeans dragging along the hardwood floor. Amazed that Josie had such control over the firebrand, he couldn’t help a twinge of admiration.

Though he hated to have to go through Josie to get to Lisa, at least now he knew Lisa was safe and had a roof over her head. He should be grateful to Josie for that much.

She took three steps to the front door and held it open for him.

He stepped out onto the front porch. “By the way, can you recommend a hotel?”

“You’re not going to find the Ritz.”

“I don’t expect the Ritz.”

“No?” She attempted a tired smile. “Go right at the end of my street. Once you hit the main road, take a left. The Comfy Inn’s on the right. I know the owner. She’s a fanatic about cleanliness.”

Apparently, Josie was starting to know him as well as she knew Lisa. “Sounds perfect.” He put his hands in his pockets and inspected his shoes. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

She shrugged. “No harm done to me. You ought to be apologizing to your niece.”

“I’ll try. If she’ll even listen.”

Josie gave a quiet laugh. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

“I also owe you a debt of gratitude. For taking care of Lisa. I’ve worried where she might be resid—” He glanced across the room where she had disappeared. “…Where she might be staying.”

Josie smiled, and he sucked in a breath. This time her smile seemed genuine, not nervous or forced. And it really packed a punch.

“You’re welcome, Mike. I view it as part of my calling.”

“Your calling?”

“From God. To care for people like Jesus did.”

It was one thing to attend church regularly. Michael, himself, did that. But hearing God call you to take in runaways? “I see. Well, good night.”

As he drove past the row of tiny wood and stone houses, he pondered his options. Not only did he have to fight a teen who hated him, but he also had to deal with a woman who, because of a calling from God, might try to come between him and that teenager.

He wondered which one would prove the more worthy adversary.

He suspected the pink-haired waitress.

Josie crouched behind the counter restocking the to-go boxes and paper cups. The bell on the front door clanged as someone entered. It was almost time for Mike to arrive, and her pulse kicked up a notch.