Cheryl Wyatt - Steadfast Soldier

Chloe grimaced but her eyes grinned. “Nice grip. You’ve got the hands of a hardworking man.”

A sliver of a smile creased the unaffected side of Ivan’s mouth. The scowl eased from his face and a twinkle dared to dance in his eyes.

Until Chloe reached for his affected hand. “Now let’s try the other one.”

Back came the scowl. “Don’t you read anything in that chart? My stroke made it so I can’t do the other one.”

She smiled sweetly. “Try.” She held his listless hand.

A grunt. More intent scowling. But no response from his hand.

“I know you don’t like dogs in your house. So go ahead. Squeeze and pretend you’re knocking me upside the noggin for bringing Midnight in here.” She winked.

Ivan blinked as though surprised by her candor, then bit back what might have been either the beginnings of a smile or a taunt, Chance couldn’t be certain which one.

Ivan’s wrist strained in effort, but his fingers didn’t move and his hand didn’t clench. His countenance fell. “Told ya! It’s no use. I’m a useless man.” He looked away.

Pain streaked through Chance. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg: Dad, don’t give up. Please don’t give up.

Compassion filled Chloe’s expression. “Try again, Ivan. Please.”

“Why? Got nothing other’n Chance left to live for. And he’d do fine without me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to have to do without you. So come on. Try.” She held her hand out closer to Ivan. They stared at each other in a state of silent stalemate.

Then fury flashed over Ivan’s face. He glared at Chloe’s outstretched hand and growled. Then he called her names that would have sent a weaker woman sobbing from the house. Jaw clenched, Chance pinched Ivan’s shoulder to get the message across to be respectful to the lady. “Dad, that’s quite enough.” Chance felt mortified.

But Chloe, serene, didn’t budge. After a moment, she knelt closer and whispered, “I think your late wife would want you to try. I know Chance does.” Chloe winked. “Think of all the beautiful grandbabies you have to look forward to in the future. They’d want you to try.”

At first, Ivan scowled again. But as her words finally seeped in, he blinked several times. Met Chance’s gaze, which had been reduced to pleading. Ivan’s face softened. With a quaky motion, Ivan brought his hand to hers. A clumsy tremor proved his attempt to squeeze with all his might.

“Not bad.” Chloe made notes on her paper, then stood.

“So, what do you think?” Fear streaked through Chance that Chloe would turn them away as clients.

Then reassurance sparkled like the gold in Chloe’s eyes as she met his gaze briefly before grinning at Ivan. “I think by the time Midnight and I get through with Ivan, he’ll be strong enough to pick us both up and toss us in the yard. With his affected arm.”

Relief rushed Chance at the confidence in her words.

Ivan sat straighter. “You saying the sooner I do my exercises, the sooner you and that oversize mutt’ll go away and not bother me anymore?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Chloe repositioned Ivan’s hand on a small towel from her bag. She rolled it, then secured it with tape and rested it on the table beside Ivan. “Curl your fingers around this. Squeeze whenever you think about it.”

“Only if I can think of pinching the nose off that mongrel pup so everybody’ll quit controlling my life.”

“Fair enough.” Chloe said a command to the dog, who’d been sitting obediently, stoic and watching.

At her command, Midnight lay down. He also switched from watching Chloe to watching Ivan while Chloe performed more physical, neurological and strength tests.

Ivan peered over his age-thickened nose at the dog and muttered something Chance couldn’t hear. Chloe looked like she might balk. Chance moved to intervene.

Subtly, Chloe shook her head at him. He paused.

His respect for her rose as he observed Chloe’s skill and bedside manner, especially in the glaring light of his father’s storm of stubbornness. She wasn’t asking him to do the assessment maneuvers. Nor demanding. Just not really giving Ivan the option to opt out. Smart girl. She’d pegged his difficult dad and his needs in a heartbeat.

Chance grinned. Maybe he liked this OT and her unconventional ways more than he cared to admit.

But if Ivan forbade the dog, they were done. There’d be nothing left to do except give up. Chance couldn’t do that. He eyed the Lab, now sleeping near Ivan’s feet. It’d take a miracle to get Dad to accept help from a supersize fur-ball that looked more like a small bull than a dog.

Chloe gathered her things and suggested a few exercises to Ivan that Chance doubted he’d do. The therapist smiled and started to say something to Chance until her vision again brushed past the books on the table. Her smile faded. “So which one of you is studying to be a pastor, you or Brock?”

Chance laughed. “Definitely not Brock.”

“That means you.” Not a question but a flat statement.

He nodded, observing her face as it seemed to harden a bit. She eyed her watch, bade them goodbye and headed for the door.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He watched her rush toward her car in a near-sprint that communicated her sudden need to flee—and not just from the impending bad weather.

Her speed birthed a concern in Chance that she might not intend to return, even though she had seemed to allude to the fact that she would.

He raised his gaze from Chloe to the darkening sky above the streets of Refuge, the town that claimed to live up to its name. Hopefully, in Ivan’s case, that’d be true because he hadn’t been happy about leaving St. Louis.

Chance braced his hand against the window, fingertips brushing remnants of blue in a changing sky whose only light seemed to be fading. Chance’s fingers stretched, reaching for the only bright spot left in what appeared to be an angry, brewing storm he felt was symbolic. Bright spots were few and far between these days, and storms were nothing new to Chance lately. His heart latched on to the one thing that had been his steadfast anchor in the worst waves.

Prayer.

His lifeline to the One who draped that sky above the earth like a protective dome that brought comfort in dark days. He’d been an avid skydiver before, but after the twin tragedies of losing Mom, followed quickly by Dad’s stroke, Chance spent even more time in the air. It made him feel closer to God and further from losing his mind in the midst of grief—grief that was trying to ground his soaring career and nix his newfound faith.

Chloe’s vivid style and expressive face traipsed across his mind. When the woman with the contagious smile and neon zest for life had entered his rental home, it’d been like the world had breathed a fresh breath of life back into the room.

“Lord, bring her back. And let her be running for shelter from the storm rather than fleeing from Dad’s stubbornness. He needs her help more than he’s capable of realizing right now. So do I, and I’m not too proud to admit it. Please don’t let her be changing her mind.”

If she was in her right mind, she’d change it, Chloe thought.

Two things wouldn’t let her: Compassion that had clutched her for this grief-stricken family. And the rays of hope lifting melancholy clouds from the younger man’s staggeringly handsome face when she’d made slight progress with his grumpy, stubborn dad.

His very noncompliant, curmudgeonly dad.

Yep, this case would definitely be a stretch. “But we’ve broken tougher barriers and overcome worse, huh, boy?”

She hadn’t intended to start seeing patients until she got her animal-assisted therapy program off the ground. But Mandy had asked for a favor, so she’d made an exception to do a free consult on Mr. Garrison. Mandy was the reason Chloe had received clearance to start a satellite clinic in Refuge, and she owed Mandy, a friend of the Garrisons.