Tina Radcliffe - Rocky Mountain Reunion

Nope. His only parent was an alcoholic and they usually didn’t worry much about the food pyramid. So here he was learning how to read nutrition labels and practice smart meal choices not only for his daughter but to set a good example, for himself.

Thankfully some of the women in town had felt sorry for him and brought by lasagna and a fresh tossed salad last night. The meal was the first home-cooked fare since his last invitation to Delia and Manny’s house. And the good news was that there were leftovers.

He hobbled across the room, careful not to bear weight on his injured ankle, and nearly stumbled into the table in the process. Disgusted with himself, he sank into the chair. It hurt, but he couldn’t rely on pain pills if he was going to drive.

Hopefully he’d be able to get things back on track by the end of the day. How things had gotten so off course in a mere twenty-four hours he wasn’t sure. God had led him to Paradise but at some point Matt had stopped listening.

There was no doubt his pride was his undoing. He had to admit that since the moment he’d landed the job in Paradise, he had hoped to run into Anne so he’d be able to show her and her aunt what a success he’d made of his life. In the scenario that ran through his mind, she’d walk away from their meeting bemoaning the fact that she’d left him.

Things hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected. Not by a long shot. Yes, he’d been prideful and disaster had ensued. Now he found himself humbled and reaching out to Anne, of all people, for help.

Why was it that it took him so long to realize that every single time he took a step out without God’s direction he fell flat on his face?

Matt felt Stanley’s concerned and baleful eyes locked on him. The dog nudged him with his nose.

“Good boy,” Matt crooned as he rubbed the animal’s head. The Lab’s tail began to rhythmically thump on the tiled floor. Matt dipped his hand into the biscuit jar on the table and offered one to the pooch.

Thank you, Lord, for Stanley. The dog had stuck by Claire when she’d gotten sick yesterday. Things could have been a lot worse if Stanley hadn’t been around.

So far the best thing he’d done since gaining custody of Claire was to bring Stanley into their lives. The rescue dog had been his idea, to give the little girl something to focus on besides her loss.

The plan had worked and in return the Lab had never left her side. He had taken better care of Claire than her own father. What did that say about his parenting skills? He hadn’t even picked up on the signs that something was wrong with his child.

Tonight was going to be another test. He had to wake her in the night to test her glucose levels with the meter. Could he handle that? What if he slept through the alarm? What if he forgot everything the nurse had taught him?

Claire’s life depended on him.

Diabetes. The diagnosis terrified him and he fought not to let her know how scared he was. She might go into diabetic ketoacidosis if her blood sugar got too high or, worse, if he had to actually use the glucagon kit the hospital had given them for low blood sugar.

He’d been through a lot of things in his life, but he’d only had himself to worry about. Now he was responsible for two people and it was a first for him.

Matt ran a hand through his hair and stared ahead, seeing his daughter’s face as she’d slept in the hospital bed. Her long hair spread on the pillow, she’d looked more like six years old than nearly ten.

Suddenly everything in his life shifted. The seriousness of Claire’s disease left him reeling. Nothing was more important than his daughter.

His daughter.

She’d lost her mother and now had to rely on a father she didn’t know. It hadn’t helped any that he had been out of the country for most of the past ten years. When he’d finally met Claire they were like strangers. The irony was that they were the only family they each had left.

Emotion choked him and he pushed aside the stack of diabetic literature on the table, fighting anger. Rage aimed at himself mostly, because there was no point in harboring a grudge against the woman who had kept his child a secret. He was as guilty as she was for their reckless act of impulsiveness. Claire was the one caught in the middle. She’d never known her father and now her mother was gone.

In the center of the table sat his Bible. He hadn’t touched it since church last Sunday. Matt pulled the soft, leather-covered book closer. When he flipped through the pages the bookmark tucked in the very middle stopped him. Of course he knew what he would find nestled next to Psalm 31: a photo of him and Anne on their wedding day. Some days the picture made him smile. Other days the pain remained unbearable.

Today he closed the book as quickly as he’d opened it.

He glanced at his watch again. “Five minutes, Claire.”

Stanley barked as Claire entered the kitchen a moment later.

Her face was unreadable and expressionless as usual. Damp brown hair fell in waves past her shoulders. She wore a pink hoodie and blue jeans. He could have dealt with anger and defiance. That had been his attitude du jour, growing up with an absentee mother and a drunken father. But this indifference? Matt had no idea how to reach through the wall she’d constructed. He was an adult and he was afraid of a nine-year-old.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her face a mask.

“To see your new friend, Anne.”

A tiny light flickered in her brown eyes. “The nurse?”

“Yes. I called and we’re going to her house for some diabetic instruction.”

Claire’s shoulders relaxed imperceptibly. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Matt nodded, realizing that he had done something right. That surprised him, though he wasn’t going to pat himself on the back just yet. One step at a time. That was his new motto.

Claire was pleased and that was a good thing.

“How about if you grab the testing supplies and then get Stanley into the truck for me?”

She nodded.

When they were settled, he punched Anne’s address into the GPS and they drove in silence toward the outskirts of Paradise, past Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery, the hardware store and several novelty shops. Pedestrian traffic was steady in the small town where giant planters of geraniums and trailing ivy decorated the sidewalks.

Summer brought tourists escaping the heat of Denver and Colorado Springs to the moderate-to-cool climate of the mountain town for fishing, hiking and other activities. The town was picturesque and quaint, nestled in the San Luis Valley with the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the north and the San Juan Mountains to the west.

As they started outside of town onto a rural road something began to click in Matt’s mental map. Anne lived on the other side of the lake. They’d met in college and he’d never actually been to her house, though he’d lived just a couple of miles northwest in the even smaller town of Four Forks. She’d never wanted him to meet her great-aunt, as though she’d suspected all along that her guardian would disapprove of their relationship.

That should have been his first red flag. But he’d been young and had thought that love conquered all—including his “wrong side of the tracks” background. Now he knew to listen to those warning flags as a spiritual first line of defense. Today the closer they got to Anne’s house the more his radar alarmed loud and clear.

He drove for a few miles following the directions on the GPS map, all the while watching for a location where he could safely pull off and onto the shoulder. Easing the truck to the right, he put on his emergency flashers.

“What are you doing?” Claire asked.

“Just checking something.” Matt reached into the backseat and pulled out the project plans. He carefully removed the sheath from the cardboard cylinder and unrolled the inner documents.