Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (37 page)

“Labs?” Anne asked.

Marta nodded. “Tox screen came back negative. Blood alcohol negative. Glucose six hundred.”

Anne shook her head. “Thanks, Marta. Tell Nelson we need insulin dosing ASAP.”

“Done. He's on the way.”

“You're good,” Anne commented.

“I sit at the feet of the master.” Marta quietly chuckled as Anne slipped back into the room.

“Claire, has anyone ever told you that you're diabetic?”

“I don't know what that is.”

“You haven't been to the doctor recently?”

“No. There's nothing wrong with me. I never get sick.”

“Phone for you, Anne,” Juanita called from the open doorway.

Anne stood.

“No. Don't go.” Claire voice was laced with panic and she reached out a hand to stop Anne, her fingers clinging to the scrub shirttail.

Juanita lifted her brows.

“I'll be right back. I promise.” Anne held the girl's hand for a moment and smiled.

“She likes you,” Juanita said, confusion in her eyes as she glanced from the bed to Anne.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence there, pal,” Anne returned.

“The kids usually bond with Marta. She's the mothering type. That's all I'm saying.”

Anne's head swiveled to Juanita. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, boss. I just meant...”

“This one has been through a rough time. I can relate. She reminds me of myself at her age.”

“Now you're going to try to tell me that you were a kid once?” Juanita asked with a teasing grin.

“You're a real hoot today, aren't you?”

“Every day. All part of my job description.”

Anne washed her hands and followed Juanita down the hall. “Can you call up to Pediatrics for a bed? Nelson will no doubt admit her until her glucose levels are stable. Her name is Claire Griffin.”

“Will do. Any luck contacting a responsible party?” Juanita asked when they stopped at reception. She nodded her head toward her computer. “Insurance information would be real nice.”

“All I have so far is the name.” Anne grabbed the blinking phone on the counter. “Matson, here.”

“Anne, it's Sam. I just had a call from a Delia Seville. She's hysterical. Says her husband is in the ER. She doesn't have any transportation to hospital, and on top of that, her friend's little girl is missing. Apparently, Mrs. Seville was babysitting.”

“Seville? One of the two men from the construction accident is Manny Seville. We admitted him.”

“Was the other guy Matthew Clark? First Construction?”

“Yes. He's still here. Right now he's in Orthopedics being evaluated. Why?”

“I think that's his little girl I brought in. The Seville woman says she was with a black Lab.”

Anne nearly gasped aloud.

Matt has a daughter?

“Anne? You still there?”

“Yes. Sorry. Sam. The girl's name is Claire Griffin.”

“That's her.”

“I'll have someone notify Matthew Clark.”

“Thanks. I'm going to give Mrs. Seville and her baby a ride to the hospital.”

“Her husband's stable. Tell her that. And thanks, Sam.” Anne put down the phone.

Matt has a daughter?
Her mind played the words over and over. Well, what did she expect? That his life was going to stop when she walked out on him?

She turned to Juanita. “I've got a responsible party to sign your insurance paperwork on that little girl.”

“Thank you.” Juanita's eyes lit up.

“Matthew Clark. He's still upstairs. Tell him we have his daughter down here and get him to sign the permission to treat while you're at it.”

Juanita shook her head. “Aw, now you're going to ruin my day. Do not tell me that man has another wife.”

“Another wife?”

“Besides you, I mean.”

Anne could feel her facing warming. “I don't know anything about Mr. Clark, Juanita, but I feel confident you're going to find out.”

“You know me too well.” She scooped her clipboard off the desk and headed toward the elevators.

Anne gripped the counter and turned to stare at the wall. She did the math.
A nine-year-old daughter.

That would be shortly after her aunt had had the marriage annulled and transferred her from the University of Denver to Washington State to finish her degree.

She'd spent the better part of three years completely heartbroken but unwilling to defy her aunt. Her sole guardian.

Aunt Lily had warned her that a future with Matthew Clark was building her house on unstable ground. He was a penniless student with no prospects. Love, she'd claimed, was fleeting, especially when there was no money in the bank.

All these years, and her aunt had been proved correct. Anne had mistaken what she and Matt had had for love. Clearly he had no such illusions and had moved on with his life quickly enough, as though their love had never existed.

* * *

Matt stood in the door of his daughter's room, resting his weight on his new aluminum crutches.

“Mr. Clark, you're just in time,” the nurse who stood at Claire's bed said. “I'm Megan Jansen, the diabetic nurse educator.”

He bit back a surge of pain as he moved into the room and shook her hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a quick glance down at his ankle in the plastic support boot.

He nodded. Yeah, he was okay. Glad to have dodged the need for surgery, but a badly sprained ankle requiring a walking boot and crutches wasn't what he had expected when he'd rolled out of bed this morning.

“We were about to go over the use of the meter,” Megan said with a soothing tone. “I've got a warm washcloth to clean Claire's hand and stimulate the flow of blood to her finger.”

“I don't want to,” Claire responded. She forcibly tugged her hand away and turned her head toward the window.

“We can't discharge you until you or your father demonstrates the ability to use the meter and administer the injections.”

“
He
can do it,” Claire said. The words were a sullen accusation, as though Matt had added yet another heap of misery into her young life.

Matt feared she was right.

Across the room, Megan Jansen's gaze pleaded with Matt to intervene.

“Claire, we want you to get better,” Matt said.

“There's nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.”

The nurse stood and moved her equipment to the bedside table. “I think it's time for your father to try. The sooner we get this done and get you home, the better.”

“He's not my father and I don't have a home...” Claire's voice trailed off and her eyes filled with moisture.

Matt's gut clenched. Could he blame her? Claire's world had been turned upside down in the past month. She'd gone from living with her mother in Denver one day to living with a man she didn't know the next.

Confusion registered on the nurse's face as she looked at him. “I thought you were her father.”

“I am—”

“I want Anne,” Claire interrupted with a pitiful wail.

“Anne?” Megan asked, her gaze moving from Claire to him, her brow furrowed yet again.

“Claire, who is Anne?” Matt asked, as a prickle of apprehension swept over him. Surely she didn't mean...

“That nurse,” his daughter answered.

“From the emergency room?” he asked.

“The ER nursing supervisor,” Megan clarified.

“She's the supervisor?” he countered.

“Yes.” She glanced at her watch and nodded toward the door, indicating he should follow.

Matt hobbled outside the room right behind her.

“Why is she asking for Anne?” Megan asked.

“I have no idea. Claire was admitted while I was in X-ray.”

“You know she's off duty now, right?”

Matt could only nod and raise a palm. What was he supposed to do now?

“My mother is a very close friend of Anne's. I can call her. She'll try to get in touch with—”

“No. I can't... I can't bother her.” Especially not after his lousy attitude in the exam room.

“I think you'd better.” Megan paused. “What other choice do you have?”

“Why tonight? Can't we wait until morning? After the doctor checks on her? Claire's spending the night anyhow.”

“Anne might not even be scheduled to work tomorrow. I think it would be prudent for me to at least have my mother call her.”

“But you said I could do the injections and testing.”

“Look, Mr. Clark, unless you plan to be with Claire twenty-four-seven, she needs to participate in her own care. Sure, I can okay her discharge, but that won't help you or Claire in the long run. Your daughter has provided us with an option, and if Anne's presence will engage her, well, then...” She raised her shoulders and stared pointedly at him. “You should be willing to try this route.”

He glanced from the nurse through the doorway to his daughter. Claire's eyes were closed in an attempt to block out the world. He felt like doing the same thing right about now.

Instead he fought back his pride and battled against the humiliation of the thought of inviting Anne Matson into his spectacular failure of a life as a new father.

Matt took a deep breath. “Okay. If it will help Claire. Yeah. Go ahead and ask your mother to get in touch with Anne.”

Megan left and he moved back into the room to stand at the window and stare out at the Paradise skyline. Clear blue skies, dotted with clouds, stretched as far as he could see. In the distance, mountain peaks hovered at the edge, guarding the small mountain community.

As a child he had looked out windows at the very same view. Always asking the same questions he was asking now.
Where are you in all this, Lord?
He silently prayed.
Are you listening?

How had he come full circle back to the one place on the planet where he felt so vulnerable? Paradise Valley.

He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. Seemed everything had gone from good to messed up; his business, his friend Manny and even Claire. Now he was about to be challenged further. He was about to welcome the woman who'd once destroyed him back into his life. The woman was virtually a stranger to his daughter, yet Claire had chosen Anne over him to support her during this crisis. How was that for irony?

CHAPTER THREE

A
nne pulled into her driveway and sat in her pickup, staring at the house and mustering the energy to climb the steps while desperately grasping for a peace she didn't feel.

Normally she could count on separating her two worlds by the time she had driven home. The sight of the two-story Victorian home signaled the boundary line as she put the day job behind her. The house calmed her, no matter the crisis in the Paradise ER.

But for the first time in her life
calm
was out of the question. Seeing Matt Clark and meeting his daughter had knocked her world into chaos and she didn't like it one bit. Her life had an orderly precision and she blamed the past intruding on her present for today being completely out of control.

She began to pray under her breath while staring at the lovely building in front of her. It had wide steps that led to a cherry-red door topped with a stained-glass transom. The siding was painted dark cream with sea-foam-green accents. Scalloped cedar trimmed the second story, always reminding Anne of a gingerbread house. On the left was a small turret room that rose above the second floor.

This year she'd had the entire house repainted. Next summer's goal was refurbishing the back deck. With a house that was over one hundred years old, there was always something that needed repair.

This particular home was the only connection she had left to family. And that family was only her great-aunt Lily.

Lately Anne never knew what to expect when she arrived home. Sometimes it was the dynamic and formidable Aunt Lily of Anne's childhood, other days her aging great-aunt was disoriented, showing more and more indications of the insidious Alzheimer's disease. Their roles had somehow become reversed. Now Anne found herself the caregiver for the woman who'd taken her in as an orphan some twenty years ago.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting back the questioning resentment that simmered just below the surface as her mind continued to race with thoughts and mental images of Matt and Claire.

For the first time since all those years ago she began to question the choices that were made for her when she was eighteen.

Ten years ago Lily had told her that education, a career and the independence to make her own choices was the important thing. Deep down inside she feared her aunt had been wrong. Those may have been the right choices for Lily Gray, but had they been the right choices for Anne Matson?

And if not, wasn't it too late to do anything about it anyhow?

When the front door swung open and her aunt stepped outside and waved, urging her out of the truck, Anne did a double-take. She quickly reached for her leather tote and climbed out of the vehicle.

“Aunt Lily, is everything okay? Where's your walker?”

“Oh, I don't need that thing.” Petite and trim, her aunt gripped the rail tightly and held herself up with dignity. She always wore a dress, no matter the day or hour, looking for all the world like the queen of the manor.

“Okay,” Anne answered slowly. She glanced past her aunt to the open doorway. “And you aren't wearing your alert necklace.”

“That's for people who might fall. I'm fine.”

“And your aide?”

Lily shared a satisfied grin and ran a hand through her silver curls. “I sent her home. For good.”

There was a challenge in her aunt's words and Anne wasn't going to feed into it.

Yet, despite herself, a groan of frustration slipped from her lips. Sometimes her aunt Lily bamboozled her caregivers into thinking she didn't need help and sent them home. Other times she simply fired them on the spot. Once again Anne would need to call the staffing agency.

She walked up the drive to the porch, her steps weary. “Why did you fire your aide?”

“That woman makes me have uncharitable thoughts. I can tell you that the good Lord would not be happy with that.”

“Aunt Lily. You know her replacement will be here tomorrow.” She moved up the cement steps and placed a kiss on her aunt's forehead.

Lily offered a satisfied smile. “Oh no, dear. Not tomorrow. They can't get another one until Monday at the earliest. I already called for you.”

“You called?”

Lily nodded.

“Tomorrow is Friday. I have to work. I can't stay home.”

“You work too much. You and I could play hooky tomorrow.” Lily wiggled her brows suggestively.

Anne ushered her aunt into the house ahead of her. “I can't do that.”

“Of course you can. You never call in sick. You never take a day off. Why, I imagine you have enough vacation time accumulated to take a trip around the world.”

Lily suddenly swayed and Anne reached out to grab her arm. “Where's your walker?”

“Oh, phooey.”

“Aunt Lily?”

“It's in the hall closet.”

Anne pulled open the closet door and slid out the walker, placing it squarely in front of her aunt.

“You know I'm still your elder,” Lily stated.

“I know that, Aunt Lily. I also know that I love you and I don't want you to get hurt. Please use your walker.”

Lily released a huff of disgust.

When the house phone rang, Anne reached around her aunt to grab the receiver, grateful for the reprieve.

“Anne. Oh, good. I tried your cell and you didn't answer.”

“Marta. Sorry. When I get outside Paradise town limits there are pockets where I get absolutely no signal. What's up?”

“Megan called me.”

“Your daughter? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. She was assigned as diabetic nurse instructor for your patient.”

“What patient?”

“That little girl. Claire.”

“Oh?” Anne moved to the dining room and dropped her bag on the floor. “Is she okay? Is her father still there?

“Oh, yes, Mr. Hunky has been at her bedside since you left. She's stable but she refuses to learn how to use the monitor or anything. Megan asked me to call you.”

“I don't understand. Why would Claire ask for me?”

“You made some kind of impression on the kid. Frankly, Meg is a little concerned about the home environment. Apparently the girl lost her mother and really doesn't know her father. Social Services is asking us to assist on this one. After all, she was found on a park bench. Maybe you could check things out.”

“I'm confused. How does Meg expect me to evaluate the situation?”

“Diabetic instruction. Didn't I say that?”

“No, you didn't.”

“Sorry. Let me start over.” Marta gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “The endocrinologist has agreed to discharge tomorrow afternoon if Claire's blood glucose levels continue to improve, but only if you agree to assist with diabetic instruction.”

“
What
? Marta! Me? I'm not even sure I'll be in tomorrow.” Anne pushed back her bangs. “We've got some caregiver issues here with my aunt again.”

“Well...” Marta hesitated. “They could go to your house.”

“That's crazy. They can't come here.”

“Company?” Her aunt chirped from behind her. “I'd love to have company. The rose garden is so beautiful this time of year. We could have a picnic. Tell them yes, Anne.”

“Aunt Lily, isn't it time for your game show?” Anne inched farther into the dining room.

“So it's a little unconventional,” Marta continued. “But this is Paradise. We don't do things the same way they do in the big city. You said so yourself, remember?”

“Of course, I did. I'm always saying things that will come back to haunt me.” Anne was silent, her gaze following her aunt, who had settled into a favorite recliner.

“This isn't about Matthew Clark, is it?” Marta said quietly. “Because if it is, I think you should put your feelings for him aside.”

Feelings? Did she have feelings for the man? She'd barely touched the surface of sorting through her emotions after running into Matt. The entire day had been simply exhausting; that was the only feeling she was sure of.

“Are you still there?”

“I'm here, Marta.”

“What happened between you two is in the past, isn't it?”

Anne sighed. The past. A wonderful place where she'd like to hide right now.

Instead she turned away from the living room and whispered into the phone. “Absolutely, and I couldn't agree more. I was very young and, yes, that was a long time ago.”

“Then it shouldn't be a problem, right?”

Anne became silent. Should it be a problem? No. She could be a professional and handle the situation. But would her aunt remember Matt after all these years? And if she did, would she say something inappropriate, embarrassing or humiliating for both Anne and Matt?

That scenario seemed highly unlikely with Lily's current state of mental health. In all probability she wouldn't remember Matt at all. Still, everything inside Anne screamed that this was a bad idea. At very least it would be awkward. Anne couldn't help but be nervous about the possibilities for disaster.

“Are you there?” Marta asked.

“Yes.” She paused again. “I'm thinking.”

“Think about this. Claire Griffin is a motherless little girl with an emotional hole in her heart. She's reaching out to you.”

“Oh, that's not fair,” Anne murmured through the lump in her throat.

“Perhaps. But it's the absolute truth.”

“Marta, I just don't...” She took a deep breath. “The situation is all kinds of impossible.”

“Forgive me if I'm out of line here, Anne, but if Claire's father can humble himself to ask you for help, then I think you should consider doing the same.”

“I hate it when you're right.”

“That's what friends are for.”

Anne sighed loudly. “Okay. Fine. Take me off the schedule for tomorrow and give Matt Clark a call.”

“Thank you.”

“I should pray that I don't regret this,” Anne muttered into the receiver. “But I already do.”

* * *

“Claire, we leave in ten minutes,” Matt called upstairs.

As usual, there wasn't a single sound in response to his announcement. The two of them lived in the little cottage, yet all he ever heard was the echo of his own voice and Stanley's occasional barking.

Matt glanced at the clock. After Claire's discharge, he had agreed to let her come home to shower and change clothes before they headed to Anne's. That might have been a tactical error since he knew very little about how long it took young girls to shower and dress.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and typed a few more items onto his already-lengthy virtual grocery list. When he pulled open the door of the fridge and rested against the appliance, he could only shake his head. A lonely foil-covered casserole greeted him.

The nurse educator had laid out Claire's nutritional needs. Apparently the haphazard meal plans he'd been providing up to now weren't exactly going to win him any awards for father of the year. It's wasn't as though he'd had a childhood of healthy eating habits to draw upon.

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.