Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (39 page)

“Fair enough,” he returned. “I'll hold you to that.”

Anne nodded. Of course he would, and maybe she did owe him that much, though she wasn't brave enough to admit he was right just yet.

* * *

Anne's words rang in Matt's ears as he moved cautiously on his crutches to the farthest area of the yard where Stanley sat at the base of a tree, watching a squirrel.

Isn't your daughter evidence that you closed the door on your past a long time ago?

She'd hit him right at his most vulnerable point. He shook his head. There was no way to adequately explain the pain he'd been in ten years ago without making his daughter's conception sound like a mistake.

And she wasn't a mistake.

Claire was a beautiful and unexpected blessing in his life. A gift he discovered much too late.

The only mistake was his turning from God in a moment of weakness. He'd thought that nothing else could sting worse than his own self-loathing. He was wrong. Anne had cut him to the core, making him forget for a minute that the Lord had long ago forgiven him for those particular sins.

He eased down onto one of the stone benches that had been placed strategically along the perimeter of the yard and next to overflowing urns of seasonal red and yellow flowers.

“Come on, buddy, leave the squirrel alone.”

Stanley whined and then turned away, only to bury his nose in a container of bright blossoms and nuzzle the blooms with his head.

“Yeah. Leave the flowers alone, too. Let's try not to get Anne any more irritated than we have to right now.”

Matt stood and hooked the leash to the dog's collar before gently urging the Lab toward the hard dirt path beyond the apple orchard.

They followed a well-used trail for a distance, Matt resting on his crutches at intervals until the lake came into view. His ankle ached, but he ignored the pain.

Leaning against a tree trunk, he gazed out through the thick perimeter of trees and untamed woodland brush at Paradise Lake. The area was a man-made oasis that had been created in the mountain town. The unexpected beauty stunned Matt every time he was here.

The water sparkled, almost effervescent in the July sun. A few homes had already been completed not far from the water's edge and boasted short piers and docks where small, colorful boats bobbed in the summer breeze.

To the left were boxy summer rental cabins and rustic condos that had been completed in the past few years.

Across the lake, construction had begun on the Paradise Lake Project, a small community of duplexes and cottages that would increase the tourist trade to Paradise and hopefully put his company on the local radar for even more future projects.

Construction equipment noise filled the normally quiet morning even though Manny, his partner and site boss, was still recovering in the Paradise Hospital.

Thinking about Manny, Matt pulled out his cell, punched in the familiar numbers and grinned when his longtime friend answered.

“When are they discharging you?” Matt asked.

“This afternoon, if I play nice. Delia says she'll let me come home if I promise not to scare her like that again.”

“How do you feel?”

“Good. It only hurts when I laugh. Those ribs will take a while to heal, but it's amazing what a blood transfusion will do for a guy. I feel like a new man.”

“Right.” Matt chuckled. “I want you to take it easy. I've got everything under control.”

“Sure. I heard. You approved overtime for Saturday. What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking that we've got to make up the lost time from yesterday while the weather is good.”

“Think we'll still come in under budget?” Manny asked.

“If we can get things rolling on the road construction, we'll be looking good.”

“So how's Claire? Delia feels really bad about what happened. She figures you're really mad at her.”

“Wasn't Delia's fault. In fact everything worked out for the good. Claire is getting the care she needs and we're on track to managing her disease.”

“What's the plan?”

“She's with the nurse now,” Matt said.

“So you're still at the hospital?”

“No, but don't ask me where I am. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Matt turned around to look at the path behind him. “I'm at Anne Matson's house.”

Manny sputtered and coughed. “Whoa. What is this, some sort of cruel joke? Cruel for you, at least.”

“I wish. She's working with Claire. Diabetic education. Teaching her about her glucose monitor and insulin, and her diet.”

“Anne is a nurse?”

“Yeah. Claire met her in the ER yesterday.”

“How come I didn't see her?”

“You were out of it until they moved you upstairs to a room. Claire pretty much held me hostage on this situation. Anne or nothing. I didn't have a choice. She is one stubborn kid.”

“Not unlike her father.” Manny laughed. “The irony of this situation hasn't escaped me.”

“Me, either. Twenty-four hours later and my life has been turned upside down and Anne is right in the middle of everything again.”

“Matt, you don't still have feelings for her, do you? Come on, not seriously.”

“Two days ago I would have said no way. Today, things have changed and I don't know what I have.”

“Be careful. You really went off on the deep end last time Anne walked out of your life.”

“Don't remind me. Right now, I'm confused about everything.”

“You know the answer to that better than I do. Pray, buddy. Pray. That's the bottom line.”

“I will. And, Manny, there's one more thing.”

“What's that?”

“Anne's house. It's on the list.”

There was silence on the phone. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah. I pulled out the plans.”

“Does she know that we're doing the demo?”

“I'm guessing not. She hasn't said a thing and that makes no sense. It's as though she doesn't know what's going on.”

“You gotta tell her, then.”

“No way.” Matt ran a hand through his hair. “I can't be the bad guy in this scenario.”

“Tell her. It's not your fault. You didn't even know she was living in the house.”

“Think she's going to believe that?”

Manny muttered in Spanish and made a sound that registered his frustration. “This isn't going to end well, Matt. You know that.”

“Tell me about it. Everything seems easy when you're creating plans on paper, until you realize we're talking about destroying the home of someone you know. And you should see this place.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“All kinds of land that spreads forever and no fences. The house has got to be one hundred years old. It's a piece of history.”

“We can't change things now. The situation is all about time and money, and we haven't got a lot of either of those particular items.”

Matt released a breath. “I know. I know. It would take an act of God to fix this mess.”

“I don't rule that out for an answer. We'd better start praying.”

“You got that straight.”

“Uh-oh, Doc's here to give me a hard time,” Manny said. “He must have finished playing golf early.”

Matt heard Manny's good-natured laughter and an exchange of voices. Disconnecting, he slid his phone into a pocket and walked slowly back to the house with Stanley by his side.

He shook his head as he crossed the lawn with the Lab at his side. Manny was right. This wasn't going to end well.

A soft breeze stirred the summer air and a young girl's laughter reached Matt from the house ahead.

Claire.

He'd never heard his daughter laugh before.

Gripping his crutches, he stood very still, humbled by the sound.

“Merciful Lord, forgive me for my mistakes. I turn everything over to You. I want to make my daughter happy, Lord.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“A
nne, did you remember to pick up my cookies at Patti Jo's?”

“You must have smelled me coming, Aunt Lily. I have them right here.” Anne placed the white box on the end table in the living room. “And how could you think I could I forget? You've gotten two large cookies from Patti Jo's Café and Bakery every Tuesday since the shop opened six years ago. She was finishing up a wedding cake when I went in.”

“Oh? For whose wedding?”

“I don't know, but you should have seen the cake. It was like something out of a magazine. Beautiful sugar flowers decorated the outside. And the inside had a layer of lemon.”

“Sounds lovely. We can have her make one exactly like it for your wedding.”

“My wedding?” Anne chuckled. “Am I getting married?”

“Soon enough, dear. Soon enough.”

Anne shook her head and dismissed the comment. “Oh, Patti Jo said to tell you they were freshly made this morning, and she put extra chocolate chips in just for you.”

“Isn't she a dear?”

“Yes. She is.”

It didn't take much to make her aunt happy. Sitting in her favorite chair, surrounded by her favorite things, was all she wanted. She required so little of Anne, and had given so much to her for twenty-some years. The few times Anne was nagged by regret for her solitary life, she pushed the thoughts away.

While her aunt was distracted by the cookies, Anne moved quietly to the stack of mail on the table. Sifting the obvious junk mail to the bottom, she briefly skimmed the utility statement. More bills. She thought she'd paid everything for the month already.

With her aunt's pension and her salary, they were making ends meet. Though there certainly wasn't much left over, except for needed house repair. She pulled out an official-looking envelope sent by certified mail and turned it over.

Aunt Lily had signed for the letter, but hadn't opened it. That was odd. The return address was the Town of Paradise administrative building. Slipping her fingers beneath the edge, she tore open the letter.

The Town of Paradise wanted to...they wanted to buy the house?

Anne released a small panicked gasp as she continued to read. Her tongue became dry and she could barely swallow. When her knees wobbled, she sank into a dining-room chair.

Was this some sort of mistake?

A secondary road to the new lakeside development.

Construction would commence thirty days after she signed the release. If she failed to sign the release, the town would be forced take legal action. Development was good for the town, the letter pronounced.

Yes. She agreed. Of course. She loved Paradise. But her house? The house was her last thread to family.

Were improvements to the town also good for her and her aunt? Moving would only add to Lily's diminishing mental status.

She glanced around the dining room. How could anyone destroy this amazing beauty anyhow? Why, the kitchen had authentic punched-tin ceilings and oak cupboards. In every room the original architecture had been lovingly cared for. It was a house meant to stand for generations and generations.

What generations? You're the last of the family,
a small nagging voice in her head whispered.
You are it, Anne.

No matter. This was her home. Lily would be devastated.

She stared at the offer. It was decent, she supposed. Her gaze turned to the tall windows at the back of the dining room.

What about the rose garden? The roses themselves had been carefully tended by Lily, and now Anne, for more years than she could remember.

Across from the vine arbor, rows of fragrant vintage blooms exploded with vibrant color, their faces turned upward to greet the partial exposure of the afternoon sun. She silently repeated the names of each variety as she sought to calm her mounting panic.

Grandiflora, tea roses, English roses and damask roses...

It was a road. Couldn't they build the road somewhere else?

Question after question slammed into Anne.

Where would they live? Was there enough money for whatever they needed to do if they left this house?

Biting her lip, she stared at the stamped date on the letter.

Third and final notice?

How could that possibly be? What had happened to the first and second notices?

Anne turned to her aunt whose head bobbed with delight at the commercial for laundry soap.

Aunt Lily.

Some days Lily's mind was her worst enemy. One thing was clear. The new medications weren't helping her Alzheimer's.

Obviously her aunt was hiding mail again.

They'd lost a huge window of time and possibly the advantage.

A constant throbbing slammed against Anne's temples as the blood surged through veins, blurring her vision for a moment.

“Aunt Lily, I'm going out to cut roses.”

“All right, dear.”

Anne pushed out the French doors to the deck and sank into the wicker chair. At her feet was the cutting basket with shears and gloves. But instead of cutting roses, she read the rest of the letter over and over, again and again.

She reserved the right to appear at a meeting with the Paradise town council in two weeks to petition.

Her mind raced. The mayor. A call to his office might help. Yes, that's what she'd do. She glanced at her watch. Unfortunately it was well after business hours.

It was probably better to plead her case in person, anyhow. After all, Aunt Lily had sat on the town council as an elected member-at-large for a long time. Aunt Lily had once been the heart and soul of the community she'd gladly served. Shouldn't that count for something?

And what about the house itself? The Victorian was more than a century old. One of, if not, the oldest home in Paradise. A spark of hope stirred within her. Perhaps she could file for historic landmark preservation status?

Anne stood and paced back and forth across the faded planks of the deck, debating her options. Thirty days put her at the end of next month. This was the final notice and that deadline was moving toward her like a runaway train. One month to save the house. Could she do it?

If ever she needed divine intervention, the time was now.
Oh, Lord,
she whispered,
show me what to do next.

* * *

Matt checked his watch. He was early. Claire had spent the entire Saturday at the Gray home, by Lily Gray's invitation. Anne said to come by around 7:00 p.m. The timing was perfect, enabling him to work at the Paradise site and giving Claire a change from her usual routine.

The moment he opened the truck door, Stanley bounded out and raced toward the yard as though it was his own, sniffing and running around bushes and trees. Matt followed at a much slower pace, walking around the side to the back of the house.

“Anne, are you all right?” Claire's voice floated from the open window to the right of Matt.

“Hmm?”

“I keep talking to you and you don't answer.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry. I was thinking. Sometimes I do that when I have a lot on my mind. My aunt always says I'm in my happy place.”

“Are you? Is everything okay?”

“I have a bit of a problem I'm trying to sort out. Actually, I need to just turn it over to God and let him take care of it.”

Matt froze. Had she gotten the final notice from the town of Paradise? His heart tripped into overtime as his loyalties began to divide on the battleground of his mind. Either way, his future was on the line, personally and professionally.

“My father says that, too,” Claire told her.

“Does he?”

“Last Friday he said he had a really big problem he was turning over to God.”

“Friday,” Anne murmured, her voice distracted. “So you didn't tell me how your week went, Claire.”

“It was good. I checked my glucose all day, every day, except in the night. My father did it while I was sleeping.”

“And you recorded the results in your journal?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Terrific. You're doing an amazing job, you know.”

“I am?”

“Absolutely. Remember how we talked about the insulin pump?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you think about moving to one in a couple of weeks? I think the doctor will approve since you're handling your diabetic care so well. That way you'll be fully trained and ready to go with it before school starts.”

“Okay. If you'll still help me.”

“Sure, I will.”

“Anne?”

“Yes?”

“Am I going to die from diabetes?”

Only silence filled the air. Matt held his breath, waiting for Anne's response.

“Why do you ask that?” Anne finally said. Her voice remained calm and professional. She was obviously skilled at dealing with emotionally charged questions.

“It's a disease and people die from diseases. My mom died from cancer and that's a disease.”

“Let me ask you something. If you were in a car and you started the engine and someone gave it a push down a hill would you be driving the car or would the car be driving you?”

“I guess the car would be driving me.”

“That's right.”

“And if you had your foot on the gas and your hands on the steering wheel. What then?”

Claire giggled. The sound made Matt smile.

“I would be driving the car.”

“Think of your diabetes that way. When you check your blood glucose levels and eat healthy, you're in charge and that's a good thing.”

“And I won't die?”

“You know we all die sometime.”

“Is Aunt Lily going to die?”

“Aunt Lily's health isn't as good as we'd like it to be.”

“Is she going to die?” Claire repeated.

“Someday.”

He heard his daughter's softly drawn sigh.

“That's why it's very important to tell people you care for them. Tell them all the time.”

“Do you do that?” Claire asked.

“I try to remember to.”

The refrigerator door closed.

“When is your father coming to get you?”

“Soon.”

“Do you think he'll be hungry or does he cook his own meals?”

“He doesn't really cook. But the church ladies keep bringing food over to our house.”

“Yes. I'm sure they do.” Anne gave a small chuckle. “Well, you made this chicken, and it's delicious. Do you want to take the leftovers home with you to share with your father?”

“Could I?”

“Of course. And you know what? We can keep a copy of the recipes you like in a notebook. So when we're done learning about your diabetes you'll have your own Claire cookbook to take home.”

“I like coming over to your house.”

“And I like having you.”

“May I come even if you don't need to teach me?”

“We're friends. Friends visit each other. You're welcome any time you like.”

“Do you like my father?”

Anne sputtering was the last thing Matt heard. He'd jerked back at Claire's words, triggering a domino effect.

His aluminum crutches slid from beneath his arms.

Matt groaned as the momentum propelled him forward. He crashed against the deck steps at the same moment that the crutches clattered loudly to the ground.

Seconds later the back door was pushed open and slammed against the house when first Anne and then Claire raced outside.

“Matt, are you okay?” Anne's dark eyes widened in concern as she knelt next to him.

“Other than total humiliation, I'm fine,” he muttered. He raised his head and his face warmed at the thought of the image he must have provided. To Anne's credit, she didn't even laugh, and he was grateful.

“Can I help you up?” she asked.

Claire grabbed his crutches as he rolled to his backside.

“I think I've got it.” He used the wooden rail to push to a standing position and then took his crutches from Claire. He nodded to his daughter. “Thanks.”

“What happened?” Anne asked.

“I guess I got distract—”

He looked up at Anne and froze. Though her dark hair was clipped back from her face, a strand had come loose and he nearly reached a hand to tuck it behind her ear. She was dressed down in jeans and a pink T-shirt with some sort of sports logo and, for a moment, he had an image of Anne in college those many years ago. Matt forced himself to look away.

The direction of his thoughts could only lead to setting himself up for pain once again.

He looked toward the backyard. “Is Stanley okay? Gotta keep an eye on that dog. He thinks he can run down to the lake if I turn my head.”

“He's running in circles chasing a butterfly. Stanley is fine. What about you?”

Matt straightened. “I'm good.”

“Your ankle? Maybe I should check it.”

“I'm good,” he repeated. The only thing injured was his pride and that wasn't any sort of new diagnosis.

“That step is sometimes a little wobbly. I'm sure that's what happened.”

“Or maybe I'm terminally clumsy.” He reached down to test the wooden step and sure enough one of the nails was loose on the right side. Matt looked up at Anne. “Good of you to give me an out.”

She smiled.

“Have you got a hammer?”

“I do. Right in the kitchen. I'll get it.”

He looked at Claire. “All ready to go?”

“I have to get the chicken and my bag.”

“Chicken?” Matt murmured.

Claire nodded and gave a shy smile as she went back into the house.

Anne returned with an assortment of hammers in her hands. Two claw hammers, a ball-peen and a crosshead-peen.

“One is all I need.”

“I know, but you didn't say which kind.”

He gave a small chuckle at her serious expression.

“What's so funny?” she asked. Her brows were knit in an annoyed frown.

Matt stilled, resisting the urge to tell her that he thought it was cute that she had so many hammers. No, it was best to keep things strictly business between them. Better for his peace of mind at least.