Missy Tippens - Her Unlikely Family

Now here he was, a dismal failure at guardianship. He didn’t even know what kinds of things Lisa liked—other than outrageous hair color.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s leave before she sees us.”

As Josie and Mike sat in silence, stuck in traffic on the main drag, Josie prayed for Lisa and her uncle. It was as plain as an egg over-easy that Lisa craved his love and attention. But he was clueless. Clueless of her needs. Clueless about what to do to meet those needs.

Lord Jesus, give me wisdom. Help me know what to do to help the two of them. It seems that somehow, I could teach them how to relate. How to— “That’s it!”

“What?” Mike asked.

She pulled into the parking lot at the Comfy Inn and stopped next to Mike’s Beemer. “I have an idea.”

“Is that a good thing?” The skeptical look on his face was almost comical. And he couldn’t seem to get out of the car fast enough.

He came around to her window, and she grabbed the duct-taped window crank. After she spent an exhausting thirty seconds rolling it down, he said, “I guess I should ask what it is.”

“Look, Mike. I have a suggestion. An offer, really.”

“Okay.” There was that skeptical look again.

“Lisa needs you. And you need to get to know Lisa so you can be a better parent.”

“Guardian.”

“Parent. What’s so hard about admitting that you’re more than an uncle now?”

“You said you had an offer?”

“How about you plan to hang around for several days. I’ll try to get a few afternoons off to help you get to know your niece.”

“And what do I owe you in return?”

“Don’t start grabbing your wallet. I just want to help.”

“Like Jesus did.”

“Exactly!” She laughed with the sheer joy of finally getting a point across to him. But then she noticed his hands in his pockets and that he was studying his feet. “You don’t believe in God, do you?” she asked.

Though Michael was surprised she’d drawn such a conclusion, he immediately began to wonder about practicalities, such as how he would stay away from the bank for several more days. “Oh, I believe. I’m a Christian. It’s just that…well…” He checked his watch.

“Oooh,” she growled. “I forgot. You don’t have time for your niece.” She slung her arms in the air, setting off an alarm of jangling bracelets. “You’re hopeless, Mike.”

She backed up the car and squealed out of the motel lot. All because he’d looked at his watch.

Well, he couldn’t help that he had responsibilities. He had stockholders depending on him. And his family’s good name.

And Lisa, his conscience tried to tell him. He pushed the thought aside as he fumbled with the key to his room. When he finally unlocked the door, he stormed in and kicked the door shut behind him. He would check in with his brother at the office to see how the Mason account was going. Then he would know how much time he had left to persuade Lisa to go back to the boarding school.

He reached his secretary who put him through to Gary’s secretary. Finally, his brother picked up. “Hello, Michael. How’s Lisa?”

“She’s fine. Just not too happy to see me.”

Gary chuckled. “Did you really think she’d make it easy on you?”

With a deep sigh, and feeling older than his thirty-two years, he collapsed into a chair. “Do you think you and Dad could spare me for a couple more days? She’s refusing to come home.”

“I’d be glad to. You’ve got more important matters to take care of.”

Maybe Josie was right—he was hopeless. Because he would rather be dealing with fluctuating interest rates than with the fluctuating hormones of a teenager.

“So, are you managing okay?” Michael asked. There was a pause, and he began to fear the worst.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve never been happier.”

Happy? Michael had been challenged, fulfilled—and lately, suffocated—by the job. But it had been a while since he could claim he was happy. Probably not since the first year or two when he’d had his dad’s full attention and approval.

“Sounds like you’re handling things nicely, Gary. Just be sure to call me if Tom Mason needs anything. I think he’ll do his financing with us this time, then we’ll aim for the umbrella of all their business.”

“I promise, I won’t let you down big brother,” Gary said before he hung up.

Michael had a perfectly capable brother who didn’t need him. And a perfectly rebellious niece who did.

He clasped his hands behind his head.

Dear God, I know I haven’t spent enough time in prayer lately. I’ve felt cold inside since Patricia died and left me with Lisa to care for. Please give me guidance. I’m not used to having a living, breathing creature depending on me—not beyond a paycheck, anyway. Now Josie’s made this offer to help me get to know Lisa.

With interlocked fingers, he massaged the back of his neck where a dull throb pounded out the beat of his heart.

It galled him to think he could need the help of the infuriating woman. Who was she to tell him how to do anything? Why, he could buy—

He stopped, a sick ache gnawing at him.

Forgive me, Lord, for the sin of pride.

If he could only find some way to persuade Lisa to leave Gatlinburg, then he wouldn’t have to depend on Josie. God, help me do this Your way, not my own.

The shrill ring of the ancient motel phone jerked his head up. He stared at the rotary dial a moment, perplexed, as if God Himself were calling. Then he laughed at the ridiculousness of the notion and answered it. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry I told you you’re hopeless.”

Stunned to hear Josie on the line, he didn’t respond.

“I felt guilty all the way home. And I can’t concentrate on anything.”

He waited, a smile creeping up on him, to see how apologetic Josie could be.

“Mike, are you there?”

Amazingly, the sound of her voice cheered him, and something warm released inside him. “You’re having a nice conversation all by yourself.”

“Why, you smart-aleck, good-for-nothing—”

“I thought you were calling to be nice.”

She made that funny little growling sound again. The one she made when she got aggravated. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? God has been convicting me like crazy. I’m convinced He’s been urging me to call you. So here I am.”

The hairs on his arms prickled with chill bumps. “So what now?”

“My offer still stands. I’m willing to help you.”

“If you really wanted to help me, you’d talk Lisa into going home.”

“Not until you prove to me you’ll be a good father to that love-starved girl.”

Love-starved? A good father? It was enough to send him running the other direction.

But he had just asked God for guidance. Maybe He was providing it through Josie.

“Deal,” he said before he talked himself out of it.

“Deal?”

“Yes. You just promised to talk Lisa into going home with me if I learn to be a good…father.”

She remained silent.

“Josie?”

She sighed. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

He knew he’d accepted a deal she hadn’t meant to make. But despite the short time he’d known her, he was certain she would keep her word. Now he better understood why Lisa trusted Josie.

Out of the blue, his sister’s face flashed though his mind, jarring him to think rationally. He’d just agreed to learn to be a guardian, a protector—a father—to his niece.

He’d just agreed to the impossible.

Josie set a box of beads and tools on the end table, then grabbed her mug and inhaled the rich aroma of coffee. She exhaled all the stress of the day. After a tense twenty-four hours, she deserved this break, a chance to make a pair of earrings she’d recently designed.

As she curled up on the couch in her oldest sweatpants and sweatshirt, wet hair wrapped in a towel, satisfaction washed over her like the hot shower she’d just finished.

I’ve done what God asked me to do for Mike and Lisa. Nothing feels better.

Of course, she had no idea what the next step would be. But for now, all was well in the Miller household. She could enjoy the rest of her afternoon off and—

The doorbell rang. She was going to have to kill Lisa. “I’m coming,” she yelled, then groaned as she climbed out of her comfortable cocoon. So much for a peaceful afternoon.

She opened the door. “Lisa, if you forgot your key, I’m—”

Mike stood on the doorstep. “Looks like I interrupted.”

She held up her coffee mug. “Only the first relaxing moment I’ve had for myself in a week.”

“Oh. No big deal, then.”

“No big deal?” You big selfish jerk.

He smiled. A dangerous smile that sent her insides into a tailspin.

“Seriously, I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have called first.”

With a confused tug on her sweatshirt, she said, “Well, yeah. And remember it next time.”

He laughed. “You shouldn’t take life so seriously all the time. There is such a thing as kidding.”

“Don’t talk to me about being serious. Take a look in the mirror.”

“I’m the one who dropped by spontaneously, aren’t I?”

“You know, Mike, I never know what to expect from you.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. I guess you’re here to see Lisa.”

“I am. I thought we could start getting to know each other by having dinner out.”

“Good idea. But she’s not here yet.”

“She’s still at the studio with that artist?”

“I assume so.”

His eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t she be supervised?”

“She’s too old for me or you to be following her around.”

“I guess I do need to give her some room.”

“Room to make mistakes. To live and learn.”

After he sat on the couch, he spread his big hands over his knees. “I plan to help her avoid the mistakes her mother made.”

“Maybe your sister wouldn’t have made the big mistakes if she’d been allowed to make smaller ones along the way.”

Instead of replying, he leaned his forearms on his thighs and studied the floor as if it might hold the answer to all his problems.

Josie left him to his thoughts and went to remove the towel from her hair and to grab the hairbrush from the bathroom counter. She returned and plopped down in her favorite chair—the one that was so well worn she had trouble getting out of it sometimes. “I have no idea how your sister was raised. It’s just something to think about.”

“You may be right. We were all overprotective.”

As she brushed the tangles out of her matted hair, she watched the emotions play across Mike’s face. “I take it she was rebellious.”

“Always.”

“Did your parents pressure her to fit their mold? Like they’re pressuring Lisa?”

He thought for a minute. “No. But all three of us were expected to act like…well, Throckmortons.”

“Yep. Just like me.”

“Your parents expected you to act like a Throckmorton?” His mouth twitched in a near-smile, but he still looked sad.

She grinned back. “No, I didn’t have to reach such lofty ideals. I only had to be a mere Miller.”

“Ah. I see.”

“You know, you’d probably be surprised at how much your sister and I would have had in common.”

“But you turned out fine.” He shrugged. “Obviously, she didn’t.”

“So it’s been about a year since she died?”

“Yes.”

Her curiosity—and intuition—made her ask, “Were there unusual circumstances surrounding her death?”