Second Chance Dad by Roxanne Rustand Page A

folder in front of her, in obvious dismissal and Sophie started to rise untilGrace stopped her with a pensive, troubled look. “Is something wrong?”
    â€œWhen Paul left for the summer, he said he was thinking about applying for a physical therapy teaching position over at the University of Minnesota. He wasn’t sure if he’d be back here or not.”
    Sophie’s heart stumbled. “You were going to find funding for a second therapy position if he did come back, right?”
    â€œThat’s what I said, and I’m working on it. But as you know, funding is being cut everywhere in the county right now. I’ll keep you posted, though.”
    The concern in Grace’s eyes wasn’t reassuring at all. “Thanks for letting me know. I guess maybe I should start looking at other options?”
    â€œNot yet—if Paul returns and there’s any way we can swing the budget, I don’t want to risk losing someone like you. Give it until mid-July, and I should know more, okay? I’m already working on a proposal to present to the County Board, to show the cost-benefit of having another therapist on staff. If nothing else, dollar signs ought to impress them.”
    At her car, Sophie paused for a moment, her hand on the door handle.
    She’d figured Grace wanted to express concern about Josh’s phone message, and that it would be easy enough to reassure her about the man’s change of heart. But the meeting hadn’t really been about that at all.
    It had been a subtle warning about the future; one that was now completely out of Sophie’s hands.
    And all she could do now was pray.
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    When Josh agreed, despite his misgivings, to let Eli and Sophie come over so the boy could “help” with the Harley, he’d expected a one time deal, but the child’s rapt attention and infectious enthusiasm had somehow led to another visit, and then another. Now, two weeks later, he and his mother had been over four times.
    Between that and Sophie’s visits for his physical therapy, Josh found himself looking forward to seeing her with ever-growing anticipation…even more, now that his appointments had dropped to just Mondays and Wednesdays.
    In another two weeks, they’d be over altogether, and the thought of facing the lonely, empty walls of the cabin without her breezing in on a regular basis already filled him with a sense of loss.
    Now, she looked up from reading the latest doctor’s order in his chart and smiled.
    â€œSo let’s see that journal,” she said. “Are you keeping up with your longhand entries?”
    He had, but it was the last thing he wanted her to see up close and personal.
    â€œCome on,” she teased. “I won’t peek at the specific words you wrote. Honest. Just flip through thepages. This is therapy, remember? Dexterity. Fine motor control.”
    He lifted the journal from the table by the sofa and slowly ruffled through the pages.
    â€œAre you noticing any difference?”
    â€œI think so.” But it was more than just increased strength in his hands and improved dexterity. He’d started out with morose, self-absorbed entries of a paragraph or two, but as time went on, he’d drifted into much longer passages about the last three years, as well as his hopes and dreams for the future. The plans for…
    â€œFrom what I can see, the penmanship is really improving, and you must be more comfortable because you’re writing longer entries every day.”
    â€œSo do I get an A?”
    â€œDefinitely.” She glanced over his chart and her recent progress notes. “On all counts, really. You’ve really done well. So tell me, doc, what are your plans for the next six months? Do you plan to go back to work in Chicago?”
    â€œNo.”
    She frowned. “So…you’ll just stay here?”
    The subject of his return to medicine had come up before, but he’d always