Steadfast Soldier. Cheryl Wyatt

around Ivan’s neck. Ivan let him but grunted. Brock pretended not to notice. He tried to finish discreetly until Ivan skewered him with a glare.

      “On that note, I’ll let myself out. Good luck,” he said to Chloe and Chance and chuckled his way out the door.

      Chloe didn’t cringe at Brock’s rapid departure or cower under Ivan’s escalating disapproval and hollers, even though his pinched face shaded redder by the second.

      Ivan’s bulging eyes wrinkled at the corners and his nose squished up as he went nose to nose with Chloe. “What have you got stuck in your teeth there?”

      “Braces.”

      “Aren’t you too old for that?”

      She shrugged and bit back a grin. “Maybe.”

      Ivan scowled. “Ask me, it’s a waste of good money. My boy there’s got crooked teeth and he’s not bothered by it.”

      He wasn’t?

      True. He wasn’t.

      Until Chloe’s gaze fell on his mouth. His face heated again. “Au contraire, Dad. I h-have one tooth that doesn’t s-sit right. One.” Chance chuckled and held up a pointer finger.

      He also placed a clandestine hand on Ivan’s shoulder and prepared to squeeze if his manners bounced any further out of bounds. The stroke had definitely adversely affected his father’s cognitive and social judgment. Chance didn’t mind his dad taking pokes at him, but Ivan was picking on Chloe. Chance would intervene. “Dad, we have a lady present.”

      As Chance increased pressure of his hand, Ivan stared Chance down, then swerved his head back toward Chloe. “Say, how old are you anyway? You married? ’Cause my son here is not, and it’s about time he took the plunge.”

      Chance clamped his mouth shut and his hand tighter and tried not to laugh at the shocked look on Chloe’s face. He cast an apologetic glance her way while his dad prattled on.

      Undaunted other than a slight flush to her cheeks, Chloe calmly pulled a clipboard out and knelt in front of Ivan’s chair. She made a couple of adjustments on the footrest then reached for Ivan’s hand. “Squeeze for me?”

      Ivan scowled but squished her hand with his good one. Hard. Harder than Chance thought necessary.

      Chloe grimaced but her eyes grinned. “Nice grip. You’ve got the hands of a hardworking man.”

      A sliver of a smile creased the unaffected side of Ivan’s mouth. The scowl eased from his face and a twinkle dared to dance in his eyes.

      Until Chloe reached for his affected hand. “Now let’s try the other one.”

      Back came the scowl. “Don’t you read anything in that chart? My stroke made it so I can’t do the other one.”

      She smiled sweetly. “Try.” She held his listless hand.

      A grunt. More intent scowling. But no response from his hand.

      “I know you don’t like dogs in your house. So go ahead. Squeeze and pretend you’re knocking me upside the noggin for bringing Midnight in here.” She winked.

      Ivan blinked as though surprised by her candor, then bit back what might have been either the beginnings of a smile or a taunt, Chance couldn’t be certain which one.

      Ivan’s wrist strained in effort, but his fingers didn’t move and his hand didn’t clench. His countenance fell. “Told ya! It’s no use. I’m a useless man.” He looked away.

      Pain streaked through Chance. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg: Dad, don’t give up. Please don’t give up.

      Compassion filled Chloe’s expression. “Try again, Ivan. Please.”

      “Why? Got nothing other’n Chance left to live for. And he’d do fine without me.”

      “I’m sure he doesn’t want to have to do without you. So come on. Try.” She held her hand out closer to Ivan. They stared at each other in a state of silent stalemate.

      Then fury flashed over Ivan’s face. He glared at Chloe’s outstretched hand and growled. Then he called her names that would have sent a weaker woman sobbing from the house. Jaw clenched, Chance pinched Ivan’s shoulder to get the message across to be respectful to the lady. “Dad, that’s quite enough.” Chance felt mortified.

      But Chloe, serene, didn’t budge. After a moment, she knelt closer and whispered, “I think your late wife would want you to try. I know Chance does.” Chloe winked. “Think of all the beautiful grandbabies you have to look forward to in the future. They’d want you to try.”

      At first, Ivan scowled again. But as her words finally seeped in, he blinked several times. Met Chance’s gaze, which had been reduced to pleading. Ivan’s face softened. With a quaky motion, Ivan brought his hand to hers. A clumsy tremor proved his attempt to squeeze with all his might.

      “Not bad.” Chloe made notes on her paper, then stood.

      “So, what do you think?” Fear streaked through Chance that Chloe would turn them away as clients.

      Then reassurance sparkled like the gold in Chloe’s eyes as she met his gaze briefly before grinning at Ivan. “I think by the time Midnight and I get through with Ivan, he’ll be strong enough to pick us both up and toss us in the yard. With his affected arm.”

      Relief rushed Chance at the confidence in her words.

      Ivan sat straighter. “You saying the sooner I do my exercises, the sooner you and that oversize mutt’ll go away and not bother me anymore?”

      “That’s what I’m saying.” Chloe repositioned Ivan’s hand on a small towel from her bag. She rolled it, then secured it with tape and rested it on the table beside Ivan. “Curl your fingers around this. Squeeze whenever you think about it.”

      “Only if I can think of pinching the nose off that mongrel pup so everybody’ll quit controlling my life.”

      “Fair enough.” Chloe said a command to the dog, who’d been sitting obediently, stoic and watching.

      At her command, Midnight lay down. He also switched from watching Chloe to watching Ivan while Chloe performed more physical, neurological and strength tests.

      Ivan peered over his age-thickened nose at the dog and muttered something Chance couldn’t hear. Chloe looked like she might balk. Chance moved to intervene.

      Subtly, Chloe shook her head at him. He paused.

      His respect for her rose as he observed Chloe’s skill and bedside manner, especially in the glaring light of his father’s storm of stubbornness. She wasn’t asking him to do the assessment maneuvers. Nor demanding. Just not really giving Ivan the option to opt out. Smart girl. She’d pegged his difficult dad and his needs in a heartbeat.

      Chance grinned. Maybe he liked this OT and her unconventional ways more than he cared to admit.

      But if Ivan forbade the dog, they were done. There’d be nothing left to do except give up. Chance couldn’t do that. He eyed the Lab, now sleeping near Ivan’s feet. It’d take a miracle to get Dad to accept help from a supersize fur-ball that looked more like a small bull than a dog.

      Chloe gathered her things and suggested a few exercises to Ivan that Chance doubted he’d do. The therapist smiled and started to say something to Chance until her vision again brushed past the books on the table. Her smile faded. “So which one of you is studying to be a pastor, you or Brock?”

      Chance laughed. “Definitely not Brock.”

      “That means you.” Not a question but a flat statement.

      He nodded, observing her face as it seemed to harden a bit. She eyed her watch, bade them goodbye and headed for the door.

      Thunder rumbled in the distance. He watched her rush toward her car in a near-sprint that communicated