Page 69 of The Inn Dilemma

In an unexpected show of affection, Dad reaches across the space between us and grips my hand. “Thank you.” This time, the smile he wears is genuine.

“Nothing to thank me for, Dad.”

He searches my eyes, and it looks like he wants to say something, but he sits back, removing his hand from mine.

I shove down my disappointment and ask, “How did your appointment go?”

Dad’s face falls and he shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Well, I do. I want a solid relationship with you and Mom. And talking about hard things will help do that.”

He looks up at me, and the look he gives me takes me back to my childhood. It’s a look that stops me in my tracks. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Nova.”

I do my best to give him a placating smile. “Okay.”

We grab our food after they call our name and find a picnic table. “So how are things at the inn going?”

“Good,” I say in a voice that sounds cheerier than I’m feeling. “We just have two rooms left to finalize and I have a mural to finish. We’re hoping to have the reopening in a couple weeks.”

“That’s great,” he says. It’s clear he doesn’t genuinely care about the progress, but showing interest is at least a step in the right direction.

We bless the meal before digging in.

Dad practically devours his sandwich before starting in on his cauliflower. I’ve only eaten half of my sandwich and a few bites of my cauliflower before Dad isdabbing his mouth.

I raise an eyebrow at him as I slowly chew. After swallowing the bite and taking a sip of my water, I ask, “So, was that okay?”

He rests his hands against his stomach. “It was delicious.”

I giggle. “Or maybe you were just extra hungry.”

“I’m ready to talk about my appointment now.” He switches the topic so fast it gives me emotional whiplash.

“Oh?” I ask, putting my sandwich down and wiping my hands on my napkin.

Dad takes a deep breath and releases it. “Things aren’t looking good. Each day is another day closer to dialysis or…” The unspoken phrase hangs between us—complete kidney failure and eventually…death.

The idea I’ve been praying over takes complete root, and I’m more sure about it than anything else in my life.

“I’m sorry, Dad. That’s never good to hear.”

He shakes his head. “Dialysis means my entire life changes. My schedule will revolve around my appointments.”

“I get it,” I whisper, then push my plate away. Any traces of my appetite are gone. “We’ll keep praying for a miracle.”

“I’m not too good at prayer, but that’s what I’ve been asking God for too.” He gives me a sad smile.

“God may not always answer our prayers how we want or expect Him to, but He does always answer them.”

Dad reaches across the table, and I give him my hands. All of this is so unfamiliar and unexpected. It’s a reminder of God’s goodness and that the words I just shared with Dad are true. A few weeks ago, I never would have imagined sitting here at a diner havinglunch with Dad, talking about faith in Jesus, or talking at all.

Even when our relationship looked hopeless, God was working in the background, doing things only He can. And in this moment, I know for a fact what I have to do.

After saying goodbye to Dad, I go for a walk through town, praying for continued clarity on what God has planned for me. For continued healing of broken relationships and marriages.

As I pass a couple sharing a kiss outside the cafe, I’m reminded of my kiss with Holt. I turn around and head over to the Storybook Inn. I told Aunt Birdie I’d be back at work today, but didn’t specify what time. When Dad suggested we go out to eat, I let her know. It’s time I get back to the mural. And maybe even have a talk with Holt.

On my walk there, my prayer transforms from my relationship with my parents to my relationship with Holt. I ask God to lead me and guide us to the path He has designed for us. I’ve been in too many failed, ungodly relationships to fall into yet another one.

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