Page 78 of His Eighth Ride

Opal met her father’s eyes again. “You might be right.”

“You’re thinking about it as running a foundation.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “That’s what it is.”

“No, it’s running the ER,” he said. “Which you did for a full year, without fail.”

“But Daddy, I didn’t love running the ER.” A tremor ran through her chest. “Remember how I took a sabbatical and then quit? And I didn’t even tell anyone I quit, because it was something I’d worked so hard for, for so long.”

Opal let the humiliation run through her. She reached up and wiped her right eye, which had started to leak the tiniest of tears. “I’ve spent a decade of my life in the medical field,” she said. “And it’s all I know how to do. But what if I’m meant to do something else?”

“You’re a mighty fine doctor, Opal,” Daddy said quietly. “But if you don’t want to do that anymore, I promise you, you’re the only one who thinks the past decade of your life has been a waste.”

She sniffled as she studied her hands, then the carpet in her bedroom. “You and Momma--?”

“Your mother and I are nothing but proud of you, Opal. You went after what you wanted, and you worked hard to get it. Then, when it made no sense to leave it all behind, you did exactly that, because God told you to. So you’re brilliant, and hard-working, and faithful. Momma and I can’t ask for anything more than that.”

She nodded, taking in his compliments and feeding on them in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. “Letting you down is my biggest fear, Daddy.”

“Well, you never have,” he said. “Opal, sugar, look at me.”

Opal swallowed and tried to get her eyes to stop leaking. She needed courage—and humility—to look her father in the eye, but after several seconds of his patient silence, she managed it.

She started crying even harder at the pure compassion and love shining in his face.

“You are my daughter, and I love you endlessly,” he whispered. “There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. So if you decide to start a medical foundation—which I think is a stellar idea and needed in that area—great. If you decide you don’t want to do this, and you want to be Mike and Gerty’s nanny forever, also great. They need you. They love you. There’s absolutely no shame in anything you’re doing or have done.”

Opal nodded while tears streamed down her face. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Take a think about it,” he said, his brilliant smile lighting his face. He’d aged steadily in the past five years, but Opal could still see his spirit. She could still see his devotion to his family, to Momma, to living his life the way God wanted him to.

“Ask God what He wants you to do.” Daddy clicked around on his side of the screen. “These projections will still be here if or when you’re ready for them.” His eyes came back to hers. “How’s the house coming?”

“Good.” She drew in a breath and covered her face with her hands. She wiped her tears away and came up with a smile for her father. “They’ve got it framed, and it looks so big.”

He chuckled. “You’ll fill it right up.”

“Everything I own is in California,” she said. “And I certainly don’t see how I can fill five bedrooms when I came from a one-bedroom apartment.”

“I believe in your shopping ability,” Daddy quipped.

That got Opal to giggle, and she didn’t want to get going into full-blown manic laughter. So she curbed herself and said, “I love you, Daddy. Thank you so much for your advice and work on this for me.”

“Oh, he loves it,” Momma called from somewhere. He looked over his shoulder, and Opal grinned as her mother came into the frame.

“Hey, Momma. We’re done.”

“Good, because it’s time for Daddy’s walk.”

“Oh, you’re walking him these days?”

“Him and Creamie,” Momma said as she sat on Daddy’s lap. “If they don’t get out every day, they’re beasts.”

“She’s the beast if she doesn’t get outside every day,” Daddy said, smiling at Momma.

“Well, I’ll let you guys take your walk. Give Creamie a hug from me.” She’d only met her parents’ dog a few times, but she was a sweet little pup who kept her parents company, and that meant Opal loved her too.

The video call ended with I love you’s and we’ll talk soon’s, and Opal finally clicked end and sat back from her computer. “What do I want?” she asked the empty room, the silence, herself, and God.

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