Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (31 page)

“Goodbye, Max.”

“So long, counselor. Keep those teen herds of raging hormones in line.”

He signed off, and she laughed. She was beginning to really enjoy the continual surprise
that was Max Jones.

Chapter Ten

M
ax didn’t make it to the church until ten-fifteen. He wasn’t in a rush to meet whoever
it was Heather thought he ought to meet. Just outside the church door, Max tried one
last stalling tactic. “This is a dumb idea.”

Heather and Melba Bradens—Heather had evidently brought reinforcements so he’d be
outnumbered—crossed their hands over their chests like a pair of clucking mothers.
“No, it’s not. It’s sweet,” Heather said.

“It’d be fun for the knitters to meet you. And besides, I’ve had a lousy eight days,
so you have to humor me.” Melba yanked the door open. “Griever’s choice.” She walked
through the doors.

Max looked at Heather. “Did she really just say ‘griever’s choice’?”

Heather cocked her head to one side. “Just humor her, okay? The way I hear it, you
used to be the kind of guy who rushed into a room full of women.”

“Ladies’ night on Rush Street is one thing. The old ladies’ church knitting circle
is quite another.”

“Melba’s invited JJ and me to join,” Heather teased. “We’re not old ladies.”

JJ had mentioned something about learning to knit. Max had visions of chunky ski hats
in scary colors and scarves that itched. Still, he had to admit the black-with-flames
prayer-blanket thing this group had made him was pretty cool. Regardless, Max was
sure he was rolling into one of the most regrettable hours of his life.

“Ladies, I want you to meet Max Jones.”

A chorus of hellos greeted him from a circle of women—remarkably, not all of them
old and quite a few he recognized—sitting in the church parlor and knitting.

“Max Jones. Hot Wheels—isn’t that what they call you?” A sparkly-eyed older woman
he vaguely recognized aimed a pointy stick at him. “I knit your prayer shawl, honey.
Had fun with it, too. Only I don’t suppose you call it a shawl, now, do you?”

“I don’t call it much of anything,” he replied, liking her immediately despite his
earlier resistance. “Except maybe warm and fuzzy.”

“Violet did an amazing job, didn’t she?”

“Warm and fuzzy but black with flames,” she boasted. “That was a pretty tall order.”
He wheeled over and offered her a handshake, pleased when she didn’t hesitate for
a moment. “Violet Sharpton. I’m afraid I don’t have a nifty nickname like yourself,
but Violet’s done me right all these years, so I can’t complain.” Violet winked at
Melba. “You weren’t kidding. He really is a looker.”

Max withdrew his hand and decided maybe this was a dumb idea after all. “Thanks. I
mean for the blanket thing. It matches my car and everything.”

“Hard to miss that car,” said a slightly younger woman Max remembered seeing around
the firehouse. “Chad’s made a few jokes about needing to douse it.” The remark told
him that must be Jeannie Owens, the fire marshal’s wife, who ran the candy shop. More
than a few baskets of her sweets had ended up in his hospital room.

“I’m rather surprised you came back to Gordon Falls, son.” The oldest of the group
eyed him over her glasses. “Kind of quiet for the likes of you, isn’t it?”

“JJ and Alex are here. My job is nearby. There wasn’t a reason to leave.” Max dared
a quick look at Heather. “Besides, the people are nice.”

His quick glance did not go unnoticed. The old lady darted her eyes back and forth
between Heather and Max, making a host of assumptions that showed on her face. “So
they are.”

“Stop it, Marge,” Violet chimed in, swatting the assuming lady’s hand. She returned
her attention to Max, still boasting a knowing smile. “Marge and I got free coffee
off of you two coming into Karl’s the other day.” She turned to the group. “Did you
know Karl gives you a free drink if he has to move you so Max can have the corner
table?”

Another woman looked up from her knitting. “Why don’t we all go over to Karl’s after
this, sit in the corner table and then Max can come in? We’ll all get free coffee.”

Jeannie Owens laughed. “That’s our Tina. Always looking for a bargain.”

These weren’t like any old knitting ladies in rocking chairs Max had ever met. “I
don’t think it works that way. Since I owe you, however, how about I bring you a pie
one of these days? A payment for the blanket.”

“Oh, we don’t accept payment,” Marge said. “And I saw in a magazine that it can be
called a ‘throw.’” Her eyes lit up. “Hey, that means it’s a ‘flame throw.’ Isn’t there
something called a flame throw?”

Jeannie, who had barely stopped, erupted into laughter again. “That’s a flamethrow
er,
Marge. If you had a teenage son with a video-game system, you’d know these kinds
of things.”

Violet nudged Marge in the elbow. “There is a handsome man offering to bring us pie
and you’re discouraging him? Did you take your pills this morning?”

“You here to learn to knit?” Tina looked a bit too pleased at the prospect.

Thankfully, Melba stepped in. “I just wanted to make sure you got to meet Max and
he got to meet you.” She looked at Max. “We don’t always get to meet the recipients
of our prayer shawls, and you have to admit, yours was pretty special.”

“JJ loves hers,” Max felt compelled to offer. “My mom, too. It was a really nice thing
to do.”

“You’re a really nice young man for saying so,” Violet said. “If you’d like to learn,
come in anytime. Melba taught most of us, so we like beginners.”

Max didn’t think his image could withstand the addition of yarn and needles. “I think
I’ll stick to bringing you pie.”

“Maybe we can start up a club at the high school,” Heather offered.

“We can look into it,” Melba said. After a second, she added, “I need a new project.”

Violet immediately wrapped Melba in a giant hug. “Oh, we know you do, dear. How are
you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Melba said, sinking down onto the couch and grabbing a tissue from the
box on the coffee table.

Heather caught Max’s eye. “How about Max and I get going and leave you to the yarn
and such?”

Melba looked up from dabbing her eyes. “Thanks for stopping in. Heather, I mean it
about you joining.”

“Once summer comes, I’m yours. You only got me this morning because parent-teacher
conferences are tomorrow.” She picked her handbag up off the chair where she’d laid
it to run her hands through the pile of fluffy shawls. “These aren’t hard to make,
really?”

“Not unless you want one like Max’s. The ordinary ones are just knit and purl, and
even my granddaughter has learned how to do that much.”

“Thanks again, ladies.” Max was surprised to find out how much he truly meant it.
He’d never met people this warm and friendly in the city. For all the architectural
obstacles it threw in his way, Gordon Falls was worth the effort.

As Max chuckled and turned out the door, Violet called, “See you around, Hot Wheels!”
He heard her voice continue from the room behind him as the door closed. “Hot Wheels.
It’s just too much fun to say that. I think I want a nickname.”

* * *

“Violet will be there for Friends Night. She’s been invited to every one, I think,”
Heather offered as she and Max left the church building. “She’s a fabulous role model
for the kids.”

Max cast a glance back at the church door. “She’s certainly not like any grandmother
I’ve ever met. That’s one spunky lady.”

“She reminds me a lot of my Grannie Annie. Only Grannie Annie was a little softer
around the edges. More the home-baked-cookies, cuddle-on-the-couch type rather than
Violet’s brand of high-voltage.” She raised an eyebrow at Max. “You two might become
great friends, you know. She’s got a bit of the rebel in her, and she’s taken to you—that’s
for sure.” Max got an odd look on his face at that remark. “What?”

He brushed her concern off, busying himself with something on one of his wheels.

Heather stepped in front of him. “No, really, Max, what? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just...well, you’re gonna think this is stupid. Only I can’t
help looking at Violet and wondering how I might have turned out with someone like
her in my life. Mom didn’t know what to do with me. Dad just found me disappointing.
And my grandma? She was too irritated with the rest of the world to even pay attention.
I don’t know why I just invited myself to such an all-out pity party, but...”

It made so much sense. Max would hardly be the first person to develop an over-the-top
personality just because it was the only way to get anyone in his family to notice
him. JJ hadn’t ever talked about her family much, only how her father’s military career
made it hard for him to understand JJ’s difficulties serving in combat. “Your dad
was quite the commander, wasn’t he?”

He started heading for his car again. “We didn’t call him ‘General Jones’ for nothing.
I wore my hair long in high school just because it drove him nuts. To say we didn’t
get along would be putting it mildly.”

“That’s why you care so much about the way Simon’s father treats him, isn’t it?”

That earned her a sharp look. “You’re not going all counselor on me now, are you?
I’ve got a menu of shrinks to choose from back at rehab. I’m not in the market for
more.”

She put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “It’s not bad that you care about Simon. I’m really
glad that you do. Kids pick up on that kind of thing instantly—they know if you really
care or if you’re just going through the motions. I’m sorry you didn’t have a Violet
or a Grannie Annie in your life, but don’t you think it’s amazing that you get to
be that for someone like Simon?”

She could almost watch his defenses rise up to cover the deep truth of those words.
“I’m no Violet Sharpton.” He sloughed off her comments, hitting the remote button
that opened his car doors. “Don’t blow this up into more than it is.”

“You’re more like her than you know, Max. I’d have never believed this at first, but
I think you’re just what Simon needs—most of the time.” She still wasn’t convinced
Max wouldn’t go a step too far one of these days. Then again, how many times had Violet
done something that made everyone groan? And still, there wasn’t a single person in
Gordon Falls who didn’t love her or want her around when things got tough. Max had
that gift. There was something deeply enthralling about how he hurled himself into
the world. He just hadn’t tempered it with much wisdom yet. With time, would he?

She couldn’t answer that question, and that jolted a small wave of panic through her
chest. Max Jones was exciting and energizing to be with, but that unfocused energy
also made him dangerous. As Max’s smile made her heart flutter a bit, Heather knew
the danger wasn’t just for Simon. He ran his hand over hers for just a second before
he got into his car, and the tingle told Heather just how much she’d begun to fall
for Max Jones.
Oh, Lord, guard my heart. This is either going to be wonderful or awful, and I’m scared
already.

Chapter Eleven

M
ax was spending a quiet Wednesday night trying not to think of Heather Browning, previewing
a new Adventure Access video and going over some of JJ’s files from the cabin-rental
business when his cell phone went off. He flipped it over and pushed the speakerphone
button when he saw Simon Williams’s name on the screen. “Hey, Simon, what’s up?”

“I hate him!”

“Slow down there, big guy—hate who?”

“Who do you think?” Simon’s voice was a tsunami of teenage anger. “I hate him like
I’ve never hated anything.”

Max picked up the phone and switched off the speaker function. “You mean your dad?”

“He treats me like I’m a total baby. It’s so embarrassing.”

“You’re fifteen. Your parents are supposed to be embarrassing when you’re fifteen.”
Max had the disturbing thought that JJ would be fainting to hear him offer such advice.
Dad and he had been about as compatible as snowballs and campfires in high school.

“I thought you’d understand!”

The accusation stung. He did understand. He was supposed to be the one guy who
could
understand. “No, I get it. I do. Where are you?”

“I’m in your driveway. By your car.”

It was almost nine o’clock at night on a Wednesday. “You’re here? For crying out loud,
why didn’t you just come to the door?”

“I couldn’t figure out which cabin was yours.” Max could believe it. Simon sounded
mixed-up enough to not know his left from his right.

“Look for the ramp. It’s the one right in front of you as you leave the parking lot.
Number Four. I’ll throw the porch light on for you.” Max ended the call, tossed the
phone into his lap and wheeled toward the door. He snapped on the light and pulled
the door open to find a red-eyed, scowling Simon.

“Hi.”

Max pushed back to give Simon room to come in. “Hi yourself. How’d you get here?”

“I walked.” He managed a sour smile. “Well, you know. It’s not that far and mostly
downhill.”

“I can’t believe I’m playing the grown-up here, but do your folks know where you are?”

“I hope they don’t. They’re at school, at parent-teacher conferences.” His eyes narrowed
to angry slits. “They got me a sitter.”

“A what?”

“Someone to stay with me so they could both go to the conferences. I’m fifteen years
old and they hired a babysitter. Can you believe it?”

Max didn’t know what to think, except that said sitter, whoever he or she was, was
likely calling the high school in hysterical fits right about now. He was going to
have to handle this very carefully. “How’d you sneak out?”

“Candace was so engrossed on her phone it wasn’t hard. She’s not too bright, so I
left the door open just to drop a hint.”

Max nodded toward the kitchen. “Want a soda while we talk this through?”

“Sure.”

Max chose his words carefully as he reached into the fridge. “I agree the sitter was
lame, but she and your parents are probably freaking out right about now, don’t you
think?”

Simon softened a bit. “I s’pose.”

“So.” Max slid a soda across the kitchen table to the boy. “How about I call Heather
and she can go find your mom and dad at school and talk them down off the ledge? Otherwise,
I expect we’ll be hearing police sirens roaming through town in ten minutes. She can
hold them off for a bit while you and I figure out your next step. Sound like a plan
you can live with?”

“Okay.”

Max punched in the listing for Heather’s cell. She picked up after half a ring, her
voice tight with panic. “Max? Do you—”

He didn’t let her endure another second of worry. “It’s okay,” he cut in. “Simon is
here. He’s safe, just mad.” He thought Simon had some good justification, but now
wasn’t the time to get into that. “He just showed up at my door about five minutes
ago.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” He could hear shouting in the background as Heather turned her
voice from the phone to address what had to be Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “He’s safe—we
know where he is.” A woman began to cry.

“You’ve got to buy me twenty minutes, okay? Simon and I need to talk this through.”

Mr. Williams’s voice bellowed, “Where is he?” over Heather’s line.

“Max, I—” she cautioned.

“The kid needs someone to listen to him, Heather. And that won’t be Mom and Dad right
now. You know that. Just do what you can and I’ll call you back as soon as the air
is clear.” He ended the call before she could say anything else. If she succeeded,
he might stand a chance of keeping Simon from boiling over. If she failed, Simon’s
parents would be breaking down his door in five minutes anyway.

Max wheeled over to the table, flipping the pop tab on his own soda with what he hoped
looked like calm. “I bought you as much time as I could, Simon, but it isn’t much.
Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?”

“They treat me like I’m five. I could be driving next year, but they don’t even let
me alone yet. Worst of all, this time they hired a
girl from school
to come stay with me. A junior, even. This’ll be all over school by second period
tomorrow. You know it will.” Simon let his head drop into one hand. “I’ll never live
this down.”

Max took a swig of his soda to buy himself time to craft a calm answer. What Simon
described would have been social homicide back in his day, and he didn’t think that
much had changed about high school. “Was she cute?”

Simon looked up. “You’re kidding me.”

“Just looking for the silver lining here. Was she cute? Did she know she was essentially
babysitting?” Max hoped Simon’s parents were smart enough to call it something else,
but it wasn’t likely.

“She was okay. She made a half-baked attempt at getting math tutoring from me, but
she found her phone a lot more interesting, if you know what I mean.”

“Tutoring, huh? Simon, there might be a way to salvage this. A freshman guy tutoring
a junior girl is a pretty good gig. Your mom and dad would have been smarter to work
this out with you ahead of time, but there’s a chance we can keep this from disaster.
What did you say her name was?”

“Candace Norden.”

“Do you know her cell number?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Do I look like the kind of guy who can get a junior cheerleader’s
phone number?”

“Then we’d better pull Heather in on this. Okay if I call Ms. Browning again?”

“Do I have to talk to my parents?”

Max sighed. “Not yet if you don’t want to. But if we want Candace’s cooperation on
this, we ought to let her know you slipped out on her and that you’re okay. If we
can get everyone to agree on the story that you were tutoring her, I think we can
save this. Although it could mean you might actually have to tutor her, so it helps
that she’s cute and a cheerleader, right?”

Simon shot Max a “you don’t really think this is gonna work?” look, but he nodded.

Heather again picked up right away. Max gave a quick account of the situation and
his plan to rescue Simon’s social standing. Heather agreed it was worth a shot and
got Candace’s cell-phone number from Simon’s parents, who seemed to have calmed down
a little but not enough. At least they weren’t breaking down his door. “Try to give
me thirty minutes, Heather. See if you can get them to agree to work with Simon instead
of stuffing bad plans down his throat.”

As soon as he hung up with Heather, Max dialed Candace. He put on his most charming
tone of voice, the one that had broken hearts back in the day. “Hey, is this Candace?”

“Who are you? Do you know where Simon Williams is?” She sounded upset, and Max took
that as a good thing.

“This is Max Jones. Simon’s right here, Candace. Things have gone a little haywire
tonight, and I’m trying to sort it all out. Do you have a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Simon is at my house. I live at the Gordon Cottages down by the river. Number Four.
Can you meet Simon and me here so I can explain? It’s okay—his parents know he’s here
now and you can call Ms. Browning at the school if you want her to confirm everything.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re the other guy in a wheelchair, right? I know who you are. Give
me ten minutes. Simon’s okay and everything, right?”

“He’s fine. And make it five if you can.” Max hung up the phone and looked at Simon.
“You know, I remember a time when
you
were ‘the other guy in a wheelchair.’ Now it’s me. And she’s worried about you. This
might actually work out.”

“I don’t see how it can.”

“It’s simple. We charm Candace into agreeing that she was there tonight for math tutoring,
which will probably involve you helping her score at least a B on her next test. Then
we tackle the hard part of enlightening your folks that there might be less socially
destructive ways of handling this stuff. Then you agree not to go AWOL like that again.
It was understandable but totally counterproductive. You do know what—”

“I know what
counterproductive
means,” Simon cut in. “But I was so mad. How could they possibly think that was okay?”

“They’re parents. High school freaks parents out. And your parents? Well, they seem
especially...freakable.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Max offered a smile. “Go hit the bathroom and wash your face. There’s a girl coming
over soon.”

* * *

Two long hours later, Heather stood on Max’s porch, waving goodbye to the Williams
family as they headed home after a difficult evening for everyone. She turned her
eyes to Max, who looked equally exhausted. “What a night. At least they were speaking
to each other when they left.”

“I feel for that kid. He’s got a long battle to become his own person.” Max looked
up at her. “Do you think they understood him at all tonight?”

She leaned against one of the porch railings. “I want to think they did. Her more
than him, I think. Usually it’s the moms who can’t ease up on the supervision, but
it seems to be Brian who’s the hoverer in that family.”

“Firefighters tend to have a wide protective streak in them. JJ babied me a bit at
first after my accident, and she’s not even my mom.” Max rolled his shoulders, looking
weary from the intense conversation they’d all just had. “I’d forgotten how brutal
high school can be. I sure hope this works. Simon is right—if this got out, he’d never
live it down. I can’t believe they don’t feel like they can leave him alone. He’s
fifteen and pretty capable.”

“Maybe after tonight they’ll start figuring out how to give him some freedom. But
he’s going to have to keep from pulling another disappearing act.” She walked over
to Max. “Thank you for saving the day.”

Max rubbed his neck. “I’m not sure I saved anything yet.”

“You persuaded Candace to help out. You got them talking to each other about what
Simon needs. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who kept them from shouting at each other. And me. Well,
mostly.”

Some shouting had definitely taken place. Brian Williams had harbored suspicions that
Max had put Simon up to his escape, but Heather had managed to convince him that wasn’t
true. “You’re a good man, Max Jones. Do you know that?”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“I think God knew what He was doing when He put you in Simon’s life. He cut off my
access to the other mentor because He knew you were the man who would understand and
bond with Simon.”

Max flung his hands wide. “I’m the only other guy in a chair for miles. There’s no
grand design here, Heather.”

Had life shaken his faith that far? She’d thought she’d seen more than this dismissal
back at Mort Wingate’s funeral. “You can’t really mean that. You can’t tell me you
don’t believe God spared you, or that He spared you for no good reason.”

Max swiveled away from her. “Most days I don’t think God spared me much of anything.
I hear all the stuff JJ says to me, but I can’t really swallow God loving me enough
to snap my spine.”

She’d never heard such dark words from him. “So you’ve no faith? None at all? Even
after something like tonight happens?” She hadn’t realized until tonight how much
she was yearning to take things further with Max. He’d been a dangerous prospect before,
but the way he’d talked to her after the funeral told her there was so much more running
under the flashy exterior. Without faith—or a hope of faith—she couldn’t begin to
risk it.

He must have heard the catch in her voice, for he turned back to face her. “I don’t
know if it’s gone or jumbled or what. I know I could have—maybe
should
have—died when I fell. I know my accident brought Alex and JJ together, and I see
all the good that’s come out of it. I’m glad I can help Simon. But...”

“But what?”

Such a shadow of pain crossed Max’s eyes that Heather felt it like a slash to her
chest. “But I’m still broken.”

Heather came down onto her knees in front of him. “Oh, Max, we’re all broken. You,
me, Simon, the Williamses—all of us.”

“I know there’s a part of you that thinks I’m the same as any other man, Heather,
but it’s a load of—”

She grabbed his hand and shook it. “You’re
not
the same as any other man. No other man could have done what you did tonight with
Simon. Could you have done what you did tonight, what you’ve done all month, before
you fell?”

He pulled back away from her. “I wouldn’t have
had
to do any of this if I hadn’t fallen. Can’t you see that? I’m not you. I’m still
angry. I’m angry at God for letting any of it happen at all, even if JJ got Alex out
of it. ’Cause you know what? I’m selfish enough to wish it all hadn’t happened. I
hate that it happened. I don’t want to make the best of it. I want to walk. There.
I said it. Are you happy?”

Heather sank down to sit on the porch, wounded. JJ was right: Max still really was
“too much of a mess to mess with.” She wanted to shout
No!
in answer to his question, but the word couldn’t find its way beyond the massive
lump in her throat.