Love Lifted Me (2 page)

Lillabeth. Trustworthy girl Friday. Always faithful—but a bit loose-lipped.

“Rice was more my husband's friend.” Jade tugged her phone from her pocket and checked the time, making a point. “If you want to talk about her, you might want to drive up the mountain to Whisper Hollow and see her parents. I don't believe they've left for Europe just yet.”

“I came to see you.”

“Me? Why?” A warm rush under Jade's skin. A familiar sensation, one stirred by her heart when she braced for unexpected news. But how many more surprises could this year bring?

The warm air of the shop hovered close. Jade wished for a cool drink and a river breeze.

“Selfish reasons, I assure you.” Taylor inched farther inside the shop, confident and poised. “Rice talked about you. She respected you even though she never regretted what happened with your husband.”

“Max said she did. They both did.”

Taylor smiled. “Rice knows how to say the right things to the right people.”

“Why are you telling me this?” For claiming to be Rice's friend, this Taylor painted a darker picture of the woman Jade knew. A childhood friend of her husband's. His former fiancée. The mother of Asa. “What are your selfish reasons for being here?”

“Rice left Whisper Hollow because she felt bad for you, yes, but once she had the baby, she hoped Max would follow her to California.” Taylor peered at the floor, skipping the toe of her leather shoe over the painted cement. “She was a brilliant lawyer, but a bit of a dreamer when it came to everyday life.”

“Manipulative would be a good word.”

“It's what made her a great lawyer. In the courtroom she was solid, grounded, levelheaded. In her personal life, she was more of a romantic with her head in the clouds.”

“So . . . you drove from Nashville to tell me Rice loved my husband?” After this spring, such a confession merely bounced off Jade. Worse had happened.

“Not exactly.” Taylor shifted her stance. “Holding out for Max was the one thing I never got about Rice. I mean, the man of her dreams was married. And from what I could tell, he wasn't giving up his marriage to you for Rice. Even after Asa was born. He came to see him, but—”

“He flew to California?” Jade fielded the small confession, then tossed it from her heart. She wasn't really surprised. Max did try to do right by his son, even if he had betrayed Jade by not confessing his bachelor-weekend encounter with Rice.

“He came to see him for a day, signed the birth certificate, and held him for a while. Then flew home. His company has a jet, I guess?”

“Yes, Benson Law has a jet.” Pieces of Max's confession surfaced. “Max said Rice wanted to raise Asa alone. She didn't want him in her life.”

“Bluffing. Another thing she was really good at. Did you ever play poker with her?” Taylor closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Anyway, Rice figured Max couldn't resist the lure of a son. After all, he is a third or fourth generation lawyer, heir to a big legal dynasty. What prince doesn't want an heir? A son? I told Rice to move on, you know? California is a bastion for good-looking, savvy, smart, wealthy men. She could've had anyone she wanted. But she had her mind set on Max. He was the one that got away. Maybe convincing herself one day she'd get him back, especially since they were bonded by a son, was her way of coping.”

“Coping with the fact that Max was married to me or that she seduced a man before his wedding?” Jade checked the time on her phone again. “I'm sorry, but I need to go pick Asa up from school. We have a playdate in the park with some friends.” Jade took an affirming step toward the door but Taylor didn't move. Jade sighed. “Is there anything else?”

“Rice wanted what she couldn't have and the more she couldn't have it, the more she wanted it. That woman loved a challenge. I drilled her a hundred different ways. Why Max? Of all the men in the world, why some old boyfriend from high school? Why the man she could've married but didn't? For crying out loud, if she really wanted him, why didn't she marry him when she had the chance? I swear she only wanted him because you had him.”

“Wouldn't surprise me. So, Taylor, do you have a point somewhere in this story?” Jade kept a slight irritation in her tone, hoping to prod Taylor along.

“I'm getting to it. This is where it gets sticky. Where Rice went too far and why I'm standing here.”

Now she had Jade's attention. Her heart waited. Wide open. The mood between them shifted. Friendly fire fixing to hit.

“Asa was Rice's ultimate coup. It's how she figured to keep Max in her life forever.” Taylor paced to the sales counter and propped against it, her confidence fading. “She created an unbreakable bond by having his child.”

“His first, I know. And a son.” Those two facts visited Jade at night and demanded her attention. Max had a son. But she was not his mother. She'd cried out for peace and wisdom from her Lord in those times.

“Right, right, of course, you've thought of that.” Taylor fell silent.

“Is that all?”

Taylor shook her head. When she peered at Jade, her eyes glistened. “I thought this would be easier.” She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “It just makes no sense, but—?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. The blue light of her eyes dimmed. “Rice lied, Jade.”

“She lied? About what?”

“She lied about Asa. Max is not his father.”

Two

Under a blaze of Texas sun, Max rolled left, arm cocked for the pass, looking for his receiver. A teen named Calvin Blue.

When the kid broke through a pack of defenders and slanted across the meadow, Max spiraled the football toward him, hitting the young would-be tailback in the hands. Calvin tucked the ball away and raced for the orange pylons.

Touchdown. Calvin juked and jived in the makeshift end zone. “Can't touch this. Can't touch this.” He spiked the ball into the mowed grass, then strutted past his opponents, taunting, “Sorry to make y'all eat my dirt.”

“All right, Calvin, bring it back. Nice play. We're all amazed.” Max had been around football his whole life. It was his passion next to Jesus, Jade, and the law, and he'd never seen a sixteen-year-old cut and run the ball like Calvin.

The boys gulped water from the cooler. Max reached for his shirt tossed on the ground. Today was a shirts and skins game. The last.

Taking a long drink from his own water bottle, Max dumped the rest over his sweaty head. The cool wetness ran down his hot face and into the collar of the T-shirt that swung loose about his waist. Between fasting before the Lord, ranch work, and afternoon football, Max's lawyer physique had been whittled down and chiseled.

He whistled for them to huddle up. Calvin arrived first and propped his arm on Max's shoulder, sweating and panting, his dark skin glistening.

“Good job today, everyone. I'm proud of you. Dale, nice crab block on Sam here.” Max jutted his elbow into big Sam's ribs. He was what, fifteen, sixteen, and twice Dale's size. “And Tucker? You created the hole for Calvin's touchdown.” The shy sandy-blond boy kicked at a clump of grass. He was lean and built, with undisciplined athletic prowess because he lacked the confidence to develop his skill.

“And you.” Max turned to the cocky star player leaning on his shoulder, then bounced the ball against his head. “Remember, every great player needs a team.”

“Coach.” Calvin clapped his hand to his chest. “You think I don't appreciate my homeboys?”

“Just keep it in mind.” Max took a few more minutes to encourage the rest of the players in the huddle. He'd practiced what he wanted to say next—his good-bye speech—but emotion gummed up his words. “This is the last day of camp because it's my last day at the ranch.”

He exhaled, fighting the tears behind his eyes. Why was this moment so hard? Something had happened in his heart when he started working with these Colby, Texas, teens. They were good kids, but adrift, looking for a safe place to land.

“I'm going to miss y'all. Thanks for coming. You've . . . you've impacted me.” Max patted his hand over his heart.

Every afternoon for six weeks, a Randall County rec center bus drove the kids to the ranch. Forty minutes out, forty minutes back. Not one boy ever missed a day.

The bus driver said he'd never seen kids stay so committed to a program.

Maybe, Max decided, it was because he needed them as much as they needed him.

Axel Crowder, the man who ran the Outpost Rehab Ranch, suggested the camp one evening after he and Max had talked football, and since Max had hours in his day to fill, he agreed. Besides, it was football. Say no more.

He watched his team file onto the bus, a missing-them sensation traveling across his chest. When the last one got on, Calvin hopped off.

“Got something on your mind, Calvin?” Max started gathering the gear.

“So, no more ball, Coach?” Calvin said. “They're letting you out of this nut farm?”

“It's risky, but they have to cut me from the herd.” After three months and a lot of face-to-the-ground time, Max knew he had to face Jade and the dirge he'd left playing in her heart. “I miss my wife and my son.” He stuffed footballs into a duffel bag.

“You got a kid? No fooling.” Calvin picked up a ball and tossed it between his hands. The bus driver tooted the horn, but he waved it off.

“He's almost two.” Max didn't admit he'd only held his son once in his young life before March rolled around. Then all the buried lies surfaced when Rice McClure died.

“Think he'll play football?”

“If he has any talent. If he wants to play.”

“I got talent for it.”

Max tossed the duffel into the bed of the Outpost pickup. “About as much as any kid I've ever seen.”

“Really? Who've you seen? Ain't you a lawyer or something?”

“Yeah, I'm a lawyer, but I played in high school, a year in college. Used to coach youth league, sort of what we did here this summer.”

“I thought so, I thought so. Seemed you knew what you was doing.”

The bus beeped. “Calvin, the bus is leaving.” The driver inched forward.

Calvin gazed over his shoulder but didn't flinch. “Our football here stinks. Can't keep a coach. Five in six years.”

“Yeah, I know.” The Outpost was just on the edge of Colby, Texas, a panhandle city that once reveled in state football championships. But in the last decade, something fierce went wrong with Colby High football and no one knew how to fix it. “I hear the coaches quit or get fired.”

“Yep. The more we lose, Coach, the worse the coaches. Who wants a job with the Colby Warriors? It'll kill a guy's career.” Calvin squinted at Max. “My brother got recruited to Texas from here. Got his college paid for, but there ain't no chance for me.”

“I'm sorry, Calvin. What about academics?”

He laughed, pressing his fist to his lips. “I can run. That's what I do. Run and catch footballs. I got grades that'll get me in, but nothing so high and mighty as a academic scholarship.” At sixteen, the muscled, quick Calvin stood eye to eye with Max, caught somewhere between boyhood and the man he was to become. “Scouts don't even bother coming our way these days. Why should they? All the good players transfer to Amarillo or Canyon.”

“Why don't you?” Max crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the truck. From his position he could see the rec center bus inching down the winding Outpost driveway.

“Don't got no kin or ‘cousin' in those districts whose address I can use.” Calvin air-quoted “cousin” and backed away. “Best go catch my bus.”

Calvin cut across the field, sprinting low, using his arms and legs to pump up speed. He caught the bus just as it turned onto the highway toward town. Max grinned, shaking his head. Incredible.

Then he gathered the pylons and flags, broke down the water table, and loaded up the truck. He'd come to love this place—the space, the miles of blue sky unfurling overhead, the fragrance of a storm rolling in off the prairie.

Fifteen men had started the program the first of April with Max. Men like him with wealth and privilege. Athletes, lawyers, CEOs, entertainment professionals, and one senator. A month later, ten remained. By the end of May, Max was one of six.

Climbing in behind the Dodge's wheel, Max fired up the old beast, as Axel called it, and followed a rutted path to the Big House—a high and wide twostory ranch nestled between barns and bunkhouses.

He arrived at the Outpost pain-pill addicted, gritted up, ready to work, primed to face his weaknesses. He wanted to understand why he used and why he slept with another woman a week before marrying the love of his life.

He'd prepared for anything and everything Axel Crowder might throw at him. Except one. The love and mercy of Jesus.

Max gunned the gas, firing the truck across the pasture. Yeah, how did a man respond to mercy and grace when he knew in his deepest parts he deserved none of it?