Trusting Him (15 page)

Michael handed the Weed Eater to a kid who looked like he could handle it. He glanced across the church lawn to the corner where Maggie planted flowers with a couple of the girls. Three days had passed since their racquetball game and in that time their conversations had been stilted, just touching on the weather and how the kids were doing. Maybe he had shared too much and been too honest about his struggle?

He glanced her way again, and this time their gazes connected. She looked away first, leaving him with unanswered questions. He didn't want to lose her friendship.

"Can you handle it, Zack?" He pointed to the Weed Eater the kid held.

"Sure, I guess. But why are we doing this again?"

"Because it saves the church a lot of money if we do the yard work. And because it's good to give of our time."

"Okay, that's cool with me."

Chance walked up, his smile tight and a tinge of blue on his cheek. He had showed up for church on Wednesday night. It had been the first time, and obviously it hadn't gone over too great at home. He had said it wouldn't.

"Can I talk to you?" Chance didn't give him time to answer. The kid grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. "Did you know that Curt is a weirdo, and he's been spying on Miss Simmons?"

"Okay."

"Did you know?"

"Calm down, Chance. Is Curt here?"

"Shoot, no. I told him not to come back here again."

Michael almost laughed. "Chance, that might not be the best way to handle the situation. I could talk to him."

"I had to do something. But maybe it won't matter. They might be moving him to a new foster home."

Michael shook his head. Another foster home. He couldn't imagine being these kids and being bounced around this way. If it wasn't foster care, it was from parent to parent.

"You're a good kid, Chance."

"Sure, okay."

"I mean it. And thanks for worrying about Maggie."

Chance shrugged and walked off. "I've got to mow."

A blast of water hit Michael in the back. He jumped and turned around. It was Maggie. She laughed so hard she lost her footing and fell back, the hose still in her hands. Two of the girls were helping her. Five minutes ago she'd been avoiding him. What had happened to change that?

"I think this is war." He ran for the hose, pulling it and Maggie toward him, both at the same time. The more hose he gathered to his side, the closer she got to him. "You are so going to drown for this."

Three feet away from him, she shrieked and ran, taking her two mighty soldiers with her. Michael grabbed the hose and sprayed, hitting all three of them across the backs of their legs.

"Do you give?" he yelled. "You know I'm going to win."

Maggie turned just as he sprayed, taking a face full of water. She sputtered and choked, wiping at her face with her hands. Michael dropped the hose and ran to her side.

They were both laughing. He offered her the end of his shirt to wipe her face. "I'm sorry, Mag, I didn't mean to do that."

She opened her eyes, mascara running down her cheeks. "Mag?"

"Sorry.
Maggie
."

"I don't mind. It's just a first. And thank you for the use of your shirt." She blinked a few times. "Michael, how did you get the scar on your side?"

"An accident." One that he hadn't planned on talking about.

"A car accident?"

"Maggie, not right now."

She shrugged and her gaze flew to something behind him.

"What in the world is Chance doing?"

He turned, falling for it, and got a face full of water.

"Gotcha!"

Yes, she had gotten him. Before he could get his face wiped, she was gone.

Maggie changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that she kept in her office and then she went in search of something high calorie to make up for the yard work they had done. She glanced out the window as she poured herself a glass of milk. The kids were leaving. Except Chance. He stood under the basketball net, shooting one shot after another. Michael slapped him on the back in a gesture of camaraderie and walked off.

He would be coming inside now. She took a sip of milk and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He would want to talk. After she had carefully avoided him since their racquetball game, now he was going to ruin it for her. Or maybe she had ruined it. After all, she had been the one to spray the hose. Why had she done that?

Oh, she remembered why. Because she had caught him glancing her way and she had seen the questions in his hazel eyes. He hadn't understood her silence. He probably thought his struggle offended her. Instead it was her fear of getting hurt that forced her to build walls.

She cared about him— as a friend. She had tried to tell herself that it was okay to care.

The side of her that feared getting hurt didn't agree. Michael had something to prove to himself, and she knew that he needed space to do that. She really wanted to give him that space. She needed it, too.

She had just sat behind her desk when he walked into the room. Actually he stopped and leaned against the door frame. She ignored the confidence that was such a part of his bearing. There he stood in white leather tennis shoes, faded jeans and a T-shirt, and he looked as though he had it all in control. The world was his for the taking.

Or at least it appeared that way on the surface, probably more to people who didn't know him. But she had seen the pain in his eyes, the hardness that sometimes sneaked in. She had seen the scar on his stomach that was evidence of a life that hadn't been spent in church.

"So, how about that dinner you wouldn't let me buy you the other night?"

"I don't think so. I have work to get done, and I thought I'd order a pizza to take home."

His cell phone rang as she finished talking. He shot her an apologetic look as he answered. Maggie tried to pretend she couldn't hear the conversation. She could, and it stung.

"I'm sorry, I did forget dinner. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

She waited for him to end the call before she flashed him her best "It's really okay" smile.

"Sorry." To his credit he looked it.

"You have to leave?" She tried to sound unaffected by that. So why in the world did she feel hurt and let down? Because this always happened when she got attached or let herself start to care. It had even happened when she was six years old and Davy Parker had asked her to be his girlfriend. She had circled "yes" on his note. He smiled, and the next day he passed a note to Cindy Johnson asking her the same thing.

"I forgot a dinner engagement and I'm late."

"Of course, I understand." At her age she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up about dinner. She should have remembered Davy Parker.

"I don't want to leave, Maggie. I wouldn't go if I didn't have to."

Or her dad. He could have been there for her during a childhood that had been anything but stable. She stood, planning to escape, to get herself a cup of coffee and another dozen cookies. "You don't have to explain your actions to me, Michael."

Okay, that didn't sound at all like the voice of someone who didn't care. She would have to work on that, on getting down a certain degree of neutrality.

"I'm not walking out on you. I forgot a prior commitment, that's all." He stood and moved closer. Maggie felt him invading her imaginary circle of personal space and backed away.

Age twenty, Greg in a car, wanting more than she had ever considered giving, and taking it when she said no.

She slid past him, heading for the door. He reached for her arm and she moved from his grasp. Michael, not Greg, she reminded herself, and Michael wouldn't hurt her. She knew that without doubting.

But he could hurt her. Somewhere along the way her heart had become entangled, forgetting that she didn't want to form attachments. The sincerity in his hazel eyes and his love for the kids made her want to believe in him.

More than that, sometimes when he looked at her, the way he was looking at her at this very moment, she felt like he honestly cared about her.

"Maggie, I'm not sure what's going on."

She nearly laughed. The poor guy probably didn't get it. If anyone could have less experience with male/female relationships than she did, it would have to be Michael Carson. He wouldn't notice a girl getting attached if she used Super Glue.

Okay, so not his fault. Give him a break.

"I need a glass of water to wash down my milk. I poured that huge glass. Silly me, I forgot that I don't like milk."

"I promised you dinner, and I'm going to keep that promise." His cell phone rang again. "But maybe not tonight."

"Big plans?" she asked when he hung up.

"I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents and an old college buddy of my dad's…and like the evil twin I am, I forgot."

"Oh." That one pathetically lacking word slipped from her lips. What else could she say? "You have a twin?"

He laughed. "You know I don't have a twin. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you come with me?"

"I don't think so." She reached for her coffee cup and slid past him.

"Why not?"

"I'm wearing sweats and a T-shirt. And because my last visit with your parents was a little bit of a disaster."

"It wasn't."

"Michael, you might not have noticed, but I don't belong in your world."

"You belong wherever you want to be, Maggie."

He had her there. "Okay, I don't want to be in that world."

It was the world of her father and her grandparents. And they had never thought she belonged.

"I don't get you, Maggie."

"It isn't a requirement for working here. We can work with the kids and not completely understand each other. You should probably go now. You don't want to be any later than you already are."

"Fine, I'm going. But, Maggie, eat something other than cookies. You need to take care of yourself."

She smiled at that. She had been taking care of herself for a long time, long before he showed up.

"Have a good time, Michael."

He shot a smile over his shoulder as he walked out.

An hour later the ringing of the telephone interrupted her work. Maggie glanced at the object, wishing it could understand that she didn't want to be bothered. It rang again and she knew she would answer, it might be her grandmother.

"There's going to be a young man at the door in about five minutes." Michael's voice, and he sounded very pleased. "It's safe to let him in."

"Oh, are
you
matchmaking now?" She smiled, shifting her shoulder to hold the phone against her cheek.

"Not on your life. I just wanted to warn you, so you wouldn't be afraid to open the door."

"So what does the young man want?" She shoved aside a pile of papers. It was never easy to get everything in order for vacation Bible school. "Is he here to clean?"

"It's a surprise. I just wanted to do something nice for you." He was smiling, she could hear it in his voice. "I have to go, so hurry and answer the front door."

As if on cue, a banging on the front door of the church ended their conversation.

The surprise at the door brought a mist of tears to her eyes. The young man held out a tray and as she took it, he bowed and handed her a note. Maggie thanked him, offered a tip that he wouldn't accept and then stepped back into the building to lock the door.

The aroma that wafted out from under the coverings on the tray made her mouth water. Maggie didn't make it to her office. She sat at the front desk and lifted one of the coverings. Chicken with a creamy— she leaned to sniff— mustard sauce, asparagus, rice, a roll and even cheesecake for dessert.

Her hand still clutched the note. Lifting the flap, she pulled out the piece of paper and held it up. "Someone has to take care of you. Eat this before it gets cold and forgive me for running out on you. Michael."

Of course she would forgive him, how could she not forgive him when her heart had just melted into a huge puddle on the floor?

F
riday afternoon, after brief spring showers, the sun came out and so did the kids. A large group gathered in the rec room to play pool or Ping-Pong. Most of them, but not all. Maggie peeked through the miniblinds in the church kitchen and watched Michael playing basketball with Chance.

He pulled down the bandanna that was wrapped around his forehead, wiped his face, then he pushed the red cloth back into place. Glistening with sweat, he held the basketball over his head and jumped, making the shot with ease. Chance shook his head and walked off.

"Spying?"

Maggie jumped, spinning to face Pastor Banks. "Just watching them play," she hedged as she brushed past him, reaching for a glass. "I came in to get a glass of water."

"Maggie, you're nearly twenty-seven years old. It's okay for you to be attracted to a man." Pastor Banks followed her to the sink. Sometimes she regretted that he had filled the role of father figure in her life. It made him incredibly opinionated at times.

"Who said I'm attracted to anybody?" She ran the glass under the water, emptied it and refilled it. "I was watching their silly game. Chance is really doing great. Don't you think?"

"We're not talking about Chance, we're talking about you and the fact that you won't let yourself have a relationship, other than friendships."

"I'm not that needy." She smiled, hoping to get a similar response from her pastor. He didn't smile. "Pastor Banks, I'm happy doing what I do. This is the commitment that I've made, to serve God by working with teens. I don't have room in my life for relationships that might take my time and attention away from what I do."

"Not true. You're trying to protect your heart. You have to stop punishing yourself for mistakes that your parents made." Pastor Banks pointed to a chair and she didn't dare tell him no. She plopped down, concentrating on the glass of water and hoping the sermon wouldn't last the usual hour.

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

"No, you're not. You're closing your ears to everything I say." He pulled the glass out of her hand. The fatherly look in place on his face, telling her he
would
be heard. "Maggie, you have to forgive your dad and stop living your life in this shadow of guilt. You did not make a mistake, your parents did. I know that isn't what you want to hear, but you have to stop punishing yourself as if your very existence is the sin."