Trusting Him (16 page)

The words sank in, even when she tried to shrug them off. This was a new sermon, not the old one about forgiving her dad. Or even the one about letting someone in. This one would take some time to digest.

"I'm illegitimate." She looked up, blinking back the tears that burned her eyes. "Do you know how that hurts? All of my life I've been asked, 'Where is your dad?' and I didn't have an answer. How could I tell kids that I don't have a father? Not a real father, the kind who shows up at school programs or holds your hand when you cross the street."

"But you do have a Father, a Heavenly Father, and He wants you to give this pain to Him. If you don't, then you're carrying the burden alone."

She knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. She reached for her glass of water and Pastor Banks slid it across the table to her. After taking a drink she lifted her eyes to meet his.

"You're right. I can't paint everyone guilty because of what a couple of people have done. I know that's wrong, but I have a hard time opening up, knowing that I could be hurt again." She slid her hand down the side of the glass.

"What if you keep yourself closed off and you miss out?"

"Good point."

"Maggie, are you doing okay, having Michael here? Is it bringing up too much of the past, and too many memories about Greg and what he did? You told me when we started this with Michael that you'd be honest with me if it was a problem. I promised you I'd move him out of the youth ministry if it didn't work."

"I'm fine with Michael. To be honest, having him here has proven one thing to me. I'm healing. Michael isn't like my mom. He's going to make it. And what Greg did is in the past. Sometimes it comes back to haunt me, but it doesn't have a hold over my life."

"I'm glad to hear that. So what is the problem between you and Michael?"

"I want to know that we can count on him. I don't want to start relying on him, or have the kids attach themselves to him, only to have him decide he doesn't need this anymore."

Or worse, what if he slipped? What if the past pulled him back into the life he had escaped? She shouldn't doubt, but the phone calls and times that he left without giving an explanation worried her.

She didn't want to lose him. And that thought frightened her more than anything, because she didn't know exactly what it meant.

"I don't think that's going to happen."

Pastor Banks's statement brought her head up and for a moment she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. "I'm sorry, what isn't going to happen?"

"He isn't going to change his mind about being here." His eyes softened with compassion. "You're like a daughter to me, Maggie. If I could take this pain from you, I would. I can pray for you, though. I want you to pray about it. Let God take the burden. Don't keep holding on to it, pretending it's gone when it isn't."

She promised to pray. But she didn't tell him that the burden had changed and had become something completely different. The new fear was that if she didn't keep her distance from Michael Carson, her heart would end up broken.

Michael wiped his face with the bandanna he had tied around his neck. Chance shouted to get his attention, but Michael's mind was still on the conversation he'd overheard when he went inside for a drink of water.

Maggie's words, tight with pain, had buried themselves in his heart. He tried to force them from his mind and the role he played in that pain.

He didn't want to be another person who hurt her, but he couldn't be the person she leaned on. He didn't know yet if he could even be strong enough for himself.

"Are we going to play?" Chance rushed forward, hands out for the pass.

Michael tossed the basketball to the teenager, who made the shot with ease. The kid had talent, surprisingly good talent, maybe even exceptional. Michael relayed that information verbally and Chance turned several shades of red. Compliments were something the boy never seemed to understand.

"You're good, Chance. Keep this up and maybe you'll get a college scholarship."

Chance shook his head and lifted the basketball to let it fly through the hoop again. "I'm not even on the team at school."

"Not on the team? Why not?" Michael grabbed the ball as it bounced across the pavement of the driveway.

"I just never make the cut. And my grades didn't used to be so great. It doesn't matter." The lanky kid, all legs and arms, blond hair falling into his eyes, shrugged his shoulders.

"Next year you have to try. Think about it, Chance, you might be able to get a college scholarship."

Chance shook his head. "My dad would just say we can't afford it."

Visions of a shiny new sports car parked in Chance's front yard flashed before Michael's eyes. He tossed the basketball toward the hoop and watched as it circled the rim and dropped through the net. He took a deep breath, releasing his anger with Chance's dad.

"Where does your dad work, Chance?"

Chance trotted across the pavement and grabbed the ball. "He doesn't."

Michael nodded and jumped forward to grab the basketball. Chance slid past him. As he did, Michael caught sight of another bruise. This time the dark swelling was on his arm. Maybe it wasn't a fist mark, maybe the kid ran into something.

Michael doubted it. He wanted to ask questions, but the timing wasn't right. In the last couple of weeks, Chance had started to come out of his shell, to drop some of his anger.

A car honked. Michael glanced toward the road and saw the car from Chance's driveway. He turned his attention back to the kid at his side. Chance stood frozen in the parking lot, the basketball in his hands.

Michael looked back in the direction of the car that had slowed to a crawl as it passed. Chance's dad. Obviously the guy was a "businessman." Michael felt a sickening knot in his stomach.

"My dad." Chance spoke softly as he dropped the ball on the pavement. "I should go."

"Chance, are you okay?" Michael grabbed the ball, which had rolled a few feet from where Chance dropped it. "Do you need to talk?"

The kid shook his head, blond hair falling into his eyes. "No, why would I need to talk? I just need to go."

They walked back to the church.

"I'm here, if you change your mind." Michael put a hand out and stopped Chance from going inside.

Chance jerked away from Michael's hand. "I don't need your help, so back off."

Michael watched him walk away, but in his mind he replayed all of the times in his own life when he had pushed away the people who wanted to help him. He was still rebuilding those relationships, but he had pushed some people so far away, he thought he might never repair the damage. And now, if he pushed Maggie away to keep her safe, what would happen to the friendship that was growing between them?

Maggie looked up when Michael walked into her office. He didn't return her smile. He crossed the room, peeked out the window and then sat in the chair across from her desk.

"What's wrong with you, did you lose the game?" The kids had been gone for almost an hour. In that time, Michael had been missing in action.

"No…well, yeah, but that isn't it." He folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Chance's dad is beating him."

"Yeah, I know."

He looked up, his eyes widening. "What do you mean, you know?"

"Chance has been in and out of foster care for years," she explained.

"But his dad is beating him."

Maggie felt sorry for him. He had grown up in a different world, one that had protected him from the harsh realities of life…for a while.

How could she explain a system that was overworked and limited on funds? "Michael, the system isn't perfect. We hotline his dad, Family Services comes in and investigates. Sometimes they can pull Chance from the home and put him in a foster home, or a group home, sometimes there isn't enough evidence. And the biggest problem is that there aren't enough homes for teenagers. They end up shipping them all over the area and sometimes out of state."

"I didn't know." He looked down at the desk. "I wonder if I'm cut out for this."

"For what? For ministry?" She reached across the desk and covered his hand with hers. "The fact that you care says a lot, Michael. If you didn't care about these kids and what happens to them, I would tell you to take a hike."

He looked up then and smiled. "I know.

"God has a way of leading us into unknown territory."

"But I'm not qualified to minister to these kids." He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Ministers minister. I'm an ex-con with no experience, not even in life. I can handle teaching them some math, or even some Spanish, but I don't know how to handle situations like the one with Chance."

"Listen to your heart. You're doing a better job than you think."

"I'm an ex-con, Maggie. I'm an addict." He stood and lifted his shirt. "You saw this the other day?"

She nodded as he pointed to a jagged scar on his stomach. He sat back down, lowering his shirt and lifting his head so that she could look into his eyes.

"What happened?"

"That's what happens when a drug deal goes bad. That's from a broken bottle." He looked up, meeting her gaze head-on this time. "That is a reminder of where I've been."

"Which is exactly why you need to be here. Because you can relate to what some of these kids are facing."

"I don't want to let you down."

Good, because she didn't want to be let down. More and more she found herself believing in him. That scared her more than the idea of always being alone.

Michael pounded on Noah's door. His brother finally opened, holding the phone to his ear as he motioned Michael inside. He turned the phone off and tossed it on a table as he pointed to the couch.

Michael sat. "Why isn't Vince in jail?"

"You're asking the wrong guy. I'm not on the local team. I know a few people. I was willing to help. Now it's up to them, and I'm afraid I'll be leaving in a couple of weeks. Why?"

"Because I just left an apartment where some very nice people were socializing, and Vince is getting suspicious. He isn't very happy about me getting help for Katherine. Maybe I shouldn't have stepped in, but I couldn't leave her like that, and I didn't realize that they'd developed a relationship."

"I doubt if it had anything to do with love. She just needed a way to get hooked up with her fix." Noah walked to the fridge and pulled out a couple of colas. He tossed one to Michael. "How is Katherine doing?"

"I think she's going to be out in a few weeks. She's doing great, I guess. Or at least she is as long as she's locked up."

"You did a good thing, going to bat for her. I know it wasn't easy."

"No, it wasn't. But now I have to figure out the best way to keep Maggie safe."

Noah shrugged as if the answer was easy. "Keep your distance."

"You make it sound easy."

Noah set his can of soda on the table. "I guess I'm just used to it."

Michael digested that statement and realized that he had just been given an important look into his brother's heart and life. He kept his distance. From everyone.

"I'm not sure if I can keep my distance. Remember, I'm helping with the youth at the church."

"I know that. But I'm telling you, if she doesn't matter to you, she won't matter to Vince." His eyebrows shot up. "Does she matter to you?"

"She's a friend. She's had enough tough times in her life. She doesn't need for me to add to them with my personal drama."

"This is almost over, Michael. Start creating a normal life for yourself. Don't let these things control you. Your life is much bigger than a few incidents with Vince."

"Or the harassment of a few cops who don't believe I'm clean."

"They can't help themselves. If they think you're going to give them a break, they're going to keep their eyes on you."

"I've given them the only break I can. I'm getting the names of people that Vince is using." He stood up and walked to the door. "I've done what I could to make amends."

"Take care of yourself." Noah's words followed him out the door.

Michael would take care of himself. And he had something else he wanted to take care of. Maggie had gone shopping in Branson. He had the day to get this job done.

Two hours after leaving Noah's, Michael pulled up in front of Maggie's house. After parking, he eyed the roof. He felt a moment, or longer, of doubt. How in the world could he do this job?

"Michael, what are you doing here?" Betty stood in the open front door, staring at him over the rim of her glasses as he walked up to the house.

"I…" He held up the tools he'd bought. "I'm going to fix your roof."

"Now aren't you a sweet thing." She stepped out the door onto the front stoop. "Michael, do you know anything about roofing a house?"

He held up the book on roofing. Betty looked at the thin publication. Her eyes narrowed and then widened as her mouth formed an O. "I see."

At least she didn't laugh. He felt a little comforted by that. But then, people who were frightened generally didn't laugh.

"I guess I don't really know how— " he looked up at the roof again "— but I think I can do it."

"Of course you can." Her smile reassured him. "Maggie isn't here."

"I know. That's why I'm here." He took a step toward the house. "Would you mind showing me the areas where the roof leaks?"

"Of course, come on in. We can have a glass of cold lemonade while I show you around."

An hour later the supplies were delivered and Michael found himself on the roof, ready to begin the job of roofing.

Sort of. Well, he was ready. He just didn't know where to start. Or how.

He squatted precariously, holding the how-to magazine in one hand and a hammer in the other. The magazine pages flipped in the wind and he tried to push them down so that he could read the page on "first steps to roofing."

A car honked and his foot slipped. He scrambled to steady himself and lifted his hand to wave at Pastor Banks. The magazine slipped down the roof, the wind tossing the pages. Michael watched as his guide to roofing fluttered to the ground. He sighed and shook his head. It would have been easier to hire someone.