Trusting Him (6 page)

"Join the crowd. This isn't exactly something I planned for my life. And I doubt that you thought you'd be thrown into the role of supporting someone who is going through this."

"So, we'll get through it together." The words slipped out and once again she knew she'd said the wrong thing. But this time for a different reason. She couldn't be the one getting him through this. She had already tried that. She had been the supporting one, trying to help her mother.

"Don't worry, I won't hold you to that. But I appreciate you listening to me." He stood and reached for her hand to pull her to her feet. "And in case you're wondering and you're too polite to ask— I'm clean."

"I know that."

"So, let's go tell the kids the truth about my life."

She stood and turned to walk up the stairs. On the last step she stopped and waited for him to join her. He hadn't moved. "Are you ready for this?"

"I'm ready."

The shuttered look that fell over his expression closed her out. That was fine. She didn't mind being closed out. It meant she didn't have to get involved. Of course, it felt as though she was already pretty involved.

"If you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure. Just a moment of doubt."

"We all have those."

"You're right." He took the steps two at a time and passed her. When he reached the door he opened it, motioning for her to enter first. "After you."

End of conversation, just like that. Maggie let it go. She had a group of kids waiting for her. They were her ministry— not Michael.

The kids were behind the church playing basketball. Michael followed Maggie out the back door. As they stepped outside, she turned, offering him a smile that she probably meant to be encouraging. He didn't feel encouraged. He had dropped by to visit the kids from time to time; he and Chance had connected, but this time it felt different. This was a step forward. This meant really immersing himself in this ministry.

It also meant that he now had to be up front with the kids. They needed to know the truth, the whole truth, before they heard rumors and invented their own stories about his life.

"Hey, guys, let's all sit down on the picnic tables." Maggie's voice grabbed the attention of the kids. The ball dropped to the court, to be picked up by Chance. The huddle of kids climbed on the tables, watching expectantly.

They were looking at him.

Maggie reached behind her, grabbing his hand to pull him forward. "Michael Carson is going to start joining us on a regular basis next week. He'll be here at least three afternoons a week, and he'll help us on different weekend activities."

The enormity of his commitment hit home. Doubts whirled around inside him, calling him a fraud and making him question if he had the ability. What if he let them all down?

"Hi, guys." He stepped forward. Maggie's hand dropped from his arm. He hadn't realized until it was no longer there how much that touch had meant to him. "I guess I've met most of you, so today isn't as much about introductions as it is about getting real."

Maggie moved from his side. She took a seat at the picnic table, next to one of the girls, and nodded for him to continue. His gaze remained locked with hers.

"Most of you probably know that I've been in prison for the past four years." He grinned and Maggie responded with a smile that settled in her blue eyes. "I guess I can start by saying that I'm an addict. I'm also a Christian. I've been clean for four years, and I plan to stay that way."

The kids remained quiet. There were nine of them today. They were an odd assortment. One girl looked to be fourteen. She had wire-framed glasses and a soft expression. Timid. But she looked happy. Another girl had dyed her hair black, and her gaze seemed to dare him. The boys— most were sweaty teens who wanted to play basketball and chase girls. One boy looked wary and angry with the world.

They wore expressions that ranged from contented to hopeless to lost and angry. From
Jesus Saves
to
I Hate My Life,
like the carvings on the desk in Maggie's office.

He understood those feelings. He had gone from one extreme to the other. Maggie's encouraging smile brought him back to the present. He smiled down at her, ignoring the array of questions flashing through her eyes.

"If any of you have questions, I'm willing to give you the answers that I can. If I can't answer, I'll tell you why. If you don't have questions today, then maybe tomorrow. Or next week. But I'm always here if you need to talk, if you need anything."

Always here. He realized the importance of those words. Other people were counting on him. Maggie. She was counting on him, too.

The boy with the lost look shook his head. Michael waited, wondering what he would say, if he would say anything.

"Whatever, man," the kid whispered. He glared at the table, his jaw muscles clenching.

"Whatever?" Michael took a step forward, stopping when he saw the worried look on Maggie's face. "What does that mean?"

"It means that adults always say they're going to 'be there for you.' But most of them aren't."

"I'm sorry." Michael was. He was more sorry than he could say that this kid felt that people weren't there for him. What had happened to create cynicism in someone so young, with so much life ahead of him? "I can't help what other people have done. But I can tell you that I'm going to be here. And I think that you already know that Maggie is here. She's always here."

The kid glanced in Maggie's direction. He sort of smiled. "Yeah, she's here."

Michael didn't know what that meant, but it frightened him for Maggie's sake.

The last kid left at six o'clock. Maggie did a final check of the building and walked back to the kitchen where Michael waited for her. She held up her keys.

"Are you ready to go?"

"More than ready. That was more exhausting than I ever imagined. And those guys can really play ball."

"You'll get used to it. And don't forget about Friday night."

"Friday night?" The puzzled look told her he'd already forgotten.

"Bowling. We try to have a regular activity at least twice a month on Fridays. This Friday is bowling, and I thought you might like to go. Look, if you have something else to do…"

"No, I'll be here."

She shrugged and he followed her out the back door. His cell phone rang as she was locking up. As hard as she tried to ignore him, his conversation carried.

"I don't think I can see you. But if you need help, I'm here." He looked away, his brow furrowing. "No, I don't think so. Katherine, it isn't too late."

Maggie walked on to her car.

"Wait." Michael jogged up to her as she was digging through her purse, looking for her keys. "Sorry, I had to take that call. It was an old friend. One that I can't help."

"You don't have to explain to me."

"I wasn't explaining, I was just talking. I grew up with Katherine. Now she's in a place where I don't know how to help her." He looked away, but when he turned, his smile was back in place. "Are you going home, or do you want to grab something to eat?"

"I'm going home. I have to help my grandmother with the yard."

"I see. Yes, I guess I should head home, too. I keep forgetting that I have a lawn to mow."

"See you Friday, then." She reached for her door handle, but his hand shot out, circling her wrist. When she glanced over her shoulder, his hand dropped to his side. "What?"

"Maggie, the boy with the glasses, the one who doesn't think he can count on anyone. Be careful of him, okay?"

"What?"

"Be careful. I don't know, maybe I'm just being overly cautious."

"You are. And don't worry, I am careful." She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. "Friday, Michael. Don't forget."

He was still standing in the parking lot when she pulled onto the street. His cell phone was to his ear. She couldn't help but wonder who he was talking to and if he was falling back into old habits.

"Vince called again." Michael opened the front door for his brother. It was Thursday and he'd just had his second meeting with his probation officer. That should have been enough stress for one day. If only that could be the end of it. "I'm not sure if I can take this."

"You have to decide." Noah pulled off his black-framed glasses and slipped them into the collar of his shirt. "Nobody is going to force you. If you want to call Officer Conway and talk to him, do. If you don't, then hang up when Vince calls. Get your number switched to unlisted."

All good points. Michael tossed a crumb of bread into the corner of the room and avoided Noah's questioning look. "It's for the mouse."

"I don't think I want to hear this."

"Probably not."

"Why don't you get a dog? Normal people have dogs."

"The mouse doesn't eat as much."

Noah walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of tea. "Michael, make a decision."

"I have an NA meeting tonight." Michael had survived the kids. Narcotics Anonymous, his first meeting, sounded simple after a dozen or so teenagers.

"Michael, you can't discuss this at NA."

"I know that." He brushed a hand across his face. When he looked up, Noah was at the door. He never stayed for long. "I think I can do it. The next time Vince calls, I'll talk to him. He says I owe him money. He's trying to use that on me."

"So let him. Use it as a way to get in. As an informant, the police want one thing from you. They want names. You're the only one who can decide what you want to do about this."

"What I want to do?" He sat in the sideways-tilting recliner. "I want to move past this. I want for this to not be my life."

For a minute Noah's expression softened. "I know. Remember, someday this will be the past. Right now you have to concentrate on what has to be done. Get it over with so that you can move on. Make the move into Vince's life, Michael."

Noah made it sound so easy, like something that people did on a daily basis. But who really went out of their way to make a deal with the devil?

M
ichael pulled over when Vince drove up behind him a few hours later. The call that Noah had suggested he make had been made. There would be no turning back. He parked in a well-lit parking lot, not wanting this first meeting, one that he wasn't really sure about, to be in a dark alley somewhere.

He let Vince approach him. In his rearview mirror Michael watched as the man he once considered a friend stepped out of his Corvette. Four years had aged Vince. He was thin, his skin was sallow and he looked ten years older than he should have.

A person couldn't put drain cleaner in their body without doing serious damage.

"Michael Carson, long time no see." Vince leaned in the window. "How's church life?"

"Fine, it's working for me."

"Is it, Mike, or are you just making a good show of recovery?"

Michael stared straight ahead, finding the answer that he needed. "Draw your own conclusions, Vince."

Vince laughed. "You were always a hard one to figure. I'm not sure yet if I even want to talk to you. But I do know one thing. You owe me."

"That's your opinion." Michael reached to turn off the radio. "I have to go."

"See you soon?" Vince put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "You know, Mike, I don't like to play games. If I find out that you're playin' me, you'll be sorry."

"I'm not playin' you, Vince. I'm trying to stay out of jail." He moved his shoulder, shaking Vince's hand free. "I might see you around."

Vince stepped back from the car and Michael pulled away. His heart raced in his chest, needing a way out. He needed a way out. This time, though, he wasn't alone. If God was for him, who could be against him?

He had something else to keep him moving forward. He had Maggie and the kids at church. For the first time in a long time he felt needed, and like he could be of use to someone.

Michael's first outing with the kids, and Maggie almost felt sorry for him. She had watched him climb into the driver's seat of the van full of teens, looking slightly on edge. Were the tight lines around his mouth due to the kids or had something else happened? Probably the kids. They could be an overwhelming bunch. Especially when ten of them showed up, like tonight.

Ten teenagers, two adults and one twelve-passenger van, on their way to the bowling alley. Maggie wondered if this would fit her grandmother's idea of a promising date.

She glanced sideways at Michael, who had insisted on driving. His concentration was on the road, but from time to time he glanced into the rearview mirror to check on the kids. From beneath half-closed eyes she studied his profile, strong with a generous mouth that smiled often, and hazel eyes flecked with green. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew the color. His steady gaze often connected with hers, startling her with the intensity of his attention.

He glanced her way and caught her staring.

"Something on my face?" He grinned and then flicked his attention back to the road.

"No." She forced a smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare." And she couldn't finish, because she wouldn't lie. The truth would have sounded ridiculous.
I'm staring at you because you're so stinking gorgeous you don't look real.
Or maybe,
It scares me to be here in the dark with you and I'm glad we have ten teenagers to keep us honest.

Both thoughts were so out of character that she quickly pushed them aside. These were "Faith" thoughts. Faith was the quirky one. Maggie had always been pegged as the serious one. Her entire life she had been the kid the teachers labeled as "shy" and often keeping to herself. Her mother would read the notes on the back of the grade card and ask her why she didn't play with the other kids.

The list had been long. She felt silly in her yard-sale clothing, the other kids teased her for being shy and they asked why she didn't have a dad.

Faith hadn't come along until later in her life to drag her out of her shell. And Maggie had been there for Faith when she'd struggled with cancer treatments.