Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (32 page)

Her silence seemed to break his anger, and he covered his face with one hand. “I’m...sorry.
That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He slammed his hand on the porch rail
next to him. “Hurting you is the absolute last thing I want to do.”

“Faith doesn’t deny pain exists. Pain—and your pain is huge and real—means that you
need faith just to keep going.”

“How do you do it?” There was a seeking desperation in his voice.

“I don’t. I can’t. I just beg God to do it in me, for me, because I’m still a mess
on the inside. It just shows less with me. Only you can still see it. I know you can.”

The Max she’d first met had looked as if he could do anything. The Max who stared
back at her now looked as if faith was far out of his reach. If she knew anything,
she knew that wasn’t true. “I’m not as strong as you think I am, Max.”

“Sure you are.” His voice held a sad resignation. “You’re amazing.”

Heather didn’t know where the courage to do so came from, but she grabbed the footrest
of his chair and pulled it toward her. “I mean I’m not strong enough to do this without
faith. I’ve got mine, but I need to know you’ve got yours.” He kept his hands on the
wheels at first, not letting her pull, but then slowly let go.

“I don’t know where mine went.” All his famous bravado left him, and Heather’s heart
cracked open.

She pulled him closer. “So let’s go look for it. You and me. Because I don’t think
God dropped you, Max Jones. I think He caught you just in time.”

He looked at her for a long, soft moment. She could see him fighting the shadows of
doubt, feel the man he was wrestle with the man he could be. She was shaking inside,
deeply scared, but she would not allow herself to back away or break his gaze.

He brought one hand to her face, trailing the curve of her cheek with the same tenderness
he had at the ice rink. She felt the same swirling sensation, her hands clutching
the front rails of his chair to keep her balance. Without a word, he moved to hold
her face in both hands, looking down at her with a powerful air of wonder. The whole
world held its breath as she rose up to meet his kiss.

Max was light and careful, as if the kiss were stolen rather than freely given. Yet
the way the kiss made her feel was anything but light; it was deep and daring in a
way Heather had not thought she could experience. She’d tried to tell herself Max
was troubled and cocky and careless, but her heart refused to accept that outer shell
as truth. The Max she could see underneath was also strong and seeking and full of
courage. God could do amazing things with Max if he would only let Him back in all
the places he’d shut Him out.

She sent her hands sliding up his arms as he wrapped one hand around her waist. The
kiss was perfection, tender, passionate, exquisitely slow. She let one hand wander
into his hair, marveling at the touch of it.

His sigh rumbled low and smooth like his car engine. “Whoa,” he said, pulling her
hand from his hair. “You’d better not do that.”

She smiled. “I’ve wanted to touch your hair for days.”

He took her hands and placed them on his chair’s armrests. “Ms. Browning—” he cleared
his throat in a mock-professional manner “—every male of the species has a weak spot.
A place where if you touch them just the right way, they can’t even think straight.”

Her grin widened.

“Now you know mine. Be careful with such powerful knowledge.”

She flushed at the sparkle in his eyes. “Does that mean I have to tell you mine?”

Now his eyes fairly smoldered. “I think I already know.” With that, he reached out
and feathered her cheek again, producing such a head-spinning sensation that Heather
had to fight to keep her eyes open. “I promise not to use it against you.”

With a slippery, falling feeling, Heather realized she wished he would.

Chapter Twelve

M
rs. Williams hadn’t gotten any more sleep than Heather had, and she looked it. There
had been a message waiting on Heather’s voice mail, time-stamped just after dawn,
asking for a meeting. “Just you and me. I thought we ought to talk,” Mrs. Williams
had said in a soft and weary voice.

“How are things with Simon?” Heather gestured toward the guest chair in her office.

“Difficult.” She chose the word with care.

“If teenagers are anything, it’s difficult.” Heather came around to pull up the second
guest chair so that they could sit side by side with no formal desk between them.
“If it makes you feel any better, I thought last night ended well, considering the
circumstances. I’ve seen much, much worse over much, much less.”

“Simon’s never done anything like that, ever.” Hurt coated her words.

“He’s finding his way in a new, wider world. They make lots of mistakes at this age.
Did he talk to you this morning?”

Mrs. Williams winced. “Barely.”

“Sometimes ‘barely’ is all you get with boys his age. It’s a rough ride, but if you
can just keep the communication flowing, I know you’ll get through it. Simon is an
amazing young man. He copes with things other kids his age couldn’t handle, and he’s
making good choices.” Given last night’s escapades, she felt compelled to add, “Mostly.”
She put a hand on Mrs. Williams’s arm. “What can I do to help you?”

The woman looked as if she had rehearsed these questions since dawn. “What kind of
man is Max Jones, really? And how much influence does he have over my Simon?”

Heather sighed. “I know you have reservations about Mr. Jones. He certainly has his
share of faults. But you ought to know that I think Max was a large part of why last
night wasn’t a disaster.”

Mrs. Williams ran one hand through her hair. “I don’t think Brian sees it that way.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to. Simon has been trying on a lot of new independence since
he met Max, and I’m sure that hasn’t been comfortable for you and your husband. Only—”
Heather leaned in “—I think it’s really important for someone Simon’s age to have
another adult—one that isn’t Mom or Dad—to turn to. Simon needs someone who understands
what life is like in a wheelchair, and I can’t help him with that. None of the teachers
here can.”

Mrs. Williams’s expression softened a bit. Heather’s heart twisted for the woman—she
couldn’t even begin to imagine the strain of parenting someone like Simon. She’d seen
what her personal trauma—minor and fleeting compared to Simon’s—had done to her own
parents.

“You’re doing an outstanding job with Simon—please believe that. Last night only proves
he’s a normal teenager, not that you are faulty parents.”

She managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“So, hopefully, you can see why I’m really grateful Simon has Max. Try to see it as
a good thing that Simon went to Max last night. Try to be grateful Max helped your
son when Simon was angry enough to make a choice we all might be regretting this morning.”

Mrs. Williams bit her lip. “Simon idolizes Max. He’d do whatever Max told him to do.
I’m sure you can see how unnerving that is for us. Max seems so—” she looked for a
polite term for what Heather knew she was thinking “—wild. The car, the hair, the
risky sports...” She finally gave up and blurted out, “We don’t want Simon to end
up like that.”

Heather folded her hands. It was going to take a little work to keep her personal
opinion out of this professional conversation. “Max hasn’t let his limitations stop
him from doing anything he sets his mind to. These are good things. They’re things
I know you want Simon to learn. Sure, he’s a bit...outrageous, but that’s because
he thinks for himself and isn’t afraid to be different. That’s the most important
value Simon can learn, and I don’t think it will mean Simon will become someone who
doesn’t hold the values you’ve taught him. In short, Mrs. Williams, I think you can
trust Max Jones. He’s earned my trust and Simon’s, and if you give him a chance, I
believe he’ll earn yours.”

“Well...” She stood up to leave, still not looking especially convinced. In fact,
her expression told Heather she was sure trusting Max Jones would lead to a Simon
with ripped jeans, spiked hair and an adaptive motorcycle—if such a thing even existed.

Heather stood up, as well. “May I suggest something?”

“Yes.”

“Try not to let last night limit the time Simon and Max spend together in the next
week or so. Simon’s going to need to talk through what happened, what he felt and
the choices everyone made. The more he understands his own feelings, the better he’ll
be able to tell you what he needs and wants. A little more communication will go a
long way to keeping stunts like last night from happening again.” She touched Mrs.
Williams’s elbow and offered her a warm smile. “Although he
is
a teenage boy. I can guarantee you it won’t all be smooth sailing. I have high hopes
for Simon, and I think you should, too. Even with last night’s drama.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She turned to leave. The slump of her shoulders left Heather
wondering if she’d been remotely successful in comforting this poor parent.

“Please keep in touch. Any questions at all, I’m available. And I’ll let you know
if I see anything that concerns me.”

“Thank you.” With a small nod, Mrs. Williams left the administrative offices. Heather
would have liked it better if she hadn’t clutched her handbag so tightly as she walked
down the hall, but she couldn’t really fault Mrs. Williams. Parenting in high school
was a harrowing business—mostly because being in high school was a harrowing business.
She knew that better than anyone.

Margot Thomas stood in her doorway and waved Heather inside. “I heard.”

Heather put a hand to her forehead as she walked into Margot’s office. “Rough stuff
all around. I think everyone’s okay, though.”

Margot sat down on her desk. “Did you see this coming?”

Collapsing into Margot’s guest chair, Heather replied, “Yes and no. I figured Simon
would eventually do something to brandish his independence, but not this soon. To
be honest, I’m just a bit thankful it wasn’t something on school grounds, where Simon’s
parents could project the blame on us. Everyone could have behaved better, but there’s
a part of me that can’t blame Simon for pushing back against a babysitter at his age.”

“Did he really get all the way from his house to Jones’s cottages by himself?”

“Evidently it’s not that far and all downhill.” Heather smirked. “Who knew?” She felt
her smirk dissolve into a weary sigh. “I’m just so glad Max was there for him.”

Margot leaned back in her chair. “Heather, I want you to understand that I’m speaking
as your friend, not your principal, when I ask, just what is your relationship with
Max Jones?”

Heather held the woman’s eyes for a moment, unsure of her own answer.

“I couldn’t help but notice that your admiration of him seemed to go beyond the professional.”

Heather gripped the chair arms. “I...”

Margot raised a hand “Hang on—I’m not saying that’s bad. Neither of you have done
anything wrong. I’m just saying we might need to take a little extra care here. You
just made some pretty big promises on Jones’s behalf to Mrs. Williams, and I just
want to make sure you spoke as a counselor, not a young woman who’s spent a lot of
time with a very charismatic man.” The older woman’s words were cautious, but her
eyes held a mother’s twinkle. Margot had stopped just short of setting Heather up
on several dates over the past two years.

“I do trust Max. I do think he’s good for Simon. And I do think Mrs. Williams can
trust him.”

Margot took her glasses off. “Why?”

“I thought you said you heard what I said. I think Max is making the most of his life
despite what’s happened to him. I think he represents all kinds of possibilities to
Simon right now, and that’s a good thing. And okay, yes, I think Simon’s parents need
to learn to loosen up a bit, and Max can show Simon how to help that happen. In ways
that don’t involve sneaking out and rolling across town.”

Margot didn’t reply, but her eyes narrowed to say she didn’t entirely agree.

“What?”

“I’m not so sure that was the counselor talking. A counselor might be pushing for
moderation, for small steps of independence that can build trust and bringing in someone
that would be a slam dunk for parental approval. That does not describe Max Jones.”

“No, he’s not the obvious choice, but Simon needs someone daring.”

Margot leaned in. “Does Simon? Or do you?”

* * *

JJ poked her head through a life ring labeled Jones River Sports. “Max Jones saves
the day. Never thought I’d hear that.” Max and JJ were storing some of the warm-season
gear away for the winter after he got home from work Thursday night.

Max fastened the straps on another life jacket and tossed it into the wire bin at
the back of his storage shed. “Where’d you hear such nonsense, anyway?”

“Brian Williams.”

Max spun around. “Brian Williams said that?”

“Well,” JJ amended, “Brian Williams explained a situation that could be interpreted
as you saving the day. I don’t think he shared the view. He doesn’t like you very
much, actually. Some part of him still thinks you put Simon up to his escape.”

“I didn’t.” Max deposited the last life jacket from JJ and shut the bin’s lid. “But
I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in his place. A babysitter? At his age?”

JJ started bringing oars in off the dock. “Brian never leaves Simon alone. Never has,
from what I gather. It’s a bit over-the-top, but can you blame him?”

Max grabbed the oars out of JJ’s hands. “As a matter of fact, I can. They’re smothering
him. Next time he’s going to have to do something twice as dramatic to pull free,
and who knows what’ll happen?”

JJ upended a bucket and sat down on it. “What really happened last night?”

“You just told me you knew the whole story.” Max slid the oars into a barrel.

“I mean after Simon left. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

Max looked JJ square in the eye. “None of your business.”

“It
is
my business if it has to do with you and my friend. Heather looked just like you
do now.” She wiped her hands off on a nearby towel and tightened her ponytail elastic.
“Look, I know I said I wasn’t for you two getting into it, but come on—something is
going on. It’s obvious.”

JJ was military. Trying to keep secrets from her was about as effective as the huge
green flood doors that sat at the end of town—they worked for a while but eventually
things seeped through the cracks. “I like her. And if last night’s kiss was any indication,
I think she likes me. I asked her out to dinner tomorrow night. So, yes, something
is going on.”

JJ’s eyes popped at his blatant disclosure of facts. “You kissed her?”

“Actually, I think she kissed me. But it turned entirely mutual very quickly. And
close your mouth, sis. It’s not like I’m twelve.”

“Heather kissed you? First?” Her shock was rather annoying.

Max headed for the door. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” An oar landed
in the doorway to block his path. “Cut that out. You’re not getting any more details.
I’ll try to behave myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He angled to face
her. “Believe it or not, I’d actually like to do right by the woman this time. If
that’s okay by you.”

JJ looked satisfyingly aghast. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Why don’t you just try to be happy for me? I may have just cleaned up my act, after
all. Stranger things have happened.”

JJ sat back against the wall, squinting at him as if he was a puzzle she couldn’t
quite solve. “I was just thinking the same thing.” She pulled the blocking oar toward
her, her expression softening. “She could be really good for you, Max. And you might
just be good for her. Don’t mess this one up. Not this one.”

“No,” Max said, holding her gaze. “Not this one.”