The Runaway Pastor's Wife (23 page)

“Mr. McGregor, how would you explain their
dilemma?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

Mr. Harrison clasped his hands behind his back
as he turned to stroll toward Max’s desk. “Just as I expected. Too enthralled
with the clock on the wall to have even the remotest idea what I just asked
you, correct?”

“No, sir. I just got behind taking my notes and
missed your last couple of statements. That’s all.”

Harrison
stood directly above him now,
his fingers tapping impatiently on his desk. “What is it with you McGregors? Do
you have some sort of attention deficit disorder, or are you just simple? Our
subject matter today isn’t so complex. But since you can’t seem to grasp it,
perhaps you should stay after class so I can spell it out for you—reeeaaal
slooooow.”

Max shifted in his desk as his classmates
laughed. “That’s okay. I think I’ve got it.”

“No, I don’t believe you do. You’ll remain after
class, Mr. McGregor.” The bell rang, mocking Max as he remained seated. He
caught several of his friends rolling their eyes in knowing sympathy as they
left the room. He stole a glance at Megan as she passed his desk.
I’ll wait
for you outside
, she mouthed. Her expression of consolation provided the
only encouragement he was willing to accept.

He set his pen down, folded his arms against his
chest and leaned back in his seat. His long legs crossed at the ankles reached
far under the vacant seat in front of him.

Once the room cleared,
Harrison
paced
himself slowly, putting away his lecture notes and various texts. He
straightened everything on his desk then turned his back and began erasing
names and dates on the blackboard. Max watched his every move, confident it was
all orchestrated for his benefit.

He’s trying to eat you up. Don’t let him get to
you. Remember what Dad said.

Whap!

Max jumped.
Harrison
smiled
sardonically, quite pleased with his little trick. The map behind him still
flapped from his sudden release. Max refolded his arms, silently counting down
his impatience.
One, two, three, four . . .

Harrison
sat down behind his desk at
the front of the room and folded his hands atop his desk. “Well, well, well.
It’s about time you and I had a nice little personal chat like this, Mr.
McGregor.”

“Look, Mr. Harrison, I’ve got basketball
practice starting right now. I’ve got to get suited up. Is there any chance
this could wait until another time?”

“Not a chance. Your sports will just have to
wait. We need to clear the air a bit between us. I’ve sensed a real problem
with your attitude for some time now. And quite frankly, I find that it’s
interfering with your participation in this class. Now I would think that being
a preacher’s kid—”

“Hold it, Mr. Harrison. Let’s leave that out of
this. I’m just an ordinary kid like every other kid in your classroom.”

“Quite the contrary. You are Max McGregor, son
of the good pastor David McGregor. And that makes you stand completely apart
from every other student in this class or any other. The other students look up
to you. They even set their standards by you if for no other reason than the
fact that you’re their preacher’s kid. They expect you to be their leader. Just
as we all expect your father to be the leader of our church, whether we like it
or not.”

Max shifted in his seat. “With all due respect,
Mr. Harrison, that’s where you step over the line. I’m just a student in your
class. You have no right to keep bringing up my father’s name or the fact that
he’s my dad. You think you can keep picking on me just because you have a
problem with him, don’t you?”

Harrison
stood up and slowly walked
over to the bank of windows. “Oh now, just calm down, McGregor. No use getting
yourself all in a huff. I’d just like to
see
a little of that respect
from you. That’s all. You sit there staring up at me with a real chip on your
shoulder. I suppose I do expect more from you than I should.”
Harrison
leaned
against the counter under the windows. “If I were a betting man, I’d wager
there have been quite a few sessions about me at your home. Am I right?”

Max scoffed. “What kind of question is that?”

“Don’t play games with me. It’s no secret that
your father and I don’t get along. Anybody associated with the church or this
school knows that.”

“So?”

“So I’m betting my name has been batted around
your home quite a bit. And most likely, not in the kindest of terms.”

“Look, I still don’t know what you’re asking.
You want me to tell you things that are said in the privacy of our home? I
don’t think so!”

“I’m sure your mother has probably had plenty to
say—”

“What about my mother?” Max stood up, hiking his
backpack up on his shoulder. “Y’know, you’ve got some nerve. It’s none of your
business what my mom or my dad say about you! But I’ll tell you this
much—neither one of them come close to the kind of crap I have to put up with
from you. And you know what? I just made a decision. I’m not putting up with
your crap anymore! You got that?”

Max shoved open the door in a burst of anger,
slamming it back against the wall as hard as he could. Its glass window shattered
in a thousand pieces then dropped like a waterfall, crashing to the floor. Max
stood frozen in his tracks, his back still turned on the disaster behind him.
He closed his eyes, knowing his fate was now surely sealed.

From inside the classroom came the quiet,
unprovoked voice of his history teacher. “My, my, what a temper, Mr. McGregor.
No wonder your mother ran away from home.”

In that split millisecond, Max felt his blood
boil over. He clenched his fists, trying to steel himself. With bold, deliberate
steps, he forced himself to walk away from actions that most certainly would
get him expelled.

Or land him behind bars.

“Max, wait up! What happened?”

Max fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He
unlocked the passenger door of his car and held it open for Megan. He refused
to look at her. “I lost my temper. I broke the glass in his stupid door, okay?”

He slammed the door after she got in then
slammed his own before turning the key in the ignition, immediately throwing it
into reverse. His wheels squealed in protest as he backed out, leaving a patch
of rubber as a black tribute to his anger. Megan quickly buckled her seat belt
and braced her hands against the dash and the door handle.

After roaring out of the school parking lot and
onto the road that sliced in front of the church and school property, Max
rolled his head back against the headrest and slowly let out a long sigh. His
foot moved to the brake as he sought to bring the car back under control. They
drove for several minutes without speaking. Finally, Max pulled off the road
into the Sonic Drive-In. He placed their usual order over the intercom, then
turned to face Megan, leaning against his door.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have peeled out
like that. Are you okay?”

Megan unfastened her seatbelt and turned to face
him. “Yeah, I’m fine now. A little worried about you, though. I’ve never seen
you like this. You really scared me back there.” She sandwiched his hand
between hers. “This is more than the usual stuff from Mr. Harrison, isn’t it?”

Max tightened his grip on her hands. “Yeah, a
lot more. He just kept pushing me! It’s like he knows if he pushes me hard
enough then gives me one more solid punch, I’ll go over the edge. And this time
he actually pulled it off. And I lost it, Megan. I was already heading out the
door, for cryin’ out loud!”

He pulled his hand free and ran his fingers
through his hair.

“What in the world could he possibly have said
to put you over the edge? To make you that mad?”

He stopped agitating his hair. “He brought up
Mom.”

“That’s it? He mentioned your mom and you went
ballistic?”

“Megan, there’s something I haven’t told you. I
was hoping I wouldn’t have to, but it’s killing me not to be able to talk to
you about it.”

“What is it?”

He reached over for her hand again. “It’s about
Mom. She’s been gone for a couple of days and we don’t know where.”

Megan cocked her head sideways. “I don’t
understand.”

“Dad wasn’t going to tell us, I think because he
knew how much we’d worry. But I knew something was up. Yesterday he finally
told me ‘she had to get away.’ Whatever that means. Like maybe an emotional
breakdown or something . . .” His voiced grew husky and he
looked away.

“Oh Max, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?
You know I’d never say anything to anyone.” She held his hand up to her cheek
then gently kissed it. “No wonder you’ve been so upset. I can’t imagine what
your dad must be going through. He doesn’t know where she is?”

“No. She left a note but didn’t say where she
was going. Only that she was having a tough time and had to have some time to
herself. I keep wondering if it was something I might have done.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this. It probably
has nothing to do with you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Max dropped her hand and
stretched his arms against the steering wheel.

Megan paused for a moment, looking out her
window. “No. I don’t want to forget it. What did you mean?”

“Stop trying to read something into it. I hate
when you do that.”

 “Wait a minute. How did this get back to me? I
haven’t done anything. I was just trying to help.”

“Right, Megan. Always the innocent. You’re never
to blame for anything. You never do anything
wrong. You’re always
perfect, every hair in place. No, it’s always me.
I’m
the one who’s
always in trouble. Like I
asked
Mr. Harrison to pick on me! Yeah,
right.”

Megan’s chin began to tremble. “I never said
that! And I don’t pretend to be perfect. How could you say that?”

The waitress approached his window with two
frosty mugs of root beer on a tray. “Just forget it!” he shouted, throwing the
car into reverse again, screeching backward.

Moments later, his tires squealed to a stop at
the curb in front of her house. Megan wiped her nose and gathered her backpack
and purse then opened the door. “Max, I don’t know why you’re so upset with me.
And I’m really sorry about your mom,” her words warbling with emotion. “But if
you don’t get control of your temper, you’re going to chase away everyone who
loves you. And that includes me.” She slammed the door and ran up her driveway.

And for the third time in less than an hour, he
left a trail of black rubber smoking behind him.

“It’s about time! Where’ve you been?” Jeremy
blasted as Max opened the door to the kitchen. “You were supposed to take me to
buy a new pair of Nikes this afternoon. You promised you’d take me after your
basketball practice!”

“Jeremy, you’re not the only one in this family
with a life, okay? So I forgot. Big deal. I’ll take you this weekend, so get
over it.” Max kept moving, heading for the solitude and privacy of his room. He
hoped this little skirmish had gone undetected by his dad and grandmother. No
such luck.