Chasing Hope

by Dana Wayne

  “No. Pickles.”

  Maddie’s musical laughter floated from the back seat. “You can’t buy a battery with pickles, Max.”

  He glanced at her daughter, and a ghost of a smile appeared then vanished. “No, you can’t.” He looked back at Sky. “Honk when you get back.”

  Before she could reply, he got in his truck and left.

  Sky watched his exit in her rearview mirror. Despite his brusqueness, she still found herself attracted to him. Just like the first time he came in the diner. There was just something about him…

  “Max is really nice, ain’t he, Mama?”

  “What? Oh. Yes. He is.”

  “I heard Miss Gail say he got hurt being a soldier. Is that why he limps?”

  Thoughts scattered, Sky backed out the drive. “What?”

  “Did Max get hurt being a soldier?”

  “I don’t know.” Aware of the child’s boundless curiosity, she added, “And don’t ask him, either. That would be rude.”

  Maddie nodded, but Sky could almost hear those inquisitive wheels turning in the little scamp’s head and made a mental note to talk about boundaries. Again.

  Half an hour later, she pulled into the drive.

  Max leaned against his truck, arms folded across an impressive chest. Heat burned her cheeks when he glanced at his watch and then back at her.

  She jumped from the car and hurriedly explained. “I’m so sorry if I kept you waiting. Everyone was just so slow today.”

  He raised the hood without comment. “Go ahead and kill it, then see if it will start again.”

  “You said it wouldn’t if I killed it.”

  He inhaled and spoke slowly as though she were a child. “When it runs, the battery charges. I want to see if it held anything.”

  “Oh.” Chagrined, she followed his instructions. Blue barely groaned and made no effort to start.

  He hooked up this contraption to the battery, presumably the charger he spoke of, without saying a word.

  A burst of cold air swirled around her, and she pulled the edges of the thin jacket tighter. Winter was blowing in quicker and colder than usual this year. The weatherman warned of a hard freeze this weekend, with sleet and snow possible. As what usually happened with East Texas weather this time of year, temps would go back up to the forties next week. Still, she needed a warmer coat, but that, too, would have to wait. Something else she couldn’t afford.

  “I don’t think it will hold.”

  The terse announcement took a moment to process. “And that means?”

  “You need a new battery.” He wiped his hands on a rag, then threw it back behind the seat of his truck. “But we’ll see how it goes. When will you need to go out again?”

  “I have to pick Maddie up at three-thirty. I have a couple of errands to run, but they can wait.”

  “Leave it on the charger. I’ll take it off when I get back.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.” Flooded with feelings of inadequacy, she hugged herself a little tighter. “I don’t know any of this stuff.”

  He grunted, then stepped into his truck. “I’ll be back in time to unhook it. Don’t mess with it.”

  Before she could reply, provided of course something got past the lump in her throat, he left.

  Sky spent the day on housework, crunched a few numbers—such as they were—and tried in vain to figure out how to add a battery to her must-have list. Max came and left a couple of times but didn’t speak.

  Worse-case scenario, she might ask her boss, Ruby Sloan, to advance her some money, but then she would have to pay it back.

  Tips represented the bulk of her income, but with the holidays approaching, folks didn’t eat out as much, and tips dropped off.

  She had a little money earmarked for the few items on layaway for Maddie’s Christmas and vowed not to touch it. If she had to spend that on a new battery…

  “Nothing I can do about that right now,” she muttered and strived to come up with a way to repay Max’s kindness. The list of options was practically nil, and she eventually settled on cookies. Who didn’t like cookies? And, thankfully, they wouldn’t use up too much of her precious resources.

  Around two, she pulled the last tray of peanut butter cookies from the oven and placed them on a cooling rack, when a sharp knock sounded on the kitchen door.

  A blast of cold air came through when she opened it to find Max on the steps, hands stuffed in his front pockets. “The battery was shot. I put another one in and fixed the window washer. And you were a quart low on oil. You’re good to go now.”

  Before she worked through his brief statement, he turned toward his house.

  “Wait!” She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off some of the chill. She moved to the top step and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Max stopped but said nothing.

  “What do you mean you put another one in?”

  “I thought I was pretty clear.”

  “I can’t—I don’t…”

  He sighed and stepped toward her. “Look, I work at the auto parts store. I get stuff at a discount. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is to me!” She shivered from the cold and growing anger at his presumptuousness. “I can’t pay for it. Take it back.”

  “And how will you get to work and your daughter to school?”

  “I’ll—I’ll think of something. Take it back.”

  “No.” He headed toward his house.

  “What do you mean no?”

  He ran long, slender fingers through non-existent hair. “Look. You’re making a big deal out of this. I don’t want anything, anything from you. Got that? Call it a neighborly act or whatever. I ain’t taking it back.” He looked at her a moment, tight features relaxing a miniscule amount. “Your teeth are chattering. Go inside where it’s warm.”

  “Do you like peanut butter cookies?”

  The warmth inside the kitchen blindsided Max and it wasn’t just heat from the stove or the mouth-watering aroma of fresh-baked cookies. Everything shouted home to him, or at least what he thought home would be like, though he had no personal experience with it. Growing up in a broken foster care system, home was an unfamiliar concept.

  He pulled his thoughts away from that dark corner. Ancient history. He survived. Just like he survived the ambush. Over and done. End of story. Move forward.

  A sudden cramp in his leg reminded him he’d skipped the daily stretches, and he swallowed a groan.

  “Please, sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  His hostess motioned to the table, and he sat in the chair she had used earlier this morning. He stretched his leg out to loosen the cramp. If she noticed his discomfort, she didn’t comment, which suited him fine.

  She placed a mug of coffee in front of him, along with a plate of cookies. One whiff of those peanut buttery morsels, and his stomach growled loud enough to be heard, which brought an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

  Once again, if she noticed, she didn’t comment.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any cream for the coffee since I drink mine black. I do have some milk, though. And sugar.”

  “Black is fine. Thanks.” Suddenly nervous about what to say or do next, he sat there with his hands on either side of the cup.

  The chance I wanted is right here, and I’m a tongue-tied imbecile. Just fricking great.

  “I hope the coffee is all right. It might be a little strong.”

  He took the hint. The rich, aromatic brew assailed his nostrils. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m sure it will be fine.” More than fine. It was perfect. “Great coffee, ma’am.”

  Her cheeks took on a rosy hue, and her face brightened with a smile that lit up the room. “Thank you.”

  Not for the first time, he noticed her delicate beauty and extraordinary eyes. A rich, hazel color lit from within with a golden glow, they darted around the kitchen, not focusing on any one thing.

  Those auburn curls were trussed up with this we
ird hair clip do-dad. An insane urge to remove it engulfed him. He reached for a cookie instead.

  “About the battery—”

  “I love peanut butter cookies.” He downed one whole and chased it with coffee.

  “How much—”

  “They’re my favorite.” He picked up another. “Especially ones like this with peanut chunks inside.”

  “I need to—”

  “Everyone raves about chocolate chip.” He studied the morsel in his hand. “But I bet it’s because they never tasted a peanut butter cookie like this.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and her head drooped a little. “How can I ever repay your kindness?”

  Uncomfortable with such sincere gratitude, he finished off the last of the treats on his plate. “Cookies are fine with me.”

  When their eyes finally met, his breath caught. She was beyond beautiful. She was stunning. He had no idea what prompted the sleepless nights or lonely tears, but in that instant, he desperately wanted to make it all better, and for a split second, he thought it worth the gamble. Hope sparked by the idea shriveled and died when reality set in. I have nothing to offer her but more problems.

  He placed the empty cup in the sink. “Thanks for the cookies.”

  “I made some for you to take home.” She hurried to the counter and grabbed a paper plate wrapped with foil. “It’s not much, but…”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it very much.”

  “Please. Call me Sky.” She chewed her bottom lip and lowered thick, dark lashes before she straightened and met his steady gaze.

  The bottom fell out of his stomach.

  “Thank you…Max.”

  His name never sounded so good before.

  Sky watched Max limp out the door and close it softly behind him. The small kitchen seemed even smaller with him inside and surprisingly empty when he left.

  She sighed and looked at the chair he’d vacated, easily recalling his features in sharp detail.

  His eyes were not just dark brown. They had these gold rings around the edges and were framed by long, lush lashes she couldn’t mimic with a full tube of mascara. His lips were bow-shaped and full, their natural pink highlighted by a dark, scruffy beard, except where a narrow scar crossed his left cheek. Crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes suggested a lifetime of squinting at the sun, as did his tanned, weathered complexion.

  A quick glance at the clock on the wall, and she jumped from the chair. Time to pick up Maddie.

  She smiled when Blue started right away and said a quick prayer of thanks for Max’s generosity. Cookies weren’t enough. Someday, somehow, she would repay him.

  Maddie was unusually silent when she climbed into the back seat a short time later.

  “Hey, Munchkin. How was your day?”

  “…Fine.”

  Sky watched her daughter in the rearview mirror. “That didn’t sound very fine.”

  Maddie looked out the window. “I hate Bobby Franklin.”

  “Hate is a pretty strong word.” Sky eased into the flow of traffic. “What happened?”

  When her daughter didn’t answer right away, Sky probed again. “What happened, Maddie?”

  “He’s a jerk with oatmeal for brains.”

  “Maddie…”

  She caught her mother’s gaze in the mirror and asked softly, “Where’s my dad?”

  Sky’s heart dropped to her stomach. She wasn’t prepared for this conversation, though she knew the day would come.

  Born premature and barely weighing two pounds, Maddie spent the first five months of her life in a neonatal ICU. So many things had to be dealt with. As a nurse, Sky understood the medical piece of it, but the emotional one was altogether different. That particular roller coaster didn’t stop when Maddie came home, either. Her resistance was so low, any infection was potentially life threatening and required constant monitoring, so Sky placed her nursing career on hold to care for her.

  Brett, her ex, honestly tried but couldn’t deal with the day-to-day life of a sickly, premature infant. With Sky’s attention so focused on their daughter, they soon drifted apart. The divorce came two months before Maddie’s third birthday. Within a year, he remarried and moved to Austin.

  By that time, Maddie’s health had improved, and Sky was ready to go back to work. But then Maddie contracted pneumonia and nearly died. Sky endured those agonizing weeks alone. Brett called once but never came to the hospital. His reason didn’t matter; the fact that he didn’t come did.

  She pushed the past away and focused on an answer to the question. “I know this is hard for you to understand, baby, but his job took him away for long periods of time. And people change.” Even now, the hurt and anger lingered. She could count on one hand the number of birthday cards and Christmas presents he’d sent over the last four years. His picture she had made for Maddie had long since been relegated to the bottom drawer of the child’s dresser.

  “Did he love us at all?”

  A sob lodged in her throat, and she struggled for control. Maddie meant did he love her. “He did—does—love you, sweetheart, but sometimes, well, people just aren’t meant to be together.” Eyes focused on the road ahead, she eased through the school zone. “But it doesn’t mean he didn’t love us. In his own way.”

  “But he didn’t stay with us.”

  “No. He didn’t.” What else could she say?

  Maddie didn’t speak again until they were almost home. “Why didn’t you find another one?”

  “Another what?”

  “Male companion.”

  Sky almost hit the trash can on the corner when she turned into the drive. “A what?”

  “A male companion, you know, a boyfriend. Maybe someone who wanted a kid like me.”

  She twisted in the seat to look at her daughter. “Where did you get that idea?”

  Maddie ducked her head.

  “Madeline Adele?”

  “I heard Miss Gail say so one day. Wasn’t sure what it meant, so I Googled it at school.” She squared her small shoulders and looked Sky in the eye. “You need one, you know. Like for when Blue don’t work and stuff. And you need a male companion to talk grown-up stuff to, stead of just me all the time.”

  Shocked at her young daughter’s intuitiveness, Sky couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “You’re really pretty when we go to church and stuff, and I bet a male companion would be easy to find.” Her face suddenly went from gloomy to happy. “I bet Max would do it.”

  “What a piece of crap.”

  Max peeked around the corner of his house where he had just finished wrapping an outside faucet in anticipation of the early freeze.

  Maddie sat on the cold ground in front of her mother’s car, a faded pink bicycle beside her, a broken chain in her hands.

  “What’s a piece of crap?”

  She jumped at his question, then ducked her head. “Don’t tell Mama I said that, please.”

  “Why not?” He bit back a grin. Her mother probably wouldn’t approve of such language from a kid.

  She squirmed on the ground, then stood and faced him. “She works really hard and wanted me to have a bike like the other kids.” The wind whipped her hair around, and she stepped toward him, voice lowered. “We got this one at the Goodwill ‘cause it was cheap.”

  Long, dark curls swirled around a cherubic face, highlighted by eyes of the deepest blue. I bet this is what Elizabeth Taylor looked like as a kid.

  “She’d get her feelings hurt if she knew I called it crap.”

  For a moment, her earnestness stunned him into silence. “Let me see. Maybe I can fix it.”

  “I doubt it. Mr. Brown fixed it three times already. I think it’s broke for good this time.”

  Max inspected the bike and saw the seat needed a new pad, the handle bars were loose, and a couple of spokes were missing from the crooked front wheel, which needed to be replaced. “This may take me a few minutes. Why don’t you go inside? It’s cold out here.”


  “Can’t I watch what you do? I might have to do it by myself next time.”

  He started to argue, but one look at her determined face, and he changed his mind. “Well, fixing the chain is pretty involved since we don’t have the right kind of tool.”

  Delicate brows puckered, and she sighed. “Well, that’s that then. Thanks for trying, Max. And for fixing Blue. It sure made Mama happy yesterday.”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t fix it. I said it would be involved.”

  Immediately, those blue eyes sparkled, and a smile lit up her face. “You can fix it? Really?”

  “I can.”

  “What do we do first?”

  The chain proved to be a pain in the butt, and the fix would only be temporary. He made a mental note to replace it with a new one as soon as possible. Without telling Sky, of course. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed again or feel obligated in any way. Even if it meant he missed out on more cookies.

  Maddie wanted to help, so he let her hand him tools and hold things, but mainly she delayed the process, though he didn’t really mind. She was extremely bright with an inquisitive mind and talkative nature. She always spoke when she saw him outside or at the diner. Their conversations were interspersed with a multitude of questions on a wide range of topics. Why seemed to be her favorite word. No one was more surprised than him to discover he didn’t mind in the least.

  “Max? Can I ask you something?”

  She continued before he had a chance to reply.

  “Are you married?”

  Of all the questions he anticipated, that didn’t even make the top one hundred. Eyes focused on the bike, he shook his head. “No.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He cut his eyes toward her and frowned. “No.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip and dropped her gaze. Low voice soft and gentle, she asked, “Do you like kids?”

  “Only ones like you.” He spoke without thought or hesitation. Her face brightened with a huge smile, and he was glad he did so.

  “You really need a girlfriend.”

  Okay, so that was certainly not something he would expect from a kid, but damned if he wasn’t totally captivated. “You got someone in mind?”