He didn’t know exactly how to smooth things over between them, but ignoring it didn’t seem the best way to go. He wasn’t sure which was worse—her avoiding him, or the awkward tension that hovered when they had to be in the same room. How was he going to meet his new goal if she refused to speak to him? Somehow, he had to show her he was legit. That she could trust him. Maybe she was right not to when they were younger. He hadn’t been ready for a heart like hers.
But now...
He wanted the chance to earn it back. To show her that nothing was lost forever. That she and Cody would find their way out of this, with God at their side—and hopefully with him right there, too.
“That’s beautiful, Katie.”
Emma’s sudden voice to his left both warmed him and created shivers on the back of his neck, all at once. Max drew a deep breath to resist rushing to her side and slowly adjusted his cowboy hat so he wouldn’t do something stupid—like sweep her in his arms.
Emma stood behind Katie’s easel, where the perky redhead sat with paintbrush poised, sweatshirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows. She’d painted the barn beside them, complete with rolling golden hills of pasture. A dark blob on the farthest hilltop hinted at a horse. Or maybe a cow.
Max squinted. Maybe a rhino.
“I love the barn. Nice detail.”
Katie beamed under Emma’s praise, and Max had the sudden urge to earn her compliments, as well. He joined them, hesitantly, as one would approach a startled stallion. “Emma’s right. Very nice job.” With the exception of the unidentified hilltop creature, but hey. They weren’t giving lessons here. They were letting the kids express themselves. Speaking of...he had the perfect excuse to talk to Emma.
Alone.
“Join me?” He touched her elbow, trying to ignore the hurt that radiated when she stiffened in response, and led her several yards away where they could talk quietly without being overheard. “What do you think so far?”
Panic laced her eyes before her gaze settled on the easels. “You mean about the paintings.”
“What else would I mean—” Max cut himself off. “Emma. Are we going to ignore the elephant here or go ahead and take care of him one bite at a time?”
A tiny smile teased the corners of her lips. Man, she was beautiful. “I think you’re mixing metaphors.” A spark lit her eyes and ignited his stomach with memories.
“Some things never change.” He grinned. “Remember when I meant to say pretty as a picture, and I said pretty as a catcher?” He’d had a few in him at the time, but he clearly remembered the confused expression on Emma’s face as they sat on the tailgate of his truck, stargazing. And the embarrassment that had flooded afterward. At least she’d thought his blunder was cute.
Or he’d thought she thought so.
Emma snorted, shoulder bumping him like old times. “You do realize by now that it’s picture, not pitcher?”
“Come on, now. I’m not that hopeless.”
Her eyes met his and held for a moment before she directed her attention back to the teens.
Oops. Now what? The sadness in her expression nearly stole his breath. “What is it?” Did she still believe him that far gone, even after all he’d done in her absence? After all he’d cleaned up and changed and accomplished?
A light breeze brushed strands of hair over her eyes, blocking his view of her stoic profile. She didn’t reach up to brush them back, so he did.
“Just...thinking.” She fluttered her hand to wave off the topic, as though it was as easily shooed as a summer bee. At least she didn’t dodge his touch this time.
He turned so he faced her, giving her his full attention. She deserved nothing less. “Elephant, remember? Here’s a fork.”
“That’s seriously gross.” But the smile was back, and the sadness slightly dissipated. Mission accomplished—even if she still kept her profile to him. Then she sobered. “You’re not hopeless, Max.”
Well, at least there was that. “You do realize the same is true for you?” He wanted to touch her again but knew she’d spook. Not to mention they stood behind ten teenagers all eager for gossip and rumors—including Emma’s own son.
“I know.”
But did she really? Her lips pressed together in a thin line, and she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her forearms with her hands. He started to shrug out of his zip-up hoodie, but she shook her head to stop him. “It wouldn’t look right.”
“What? Teaching these guys how to act like a gentleman?” But he zipped it back up at the stubborn glint in her eye. Time to change the subject before he pushed her any farther into a corner. He’d gotten two smiles out of her and broken the iceberg that had risen between them last night. That’d have to be enough for now. “So, what do you think?” He gestured to the easels.
This time she launched right into her opinions, saving them from any more painful banter. “Katie’s painting is detailed, like you said, which I feel lends to her personality. She likes things neat, together and orderly. But it’s also bright and happy—how she feels right now. She’s in a good place.”
He nodded, absorbing the picture. Maybe too good a place. Was anyone that happy at a camp for troubled teens? It wasn’t like they were here for s’mores and Monopoly. He still felt as if something was missing from Katie’s file, but he couldn’t read information that wasn’t there. Maybe he was just paranoid.
“What about Stacy’s?” The abstract swirls of blues, greens and purples sort of lent to a teenaged version of van Gogh’s Starry Night—Max’s favorite painting for its cryptic beauty. He hoped Emma picked up a good impression from it, too. He worried about Stacy. Of all his students, she’d been the most blocked in their One4One talks.
“To me, it looks like twilight. And I think those splotches at the top are supposed to represent stars.” She tilted her head to get a better view. “But the important part to realize about hers is the color choice. The blue color family represents peace, relaxation and tranquility. That hints at how she’s not nearly as hardened inside as she appears on the outside. There’s a wall up, for sure—but the foundation of it doesn’t go deep.” She hesitated. “Maybe one of us will reach her.”
“If anyone can, it’s you.”
Emma winced at the compliment, as if she didn’t fully believe it, but he didn’t care. He’d keep sprinkling the truth on her until her confidence grew. He’d seen her with the girls and knew what she had already accomplished with them. She might not see it, but he did. So did God. Nothing was being wasted, however small it might seem on the surface.
Hopefully that same principle would remain true as he pursued her.
He wanted to ask about Cody’s painting next but didn’t dare. Then Emma’s gaze lingered on it, and he knew from her quick intake of breath the diagnosis wasn’t as favorable as the others. The painting in front of the boy contained a careful red circle that took up nearly the entire canvas. A thick black slant slashed across the center of the circle diagonally, the universal symbol for no.
Max frowned. No...no what?
One glance at Emma’s crestfallen expression determined she wasn’t sure, either. No to Camp Hope? No to authority? No to rules? Or was it a more positive portrayal, as in, no more fighting? No more crimes? No more misbehaving?
He couldn’t be sure. But he didn’t need a course in symbolism to conclude that the dripping red and black paint spoke of intense feelings, likely anger. Maybe even hatred. Cody was dealing with something hard-core, and until their next One4One chat, he wouldn’t get a chance to find out. He couldn’t exactly march over and demand an explanation. The last thing they needed was to judge the kids based on their project. This was supposed to be a safe exercise, a chance for them to express themselves, though he did caution them ahead of time about keeping the paintings PG—no nudity or curse words, or they’d lose recreation time for a
week.
“What about Tonya’s?” He couldn’t see the girl’s entire canvas from here, but it had to be more encouraging than Cody’s—and right now, the best gift he could give Emma was distraction as well as prompting her to use her training productively. He hated the helpless gleam in her eye and sent up a quick prayer that God would redeem their situation ASAP. Something would give, soon.
It had to.
Emma straightened her shoulders, and he wanted to applaud the way she gathered herself together, despite the trauma still lingering in her eyes as she focused on Tonya’s project. “I’m not sure. I can’t tell.”
They both eased sideways several paces until they could see around her bent head, still hunched over her painting as she did detail work at the bottom. The top of Tonya’s easel was covered in pastel stripes, representing a sunset or sunrise.
“I still can’t see the rest. It looks like a self-portrait, maybe? Those look like her black braids.” Emma craned her neck as she spoke.
Max did the same. The painting held promise, what he could see of it—much less amateur in style than the others. Tonya was either a natural or had taken classes at some point. The eyes on the figure she was painting appeared nearly alive, while the cheery background hinted at a lighthearted mood that well complemented the young girl in the drawing.
Then Tonya leaned back, paintbrush lowering, and studied the portrait, allowing Max and Emma a full view—of a beautiful, African-American girl with braids, vivid eyes...
And a distorted, wide-open jaw that yawned and swirled off her face.
He shot a startled glance at Emma, whose eyes widened in recognition. When she finally spoke, it was to confirm what Max already knew.
“Tonya has a secret.”
Chapter Fifteen
Emma never thought she’d ever seek solace in a dusty barn stall, but the repetitious motion of running a currycomb through Remington’s mane somehow brought as much relaxation as her last spa trip.
Maybe more.
Remington shifted his weight, bobbing his head slightly and leaning into her smooth stroking. Maybe the extra attention was just what the horse needed, too.
Emma slowed as she worked through a tangle. Tonya’s painting from yesterday weighed heavily on her spirit, almost as much as Cody’s did. She whispered to Remington. “Did Tonya tell you her secrets before she fainted?”
Remington’s ears flicked forward at her voice, and then he snorted through his nose.
She kept brushing, trying not to dwell on the fact she had just resorted to talking to animals. “I understand. Confidences are confidences.”
Sort of like how it seemed evident Stacy knew something about Tonya that she wasn’t telling. Did the older girl know Tonya had been faking her illness the other day and was holding it over her? It seemed a valid possibility, but Emma couldn’t reconcile with the idea that Tonya would care so strongly about pretending to be sick. It’d be easier to just admit the truth now and take the consequence than cater to Stacy’s whims.
Or would it? Emma sure wasn’t taking that advice herself.
She pushed the uncomfortable thought aside, finishing the tangle before moving to the next portion of mane, the dark strands wiry between her fingers. The girls were finishing up breakfast, and she’d excused herself to start chores early and have a minute to de-stress—before the constant chatter, brooding and occasional whining from her charges began. Even after the optional Bible study that morning before breakfast, they seemed grumpy, as though they sensed something in the air. Maybe because only half the kids had attended the study.
She felt disgruntled herself. Sitting across from Max and listening to him read the Bible for fifteen minutes left her breakfast lodged in her stomach like a rock, heaping guilt in generous dollops on top.
And her mother...Emma paused, her fingers knotted in Remington’s mane. Her garden-side revelation had brought more regret than relief, though it was sort of freeing to know a living soul finally knew her dirty little secret.
Slowly, she unclenched the strands of horse hair and resumed her brushing, stomach knotting instead. Her mom had taken the news a little better than Emma had suspected. But her words lingered.
Broken Bend’s bad boy transitioned into a solid, God-fearing man, Emma. If you’d told me the truth from the beginning, I could have let you know that.
After Emma’s immediate defense, which went over her mom’s head as usual, more words left a permanent mark.
It could have been different, Emma. So much different. For all of you.
The weight of those words latched on to her shoulders and clung for dear life. She might as well name the baggage she’d just acquired, because it wasn’t going anywhere.
Her mother was right in one regard. But in another, she still didn’t understand. No one did. And unless they had been pregnant, rejected and alone, watching the man who promised that his love for her transcended any addiction live out his lie in neon color, well—they never would.
Besides, who was to say that it wasn’t intentional? If she’d stuck around that day she caught Max in the middle of a deal, would he still have eventually changed and devoted his life to helping others? Or would she somehow have derailed God’s plan even further?
Regardless, whatever Max had become didn’t change what he’d been.
She dropped the brush in the grooming bucket she’d snagged from the tack room and rubbed Remington’s neck. “Don’t count on this behavior from me regularly.” Weird that she wasn’t already craving a hot stone massage treatment by now, one of her more frequent rewards for her stressful career in Dallas. Maybe there was something to be said for open skies and fresh air, after all.
Now, if only it’d work on Cody.
Remington snuffled the hand she held in front of his nose, and she grimaced at the soft, wet horse skin. “It’ll take more than that to convince me, you know.”
“Convince you of what?” Max appeared in front of the stall door, and Emma jumped. A petite blonde stood beside him, wearing a T-shirt with the fire department logo blazoned across the front.
Emma stepped away from Remington, his head bobbing at her abrupt movements. “Nothing.” She tried to smile and pretend like she wasn’t caught talking to a horse, though with Max’s lifestyle now he probably wouldn’t have thought twice. But who was his friend, and what would she think? “Just waiting on the girls to get here.”
“You might want to go check on them.” Max frowned, glancing at his watch. “Breakfast was cleared away fifteen minutes ago, and they’re supposed to come straight out here for chores.”
“Maybe they needed a bathroom break.” Emma started to open the stall door, and Max stepped back to give her room.
“This is Caley, by the way. Brady’s wife.”
Caley held out her hand, her grip warm and solid. “Nice to meet you. I’ve—” She swallowed the rest of her sentence and finished with a smile, instead. But the unspoken words lingered. I’ve heard a lot about you.
Emma still wasn’t sure how they made her feel, but the dividing line teetered more toward good than bad, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either.
Time to go. “Thanks. I better go check on the girls.” Max was probably being paranoid, considering how long girls took prepping in the bathroom and knowing how they did anything possible to legitimately stall their chores, but at least this way she wouldn’t have to make awkward small talk with Caley. If Brady knew about her, then it went without saying Caley did, too.
Max’s voice followed her down the barn aisle. “Caley’s here to meet the girls, so why doesn’t she go with you?”
She paused and turned slowly. “Sure.” Talk about awkward. Hopefully Caley wouldn’t want to talk about her and Max. Or anything to do with Max, for that matter. Not while her heart still tottered on her sleeve, he
r secret one breath away from being revealed.
Caley fell into step beside Emma as they made their way to the dorm. “Max wanted me to come speak to the girls at some point before camp was over, sort of show them what it looked like to follow a career dream.” She lifted one slim shoulder in a shrug. “I’m a firefighter, and he thinks they could use encouragement, since most of his campers don’t have good home lives. Sort of like I’m proof they can succeed even when they feel the odds are stacked against them.”
Her defense against Caley dissolved slightly. “That’s not a bad idea.” Wow, Max thought of everything. He seemed truly invested in each of his campers lives, especially to go to such effort to cover every element of their future.
Caley’s eyes shone. “I’m happy to help. I’ve been through some stuff in the past, and while it’s probably nothing like these girls, we’re all in need of grace.”
Wasn’t that the truth. Her steps faltered. She knew God gave grace to sinners...but what about when those sinners knew better, like she did when she messed up by getting involved emotionally and then physically with Max? Did that cancel it out? Or did she just have to pay more consequences, like now, with Cody’s rebellion and her own struggle regarding her feelings for his dad?
Thankfully they reached the dorms before she could determine an answer—if there even was one.
Emma stepped inside the temporary building. “Girls? There’s someone here to meet you. And by the way, you’re late for chores.”
Katie and Stacy looked up with guilt-ridden expressions as they hunched on the side of Tonya’s bed, whispering furtively. Tonya was nowhere to be seen.
Emma stopped and crossed her arms. “Okay, that’s it. What do you know?”
Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected CowboyHis Ideal MatchThe Rancher's Secret Son Page 53