Love Inspired May 2015 #2

by Missy Tippens

  “And she’s his mom.” Matt’s tone grew icy. “Now for you, Chris. Hitting is never the answer.”

  Chris hung his head and didn’t say a word.

  “I know you got mad, and Aaron said some pretty bad stuff, but you never have to hit someone. Do you understand me?”

  Chris nodded, his guilty gaze flickering up to Matt’s face. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  Chris wasn’t the one Matt was worried about, though, so he turned to the other boy.

  “Aaron, I’m going to discuss this with your mom and dad, and I don’t want to hear that you’re picking on other kids again.”

  “It’s what my dad said,” Aaron muttered.

  He’d definitely be speaking with Aaron’s parents, now. Matt put a cap on the rising anger inside him.

  “Your dad and I can discuss that. Now make up with Chris right now and you both say you’re sorry.”

  The boys grudgingly faced each other and mumbled apologies.

  “Like you mean it,” Matt said, his tone sterner.

  “I’m sorry I said that,” Aaron said.

  “I’m sorry I hit you,” Chris added.

  “Good.” Matt heaved a sigh. “Now you can both go back in.”

  The boys scuffled back toward the main library door and Matt stood outside in the hot noon sunlight. He wasn’t ready to face the classroom full of kids just yet, and he glared out into the parking lot. Was this the way Chris had been treated in his last school? How on earth had the news of Chris’s birth spread that quickly through Haggerston? The last thing he wanted was to have Chris picked on for the rest of his schooling, and he could certainly understand why Chris had thrown the first punch.

  The library door opened, and Matt glanced up to see Chris coming back outside. He slowly walked up to where Matt stood, staring down at his shoes.

  “What’s the matter, Chris?” Matt asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Chris dug a toe into the pavement. “I don’t want to go back in.”

  “Why not? Still mad?”

  “I guess.”

  “If you give Aaron a chance, he might end up being your friend.”

  “What if he keeps bugging me?”

  “He won’t. I’ll have a word with his parents.” He leaned over, giving Chris a grin. “His mom is pretty tough. You should see her.”

  “I mean, what if he keeps bugging me in school?”

  “Then you—” Matt stopped himself from saying, Then you come to me, and licked his lips. “Then you tell your mom right away, and she’ll know what to do.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Your mom is really smart, you know. You should give her a chance. Schools don’t let kids bully other kids.”

  So why hadn’t the other school stepped in sooner and fixed this before it got out of hand?

  Chris looked up at Matt skeptically. “I saw you kiss my mom.”

  Matt rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

  “She’s not your girlfriend, you know,” Chris announced. “She doesn’t want to be.”

  That statement stung, and Matt pressed his lips together, choosing his words carefully. “It wasn’t your mom’s fault, Chris.”

  “How come you did it?” the boy demanded.

  “Because she’s pretty and smart. And she’s got a really nice laugh, and she’s kind. You know what a wonderful person your mom is, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Chris admitted reluctantly.

  “Well, I think she’s pretty great, too. So I kissed her.”

  “Are you sorry?” Chris asked skeptically.

  Matt chuckled and looked out over the library parking lot. “No, Chris. I’m not sorry I did it. I’m sorry that it upset you, though.”

  Chris only looked partially mollified and they stood with their backs to the library, facing the parking lot with a scattering of cars and pickup trucks. A soft breeze whispered around the building, but it wasn’t enough to compensate for the heat of the high sun.

  “Look, it isn’t my business, Chris, but one day your mom will probably want to get married again.”

  “She doesn’t need to,” Chris said. “She’s got me.”

  “And you’re a great kid. But don’t you want a dad one day?”

  “No.”

  Matt chuckled softly. “It’s okay, buddy. Your mom loves you a whole lot and I have a feeling she wouldn’t take that step unless you were ready for it.”

  “Do you want to marry my mom?” Chris asked, eyeing Matt cautiously.

  Matt pressed his lips together. “You don’t have to worry about that, buddy.”

  It was an evasive answer, and he knew it, but announcing to the kid that the idea of coming home to Rachel every day was pretty pleasant wasn’t going to smooth anything over today.

  “Are you going back in to be with the other kids?” Matt asked, glancing down at his small companion.

  “Nope,” Chris replied.

  Matt pulled out his cell phone. “I guess I’d better call your mom, then, so she can pick you up.”

  * * *

  Rachel pulled up in front of the library and heaved a sigh. She’d driven five miles an hour over the speed limit to get here as soon as possible, but now as she parked the car, she wished she had a few more minutes to think this through. The sun shone unforgivingly down on the little brick library, shining onto the heads of the big firefighter and the small boy who stood out front.

  More fighting. That was the thought that hung prominently in her thoughts. Her son, her sweet boy with the bright eyes and captivating smile, was fighting out his frustration again. How could she fix this?

  Matt stood next to the boy, his arms crossed over his chest like a soldier on duty. His gaze was steely, but when Chris said something, his expression softened and he leaned closer. They exchanged a few words and Matt nodded and gave a weak shrug. Even though she couldn’t hear their words, she was fiercely grateful for that small gesture of gentleness toward her boy, and she pushed open the door and slammed it with a bang.

  “Hi,” Matt said as she reached them.

  “Hi.” She sighed. “So...how is everything?”

  Matt looked down at Chris, who remained studiously silent, an expression of exaggerated innocence on his face. She knew that look well.

  “You said he was fighting?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Matt looked down at Chris again, seeming to give him a chance to say something, but she knew her son better than that. Chris stared up at her mutely.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.” She was used to these calls by now, and while she had no idea how she’d take care of it, she knew that whatever was chipping away at her son was her responsibility. She reached out and put a hand behind his shoulder, nudging him toward the car.

  “Wait.” Something flickered in Matt’s gaze and he glanced down at Chris. “You mind if I explain it to her, buddy?”

  “I guess not,” Chris muttered.

  “It wasn’t all Chris’s fault. The other kid was a bully.”

  “What happened?” Rachel dropped her hand and Chris edged back again.

  “The other kid was making fun of the fact that Chris is adopted.”

  She winced. “Why are children so cruel?”

  Matt glanced down at Chris. “I talked to the other boy, and I’ll have a word with his parents about it. I doubt he’ll be bugging Chris again.”

  Rachel sighed, relieved that someone seemed to be taking Chris’s side for a change. He’d gotten a reputation for being “the bad kid” in his last school, and it had gotten to the point where any scuffle that happened was deemed Chris’s fault. She bent down in front of her son.


  “So he teased you about being adopted?” she asked quietly.

  “He said my real mom didn’t want me.”

  Real mom. Those words stabbed, and she attempted to hide her reaction with a smile. “I am your real mom, sweetie.”

  “I know. But my other mom.”

  She nodded. She knew exactly what he meant—she just wanted to nab the title of “real mom” for herself. “So you hit him?” she asked softly.

  Chris nodded.

  “Remember how we talked about this before? You’ve got to tell a grown up, remember? A grown up can help you to sort it out. If you hit someone, no one cares what bad thing they said. They only care that you hit. Hitting doesn’t solve anything.”

  “Sure it did,” he retorted.

  “And what did it solve?” she asked, shaking her head.

  “He stopped, didn’t he?” Chris said with a victorious smile. She smiled wanly in return.

  “We’ll talk more about this later.” She stood up and pulled a hand through her dark waves. “Chris, I left a snack for you in the car.”

  “What is it?” he asked skeptically.

  “A bologna sandwich,” she said. “Your favorite. Why don’t you get your snack at the car while I talk to Mr. Bailey a little bit, okay?”

  Chris looked ready to argue but shrugged his thin shoulders instead. “Okay.”

  He headed over to the car and Rachel touched the unlock button on her key fob with a responding beep from the car. She watched him silently, her heart full of anxiety, sadness and an overflowing abundance of love for her troubled boy.

  “You okay?” Matt asked.

  “I’m fine,” she replied with a sigh. “I’m worried about Chris. He’s—” She swallowed. “I was hoping a change in scenery might make a difference for him.”

  “I have a feeling he was upset about more than the comment,” Matt said slowly.

  “You mean, last night,” she concluded.

  “Yeah. He talked to me about it, man-to-man.”

  “Oh?” Rachel eyed him in interest. “What did he say?”

  “He basically told me to back off,” Matt replied with a low laugh. “And I’m not to consider myself your boyfriend.”

  Heat rose in Rachel’s cheeks and she shook her head. “He has enough to deal with right now.”

  “I know.” Matt put his hands into his pockets and looked out into the parking lot beyond Rachel, his blue eyes clouded in thought. “He’s a sensitive kid, and I know you don’t want to hear this, but I was kind of relieved to see him belt the kid.”

  “Why would you say that?” she asked. “This was the problem in the other school. He kept fighting. He fought everyone, and no one could figure out why. I thought someone might have been picking on him, but the teacher insisted that Chris was the one to start it. I’ve been working so hard with him, trying to show him that hitting isn’t the answer.”

  “Look, there are two kinds of boys.” Matt dropped his gaze down to meet hers. “There are the boys who get picked on and curl up into a ball, and there are the boys who get picked on and stand up for themselves. I’m not saying that punching another kid is the answer, but at least he’s standing up for himself. He’s not beaten.”

  Rachel nodded. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

  “Nope.” He shot her a wry grin. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  Rachel smiled, rolling his words over in her mind. “So you don’t think I have as much to worry about as I think I do?”

  “I think he’ll be okay.”

  She sighed. “The thing is, in the other school, he was considered the bully.”

  “But why was he lashing out?” Matt asked.

  “That’s the million-dollar question, and he wouldn’t say. The teacher had already decided he was trouble, and I think that had something to do with his reluctance to talk. By the end of the school year, I was just glad to have him out of that school and safe at home with me for the summer.” She glanced up as the library doors opened and a portly man carrying a suit jacket over one arm came toward them at a leisurely pace. Matt glanced in the direction she was looking, and she noticed the tension rise in his posture.

  “Hi there,” the man called.

  “Abe Bernard, this is Rachel Carter,” Matt said, looking between them. “Rachel is Chris’s mom.”

  “Ah, the fight.” Mr. Bernard nodded sagely. “Is it all taken care of now?”

  “Looks like,” Matt replied. He turned toward Rachel. “I should probably get going.”

  Rachel nodded quickly. This was obviously the man from the hiring committee, and a feeling of regret rose inside her. If Matt didn’t get this job, she didn’t want it to be because of them.

  “Abe, how about I meet you in the truck? I’ll just be a minute.”

  Abe nodded, gave a polite salute to Rachel, then headed away from them.

  “The interviewer?” Rachel whispered.

  “That’s the one.”

  “And you came out here and talked things through with Chris and me instead of showing what you could do in there.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the library.

  “Yeah, well...” Matt shrugged.

  “Matt, this might not be good for your chances. You shouldn’t be putting us before your interview. You want this.”

  Matt was silent for a moment; then he shrugged. “I saw the look on Chris’s face, Rachel. He needed a hand.”

  Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them back. “Thank you, Matt. You’re a really good guy.”

  A smile crinkled around his eyes and he brushed a hand over her shoulder. “I’d better get going.”

  She nodded, and Matt caught her eye one last time. “Don’t be too hard on the kid.”

  “I won’t.”

  As Matt sauntered off toward his truck, Rachel turned in the other direction, heading back toward her car, where her son waited, his cheek full of sandwich.

  “Let’s go home, sweetheart,” she said quietly.

  “Are you mad at me?” Chris asked cautiously.

  She glanced at her son, the last crust of his white-bread sandwich in one hand and his big blue eyes fixed on her face.

  “Not mad,” she said, reaching into the backseat to give his knee a squeeze. She started the car, then craned around to see out the back window as she reversed out of the parking space.

  Lord, help me, she prayed in her heart. It’s starting again, and I still don’t know how to fix it.

  * * *

  That evening, Matt stood in his kitchen, a cup of hot coffee between his palms. It had been a long day. Mr. Bernard had chatted with him briefly after the library presentation, then driven off in the direction of South Maitland in a swirl of dust, and Matt had a sinking feeling that his hopes of getting out of this town had left with him.

  He took a slow sip of coffee, inhaling the comforting aroma. Was it so bad to miss out on this chance?

  An image of Rachel rose in his mind—her hair damp from the rain, springing up into curls around her face. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, and he thought—not for the first time—of the feeling of her warms lips against his.

  Lord, could I really just walk away from her...head out of town and never look back? Or would I regret that for the rest of my life?

  He was thirty-five and still single, so he knew exactly how rare and beautiful it was to find a woman who made him feel the way Rachel did. Maybe there was a silver lining to being passed over for the South Maitland fire chief position. He wasn’t on his way out of Dodge, but at least he’d be close by Rachel and Chris for a little while longer. Maybe he could help Chris get a handle on the bullying situation before he left, too.

  Matt found himself feeling almost cheerful about the whole thing, and he picked up the
most recent pile of mail that he’d left on his counter and sorted through the envelopes. There were a few bills, a couple of envelopes addressed to Occupant, which went directly into the trash, and the local newspaper. He shook the paper open and glanced over the front page.

  Three Years after Fatal Fire, Broxton Park Elementary to Reopen.

  The headline was followed by a full-color photo of the school in flames next to a new snapshot of the school now, ready to open once more to the surrounding community. He closed his eyes, the old tension closing in around his heart.

  “Just stop!” he barked aloud, slapping the paper against the counter, then tossing it into the trash. How long was this town going to rehash this tragedy? Was it horrible? Absolutely. He saw it almost every night in his dreams. Was it senseless? Of course. But the journalists writing these articles didn’t seem to care what their constant rehashing did to anyone else. They were simply scraping around, looking for a topic that made the town of Haggerston look even remotely newsworthy. Haggerston was a sleepy little place with nothing to report but the canned preserves contest at the local fair and the Quilting for Equality program that a few church ladies had started up to raise money to give to charity. Haggerston wasn’t even remotely newsworthy until the fire, and now the reporters stuck in this town wouldn’t let up.

  They hadn’t tried to save her. They hadn’t been the last one to look into her terrified face before she went limp. What right did they have to haul up her memory every other month in order to make a headline in a small-town rag?

  Except no one else was complaining, so who was he to get indignant with a town that wanted to hold on to little Natalie as long as possible?

  He put down his coffee with a thud and sucked in a deep breath.

  I don’t think I got this job, Father, and I don’t know how I’m going to stay here.

  God knew what he needed. He knew what this was doing to him. Why was it so hard to leave his future in God’s hands?

  His cell phone rang, and Matt glanced down at the number, ready to press Ignore, but he froze when he saw the number. It was South Maitland. He let out a pent-up breath and picked up the call.

  “This is Matt Bailey.”

  “Hi, Matt.” Mr. Bernard’s voice was cheerful. “I’m probably calling during your dinner hour, aren’t I?”