Trusting Him

by Brenda Minton

  She called Faith, doodling on paper as she waited for her friend to answer.

  "Hey," Faith answered, sounding distracted.

  "Hey, to you, too. What are you doing?"

  "Writing."

  "Oh."

  "Sweetie, what's the matter?"

  Maggie threw a wadded-up piece of paper at the trash can. That didn't help. She wadded up another and tossed it harder, the force making it bounce off the side of the can. "I'm such an idiot."

  "What does that mean?"

  She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out the giant-size Reese's that she'd bought the day before. "I'm an idiot because I'm going to believe in this guy and then he's going to walk away."

  "He'd better not hurt you." Faith, always ready to fight when a fight wasn't needed.

  "That isn't what I mean. I mean, I'm going to end up letting him into my life and then he's going to leave. He'll get tired of working here with the kids. Or he'll get tired of this life and realize there are other things he can do. This really isn't his world. I think he's just a temporary visitor." She contemplated the peanut-butter cup and how good it would taste before she shoved it back in the drawer. "And he might fall back into his old habits."

  Her biggest fear.

  She couldn't admit to Faith that she had been tempted, just for a moment, to let him invade her personal space. How long had it been since that had happened?

  "Maybe you should see him as a man and not a project. Remember, projects are my hobby. He isn't one of your kids. He probably isn't looking for a glass of milk and chocolate-chip cookies."

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I've already made that mistake once, or maybe twice, trying to change someone who didn't really want to be changed."

  "Maggie, he isn't your mom. And he isn't Greg."

  "Well, I'm not going to be the victim again."

  "There you go, that's my friend Maggie talking. You're strong, you're a hero to so many people. Look at the lives you've changed at church with your milk and cookies."

  Maggie laughed and the tightness around her heart eased.

  "Aren't you the encouraging optimist?"

  "No, I'm very jaded. That's why we're such good friends. I see black and white. You see lovely shades of rose. And I love you for that. I love that you believe in all those kids. I'm not so sure that I love that you're starting to see Michael Carson as one of them. He isn't."

  No, Michael definitely wasn't one of the kids. Maggie started to tell Faith how very aware of that fact she was, but she didn't. She could expect the best for her kids, they were easy. She saw possibilities for a better future in each one of them. Michael only raised questions.

  "Why don't you come over for coffee and we'll do some nice, safe online shopping?"

  Maggie nodded, but something outside the window caught her attention. She froze as a shiver of fear slid up her spine and lingered in her scalp.

  "Maggie?"

  She couldn't answer, not when a shadow flitted across the window. Instead she gasped and slid beneath her desk.

  "Maggie?"

  "There's someone out there."

  "I'm calling the police. I'll use my cell phone and you stay on this line with me."

  "No, I don't want the police. What if it's a neighbor looking for a cat?"

  "Maggie, respectfully shut up."

  Not a problem. Besides that, she was shaking too hard to argue. Someone was out there. She could hear them at the window, shoving against the screen. With the phone held to her ear she reached around on the top of her desk for her purse, and her mace. Faith was there, talking to the police, and then saying reassuring things about help being on the way.

  And then she heard the sirens.

  Chapter SixMichael answered his cell phone, easing away from the crowd with an apologetic look for his mother. She sighed and whispered something to the woman at her side about his "church work."

  "Noah?" Why would Noah be calling?

  "There's a problem at the church."

  Michael threaded his way through the crowded art museum and walked out of the building. "What's up?"

  "A prowler call. I had my scanner on and I thought you'd want to know."

  "I'm at the gallery, and I left Maggie at the church. I should have made sure she left or got home safe." He closed his eyes. "Do you think it's Vince?"

  "I don't think he would do that. The police are on the scene now."

  Michael rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the gesture would be a magic cure for stress. It didn't help. He kept picturing Maggie at the church, afraid. And that thought got replaced by the look of panic in her eyes when she'd hurried from the van.

  "Michael, do you want me to drive down there and check on her? I think they were going to escort her home, but I can make a few calls."

  "If I leave…" But then, how could he stay?

  "Mom forgave you for skipping out on her dinner party the other night. This time she won't go easy on you."

  "She'll get over it. Make calls, see if she's okay. Get a message to her that I'm going to be there in five minutes."

  "It isn't too late to call this whole thing off."

  "Yes, it is." He had committed to getting information on Vince. He was already in the game and he couldn't back out now. He also wouldn't let Maggie be hurt.

  His mom took the announcement that he was leaving as well as he thought she would. Her eyes reflected hurt and her pursed lips meant that he would hear about it later. He kissed her cheek and told her he loved her. That softened her a little.

  "I love you, too. I just worry. Michael, I don't want you to do anything that will get you hurt again."

  "Mom, I'm not going to get hurt. I have to check on a friend. On Maggie."

  "Maggie, the girl from church?"

  "Yes, Maggie."

  He hurried from the gallery, glad that nobody tried to detain him to talk. And then he had to drive the speed limit to Galloway, for fear of being pulled over again. He couldn't risk that.

  When he pulled up to the church, the police were still there. Maggie was sitting on the front steps. Faith was with her. He hadn't been needed after all.

  More often than not, Maggie let him know that his presence wasn't even wanted. They had settled into an uneasy truce that sometimes felt like friendship.

  She looked up when he approached. Her eyes were luminous, but there were no tears. Of course there weren't. She looked like she didn't need anyone, not him or Faith. Not surprisingly, Pastor Banks was at the corner of the building, talking to the police. He lived in the house next to the church, he would have seen the lights.

  "Michael, what are you doing here?" Maggie didn't seem at all like a damsel in distress who needed his rescuing.

  "My brother called. He heard the address on the scanner and thought I'd want to know." And he wanted to be someone who could be counted on. He didn't know if he needed to prove that to her or to himself.

  "You didn't have to come over. We're fine."

  "I can see that."

  Faith stood, casting a look at him before leaning to kiss Maggie on the top of the head. "I'm going now. Looks as if the big, strong man is here to take care of you."

  "I don't need a big, strong man to take care of me. I can take care of myself." Maggie smiled though, at Faith, not at him.

  "Of course you can." Faith shook her head and then gave Michael a conspiratorial wink. "Make sure she gets home okay."

  Michael nodded at Faith, and then he tensed. What now? What did he say when his presence wasn't wanted. And worse than that, when his presence was probably the reason for the entire situation?

  "I'm going to talk to the police." He started to walk off.

  "Michael, would you ask them if I can leave? Gran is going to be worried."

  "I'll ask."

  The officer that he approached recognized him, but not in a way that looked welcoming. "Michael Carson, I didn't expect to see you here."

  "This has something to do with me, I just don't k
now what."

  Officer Wayne nodded. "Gotcha, we'll keep that in mind. But now I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We don't need you at a crime scene. We've got enough civilian bystanders lurking around."

  "Fine." He tried to let that slide off. "She wants to know if she can leave."

  "Sure, take her home. She a friend of yours?"

  "I help out here, working with the teens."

  "Strange, I never figured that one." He looked cynical. "She can go. Tell her we might need to talk to her again."

  "I'll let her know."

  Pastor Banks was sitting next to Maggie when Michael walked back to join her. They both glanced his way. He didn't want to know what they were thinking or how many doubts they were having about him. He could imagine.

  "The cop told me to take you home."

  "I can drive myself."

  "Okay, drive yourself and I'll follow you." He tensed, ready for a fight and unwilling to lose.

  "Let him follow you, Maggie." Pastor Banks stood. "Someone saw a guy running away from the church. They said it looked like a kid."

  Michael shot Maggie a look. She glanced away, but not before he saw that flash in her eyes. They were both thinking the same thing. The boy, Curt, from the youth group. He was new, Maggie had revealed, and had only been in the area for a few weeks.

  "Fine, follow me." She took the hug that Pastor Banks gave when she stood. "I'll see you at church on Sunday."

  "If you need to stay home…" he offered.

  "I don't need to stay home, but thank you."

  Michael followed her to the parking lot. At her car they stopped. "Maggie, I'm sorry about…us, earlier. We have to work together. I really don't want there to be a problem between us."

  "There isn't a problem."

  But he thought maybe there was. Maybe that was for the best, for both of them.

  * * *

  Saturday, a week after the prowler and the fiasco of his leaving the art gallery, Michael was summoned to his parents' house for a welcome home party. They had waited several weeks for this, his mother had said, and it couldn't be put off any longer. She wanted the community to know that she was proud of her son.

  Proud? Or maybe ignoring the obvious, that he was no longer welcome in their circle of acquaintances? He wouldn't be the one to tell his parents. He had already broken their hearts once.

  He pulled up in front of the house on the motorcycle he'd bought a few days ago. The driveway and street were lined with cars. Dozens of people had turned out to welcome him. Or maybe they just wanted to see the golden boy gone bad. Didn't they have enough memories of him as the bad Carson? He knew that at least half of these people had witnessed his addiction in action, barging into dinner parties high on meth and other inappropriate party tricks.

  He had apologized to his parents for those days, but that didn't lessen his grief for the pain he had caused them and for the years he had lost that couldn't be regained.

  As much as he didn't want to hurt his mother, he knew he couldn't go in and face those people. Not yet. He didn't want to spend an evening avoiding their curious looks. He didn't want to overhear their whispered conversations.

  He wanted to escape. He wanted to go somewhere quiet, without crowds of people who had no interest in his life or who he was now. These people didn't care about the changes he'd made or what God had done for him.

  He started to pull away and then he saw his brother walk out the side door of the garage. Noah waved and then pushed his too long hair back from his face as he trotted down the sidewalk to Michael.

  Michael pulled off his helmet and brushed a hand through his hair. Noah smiled, an envious gleam in his eyes.

  "You bought a bike." He shook his head. "Interesting way to spend some trust-fund money."

  "It's used, and it saves on gas money."

  "You got me there." Noah glanced back at the house. "Are you ready for this?"

  "Not at all. I'm thinking about not going in."

  "They'll understand if you escape."

  "I don't want to hurt them." It was a little too late for that.

  "Dad knows that it's too soon. He'll explain to Mom." Noah pulled a package of spearmint gum out of his pocket and offered Michael a piece. "Go for a ride, Michael, and clear your head. You might decide to come back."

  "I think I will take that drive. I'll probably be back."

  Before he pulled away, Michael dialed his cell phone and tested his Bluetooth after putting on his helmet. He didn't stop to consider his actions. If he thought about it, he would question his sanity, and his reason.

  "Hello?"

  Michael didn't respond until her second hello. He had pulled out of River Oaks onto the highway. He needed those extra seconds as he shifted gears to adjust to what he'd just done. Common sense told him this was a mistake. It was too late now.

  "Maggie, I'm glad you're still there."

  He listened and thought he heard the shuffle of papers and the soft exhale of a breath. In the background he heard music; a gospel station.

  "Of course I'm still here. I'm overworked, overdedicated, and I think someone called me overzealous. But I'm actually just relaxing, reading a book and drinking a cup of coffee."

  Relaxing. He couldn't have imagined that hearing her voice would have that effect on him, but it did. She sounded as though his call hadn't bothered her. For the time being he didn't hear hesitation or caution in her tone.

  "So, what do you want?" she asked. "And why do you sound so muffled?"

  "I'm on my cell phone, and what I want is a friend I can count on."

  She remained quiet and he wondered what might be going through her mind.

  "Shocked into silence, aren't you?" He laughed into his end of the phone and heard her soft chuckle. She should laugh more often. For some reason she calmed him, made him feel grounded. That didn't really make sense, considering that half the time she acted like she didn't even like him.

  "Yes, you shocked me. Don't tell my grandmother I can be silent. Not that she would believe it." She paused. "So, what do you really want?"

  She hadn't bought it, that he wanted her friendship. But he did. Since he even found it hard to believe, he shouldn't be shocked that she felt the same way. He looked down at the speedometer.

  "There's a party going on in my honor."

  "And so you're driving around in your car? That makes a lot of sense."

  "I couldn't go in." He shifted and slowed to make the next turn.

  "You've lost me."

  "I wanted to know if you would go with me. I know that sounds crazy, and I'll understand if you don't want to go. Why would you want to go when I don't want to go? Right?"

  She didn't answer. He wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. Was she considering her reputation? How it would look to be seen with him, with an ex-con. Or did she care?

  "I don't know…" she started.

  "Is it because— "

  This time she cut him off. "No, Michael, that has nothing to do with it. I just don't understand why you would call me. You have friends."

  "All of my friends have moved on with their lives. They have families now, or activities that keep them busy. The people at my mom's house aren't there to be friends. They're there because they like to gossip, and maybe because they're curious. Or they showed up to support my parents. It isn't about me."

  "So you thought you'd invite me? Why? To give them something to talk about besides you?"

  He wondered at that comment, but knew she wouldn't explain.

  "I'm inviting you because I know where you stand. One thing about you, Maggie Simmons, is you're honest."

  "I'm not sure if you meant that as a compliment, but I'll take it that way."

  "Will you go?"

  She paused. He could hear her steady breathing and her nails clicking on the desk. "I don't know. I'm not really dressed for a party."

  "You look fine."

  Maggie looked up, her eyes widening as he walked into the room.
The smile that sneaked up on him took him by surprise, especially when it accompanied a strange tightening in his stomach. He paused midstride, not at all sure if he should have made this call or followed that action by walking into the church.

  "You know, sneaking up on me could get you hurt." She stood, small and diminutive in a floral skirt and a pink T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a clip and fine strands had come free to frame her face.

  He agreed, she could definitely hurt a person.

  "So, about the party. You'll go? You don't even have to pretend to like me."

  "Is taking me some kind of rebellious 'who cares what they think' plan?"

  "No, inviting you is a moment of weakness. I wanted to be abused by someone I could trust not to stab me in the back." He tossed her the spare helmet that he had carried in with him.

  "What's this?"

  "It's commonly referred to as a helmet."

  "I mean, why did you just throw it at me?"

  "To put on your head so that in case of an accident, you don't hurt that sweet brain of yours."

  "You're telling me that you not only want me to go to a party that I haven't been invited to, you also want me to ride on a motorcycle?"

  "You got it, babe." He took the helmet from her hand and pulled the clip from her hair. Silky blond hair released in a sweet strawberry-scented wave. He put the helmet on her head and tugged the strap tight.

  "I'm not sure about this."

  "You'll be fine. I won't let anything happen to you. Promise."

  She sighed, crossing her arms in front of her as she did. "I'm not sure why I'm saying yes, but okay, I'll go."

  He remained in front of her. At that distance the air around him seemed to evaporate. Her blue eyes were searching his face, asking questions. He knew the answers, vaguely, but they were hidden somewhere in the far corners of his mind and he couldn't get a grasp on them.

  "Thanks, Maggie." He lifted her hand and kissed her palm.

  Her eyes met his. "Let's not go there, okay."

  "I'm sorry. You're right, that was totally inappropriate."

  She nodded. "Yes, totally inappropriate."