Trusting Him

by Brenda Minton

  "And leave you disillusioned and brokenhearted?"

  "I'm not sure if the brokenhearted thing is possible." She hugged the cat that had crawled into her lap. "He doesn't need me, Faith."

  "He's a strong guy and he doesn't need to be fixed."

  "I hate it when you're right." She stood and let the cat drop gently to the ground. "I should be getting home. Gran will call and she'll be worried."

  "Call and tell her that you're here. Why don't you spend the night?"

  Her phone rang. She shot Faith a look as she raised it to her ear. Like Faith had anything to do with it ringing.

  "Maggie, it's me." Michael hesitated. "Are you at home?"

  "No, I'm at Faith's." She slid her friend a look, hoping to silence any outbursts she might make.

  "Good. I wanted to make sure you're okay."

  "I'm fine." She ignored Faith's knowing look. "Thank you for calling."

  "I've been thinking about what you said." He spoke in a rush that stopped her from hanging up. "You said I'm a friend. I want you to know how much that means to me."

  She nodded her head but the sob in her throat wouldn't let her answer. Biting her lip, she inhaled and tried to control the sting of tears.

  "Maggie, if you're not okay, I could come over." His voice was strong, confident, reminding her that he was a man who could not only take care of himself but the people around him.

  "No, don't come over."

  "Promise you'll call if you need anything?" A short pause followed. "Even if you doubt me, remember, I'm always a phone call away. I have to go now."

  "Michael?" A few tears rolled down her cheeks. She dashed them away with the back of her hand, but more slid down to replace them. Stupid hormones, that was all it was, nothing more. She needed some chocolate and then everything would be okay again.

  She closed her phone and dropped it into her purse, for a few seconds avoiding Faith and the questions she would ask. She sat again. When she looked up, Faith was waiting and obviously trying not to be too nosy.

  "He wanted to check on me." Maggie explained as she reached for a doughnut from the box Faith had pushed toward her.

  "Sweet."

  "Is that all you're going to say?"

  Faith shrugged. "I'm not sure what else to say. Maybe I should tell you to be careful."

  Maggie thought about it, and then she decided that it might be too late for warnings. Her heart was involved. To what extent, she wasn't sure.

  * * *

  The house sat on the corner of a street that Michael didn't care for. He'd been here before, but not for a long, long time. He hadn't planned on coming tonight, but the phone call that came in the middle of the conversation with Maggie changed his plans. Cars were parked in the front yard, people milled around, going in and out the open front door.

  He parked a few houses down and walked up to the party. A few people spotted him, recognizing him and shouting that he was back. He wasn't, but he would let them think what they wanted.

  A crowd of guys stood in the front door. He shoved past them, bumping past those who didn't seem to know where they were or who was around them. The odor of the place burned his nostrils and gagged him.

  He spotted Vince in a corner talking to people that Michael knew were connected. He pulled out his phone, held it to his ear and before he closed it, he snapped two pictures. He was walking through the house in search of Katherine when Vince walked up behind him.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Michael turned, fixing a smile on his face. "Visiting you."

  "That's dangerous, Mike. You aren't really welcome here."

  "I'm paying my debt."

  "I've got a package you can deliver."

  "I'll have to think about that."

  "Why are you really here?" Vince's greasy hair fell forward, his gray eyes, glassy and red, seemed to have problems focusing. Hard to believe he had once been an honor student with a promising future. "Are you looking for a fix?"

  "You need help, Vince." Michael hadn't planned those words. He glanced over Vince's shoulder and searched the crowd. "And I'm not here for any real reason, except that old habits die hard."

  Vince pushed him back against the wall. His arms were thin, weak. Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around with no trouble. He had Vince pinned when he saw her standing in a corner. "I just saw the reason I came."

  "Katherine." He shouted her name above the din. She looked his way, her eyes widening in fear, and then she was gone.

  "I helped her out of that joint you took her to." Vince laughed and the laughter turned to a rasping cough.

  "I heard. And I'm not going to let you get away with this." He shoved Vince away and took off out the back door.

  He didn't find her. But that night the faces he'd seen haunted him. Kids with hollow eyes, gray skin and hopelessness etched into their features. Kids who didn't stand a chance if someone didn't do something to help them.

  And Katherine had worn a similar look.

  He picked up the phone and called his new sponsor for a reality check. If he wanted to be someone that Maggie could trust, he had to learn to trust himself.

  * * *

  Michael had asked her to trust him. Maggie wanted to, but could she? Especially when he had disappeared after church the previous day, with no goodbye and no explanation for his hasty departure.

  The shouts of kids flying kites on the lawn carried through the open office window. Her gaze swung to the clock on the paneled wall. Almost three-thirty. The telephone rang and without taking her gaze off the book in front of her, she reached to answer the insistent ringing.

  "Is your grandmother okay?" The voice, slurring and male, sent a chill up her spine. Maggie's hands numbed as she gripped the phone tighter.

  "Who is this?"

  "Have you checked on her today?" The caller laughed.

  Maggie slammed the phone back onto its cradle. Shaking and cold, she leaned forward, burying her head in her hands. The door to her office opened and Pastor Banks stepped into the room.

  "Didn't you hear me knock?"

  Maggie looked up. "No, I'm sorry."

  "What happened? Are you okay?"

  She nodded and then shook her head. "I don't know. I need to go home and check on my grandmother."

  "Is she sick?" Pastor Banks handed her the cup of ice water on the edge of her desk. "Here, take a drink and tell me what's going on."

  Maggie sipped her water. "Someone called. They asked me if my grandmother was okay."

  "You don't know who it was?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. No, I didn't recognize the voice. He sounded drunk."

  Pastor Banks picked up her phone and dialed. "Betty. I just thought I'd call and say hi. How have you been?"

  Maggie listened to the conversation. Pastor Banks paced the room, stopping at the window. He held the phone with his shoulder and pulled the curtain back to look out. When he turned around, he smiled.

  "Sure, I'll tell her. Talk to you later." He set the phone down on Maggie's desk. "She's fine. She wanted to make sure you remembered that she wouldn't be home tonight. She's quilting with friends."

  "I just don't understand what's happening."

  "Someone's trying to scare you." Pastor Banks sat across from her desk, swiveling in the chair. "Any idea who?"

  "The only one I can think of would be Chance's dad. Or maybe whoever has been calling— "

  "What's going on?"

  Maggie looked up, smiling at Michael, but the gesture not feeling quite right. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Pastor Banks motioned toward the other empty chair. Michael ignored the offer and instead stood near the window, arms crossed over his chest.

  "Did something happen?"

  "Someone called and asked if Maggie's grandmother was okay." Pastor Banks tilted his head to one side and scratched at the beard he was trying to grow.

  Michael sat, his intense eyes pinning Maggie. She looked away, concen
trating on the condensation the glass of ice water had left on her desk. She brushed the moisture off the wood. Michael moved the cup.

  "Maggie?"

  "It scared me, but I'm fine now." She looked up, forcing a smile that she didn't feel.

  Part of her wanted to let herself need Michael. The other part, the grown-up part, wanted to sit here and show the world that she didn't need anyone. Hadn't she done a good job of taking care of herself, and her grandmother? She could handle this problem, too.

  "I need to go." Michael stood, his usual smile replaced by a concerned frown. "I'll be back in time to help you with the kids. I promise."

  Maggie started to ask him where he was going, but he didn't give her a chance. Without a backward glance, he was gone, the door closing with a click of finality as he walked out. Maggie lifted the empty glass and twirled the ice.

  "I don't think we should let him go." Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she closed her eyes for a few seconds of much needed composure time.

  "He's a grown man, Maggie. And I think this is something he has to take care of."

  "This? I don't even know what this is." She piled up the paperwork on her desk, straightened the edges and then picked up the stack and shoved it in a desk drawer. "I have a group of kids waiting to plant flowers."

  "Maggie."

  Pastor Banks followed her to the door. She turned, positive she didn't want to hear his advice at this point. The fatherly look he gave her pushed away her resolve to be independent.

  "Yes?"

  "Give Michael a chance. He has to learn to believe in himself, and that will be easier if he has people who believe in him."

  "I'm helping him in every way I can."

  "I didn't say help him. I said believe in him."

  She didn't see the difference. Or maybe she did, but she didn't want to stop and think about word definitions right now. She wanted to ignore the growing turmoil she felt and how it seemed connected to Michael Carson.

  What had happened to her nice, quiet life? The answer was simple: Michael Carson had invaded.

  "I'm really trying."

  "I know you are. Remember that not one of us is perfect, and a person fighting an addiction has a serious battle to fight." He closed his eyes for a brief moment, opened them and smiled. "I guess I don't have to tell you that."

  "No, you don't. But maybe I needed to be reminded. But while we're trusting him, he needs to do some trusting of his own. He needs to know that he can talk to us."

  "I think he's probably trying. And remember, right now we're just speculating. We're not sure what's going on, so we're drawing conclusions on our own."

  "I hope you're right."

  Pastor Banks put an arm around her shoulder for a loose hug and then he walked away. Maggie walked out the back door, plastering on a smile for the benefit of the half-dozen teens who were waiting for her.

  It would have been easier if she hadn't been remembering her mom walking out the door, promising everything would be okay and she was really going to quit using.

  Chapter FifteenMichael walked into the church at nine o'clock— hours after the kids had left for the day. He knew Maggie was still here, her car was in the parking lot and a light glowed from her office window.

  What would he tell her? He couldn't tell her the truth about where he'd been. He just hoped that in time she would forgive him.

  As he walked down the hall he could hear contemporary Christian music at a slightly insane level. The music vibrated with electric guitars and crashing drums. He laughed in spite of the heaviness in his heart.

  At the door to her office he stopped and peeked around the corner. She wasn't working. She was leaning back in her seat, pounding on her desk with her pencil. He stepped into her office and she looked up. No welcoming smile turned her lips. She didn't even say hello. He understood. He deserved her anger.

  "I'm sorry." He moved close enough to see the red around her blue eyes. Tears. She had cried and it was his fault. He wanted to tell her it would never happen again. He couldn't make that promise. Not yet.

  "Of course you are." She looked away from him.

  "Maggie, I couldn't help it. I had to take care of something."

  She nodded, but he could see that she didn't believe his excuse. If he was in her place, would he? He crossed the room and squatted next to her chair. She didn't move, not even when he touched her arm.

  "So, what is your excuse?" She dropped her pencil on the desk and scooted her chair back. "People who don't keep promises always have very good excuses."

  He put a hand on her arm to stop her from moving away. How many times in her life had people broken promises to her? He didn't want to be one of those people. She made him want to be the person she could count on.

  His prayers lately had focused on that.

  "I went to check on your grandmother, and to make sure that call had nothing to do with me. But, Maggie, I can't tell you more than that." He exhaled on a sigh. "And I can't stay."

  "Of course not." She pinned him with an angry glare. "Michael, were you with them?"

  Them? Did she mean was he doing drugs again? Her distrust hurt. But then, he had hurt her. Maybe they were even. He cupped her cheeks with his hands and forced her to look into his eyes.

  "Maggie, you have to trust me."

  "No, I don't. You have to earn trust."

  "I have earned your trust. I'm sorry about tonight, but this doesn't make me a drug dealer…or your father."

  She breathed in, turning her face away from his touch. He wanted to drag her into his arms and promise her that he would never hurt her. The distrust in her eyes stopped him.

  "No, you're not my father." She leaned back from him. "At least you're here."

  "And I want to always be here." Another promise he didn't know if he could keep. "Why don't you tell me what is really going on?"

  He reached to turn down the stereo and then he sat down on the edge of the desk. Maggie looked away from him, her eyes focusing on something he couldn't see, but what he speculated were flashes of memories she kept locked inside.

  "My mom died of a drug overdose. She promised she was clean and that she would stay clean."

  Michael sighed, unsure of what words would fit the moment. He could make promises, but she had learned at an early age that promises got broken. He could be the person who didn't let her down. But what if he did? There were no guarantees.

  "I'm doing my best to be someone you can count on."

  "I know that."

  "Maggie, I have to go, and I'd really rather you not stay here alone."

  "I'm fine here alone. I've been doing this for a few years now."

  "Yes, but…"

  "Go, Michael. I really don't need a bodyguard."

  * * *

  What she needed was a friend. The friend that she thought Michael was going to be. Watching him walk away, his words echoed in her mind. He had earned her trust. He wasn't her father. Her heart ached, wanting to give him the trust he needed but not wanting to risk the outcome if he failed.

  Would she always be wondering if Michael would fall? She had spent too many years on that carousel with her mother. Her mom would kick the habit, stress would get to her, she'd fall off the wagon.

  Michael had something to lean on. He had faith.

  She needed to go home. She had been sitting here for two hours, doing nothing, just listening to music, praying and being alone. Why go home to an empty house when she had the empty church?

  Empty house, empty church, empty life.

  That truly stunk.

  She decided that Chinese takeout was in order. She might even call Jacob Simmons again. Another call, another shot at building a relationship. She knew from those few calls that he liked Chinese, too. And he didn't like spinach. Of course, who really did?

  She put everything away, including her bad attitude. The coffeepot was off. One by one, she turned out the lights. At the front door she remembered her keys. She had taken them out of he
r purse and then left them on the desk.

  When she got back to the front door, she froze. The shadow that moved across the steps didn't look menacing, but it shouldn't have been there. She reached into her purse for her mace but couldn't find it. Her fingers hit her cell phone, she pulled it out.

  "You don't have to be afraid, Miss Simmons." It was Curt. She sighed, relieved, but then not. What had happened to his new foster home?

  "Curt, what are you doing here?"

  "I was visiting a friend and I saw the light on inside."

  "I see. Well, don't you think you should let your foster parents know where you are?"

  "Nah, they don't really care." He took a step closer and she could smell the alcohol, which explained the slurred speech.

  "I should really be going, though. My grandmother is expecting me." She knew God would forgive that little lie.

  A glance in the direction of Pastor Banks's house and her heart plummeted. He was still gone. They'd left a few hours ago for a late dinner and a movie.

  "You don't have to go, do you? We could hang out."

  "No, we can't do that, Curt." Her heart was racing, pounding, telling her to react. She couldn't. Her feet felt like lead, her hands were shaking. She wanted to believe he wouldn't hurt her, but something in his eyes told her that he might.

  He took a step closer. She backed up, her fingers trembling as she tried to turn on her phone. He was smiling at her— a young kid with a lot of anger. The smile didn't reach his eyes. Her heart pounded so hard, so fast, it ached inside her chest.

  A single headlight flashed across the parking lot. Maggie's breath caught as she glanced toward the entrance of the driveway. Curt yelled at her and then he was gone, running across the back parking lot and into the dark.

  Michael's motorcycle rolled to a stop and he jumped off, running up the steps to grab her. He pulled her roughly against him while her chest heaved for air and tears rolled down her cheeks. His hands were on her back, soothing her, telling her that it would be okay.

  "I called the police," he whispered near her ear, his breath warm, his hands holding her steady.

  "It was Curt."

  "I know, I saw him. I should go after him."