Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2

by Ruth Logan Herne, Allie Pleiter

  Max noticed a familiar look in Alex’s eyes. The one that signaled “a conversation.” Trouble was, Max hadn’t quite figured out if the look meant a brother-in-law conversation or an employee conversation. “Sure, I could eat. If I can get in there okay.”

  “I scoped it out on the way in,” Alex admitted, which told Max this meal wasn’t as spontaneous as it had sounded. “You’ll be fine.” Most places in larger cities and towns, that was true—the world was becoming a more accessible place every day. But Gordon Falls and other historic small towns still held their share of challenges. The Gordon Falls Community Church hadn’t had a decent wheelchair ramp until last year.

  “So,” Alex said carefully once they’d settled in with a pair of hefty sandwiches, “JJ is worried about you.”

  Max snickered. “JJ’s always worried about me.”

  “Let me rephrase that.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “JJ is worried about you and Heather Browning.”

  “I’ve already been given the full speech, Alex.” Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t need it from you, too.”

  “Hey.” Alex put up his hands. “I’m actually on your side here. But you know JJ. Friendships are hard for her, and she is worried you’ll mess things up with Heather. You can’t blame her, given your previous track record.”

  “I haven’t dated anyone since the accident. I’ve been a very good little injured boy.” His words had a little more edge than was perhaps necessary, but this was a sore spot. “If I wanted to be mothered, I’d have moved back to Ohio.” Max ripped open his bag of chips. “Go arrange for JJ to meet Luke Sullivan. The guy’s a predator on wheels. Gave me a really inspirational speech about the leverage of pity when scoring with the ladies. You can tell JJ she has nothing to worry about from me.”

  The look of surprise on Alex’s face was satisfying. People held Sullivan up as a beacon of inspiration. Max had half a mind to let a few things slip to the media about what a boor the guy really was, only he didn’t have the heart to shoot any bad press toward Paralympic sports.

  “Charming. Remind me to take him off my list of potential spokespersons. Just proves there can a jerk factor in any business, hmm?” Alex took a bite, but he was still forming a conversation—Max could see the next question percolating behind his boss’s eyes. “So you want to tell me what exactly is going on between you and Heather? I saw you walking out of the church service with her, and that was a pretty wide grin you were wearing for a guy who just got dragged into a funeral.”

  Max still hadn’t decided how much he wanted to get into this with Alex. “I get a kick out of helping her help Simon. You ought to understand how that feels.”

  “Oh, I do. I get that. But Simon wasn’t out on the riverbank for half an hour with you. And Simon hasn’t prompted you to ditch dinner with us—well, not yet anyway. I’m glad you showed that night, but it would have helped if you hadn’t outlawed any conversation regarding Heather at dinner. JJ thinks you’re hiding something from her. You know how she gets.” Alex pointed at Max with the straw of his soda. “Are you hiding a relationship with Heather?”

  Max put his sandwich down hard enough to tumble the bread off one side. “I do not have a relationship with Heather Browning.”

  Alex was fully engaged now, in that communication mode that made him an unstoppable force. “Do you want a relationship with Heather Browning?”

  Just because he needed to stall, Max said, “Is that really any of your business if I do?”

  “Not at all. But I’m going to ask anyway. She’s not really what I’d pick as your type.”

  “I like her.” He felt safe admitting that—JJ had probably already guessed that much. “Only the timing is way off.”

  “Sort of.” Given the terrible timing of Alex and JJ’s meeting, the argument didn’t hold much weight with Alex. “Maybe not, if she’s really special.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’d be better if I liked her a little less, because I’m not quite sure how to...do this whole thing...on wheels, that is. In case you haven’t noticed, I come with a whole lot of extra baggage now.”

  “Everybody’s got baggage. Yours is just easier to see.”

  Alex’s words brought the image of Heather’s scarred leg to mind. She was still among the walking wounded, only no one saw her pain or recognized her fear. “I can barely cope with all the stuff involved in my condition. How am I supposed to ask someone else to take it on?”

  “What if she’s strong enough to take it on?” Alex sat back in his chair. “Look at how she champions Simon Williams’s cause. I think if anyone could make it work, it’d be someone like her.”

  He couldn’t help but think of Sullivan’s words, They only think they can. “I don’t want to get far into this and find out it won’t work. I’d like to think I’m done with breaking ladies’ hearts.” That was only half-true; a tiny newfound part of him was worried it was his heart that would end up broken. He’d been dumped for being a jerk so many times it had almost become a painless game. The thought of someone—especially someone like Heather—breaking it off with him not because he was a jerk, but because of his broken body? That was too harsh to risk. Sullivan was right about one thing: Heather would try so hard to make it work that it would go all the way to the bitter end before she’d admit she wasn’t up to the challenge.

  “You know,” Alex suggested, emphasizing his point with a pickle spear, “you could try something totally un-Max here.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Go slow.”

  “Ha. Funny.”

  “This may be exactly what you need. Have you ever thought about that? You can’t slam through the gears on this one. You have to take it one little bit at a time. That’s completely new territory for you. In a lot of ways.”

  Max couldn’t decide if having Alex in favor of this relationship—and it wasn’t a relationship yet—was a good thing or a bad thing. Alex was staring at him with narrow, assessing eyes, as if he were some kind of puzzle to solve, some new project to tackle. The scrutiny was a little unnerving.

  “You really like her, don’t you?”

  Max decided he couldn’t fight Alex, JJ, Brian Williams and gravity all at the same time. “Yeah,” he admitted. “There’s something about her. She sticks with me even when I don’t want her to, you know?”

  Alex gave him a wily smile. “Yeah, I do know how that feels. When do you see her next?”

  Max tried to keep the anticipation from his voice. “Tonight, but it’s school business.”

  “That’s good. Go slow. But keep me posted.”

  * * *

  Well, Heather thought as she pulled up to the address Max had given her, at least I know why he said to bring gloves and a sweater. The parking lot of the County Ice Arena was full for a Wednesday night in September, but she had no trouble picking out a certain boxy black car in one of the handicapped parking spaces.

  “Are we watching hockey?” she asked Max as he met her at the door.

  He dismissed her question with a wave, rolling into the building. “Nah. Girls don’t like hockey.”

  “I know many women who enjoy a good hockey game.” She couldn’t tell if he persisted with using girl because he forgot she didn’t like it or because he remembered her irritation.

  “But you’re not one of them, are you?” His eyes held a bit of mischief.

  “Actually, no. Which brings me back to my original question. What are we doing here?”

  “That’s not your original question.” Max held up a correcting finger as he swerved his chair around a corner past the skate rental booth. “Your original question was are we watching hockey. No, we are not watching hockey. We are playing hockey.”

  Heather stopped walking.

  Max noticed and swiveled around. “Kiddie-s
itting-down hockey, actually. Okay, well, the technical name is sled hockey, but c’mon, a five-year-old could do this. You’ll be fine. And then you can give Brian Williams a firsthand account of how Simon will survive intact when he joins us next time.”

  Heather didn’t see how hockey, a sport famous for erupting in tooth-shattering fistfights, would pass the Brian Williams safety standards. Still, she followed Max around to the far corner of the rink, where a section had been cordoned off with a pair of goals and some devices that did indeed look like sleds. A pair of miniature hockey sticks—not more than a foot high—sat in each of the sleds. “You’re serious.”

  Max wheeled past a rink employee, giving the man a high five as he rolled by. “Thanks, Henry.”

  “Anytime, Max.” Henry looked up and gave Heather an enthusiastic but toothless smile. “Hiya, sweetie.”

  “Hello there.” Heather tried to make her wave casual, but it ended up feeling more like a hyperactive flailing than any kind of greeting.

  Henry put his hands on his hips. “You ain’t never done this before, have you? Look at you—you’re a tiny thing, aren’t ya?” He chuckled. “This ought to be fun to watch.”

  “Cut it out, Henry. This is professional. Ms. Browning is from the high school and we’re looking at recreational options for a student.”

  Heather’s eyebrows shot up at the formal choice of vocabulary. While his words were professional, Max’s expression was decidedly personal.

  “Uh-huh.” Henry’s skepticism was hard to miss. “That’s right.” He grinned again and pointed at Heather. “You watch out for him, now. He’s a tricky one.”

  “I’ve caught on to that,” Heather replied. “Exactly how does this work?”

  Max zipped up the fleece jacket he wore—she hadn’t noticed until now that it bore the emblem of Chicago’s NHL team, the Blackhawks—and pulled a pair of gloves from the pockets. “Pretty much the way it looks. Only getting into the sled might be a touch easier for you than it is for me.” With no more explanation than that, Max rolled his chair out onto a ramped section of carpeting laid out next to the two sleds. With the same athletic prowess she’d seen at their first meeting, he maneuvered himself out of the chair and into the long, low sled, lifting his legs into place. “There are usually special gloves and helmets, but we’re not going to get that complicated today. I’ll show them to you, though, so you can report back to Mr. Williams on the abundance of safety equipment. Come on—get in.” He motioned to the second sled as he began strapping his legs in place.

  Max was right; it was pretty obvious how the whole setup worked. Given what a terrible skater she was in the standing position, this felt slightly less perilous—if one ignored the Max element of any activity. She buckled the strap that went over her lap and pulled on her gloves. “Like this?”

  “You know—” Max grinned “—I never thought I’d use the word cute in a hockey setting. Watch the other end of the sticks. They’ve got little teeth on them.”

  “Why?”

  “So you can do this.” With a trick worthy of a rock-and-roll drummer, he twirled the sticks in the air and then sunk them into the ice so that the teeth gripped. Then he pushed off and went sliding down the rink toward the goal at the other end.

  Heather took a breath, set her sticks on either side of her and pushed. It wasn’t as hard as she thought to send her sled across the ice, and she found it much more fun to be daring without the constant fear of falling. They played politely at first, gently skidding the soft, light puck back and forth. As her comfort and ability increased, the game dissolved into a fun frenzy of yelling and cheering, egging each other on to spectacular shots and daring defenses. Each goal scored—and she managed to score her fair share—took the game to a new exuberance...until she tipped over after attempting to cut off Max’s shot at the goal.

  “Watch your hands,” Max said, a bit out of breath as he pulled up next to her, facing the opposite direction. “Give me one arm and I’ll help you up.”

  The rescue brought him precariously close, their shoulders touching as he gripped her upper body to upright the sled. Once up, they were facing each other at very close range. Heather looked up and got an unsettlingly close look at his eyes. They were an intriguing hazel—not quite brown, but neither gray nor green, either. They fit his personality—expressive, unclassifiable and a bit dark around the edges. She’d always thought of him as physically strong, but today Heather felt that strength. He lifted her as if she were a feather.

  Max pulled off one glove, reached up and brushed some ice flakes off her cheek. His touch fluttered through her, her breath short from more than just the marvelous energy of the game. Heather grew warm despite the rink’s chill. He was attractive in a perilous sort of way, knowing what she knew about him. JJ had bemoaned Max’s past trail of broken hearts, and right now she could see why a woman would believe anything he said up this close. From a distance he was all flash and sharp edges, but this proximity offered Heather a glimpse of something completely different. She saw a jumbled man just trying to figure out how to put his life back together. Wondering, seeking, cautious behind all his cavalier bravado. He was much easier to dismiss from a distance, but so magnetic up close.

  He did not move his fingers from where they brushed her cheek. He did not take his grip from her shoulder. He didn’t back off one tiny bit. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet and rough.

  That was the real question, wasn’t it? Being so near to him felt both nice and precarious at the same time. He understood her, accepted things about her other people couldn’t hope to understand. And yet she wasn’t ready to trust him to keep those things safe and unharmed. “I just lost my balance for a moment.” It was true in more ways than one.

  “But you’re okay?”

  “Fine.” Her answer came out as more of a squeak than a word.

  “Liar.” She wasn’t anything close to fine, and they both knew it. He took his hand from her cheek, and she felt the loss in more than the rush of cold air against her skin. “I don’t...know...what to do here. I’m not sure where this goes, or if it goes anywhere. My balance is sort of...off, too, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do.”

  “JJ doesn’t want me anywhere near you. Outside of school, that is.”

  Heather managed a nervous laugh. “She told me I should steer clear of you. That you would try something and I shouldn’t fall for it.”

  He became the little brother just then, embarrassed by his big sister, his smirk disarming. “You fell all by yourself there, kiddo.” There was a spot on his own hair where flakes of ice from their scuffle had settled like snow, and she longed to reach out and brush it off. She wondered whether his wavy hair was soft or coarse. He finally broke his gaze and looked down, fiddling with one of the strap buckles on the sled. “I’m still figuring out how all this goes together. I used to be...well, let’s just say JJ had good reason to warn you off. I just don’t know if all this—” he waved his hand over his legs “—makes it better or worse, or even if it’s possible.”

  “Of course it’s possible.” She replied so fast it rang like a platitude. Suddenly it felt like both the right answer and the wrong answer. “I mean, you should be—”

  “Please.” A bit of the edge returned to his voice as he cut her off. “I can’t bear to hear the ‘full and happy life’ speech. Not from you.” His bitterness pushed all the warmth from the air between them.

  “It’s more complicated, but that doesn’t make it impossible.”

  Max eased their sleds apart. “Alex would tell you climbing Mount Everest is complicated but not impossible, but that doesn’t mean everyone should do it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Max tried to “go slow,” staying away from school for the next two days, not returning until his next meeting with Simon after school
Friday. They played one-on-one basketball and talked about the prospects of hockey.

  In the parking lot after the game, Simon tried on one of the hockey gloves Max had given him to test. “How’d it happen?”

  Max looked up from the sled he was putting into his van. He’d brought it to show Simon, hoping it would further convince him to come play hockey sometime soon. Simon was clearly interested, but with ice, sharp blades and the potential for aggressive play, it was going to be an uphill battle with Mr. Williams. “How’d I get my dashing good looks?”

  “No.” Simon looked sheepish. “You know...”

  Max pushed the sled fully into the van and turned to face Simon. He was surprised it had taken Simon this long to ask. “You mean how’d I get my wheels?”

  “Yeah. You haven’t ever told me about your accident.”

  Handing him the other glove of the pair, Max hit the button that shut the van door. “You haven’t asked me. I figured when you wanted to know, you’d ask.” He looked at Simon. Once the kid’s face grew into those big blue eyes and he grew his hair out a little longer, Simon could swing some serious charm. Despite the shyness, the boy was genuinely curious about things, and that made him a good listener. “It doesn’t have to be the first thing everyone knows about you, you know. It’s a part of you—a big part—but not all of you.”

  They wheeled together to the stretch of grass beside the school parking lot. “I always see it in people’s eyes, you know?” Simon said. “Like they need to ask but think I’ll be upset if they do.” He shrugged. “I’m kinda used to my condition—it’s not like it’s a whole new tragedy or anything.”

  Whole new tragedy. Max was sick enough of people referring to what happened to him as “a tragedy.” What must a lifetime of that feel like? People usually experienced cerebral palsy from birth, so it wasn’t as if Simon knew anything different, but still. No one’s life should be branded a tragedy. Not anyone who was fifteen, at least. “That’s why I like little kids,” Max offered. “They just ask you what they want to know, right out.”