Trusting Him

A few miles from his house he changed his mind about going home. He had seen a motorcycle dealer a mile or so before his place. For a few days he had been thinking about buying one. He hit his turn signal and headed in that direction, the windows down, letting the breeze sweep through the car.

Flashing blue lights disrupted his plans. He glanced in his rearview mirror and groaned. A quick glance down at his speedometer and he realized he hadn’t been speeding. As a matter of fact, he was going under the speed limit.

He pulled to the side of the road, hit the hazard lights button and waited. He had his license, registration and insurance card ready. The officer approached, his hand on his gun, looking prepared for anything. Michael rolled down his window.

“Officer.”

“Mr. Carson.”

Michael waited, knowing he didn’t have a prayer if he got upset. He knew the drill and had been prepared for this. That didn’t lessen the sting. Fresh out of the pen, of course he would be watched. And any wrong move could land him in trouble.

“Could you step out of the car, please? Keep your hands up so I can see them.”

Michael pushed the door open and stepped out, hands up, palms out. He had been here before. The difference this time was that he hadn’t done anything wrong. And that did make him mad.

“Could you tell me what I’ve done?”

“Routine traffic check. You swerved a little back there.”

Michael shook his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Turn around, put your hands on the hood of the car.”

Michael obeyed, but his insides shook. Anger, some pretty self-righteous indignation and a healthy dose of humiliation were doing battle inside of him, and were ready to roll out in one overwhelming emotion.

He flicked his gaze to his right and watched as the officer did a cursory check through the windows of his car. Looking for drugs was Michael’s guess.

“You won’t find anything in there.”

“And I’m supposed to take your word for that? Sorry, I’m not in the habit of trusting felons.” The officer came back. “We’re going to do a field sobriety test.”

“Fine.” Michael turned to face the man, who stood several inches shorter than he did. “I’ll do whatever you say. But I’m clean. I’ve been clean for four years.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Michael laughed at that. “Oh, yes, I did. Do you think drugs don’t get through the doors of a prison?”

“Straight line, heel to toe.”

Michael walked the line.

The steady thumping sound wasn’t familiar. Maggie walked out the back door of the church, trying to figure out what she’d been hearing for the past thirty minutes. For a while she had ignored it, and then she’d thought that maybe Chance had stuck around after they’d finished planting flowers. Now it was starting to grate on her nerves, like the dripping of a leaking faucet.

The red sports car in the parking lot surprised her. Michael Carson. How long had he been here? And why hadn’t he come inside? She walked around the corner of the building and spotted him. He wasn’t alone. That surprised her more than his presence. Chance was with him.

They were playing racquetball off the retaining wall next to the church. Michael would hit, the muscles in his arms tightening and perspiration soaking the back of his shirt. Chance, not so sure of this sport, would come back, making a solid effort.

They were talking. Maggie couldn’t hear them, not from her vantage point. But they seemed to be having a real heart-to-heart. Not wanting to disturb them, she stayed near the building, happy to observe without getting involved. Even if a corner of her heart felt a little envy. Chance wasn’t always the most trusting kid. He didn’t take easily to people outside his social circle. And he wasn’t given to smiles like the one he wore at the moment.

Maybe Chance found it easier to trust than Maggie did. She would like to think so. It would be good if he could connect with a man, someone who could be a role model.

She wasn’t quite prepared to put Michael Carson into that position. Not yet. He needed to show them that he could be that person.

“Hey, look who came out to join us.” Chance waved his racquet. “I told him you were still here.”

Michael nodded. He didn’t smile. That had to be because of her earlier dismissal of his offer to help. She crossed the parking lot to where the two now stood, racquets held loosely at their sides. Michael held the ball, bouncing it lightly in his hand. His gaze came up, connected with hers, making her doubt that it had been a good idea to come out here.

Broad daylight and she didn’t feel safe. Not that she felt in danger. Not really.

Chance cleared his throat, his eyes narrowed. He shot a look at Michael and then back to her. A casual shrug and he handed the racquet he held to Michael.

“I need to go. I, uh, have homework.”

Maggie came out of her daze. “Don’t lie, Chance.”

“I should have homework,” he hedged.

“See you tomorrow.” Tomorrow was Sunday, and church. Chance hadn’t worked up to that, not yet. She didn’t pressure him, just casually asked from time to time.

“Maybe tomorrow.” He darted away, and she knew he wouldn’t be there.

Michael started to move away. Maggie couldn’t let him go, not yet. She had to apologize. He didn’t deserve to have her push him away. She could let him work with her without letting him into her life.

She really had to work on that trust issue. Or so Faith kept telling her. She had to trust herself to make the right choices, and trust the people in her life not to let her down.

“I have some cola in the fridge inside, or bottled water. Do you want one?”

He stopped, turning with eyes widened in surprise. He pointed to himself and smiled. “Are you talking to me?”

“I’m talking to you.”

He held up the racquets and the ball. “Do you play?”

“No, I don’t play.” Well, that came out totally wrong. She managed a tight smile. “Racquetball. I don’t play racquetball.”

“That’s what I thought we were talking about.” He laughed, the sound sort of carefree and delicious, better than coffee with cream.

And just the fact that she had that thought meant that Faith had been a very bad influence on her.

“It’s nice out here.” She nodded toward the picnic table under the shade of a huge oak tree. “We could sit in the shade.”

Not inside, confined in her office. She glanced toward the parking lot where her car was parked and so was his. People could drive by and get the wrong idea.

Michael nodded his understanding. “Not ready to face what people will think if it gets around that we were here together?”

Forget the delicious coffee-and-cream laugh. “That isn’t it at all. I don’t want to give people room to speculate.”

“Ah, speculation. Yeah, I know what you mean. People do like to assume the worst.”

The way his eyes shifted away from her, she thought that there was more to that comment, something he didn’t feel like sharing. Probably the same something that had brought him back here with a racquet.

Speculation. Now she was doing it. Maybe he liked racquetball and didn’t want to go to the club to play. “I’ll get the colas and meet you back here.”

When she walked out of the church carrying a couple cans of soda, he was sitting on top of the picnic table. His long legs, clad in shorts, were stretched out in front of him. She felt a moment of envy, seeing his tan, and guessing that it came easily for him.

He smiled, an easy smile that lifted one side of his mouth and flashed straight white teeth.

“I’m afraid we only have diet.” She handed him a can and he took it.

“It’ll work.”

Maggie stood in front of the bench, not really sure what her next move should be. Her indecision caught his attention and he patted the spot next to him. That left her in a predicament. Sit next to him, or look further jerky and emotionally unstable.

She sat next to him on top of the table. At least she could drink the soda and not concentrate on finding a topic of conversation they would both be comfortable with.

“I like it here in Galloway. It’s quiet and sometimes I forget that Springfield is just a traffic light away.” Michael ended the silence. “And I really like living outside of town.”

“I’ve always lived here.”

“Really? Do you have your own place or do you live with your parents?”

“I live with my grandmother.” And she didn’t want him to ask more than that. She knew he would. A quick glance in his direction and she saw the questions forming. “My mother passed away when I was in my early teens.”

“I see.” But the tone, soft and a little distant, said that he didn’t see. “And your dad?”

She never had an answer for that question. Her dad, not in the real sense of the word, didn’t exist. He didn’t exist, had never wanted to be a part of her life, but yet he did inhabit her mind a lot. She thought of him, wondered about him and sometimes resented him.

“Maggie?”

“Sorry, I got lost in thought. No, I don’t have a dad.” She hated the word illegitimate, so she wouldn’t use it. It made it sound like her life didn’t count. And her life did count.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk.” He leaned back, looking up at the tree that spread like a leafy green umbrella over top of them. “I wanted to talk about something other than myself.”

“That’s understandable. What happened?”

He sat up, his eyes making direct contact with hers. He hadn’t expected that question. She could see it in the widening of his eyes, that she’d taken him by surprise.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You left earlier, but now you’re back, and I think that racquetball game was more than an exercise routine. It looked a lot like a guy trying to clear his mind by pounding the tar out of a poor defenseless ball.”

He smiled and glanced sideways at her.

“I got pulled over.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “The cop did it to mess with me. He checked my car, made me take a sobriety test. And then he let me go with the casual warning that he’d be seeing me around.”

“Nice.” Maggie sat for a minute, sipping on the diet soda and trying to decide what else needed to be said.

“I never expected it to be easy.” Michael sighed. “But I didn’t expect it to be this difficult. I know that I have to prove myself, but I’m not sure if I can ever measure up to what everyone seems to be expecting.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been one of the people pushing you to measure up. That isn’t what I intended.”

“Really?” He hopped down from the table. “So what did you intend to do?”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know, Michael. I don’t think I planned on making you feel anything. If it makes you feel better, this is more about me than you.”

“Because you don’t want me here, in your life and in your ministry?”

“Not for the reasons you think.” She gave him that, knowing he needed some kind of explanation. The reasons were too varied to go into detail. She didn’t trust herself to be a good judge of character. She felt territorial and protective of her kids. And she didn’t want to be let down. Multiple choice, with no wrong answers.

“Are you going to share the reasons?”

“No, I’m not.” She stepped down from the table and stood a short distance from him. “I think it’s enough that you know that I’m really trying. And I want you to succeed.”

“That’s something, I guess.” He tossed his soda can into a nearby recycling bin. “See you tomorrow, Maggie.”

She watched him walk away wondering if she could have said more. Of course she could have, she just didn’t know what it would have been.

Chapter Four

Michael left church on Sunday afternoon without being caught by any well-meaning parishioners or Maggie. He needed to get away, to escape the prying eyes that watched with open curiosity. And after the way their conversation had ended yesterday, he didn’t want to talk to Maggie.

What he didn’t need was company. The car parked in his driveway came as a surprise and a letdown. He felt his insides tighten at the thought of company, another person wanting to see how he was doing.

The door of the convertible opened and a man stepped out. Michael pulled up next to the car, finding a smile for Jimmy Grey, a longtime friend, and someone he hadn’t seen in four long years. Jimmy had been one of the few friends who had written letters.

“About time you got home.” Jimmy flashed his big smile. His curly blond hair was cut short, keeping the curls in control to some degree.

“I was at church.”

“Oh, yes, the newly reformed Michael Carson. I like it.” Jimmy’s hand extended. “It looks good on you, man. I guess a little religion never hurt anyone.”

“It sure wouldn’t hurt you.” Michael moved back and leaned against the side of Jimmy’s convertible.

“No, it wouldn’t hurt. So, tell me, how are you and were you ever going to call me?”

Michael fished his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go inside. I’m starving, and I could use a cup of coffee.”

“You’re actually living here?” Jimmy nodded toward the sixty-foot-long, single-wide mobile home with its small front porch and metal siding.

“I like it. I might see if the church will sell it to me. I wouldn’t mind building a house out here someday.”

“Funny, ten years ago I wouldn’t have seen us here with me as the good one.”

Michael laughed, knowing that Jimmy didn’t mean anything by that. If anything, he agreed. Jimmy had always been the rebellious one. Michael, unfortunately, had been the one who’d made the wrong choice. No excuses. He’d messed up. He’d paid. He didn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

“I’m glad you came out, even if you weren’t invited.” Michael unlocked the front door and motioned Jimmy inside.

“Good grief, is that a rat?” Jimmy stepped to the side in time for Michael to see the mouse run under the couch.

“Just a mouse, but he’s pretty good company. He doesn’t eat much, he never talks and he doesn’t hog the bathroom.”

Jimmy glanced back, shaking his head. “You’re a strange dude. So, have you seen Katherine?”

It had to come up. “No, and I don’t plan on seeing her. That part of my life is in the past. We were never in love. We were just cohorts, hiding our drug use from our parents. I can’t let myself get pulled back into that codependency.”

“I guess that’s probably true. And she is seriously in trouble. She’s down to about a hundred pounds. Her parents are finally starting to get that she has a problem.”

“My mom still thinks she’s just thin, and I should give her a call.”

“I’m not sure if you should.”

Michael nodded as he pulled lunch meat and cheese out of the fridge. “Do you want mayo or mustard?”

“Neither. Do you have a tomato in there?”

“Do you think this is a restaurant?”

They were sitting on the back deck eating their sandwiches when Michael worked up the courage to do what he had been putting off. He could have said it in a letter. That didn’t seem right.

“Jimmy, I need to apologize to you.”

Jimmy dropped his feet from the railing to the floor of the deck and tossed the last corner of his bread into the yard. “Why do you think you need to apologize to me?”

“It’s time for me to make amends to the people I hurt. When we were roommates in college, I stole quite a bit of money from you. Dad had cut me off. I needed a fix, and I didn’t care who I had to hurt to get it.”

“Shoot, Michael, I knew you did that. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Yes, but I need to apologize, because I need to start forgiving myself. I probably owe you about five hundred dollars.”

“Forget it.”

“No.” Michael stood and leaned against the deck so that he could face his friend. “I have to do this. Tomorrow I’m going to get the cash and bring it to you.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, why don’t you put the money in the offering plate? I don’t need it and I don’t want it. Don’t soothe your conscience by doing something that I don’t want you to do. I’m not mad, and I’ll only be mad if you try to pay me back.”

“I have to do this.”

“You have to make amends? Yeah, okay, so make amends. Is that why you’re working at the church? Are you making amends to God, too?”

“No, that’s something else. I know that people are going to think that, but it isn’t about making amends. I really feel like this is something I’m supposed to do.”

Jimmy stood, patted Michael on the back and headed for the door. “I’m glad to hear that. I don’t want to think you’re brainwashed.”

“It’s church, Jim, not a cult.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you know church has never been my thing.”

“I know it hasn’t. But if it hadn’t been for God, I wouldn’t have survived the last four years. I probably wouldn’t have survived the four years before that, either.”

“Probably not.” Jimmy stopped in the center of the kitchen, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the “God” talk. “I need to go. Dad needs some help with things around the house.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Fine. The Alzheimer’s is in the early stages, so he’s still Dad. I know that will change in the next few years.”

“Jimmy, if you need anything, I’m here.”

He smiled. “You know, Mike, it’s good to hear that. I’ve missed you. Not just for the last four years, but before that. You were gone for a long time.”

Eight years of his life, gone. Four years to meth and four to prison. But it wasn’t just about the lost years. It was more about lost friendships, lost experiences and lost trust. He couldn’t get back what was lost, including those eight years, but he could definitely make the next eight years count.

Or he could mess up. Maybe being aware of that fact would help him to be stronger.

May fifteenth. Only two more weeks of school. Maggie relished the thought, knowing it meant no more homework for the kids or for her. Algebra was so not her thing. Which explained why she had escaped for a few minutes of fresh air while the kids played darts or went out back for a game of basketball.

She absently rubbed the soft ears of the black Labrador sitting next to her. The animal looked up with sad brown eyes. He belonged to one of the neighbors, but he liked the attention and the leftovers the kids gave him.

A flash of red pulled her attention away from the dog and to the intersection a block away. Michael Carson. She hadn’t expected him today. He had stopped by a couple of times a week, slowly introducing himself to the kids and getting to know the routine. He had been distant, sharing little of his new life with her. But on Sunday night the elders had given him permission to become a real part of the team.

Michael stepped out of the car and waved. His boyish grin flashed brightly on his tanned face. Maggie’s gaze traveled down, taking in the T-shirt that stretched across athletic shoulders and the faded jeans that looked worn and comfortable. She pulled on a cloak of detachment that would make it easier to deal with him. The dog pushed against her leg, snarling softly at the new arrival.

“Are you out here waiting for me?” He held his hand out to the dog, who sniffed and then licked, having decided the stranger could be a friend.

Stupid mutt. Who said dogs were a good judge of character?

“No, I wasn’t waiting, just getting fresh air. I hadn’t really expected you today.”

“Yes, well, I had to leave work early, so I thought I might as well swing by here.”

“Had to leave work early?” She grimaced as the question came out. “Sorry, none of my business.”

The lines of his mouth tightened into what wasn’t exactly the carefree smile she had noticed when he’d first stepped out of the car. He sat next to her on the steps. The dog switched sides and nudged into his arm.

“You know, my life is a continuous learning experience, with a lot of lovely surprises thrown in along the way.”

“Really.”

He stroked the dog’s head and in turn the animal licked his hand. “You don’t really want to hear this, do you?”

“I do, but I don’t know how much you want to share.”

“Thanks, because this isn’t something that my parents want to hear. They would like to think that everything is perfect.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I got called in for a random drug test by my probation officer.” He looked up, his eyes connecting with hers, seeking something. Understanding maybe? Or compassion? She breathed in, not sure which response to give.

“Is that standard?”

“Or do they suspect me of something?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, it isn’t your fault. Yes, it is standard. Somehow I pushed it to the back of my mind. But today it happened.”

“How did it go?” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to ask the right question or give the correct response for this.”

“Join the crowd. This isn’t exactly something I planned for my life. And I doubt that you thought you’d be thrown into the role of supporting someone who is going through this.”

“So, we’ll get through it together.” The words slipped out and once again she knew she’d said the wrong thing. But this time for a different reason. She couldn’t be the one getting him through this. She had already tried that. She had been the supporting one, trying to help her mother.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to that. But I appreciate you listening to me.” He stood and reached for her hand to pull her to her feet. “And in case you’re wondering and you’re too polite to ask—I’m clean.”

“I know that.”

“So, let’s go tell the kids the truth about my life.”

She stood and turned to walk up the stairs. On the last step she stopped and waited for him to join her. He hadn’t moved. “Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready.”

The shuttered look that fell over his expression closed her out. That was fine. She didn’t mind being closed out. It meant she didn’t have to get involved. Of course, it felt as though she was already pretty involved.

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. Just a moment of doubt.”

“We all have those.”

“You’re right.” He took the steps two at a time and passed her. When he reached the door he opened it, motioning for her to enter first. “After you.”

End of conversation, just like that. Maggie let it go. She had a group of kids waiting for her. They were her ministry—not Michael.

The kids were behind the church playing basketball. Michael followed Maggie out the back door. As they stepped outside, she turned, offering him a smile that she probably meant to be encouraging. He didn’t feel encouraged. He had dropped by to visit the kids from time to time; he and Chance had connected, but this time it felt different. This was a step forward. This meant really immersing himself in this ministry.

It also meant that he now had to be up front with the kids. They needed to know the truth, the whole truth, before they heard rumors and invented their own stories about his life.

“Hey, guys, let’s all sit down on the picnic tables.” Maggie’s voice grabbed the attention of the kids. The ball dropped to the court, to be picked up by Chance. The huddle of kids climbed on the tables, watching expectantly.

They were looking at him.

Maggie reached behind her, grabbing his hand to pull him forward. “Michael Carson is going to start joining us on a regular basis next week. He’ll be here at least three afternoons a week, and he’ll help us on different weekend activities.”

The enormity of his commitment hit home. Doubts whirled around inside him, calling him a fraud and making him question if he had the ability. What if he let them all down?

“Hi, guys.” He stepped forward. Maggie’s hand dropped from his arm. He hadn’t realized until it was no longer there how much that touch had meant to him. “I guess I’ve met most of you, so today isn’t as much about introductions as it is about getting real.”