A Bleu Streak Summer (The Bleu Series Book 3) (14 page)

“’You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden,’” Dillon whispered one of his favorite verses to his friend, Matthew 5:14. “You’ve got that sun inside you. It’s up to you to let it out.”

“I’ve forgotten how.”

“I don’t know why you let your old man screw with your head so bad when he showed back up last year.”

“He didn’t mess with my head. He ruined my heart.” Max pressed his hand against the pain swelling in his chest. He sucked in several shaky breaths before he could continue. “I think it’s time to go home… I need to go home…” A sob stuttered from his damp lips, but he managed to hold the tears back.

“I understand. I’ll have Blake get you on the first flight out. Go pack.” Dillon nodded his head toward the stairs.

Max didn’t make a move. “I’m quitting y’all.”

“You’re not quitting. You know it’s time for you to move on from this and staying in California ain’t cutting it. You’re wellbeing is far more important than a few gigs. It’s only a week and we’ll be back home, too.” Dillon pulled his phone out and hit Blake’s contact. “Yo. Book Max a ticket home on the next available flight,” he spoke into the phone and paused to listen. “Thanks, man.”

Max pushed away from the island and walked to the stairs. Dillon was right. It was time to sort things out. Dillon called out before he descended the stairs.

“’For just as we share abundantly in the suffering of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.’ Don’t forget to lean on Him. You’re not alone in this, Max.”

Max tossed his hand up in acknowledgement, knowing his voice wouldn’t be able to penetrate past the pain flooding him.

It was definitely time to go home.

TWELVE

“Broken”

-Lifehouse

“Tiny Town”

-Finding Favour

The red eye from LAX to Atlanta was swathed in an eerie calm after such an uproar in the airport earlier when Max was checking in just before midnight. The place had become a frenzy of fans wanting to know how Max was doing. Also, an elderly lady took it upon herself to scold him for his inappropriate prank, telling him he was raised better than that. It was a blessing and burden to be Maxim King. He had always opened himself to the fans, wanting to be personal with them. This made them all view him as a member of their own family. But their curiosity and concern was too much for him to handle, so Max upgraded his usual coach ticket to first class so he could hide.

Hiding became overbearing as the quiet cabin whispered all of the chaos of his life in a spinning cycle of confusing questions.

How?

Why?

How did this mess happen?

Why did I allow it?

How can I clean it up?

Why can’t I figure it out?

A fine sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, beckoned forth by the pounding of each regret to his gut. His breath caught from the stabbing in his chest each time he tried to inhale. Swiping the perspiration from his upper lip, his fingers discovered the tremble of grief.

I’m falling apart…

Drowning…

Sinking…

A choked sob fell from his mouth without warning. His head jerked up, scanning around the dimly lit cabin to see if anyone caught it before it clattered to the floor. Most of the leather seats were reclined at the late hour. Thankfully, Max found no eyes witnessing his meltdown, so he kicked the offensive display of emotion under his seat and focused on keeping the sobs mute as tears fell in a mournful procession.

The realization hit him that he had not properly mourned the loss of innocence inflicted from the abandonment of his father. The fissure he’d been carelessly bandaging with whatever worked at the time finally rebelled and split wide open.

Unable to swallow it back down, Max’s knees hit the floor of the plane before he could register his actions.

“Oh… God… Please… Please take this from me… I can’t carry it anymore… It’s ruining me. Ruining my life. Please… I need to forgive him… Help me forgive him… Heal me… Please heal me…”

His whispered prayers kept on a repetitious procession until they switched to Max begging God to heal Martin, to forgive Martin, to take Martin’s burden of addiction away.

“Please… Please forgive and heal my dad of his sins…”

The hollow ache drained away, leaving a numbing sensation after a while. Exhausted and cried out, Max climbed back into his seat as sleep pulled him under. Dreams flickered like old home videos, conjuring images of a happier time when growing up in a tiny town with dirt roads was more than enough.

•♫•♫•♫
•

“Eight is a good age as any.”

“Really?” Max asked hesitantly, unsure of his dad’s suggestion. He kicked a rock into the ditch as they walked down the dirt road that ran behind their small trailer. The humid summer had their chestnut locks curling tight and cheeks a bit flushed.

“Sure. Nothing wrong with a little mischief for a good laugh. Go ahead.”

“You ain’t gonna let Momma take a switch to me, are ya?” Max chewed on his thumbnail and looked up at the tree his dad pointed at.

“No,” Martin said on a deep laugh. “It’ll teach your brother a good lesson.”

Maverick thought it was okay to take Max’s fishing pole without permission, and thought it was even more okay that he broke it.
It was an accident!
He and Max had went around and around with the argument the day before, but nothing was resolved.

Max had whined to his dad about it until Martin suggested the little lesson.

“You gonna do it or not?” Mischief twinkled in Martin’s hazel eyes.

The twins’ grandpa had given both boys a new fishing pole and a tackle box filled with lures and hooks for passing the second grade their
second
time through. The sun caught on the line filled with all of the goodies from Mave’s tackle box that Max had attached, making it cast sparkles against the dark dirt. It looked like a redneck Christmas garland.

Taking a deep breath, Max held tight to one end of the fishing garland as he scurried up the tree. It took him no time to have all of Mave’s fishing supplies strung from the branches. He hopped down and followed his dad on to the corner store where they shared a bottle of icy cold cola and a good laugh over Max’s first ever prank. A prank instigated by his very own father.

THIRTEEN

“If We’re Honest”

-Francesca Battistelli

“Someday Never Comes”

-Creedence Clearwater Revival

Cleaner air, the humidity of summer, dust in the breeze, the languid rush of lake water…

Home. He was finally home.

The summer had felt closer to a decade than just mere months. The weight of the last year was left somewhere over the middle of the U.S., so Max nearly floated into his lake house that was made up of three older cabins gathered together. Hudson, the trailer park manager, wanted to tear them down and build more energy sufficient ones, but Max talked him into moving them deeper in the wooded shore. The guitarist had a contractor transform them into his own little lakeside retreat. The first cabin was expanded and made up the main living quarters. The second one became a guest house and the third a guitar sanctuary.

Max shuffled into the main cabin and straight to bed to catch up on some sleep. It wasn’t until he had slept the entire day away and spent a long time in the shower to wash it away that he noticed a few things around the house.

He wrapped a towel around his lean waist and went on a search for some sustenance to hush his growling stomach in the kitchen. Running his hand through his damp hair, Max bent to sniff the unexpected tray of peanut butter cookies on the counter. A note sat beside it to let him know Izzy had her mom send them over from her bakery. He picked one up and gave it a tentative lick. When it didn’t set fire to his tongue, Max deemed the treat safe for consumption and inhaled a half dozen without pause. After finding a quart of milk waiting in the fridge and guzzling it, his eyes caught something else peculiar out of the back window that overlooked the other two cabins. A light shined from the guest house.

Groaning, Max pulled on a pair of sweatpants and grabbed a bat to go welcome his unwelcomed guest. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d found someone there. Normally it was some kid from the trailer park needing a break from their parents.

He hurried down the short stone path and cautiously eased the unlocked door open. “Hey. No worries if you ain’t robbing me. Just come on out,” Max said in an even tone, not wanting to spook the perpetrator.

The figure who padded around the corner caused him to drop the bat and gasp.

“You’re the last person I’d expect to find here.”

“Dillon called me… You’ve grown a beard?” Mona asked, standing barefooted in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized tee that fell off her shoulder. Her mahogany mane was piled high in a messy bun, and no makeup marred her features.

Max thought she looked so perfect it made him hurt.

He brushed the tips of his fingers along his scruffy cheek. “Going for the hipster look.”

“You wear it well.” Mona cleared her throat, looking nervous all of a sudden. “Max—”

“I’ve missed you.” He took a few steps closer, burning to hold her again.

“Then why’d you let me go?” Her voice was barely a whisper as her aqua eyes swam in tears.

“I was scared.” His hands reached out and drew her against his chest.

“Of what?” She didn’t protest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“That you’d leave me first.” A throaty chuckle escaped him with no evident humor. “Pretty lame, I know.”

“All you had to do was talk to me about it. I get it, Max. What you went through with your father…”

Placing his fingers under her delicate chin, Max drew her attention up to meet his eyes. “Is it too late to talk about it now?” his hoarse voice pleaded.

“I’m here.”

“What about your new guy?”

Her cheeks warmed to a lovely pink as she smiled wryly. “Just a client. I may have played that up a bit for the cameras.”

“Always looking out for me, huh?” Max shook his head and placed an affection kiss to her forehead. He meant for it to be brief, but once his lips connected to her skin, he couldn’t pull away.

They stood in each other’s arms with his lips pressed to her forehead in a spell of regret and relief. Without thought, Max began leading them in a slow dance around the small cabin, just appreciating the moment he never imagined he’d have again. His lungs finally loosened and allowed deep breaths scented with her ever-present coconut to soothe him.

“Why didn’t you just go to Vegas when I begged,” he mumbled.

Mona lifted her head from his shoulder. “Because I didn’t want you rushing into something you’d regret. I wanted to give you time to be sure.”

“Baby, the only thing I regret is screwing things up with you.”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“I don’t deserve—”

“None of us deserves anything, but we all should appreciate and accept the gifts God has offered us.” She traced his shoulder with her index finger before dropping her head back there.

“Let’s go to Vegas now,” he nearly begged.

Her giggle tickled along his bare skin. “No. You’ve had enough publicity lately.”

“Seriously, Mona, I need to marry you.” His gruff voice had her lifting her head once again.

“Hopefully, some day.”

He realized she wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted nor deserved, so Max dropped it and indulged in just being with her again. He dipped his head toward her and stopped only a breath away from her parted lips to wait for permission. He wasn’t stupid. Sure, he didn’t grab up his gift like his brother, but he understood how precious Mona truly was to him.

When her lips finally lined with his, Max groaned in pure relief and pulled her closer. Unrushed and gentle. Affectionate and devastatingly sweet. He kissed her until his lips felt raw, demanding the physical demonstration to give Mona what his words were incapable of, his profound apology for abandoning her and the promise to never do it again.

When she tried to extract herself from his arms he refused, worrying the fragile moment would shatter, leaving him abandoned again.
No!
He also refused his thoughts to go there.

“Mine,” he whispered along her lips before kissing a path to the delicate skin of her neck.

Mona giggled again and pushed against his chest. “I think we need to calm down.”

Foreheads resting against each other, both quietly caught their breath while keeping a close eye on the other. Max kept tamping down the relentless fear of her disappearing.

“I’m still hot. Come on,” Mona declared as she pulled them in the direction of the back door.

He groaned again, but allowed her to lead him outside. Hand in hand, they ran down to the dock and jumped right off the end into the cool water. It had the effect needed, dousing the overwhelming need he had for her. Allowing the water to rinse away the dirt of the past few months, Max indulged in what a summer night on Shimmer Lakes could only provide. It gave him a safe haven to just be for a spell with no expectations, no facades to keep erect, and no fear of what’s to come.

Time drifted on the soft flow of the water, until they eventually tired of swimming. A few hours followed with a long conversation about all of the events of the bizarre and tiresome summer while their clothes dried from the night’s comforting warm breeze. As the sun began to peek around the edge of day, Max and Mona stretched out on the dock while Max strummed a guitar.

Home.

With his woman back in his arms and a guitar resting in her lap, Max felt it all the way to his bones. He was home.

Nothing could ruin the moment. Or that’s what he thought until a car door slammed,
ruining
the perfect moment.

Max stopped strumming the guitar and looked back toward the cabin, unable to see who had arrived. “Who done and found me already?” he grouched out as they both stood to go find out. He grabbed Mona’s hand and began trekking up the path.

“Dillon may have called someone besides me.”

Max glanced over and found Mona looking rather sheepish. “What? Who?”

“Max, you need to give your father a chance,” she whispered as Martin shuffled around the side of the cabin.

Then it dawned on him, sending a punch to his gut. Mona was just helping him out once again. “No wonder you won’t say yes,” he muttered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear him from her current angle.

“What was that?” she asked, but he just shook his head.

“Good morning,” Martin said, his voice weak and unsure.

In only wrinkled damp sweatpants, Max felt too vulnerable to have the needed conversation with his estranged father. “Come on in. I just need to change.” He dropped Mona’s hand and hurried inside without looking back.

Once he shrugged on one of his favorite V-neck tees and pair of jeans, he wandered out to the living room and only found Martin sitting in an oversized armchair. His father looked frail compared to the massive chair. Max’s breath hitched when he realized it wasn’t the chair’s fault at all. Within mere weeks, Martin had lost more weight and his skin more jaundice than before.

Max hesitantly sat across from him and watched on as Martin stopped chewing his thumbnail, a habit they both shared he realized.

“I’ve been going to church with your momma,” Martin confessed. “The preacher has been talking a lot about forgiveness lately… I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I sure would love to have it anyway. I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Everything.”

Max shook his head and snorted. “Aren’t we all?” They sat in silence until Max worked up enough nerve to ask the question that had haunted him most of his life. “Why weren’t we worth staying for?”

A hiccup of remorse fell from Martin’s thin lips. “Awe, son… I was no good for y’all.”

Anger zipped through Max in a white-hot flash. “Don’t give me that crap. Mave could have used the same lame excuse. Instead, he manned up to his addiction and got better.”

“He had a support system—”

Max threw his palms up. “Again, a lame excuse. You had Momma and us boys.”

“It wasn’t fair to expect Judith to put up with me while trying to raise you two. Y’all were all I had and it was unfair to you. I did what I thought was best.” It sounded as though it exhausted him to confess as much, his voice tapering off as his breathing became more labored.

“To abandon us… You thought
abandoning
us was for the best?”

“I’m not saying it was the right decision. It was the worst one of my life. I left thinking I’d get straightened out and come home. Only, things got worse…” He cleared his throat. “But I’m here now to say I’m sorry. I need your forgiveness. And I need you to get over it before it screws your life up, too.”

“
Before
it does?” Max laughed bitterly, the rancid taste of his reality was appalling. “It already has!”

“Only if you allow it.”

The conversation he had with Dillon mingled with the long prayer he shared with God on the plane, knowing Martin was right. Another long stretch of silence said more than they had managed to say with words. Both were hurt and both dwelling on the consequences. Beating themselves up until their lives were ragged from the abuse.

Max regarded the man before him until the anger transgressed to pity. Martin had lost, not him. He got what Martin couldn’t grasp with the unconditional love of his mother and brother. And that love only came from God. Martin may have allowed his demons to run him off, but God had delivered a bevy of family in many shades and backgrounds. His Bleu family was a gift not many ever witness in this selfish world, but Max had. For that he was thankful as well as ashamed that he’d not shown Martin that love God placed in his heart many years ago.

Dillon was right. The light was in him all along, but it was Max who stubbornly refused it to shine. It was time to let the clouds of the past to go. It was time to show Martin what true sunshine felt like.

“This,” Max began, motioning between them, “ain’t gonna fix in one conversation. I wish it were that easy.”

Martin’s eyes quivered with unshed tears as he slowly rose from the chair.

“But how about you come back tomorrow and we can work on it some more while we’re fishing.”

Martin looked back, surprised. “Yeah?”

Max nodded, acknowledging the fact that seeing his dad happy had pleased him so much.
Sunshine feels good. Let it out and warm your father.
“Yeah.”

“I’ll… I’ll be here. Just say the time,” Martin stuttered out, barely holding back his excitement.

It was so close to a childlike reaction that it struck Max deeply. Maybe his dad had missed out on more than anyone would ever realize due to his addiction demons. His frail body was testament to the fact he had paid dearly for it.

“It ain’t true fishing if it doesn’t happen before dawn,” Max repeated the exact declaration Martin had shared with him and Mave long ago.

A weak laugh that turned into a sob sounded from Martin as he sluggishly lunged in to hug Max without permission. “I have no right to be back in your life. Thank you, son. I’m so proud that you’ve grown into the man I could never be. You’re a good man.” He released his stunned son and limped out the front door.