Trusting Him (17 page)

Somewhere he had heard that gifts were more special if they were made by hand, not store-bought.

Pastor Banks parked his car and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He glanced from the pile of roofing materials, to Michael. A broad grin spread across his face.

"Are you moonlighting as a roofer?"

"Something like that."

Pastor Banks grabbed the magazine and an extra hammer before reaching for the ladder. He shifted the heavy aluminum contraption and then jiggled it before putting his foot on the first rung. Michael could have told him that climbing the ladder took a lot of faith.

"I know you can probably do this on your own," he started with that statement as he sat, "but I've been meaning to get something done about this roof for several months. The two of us should be able to get it patched up, and then later maybe some of the men from the church can finish the job. If you don't mind the help, of course? And maybe you could stop calling me 'Pastor' and call me 'Robert'?"

Michael sat back on the slope of the roof and laughed. Raising his shirt, he wiped the sweat from his brow and then shook his head.

"I think Betty would prefer for me to have help," he admitted. "She looked a little worried when she left. And I think I can manage to call you Robert, at least while we're facing death together."

"I can't think why Betty would be worried." Robert Banks chuckled as he started to work.

"If she was praying when she left, it was probably for the safety of her house."

"She's definitely a praying woman," Pastor Banks agreed.

Michael watched the other man's actions and began to mimic his movements. Pastor Banks had definitely done this job before. As the two of them worked, they discussed the church and then Michael's job. The topic of conversation switched to Maggie, a topic Michael had wanted to avoid.

"Maggie is a special young woman," Pastor Banks started. "I've watched her grow up, and she's done remarkably well, all things considering."

"To be honest, I don't know that much about her life." Michael turned to face the other man. "But I admire what I do know about her."

"Michael, I have to ask. Is there something going on between you and Maggie?"

Michael sat back on his heels. "Why would you think that?"

"People talk, Michael. The church is abuzz with gossip. Nice how they forget that gossip is one of the top ten— 'Thou shalt not bear false witness.'" Pastor Banks sort of laughed. "I think they think that gossip is a gray area, not really a sin, and great entertainment."

"Yeah, well, I definitely don't need for people to gossip about my life. I've given them enough real information to work with."

"So, about Maggie?"

"We're not involved. I think of her as a friend. But as for involvements of the romantic kind, I don't have that in mind. I have a lot to learn about life and about myself before I can undertake relationships."

"That's understandable. And don't worry, Michael, I think you have more of a grasp on life, and yourself, than you think."

"Sometimes I think that, too. Sometimes I doubt it. Depends on the day and the circumstances."

"Would it help you if you knew that we all doubted ourselves?"

Michael grabbed a few nails from the pouch around his waist and picked the hammer back up. "Yeah, that helps."

"The work won't get done on its own," Pastor Banks reminded.

"What about Maggie's dad?" Michael pounded nails into the shingles he had placed on the roof.

"You'll have to wait for her to tell you what she wants you to know."

"I don't know if that day will ever come. I'm not high on her list of people to trust."

"Don't push her. She'll open up in time."

Michael lifted his shirt again, wiping the perspiration from his forehead and neck. "I can't pay for the mistakes other people in her life have made."

"True, very true. Be her friend and let her make the decision to let you into her life." Pastor Banks reached for more shingles and went back to work.

"I'm not like her father."

Robert sat back on his heels. "She told you?"

"I overheard."

"I see." He placed a section of shingles on the roof. "Jacob Simmons isn't her favorite topic."

"I'm sure he's not."

Michael let the conversation drop. The sun turned up the heat and the roof grew warmer. Pastor Banks pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his face.

"Phew, it is hot up here. What do you think— let's finish this last bad spot and get down before we both suffer from heatstroke?"

"Sounds good to me."

Michael sighed with relief when he stepped down off the ladder. It took a minute for his legs to adjust to terra firma. Pastor Banks took the final step and joined him.

Michael pulled two bottles of water out of his cooler. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Pastor Banks took the bottle Michael offered him. He unscrewed the lid and downed half the contents in one gulp. "Let's sit down."

Michael nodded and dropped to the ground under the shade of a pretty ancient walnut tree. He finished his water and screwed the cap back on. Pastor Banks was staring at the empty bottle in his hands.

"I'm going to give you some advice, Michael."

Michael looked up, ready for any kind of advice he might hear.

"About relationships."

"Something I haven't had a lot of opportunity for." Michael laughed. "And something I'm not sure I'm ready for."

"You'll be ready. Probably sooner than you think. And when it happens, remember this, relationships are hard work. Building the relationship is work. Maintaining it is work. Keeping it fresh, also work."

Michael laughed. "That's the advice? I thought you were going to tell me something magical that would make it work. You've blown me away. I thought when love happened it would be her feeling it, me feeling it and,
tah-dah!
Love."

"Boy, are you naive." Pastor Banks stood. "I should get home. I have a relationship of my own that is feeling neglected and would like to go out to dinner tonight."

"I couldn't have done this without you."

"No, but I admire that you would have tried."

Michael hoped that the other project he had undertaken would be as well received as the roofing job. Maggie needed healing, bridges built that would connect her to people who would shelter and care about her. It wasn't his place to build those bridges, but he had taken the steps anyway.

If something should happen to him…He briefly closed his eyes, pushing away thoughts that couldn't bring him peace.

"Y
ou let him fix the roof?" Maggie blinked a few times, thinking her grandmother had obviously lost her mind. She dropped the bags she'd carried in from her shopping trip and turned to give Faith a look that would stop the giggles.

"He looked so earnest about it, dear. He wanted to do something good, and I let him."

"He's taking over my life."

"Taking over your life?" Faith laughed. "For someone who is normally pretty serious, that's a little on the dramatic side. Unless, of course, there's more to this than you're telling us?"

Faith smiled at Maggie's grandmother and added a conspiratorial wink. Maggie walked down the hall to the kitchen. The sinkful of dirty dishes looked like a good distraction and a way to work off her anger or whatever the emotion was that tumbled around inside her.

"I've been saving money to get that roof fixed." Maggie turned on the hot water to wash dishes. She squeezed a good squirt of lavender-scented liquid into the water and inhaled when the aroma drifted up. She had always thought that lavender was supposed to be soothing. Obviously not.

"Well, now you can thank God for answered prayers and use the money for new carpet." Faith set the plates into the sink and grabbed a dishrag. "And thank God for sending Michael Carson."

"Yes, of course." Maggie scooted Faith out of the way and grabbed the rag from her hand. "Go play the piano for us."

"You're using me. Play the piano yourself."

"Gran gets sick of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb.'" She shot a smile at her grandmother. "Right?"

"And 'Twinkle Twinkle.'" Grandma joined Maggie at the sink. "Go play for us, Faith. We've missed hearing you."

"Yes, I'm such an amazing talent," Faith commented as she walked out of the room.

Maggie ignored that comment. Faith had a gift, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Someday…someday she would not only recognize it, but hopefully use it.

Faith yelled from the living room, accompanied by the sound of her fingers running over the piano keys. "I'm going to play, but you're going to stop fighting with Michael. Give the guy a chance. He needs to prove himself, so let him."

"I'm trying." Maggie smiled at her grandmother who was watching her. "But the two of you have to remember that this is about helping him as he gets involved in ministry, not about giving him carte blanche to my life."

For some reason that seemed impossible. Michael had already invaded, taking up space not allotted for his presence. He had invaded her dreams.

The telephone on her desk was ringing when Maggie walked into her office on Wednesday morning, a cup of coffee in one hand, a box of cookies in the other. She set the cookies down and reached for the telephone. Michael walked in behind her, carrying two paper bags.

"Hello?" She answered the phone and watched as Michael pulled bagels, cream cheese and a plastic knife out of the bag. He reached into the other bag and produced single-serving containers of orange juice.

Maggie pointed to her coffee and cookies. As she listened to the caller trying to sell her siding for her house, Michael reached for her cookies. She watched as he left the room with her breakfast, leaving behind food that looked terribly healthy…and almost appetizing.

She put the phone down and reached for a bagel. The telephone rang again, startling her. Michael had entered the room and had started spreading cream cheese on the bagels. She picked up the phone, smiling a thank-you to him as she lifted it to her ear.

"Maggie Simmons." She smiled at Michael and lifted her bagel as she mouthed the words "thank you."

"Maggie." A long pause followed. She took a bite of her bagel and waited. "Maggie, my name is Jacob Simmons. I'm your father."

The room tilted and started to spin. Michael's face loomed above hers. She set the bagel down, but she couldn't form words to respond to her caller. Tears that she didn't want to shed welled up behind her eyelids and her throat tightened with emotion.

Jacob Simmons? Just like that, he barged into her life, claiming the title of "father." That word should mean something. Pastor Banks was a dad. She had seen him with his children. She knew what the word meant. Pastor Banks had been more of a parent to her than the man on the other end of the phone.

"Maggie?" His voice should have sounded familiar, but it didn't. She'd never spoken to him, not once in her life.

"Yes, I'm here."

"I know this must be a shock."

Of course, a shock, that's what it was. She was glad he told her how to feel because at the moment she didn't know what name to put on the wrenching pain that twisted inside her.

"Yes, it's a shock." She drew in a deep breath.

"I know this call is a surprise to you, but I'd like to see you," he continued, sounding nearly as personal as the man who had tried to sell her siding not five minutes earlier. She had siding on her home. She didn't need a father, not now. She'd passed the years when she'd needed someone to hold her, to tell her that nightmares weren't real.

"You want to see me? So, you're scheduling an appointment."

"Maggie, this isn't easy."

"No, it isn't easy, is it?" She looked away from Michael's concerned gaze. "It isn't at all what I expected. I always thought that if you called it would be a great moment in my life. It isn't."

"If I could just have a chance to talk to you."

"You've had twenty-six years of chances."

"I know that I've let you down. I know that I hurt you. But I do want to see you."

"Just like that, you want to see me? What happened to the promise you made to my mother, that you would take care of me if something happened to her? Something did happen, she died. And you weren't there."

"I know."

Of course he knew. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and waited for her vision to clear. Michael was sitting on the corner of her desk. She met his clear, compassionate gaze.

"I'm not sure if I want to see you."

"I understand that. But I think we do need to see each other. I've made a lot of mistakes. The biggest was not being a part of your life."

The words sounded so right. It was what she'd always prayed for, what she'd always wanted to hear. But why now?

"Why now?" Only he had the answer to that question.

"I received a phone call from someone who was tracking me down for you."

"I see." Her gaze came up, locking with Michael's, and she knew immediately who had tracked her father down. Her heart didn't know how to respond to that knowledge. "I never contacted you because I didn't want to force you to be a part of my life. I thought your absence said it all."

"I should have been a part of your life."

"I can't talk right now." She scooted her chair away from the desk and walked to the window. "Maybe soon. Let me have time to think about this."

"Can I see you in a few weeks? I'll be in Missouri on business."

She tried to think of a reason she couldn't see him. Several excuses came to mind, but those would have been lies. And she would have been denying God's answer to her prayers. She couldn't say it was too late, but she wanted to.

"Maggie, I'm sorry." He repeated the words he had already told her.

"I believe you." She closed her eyes and rolled her neck, trying to relieve the tension. "I need time to think."

She hung up and when she turned, Michael was still at her desk. He didn't turn away. He didn't even have the sense to look guilty.

"
You
did this." She sat again, touching the bagel, not picking it up. Tears burned her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. She didn't need tears, not today, not over Jacob Simmons.