Trusting Him (20 page)

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 her 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."

She shook her head. "No, stay here with me. Don't leave me."

"I won't leave you." His voice was gruff. "Maggie, you have to stop staying here at night by yourself. I know you think you're able to handle anything, but this proves that there are some things you can't."

"I couldn't find my mace. I would have used it."

"You didn't have it, and if I hadn't shown up, what would have happened?"

"Don't, please, not right now. Tomorrow you can tell me how stupid I am."

He sighed and then his hand brushed her cheek. "You aren't stupid. I'm just worried. What if I hadn't come back?"

"Why are you here?"

He laughed. "I came back to argue with you some more, to tell you how trustworthy I am."

Trustworthy. She closed her eyes as a chill swept down her back. Yes, he was someone worth trusting.

When she took a step toward him, Michael almost backed away, almost kept the moment from happening. He wanted to be someone she could trust. Hadn't he joked about that only moments earlier? And here she was, trusting him, and he didn't know if he could be that person for her.

What would happen in the next couple of weeks, when it appeared to all that he was falling apart? It was a role he had to play, and one he trusted himself to play. But would Maggie continue to trust? Or would his obvious slipping away shatter whatever had been building between them?

"Michael, where are you?" Maggie's voice, soft and near his ear.

He looked down, smiling at the woman who stood on tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his. "I'm here."

"No, you weren't."

With effort he brushed away the doubts that clouded his mind. Instead of thinking, he pulled her close, his lips touching hers as her hands rested on his arms.

"Sweet, Maggie, you're so sweet." He murmured the words against her cheek and heard her sigh as he pulled away.

Blue lights flashed, reflecting against the building and breaking into the dark night. The silence that had surrounded them was broken with a short blast from a siren as the two patrol cars came to a stop in front of the building.

Maggie pulled her hand away from his. Before the police officer reached them, she turned, her gaze connecting with his for just a brief moment.

"I really do trust you," she whispered.

"I know."

And for some reason knowing that she trusted him didn't make him feel better.

The law office was having an unusually quiet day. Michael's dad and his partner were both in court. One of the secretaries had taken a vacation day. Michael dropped the phone in its cradle and leaned back in his chair. He linked his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes. The case on his desk could wait, just for a minute, while he relaxed. Instead of relaxing, his thoughts turned to Maggie, as they often did these days.

He didn't want to think about what could have happened to her the other night. He didn't want to think about how she would feel if she learned about what he was doing.

The door to his office opened a crack, taking his mind off the paper and Maggie. He looked up as Jimmy Grey stuck his head around the door and grinned.

"Busy?" Jimmy didn't wait for an answer but stepped into the office, still smiling.

"I guess I'm not." Michael nodded to the chair across from him, knowing Jimmy wouldn't sit. He never sat, he rarely even stood still.

"You've been pretty scarce lately." Jimmy paced to the window and then turned to pace back to the desk. "I called the other day, to see if you wanted to play tennis. You were gone again."

"I don't have a lot of spare time these days."

Jimmy laughed and shook his head of blond curls. "Okay, sure, caseload and church." He actually sat, propping his feet up on Michael's desk. "And a certain youth worker has nothing to do with your busy schedule?"

How did he answer that? Michael tapped his pen on the desk and shrugged, trying to make it look as though Maggie had nothing to do with anything going on in his life. "She's at the church and I'm there."

"Okay, I'll buy that."

"So why don't you tell me why you're here?" Because Michael was sure there had to be more to this visit than a friendly chat about relationships.

"Someone saw you the other night." Jimmy's ever-present smile faded into a frown.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"They saw you at a certain house, with a certain crowd."

Of course that would happen. Springfield wasn't a small town, but sometimes it felt that way. Everyone knew everyone else, especially when there could be good gossip involved. Michael had expected as much, and even planned for it. He hadn't planned the way he would feel when one of his best friends looked at him with obvious disappointment.

"It isn't what you think."

"I was hoping you could explain." Jimmy leaned forward, all seriousness, his normally jovial self nowhere in sight.

Michael leaned back in his chair. He looked out the window, avoiding eye contact with Jimmy. The thump on his desk rattled his coffee cup and his nerves.

"Michael, what in the…world is going on? You come back telling me that God has made a change in your life. You actually had me thinking that maybe I needed some religion or something, and now you're back there, hanging out with those people."

Religion. Michael smiled and shook his head. "It isn't religion, Jimmy, it's a relationship with God. It definitely doesn't make me a perfect person. And I can't tell you what is going on."

Jimmy stood, his features unreadable. "I figured as much."

"It isn't what you think."

At the door, Jimmy stopped. He didn't look back, but his shoulders lifted on a sigh. "I hope it isn't."

And then he was gone. Another person whose trust in Michael had been shaken.

The door closed and Michael attempted to turn his attention back to the file in front of him. His mind didn't immediately focus on the accident case. When the phone rang, he reached for it absently. Vince's voice on the other end no longer sent a chill of dread down his spine, instead it sickened him. He took a deep breath and pretended to be glad the other man had called.

"Vince, you got my message."

"I must have, I'm calling." Vince didn't sound as positive as Michael would have liked. "So, what do you want, Preacher Boy? If you think I'm going to tell you where Katherine is, you're dead, and I mean dead, wrong."

"You can keep Katherine. I think you know what I want." Michael stood and walked to the window. The view of the city was outstanding, buildings, trees and parks. Lavender-gray clouds loomed on the horizon and the wind shifted, turning the leaves of the trees. A storm was coming.

"Okay, Mike, you want some stuff." Vince paused. "I think I'll make you earn it. I don't like the idea of you spending your hard-earned money."

"Fine, whatever, just get me something."

Vince laughed. "Don't get yourself all upset. Just be ready when I call."

Michael put the phone down and leaned back in his chair. Step one taken care of. There could be no turning back. Step two would take him further into this. Step three would bring Vince to justice and hopefully reveal Katherine's location.