Trusting Him (7 page)

"I should probably warn you that I've never been bowling." He slowed to make the turn into the parking lot of the bowling alley.

"You've never bowled?" Now he tells her.

"Don't act so surprised, millions of people haven't. It wasn't on my mother's list of lessons we took." He shot her a grin and winked. "But I can speak two languages and waltz…if that would help."

"Probably not. Don't worry, we can teach you to bowl."

"That's what I was afraid of." He continued to smile as he pulled into a parking place. "Is there any way that I could claim a wrist injury and get out of this?"

"No way at all." Turning to face the kids in the back of the van, Maggie aimed a warning look in their direction. "Okay, guys, remember the rules. Chance, rule number one?"

Chance sighed, playing the part of the injured teen.

"Don't leave the group without permission."

Maggie nodded her head and then focused on another boy.

"Brad, rule number two?"

"Show respect to the other bowlers. No bad words, no fighting."

"I think you covered rules two and three." Maggie smiled at all of the kids. "Rule number four— have fun."

In unison they groaned, as if being told to have fun was the worst rule of all.

Inside the darkened interior of the bowling alley a rush of activity surrounded them. First, everyone had to get shoes and then find the right bowling ball. Maggie scurried from one teen to another, trying to get them all taken care of.

When she finally had a free moment, she turned to look for Michael. He stood off to the side, looking like a lost child at the mall. She wanted to ignore him, but she couldn't.

"Did you get shoes?"

He shook his head, the lost-child look again. His long lashes framed his hazel eyes and a shy, out-of-place smile lurked on the firm lines of his mouth. Maggie hooked her arm through his, a gesture that should have been one of camaraderie, but when he pulled her close it changed. She pulled away and led him to the counter where shoes could be rented.

"What size do you wear?"

"Eleven, I guess."

She narrowed her eyes as she looked down at his feet. "You don't know what size shoe you wear?"

"I know what size shoe I wear, but I don't know about bowling shoes."

The man behind the counter handed Michael a pair of boat-size shoes. He stared at the red, blue and tan shoes like they were a contagious disease.

"They won't bite."

"I'm not sure about that."

Maggie propelled him toward the benches behind their lanes.

Michael pulled off his tennis shoes and slipped his feet into the bowling shoes, making only a slight frown.

"You've really never bowled?" She tied the laces of her shoes and then straightened in the chair.

"Not once that I can remember, but I'm sure I'll be fine. How hard can it be? Roll the ball down the lane and watch it knock down the pins."

Maggie stood and he followed. "Oh, of course. You make it sound so simple. How hard can it be?"

For Michael it wasn't too difficult. Maggie watched as he hit his second strike and then she went in search of a snack. When she returned he was sitting on a bench waiting for her. He inclined his head to the seat next to his.

Maggie handed him the soda she'd bought for him and sat. She held out a bag of chips as she watched Chance prepare to stomp the competition.

"Are you surviving?" She swallowed a bite of chips that had far too much sour cream and onion flavoring.

"Yes, I'm surviving." He nodded toward Chance. "That kid has something special. He has a lot of anger, but he also has potential."

"A lot of these kids have potential, Michael. The problem is, nobody expects that from them and they don't expect it from themselves."

"You really take this personally, don't you?"

She didn't know how to answer that. She did take it personally, not only because she cared, but because she had been one of these kids, the ones that were pushed aside and unwanted. She had been the dirty, hungry kid in second-hand clothing. If it hadn't been for her grandmother, and a Sunday school teacher named Irene, she might not have survived.

For Michael she formed an easy answer. "Yes, I take it personally."

His eyes narrowed. He had more questions. "You're doing a great job with them."

"We try. If we can teach these kids to respect themselves, to believe in who they are and in whom God created them to be, we might change the entire course of their lives."

He stared at her as if she had four eyes.

"Is that too optimistic?"

"No, not at all. I just wonder if the kids realize how lucky they are to have someone like you believing in them."

"We all need someone to believe in us, Michael. God always believes, but that isn't easy for a kid to grasp. Sometimes it just takes the belief of one person to make the difference."

"Do you believe…" He looked away, shaking his head but not finishing.

"Believe what?"

He laughed. "It sounds ridiculous for a grown man to say this."

"I've heard ridiculous before."

"Do you believe in
me?
" His gaze flitted away from hers, breaking the connection between them.

Maggie's heart paused, as if it, too, wanted to hear her answer. It had to take a leap of trust, one she hadn't taken in a long time. She trusted her grandmother. She trusted Faith and Pastor Banks. She could count dozens of people she trusted. But did she trust Michael?

She wanted to. She wanted to believe he wouldn't let them down. He wouldn't hurt her.

"You're really having to think about this, aren't you?" His eyes reflected pain, but he smiled.

"I want to believe in you."

"You're painfully honest, Maggie. I like that about you."

He stood and walked away, leaving her to deal with her painfully honest self. Yes, she believed in him. That didn't mean she had false expectations. She had believed in people before.

Michael glanced at his watch again. Only five minutes past nine. He hit the left turn signal and slowed the van to make the turn into the church parking lot. In the seat next to him Maggie laughed. After the conversation at the bowling alley, she had withdrawn. The laughter meant she was back with him. He shot her a look that asked for an explanation.

"You've looked at that watch every two minutes for the last twenty minutes." She reached out to pat his arm. "I hope we haven't kept you from something."

"My mom is hosting a fund-raiser. She expects me to be there."

"You don't want to go?"

"I'm not exactly the poster child of social acceptance at the moment. I'll go, people will stare, politely whisper behind their hands about where I've been and how embarrassed my parents are, and a few of them will ask me how I'm doing or if I have plans for the future."

"It sounds horrible." She cringed and shot him a sideways look that he caught in the dim interior of the van. "I'm sorry. I should have come up with something more optimistic."

"I'd rather hear that than platitudes about how it is all going to work out."

"But it is going…" She smiled. "Sorry again. But next time you have something going on, let me know. I could have dragged Faith along tonight, and you could have gone to the fund-raiser."

"I wanted to go with you tonight." He parked the van and cut the engine. "I'm not here just to kill some time. I want to be a part of this ministry."

The back door of the van opened and the kids piled out, leaving them alone. He wondered about their actions, which seemed suspicious.

Did teenagers play at matchmaking?

He turned to face Maggie and caught her watching him, an intent look in eyes that sparkled like sapphires in the dim light of the van. Her lips parted slightly, as though she meant to say something. But for some reason that gesture drew him to her. Mesmerized, he leaned, his breath catching in his lungs at the thought of Maggie in his arms.

The wary look that crossed her features stopped him. For a second it looked like panic. He leaned back into his seat, letting the moment pass. That was the smartest move. Neither of them needed strings. At least he didn't. He needed to get his life together, and to find out where he was going.

And better this way than to find out the moment was his, not hers. Maybe she hadn't felt it.

"I'm sorry." In the dim glow of the streetlight he saw her confusion. "I shouldn't push my way into your life." He tried to explain, reaching to tug at the tendril of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. The silky strand slipped through his fingers and what he meant as a playful gesture became something stronger and more intimate.

"I need to go." She reached for the door handle. "Thank you for helping tonight. We couldn't have done this without you."

"Maggie, wait."

She shook her head. "No, Michael. It isn't you. It's me."

With that, she slipped out of the van, leaving him alone to ponder what he had learned about himself and about Maggie. The panic in her eyes said it all, and yet he felt like it created more questions.

Maggie sat behind her desk for thirty minutes, contemplating what had happened in the van. In her limited experience, that had definitely been a "moment." And she didn't need that, not now, and not with Michael. She was focused on the youth group, which didn't leave room for "moments." Michael obviously had his own issues to deal with.

She called Faith, doodling on paper as she waited for her friend to answer.

"Hey," Faith answered, sounding distracted.

"Hey, to you, too. What are you doing?"

"Writing."

"Oh."

"Sweetie, what's the matter?"

Maggie threw a wadded-up piece of paper at the trash can. That didn't help. She wadded up another and tossed it harder, the force making it bounce off the side of the can. "I'm such an idiot."

"What does that mean?"

She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out the giant-size Reese's that she'd bought the day before. "I'm an idiot because I'm going to believe in this guy and then he's going to walk away."

"He'd better not hurt you." Faith, always ready to fight when a fight wasn't needed.

"That isn't what I mean. I mean, I'm going to end up letting him into my life and then he's going to leave. He'll get tired of working here with the kids. Or he'll get tired of this life and realize there are other things he can do. This really isn't his world. I think he's just a temporary visitor." She contemplated the peanut-butter cup and how good it would taste before she shoved it back in the drawer. "And he might fall back into his old habits."

Her biggest fear.

She couldn't admit to Faith that she had been tempted, just for a moment, to let him invade her personal space. How long had it been since that had happened?

"Maybe you should see him as a man and not a project. Remember, projects are my hobby. He isn't one of your kids. He probably isn't looking for a glass of milk and chocolate-chip cookies."

She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I've already made that mistake once, or maybe twice, trying to change someone who didn't really want to be changed."

"Maggie, he isn't your mom. And he isn't Greg."

"Well, I'm not going to be the victim again."

"There you go, that's my friend Maggie talking. You're strong, you're a hero to so many people. Look at the lives you've changed at church with your milk and cookies."

Maggie laughed and the tightness around her heart eased.

"Aren't you the encouraging optimist?"

"No, I'm very jaded. That's why we're such good friends. I see black and white. You see lovely shades of rose. And I love you for that. I love that you believe in all those kids. I'm not so sure that I love that you're starting to see Michael Carson as one of them. He isn't."

No, Michael definitely wasn't one of the kids. Maggie started to tell Faith how very aware of that fact she was, but she didn't. She could expect the best for her kids, they were easy. She saw possibilities for a better future in each one of them. Michael only raised questions.

"Why don't you come over for coffee and we'll do some nice, safe online shopping?"

Maggie nodded, but something outside the window caught her attention. She froze as a shiver of fear slid up her spine and lingered in her scalp.

"Maggie?"

She couldn't answer, not when a shadow flitted across the window. Instead she gasped and slid beneath her desk.

"Maggie?"

"There's someone out there."

"I'm calling the police. I'll use my cell phone and you stay on this line with me."

"No, I don't want the police. What if it's a neighbor looking for a cat?"

"Maggie, respectfully shut up."

Not a problem. Besides that, she was shaking too hard to argue. Someone was out there. She could hear them at the window, shoving against the screen. With the phone held to her ear she reached around on the top of her desk for her purse, and her mace. Faith was there, talking to the police, and then saying reassuring things about help being on the way.

And then she heard the sirens.

M
ichael answered his cell phone, easing away from the crowd with an apologetic look for his mother. She sighed and whispered something to the woman at her side about his "church work."

"Noah?" Why would Noah be calling?

"There's a problem at the church."

Michael threaded his way through the crowded art museum and walked out of the building. "What's up?"

"A prowler call. I had my scanner on and I thought you'd want to know."

"I'm at the gallery, and I left Maggie at the church. I should have made sure she left or got home safe." He closed his eyes. "Do you think it's Vince?"

"I don't think he would do that. The police are on the scene now."

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the gesture would be a magic cure for stress. It didn't help. He kept picturing Maggie at the church, afraid. And that thought got replaced by the look of panic in her eyes when she'd hurried from the van.

"Michael, do you want me to drive down there and check on her? I think they were going to escort her home, but I can make a few calls."