Mission accomplished. He’d gotten through. Now to move forward.
“You’re doing really well here.” He waited until Cody glanced up at him, and smiled, willing the boy to relax and not shut down again. “I’m proud of your accomplishments.”
The straight line of his shoulders sagged slightly, and his eyebrows perked. “So I’m going to pass?”
“That’s up to you.” Max shrugged, the casual move a contradiction to the urgency in his gut. He still wasn’t certain why Cody passing the program mattered so much to him personally. He cared about all his campers, and it ate at him the few times he’d had to send teenagers home early for consistently destructive behavior. He couldn’t save them all, and he knew that.
But he really wanted to save Cody.
It had to be his ties to Emma, which hopefully Cody was still unaware of. It’d be hard for him to trust Max if he felt Max was more on his mom’s side than his own.
Which was true in some ways—but not necessarily in others. He knew no parent was perfect, but until he got the whole story, it was hard to determine where the blame really lay. Each teen was ultimately responsible for his own actions, but if it were evident they’d had a disadvantage from birth, Max tried to address it with the parents and even the courts, if needed.
Cody had to pass. For his own sake, and for Emma’s. Max would do all he could to help him, but he wouldn’t cut corners or let the boy off without earning it. Enabling would only land Cody in jail one day. “You’ll pass if you keep doing the hard work.”
Cody plucked at the intentional hole in the knee of his jeans. “I’ve almost nailed the rope swing.” His voice lifted with a thin layer of optimism, though Max could sense the trepidation still under the surface.
“You’ll get it.” He nodded with confidence, wishing he could follow Cody around and verbally build the boy up even after he left camp. He thrived under compliments. Did Emma realize? He made a mental note to tell her. “But I don’t mean just physical hard work.”
Cody sighed hard enough to rustle the stack of papers on Max’s desk. “I know.”
“Next One4One.” His tone didn’t elicit an argument, and thankfully, Cody didn’t try. He stood, inviting Cody to do the same, and walked him to the office door. “You’re doing good, man. You know that, right?”
He stopped just outside the door, eyes focused somewhere near his boots. “I guess.”
Under-confidence was just as bad, if not worse, than overconfidence. It seemed lately it was a lot easier to knock down than build up. “Just do me a favor. Don’t stop the process.” He wanted to jump inside Cody and fill whatever void lingered. From his father. From his lack of connection with his mom. From God. The teen years were scary enough in the most ideal of conditions—and Cody’s situation was far from ideal.
As was Emma’s.
When Cody finally lifted his head and nodded, blond hair falling over his eyes in a cowlick he’d been fighting since his first day on the ranch, Max drew a sharp intake of breath. For a minute, he’d seen something so familiar in Cody’s expression, it’d been like looking in a mirror.
Must be his own past saying hi to Cody’s present. How many times had Max felt the exact same way Cody looked? Confused. Lost. Trapped in his own skin.
More determined to help the boy than ever, Max shut the door behind him with a solid thump and briefly rested his forehead against it. He still needed to find out what made Cody tick.
Which meant one thing.
He needed to talk to Emma.
* * *
Emma didn’t know which had her more on edge—the constant awareness of everything Tonya did or didn’t put in her mouth, or the fact that Stacy stood armed and ready ten paces to her left with a bow and arrow.
Rubber tipped, but still. Good thing she didn’t have an apple on her head.
Emma pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down farther over her hands to warm them as Luke and one of the part-time counselors jogged back and forth between campers, demonstrating the proper technique of drawing back the arrow on the bow. The goal was to let it fly toward the stacked hay bales so many yards downwind. It looked impossibly far to her.
“What’s the point of this whole archery thing?” Emma snagged Max’s shirtsleeve as he strolled past, his face relaxed and bronze in the sunshine streaming across the open field. The afternoon breeze rustled the hair under his cowboy hat, and he glanced down at her hand on his arm before she abruptly removed it. Definitely had to remember her no-touching rule, or she’d permanently walk around feeling as if she’d been zapped in the hand.
“It’s a group competition. I’m teaching them the value of teamwork and encouragement.” His grin widened. “Plus, it’s fun.”
Teamwork and encouragement. Right. Emma just hoped it wouldn’t teach a new vehicle for violence. They weren’t exactly in the presence of a bunch of Maid Marians.
“Trust me.” Max squeezed her shoulder before moving past her. “You’ll see.” He winked, and she was left torn between focusing on the butterflies stirred by his touch and snorting over his request to trust him.
Either inevitably proved useless, so she focused on her girls instead.
Beside her, Katie bounced excitedly, waiting for her turn, while Tonya stood coolly with arms crossed, no doubt concerned that archery wouldn’t go much better for her than the obstacle course. Those two were on Luke’s team, while Jarvis, Stacy and Cody had been placed on the other male counselor’s team.
“Archers ready!” Max clapped his hands. “Luke, you’re up. You won the toss.”
Luke’s team slapped high fives, while he quickly bent and went over a few reminders to Katie. “You’re up, Red.”
She blushed at the nickname but seemed to enjoy the cheers from her group. Emma slowly relaxed. Apparently the team idea was a stroke of genius, because even those that had mocked the competition previously were suddenly on board, shouting encouragement to Katie.
Her first shot went high, over the bales, but her second nailed just to the right of the target’s bull’s-eye. She struck a sassy pose before passing the bow to the boy in line behind her.
From Max’s team, Jarvis drew back the arrow and landed two solid hits to the target, though not as close as Katie’s near bull’s-eye. He handed their team’s bow off to Cody and sneered. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
Emma took a step forward before catching herself, then looked to see if Max had caught the exchange. If he had, he wasn’t letting on. Frustration stirred, but she kept her feet firmly in place—despite the urge to march over to Cody’s side and intervene.
Then a cold wave of suspicion doused her anger. Was this the kind of thing Cody dealt with at school every day? If he were the subject of constant teasing and tormenting due to his size and the perspective of being an easy target, no wonder he had so much pent-up aggression. No wonder he kept trying to prove himself to his peers, earn acceptance the wrong way.
She stared at her son as if she’d never seen him before.
Maybe she hadn’t.
Cody waited for the next guy on Luke’s team to go, then warily drew back his arrow, his arm visibly shaking even from her vantage point down the line. He sucked in his breath, and his first shot went over the target by a foot, disappearing into the golden field beyond.
He scowled, and Emma bunched the cuffs of her hoodie in her hands. Max used to have that same expression when pushed past his emotional limit. It was the same scowl she’d seen when his friend got sick in the backseat of his truck the day after he’d vacuumed it out for their first date. And the same scowl he wore when he saw Emma talking to a guy from her church youth group at the grocery store about a week later.
Did he recognize the expression at all? Would anyone else notice the similarities? Their matching cowlicks, identical eyes...
Max broke
apart from the team and approached Cody, and her heart squeezed. He bent slightly to talk to him privately, clearly instructing him on how to better grasp the bow. He demonstrated, and Cody mimicked the motion with concentration.
The could-have-beens and should-have-beens paraded through her mind in sickeningly slow motion. Max and Cody batting a whiffle ball. Max and Cody teetering on a two-wheel bike without training wheels. Max and Cody in grease-stained jeans, bent over the hood of his truck.
He’d missed all those opportunities to be a dad. And Cody had missed all those opportunities to experience a father.
Emma tore her gaze away from them as Max jogged aside, allowing Cody space to prepare for his next shot. Cody raised the bow with a much steadier arm and frowned downwind as he focused on the target. Jarvis whispered something and nudged the guy next to him, and Emma chalked it up to the Lord’s grace in Jarvis’s favor that she didn’t catch what it was.
Cody continued to hold his position, the lines of his face more determined than she’d ever seen. Her heart stammered, and she desperately wanted to pray. For him to hit the target. For him to find what he was so desperately seeking. For him to get through this entire experience in one piece.
For him and Max both to forgive her once they knew the truth.
She held her breath as Cody’s amateur grip released. Her hopes soared along with the arrow as it shot straight and true in a steady arch toward the bull’s-eye.
And landed just short of the target.
Chapter Thirteen
“You are allowed to take breaks, you know.” Max put down his pen and studied her over the rim of his reading glasses, the likes of which Emma still couldn’t get used to. The small black frames alluded more to college professor than cowboy, but the contradiction only added to Max’s appeal. He made any look seem attractive.
Unfortunately, she was supposed to be concentrating on brainstorming new group projects with him—not admiring the way his hair curled slightly at his neck or the way his button-down work shirt strained slightly at the buttons, as if his broad chest couldn’t be fully contained.
Definitely not.
“I’m on a break now.” She straightened from her spot on the tan suede sofa, resisting the urge to stretch despite the kink in her neck. They’d agreed—reluctantly on her part—to work together in the living area of the main house while the kids enjoyed their recreation time. They were nearby if the other counselors needed them but were still situated privately enough to discuss upcoming events without overeager young ears.
And without being too private.
She fought a blush, hoping he couldn’t read her thoughts as easily as he used to. “Faith is with the girls.”
“I know where she is.” Max grinned, and she quickly looked back at her notebook, which sadly held very few usable ideas. She just couldn’t concentrate with Max so painfully close. Not after finally admitting to herself what his proximity did to her, even this many years later. But after all they’d experienced and shared together, how could she be immune?
If she could concoct an ex-boyfriend antidote, she’d be a billionaire.
“I just meant you’re still working right now, helping me out like this, even if it’s not directly with the kids. Whenever Faith relieves you, it’s totally fine for you to go have some alone time, or visit your mom, or whatever you want.” Max leaned forward from his position in the recliner across from her and reached for his canned soda on the end table. “I know this job can be exhausting. I just don’t want you to feel trapped.” He winced. “Especially since you’re not getting paid.”
Good thing she wasn’t, or she’d have to refund every penny at the rate she was going. Maybe she’d covered some ground with Tonya originally, but she still hadn’t been able to confirm anything one way or another, despite days of surveillance.
As for her progress with Stacy, well, Emma didn’t know if anyone was capable of breaking down that stony exterior. At least she had Katie, who continued to be a bright spot in the camp.
“I’m not trapped.” The words felt like a lie leaving her mouth, and she drummed her pen against the notepad in her lap. She was, in so many ways. But that wasn’t really Max’s fault. “I mean, I know I can leave. I just don’t—” She caught herself before admitting she didn’t want to visit her mom. She cleared her throat. “I prefer to stay.”
The momentary smolder in Max’s eyes hinted at his seconding that particular choice, and she blinked quickly to bat it away. Glimpses of the old Max, the one she fell for so many years ago, kept sporadically popping to the surface, catching her heart unaware. Just when she felt her guard was firmly in place, he’d make an inside joke from back in the day or shoot her that wink that had once left her breathless, and just like that, her armor chinked. “Besides, you needed my help with this.”
Unless it was just an excuse to spend more time with her. She wouldn’t put it past him—the old Max had been incredibly crafty and manipulative when he wanted to be. Had that personality trait gone by the wayside when he’d cleaned himself up? How much personality went away when one made such dramatic life changes, anyway? Or did God just tweak it to be used for good instead of bad?
Good questions. Too bad God didn’t seem prone to give her direct answers anymore. She’d severed that connection with Him years ago, when she chose sin over what was right. When she succumbed to the same temptations she once judged in her peers.
When she was left to pay for the consequences all by herself.
Loud laughter suddenly rang out from the rec room down the hall, and warmth spread across Max’s expression. “That’s always nice to hear.”
“Yeah. Unless they’re laughing at someone.” Her stomach clenched, remembering the way Jarvis had teased Cody during the archery competition the afternoon before. It still riled her inside, and worst of all, made her feel helpless.
She could handle fear. Rejection. Abandonment. Anger. Insecurity. Bring it on.
But helplessness? Her least favorite. She wanted to act. Fix. Be. Do. And at Camp Hope, she might as well be watching from behind a two-way mirror. All visual, zero interaction.
Helpless.
Again.
Max frowned as he set his soda can back on the table. “They don’t pick on Cody 24/7, despite how it might look to you.”
“Jarvis has pulled some kind of stunt with him every time we’re in the group projects.” Emma wanted to draw a big line through the list of ideas she’d come up with on her page. If the group projects were what made the camp harder for her son, she’d rather just eliminate the whole thing.
“He’s acting out for the girls. It happens like that at every camp.”
Emma frowned. Max almost looked more amused than concerned. And there was nothing funny about it. “I don’t think it’s that simple. Something tells me Jarvis is more hard-core than that.”
“Jarvis will realize it’s a wasted effort soon enough, trust me.”
He wasn’t listening. “Sure. And meanwhile, my son is sacrificed.”
Max arched an eyebrow at her. “Not fair.”
He was right. It wasn’t. She drew a deep breath and tightened her grip on her pen. She was lashing out because she had no control. Over Cody—or even her own heart. She might have seen warning signs in the past over guys like Jarvis, but Max probably had, too. And he was in charge of this one, not her.
“You’re right.” She glanced down at her notes, the words swimming as her vision blurred. “So, what about incorporating art into the kids’ schedule?” She fought to keep her tone level and free of emotion. “For expression.”
Max’s mouth opened and shut twice, as if debating whether or not to push their previous topic, but he finally nodded. “Sounds good. Some of the teens would probably think it a chore, but I bet several would enjoy it. Could be helpful.”
“And interesting, to see what they’d paint if they had complete freedom.”
“Good idea.” His eyes lit at the possibilities. “Maybe it’ll open some doors into their subconscious for us.” Before she could argue, he got up and joined her on the sofa, forcing her to scoot sideways several inches to avoid being sat on. “I’ll set that up for tomorrow. It’ll be a good Saturday project.” He looked down at her notes, tilting his head sideways to read. “What else you got there?”
As much as it meant to her that he valued her opinion, she almost covered her list with her hand from embarrassment. At least she had scratched out where she’d accidentally doodled his name earlier. “Nothing much.”
“Trust exercises?” Max pointed to an entry halfway down her sheet, under where she had drawn a line through relay races. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know, all the cliché, old-fashioned stuff they used to make us do at church youth camp.”
He stilled, and she hesitated, not sure if she’d offended or just brought up a bad memory. She’d forgotten—Max hadn’t gone to youth camps. He didn’t grow up in the church with her—or any church, for that matter. “I don’t know, actually.”
She sidestepped the conversational pothole she’d created and rushed forward. “Where you pair off into teams of two and take turns leading each other verbally through an obstacle course. Or falling backward on a short stool or chair to be caught by your partner.” She’d always hated that one. Guess she had trust issues from way back.
He nodded, but his guarded gaze kept her from determining if he’d let go of whatever negative emotion had momentarily stirred. “I like that. Let’s add that to the schedule, too.” He met her eyes, and slowly the wall evaporated into a sincere smile. “You’re good at this.”
“I have a degree in this.” She shrugged.
“No, it’s a gift. Really.” He reached over and brushed her hair off her shoulder. Her body stiffened on instinct, and she tried to relax to keep from letting him know how much it affected her. “You’re a natural.”
Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected CowboyHis Ideal MatchThe Rancher's Secret Son Page 51
