Trusting Him

by Brenda Minton

  Or at least it appeared that way on the surface, probably more to people who didn't know him. But she had seen the pain in his eyes, the hardness that sometimes sneaked in. She had seen the scar on his stomach that was evidence of a life that hadn't been spent in church.

  "So, how about that dinner you wouldn't let me buy you the other night?"

  "I don't think so. I have work to get done, and I thought I'd order a pizza to take home."

  His cell phone rang as she finished talking. He shot her an apologetic look as he answered. Maggie tried to pretend she couldn't hear the conversation. She could, and it stung.

  "I'm sorry, I did forget dinner. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

  She waited for him to end the call before she flashed him her best "It's really okay" smile.

  "Sorry." To his credit he looked it.

  "You have to leave?" She tried to sound unaffected by that. So why in the world did she feel hurt and let down? Because this always happened when she got attached or let herself start to care. It had even happened when she was six years old and Davy Parker had asked her to be his girlfriend. She had circled "yes" on his note. He smiled, and the next day he passed a note to Cindy Johnson asking her the same thing.

  "I forgot a dinner engagement and I'm late."

  "Of course, I understand." At her age she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up about dinner. She should have remembered Davy Parker.

  "I don't want to leave, Maggie. I wouldn't go if I didn't have to."

  Or her dad. He could have been there for her during a childhood that had been anything but stable. She stood, planning to escape, to get herself a cup of coffee and another dozen cookies. "You don't have to explain your actions to me, Michael."

  Okay, that didn't sound at all like the voice of someone who didn't care. She would have to work on that, on getting down a certain degree of neutrality.

  "I'm not walking out on you. I forgot a prior commitment, that's all." He stood and moved closer. Maggie felt him invading her imaginary circle of personal space and backed away.

  Age twenty, Greg in a car, wanting more than she had ever considered giving, and taking it when she said no.

  She slid past him, heading for the door. He reached for her arm and she moved from his grasp. Michael, not Greg, she reminded herself, and Michael wouldn't hurt her. She knew that without doubting.

  But he could hurt her. Somewhere along the way her heart had become entangled, forgetting that she didn't want to form attachments. The sincerity in his hazel eyes and his love for the kids made her want to believe in him.

  More than that, sometimes when he looked at her, the way he was looking at her at this very moment, she felt like he honestly cared about her.

  "Maggie, I'm not sure what's going on."

  She nearly laughed. The poor guy probably didn't get it. If anyone could have less experience with male/female relationships than she did, it would have to be Michael Carson. He wouldn't notice a girl getting attached if she used Super Glue.

  Okay, so not his fault. Give him a break.

  "I need a glass of water to wash down my milk. I poured that huge glass. Silly me, I forgot that I don't like milk."

  "I promised you dinner, and I'm going to keep that promise." His cell phone rang again. "But maybe not tonight."

  "Big plans?" she asked when he hung up.

  "I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents and an old college buddy of my dad's…and like the evil twin I am, I forgot."

  "Oh." That one pathetically lacking word slipped from her lips. What else could she say? "You have a twin?"

  He laughed. "You know I don't have a twin. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you come with me?"

  "I don't think so." She reached for her coffee cup and slid past him.

  "Why not?"

  "I'm wearing sweats and a T-shirt. And because my last visit with your parents was a little bit of a disaster."

  "It wasn't."

  "Michael, you might not have noticed, but I don't belong in your world."

  "You belong wherever you want to be, Maggie."

  He had her there. "Okay, I don't want to be in that world."

  It was the world of her father and her grandparents. And they had never thought she belonged.

  "I don't get you, Maggie."

  "It isn't a requirement for working here. We can work with the kids and not completely understand each other. You should probably go now. You don't want to be any later than you already are."

  "Fine, I'm going. But, Maggie, eat something other than cookies. You need to take care of yourself."

  She smiled at that. She had been taking care of herself for a long time, long before he showed up.

  "Have a good time, Michael."

  He shot a smile over his shoulder as he walked out.

  An hour later the ringing of the telephone interrupted her work. Maggie glanced at the object, wishing it could understand that she didn't want to be bothered. It rang again and she knew she would answer, it might be her grandmother.

  "There's going to be a young man at the door in about five minutes." Michael's voice, and he sounded very pleased. "It's safe to let him in."

  "Oh, are you matchmaking now?" She smiled, shifting her shoulder to hold the phone against her cheek.

  "Not on your life. I just wanted to warn you, so you wouldn't be afraid to open the door."

  "So what does the young man want?" She shoved aside a pile of papers. It was never easy to get everything in order for vacation Bible school. "Is he here to clean?"

  "It's a surprise. I just wanted to do something nice for you." He was smiling, she could hear it in his voice. "I have to go, so hurry and answer the front door."

  As if on cue, a banging on the front door of the church ended their conversation.

  The surprise at the door brought a mist of tears to her eyes. The young man held out a tray and as she took it, he bowed and handed her a note. Maggie thanked him, offered a tip that he wouldn't accept and then stepped back into the building to lock the door.

  The aroma that wafted out from under the coverings on the tray made her mouth water. Maggie didn't make it to her office. She sat at the front desk and lifted one of the coverings. Chicken with a creamy— she leaned to sniff— mustard sauce, asparagus, rice, a roll and even cheesecake for dessert.

  Her hand still clutched the note. Lifting the flap, she pulled out the piece of paper and held it up. "Someone has to take care of you. Eat this before it gets cold and forgive me for running out on you. Michael."

  Of course she would forgive him, how could she not forgive him when her heart had just melted into a huge puddle on the floor?

  Chapter TwelveFriday afternoon, after brief spring showers, the sun came out and so did the kids. A large group gathered in the rec room to play pool or Ping-Pong. Most of them, but not all. Maggie peeked through the miniblinds in the church kitchen and watched Michael playing basketball with Chance.

  He pulled down the bandanna that was wrapped around his forehead, wiped his face, then he pushed the red cloth back into place. Glistening with sweat, he held the basketball over his head and jumped, making the shot with ease. Chance shook his head and walked off.

  "Spying?"

  Maggie jumped, spinning to face Pastor Banks. "Just watching them play," she hedged as she brushed past him, reaching for a glass. "I came in to get a glass of water."

  "Maggie, you're nearly twenty-seven years old. It's okay for you to be attracted to a man." Pastor Banks followed her to the sink. Sometimes she regretted that he had filled the role of father figure in her life. It made him incredibly opinionated at times.

  "Who said I'm attracted to anybody?" She ran the glass under the water, emptied it and refilled it. "I was watching their silly game. Chance is really doing great. Don't you think?"

  "We're not talking about Chance, we're talking about you and the fact that you won't let yourself have a relationship, other than friendships."

  "I'm not that needy." She sm
iled, hoping to get a similar response from her pastor. He didn't smile. "Pastor Banks, I'm happy doing what I do. This is the commitment that I've made, to serve God by working with teens. I don't have room in my life for relationships that might take my time and attention away from what I do."

  "Not true. You're trying to protect your heart. You have to stop punishing yourself for mistakes that your parents made." Pastor Banks pointed to a chair and she didn't dare tell him no. She plopped down, concentrating on the glass of water and hoping the sermon wouldn't last the usual hour.

  "Go ahead, I'm listening."

  "No, you're not. You're closing your ears to everything I say." He pulled the glass out of her hand. The fatherly look in place on his face, telling her he would be heard. "Maggie, you have to forgive your dad and stop living your life in this shadow of guilt. You did not make a mistake, your parents did. I know that isn't what you want to hear, but you have to stop punishing yourself as if your very existence is the sin."

  The words sank in, even when she tried to shrug them off. This was a new sermon, not the old one about forgiving her dad. Or even the one about letting someone in. This one would take some time to digest.

  "I'm illegitimate." She looked up, blinking back the tears that burned her eyes. "Do you know how that hurts? All of my life I've been asked, 'Where is your dad?' and I didn't have an answer. How could I tell kids that I don't have a father? Not a real father, the kind who shows up at school programs or holds your hand when you cross the street."

  "But you do have a Father, a Heavenly Father, and He wants you to give this pain to Him. If you don't, then you're carrying the burden alone."

  She knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. She reached for her glass of water and Pastor Banks slid it across the table to her. After taking a drink she lifted her eyes to meet his.

  "You're right. I can't paint everyone guilty because of what a couple of people have done. I know that's wrong, but I have a hard time opening up, knowing that I could be hurt again." She slid her hand down the side of the glass.

  "What if you keep yourself closed off and you miss out?"

  "Good point."

  "Maggie, are you doing okay, having Michael here? Is it bringing up too much of the past, and too many memories about Greg and what he did? You told me when we started this with Michael that you'd be honest with me if it was a problem. I promised you I'd move him out of the youth ministry if it didn't work."

  "I'm fine with Michael. To be honest, having him here has proven one thing to me. I'm healing. Michael isn't like my mom. He's going to make it. And what Greg did is in the past. Sometimes it comes back to haunt me, but it doesn't have a hold over my life."

  "I'm glad to hear that. So what is the problem between you and Michael?"

  "I want to know that we can count on him. I don't want to start relying on him, or have the kids attach themselves to him, only to have him decide he doesn't need this anymore."

  Or worse, what if he slipped? What if the past pulled him back into the life he had escaped? She shouldn't doubt, but the phone calls and times that he left without giving an explanation worried her.

  She didn't want to lose him. And that thought frightened her more than anything, because she didn't know exactly what it meant.

  "I don't think that's going to happen."

  Pastor Banks's statement brought her head up and for a moment she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. "I'm sorry, what isn't going to happen?"

  "He isn't going to change his mind about being here." His eyes softened with compassion. "You're like a daughter to me, Maggie. If I could take this pain from you, I would. I can pray for you, though. I want you to pray about it. Let God take the burden. Don't keep holding on to it, pretending it's gone when it isn't."

  She promised to pray. But she didn't tell him that the burden had changed and had become something completely different. The new fear was that if she didn't keep her distance from Michael Carson, her heart would end up broken.

  * * *

  Michael wiped his face with the bandanna he had tied around his neck. Chance shouted to get his attention, but Michael's mind was still on the conversation he'd overheard when he went inside for a drink of water.

  Maggie's words, tight with pain, had buried themselves in his heart. He tried to force them from his mind and the role he played in that pain.

  He didn't want to be another person who hurt her, but he couldn't be the person she leaned on. He didn't know yet if he could even be strong enough for himself.

  "Are we going to play?" Chance rushed forward, hands out for the pass.

  Michael tossed the basketball to the teenager, who made the shot with ease. The kid had talent, surprisingly good talent, maybe even exceptional. Michael relayed that information verbally and Chance turned several shades of red. Compliments were something the boy never seemed to understand.

  "You're good, Chance. Keep this up and maybe you'll get a college scholarship."

  Chance shook his head and lifted the basketball to let it fly through the hoop again. "I'm not even on the team at school."

  "Not on the team? Why not?" Michael grabbed the ball as it bounced across the pavement of the driveway.

  "I just never make the cut. And my grades didn't used to be so great. It doesn't matter." The lanky kid, all legs and arms, blond hair falling into his eyes, shrugged his shoulders.

  "Next year you have to try. Think about it, Chance, you might be able to get a college scholarship."

  Chance shook his head. "My dad would just say we can't afford it."

  Visions of a shiny new sports car parked in Chance's front yard flashed before Michael's eyes. He tossed the basketball toward the hoop and watched as it circled the rim and dropped through the net. He took a deep breath, releasing his anger with Chance's dad.

  "Where does your dad work, Chance?"

  Chance trotted across the pavement and grabbed the ball. "He doesn't."

  Michael nodded and jumped forward to grab the basketball. Chance slid past him. As he did, Michael caught sight of another bruise. This time the dark swelling was on his arm. Maybe it wasn't a fist mark, maybe the kid ran into something.

  Michael doubted it. He wanted to ask questions, but the timing wasn't right. In the last couple of weeks, Chance had started to come out of his shell, to drop some of his anger.

  A car honked. Michael glanced toward the road and saw the car from Chance's driveway. He turned his attention back to the kid at his side. Chance stood frozen in the parking lot, the basketball in his hands.

  Michael looked back in the direction of the car that had slowed to a crawl as it passed. Chance's dad. Obviously the guy was a "businessman." Michael felt a sickening knot in his stomach.

  "My dad." Chance spoke softly as he dropped the ball on the pavement. "I should go."

  "Chance, are you okay?" Michael grabbed the ball, which had rolled a few feet from where Chance dropped it. "Do you need to talk?"

  The kid shook his head, blond hair falling into his eyes. "No, why would I need to talk? I just need to go."

  They walked back to the church.

  "I'm here, if you change your mind." Michael put a hand out and stopped Chance from going inside.

  Chance jerked away from Michael's hand. "I don't need your help, so back off."

  Michael watched him walk away, but in his mind he replayed all of the times in his own life when he had pushed away the people who wanted to help him. He was still rebuilding those relationships, but he had pushed some people so far away, he thought he might never repair the damage. And now, if he pushed Maggie away to keep her safe, what would happen to the friendship that was growing between them?

  * * *

  Maggie looked up when Michael walked into her office. He didn't return her smile. He crossed the room, peeked out the window and then sat in the chair across from her desk.

  "What's wrong with you, did you lose the game?" The kids had been gone for almost an hour. In that time, Michael h
ad been missing in action.

  "No…well, yeah, but that isn't it." He folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Chance's dad is beating him."

  "Yeah, I know."

  He looked up, his eyes widening. "What do you mean, you know?"

  "Chance has been in and out of foster care for years," she explained.

  "But his dad is beating him."

  Maggie felt sorry for him. He had grown up in a different world, one that had protected him from the harsh realities of life…for a while.

  How could she explain a system that was overworked and limited on funds? "Michael, the system isn't perfect. We hotline his dad, Family Services comes in and investigates. Sometimes they can pull Chance from the home and put him in a foster home, or a group home, sometimes there isn't enough evidence. And the biggest problem is that there aren't enough homes for teenagers. They end up shipping them all over the area and sometimes out of state."

  "I didn't know." He looked down at the desk. "I wonder if I'm cut out for this."

  "For what? For ministry?" She reached across the desk and covered his hand with hers. "The fact that you care says a lot, Michael. If you didn't care about these kids and what happens to them, I would tell you to take a hike."

  He looked up then and smiled. "I know.

  "God has a way of leading us into unknown territory."

  "But I'm not qualified to minister to these kids." He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Ministers minister. I'm an ex-con with no experience, not even in life. I can handle teaching them some math, or even some Spanish, but I don't know how to handle situations like the one with Chance."

  "Listen to your heart. You're doing a better job than you think."

  "I'm an ex-con, Maggie. I'm an addict." He stood and lifted his shirt. "You saw this the other day?"

  She nodded as he pointed to a jagged scar on his stomach. He sat back down, lowering his shirt and lifting his head so that she could look into his eyes.

  "What happened?"

  "That's what happens when a drug deal goes bad. That's from a broken bottle." He looked up, meeting her gaze head-on this time. "That is a reminder of where I've been."