Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2

by Ruth Logan Herne, Allie Pleiter

  “Ouch!” Max couldn’t quite believe the woman had such a left hook.

  “I’m glad that hurt. You need to wake up. You’re not afraid she’ll leave you—you’re afraid she won’t!” She addressed the ceiling—or God, Max wasn’t quite sure which. “What’s the matter with young people today, wanting life all tied up in pretty bows with all the problems solved?”

  “I hardly think my life is all tied up in—”

  “Don’t interrupt me, Hot Wheels. I’m just getting started. You got hurt bad—I get that. Lots of men I know wouldn’t be able to pull themselves out of a hole like that, much less with your admirable sense of panache. You’ve got a right to be angry—but only for a while and not at the whole world. Heather Browning could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Only I think you already know that. So step up to the plate, son—or wheel up to it, in your case—and grab at a chance with her. You will not regret it even if she does break your heart in the end because you will have given it a shot.” She grabbed his hand, shaking it with each word. “And that’s what matters.” Her eyes teared up a bit, making Max wonder what in life had given her all that fire.

  “I’ll bet Mr. Sharpton is an awesome guy.”

  Her expression gave Max the answer. “He was, honey. He truly was.”

  Had his parents ever loved each other like that? Fierce and full of life? He’d never heard Mom talk about Dad that way. Alex and JJ had that maybe, but it was still so new for them. At the end of it all, he wanted what Vi had had. Anything else wouldn’t feel like enough. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She sniffed. “Don’t be sorry. Be telling me what color yarn to buy.”

  “Do you think you could pull off pink with flamingos?”

  Her smile sparkled, even with the tears still brimming in her eyes. “After your flamethrower, I can do anything.”

  Max rolled past the church office ten minutes later. “You can tell Pastor Allen he doesn’t need to call me back.”

  The secretary looked up, baffled. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Violet Sharpton just took me to church.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Margot stood in Heather’s office doorway Friday morning. “Mrs. Williams just sent me an email formally requesting Simon’s withdrawal from school.” Margot never sugarcoated bad news. While Heather knew that—and often liked that about her—she wished for a softer blow this morning.

  “After all that conversation yesterday? All Simon’s pleading?” She’d spent several hours after school yesterday helping Simon tell his parents he didn’t want to stay home. She felt the failure settle around her like a lead wrapping. Margot was right—this had become a deeply personal battle for her.

  “They are his parents. It’s their decision.”

  Heather pushed away her keyboard and sunk her chin into her hands. “What do you think?”

  Margot leaned against the doorway and sighed. “I think Simon is becoming his own person, and that’s good. But that person is still only fifteen and may not know what’s best right now. There’s always next year. Or even next semester.”

  “That doesn’t help. I hate it that Kikowitz wins. Why does he get to come back to school and rule the lunchroom while Simon sits at home?”

  “Coach Mullen suspended him from the play-offs, if that makes you feel any better.”

  Heather raised a doubtful eyebrow. “It should, but it doesn’t.”

  Margot folded her hands in front of her in an “it is what it is” gesture. “Well, we’ve still got curriculum night to get through and I—” She caught sight of something in the hallway that stopped her midsentence. “I’m going to leave you to your visitor.”

  “My visitor?”

  Max wheeled into the administrative offices, a serious look seeming foreign on his usually cavalier features.

  Margot caught Heather’s eye. “Unless you need me to stay?”

  “No,” Heather said quietly. Even after everything that had happened, how could she still be so drawn in by Max’s presence? “I’m okay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. Max, who still had not said a word, wheeled silently into her office. She let him nudge the guest chair aside, needing to keep her desk between them. “I asked you not to come to school.”

  “I know you did. But I can’t get up the stairs to your apartment and I wasn’t sure you’d come down to meet me if I called.”

  He was right; she probably wouldn’t have. He still tugged at her heart in ways she wasn’t strong enough to resist. How fair was it that he seemed twice as compelling now as he had when he was all boastful and defiant?

  “This is for you.” He placed a small package on her desk rather than handing it directly to her. She was glad of that—she didn’t want to risk any touch from him right now. “Well, sort of. It’s not really a gift, more of an...offering.”

  Intrigued, she picked up the package and pulled open the brown paper wrapping. Inside was the Never Apologize shirt she’d seen him wear multiple times. Really? That was his idea of an offering? As far as she was concerned, Max owed her a handful of apologies.

  “I can’t wear it anymore. Mostly because you’re about to become the first person I’ve apologized to in years. I hurt you. I betrayed your trust in me, and I hurt Simon.” He waited until she looked up at him before adding, “I’m sorry. I know it probably doesn’t change anything, but I am sorry.”

  He was right; it didn’t change anything. Part of her was glad he didn’t go so far as to ask for her forgiveness, because she wasn’t ready to give it. “Simon wants to come back to school but his parents just requested he be withdrawn for homeschooling. I tried to change their minds, but I failed.”

  “He wants to come back, after all that, but they won’t let him?” The old defiant Max appeared in the narrowing of his eyes.

  She parroted Margot’s words. “It’s their decision. He’s their son.” After a moment, she added, “And we haven’t given them a lot of reasons to place their confidence in us to keep him safe.” Some wounded part of her wanted to snap, Thanks to you, but she didn’t. Max was the catalyst, surely, but he wasn’t the whole problem. “Even if Kikowitz is expelled, I couldn’t hope to assure them some other bully wouldn’t pick up where he left off.”

  “That’s not a reason. Life is full of Kikowitzes.”

  “Maybe it is best. Simon is so bright—he’ll probably be ready for college courses by his sophomore year if he homeschools. The state college would be so much more welcoming to him than we could ever be.”

  He frowned at her. “You don’t believe that.”

  She was trying to, if only to soften the sting of failing Simon. “It’s not my choice.”

  Max ran his hands down his face. “So now what?”

  “There isn’t anything to do, Max.” All that was left now was to slosh her way through the aftermath and pray that some good came out of the month Simon had been at school. She couldn’t bear the thought that all this had come to nothing at all.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  She held up the shirt. “Then, if you want something to do, I think you should go apologize to Simon and his parents. If there’s one thing you can still teach Simon, it’s how a man behaves when he’s wrong.” She stunned herself with the force of her words.

  “I doubt they’ll let me.”

  She stood up. “Then simply let Simon see you try.”

  She expected Max to huff Fine! and wheel from the room. Instead he looked up at her with something she’d never seen in his eyes before and asked, “Will you come with me?”

  It was a long, unsteady moment before she replied. “Yes.”

  * * *

  Max had flung himself off a cliff at night in the rain and
not been as anxious as he was now. Of course, he had been a different man before that night, caring about different things and not caring about a lot of things. Somehow—and Max still wasn’t quite sure how—this whole business with Simon and Heather had become a tipping point. As he wheeled past the faint orange lettering still visible on the sidewalk in front of the Williamses’ house, Max knew big things were riding on the outcome of today.

  “Hello.” Brian Williams’s eyes were as icy as his tone when he pulled open the front door. While the ramp built for Simon made it logistically easy to go inside, the invisible obstacles felt like Mount Everest. Max couldn’t be certain if he’d be allowed to stay ten seconds after offering his apology, but he was going to try.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Williams.” Max held out a hand, but Mr. Williams declined to shake it. It was a painful reminder of the time just after his accident when Alex Cushman had extended a hand to him, and he’d been the one to refuse the courtesy. That vengeful first meeting with Alex had eventually led to a business partnership—and a family connection now that Alex was JJ’s husband. Max let that truth carry him past Brian’s cold greeting and keep his optimism. Time, as Alex was fond of saying, for God to show how big He is.

  “Hi, Simon. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Williams.” Heather managed to keep her tone light and cheerful even though Max knew she’d caught the father’s gesture.

  Max moved his attention to Simon’s mother, who perched nervously on the living room couch. “I want to thank you for letting me come, Mrs. Williams. I know this wasn’t easy.”

  She simply nodded, worrying the end of her sweater between her fingers.

  “Hey, kid.” Max bumped his fist against Simon’s. The gesture lacked Simon’s usual enthusiasm, but Simon also didn’t share his parents’ frowns, so that was something. “I hope it’s okay that I brought you a present.” The gift had been Alex’s idea, and since his boss was an acknowledged master of communication, Max had taken the advice.

  The package produced a small smile from Simon. “Whoa! These are sick.” He extracted a set of fingerless leather gloves—the kind preferred by wheelchair athletes. The flame motif was just an added bonus.

  Heather leaned toward Mrs. Williams. “‘Sick’ is good, just in case you were wondering.” Max was sure that would get a laugh, but it didn’t.

  “Try them on. I think I got the size right.” He wheeled closer to Simon and helped the boy wiggle his hands into the fierce-looking gloves. “The grip is outstanding. I got these from a wheelchair rugby team, and those guys are very picky about their gloves. They should let you crush your opponents at the Ping-Pong table.” He regretted that last remark. Simon wasn’t likely to play Ping-Pong if he didn’t go back to school. Maybe he’d ask Alex to help him find a way to get a table donated to the church youth group.

  “Thanks.” Simon flexed his fingers and then wobbled in his usual slow, precarious gait over to the chair in the corner of the room. The fact he could walk even short distances was going to make life so much easier for Simon. So many more things were possible for him—it doubled Max’s conviction to keep him out in the world. When Simon slipped into the chair and popped enough of a wheelie to make his mother groan, Max could only smile.

  Heather caught Max’s eye, nodding. It was time to do what he came to do.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I’d like to offer you an apology for my role in what happened. I had the chance to stop the business with Jason Kikowitz, and instead I let how much I like Simon cloud my better judgment.” He directed his next words to Simon. “I wanted to protect you, and I went about it in exactly the wrong way. And you paid for it.” He looked back at Simon’s parents. “You all paid for it. I was supposed to be showing Simon the right way to act, and I did the furthest thing from it.” The next part was hardest of all. “I’m sorry—really sorry—and I hope you’ll find your way to forgiving me someday.” Apologizing went against Max’s nature, but asking for forgiveness felt like ripping his skin off and sitting there like an open wound. The resulting silence in the room made Max want to squirm.

  “You were hugely stupid to do that.”

  “Simon!” Mrs. Williams chided her son’s pronouncement.

  “No, he’s right.” Max looked at Simon, newly amazed by this kid. “It was a supremely stupid thing to do, and I’m glad you see it that way. I wanted Kikowitz to know the guys and I had your back and that he couldn’t rough you up without consequences. Only ‘thugging’ him wasn’t the right way to do it. I let you down, I behaved like a two-year-old, and I’m sorry. But we do have your back, Simon. Know that.”

  “Thank goodness you don’t have to go back there.” Mr. Williams spoke for the first time. Simon’s whole body reacted to the statement. It didn’t take a counseling degree to read the body language in the room: Mr. Williams was set on Simon’s withdrawal, Simon was against it and Mrs. Williams was caught somewhere in the middle.

  “I want to go back there, Dad.” Simon popped another small wheelie with a little rock back and forth at the top. Max was proud Simon had mastered the trick, but found this a counterproductive moment for hotdogging.

  “How on earth can you want to go back there?” Mrs. Williams’s tone was filled with a mother’s worry.

  “It’s high school. Okay, it’s not perfect, but there’s lots of stuff I like. Things I can do. Friends I can spend time with.”

  Girls, Max added silently.

  “You have friends at youth group. And no one’s going to start fights with you there.”

  “I was hoping,” Heather offered in a careful tone, “that we might find some sort of compromise.”

  “With all due respect, Ms. Browning, we’ve already seen how little you can do to protect my son. I think it’s best we call this experiment to an end and count our blessings there was no real harm done.”

  “The real harm is that I get stuck at home when I could be at school.” Simon sounded as put out as any teen Max had ever heard. With an insolent glare straight at his dad, he added, “Like normal kids.”

  “Simon, I’m thirsty.” Heather stood up. “Can you show me where to get a glass of water in your kitchen?” Max guessed she was trying to salvage the conversation before Simon goaded his parents into an all-out battle. Max saw more of his own personality in Simon than he’d ever expected that first day the boy had wheeled meekly into the gym.

  The air grew thick as Heather and Simon left the room. This kind of diplomacy was so far out of Max’s skill set that he found himself throwing up a panicked Help! to heaven. He tried to meet Mrs. Williams’s eyes, but she looked down at her hands.

  Mr. Williams simply glared at him. “Simon has changed.” It was crystal clear where he placed that blame.

  “Simon is growing up. He’s trying to figure out who he is, and that means who he is apart from you. I was the same—actually, I was ten times worse—in high school.” When that met with no reception, Max plowed on. “I think the world of your son. He’s smart and so much tougher than he looks. There are so many things he could do, so much stuff out there for him to try and explore.”

  “It’s our job to protect Simon. Surely you can see that.” Mrs. Williams folded her hands in her lap.

  “I get that. I know I’m not a parent, and I’m not even two years out from my injury, but I do understand.” Max ran his hands down his face, straining for the right words. “But what I hope you understand is that life is filled with Kikowitzes. Guys who will single Simon—or even me—out as the weak target and pounce. Don’t you want Simon to know how to handle it? Don’t you want him to be able to go out into the world, go to college, have a job, travel, all that stuff?”

  “Of course we want Simon to have a rich and full life.”

  “Then maybe the best time and place for him to learn how to handle guys like Kikowitz is now, in school, where he’s got loads of sup
port and guidance.” Max leaned in, determined to put every ounce of persuasion he had into the moment. “He’s so, so smart. He’ll get knocked down—I know that—but Simon will get back up. Come on—he already has. He told you he wants to go back. You’ve gotta let him.”

  “You have a lot of nerve telling us what we have to do after the way you’ve acted.” Mr. Williams crossed his arms over his chest.

  The old Max would have pounced on that. Today, Max knew Brian Williams was absolutely correct. “You’re right. I’ve got no say in this. Except that the last months I’ve spent out in the real world, away from the nice supportive cocoon of rehab, have taught me how tough it is to get by. It’s hard. Some days it’s really hard.” Max shifted his gaze to Mrs. Williams, hoping the soft spot he had for Simon would come through in his words. “But I look at Simon and I see a kid who has what it’s going to take. He’s got so much more confidence than he did even a month ago. He’s got parents who would do anything for him. He’s got enough wit to defuse a situation when someone is a jerk, and soon enough he’ll have the experience to know how and when to use that wit instead of a right hook or a well-rammed footrest. Please don’t let my lack of good sense keep Simon from staying out there in the world.”

  “Your son stood up to a bully.” Heather’s voice came from the entryway. “That takes strength. I know he didn’t do it the way we all would have liked—”

  “You’ve all made that clear!” Simon shouted from the kitchen, proving the walls had ears.

  “But he stood up for himself nonetheless. He’s also bearing the consequences with a fair amount of maturity—”

  “I’m grounded for life—did you know that?” Simon’s dramatic declaration bellowed from the kitchen. Max tried not to grin. He’d been grounded any number of lifetimes.

  “With as much maturity as you can expect at fifteen.” Heather finally finished her thought. “I can’t say that about too many students these days.”