Ten minutes later Maggie was knocking on Faith's door. It took a few minutes for Faith to answer. When she did, her hair looked like she'd styled it with a blender and her clothes looked like she'd pulled them out of the laundry basket. She didn't look at all happy.
"Did I wake you up?"
"Do you think?"
"It isn't late."
"I didn't get any sleep last night. I was making up for it tonight." She motioned Maggie inside. "What are you doing here?"
"Gran is with a friend."
"And you needed someone to cook for you?"
Maggie followed Faith into the kitchen, the cats chased after them. "I can cook for myself. And since you can't cook, we'd have to order something. I needed a cup of coffee and I knew you'd have some."
"I have tea."
"Traitor."
She sat at the table and Faith settled across from her. The two of them sat in silence as Faith's "little darlings" curled around their legs, Persian kitty tails twitching.
"So?" Faith finally said, hiding a yawn behind her hand.
"My dad called a few days ago."
Faith's eyes widened and her hand came down. "He called. Just like that? And you're just now getting around to telling me?"
"It took me a few days to get a grip on my emotions. And it wasn't 'just like that.' He didn't suddenly decide to call. He had a little help."
"A little help?" Faith walked into the kitchen and filled up the teakettle. "From above?"
"Michael found him and gave him my number." She fiddled with a stack of papers. "It isn't like we couldn't have found each other sooner. He knows where I live."
"So Michael called him. You mean, the Michael who is lumped into that category of men that you think you can't trust?" Her eyes lit up. "How sweet is that?"
"I think it was more interfering than sweet."
Faith rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh, please. Maggie, Greg was a rat. Your dad was a fink. Do not punish every other man in your life for their mistakes."
"Yeah, I know. And you're right, it was sweet. But he also knows about Greg." She pulled a tissue from the box on the table, not planning on crying, but just in case it happened.
"How?"
"He overheard a conversation I had with Pastor Banks."
"Nosy, isn't he?"
"I guess. But what do I do now? He knows all of my secrets. He knows about Greg. He found my dad. He cares about the kids at church." She fiddled with the tissue, wrapping it around her finger. "The only thing he probably doesn't know about is my mother."
"What is it that you're afraid of? Are you afraid you'll care too much and he'll let you down? Are you worried about the kids at church? I guess I don't get it. You've met a nice guy and he has done some very sweet things."
What was she afraid of? Maggie thought it was possible that everything that Faith had said could be on the list. At the top of the list was trust. What if she trusted him and he let her down?
"When does the floor fall out? When does he expose his true self?"
"And leave you disillusioned and brokenhearted?"
"I'm not sure if the brokenhearted thing is possible." She hugged the cat that had crawled into her lap. "He doesn't need me, Faith."
"He's a strong guy and he doesn't need to be fixed."
"I hate it when you're right." She stood and let the cat drop gently to the ground. "I should be getting home. Gran will call and she'll be worried."
"Call and tell her that you're here. Why don't you spend the night?"
Her phone rang. She shot Faith a look as she raised it to her ear. Like Faith had anything to do with it ringing.
"Maggie, it's me." Michael hesitated. "Are you at home?"
"No, I'm at Faith's." She slid her friend a look, hoping to silence any outbursts she might make.
"Good. I wanted to make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine." She ignored Faith's knowing look. "Thank you for calling."
"I've been thinking about what you said." He spoke in a rush that stopped her from hanging up. "You said I'm a friend. I want you to know how much that means to me."
She nodded her head but the sob in her throat wouldn't let her answer. Biting her lip, she inhaled and tried to control the sting of tears.
"Maggie, if you're not okay, I could come over." His voice was strong, confident, reminding her that he was a man who could not only take care of himself but the people around him.
"No, don't come over."
"Promise you'll call if you need anything?" A short pause followed. "Even if you doubt me, remember, I'm always a phone call away. I have to go now."
"Michael?" A few tears rolled down her cheeks. She dashed them away with the back of her hand, but more slid down to replace them. Stupid hormones, that was all it was, nothing more. She needed some chocolate and then everything would be okay again.
She closed her phone and dropped it into her purse, for a few seconds avoiding Faith and the questions she would ask. She sat again. When she looked up, Faith was waiting and obviously trying not to be too nosy.
"He wanted to check on me." Maggie explained as she reached for a doughnut from the box Faith had pushed toward her.
"Sweet."
"Is that all you're going to say?"
Faith shrugged. "I'm not sure what else to say. Maybe I should tell you to be careful."
Maggie thought about it, and then she decided that it might be too late for warnings. Her heart was involved. To what extent, she wasn't sure.
The house sat on the corner of a street that Michael didn't care for. He'd been here before, but not for a long, long time. He hadn't planned on coming tonight, but the phone call that came in the middle of the conversation with Maggie changed his plans. Cars were parked in the front yard, people milled around, going in and out the open front door.
He parked a few houses down and walked up to the party. A few people spotted him, recognizing him and shouting that he was back. He wasn't, but he would let them think what they wanted.
A crowd of guys stood in the front door. He shoved past them, bumping past those who didn't seem to know where they were or who was around them. The odor of the place burned his nostrils and gagged him.
He spotted Vince in a corner talking to people that Michael knew were connected. He pulled out his phone, held it to his ear and before he closed it, he snapped two pictures. He was walking through the house in search of Katherine when Vince walked up behind him.
"What are you doing here?"
Michael turned, fixing a smile on his face. "Visiting you."
"That's dangerous, Mike. You aren't really welcome here."
"I'm paying my debt."
"I've got a package you can deliver."
"I'll have to think about that."
"Why are you really here?" Vince's greasy hair fell forward, his gray eyes, glassy and red, seemed to have problems focusing. Hard to believe he had once been an honor student with a promising future. "Are you looking for a fix?"
"You need help, Vince." Michael hadn't planned those words. He glanced over Vince's shoulder and searched the crowd. "And I'm not here for any real reason, except that old habits die hard."
Vince pushed him back against the wall. His arms were thin, weak. Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around with no trouble. He had Vince pinned when he saw her standing in a corner. "I just saw the reason I came."
"Katherine." He shouted her name above the din. She looked his way, her eyes widening in fear, and then she was gone.
"I helped her out of that joint you took her to." Vince laughed and the laughter turned to a rasping cough.
"I heard. And I'm not going to let you get away with this." He shoved Vince away and took off out the back door.
He didn't find her. But that night the faces he'd seen haunted him. Kids with hollow eyes, gray skin and hopelessness etched into their features. Kids who didn't stand a chance if someone didn't do something to help them.
And Katherine had worn a similar look.
He picked up the phone and called his new sponsor for a reality check. If he wanted to be someone that Maggie could trust, he had to learn to trust himself.
Michael had asked her to trust him. Maggie wanted to, but could she? Especially when he had disappeared after church the previous day, with no goodbye and no explanation for his hasty departure.
The shouts of kids flying kites on the lawn carried through the open office window. Her gaze swung to the clock on the paneled wall. Almost three-thirty. The telephone rang and without taking her gaze off the book in front of her, she reached to answer the insistent ringing.
"Is your grandmother okay?" The voice, slurring and male, sent a chill up her spine. Maggie's hands numbed as she gripped the phone tighter.
"Who is this?"
"Have you checked on her today?" The caller laughed.
Maggie slammed the phone back onto its cradle. Shaking and cold, she leaned forward, burying her head in her hands. The door to her office opened and Pastor Banks stepped into the room.
"Didn't you hear me knock?"
Maggie looked up. "No, I'm sorry."
"What happened? Are you okay?"
She nodded and then shook her head. "I don't know. I need to go home and check on my grandmother."
"Is she sick?" Pastor Banks handed her the cup of ice water on the edge of her desk. "Here, take a drink and tell me what's going on."
Maggie sipped her water. "Someone called. They asked me if my grandmother was okay."
"You don't know who it was?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. No, I didn't recognize the voice. He sounded drunk."
Pastor Banks picked up her phone and dialed. "Betty. I just thought I'd call and say hi. How have you been?"
Maggie listened to the conversation. Pastor Banks paced the room, stopping at the window. He held the phone with his shoulder and pulled the curtain back to look out. When he turned around, he smiled.
"Sure, I'll tell her. Talk to you later." He set the phone down on Maggie's desk. "She's fine. She wanted to make sure you remembered that she wouldn't be home tonight. She's quilting with friends."
"I just don't understand what's happening."
"Someone's trying to scare you." Pastor Banks sat across from her desk, swiveling in the chair. "Any idea who?"
"The only one I can think of would be Chance's dad. Or maybe whoever has been calling— "
"What's going on?"
Maggie looked up, smiling at Michael, but the gesture not feeling quite right. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Pastor Banks motioned toward the other empty chair. Michael ignored the offer and instead stood near the window, arms crossed over his chest.
"Did something happen?"
"Someone called and asked if Maggie's grandmother was okay." Pastor Banks tilted his head to one side and scratched at the beard he was trying to grow.
Michael sat, his intense eyes pinning Maggie. She looked away, concentrating on the condensation the glass of ice water had left on her desk. She brushed the moisture off the wood. Michael moved the cup.
"Maggie?"
"It scared me, but I'm fine now." She looked up, forcing a smile that she didn't feel.
Part of her wanted to let herself need Michael. The other part, the grown-up part, wanted to sit here and show the world that she didn't need anyone. Hadn't she done a good job of taking care of herself, and her grandmother? She could handle this problem, too.
"I need to go." Michael stood, his usual smile replaced by a concerned frown. "I'll be back in time to help you with the kids. I promise."
Maggie started to ask him where he was going, but he didn't give her a chance. Without a backward glance, he was gone, the door closing with a click of finality as he walked out. Maggie lifted the empty glass and twirled the ice.
"I don't think we should let him go." Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she closed her eyes for a few seconds of much needed composure time.
"He's a grown man, Maggie. And I think this is something he has to take care of."
"This? I don't even know what
this
is." She piled up the paperwork on her desk, straightened the edges and then picked up the stack and shoved it in a desk drawer. "I have a group of kids waiting to plant flowers."
"Maggie."
Pastor Banks followed her to the door. She turned, positive she didn't want to hear his advice at this point. The fatherly look he gave her pushed away her resolve to be independent.
"Yes?"
"Give Michael a chance. He has to learn to believe in himself, and that will be easier if he has people who believe in him."
"I'm helping him in every way I can."
"I didn't say help him. I said believe in him."
She didn't see the difference. Or maybe she did, but she didn't want to stop and think about word definitions right now. She wanted to ignore the growing turmoil she felt and how it seemed connected to Michael Carson.
What had happened to her nice, quiet life? The answer was simple: Michael Carson had invaded.
"I'm really trying."
"I know you are. Remember that not one of us is perfect, and a person fighting an addiction has a serious battle to fight." He closed his eyes for a brief moment, opened them and smiled. "I guess I don't have to tell you that."
"No, you don't. But maybe I needed to be reminded. But while we're trusting him, he needs to do some trusting of his own. He needs to know that he can talk to us."
"I think he's probably trying. And remember, right now we're just speculating. We're not sure what's going on, so we're drawing conclusions on our own."
"I hope you're right."
Pastor Banks put an arm around her shoulder for a loose hug and then he walked away. Maggie walked out the back door, plastering on a smile for the benefit of the half-dozen teens who were waiting for her.
It would have been easier if she hadn't been remembering her mom walking out the door, promising everything would be okay and she was really going to quit using.
M
ichael walked into the church at nine o'clock— hours after the kids had left for the day. He knew Maggie was still here, her car was in the parking lot and a light glowed from her office window.