a cool night in September, the night Greg drove her to the lake. Here, in this room with Michael, no, she wasn’t frightened.
His gaze remained unwavering, hazel-green pools in a face with defined features, but that hard edge that said he had lived through something difficult.
“I’m not afraid of you.” Because of his eyes. The mirror of the soul. And his were kind, belying the hardness of his features. “There might be times when I mind that you’re here, but that’s because it took me by surprise that you would want to work here.”
Another half smile. “That’s definitely honest.”
“You said…”
“I meant it. And thank you for the supplies you left behind. That first morning it was nice to wake up and find that you’d thought of the important stuff.”
“The coffee was good?” Coffee, a subject she could deal with.
“Yes, and the toaster pastries.” He looked away and she wondered what else had gone on in the last few days. “How did you guess?”
“About the pastries?” She shrugged and then smiled. “I didn’t. Pastor Banks told me that you had mentioned missing Pop-Tarts. I thought it was a little strange, but hey, who am I to judge?”
“Yes, I guess it was a strange thing, but when you have four years to think about what you really miss, you can think of a lot. I’ve spent the last three days eating at every fast-food joint in town.”
Too much, too soon. Maggie searched for a more neutral topic.
“How is your family?”
“We’ve had a good reunion. Mom even cooked.”
“Sounds like a good homecoming.”
His brows shot up at her comment and he half smiled. Okay, maybe not so great. Maybe he was just giving her the niceties, the details that would keep them on level footing as casual acquaintances. She was good with that.
“I can’t undo what happened.” He glanced toward the window as he made the statement that brought her front and center into his life. “My mom is always going to be afraid that I’ll fall again. Dad is always going to think that life can go right back to the way it was.”
“It might take time.” She knew all about regret. She knew how it felt to live with choices she couldn’t undo. Time would bring healing. Or so the saying went.
It was true, but she didn’t think it would make him feel any better to hear those words now, not yet. He was a grown man and he’d figure it out on his own.
“This morning my mom called. She wanted to know where I’d be today and what I’d be doing. I’m almost twenty-eight years old and I’m still giving an account for every minute of my day.”
“I’m sorry.” Another platitude that wouldn’t do him any good. The words had to mean something, or they were just words. Sorry. She thought it should be a verb, something a person put into action.
Her father had apologized to her mother twenty-seven years ago. He had followed the apology with the words that he didn’t want to be a dad. He had other plans. Sorry.
Her mother had apologized for forgetting school programs, and not picking Maggie up after Girl Scouts. She had apologized the day before she took the overdose that claimed her life.
The police officer had apologized as she’d sat in the back seat of his car on her way to her grandmother’s house. She had been fourteen and his apology hadn’t really made sense.
Greg had apologized when he’d dropped her off at Faith’s dorm the night he’d raped her. She could still see the accusations in his eyes and hear the callousness of his words. I’m sorry, but this is all your fault. You let me think you wanted this.
Michael stood. “I’m going to get a cup of that coffee. Do you need one?”
“No, I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. She was anything but. Her heart was tugging at her, telling her to be the one to give him a chance. He needed a friend, someone he could count on, and she could be that person.
Or could she?
“Michael, good to see you here.” The booming voice stopped Michael as he walked down the hall, seeking the kitchen.
He turned to face the bear of a man responsible for his being here. Robert Banks had started a prison ministry and from that ministry Michael had found faith, both in God and in himself.
“Pastor Banks, good morning.”
“Did you find Maggie?”
Maggie. Yes, he’d found her. And she was another person in his life whose trust he might never gain. It seemed like there were plenty of those people, and they were all waiting for him to prove himself.
Or were they waiting for him to fail? And he had failed before. In the year before he’d gone to prison he had tried, really tried, to get his life together. He hadn’t wanted to end up like people that he knew, the ones who lost everything to addiction.
“Yes, I found her in her office.”
“Good. She’s the one in charge of youth, and in a month or so, when you’re settled and feel like working, she’ll be the person to show you the ropes. Until then, get to know her, and let her show you what this after-school program is all about. It’s quite a ministry.”
“I’m looking forward to working with her. Dad wants me at least four days a week. I can do the office work and legwork for him as a paralegal. But being here, well, you know how I feel about getting plugged in.”
“That’s the key, Michael, get plugged in. First to church, and then with the youth. You’ll find that having people you can count on will make it easier when you face a struggle.”
A few minutes later Michael returned to Maggie’s closet size office. The cluttered room held a conglomeration of gray metal furniture that looked like hand-me-downs from a government office, or even the prison. He felt at home here.
Maggie stood at the window. He stepped quietly, not wanting to disturb her. When he scooted the chair across the tile floor, she jumped slightly and turned.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t.”
She returned to her chair. The softness of her tone matched the soft look in her eyes. Her hands trembled. He wanted to tell her he understood.
He had a feeling he didn’t understand. To give her space he got up, taking the place she’d vacated near the open window. No bars. He put his hand on the screen.
“You okay?” Her voice caught his attention and drew his gaze from the window to her face. His hand dropped to his side.
“Okay? Why?”
“You sighed.”
“I’m fine. Sometimes I wonder how
