Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (39 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

M
argot 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 support 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.”