Read Online Maxwells Smile by Michele Hauf - Free Book Online

book, and now he looked toward the stack of DVDs on the table.
    “Go ahead,” she said. “I’m sure there’s a good movie in there somewhere.”
    “Mom.”
    Rachel sighed. “What, Maxwell?”
    “Are you really going to let Sam walk off like that?”
    She turned to look at her son. The forty-year-old man occupying his soul wagged a finger at her and shook his head in the most astonishing, and knowing, reprimand. “He’s upset, Maxwell.”
    “I know, but do you think he was taking care of his brother all alone? Without any parents? He’s never mentioned his parents, so they could be dead, too. You should go talk to him.”
    Right now that’s what she wanted more than anything. Sam had clearly been out of sorts. She hated to see anyone so torn. Her heart wept to know how awful he could be feeling.
    “Are you sure?”
    The credits for a children’s cartoon began to roll, and Maxwell’s attention switched to the television. “Go,” he muttered. “I can go into the doctor’s office on my own.”
    “No, you need a parent with you.”
    “Yeah, but it’s another twenty minutes for sure. And I know Lisa.”
    The receptionist smiled at them. She’d babysat Maxwell for two summers, and Rachel trusted her.
    “The parking lot is right outside the window,” Maxwell said. “I can see Sam’s truck. He hasn’t left yet. Go, Mom! I can wave to you when the doctor is ready.”
    She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Maxwell McHenry.”
    He gave her a little push. “Hurry up, or you might miss him.”

Chapter Seven
    Rachel spied Sam’s truck at the back of the parking lot. She had to smile. It was a wonder the vehicle even stayed together with all the rust patching over what she guessed had once been a forest-green body. Two sets of ladders were strapped across a side rack and Sam’s back was to her. He leaned his elbows on the truck bed.
    She swallowed, sensing this was not going to be easy for either of them. Rachel McHenry was the queen of keeping her emotions bottled up inside, so who was she to think she could understand another person’s pain? But an irresistible force deep within nudged her forward, if only to make contact with him, to touch him and let him know she did care.
    “Sam?”
    He lifted his head, but didn’t turn to acknowledge her. Rachel could feel his sadness float through the air in tangible waves.
    “You leave Maxwell alone inside?” he muttered.
    “He can see us from the waiting room window. The receptionist is a former babysitter, so he’s in good hands. He’s the one who said I shouldn’t ignore my urge to follow you out here.”
    Sam chuffed out an abbreviated, but lackluster, chuckle.
    She put her hands on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. He tried to shrug her off, but it was a futile attempt, so she maintained contact.
    “Can we talk?” she asked. “Have you spoken to anyone about your brother?”
    He shook his head, and she wasn’t sure what else to say or do.
    How many times, when she was a young, new mother, had she wished that people would ask if she needed help or wanted to talk about her struggles? Raising a child as a single mom in a small town was not easy, thanks to ignorance and gossip, but acceptance had finally come. Rachel didn’t know what to do for Sam, but at least she could offer.
    “I want to be here for you,” she said gently. “Whatever you need, just ask.”
    Sam turned and, before she could say another word, pulled her into his arms and nuzzled his head against her shoulder. It wasn’t so much a hug as an entreaty for understanding, for kindness, for a quiet connection. And she gave it willingly.
    He sniffed, and she wondered if he was crying. Didn’t matter. He was safe in her arms. Because she understood about needing to talk about something, yet not being able to put it into words. And she was pretty sure guys didn’t sit around talking about their feelings. Sam might never have had an opportunity to share his pain, his