Read Online Trusting Him by Brenda Minton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Minton
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What did he say when his presence wasn't wanted. And worse than that, when his presence was probably the reason for the entire situation?
"I'm going to talk to the police." He started to walk off.
"Michael, would you ask them if I can leave? Gran is going to be worried."
"I'll ask."
The officer that he approached recognized him, but not in a way that looked welcoming. "Michael Carson, I didn't expect to see you here."
"This has something to do with me, I just don't know what."
Officer Wayne nodded. "Gotcha, we'll keep that in mind. But now I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We don't need you at a crime scene. We've got enough civilian bystanders lurking around."
"Fine." He tried to let that slide off. "She wants to know if she can leave."
"Sure, take her home. She a friend of yours?"
"I help out here, working with the teens."
"Strange, I never figured that one." He looked cynical. "She can go. Tell her we might need to talk to her again."
"I'll let her know."
Pastor Banks was sitting next to Maggie when Michael walked back to join her. They both glanced his way. He didn't want to know what they were thinking or how many doubts they were having about him. He could imagine.
"The cop told me to take you home."
"I can drive myself."
"Okay, drive yourself and I'll follow you." He tensed, ready for a fight and unwilling to lose.
"Let him follow you, Maggie." Pastor Banks stood. "Someone saw a guy running away from the church. They said it looked like a kid."
Michael shot Maggie a look. She glanced away, but not before he saw that flash in her eyes. They were both thinking the same thing. The boy, Curt, from the youth group. He was new, Maggie had revealed, and had only been in the area for a few weeks.
"Fine, follow me." She took the hug that Pastor Banks gave when she stood. "I'll see you at church on Sunday."
"If you need to stay home…" he offered.
"I don't need to stay home, but thank you."
Michael followed her to the parking lot. At her car they stopped. "Maggie, I'm sorry about…us, earlier. We have to work together. I really don't want there to be a problem between us."
"There isn't a problem."
But he thought maybe there was. Maybe that was for the best, for both of them.
* * *
Saturday, a week after the prowler and the fiasco of his leaving the art gallery, Michael was summoned to his parents' house for a welcome home party. They had waited several weeks for this, his mother had said, and it couldn't be put off any longer. She wanted the community to know that she was proud of her son.
Proud? Or maybe ignoring the obvious, that he was no longer welcome in their circle of acquaintances? He wouldn't be the one to tell his parents. He had already broken their hearts once.
He pulled up in front of the house on the motorcycle he'd bought a few days ago. The driveway and street were lined with cars. Dozens of people had turned out to welcome him. Or maybe they just wanted to see the golden boy gone bad. Didn't they have enough memories of him as the bad Carson? He knew that at least half of these people had witnessed his addiction in action, barging into dinner parties high on meth and other inappropriate party tricks.
He had apologized to his parents for those days, but that didn't lessen his grief for the pain he had caused them and for the years he had lost that couldn't be regained.
As much as he didn't want to hurt his mother, he knew he couldn't go in and face those people. Not yet. He didn't want to spend an evening avoiding their curious looks. He didn't want to overhear their whispered conversations.
He wanted to escape. He wanted to go somewhere quiet, without crowds of people who had no interest in his life or who he was now. These people didn't care about the changes he'd made or what God had done for him.
He started to pull away and then he saw his brother walk out the side door of the garage. Noah waved and then pushed his too long hair back from his face as he trotted down the
"I'm going to talk to the police." He started to walk off.
"Michael, would you ask them if I can leave? Gran is going to be worried."
"I'll ask."
The officer that he approached recognized him, but not in a way that looked welcoming. "Michael Carson, I didn't expect to see you here."
"This has something to do with me, I just don't know what."
Officer Wayne nodded. "Gotcha, we'll keep that in mind. But now I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We don't need you at a crime scene. We've got enough civilian bystanders lurking around."
"Fine." He tried to let that slide off. "She wants to know if she can leave."
"Sure, take her home. She a friend of yours?"
"I help out here, working with the teens."
"Strange, I never figured that one." He looked cynical. "She can go. Tell her we might need to talk to her again."
"I'll let her know."
Pastor Banks was sitting next to Maggie when Michael walked back to join her. They both glanced his way. He didn't want to know what they were thinking or how many doubts they were having about him. He could imagine.
"The cop told me to take you home."
"I can drive myself."
"Okay, drive yourself and I'll follow you." He tensed, ready for a fight and unwilling to lose.
"Let him follow you, Maggie." Pastor Banks stood. "Someone saw a guy running away from the church. They said it looked like a kid."
Michael shot Maggie a look. She glanced away, but not before he saw that flash in her eyes. They were both thinking the same thing. The boy, Curt, from the youth group. He was new, Maggie had revealed, and had only been in the area for a few weeks.
"Fine, follow me." She took the hug that Pastor Banks gave when she stood. "I'll see you at church on Sunday."
"If you need to stay home…" he offered.
"I don't need to stay home, but thank you."
Michael followed her to the parking lot. At her car they stopped. "Maggie, I'm sorry about…us, earlier. We have to work together. I really don't want there to be a problem between us."
"There isn't a problem."
But he thought maybe there was. Maybe that was for the best, for both of them.
* * *
Saturday, a week after the prowler and the fiasco of his leaving the art gallery, Michael was summoned to his parents' house for a welcome home party. They had waited several weeks for this, his mother had said, and it couldn't be put off any longer. She wanted the community to know that she was proud of her son.
Proud? Or maybe ignoring the obvious, that he was no longer welcome in their circle of acquaintances? He wouldn't be the one to tell his parents. He had already broken their hearts once.
He pulled up in front of the house on the motorcycle he'd bought a few days ago. The driveway and street were lined with cars. Dozens of people had turned out to welcome him. Or maybe they just wanted to see the golden boy gone bad. Didn't they have enough memories of him as the bad Carson? He knew that at least half of these people had witnessed his addiction in action, barging into dinner parties high on meth and other inappropriate party tricks.
He had apologized to his parents for those days, but that didn't lessen his grief for the pain he had caused them and for the years he had lost that couldn't be regained.
As much as he didn't want to hurt his mother, he knew he couldn't go in and face those people. Not yet. He didn't want to spend an evening avoiding their curious looks. He didn't want to overhear their whispered conversations.
He wanted to escape. He wanted to go somewhere quiet, without crowds of people who had no interest in his life or who he was now. These people didn't care about the changes he'd made or what God had done for him.
He started to pull away and then he saw his brother walk out the side door of the garage. Noah waved and then pushed his too long hair back from his face as he trotted down the
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