Allie Pleiter - A Heart to Heal

She didn’t seem capable of pulling off a mean face. “Who says I need backup?”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know your voice mail is probably chock-full of worried calls from Brian Williams today. Come on—I saw that one coming a mile off. Has he asked you to keep me away from his precious impressionable son yet?”

He’d nailed it; he could see it in her eyes. “Do you have to ride the man so hard? He cares about his son.”

He wheeled farther into her office. She’d moved her guest chair to the side to accommodate his chair. That settled somewhere soft in the back of his brain. “It’s been my experience that there’s a very thin line between care and smother. Especially when you’re fifteen. Did you see Simon’s eyes when his father pulled up after the basketball game? Did you hear how even the school ramp made Pops nervous?”

Heather leaned one elbow on her desk. “How long, exactly, has it been since you were fifteen?”

He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a number. “A while.”

“Well, then, think back a while and remember that every student his age—disability or not—is mortified by everything their parents do. It’s practically rule number one in the high schooler’s handbook.”

“Hey, you just made a joke.” He angled himself around to dig a hand into the bag he kept attached to the back of his chair.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?” Heather was just so much fun to tick off, Max suspected he was going to get in trouble here far faster than his usual rate—which was pretty fast as it was.

“Well—” he found what he was looking for and pulled it out of the bag “—it just makes it easier to give you this.” Scooting up to her desk, he planted a bright pink rubber duck made to look like a flamingo on top of her files. It made a ridiculous squeaking sound as he did so, its little black rubber sunglasses squishing in on its hooked flamingo beak before inflating back into shape. Normally he wasn’t the gift type—barely remembering birthdays and such—but this had caught his eye in the hospital gift shop. The tone of her voice mail had made it clear Brian Williams had clouded up and rained all over her morning, and he’d wanted to cheer her up. “It’s a flamingo rubber duck, which is kind of a joke when you think about it.” When she looked genuinely startled, he added, “For your collection. And for not getting here until now.”

She reached for it, and he could see she was holding back a smile. “You know, a phone call to let me know your time frame would have been all I needed.” Her words were all you shouldn’t have but her eyes were I love it. How did someone so transparent make any headway with predators like teenagers?

She placed the flamingo-duck right next to the one he’d toyed with at their first meeting. “Yes, Mr. Williams expressed his concern.”

“Is that teacher-speak for he chewed my ear off?”

“Let’s just say I think it will take more than rubber waterfowl to bring Mr. Williams around. He was curious...suspicious, actually, that you clearly did not include him in your sailing invitation. That, more than any physical danger, is what kept Simon off your boat Saturday.”

Max didn’t like where this was heading. “He’s jealous?”

“Could you be serious for one minute here? Schools have to tread carefully where and how we let adults alone with students. And there are really good reasons—really awful ones, actually—why those rules are in place. He’s in the right here, Max. I should have never okayed that boat outing.”

Max had no patience for this kind of red-tape stupidity. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You were going along. Brian Williams knows who I am. He works with my sister. I’m not some creep off the train from the big bad city.”

Heather sat back in her chair. “Do you want to help Simon or not?”

“Yes!” He didn’t even have to think about the answer. Simon’s eyes had been haunting him all weekend. He was like a walking poster child for everything Adventure Access was about—giving people with disabilities the chance to be regular people and have the kinds of fun that everyone craved. Max didn’t just want to help Simon; some part of him needed to help the little guy.

That clearly wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Wow, did she really think he’d walk away just because Daddy got hot under the collar? That bugged him more than Williams’s unfounded suspicions.

“Then we’ve got to work within the boundaries here. Simon’s dad sees him as vulnerable, and he’s not all wrong. This is hard for any parent, much less one with as much to worry about as Brian Williams has on his plate.”

She was right, of course. Some part of him recognized that. He’d gone in full blast, letting Williams’s perfectly natural responses get under his skin because of how much he hated being coddled. And while she was eons better now, hadn’t his own mother been ten times worse than Brian Williams when he was first injured? “Yeah.” He owed her at least that much of an acknowledgment.

“If it helps, I think he really should go out on your boat. It’s a beautiful boat, and it’s fascinating to watch how it works and you work on it. It’s just not the right starting point. Basketball? Now, that was a good first step for a lot of reasons. Can we think of something else like that? Something that can take place here on school property?”

“Williams is going to supervise, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Her eyes flicked down at the admission. “He’s asked to be present.” She looked up. “Think you can play nice here?”

Normally, Max’s reply to a request like that would have been a resounding Not on your life! Only it was as if Simon’s pleading eyes watched him even though the kid wasn’t even in the room. “How are you at Ping-Pong?”

That smile could have made him buy twelve flamingo-ducks in rainbow colors. “I happen to be pretty good. Thursday afternoon?”

He could move his marketing-team meeting. It’d mean he would have to get up an hour earlier than normal—something he only did in the most dire circumstances—but he’d do it. “Let me make a few calls.”

Chapter Five

“Got ’em!”

Heather watched in amazement Thursday afternoon as Simon edged his chair in front of his father to nail the match’s winning shot. In the last half of the game, Simon had seemed to come alive right before her eyes, showing a determination and enthusiasm she’d not ever seen from him. It was the first time she could use the phrase young man to describe Simon. Lots of boys made the transition from “boy” to “young man” in their first year of high school, but she’d never seen the transformation happen quite so dramatically.

Max had noticed the change, as well; she could tell by the way he caught her eye in between volleys or when Simon made a particularly spectacular shot. Simon wasn’t the only one making surprising changes right in front of her. Max had gone out of his way to “play nice” with Brian Williams. Right down to the nondescript polo shirt instead of his usual T-shirt bearing a wild message. She’d spent the first game trying not to notice what the light blue color did for Max’s eyes. JJ had told her Max had rolled up in a tux for her wedding, and suddenly she wanted to see the pictures of what that looked like. Max Jones, for all his edgy attire, cleaned up very nice.

“Hey, Dad, watch this!”

Heather gasped as Simon made an attempt to pop one of the wild wheelies Max was known for—and succeeded only in toppling himself out of the chair. Mr. Williams let out a “Don’t do that!” and flew out of his own chair—for everyone had to play in chairs again to even the odds—grabbing Simon’s arm before Heather even had a chance to blink.