A Heart to Heal. Allie Pleiter
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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.”
“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.
“I’m fine!” Simon declared, pulling his arm out of his father’s grasp. The air in the gym suddenly thickened. Heather didn’t know quite what to do.
Max did. In a matter of seconds, Max spun over next to Simon and proceeded to catapult himself out of his own chair. Now there were two people on the ground, with Heather and Mr. Williams standing in shock beside them.
“Didn’t that hurt?” Simon asked, as stunned as anyone else in the room.
“Not if I can’t feel anything below my waist. Of course, I wouldn’t advise this as a general practice, but it’s easier to show you how to get up than to sit there and explain it.”
“I can help him get up,” Mr. Williams interjected, reaching between Max and Simon.
“No, Dad,” Simon protested. “Let me see how Max does this.”
Mr. Williams looked ready to object, but Heather walked over and gently touched his elbow. “Let him try,” she whispered, seeing the panic in the father’s eyes. “You can step in if he gets in trouble.”
“What do I do?” Simon was as cool as a cucumber and obviously not a bit hurt.
“First—” Max winked “—you find somewhere else for the people around you to look because this isn’t pretty. Point out a flower or a puppy or something.”
Simon managed a wry grin. “They’re staring right at us.”
“Well.” Max elbowed Simon as if being sprawled out on the gym floor were all part of the plan. “Think of something.”
Simon pointed clear across the gym. “Hey, Dad, could you go get the Ping-Pong ball where it landed over in the corner?”
Mr. Williams did not look as if he cared for this one bit. Heather offered him an encouraging smile, eyebrows raised in a silent invitation to just play along.
The pause before Mr. Williams said, “Sure, son,” felt excruciating. He pinched the bridge of his nose