Love Lifted Me Read online

  “Coach.” Calvin clapped his hand to his chest. “You think I don’t appreciate my homeboys?”

  “Just keep it in mind.” Max took a few more minutes to encourage the rest of the players in the huddle. He’d practiced what he wanted to say next—his good-bye speech—but emotion gummed up his words. “This is the last day of camp because it’s my last day at the ranch.”

  He exhaled, fighting the tears behind his eyes. Why was this moment so hard? Something had happened in his heart when he started working with these Colby, Texas, teens. They were good kids, but adrift, looking for a safe place to land.

  “I’m going to miss y’all. Thanks for coming. You’ve . . . you’ve impacted me.” Max patted his hand over his heart.

  Every afternoon for six weeks, a Randall County rec center bus drove the kids to the ranch. Forty minutes out, forty minutes back. Not one boy ever missed a day.

  The bus driver said he’d never seen kids stay so committed to a program.

  Maybe, Max decided, it was because he needed them as much as they needed him.

  Axel Crowder, the man who ran the Outpost Rehab Ranch, suggested the camp one evening after he and Max had talked football, and since Max had hours in his day to fill, he agreed. Besides, it was football. Say no more.

  He watched his team file onto the bus, a missing-them sensation traveling across his chest. When the last one got on, Calvin hopped off.

  “Got something on your mind, Calvin?” Max started gathering the gear.

  “So, no more ball, Coach?” Calvin said. “They’re letting you out of this nut farm?”

  “It’s risky, but they have to cut me from the herd.” After three months and a lot of face-to-the-ground time, Max knew he had to face Jade and the dirge he’d left playing in her heart. “I miss my wife and my son.” He stuffed footballs into a duffel bag.

  “You got a kid? No fooling.” Calvin picked up a ball and tossed it between his hands. The bus driver tooted the horn, but he waved it off.

  “He’s almost two.” Max didn’t admit he’d only held his son once in his young life before March rolled around. Then all the buried lies surfaced when Rice McClure died.

  “Think he’ll play football?”

  “If he has any talent. If he wants to play.”

  “I got talent for it.”

  Max tossed the duffel into the bed of the Outpost pickup. “About as much as any kid I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really? Who’ve you seen? Ain’t you a lawyer or something?”

  “Yeah, I’m a lawyer, but I played in high school, a year in college. Used to coach youth league, sort of what we did here this summer.”

  “I thought so, I thought so. Seemed you knew what you was doing.”

  The bus beeped. “Calvin, the bus is leaving.” The driver inched forward.

  Calvin gazed over his shoulder but didn’t flinch. “Our football here stinks. Can’t keep a coach. Five in six years.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The Outpost was just on the edge of Colby, Texas, a panhandle city that once reveled in state football championships. But in the last decade, something fierce went wrong with Colby High football and no one knew how to fix it. “I hear the coaches quit or get fired.”

  “Yep. The more we lose, Coach, the worse the coaches. Who wants a job with the Colby Warriors? It’ll kill a guy’s career.” Calvin squinted at Max. “My brother got recruited to Texas from here. Got his college paid for, but there ain’t no chance for me.”

  “I’m sorry, Calvin. What about academics?”

  He laughed, pressing his fist to his lips. “I can run. That’s what I do. Run and catch footballs. I got grades that’ll get me in, but nothing so high and mighty as a academic scholarship.” At sixteen, the muscled, quick Calvin stood eye to eye with Max, caught somewhere between boyhood and the man he was to become. “Scouts don’t even bother coming our way these days. Why should they? All the good players transfer to Amarillo or Canyon.”

  “Why don’t you?” Max crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the truck. From his position he could see the rec center bus inching down the winding Outpost driveway.

  “Don’t got no kin or ‘cousin’ in those districts whose address I can use.” Calvin air-quoted “cousin” and backed away. “Best go catch my bus.”

  Calvin cut across the field, sprinting low, using his arms and legs to pump up speed. He caught the bus just as it turned onto the highway toward town. Max grinned, shaking his head. Incredible.

  Then he gathered the pylons and flags, broke down the water table, and loaded up the truck. He’d come to love this place—the space, the miles of blue sky unfurling overhead, the fragrance of a storm rolling in off the prairie.

  Fifteen men had started the program the first of April with Max. Men like him with wealth and privilege. Athletes, lawyers, CEOs, entertainment professionals, and one senator. A month later, ten remained. By the end of May, Max was one of six.

  Climbing in behind the Dodge’s wheel, Max fired up the old beast, as Axel called it, and followed a rutted path to the Big House—a high and wide twostory ranch nestled between barns and bunkhouses.

  He arrived at the Outpost pain-pill addicted, gritted up, ready to work, primed to face his weaknesses. He wanted to understand why he used and why he slept with another woman a week before marrying the love of his life.

  He’d prepared for anything and everything Axel Crowder might throw at him. Except one. The love and mercy of Jesus.

  Max gunned the gas, firing the truck across the pasture. Yeah, how did a man respond to mercy and grace when he knew in his deepest parts he deserved none of it?

  Parking alongside the house, he unloaded the gear into the shed, a fresh gust of manure hitting his nose. He was going to miss that smell.

  He locked the shed and started for the house, his heart fixed on a shower before dinner, when he spotted Axel riding the corral rails. The lanky ponytailed cowboy-counselor waved him over.

  That’s how Axel did most of his counseling—sitting on the rail. Listening was his specialty, next to pulling scripture to combat a man’s sorrows.

  Max hopped up next to him, hooking his heels on the middle rung, gazing toward the meadow where the cattle roamed.

  “Last night,” Axel said.

  “Last night.” Max looked east when a truck rumbled up the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. A blue Suburban floating on a cloud of white dust. “But I’m ready.”

  “Sure you are. Never seen a fellow work so hard. You got a lot of Texas sun on your Tennessee shoulders, Max. I’m proud. You cowboyed up. God’s got good things for you.” Axel jutted out his chin, watching the Suburban, waving when the driver and another man hopped out. “Go on inside,” Axel called to them. “I’ll be along. See what Cook’s set out.”

  Speaking of Cook, and dinner, Max’s stomach rolled with a bass rumble.

  “You’ll do all right if you lean into Him.”

  “He can have it all.”

  “How you think Jade’s doing in all of this?”

  Max couldn’t calculate the hours he and Axel had sat on the rail talking about Jade, marriage, and the responsibilities of love.

  “She’s been doing a lot of her own counseling and praying. She sounds good. Dubious. Don’t blame her but I think—” What? What did he think? That he’d go home tomorrow and be welcomed in her heart and in her bed?

  No, the Outpost was prep. The real work would begin when he went home and started winning back his wife after knifing her with his finely honed selfishness.

  “Carry on the way you have been. Ain’t nothing special about the ranch other than outside distractions. Prayer works here. Prayer works at home. Deal with your marriage and your mistakes like you done all spring. Humble, facedown, bathed in prayer.”

  Axel was devoted to prayer, and Max was confident that’s why the ground shook beneath the man’s feet. Prayer, he said, fueled the Big Ls. The Lord, love, and life.

  “I’m sure you’re looking f
orward to lawyering again.”

  Max peeked at his mentor. He was fishing. “You want to ask me a question?”

  Axel made a face, meshing his lips toward his lean nose. “Just checking in with you. I’m your counselor, you know. How are those back pains?”

  “Not a one since that one night. Two months now. Pain-free, med-free.” When the wind blew east, Max stared toward the dimming horizon. He’d be winging toward that thin black line tomorrow. “I’m going to miss this place, the boys, and our talks, but I have a gorgeous, kind, patient wife at home and a son to raise. God help us glue all the broken pieces together.”

  “He didn’t bring you this far without a plan, Max. He’ll not let you down. Just keep that ‘Yes’ in your heart.”

  “Question is, yes to what?” Max said. “Taking over the family’s seventy-five-year-old firm? Benson Law is a great tradition. One of the best firms in the country. But, I don’t know, doesn’t feel like me anymore. It doesn’t feel as important.”

  “The ranch has a way of fixing a man’s priorities.” Axel hopped off the rail, his boots rustling up a bit of dust. “Come on.” He started for the house. “I got a couple of fellas from town waiting to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me?” Max hopped down, suspicious now of the blue Suburban. Who’d want to talk to him? He didn’t know anyone from town. He only went to Colby once a week to check e-mail and call Jade. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about, Ax?”

  “Not particularly.” Axel shoved through the short, white gate. Dirt and pebbles crunched under his feet. He took the porch steps with a long, angular leap. “I’ll let the boys speak for themselves.”

  Three

  “Lillabeth.” Jade exited the Blue Umbrella’s office, scanning her iPad calendar. She couldn’t find the date the reporter and photographer were scheduled to come. “Do you remember when Southern Life is supposed to be here? I’m telling you, these electronic things do not work for me. I need sticky notes. Why fix what’s not broke?”

  “I’ll buy you a case of them.”

  Definitely not Lillabeth’s voice. Jade looked up, bobbling her iPad. “Max.” He stood in the golden circle of sun falling through the shop’s main window.

  “Hey, Jade.”

  “Y-you’re here.” His presence stole her breath. Forever handsome, Max stood before her lean and tan, poured into a pair of jeans. Leather boots replaced his leather loafers. The breadth of his chest filled the white oxford and tapered to his trim waist.

  Locks of his silky dark hair curved down his neck, into his collar, and a light brown beard barely dusted his cheeks.

  “You look good, Jade.” He dropped his duffel to the floor, the sound covering the timidity in his voice.

  “So do you.” Jade cradled her iPad against her chest. “Did you just get here?

  I didn’t realize—”

  “I came straight from the airport.” Max motioned the bag by his foot. “I wanted to see you. If you’re busy, we can catch up later.” He bent for his duffel.

  “No, no, I’m not busy. Just trying to remember when Southern Life will be here.”

  “The sixteenth? Didn’t you mention it on our last call?”

  “Right, I did. The sixteenth.” She scanned her iPad calendar. Sure enough.

  “Right in front of me.”

  “Max!” Lillabeth breezed in from the storeroom. “You’re back.” She embraced him freely, openly. The way Jade wanted to but couldn’t because her wounded heart refused to yield. “Great hair. You look like a real cowboy.”

  Great hair, great face, gorgeous cowboy. But liar and betrayer. Don’t forget those, Lillabeth. Jade had trusted before. She’d believed Daddy when he said he’d be there for her.

  “Jade, you called?” Lillabeth said.

  “I—what? Oh yeah, right.” Her heart beat so fast. “I couldn’t find the date of the Southern Life shoot.” Why was the shop so hot? Perspiration sprinkled the back of Jade’s neck.

  “July sixteenth?”

  “Yep.” Jade held up her iPad. “Max remembered.”

  Lillabeth slapped him a high five. “And he wasn’t even here when you set it up. Keep him around, Jade. Aaron never remembers dates or details.”

  “Well, he is fighting a war.” Lillabeth’s husband flew F-18s and was deployed to the Middle East.

  The bells on the shop door clanged as a customer entered. Lillabeth moved to assist. “Glad you’re back, Max. We missed you around here,” she said softly.

  “She knows more about this place than I do,” Jade said, eyes on Lillabeth who spoke with two twentysomethings, instantly identifying, directing them to a display of ’70s tops.

  Max angled toward Jade. “I really missed you.” His eyes searched hers.

  “Max—” Jade hugged the iPad to her chest, trembling. She felt exposed and raw under his clarion gaze. He’d changed. Not just his hair or his form, but— could it be true?—his heart.

  He stepped back. “I think we were less awkward on our first date.”

  They met right here in this shop. The beginning of beginnings. In a way, they were there again. Starting over—with an honest marriage or an honest divorce.

  “We didn’t know then what we know now,” she said.

  “No, but this time the truth is on the table. No secrets. Right?” He dipped his head to see her face. “Is there anything you need to tell me? Any hometown, Prairie City, Iowa, lovers capture your heart?”

  “No,” Jade said rapid and low. The customers passed behind her, barely skirting the edge of this private conversation.

  “I guess we can talk later.”

  Yes, later. About so many things. About truth and lies. Secrets. Forget her ex-husband in Iowa. Jade had wrestled two days over Taylor Branch and her news. If she told him, he’d be crushed. Would it send him tumbling back to his old ways of phantom back pains and pain pill addiction?

  Secrets had all but destroyed their marriage. How could she keep this one to herself? She was sitting on a potential time bomb.

  Jade had no proof to corroborate Taylor’s claim. She could be lying for some hideous, bizarre reason.

  Either way, she wasn’t willing to blurt, “Asa’s not your son,” without some evidence. Without giving Max a chance to move home and consider a shave.

  “Jade, are you okay?” Max curved his hand over her shoulder. “You sighed really heavy.”

  “Did I?” She moved behind the sales counter, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second. “Just, you know, taking it all in.” She stacked the disheveled pile of sales flyers, then straightened the business cards. “So . . . here you are.”

  “Yeah, here I am.” Max brushed his hair back so it layered like ripples on the surface of still waters. “How’s Asa?”

  “Brilliant.” Finally—safe, common ground. “Yes, he’s brilliant.”

  Max grinned. “You’ve been watching Hugh Grant movies again.”

  Jade made a wry face. “About a Boy was on last night.”

  “One of your favorites.”

  He remembered. “I love all the imagery and symbolism. I love how Hugh Grant’s character changes.” Jade peered at Max until he started playing her heart with his hazel eyes. “But it’s just a movie.”

  The strange route of their conversation, the bumpy reintroduction, actually calmed her. But they couldn’t stand in the middle of the Blue Umbrella forever— or until she could trust him. Love or not, sexy cowboy husband or not, the bridge of trust was blown to smithereens.

  She couldn’t just let him waltz back into her heart and into her bed without some proof of change. Looking fabulous in those stupid Levi’s and speaking to her in tender tones merely skimmed the surface.

  “Listen,” he said. “I came home under the radar so we could have some time together. No one knows I’m home but you and Lillabeth. And those two tourists over there.”

  “Not even your mom?” Jade whispered.

  “Especially not Mom, queen of parties and parades. I wanted time wi
th you and Asa, if that’s all right with you. Uncomplicated and quiet. Dad and Mom and the rest of Whisper Hollow will see me soon enough. You and I need to talk.”

  If he talked, she’d have to talk. Recount how he hurt her and how she wanted to smash her fist into his face when she found out about Rice and the evil night in Vegas. But deep down she dreaded bringing it all up again, rehashing her hurt, his explanation, blah, blah, blah. She wasn’t in the mood to hear what he’d learned at the Outpost. She didn’t want to hear that she’d always be inadequate for him.

  Oh, she just wanted to move on before the cement at her feet hardened and she’d never be free. Could she simply hang a For Sale sign on this past year?

  “Asa’s at school.” Jade motioned toward the back of the shop, moving away from the intimate, uncomfortable tones of the conversation. “I have to pick him up in a few minutes.”

  “Yeah, I guess we don’t have to deal with us right now. I didn’t mean to come in and disrupt your day.”

  Or my heart? My mind? My strength? The longer he stood there, the more he consumed her.

  “We knew this day was coming,” she said, moving away from the register for Lillabeth to ring up the customers’ sale. The twentysomethings chose tunics and bell-bottoms. One of the girls also had a pair of Candie’s platforms Jade loved. “You may be confident and together, Max, but—”

  “Confident? Together? I’m a mess.” Max drew Jade back to her office, eased the door closed, then took her hand and pressed it over his heart. “It’s like wild mustangs in there. I can barely breathe. When I walked into the shop, I didn’t know if you were going to welcome me or shoot me.”

  “Shooting might have been appropriate. But not my style.” She pulled her hand away, the vibration of his heart still tingling on her palm.

  “I’d deserve it.” He dropped into the rickety metal chair she kept beside the desk. “I’m sorry, Jade.” He peered at her. “You are the last person in the world I’d ever want to hurt. In fact, I was trying not to hurt you. Instead, I caused the worst kind of damage.”